an, and
you'll be finding that the 55th make almost as good farmers as soldiers.
I never saw better potatoes in Scotland than we are likely to have in
that new patch of ours."

"They promise a good yield, Major Duncan; and, in that light, a more
comfortable winter than the last."

"Life is progressive, Sergeant, in its comforts as well as in its need
of them. We grow old, and I begin to think it time to retire and settle
in life. I feel that my working days are nearly over."

"The king, God bless him! sir, has much good service in your honor yet."

"It may be so, Sergeant Dunham, especially if he should happen to have a
spare lieutenant-colonelcy left."

"The 55th will be honored the day that commission is given to Duncan of
Lundie, sir."

"And Duncan of Lundie will be honored the day he receives it. But,
Sergeant, if you have never had a lieutenant-colonelcy, you have had a
good wife, and that is the next thing to rank in making a man happy."

"I have been married, Major Duncan; but it is now a long time since I
have had no drawback on the love I bear his majesty and my duty."

"What, man! not even the love you bear that active little round-limbed,
rosy-cheeked daughter that I have seen in the fort these last few days!
Out upon you, Sergeant! old fellow as I am, I could almost love that
little lassie myself, and send the lieutenant-colonelcy to the devil."

"We all know where Major Duncan's heart is, and that is in Scotland,
where a beautiful lady is ready and willing to make him happy, as soon
as his own sense of duty shall permit."

"Ay, hope is ever a far-off thing, Sergeant," returned the superior, a
shade of melancholy passing over his hard Scottish features as he spoke;
"and bonnie Scotland is a far-off country. Well, if we have no heather
and oatmeal in this region, we have venison for the killing of it and
salmon as plenty as at Berwick-upon-Tweed. Is it true, Sergeant, that
the men complain of having been over-venisoned and over-pigeoned of
late?"

"Not for some weeks, Major Duncan, for neither deer nor birds are so
plenty at this season as they have been. They begin to throw their
remarks about concerning the salmon, but I trust we shall get through
the summer without any serious disturbance on the score of food. The
Scotch in the battalion do, indeed, talk more than is prudent of their
want of oatmeal, grumbling occasionally of our wheaten bread."

"Ah, that is human nature, Sergeant! pure, u