called at morning, noon, and night,
and a return of the absent and disorderly is given in by the officer
to the commanding officer of the regiment, who has to see that they are
properly punished. The men are punished, and the drummers are always at
work. Oh, Harry, but it made one sick to see the first blood drawn from
a great strong white back, and to hear the piteous yell of the poor
fellow."

"Oh, horrid!" says Madam Esmond.

"I think I should have murdered Ward if he had flogged me. Thank Heaven
he got off with only a crack of the ruler! The men, I say, are looked
after carefully enough. I wish the officers were. The Indians have just
broken up their camp, and retired in dudgeon, because the young officers
were for ever drinking with the squaws--and--and--hum--ha." Here Mr.
Harry pauses, as not caring to proceed with the narrative, in the
presence of little Fanny, very likely, who sits primly in her chair by
her mother's side, working her little sampler.

"Pass over that about the odious tipsy creatures," says Madam. And Harry
commences, in a loud tone, a much more satisfactory statement: "Each
regiment has Divine Service performed at the head of its colours every
Sunday. The General does everything in the power of mortal man to
prevent plundering, and to encourage the people round about to bring in
provisions. He has declared soldiers shall be shot who dare to interrupt
or molest the market-people. He has ordered the price of provisions to
be raised a penny a pound, and has lent money out of his own pocket to
provide the camp. Altogether, he is a strange compound, this General. He
flogs his men without mercy, but he gives without stint. He swears most
tremendous oaths in conversation, and tells stories which Mountain would
be shocked to hear--"

"Why me?" asks Mountain; "and what have I to do with the General's silly
stories?"

"Never mind the stories; and go on, Harry," cries the mistress of the
house.

"--would be shocked to hear after dinner; but he never misses service.
He adores his Great Duke, and has his name constantly on his lips. Our
two regiments both served in Scotland, where I dare say Mr. Dempster
knew the colour of their facings."

"We saw the tails of their coats, as well as their facings," growls the
little Jacobite tutor.

"Colonel Washington has had the fever very smartly, and has hardly been
well enough to keep up with the march. Had he not better go home and
be nursed by his widow? W