or
three weeks from my Araminta! And at this time of all others!"--for the
lady was again expecting to become a mother: as in due course (I am happy
to say) she did, and presented him with a bouncing boy and was in turn
presented with a silver cradle. But this, though the great event of the
Doctor's mayoralty, will not excuse a longer digression.

Captain Pond kept his head, although upon his first perusal of the letter
he had come near to fainting, and for a week after walked the streets with
a tragic face. There was no appeal. Official instructions had followed
the Colonel's informal warning. The die was cast. The Die-hards must
march, must for three weeks be immured in Pendennis Castle, that infernal
fortress.

To his lasting credit he pretermitted no effort to prepare his men and
steel them against the ordeal, no single care for their creature-comforts.
Short though the notice was, he interviewed the Mayoress and easily
persuaded her to organise a working-party of ladies, who knitted socks,
comforters, woollen gloves, etc., for the departing heroes, and on the eve
of the march-out aired these articles singly and separately that they
might harbour no moisture from the feminine tears which had too often
bedewed the knitting. He raised a house-to-house levy of borrowed
feather-beds. Geese for the men's Christmas dinner might be purchased at
Falmouth, and joints of beef, and even turkeys (or so he was credibly
informed). But on the fatal morning he rode out of Looe with six pounds
of sausages and three large Christmas puddings swinging in bags at his
saddle-bow.

What had sustained him was indignation, mingled with professional pride.
He had been outraged, hurt in the very seat of local patriotism: but he
would show these regulars what a Volunteer company could do. Yes, and
(Heaven helping him) he would bring his men home unscathed, in health,
with not a unit missing or sick or sorry. Out of this valley of
humiliation every man should return--ay, and with laurels!

Forbear, my Muse, to linger over the scene of that departure! Captain
Pond (I say) rode with six pounds of sausages and three puddings dangling
at his saddle-bow. The Doctor rode in an ambulance-waggon crammed to the
tilt with materials ranging from a stomach-pump to a backgammon-board;
appliances not a few to restore the sick to health, appliances in far
larger numbers to preserve health in the already healthy. Mr. Clogg, the
second lieuten