est heavens, or eddying around the beetling cliffs
with a glad flight, as if rejoicing in the luxuries of the cool summer
morning. Breakfast was scarcely over before Henry was seen upon the
terrace, arrayed in his hunting dress. His bugle was daintily suspended
by a green cord across his shoulders; it was a neat and glittering
instrument, whose garniture was bedizened with the coxcombry of silken
tassels, and was displayed as ostentatiously as if worn by the hero of a
melodrame.

Like St. Swithin in the ballad, he had "footed thrice the wold," when he
put the bugle to his mouth and "blew a recheate both loud and long."

"How now, good master Puff," said Mildred, coming up playfully to her
brother, "what means this uproar? Pray you, have mercy on one's ears."

Henry turned towards his sister, without taking the bugle from his lips,
and continued the blast for a full minute; then, ceasing only from want
of breath, he said, with a comic earnestness--

"I'm practising my signals, sister; I can give you 'to Horse,' and
'Reveillee,' and 'Roast Beef,' like a trained trumpeter."

"Truly you are a proper man, master," replied Mildred. "But it is hardly
a time," she continued, half muttering to herself, "for you and me,
Henry, to wear light hearts in our bosoms."

"Why, sister," said Henry, with some astonishment in his looks, "this
seems to me to be the very time to practise my signals. We are at the
very tug of the war, and every man that has a sword, or bugle either,
should be up and doing."

"How come on your studies, brother?" interrupted Mildred, without
heeding Henry's interpretation of his duty.

"Oh, rarely! I know most of the speeches of Coriolanus all by heart:--

"'Like an eagle in a dove cote, I
Fluttered your voices in Corioli:
Alone I did it.--Boy!'"

he spouted, quoting from the play, and accompanying his recitation with
some extravagant gestures.

"This is easy work, Henry," said Mildred laughing, "there is too much of
the holiday play in that. I thought you were studying some graver
things, instead of these bragging heroics. You pretended to be very
earnest, but a short time ago, to make a soldier of yourself."

"Well, and don't you call this soldiership? Suppose I were to pounce
down upon Cornwallis--his lordship, as that fellow Tyrrel calls
him--just in that same fashion. I warrant they would say there was some
soldiership in it! But, sister, haven't I been studying the attack and
de