in
rules, and trespass not as a Tatler any further than in an incorrectness
of style, and writing in an air of common speech. Thus if anything that
is said, even of old Anchises or AEneas, be set by me in a different
light than has hitherto been hit upon, in order to inspire the love and
admiration of worthy actions, you will, gentle reader, I hope, accept of
it for intelligence you had not before. But I am going upon a narrative,
the matter of which I know to be true: it is not only doing justice to
the deceased merit[120] of such persons, as, had they lived, would not
have had it in their power to thank me, but also an instance of the
greatness of spirit in the lowest of her Majesty's subjects; take it as
follows:

At the siege of Namur by the Allies, there were in the ranks of the
company commanded by Captain Pincent, in Colonel Frederick Hamilton's
regiment, one Unnion a corporal, and one Valentine a private sentinel:
there happened between these two men a dispute about a matter of love,
which, upon some aggravations, grew to an irreconcilable hatred. Unnion
being the officer of Valentine, took all opportunities even to strike
his rival, and profess the spite and revenge which moved him to it. The
sentinel bore it without resistance, but frequently said he would die to
be revenged of that tyrant. They had spent whole months thus, one
injuring, the other complaining; when in the midst of this rage towards
each other, they were commanded upon the attack of the castle, where the
corporal received a shot in the thigh, and fell; the French pressing on,
and he expecting to be trampled to death, called out to his enemy, "Ah,
Valentine! Can you leave me here?" Valentine immediately ran back, and
in the midst of a thick fire of the French, took the corporal upon his
back, and brought him through all that danger as far as the Abbey of
Salsine, where a cannon-ball took off his head: his body fell under his
enemy whom he was carrying off Unnion immediately forgot his wound, rose
up, tearing his hair, and then threw himself upon the bleeding carcass,
crying, "Ah, Valentine! Was it for me, who have so barbarously used
thee, that thou hast died? I will not Jive after thee." He was not by
any means to be forced from the body, but was removed with it bleeding
in his arms, and attended with tears by all their comrades, who knew
their enmity. When he was brought to a tent, his wounds were dressed by
force; but the next day, still call