think what I am; when I contrast a
Brussels carpet with wet grass, silk hangings with a canvas tent, Sneyd's
claret with ration brandy, and Sir Arthur for a Commander-in-Chief _vice_
Boggs, a widow--"

"Stop there!" cried Hixley. "Without disparaging the fair widow, there's
nothing beats campaigning, after all. Eh, Fred?"

"And to prove it," said the colonel, "Power will sing us a song."

Power took his pencil from his pocket, and placing the back of a letter
across his shako, commenced inditing his lyric, saying, as he did so, "I'm
your man in five minutes. Just fill my glass in the mean time."

"That fellow beats Dibdin hollow," whispered the adjutant. "I'll be hanged
if he'll not knock you off a song like lightning."

"I understand," said Hixley, "they have some intention at the Horse Guards
of having all the general orders set to popular tunes, and sung at every
mess in the service. You've heard that, I suppose, Sparks?"

"I confess I had not before."

"It will certainly come very hard upon the subalterns," continued Hixley,
with much gravity. "They'll have to brush up their _sol mi fas_. All the
solos are to be their part."

"What rhymes with slaughter?" said Power.

"Brandy-and-water," said the adjutant.

"Now, then," said Power, "are you all ready?"

"Ready."

"You must chorus, mind; and mark me, take care you give the hip-hip-hurra
well, as that's the whole force of the chant. Take the time from me. Now
for it. Air, 'Garryowen,' with spirit, but not too quick.

"Now that we've pledged each eye of blue,
And every maiden fair and true,
And our green island home,--to you
The ocean's wave adorning,
Let's give one Hip-hip-hip-hurra!
And, drink e'en to the coming day,
When, squadron square,
We'll all be there,
To meet the French in the morning.

"May his bright laurels never fade,
Who leads our fighting fifth brigade,
Those lads so true in heart and blade,
And famed for danger scorning.
So join me in one Hip-hurra!
And drink e'en to the coming day,
When, squadron square,
We'll all be there,
To meet the French in the morning.

"And when with years and honors crowned,
You sit some homeward hearth around,
And hear no more the stirring sound
That spoke the trumpet's warning,
You'll fill and drink, one Hip-hurra!
And pledge the memory of the day,
When, s