er spoken fellow, pon honour; I'll patronise him.

LAROLE. Parbleu, he is von very sensible sauvage; vill you take von
pinch snuff?

INDIAN. Pshaw!

LAROLE. He say pshaw, I see he is born in de voods.

PENDRAGON. And are you prepared to fan these Yankees? We shall flog them
without much fatigue, I understand.

INDIAN. Not so fast, young soldier; these pale-faced enemies of ours
fight with obstinacy; accustomed to a hardy life, to liberty and laws,
they are not willing to relinquish those blessings on easy terms; if we
conquer them, it must be by no moderate exertions: it will demand force
and cunning.

PENDRAGON. Oh, dry dogs, I suppose, not to be caught napping; well, I'm
up to them, we'll fan them in high style; the ragged nabobs, I
understand, are not far off, and our troops are in fine preservation.

INDIAN. True, preparation must be made to meet them. You are under my
orders.

PENDRAGON. The devil I am!

INDIAN. Aye, sir; your general, at my request, has ordered you here to
take command of a company of my warriors; but you must not appear in
that dress: change it quickly, or they will not be commanded by you;
they are men, and fight under the orders of men.

PENDRAGON. Change my dress! why what the devil do you mean, sir?

INDIAN. Mean? that you should appear in the ranks like a warrior, and
not like a rabbit trussed for dressing--off with these garments, which
give neither pleasure to the eye nor ease to the limbs--put on
moccasins, wrap a blanket around you, put rings through your nose and
ears, feathers in your head, and paint yourself like a soldier, with
vermilion.

PENDRAGON. Why, this is the most impertinent and presuming savage in the
wilds of North America. Harkee, sir, I'd have you to know, that I am a
man of fashion, and one of the fancy--formerly of the buffs, nephew of a
peer of the realm, and will be a member of parliament, in time; an
officer of great merit and great services, Mr.--Red Jacket. Paint my
face, and fight without clothes? I desire, sir, that you will please to
take notice, that I fought at Badahoz with the immortal Wellington, and
had the honour to be wounded, and promoted, and had a medal for my
services in that affair, Mr.--Split-log. Put rings in my nose? a man of
taste, and the _ne plus ultra_ of Bond-street, the very mirror of
fashion and elegance? Sir, I beg you to observe, that I am not to be
treated in this manner--I shall resent this insult. Damme, I shall
report