ed I, enthusiastically; "that's the bulletin to my
fancy. Repeat it once more, mon lieutenant, that I may write it in my
note-book."

"What! hast thou a note-book?" cried an old staff-officer, who was
preparing to mount his horse; "let's see it, lad."

With a burning cheek and trembling hand, I drew my little journal from the
breast of my jacket, and gave it to him.

"Sacre bleu!" exclaimed he, in a burst of laughter, "what have we here?
Why, this is a portrait of old General Morieier, and, although a
caricature, a perfect likeness. And here comes a plan for 'manoeuvring a
squadron by threes from the left.' This is better--it is a receipt for an
'Omelette a la Hussard;' and here we have a love-song, and a
mustache-paste, with some hints about devotion, and diseased frog in
horses. Most versatile genius, certainly!" And so he went on, occasionally
laughing at my rude sketches, and ruder remarks, till he came to a page
headed "Equitation, as practiced by Officers of the Staff," and followed
by a series of caricatures of bad riding, in all its moods and tenses. The
flush of anger which instantly colored his face, soon attracted the notice
of those about him, and one of the bystanders quickly snatched the book
from his fingers, and, in the midst of a group all convulsed with
laughter, proceeded to expatiate upon my illustrations. To be sure, they
were absurd enough. Some were represented sketching on horseback, under
shelter of an umbrella; others were "taking the depth of a stream" by a
"header" from their own saddles; some, again, were "exploring ground for
an attack in line," by a measurement of the rider's own length over the
head of his horse. Then there were ridiculous situations, such as "sitting
down before a fortress," "taking an angle of incidence," and so on. Sorry
jests, all of them, but sufficient to amuse those with whose daily
associations they chimed in, and to whom certain traits of portraiture
gave all the zest of a personality.

My shame at the exposure, and my terror for its consequences, gradually
yielded to a feeling of flattered vanity at the success of my
lucubrations; and I never remarked that the staff-officer had ridden away
from the group, till I saw him galloping back at the top of his speed.

"Is your name Tiernay, my good fellow?" cried he, riding close up to my
side, and with an expression on his features I did not half like.

"Yes, sir," replied I.

"Hussar of the Ninth, I believe?" r