might have expended himself on the key-
bugle, or have become absorbed in the big
drum; but at the proper age for rendering
efficient military service, the instrument to
which he took a fancy, was the musket—and
he was drafted into the battalion.

There might have been something more
than mere fancy in his last choice, for Patrick
was tender-hearted; and, though he would
have fought any lad in the regiment of his
own weight and age—or heavier and older,
for that matter — as soon as eat his breakfast,
he never could bring himself to handle "the
cat;" and when MacManus was a boy, a week
seldom passed without his having more than
one "five-and-twenty" to administer as his
share of punishment inflicted before breakfast
—when the meal that followed the punishment
parade was rarely swallowed.* On
these occasions the drum-major's cane left
tokens on Patrick's shoulders of the unwillingness
with which he performed this description
of "duty;" and that functionary, who was a
sharp, red-faced little man, with a bandy
elbow, gladly resigned his "chicken-hearted"
pupil — as he called him, by a misnomer which
Patrick very soon rectified. Mac Manus
quickly became a smart soldier, and, being
generally liked in the regiment, had as
reasonable a prospect of promotion as could be
desired; but, whether he were born — as some
are — without ambition, or whether ill-luck,
as frequently happens, predominated over
his destiny, is a matter of doubt. Perhaps
the real cause of his continuing in the ranks
arose from the good-nature and "devil-may-
care-ism" that got him into so many scrapes;
which, though they did not affect his moral
character, by no means elevated him in the
eyes of the authorities as a model of military
discipline.

But if he did not acquire distinction by
rank, Mac Manus speedily gained that sound
distinction which renders a man invaluable
on a march or bivouack, round a camp-fire or
on a recruiting party; he could tell a good
story, sing a good song, had an inexhaustible
fund of good spirits, and made the best of
everything that was bad. "It's the rough
coat that turns the wet," he used to say, "so
never take sorrow to heart, boys." But if
Mac Manus kept sorrow aloof he did not
exclude sympathy, and it is difficult in the long
run to prevent the two from uniting, only he
took the disease in a mild form, his warmth
of heart preventing him from catching cold
upon it. The best elements of popularity
were thus in his natural disposition, and then
the length of his service gave him authority,
so that if any question were on foot in the
regiment affecting the rights or interests of
the soldier, or if any doubtful point were to
be decided, an appeal was always made to
Mac Manus, and whatever he said was sure
to give satisfaction.

Accordingly, when the route, of which we
have spoken, was made known, a bevy of fellows,
foremost amongst whom was Maurice Savage,
hurried off to the Canteen where Mac Manus
was taking a quiet pipe and pot with his
friend Corporal Rattler, and "discoorsin'" on
the now universal topic.

"It's about Halifax, then, that you want
to know, boys!" said the veteran. "Make a
circle and keep silence, and I'll tell you as
much as will serve you all round for night-
caps. I was but a gossoon when first I put
my foot upon the iron-bound shores of Novy
Skoshy, but I saw enough while I was there,
and staid long enough to remember all about
the place. It was in the Duke of Kent's time,
—her Majesty's royal father—he was called
Prince Edward then, and a pretty time we
had of it. Och, boys, the drill was
murthering entirely! The officers called it
'discipline,'— it's harrassin' the men in quarters,
not discipline in the field that I mane,
for ye can't have too much discipline in
front of the enemy—that is, in rayson. You
think it hard, boys, to be handed over to
the care of Corporal Rattler (here's your
health Corporal), when you hear the 'rouse
and turn out,' at six o'clock on a fine summer's
morning; but I should like to know what
you'd have said, when the bugle blew in the
middle of the night, and it was who should be
first up to plaster his head with powder and
pomatum, shave off his whiskers close under
the cheek-bone, leaving just enough to swear
by, tie his comrade's pigtail at a mathematical
angle, pipe-clay his belts, heel-ball his pouch,
and do fifty other things that he ought to have
got ready the evening before, to be in time for
the daylight parade in the climate of Novy
Skoshy, with the glass down at zero, — that's
'nothing,' boys — or may be, five or six degrees
below it."

"Less than nothing!" interrupted the
schoolmaster sergeant, who was ex-officio the
regimental Bonnycastle, and had a vile habit
of taking nothing for granted till it was
proved;" less than nothing! How do you
make that out, Pat?"

"As pat as you plase, Sergeant, for a learned
ignoramus as you are! A glass that held
less than nothing would be a bad one to drink
out of; wouldn't it, Corporal Rattler?—(the
gallant militarist nodded, and drained his
own, by way of trying the experiment)—but
I'm spaking of a weather-glass, an insthrument
like my pipe filled with quicksilver,

* A vast amelioration with respect to corporal punishment
has taken place within the last twenty-five years.
At that time the articles of war permitted, and the inclination
of the commanding officer very often enforced a
punishment of three hundred lashes, when such was the
sentence of a Regimental or Garrison Court Martial; more-
over, if the crime were desertion, or a more than ordinarily
flagrant breach of military discipline, and a General Court
Martial sat on the delinquent, the amount of punishment
might range from five hundred to eight hundred lashes (or
even more), though the latter number was the most we ever
had the misfortune to witness the infliction of, on one
individual. Now, the amount of corporal punishment is never
permitted to exceed fifty lashes, and this only in aggravated
cases; the general number being twenty-five, and those
rarely inflicted, so that, practically, corporal punishment
may be said to be almost abolished.