The family of Mr. Bull is so brave, their
nature is so astonishingly firm under
difficulties, and they are a race so unsubduable in
the might of their valour, that Mr. Bull cannot
hear of their great exploits against his
enemy, without enthusiastic emotions of pride
and pleasure. But, he has a real tenderness
for his children's lives in time of war—
unhappily he is less sensible of the value of life
in time of peace—and the good old man
often weeps in private when he thinks of the
gallant blood inexpressibly dear to him, that
is shed, and is yet to be shed, in this cause.
An exasperating part of Abby Dean's
somnambulism is, that at this momentous and
painful crisis in Mr. Bull's life, she still goes
on "mooning about," (I again quote the
worthy gentleman's words), in her old heavy
way; presenting a contrast to the energy of
his children, which is so extremely disagreeable,
that Mr. Bull, though not a violent man,
is sometimes almost goaded into knocking her
on the head.

Another feature in this case—which we
find to obtain in other cases of somnambulism
in the books—is, that the patient often
becomes confused, touching her own identity.
She is observed to confound herself with
those noble children of Mr. Bull whom I have
just mentioned, and to take to herself more
or less of the soaring reputation of their
deeds. I clearly foresee, on an attentive
examination of the latest symptoms, that this
delusion will increase, and that within a few
months she will be found sleepily insinuating
to all the House that she has some real share
in the glory those faithful sons have won. I
am of opinion also, that this is a part of her
disease which she will be capable of
mysteriously communicating to the Cabinet, and
that we shall find the whole of that lumbering
piece of furniture, at about the same
time, similarly afflicted.

It is further to be observed, as an incident
of this perplexed case of sleep-waking, that
the patient has sufficient consciousness to
excuse herself from the performance of every
duty she undertook to discharge in entering
Mr. Bull's service, by one unvarying reference
to the fight in which his children are
engaged. The House is neglected, the estate is
ill managed, the necessities and complaints of
the people are unheeded, everything is put
off and left undone, for this no-reason.
"Whereas," as Mr. Bull observes—and there
is no gainsaying it—"if I be unhappily
involved in all this trouble at a distance, let me
at least do some slight good at home. Let
me have some compensating balance, here,
for all my domestic loss and sorrow there. If
my precious children be slain upon my right
hand, let me, for God's sake, the better teach
and nurture those now growing up upon my
left." But where is the use of saying this, or of
saving anything, to a somnambulist? Further
still, than this,—Abby, in her mooning about,
(for I again quote the words of Mr. Bull) is
frequently overheard to mumble that if
anybody touches her, it will be at the peril of Mr.
Bull's brave children afar off, who will, in that
event, suffer some mysterious damage. Now,
although the meanest hind, within or without
the House, might know better than to
suppose this true or possible, I grieve to relate
that it has a powerful effect in preventing
efforts to awake her; and that many persons
in the establishment who are capable of
administering powerful shakes or wholesome
wringings of the nose, are restrained hereby
from offering their salutary aid. I should
observe, as the closing feature of the case,
that these mumblings are echoed in an
ominous tone, by the Cabinet; and I am of
opinion, from what I observe, that its echoes
will become louder in about January or
February next, if it should hang together
so long.

This is the patient's state. The question
to be resolved is, Can she be awakened? It
is highly important that she should be, if
Science can devise a way; for, until she can
be roused to some sense of her condition in
reference to Mr. Bull and his affairs, Mr.
Bull can by no humane means rid himself of
her. That she should be got into a state
to receive warning, I agree with Mr. Bull in
deeming of the highest importance. Although
I wish him to avoid undue excitement, I
never can remonstrate with him when he
represents to me (as he does very often) that, in
this eventful time what he requires to have at
the head of his establishment, is—
emphatically, a Man.

FIELD SERVICE.

A PRACTICAL work has just been compiled
by the joint labours of several experienced
Artillery officers, from which we glean a
variety of facts, that may prove interesting
in reference to the great events of the last
few weeks.

The most destructive and scientific arm
of the service, is horse, or flying artillery;
the performances of a troop of which are
sometimes astonishing. A battery of horse
artillery is in fact a beautiful machine,
composed of a great number and variety of parts.
Say it is a battery, of six nine-pounder guns
with their concomitants. It is waited upon
by one hundred and ninety men and one
hundred and seventy horses,—augmented,
during the present war, to one hundred and
eighty-two horses. Among the men we find
six officers; that is, the captain of the troop,
a second captain, three lieutenants, and one
assistant surgeon—there being no want of
medical aid for such an important arm. Then
there are two experienced staff-sergeants, and
thirteen other non-commissioned officers.
The gunners and drivers form the greater
portion of the privates, amounting to about
one hundred and sixty men. The residue
is made up of two trumpeters, to