hastened back to my father, who was pacing the hall impatiently. "Is he coming?" asked the latter. "He's kilt," was the reply. "My curse attend ye, Kimlin !" Dreadful was the consternation which Mark Haggerty's intelligence created: all and every, from the cook to the kitchen-maid, crossed themselves devoutly, and aves and paternosters were plentifully ejaculated. And while the butler was despatched to rouse the regimental surgeon, and my father was striving to conjecture by what ingenious device a dead man had contrived to finish a living one, the old nursetender shouted from the stair-head that my mother had produced an heir, “and, och, but he's a born beauty!" Gentle reader, such were the circumstances attendant on my entrée into life; for the nurse's beauty was myself, your humble servant. CHAPTER II. MEMOIR OF MY FATHER. Says the priest to my parents, ye ugly ould pair, How strictly the latter part of this admired distich might have been applicable to myself, modesty will prevent me insinuating; but certainly the former was not so to my parents, for and handsome. both were young Cæsar Blake (for thus my father was designated) was the descendant of an ancient family, and the youngest of four brothers. The eldest succeeded to ancestral dignities and estates, and had been duly indoctrinated in fox-hunting and field-sports, electioneering, drinking, and duelling; in short, in all those accomplishments which, for time immemorial, have been consi dered by the best authorities, the sole end for which Irish gentlemen were originally created. The second was a field-officer in the Austrian service. The third held a command in the Spanish marine. The fourth, my father, entered the British army when a boy, where he attained the rank of major. Cæsar Blake was a general favourite with his regiment, which, though a flashy corps, was in no way remarkable for strictness in its discipline. The men were chiefly Irish, and consequently there were among them not a few of that description, known among soldiers by the title of "the king's bad bargains." The officers were young, wild, and gentlemanly. The colonel, an easy-tempered, good-hearted, harddrinking veteran, averse to all manner of severity, and of course obnoxious to being imposed upon by the men. Hence the regiment was frequently in scrapes-the officers perpetrating all sorts of mischief, and the men fighting with any who would so far oblige them. Complaints being eternally forwarded to the general of the district, at last the case came under serious consideration at the Horse Guards; and to abate the evil, it was deemed advisable to remove the old commander, and replace him with a tartar. But, from his previous services, there was no small difficulty in depriving Colonel Selby of his regiment. Fortunately a staff appointment became vacant, and Colonel Macleod was gazetted to the command of the 18th "vice Selby promoted." The veteran parted from his companions in arms with unfeigned regret. To the senior officers he was endeared by many a recollection of "Auld lang syne;" and on the younger he looked with the feelings of a too indulgent father, who forgives juvenile aberrations he should correct, from a mistaken but excusable affection. My dear boys," he said, as on the morning of his departure he addressed himself to a group of wild ones, among whom my father was a leader—“ be more upon your guard. Remember it is not the old man' with whom you will have to deal in future. Others may not make allowances for the exuberance of youthful spirits. Be cautious, my darling boys, and when I'm far away, recollect my parting adino nition." They did so before long, as the sequel will demonstrate. Colonel Selby intended quitting the barrack by the back-gate, for his heart was too full to permit his looking at the regiment for the last time with tolerable composure. The men were formed on parade, when their beloved commander was observed issuing from his quarters, leaning on my father's arm. Then a singular scene of military excitement ensued. The soldiers piled their arms, and rushed forward in one wild tumultuary mass. A chair was procured, and the colonel elevated on the shoulders of the tallest of the grenadiers. The band formed in front, and followed by the whole corps, officers and drum-boys, lightbobs and pioneers, women and children, and all the tag-rag and bobtail appertaining to a regiment, they proceeded in glorious confusion round the streets, and passed the inn with deafening cheers, just as the old man's successor stepped from a hackney-chaise. Whether it was that no enthusiastic tokens of regret had marked the new commander's parting with the regiment he had quitted, cer |