"Lord-a-mercy, your honour," said the Corporal, drawing out a little red- spotted pocket-handkerchief; "how can--jest so?--it's quite moving." "I wish we were moving!" sighed the patient. "And so we might be," cried the Corporal; "so we might, if you'd pluck up a bit. Just let me look at your honour's head; I knows what a confusion is better nor any of 'em." The Corporal having obtained permission, now removed the bandages wherewith the Doctor had bound his intended sacrifice to Pluto, and after peering into the wounds for about a minute, he thrust out his under lip, with a contemptuous, "Pshaugh! augh! And how long," said he, "does Master Fillgrave say you be to be under his hands,--augh!" "He gives me hopes that I may be taken out an airing very gently, (yes, hearses always go very gently!) in about three weeks!" The Corporal started, and broke into a long whistle. He then grinned from ear to ear, snapped his fingers, and said, "Man of the world, Sir,--man of the world every inch of him!" "He seems resolved that I shall be a man of another world," said Walter. "Tell ye what, Sir--take my advice--your honour knows I be no fool--throw off them ere wrappers; let me put on scrap of plaister--pitch phials to devil--order out horses to-morrow, and when you've been in the air half an hour, won't know yourself again!" "Bunting! the horses out to-morrow?--faith, I don't think I could walk across the room." "Just try, your honour." "Ah! I'm very weak, very weak--my dressing-gown and slippers--your arm, Bunting--well, upon my honour, I walk very stoutly, eh? I should not have thought this! leave go: why I really get on without your assistance!" "Walk as well as ever you did." "Now I'm out of bed, I don't think I shall go back again to it." "Would not, if I was your honour." "And after so much exercise, I really fancy I've a sort of an appetite." "Like a beefsteak?" "Nothing better." "Pint of wine?" "Why that would be too much--eh?" "Not it." "Go, then, my good Bunting; go and make haste--stop, I say that d--d fellow--" "Good sign to swear," interrupted the Corporal; "swore twice within last five minutes--famous symptom!" "Do you choose to hear me? That d--d fellow, Fillgrave, is coming back in an hour to bleed me: do you mount guard--refuse to let him in--pay him his bill--you have the money. And harkye, don't be rude to the rascal." "Rude, your honour! not I--been in the Forty-second--knows discipline-- only rude to the privates!"