Household Words, No. 15, July 6, 1850 : $b A weekly journal
General
Household Words, No. 15, July 6, 1850 : $b A weekly journal
English literature -- Periodicals
To go through this routine, required—as it received in some regiments—a
few days’ training; but in the Hundredth there was none at all. Every
officer in that distinguished corps was supposed to be “a Heaven-born
genius,” and acquired his military education as pigeons pick up peas.
The Hon. Ensign Spoonbill looked at his men after a fashion; could swear
at them if they were excessively dirty, and perhaps awe them into
silence by a portentous scowl, or an exaggerated loudness of voice; but
with regard to the real purpose of inspection, he knew as little, and
cared as much, as the valet who aired his noble father’s morning
newspaper. His eye wandered over the men’s kits as they were exposed to
his view; but to his mind they only conveyed the idea of a kaleidoscopic
rag-fair, not that of an assortment of necessaries for the comfort and
well-being of the soldier. He saw large masses of beef, exhibited in a
raw state by the quartermaster, as the daily allowance for the men; but
if any one had asked him if the meat was good, and of proper weight, how
could he have answered, whose head was turned away in disgust, with his
face buried in a scented cambric handkerchief, and his delicate nature
loathing the whole scene? In the same spirit he saw the men’s breakfasts
and dinners served; fortifying his opinion, at the first, that coffee
could only be made in France, and wondering, at the second, what sort of
_potage_ it could be that contrived to smell so disagreeably. These
things might be special affectations in the Hon. Ensign, and depended,
probably, on his own peculiar organisation; but if the rest of the
officers of the Hundredth did not manifest as intense a dislike to this
part of their duties, they were members of much too “crack” a regiment
to give themselves any trouble about the matter. The drums beat, the
messes were served, there was a hasty gallop through the barrack-rooms,
scarcely looking right or left, and the orderly officer was only too
happy to make his escape without being stopped by any impertinent
complaint.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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