"'Thin take ut off again,' sez Peg Barney, latherin' away wid the boot; 'take ut off an' dance, ye lousy civilian!' "Wid that he begins cursin' ould Dhrumshticks, being so full he clean disremimbers the Brigade-Major an' the Judge Advokit Gen'ral. "'Do you not know me, Peg?' sez I, though me blood was hot in me wid being called a civilian." "An' him a decent married man!" wailed Dinah Shadd. "'I do not,' sez Peg, 'but dhrunk or sober I'll tear the hide off your back wid a shovel whin I've stopped singin'.' "'Say you so, Peg Barney?' sez I. 'Tis clear as mud you've forgotten me. I'll assist your autobiography.' Wid that I stretched Peg Barney, boot an' all, an' wint into the camp. An awful sight ut was! "'Where's the orf'cer in charge av the detachment?' sez I to Scrub Greene--the manest little worm that ever walked. "'There's no orf'cer, ye ould cook,' sez Scrub; 'we're a bloomin' Republic.' "'Are you that?' sez I; 'thin I'm O'Connell the Dictator, an' by this you will larn to kape a civil tongue in your rag-box.' "Wid that I stretched Scrub Greene an' wint to the orf'cer's tent. 'Twas a new little bhoy--not wan I'd iver seen before. He was sittin' in his tent, purtendin' not to 'ave ear av the racket. "I saluted--but for the life av me! mint to shake hands whin I went in. Twas the sword hangin' on the tent-pole changed my will. "'Can't I help, sorr?' sez I; ''tis a strong man's job they've given you, an' you'll be wantin' help by sundown.' He was a bhoy wid bowils, that child, an' a rale gintleman. "'Sit down,' sez he. "'Not before my orf'cer,' sez I; an' I tould him fwhat my service was. "'I've heard av you,' sez he. 'You tuk the town av Lungtungpen nakid.' "'Faith,' thinks I, 'that's Honor an' Glory, for 'twas Lift'nint Brazenose did that job. 'I'm wid ye, sorr,' sez I, 'if I'm av use. They shud niver ha' sent you down wid the draf'. Savin' your presince, sorr,' I sez, 'tis only Lift'nint Hackerston in the Ould Rig'mint can manage a Home draf'.' "'I've niver had charge of men like this before,' sez he, playin' wid the pens on the table; 'an' I see by the Rig'lations'-- "'Shut your oi to the Rig'lations, sorr,' I sez, 'till the throoper's into blue wather. By the Rig'lations you've got to tuck thim up for the night, or they'll be runnin' foul av my coolies an' makin' a shiverarium half through the country. Can you trust your noncoms, sorr?' "'Yes,' sez he. "'Good,' sez I; 'there'll be throuble before the night. Are you marchin', sorr?' "'To the next station,' sez he. "'Better still,' sez I; 'there'll be big throuble.' "'Can't be too hard on a Home draf',' sez he; 'the great thing is to get thim in-ship.' "'Faith you've larnt the half av your lesson, sorr,' sez I, 'but av you shtick to the Rig'lations you'll niver get thim in-ship at all, at all. Or there won't be a rag av kit betune thim whin you do.'