"Captin Egerton comes on parade--lookin' like a ghost iv a fine man, an' sittin' his horse illegant--and ses he, afther praade, ridin' up, jist as we wor dispersin'--'Is there a man among ye's, me lads, iv the name iv Dinnis O'Toole?" ses he, quite cheerful like. 'Yes, sir,' ses Sargant Mills--'he's in throop, No. 3.' 'Let me see him,' ses the Captin'.' 'Dennis O'Toole, if yer sober, stand out,' ses the Sarjant.' 'Ha!' ses the Captin, quite quick like--'that's bad.' An' I niver felt so ashamed iv meself afore nor since; wid that he tells me to come up to his quarthers in the afthernoon. So I wint--an' he give me yer letther, that Miss Kate wrote for ye, God bless her! an' sure me hart was in me mouth, whin I got the word iv home; bud faith it 'ud take a month's time to write all the good he done me--he discoarsed me like--no not like a clargy--like a man. 'Don't let the dhrink get the betther of ye,' ses he; 'fight it, as ye would a rascally Sikh--give it no quarther; an' don't let the people at home, say ye showed the white feather,' ses he; an' thin he walks up an' down, an' ses to hisself--'I will not have Kate Vernon's foster brother a dhrunkard, an' disgraced'--I hard him say it. Well, the ind iv it was, I was put in his throop, No. 1, an' iv taken the pledge; that's to the Captin; an' I'll be a corplar in a week or so; an' I'm as sober as a jidge, barin' the pipe--an' it's many a ride we do be takin--the Captin an' meself. He's not a bit like the other officers; but, always reading, whin he is'nt shootin' tigers or pullin' unfortunate women out iv the fire, or any divilment that way. Iv all the dashin' young min iver I seen, I'll back the Captin--there's nothin' good, bad, nor indifferent he would'nt face--jist as if he was goin' to his dinner; an' many a time we do be talkin' iv you, an' how ye nursed him; and he's niver tired of hearin' tell iv Miss Kate, whin she was a beautiful little darlin' iv a child; an' iv Dungar an' the masther; an' I'm improvin' me writin'--an' Corplar Morrisson's writin' this letther for me like a rale pinman as he is; an' so I hope yer well--an he ses he's a trifle iv money with the Captin; an' indeed Mrs. O'Toole yer son's another man, intirely, an' I'm proud to tell ye that same; an' me duty to Miss Kate, an' the Kurnel. Sure, I never can forget Dungar, an' ould times, nor you, mother; an' if we are not to meet here again, I hope we may in Heaven, amin! "Your dutiful an' lovin' son, "DINNIS O'TOOLE. "Throop, No. 1, an' own man to the Captin. "_Cantoonment._ "_Junglepore, Ingy._" "The Queen in Heaven reward ye, Captin," cried Mrs. O'Toole, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Och, Dinny, it's you's in luck--an' he's the Captin's own man; an' give up dhrink--glory be to God!"