passed in a pretty even routine of planning and executing mischief, and receiving its reward. This, however, was not long to last; for fickle fortune threw an incident in my way, which diverted my attention from all my former tricks and frolics, and turned my thoughts into a new channel. One autumn's morning, in the year 1794, while I was playing marbles in a lane called Love Lane, and was in the very act of having a shot at the whole ring with my blood-alley, the shrill notes of a fife, and the hollow sound of a distant drum, struck on my active ear. I stopped my shot, bagged my marbles, and scampered off to see the soldiers. On arriving at the market-place, I found them to be a recruiting party of the Royal Artillery, who had already enlisted several likely-looking fellows. The pretty little well-dressed fifer was the principal object of my notice. His finery and shrill music were of themselves sufficient attractions to my youthful fancy; but what occupied my thoughts more than either of these was the size of this musical warrior, whose height very little exceeded that of the drum by which he stood. "Surely," thought I to myself, sidling up to him, "I must be myself as tall, if not taller, than this little blade, and should make as good a soldier!" Reflections of this nature were crowding thick into my mind when the portly sergeant, addressing his words to the gaping rustics by whom he was surrounded, but directing his eyes to the bed-room windows in the vicinity of his station, commenced a right royal speech. I swallowed every word spoken by the royal sergeant, with as much avidity as the drum-major's wife would her morning libation. It was all about "gentlemen soldiers," "merry life," "muskets rattling," "cannons roaring," "drums beating," "colours flying," "regiments charging," and shouts of "victory! victory!" On hearing these last words, the rustic bumpkins who had enlisted exposed their flowing locks, and with their tattered hats gave three cheers to "the king--God bless him." In this I most heartily joined, to the no small amusement of the assembled multitude. "Victory!" seemed still to ring in my ears, and the sound inspired my little heart with such enthusiasm, that it was not until some minutes after the rest had left off cheering, that I became conscious, from the merriment around me, that I still held my tiny hat elevated in the air, waiting for a repetition of that spirit-stirring word. Finding myself observed, I adjusted my hat with a knowing air, elevated my beardless chin with as much consequence as I could assume, and, raising myself on tiptoe, to appear as tall as possible, I strutted up to the sergeant, and asked him, in plain words, if he would "take I for a sodger?" The sergeant smiled, and patted my head in so condescending a manner, that I thought I might venture to take the same liberty with the head of the drum; but in this I was mistaken, for I had