Memoirs of the Late War, Vol 1 (of 2): Comprising the Personal Narrative of Captain Cooke, of the 43rd Regiment Light Infantry; the History of the Campaign of 1809 in Portugal, by the Earl of Munster; and a Narrative of the Campaign of 1814 in Holland, by Lieut. T. W. D. Moodie, H. P. 21st Fusileers — John Shaqi
Memoirs of the Late War, Vol 1 (of 2): Comprising the Personal Narrative of Captain Cooke, of the 43rd Regiment Light Infantry; the History of the Campaign of 1809 in Portugal, by the Earl of Munster; and a Narrative of the Campaign of 1814 in Holland, by Lieut. T. W. D. Moodie, H. P. 21st FusileersCooke, John Henry, Sir
History
Memoirs of the Late War, Vol 1 (of 2): Comprising the Personal Narrative of Captain Cooke, of the 43rd Regiment Light Infantry; the History of the Campaign of 1809 in Portugal, by the Earl of Munster; and a Narrative of the Campaign of 1814 in Holland, by Lieut. T. W. D. Moodie, H. P. 21st Fusileers
Cooke, John Henry, Sir
Europe -- History -- 1789-1815
Some moments elapsed before any one of this trio broke silence. My
_incognita_ blushed and cast the kindest regards towards her old nurse,
who looked alternately towards us for some explanation; but, finding
little chance of any from our confusion, she broke the awkward silence
by requesting to know my pleasure? In reply, I stammered out, that I
had lost my way; she instantly arose, and offered the assistance of her
son, to conduct me into the right road; but my _chère amie_ now found
her voice, and stopped her short, by offering her services to point
out the way for me herself; and, almost in the same breath, asked me
if I did not feel considerably fatigued after so long a walk? Then,
entering into conversation, the hours flew away imperceptibly, until
the old dame reminded her of her unusually long absence from home,
which might induce her mamma to send some one in search of her; we
thereupon parted seemingly equally pleased with each other, and with
an agreement to continue our acquaintance. To my eyes the marsh now no
longer presented a dreary waste; my heart was as light as a feather; I
bounded over planks and ditches, for hedges there were none. Even the
odious twenty-four pounders I could have turned to use, by loading them
up to the muzzles with grape shot, against all pirates or rivals; and
I do verily believe that had it not been for the presence of an old
steady gunner, I should really have fired a salute on the occasion.
I ordered tea to be prepared, and my fire made up. I then opened a
box filled with books that day forwarded to me from Hull with a note
from my brother, saying, that according to my wishes he had sent some
novels, and also a few volumes of the _Roman History_, with his strict
injunctions not to neglect the perusal of the latter in particular.
The first book I extracted was a deep romance; and the pages were
eagerly devoured with all those transports so natural to youthful
minds. It was soon conveyed for the perusal of my _chère amie_; for in
truth the _Roman History_ had never entered my head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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