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
The next day, leaving the metropolis, we arrived at the place of
embarkation, and so managed as to meet the detachment about the same
distance from Portsmouth, that we had left them on the road from
Colchester; being not a little anxious to observe the astonishment
that our unexpected reappearance would create amongst them.
My friend instantly ran towards me and expressed the happiness he felt
at meeting me in such a way; and, almost in the same breath, said,
"Oh! we have had such fun this morning!" On leaving Chichester at the
break of day, the head of the column had been thrown into the greatest
confusion by the assistant surgeon; "Halt! halt!" cried he, "stop,
pray stop; you are trampling on my teeth," at the same moment throwing
himself on the ground, and groping in the dust for four artificial
teeth that had dropped from his mouth. The officers and soldiers were
confounded at his exclamations, while the wondering circle encompassed
him in mute expectation. At length, having put several questions,
to which they only obtained confused and unintelligible answers,
an officer ordered the men to proceed; and several voices, joining
in chorus, exclaimed:—"Why, he's mad; the doctor's intellects are
impaired;"—for they did not fully comprehend his real loss, owing
to his wild incoherent and extraordinary gesticulations—nor did he
overtake the party or make his reappearance until they had halted at
the half-way house, where he found them seated round a smoking tea urn,
hot muffins, toast, chickens, ham, and all those little delicacies
so tempting after an early walk to those possessing youth, health,
and _good grinders_. The woe-begone countenance of the doctor, on his
entering the room, caused a momentary commiseration; but no sooner did
he open his mouth, and display the vacant orifice, which no longer left
any doubt of the nature of the loss he had sustained, than bursts of
merriment, and noisy pity, were the only consolation the unlucky and
crest-fallen _medico_ received—who merely vented his wrath in broken
monosyllables, no longer daring to trust his mouth with a laugh.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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