‘But, if all these methods failed, and the fellow remained obstinately determined against parting with liberty, the next resource was to pretend you had been joking with him—that you had no wish to enlist any man against his will—that you had advised many a one not to enlist. Ask him in to take a friendly glass, ply him briskly, send one of your party out to put on plain clothes; let another of your men bring him in as a young man wishing to enlist, set him down next to the man you have in your eye. After allowing them some conversation, put the question to them, if they were talking about enlisting. “Yes, I’ll enlist,” would be the reply of your man, “if this young man will go also.” Perhaps he might; but if not, your last resource was to get him drunk, and then slip a shilling in his pocket, get him home to your billet, and next morning swear he enlisted, bring all your party to prove it, get him persuaded to pass the doctor, as it will save the _smart_ should he be rejected. Should he pass, you must try every means in your power to get him to drink, blow him up with a fine story, get him inveigled to the magistrate in some shape or other, and get him attested; but by no means let him out of your hands.’ ‘At this rate,’ said I, ‘men are taken into the service by as unfair means as they are pressed on board a man-of-war. Were you not afraid of complaints being made to your officers; and did the magistrates not scruple to attest men who were drunk?’ ‘Not at all, man,’ was the reply. ‘It was war times. As for the magistrates, we knew who to go to on these occasions. You know it was all for the good of the service.’ ‘But had you no honour or conscience of your own?’ said I. ‘Honour or conscience!’ said he, laughing. ‘Pretty words in the mouth of a private soldier. You must do your duty, you know. A good soldier does what he is ordered, right or wrong.’ ‘But I am afraid,’ said I, ‘that you did more than you were ordered.’ ‘Perhaps we were not ordered to do all that we did; but we were blackguarded if we didn’t get men, and that was the same thing; and what’s the use of a man if he can’t take a hint?’[7] ‘You must have made a good deal of money in this way.’ ‘Money!’ said he, ‘no, no. Did you ever hear of men making money on the recruiting service? They must have come from the north if they did. No, our money didn’t do much good—it all went in raking and drinking. “It melted awa’ like snaw aff a dyke,” as the old women at home would say, and we left Glasgow with bad kitts, and worse constitutions.’ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘you may be glad you have left it, for more reasons than one, and I hope you will never return to it.’ The conversation was dropped, and he soon left me; but I could not help thinking how many poor fellows were thus inveigled into a profession they did not like, and rendered miserable the remainder of their lives.