He was a captain at the battle of Val, where, at the head of only thirty Greys, he made so furious a charge upon a great body of French cavalry, that he routed and drove them fairly off the field. He then pulled out his purse, and gave each trooper a ducat with his left hand, for his _right_ was so swollen by the vigorous use he had made of his broad sword, that the hilt had to be sawn in two by the regimental armourer before he could be released from it. Under his old-fashioned scarlet uniform, which was cut somewhat in the mode of Queen Anne's days, he wore a _buff coat_, and this was, no doubt, the last appearance of such a garment in any European army. He received me gravely but kindly, and said, "So, boy, you have resolved to become a soldier?" "Yes, noble sir," said I; for as Charters had informed me, this was then the mode of addressing the commanding officer of a regiment. "You are very young, and seem somewhat different from the common run of our recruits. Your name is rather uncommon, too. I presume that your parents----" "They are in their graves. I have none to advise or regret me--none whom I can regret." (Did no thought of Poor Ruth arrest this sweeping speech?) "Good! you are then the best of food for gunpowder. Your age----" "I am about eighteen, sir." "You look older than that--in face, especially." "Sir, those who have undergone such years as I have, frequently do so." In truth, I looked older than my age. My figure was tall, well formed and developed, while my face had a matured expression, and somewhat resolute aspect, especially about the eyes. Colonel Preston, though a stern man, and a strict disciplinarian, felt a deep interest and pride in his regiment, and thus he narrowly examined every recruit before passing him into the ranks, and every man's name and character there, were graven on his memory. "I like both your spirit and bearing, boy," said he. "Sixty years ago, I was a poor and penniless lad, so I e'en became a private trooper in the Scots Greys, and behold me now! I am Lieutenant-Colonel of the regiment, and hope, please God, to die a General, and go to my grave under a salute of cannon. Ere long, my lads," he continued to me, and several other recruits, who had just been ushered into the Orderly room, "we must all be in France or Germany, and there we shall find what the fortune of war has in store for us. Remember that the sword of a brave man is always sharp, but that of a coward for ever wants grinding! Stand by me, my lads, and I shall never fail you, and in me you see a living example of the reward that may await sobriety, steadiness, and a strict obedience to orders. Put Basil Gauntlet into Captain Lindsay's troop; attach the rest to Captain Cunninghame's. The tailor and the roughrider will soon make dragoons of them all."