"I have weighed well, major, and I shall shrink from nothing! I long only for the opportunity of showing that I shall be--shall be what my father was before me," said Quentin, with flashing eyes and quivering lips, while he felt that these were not the kind of men to boast before. The old major regarded the lad attentively, and said-- "Give me your hand again; I like your spirit, and hope ere long to wet your commission and welcome you as a brother officer. I enforce the strictest obedience, and some term me severe, yet I hope you will like me; for, if pleased with you, your future prospects shall be my peculiar care." "I thank you, sir," said Quentin, with a very full heart. "I like to regard the regiment as one large family; and when we consider the manifold clangers we dare, and the sufferings we endure together, all soldiers--officers and men alike--more than any other human community, have reasons for strong mutual attachment, and for feeling themselves indeed brothers. There are some of the brotherhood, however, over whom I have, at times, to keep a tight hand--yourself, for instance--Dick Monkton, eh!" "True, major, the adjutant has come to me in his harness more than once for my sword; but like a good fellow, you always sent it back again," said Monkton, laughing. "Two remarks of the great General Monk should always be borne in mind by those who enter the service," said the major, who seemed a well-read and intelligent officer; "and in youth I learned them by rote, and so have never forgotten them since. 'War, the profession of a soldier, is that of all others which, as it conferreth most honour upon a man who therein acquitteth himself well, so it draweth the greatest infamy upon one who demeaneth himself ill; for _one_ fault committed can _never_ be repaired, and _one_ hour causeth the loss of that reputation which hath been thirty years acquiring!' Elsewhere he says, 'A soldier must be always ready to confront extremity of danger by extremity of valour, and overtop fury with a higher resolution. A soldier ought to fear nothing but _God and Dishonour_, and the officer who commands should feel for him as a parent does for his child!' And now, to become more matter of fact, Monkton will tell you, Mr. Kennedy, all about a volunteer's outfit; the plainer, and the less there is of it, the better." "Thanks, sir; you are most thoughtful." "You shall have to carry the arms and accoutrements of a private, and a knapsack too, perhaps, under some circumstances, till luck turns up a commission for you. In all respects you will be treated as a gentleman; but doing the duty and yielding the implicit obedience of a private soldier. Do you understand me?" "Perfectly, sir," replied Quentin, cheerfully. "As for the knapsack," said Monkton, "its weight matters little if your heart be light, my friend." Quentin smiled, as if he meant to confront fortune boldly, and the future too.