"Now, the sooner I am off from this dreary paternal den the better. Away to London at once. Andrews!--Jack Andrews," he shouted, in a tone almost of ferocity: "show me the last newspapers." They were soon brought, and Cosmo's sharp eyes ran rapidly over the advertisements. "Let me see," he pondered, "travelling by mail is intolerable; one never knows who the devil one may be boxed up with for a week, a fever patient or a lunatic, perhaps! The smacks are crowded with all manner of rubbish, travelling bagmen, linesmen going home on leave, sick mothers and squalling babies. What is this? The good ship _Edinburgh_, pinck-built, near the new quay at Leith, sails for England without convoy--carries six 12-pounders--master to be spoke with daily at the Cross--to be _spoke_ with. Faugh! what says the next advertisement? 'A widow lady, who is to set out for London next week in a post-chaise, would be glad to hear of a companion. Enquire at the _Courant_ office, opposite the Old Fishmarket-close, Edinburgh.' Egad! the very thing--widow lady--hope she's young and good-looking. I'll answer _this_!" Such advertisements in the London and Edinburgh papers were quite common in those days, when travelling expenses were enormous. He replied to it, and departed from Rohallion in a great hurry soon after. Whether with a fair companion or not, we are unable to say. We hope so, and that on the journey of about four hundred miles to London, the amenity of the fair widow consoled him for the final rebuff he met with from Flora Warrender. CHAPTER II. THE MESS. "He is more fortunate! Yea, he hath finished; For him there is no longer any future. His life is bright; bright without spot it was, And cannot cease to be. O 'tis well with him, But who knows what the coming hour, Veiled in thick darkness, brings for us! _Wallenstein._ The mess-room of the 2nd battalion of the 25th Foot, in old Colchester Barracks, was a long room, and for its size rather low in the ceiling, which was crossed by a massive dormant beam of oak. Good mahogany tables occupied the entire length of the room, with a row of hair-cloth chairs on each side thereof. It was destitute of all ornament save a few framed prints of the popular generals of the time, such as the Duke of York, so justly known as "the soldier's friend;" Sir Ralph Abercrombie, who fell in Egypt; Sir David Dundas, the hero of Tournay; Sir David Baird, flushed with triumph and revenge, leading on his stormers at Seringapatam; the sad and gentle Sir John Moore, and others.