"She is as handsome and high-spirited as ever! Young Ferny of Fernwoodlee, dangles pretty closely about her now, and village gossips say they may make a good match, as his lands march with the haughs of Ardgour. If they do, I am sure you won't care much about it now, for active service rubs all soft nonsense out of a young fellow's head, just as his waistbelt rubs his coat bare. (How little the worthy quartermaster, as he blundered on, conceived that he was now sticking pins and needles into poor Quentin by this incidental communication about the young fox-hunting laird of Fernwoodlee!) "A long war is before us, Quentin, lad, and you're certain to rise in the service and be spoken about in future times, as Wolfe and Abercrombie are now. Maybe I'll not live to see the day--at my years it is not likely, but I know that it _will_ happen for all that, when the grass is growing green above me in the auld kirkyard up the glen. "The dominie--he is sitting opposite me brewing his toddy at this moment--hopes that you have not fallen into the vile habit of uttering oaths--a habit peculiar to gentlemen of our army ever since it 'swore so terribly in Flanders.' He bids me say that 'from a common custom of swearing, according to Hierocles (some Roman loon, I warrant) men easily slide into falsity; therefore do not use to swear.' He also hopes that you are not becoming contaminated in those realms of the Pope, who, though he founded all the bishoprics and most of the universities of Christendom, enjoyeth the evil repute of being little better than a Pagan and idolater among us here in Carrick. Moreover, ye are in an especial manner to avoid the snares of the female sex, and remember the mischief that was wrought by a light limmer named Helen of Troy. "From myself, dear Quentin, I say avoid all duellists, drunkards, gamblers, and fools; as a good old friend of mine--a brave soldier, too--saith in his book, 'Provide for your soul, and God will provide for your honour. If your name be forgot in the annals of time, it will make a noble figure in the muster-roll of eternity.' "If you are short of the needful, I have still a few more golden shot in the locker, so fail not to draw on me through Greenwood and Cox, or your paymaster. "I would give much, if I had it, to have one glimpse of the old corps again, though no one in it, I suppose, remembers old John Girvan now!