The Officer his aid now friendly lent him, Proposing to the Colonel to present him. To this John readily gave his assent, And arm in arm they sociably went. Arriv’d, the Officer first stepped before, ‘This, Sir, is Ensign _Newcome_, of our Corps.’ ‘I’m very glad to see you, Mr. _Newcome_; ‘’Tis charming weather: pray from whence do you come?’ ‘Uncommon hot, Sir! but I push’d my Cattle, ‘In hopes I should in time be for the Battle.’ ‘O! you’re in famous time, you need not fear: ‘But you must send your Baggage to the Rear.’ ‘The Devil!’ quoth John, ‘this is a queer beginning, ‘So sweating Hot, and not a change of Linen.’ And then in modest accents did intreat, He might reserve his Canteens and his Meat.[20] ‘By no means, Sir, just now, we Sons of Mars, ‘Are glad to live on Brandy and Segars. ‘In anxious times like these, it is our plan, ‘To satisfy our hunger as we can; ‘The Ground our Bed, where we contented lie, ‘Nought interposes ’twixt us and the Sky. ‘We first must drub yon Saucy Vapouring Elves, ‘Then get our Baggage, and enjoy ourselves.’ John listen’d, scrap’d, and bow’d, and then retir’d: (Not that the Colonel’s speech he much admir’d.) ‘Come,’ said his Friend, ‘cheer up, & don’t be glum. ‘I’ve got a Biscuit, and a little Rum.’ ‘No, no,’ said John, ‘I’ll from my Canteens borrow, ‘We’ll feast to-day, altho’ we starve to-morrow. ‘Then hand out, Teague, whatever is to spare, ‘And let us all the Prog amongst us share.’ Now see him careless stretch’d upon the ground, Viewing with silent wonder all around. His brother Officers so oddly drest, Their ragged Jacket, and their purple Vest; Reg’mental Great Coats, batter’d, bare, and old; And Forage Caps that once were blue, and gold. Shirts of whose proper colour were no trace. Mustachios, Whiskers, that disguised their face. Yet all was lively, frolicsome, and gay, Full of their laughter--full of fun and play. And now John’s Hams and Tongues were all paraded, And by his hungry Friends were soon invaded; The flowing Cup they to each other bandy, They ate his Prog, and drank up all his Brandy. In course of conversation there arose A question, as to number of their Foes. One said there’s Twenty Thousand; others swore There were, they thought, _at least_ as many more: As many more at least they would maintain-- Look at their Columns stretching o’er the Plain. John started up, astonish’d to descry The Hostile Army just below them lie. ‘O bless my heart!’ said John, ‘what lots of Foes, ‘They’re scattered all about as thick as Crows.’ He view’d them with a keen, astonish’d eye, Felt rather queer to find they were so nigh. But snugly kept his thoughts within his breast, Fearful they’d turn his ignorance to jest.