The Commandant now took up the debate: ‘Our Troops no doubt at first were in sad state; ‘All Ranks and all Departments were the same; ‘The Chief harsh censures was obliged to frame: ‘Reduced by Discipline, not now so Fiery, ‘Our Book of Orders is a Newgate Diary. ‘The way I estimate a British Soldier-- ‘He’s stouter than a Frenchman, and is bolder; ‘But such a set of wanton idle Knaves![37] ‘You’re forced, by G--d! to treat them all like Slaves. ‘It shocks one’s nature, outrages one’s feeling, ‘Compell’d to use such rough and rigorous dealing.’ ‘Idle,’ says one, ‘see them on out-post planted, ‘A cold and frosty Night, and firing wanted; ‘Tho’ merely for their comfort and their good, ‘No man will Volunteer to fetch in wood.[38] ‘Orders I’ve given, and very often Rum for’t-- ‘You’re forced to coax them, to consult their comfort. ‘Look at the French; those active lively Elves ‘Are always Devilish careful of themselves. ‘John Bull will Fight, and take their Post by Storm, ‘Then coolly round their Fires have a warm.’ The Toast went round, & then with brimmers flowing, The Guests were getting wiser, and more knowing. ‘Here come, my friends,’ says Ward, ‘each take your Potion, ‘Here’s to a speedy and a quick Promotion!’ ‘Aye,’ says another, ‘that’s all mere derision; ‘Promotion’s one thing--give me the provision. ‘What signifies the Rank; with truth I say, ‘Some Generals have but half a pound a Day[39];-- ‘High Rank no doubt is merely but a Cheat, ‘Unless with it we something get to eat. ‘Men who have interest rise, there is no doubt; ‘The Rich get all--the poor Man goes without.’ ‘Merit,’ says B--n, ‘it is my fixed belief, ‘Leads merely to Promotion with our Chief. ‘Some instances, I candidly must own, ‘That don’t originate with Him alone. ‘Others are oft indulged to recommend ‘(A small convenience to serve a Friend); ‘And when for folly, interest makes a Push, ‘The Chief assents, no doubt, but with a Blush.’ ‘Ah, well! some rise, we know, without _Achievance_.[40] ‘You know, Friend B--n, we’ve every one our Grievance. ‘Come, push about the Glass, and drown Hostilities-- ‘Men who have interest rise, D--n their Abilities.’ ‘True, honest Ward,’ says John; ‘I’m one I know it: ‘Give us a Song, my Boy! a good one--go it!’ Now Song and Glass, and Glee alternate roll, Reason now left it to the flow of Soul. At length, good Night! and John got in his Chaise; He’d not forgot the Feast of former Days. The Fleet arriv’d, his Equipage on Shore, As John considered purchasing a Bore. His Groom four Mules had bought, for he was heedful, With all the Tackle, every thing was needful. John took his leave, with all things in good plight, Dashed with his Suite, for Santarem that Night. END OF PART I. OF SEQUEL [Illustration: _Dash’d with his Suite for Santarem that Night._] FOOTNOTES