violent assault from Geraghty. The refractory giant seized an ensign in each hand, and having lifted both off the ground, dashed their heads together. This was seen by some other officers and soldiers of the regiment, who all ran instantly to rescue the sufferers from Geraghty's gripe. None could, however, secure him; he raged and threatened vengeance on all who came within the length of his long arms; nor would he have surrendered had it not been for a captain in the regiment, under whose eye he pulled many a trigger against the enemy. This officer approached with a stick, seized him by the collar, and began to lay on in good style. “Leather away,” cried Geraghty, “I'll submit to _you_, Captain, and will suffer any thing; flog me, if you like. You are a good sodger, an' saw the enemy; but by J——, I'll not be insulted by brats o' boys who never smelt powdther.” The consequences of this violence of course led to punishment: Geraghty was flogged for the mutiny; he received six hundred and fifty lashes, laid heavily on; yet he never uttered a groan during the whole of this suffering; and when taken down, although bleeding, bruised, and doubtless greatly exhausted, assumed an air of insolent triumph; put on his shirt, and boldly walked off to the hospital. The body of the man was overcome,—the pallid cheek, the bloodshot eye, the livid lip, the clammy mouth—all declared it; but the spirit was wholly untouched by the lash: nothing on earth _could_ touch it. The 87th was subsequently quartered in Guernsey: here the sheriff, a little powdered personage of the forensic faculty, was the immediate cause of another punishment to Geraghty, by having preferred a complaint against him. The deepest enmity towards the civic officer arose in Geraghty's breast, and he vowed vengeance against him. It happened that after long looking out for the fulfilment of his vow, he met the sheriff one dark night in a narrow way: a moment so precious could not be wasted; so Geraghty, with an oath like the thunder of Jupiter, seized his victim by the collar of his coat and the posterior portion of his pantaloons, and having twirled him in the air just as he would a monkey, flung him “neck and crop” (as the flinger said) over the church-yard wall, which stood full seven feet high, beside the road. The sheriff received several bruises and a dislocation of the shoulder by the fall, but managed to creep home, after a little rest taken on a grave, quite as much frightened as he was hurt. Of course the necessary steps were taken next day to bring Geraghty to justice; but at the trial the sheriff failed in his evidence, having none but his own oath, while the prisoner proved that he was in bed when the roll was called, and also that he was on parade at six in the morning: the court was of opinion that the sheriff might have been mistaken, and therefore acquitted the graceless grenadier.