“The thing was done—the shilling given—and the new ‘Sergeant,’ as conceited as a Colonel's pug, took his station in the ranks of the party. When the gulls asked for watches and money, seeing that Peters and I got both, the Sergeant said he had given two-and-twenty away that day, but that he had just sent up to the barracks for six-and-twenty more, as well as two hundred pounds in money. We ‘had done the trick,’ as they say, and brought in eighteen as able-bodied boobies as any in Hampshire. But what do you think we did the day after? We employed a gipsy fellow to sit in a tent all day, with a fur cap and a false beard on him, to tell fortunes in favour of us.” “Hoo the deel's that?” demanded M'Fadgen. “Why, I'll tell you. We got the tent from the store—an old marquee—and we instructed the gipsy to tell every fellow who he saw was likely to suit, that his fortune lay in a red coat; that he was to be a high officer in a marching regiment, and to marry a General's daughter—with a hundred other things; such as—that he was born to be a great man, and that he had it in his countenance. To the young women he would say, that either their brothers or their sweethearts were to be great generals in the army, and that they themselves were to be officers' ladies. The simple girls would run directly to their sweethearts, and tell what they had heard of future greatness; and it was ten to one but the booby who heard it, went first and got drunk; then, half gin half joy, entered the road to glory by a silver ticket in the shape of a shilling. It is not always that you can humbug the Irish and Scotch so: if they are not previously inclined to enlist, scarcely any thing will make them do so; indeed the Irish very often humbug the _sergeant_ out of a skinful of drink, and then hop off, without even _touching_ the silver trap. They are easier enlisted, from their poverty; but not half so easily humbugged as my countrymen, the worthy John Bulls.” “By dad, Jack,” observed Mulligan, “_you're_ no fool, at all events. I wonder how the devil they ever caught you.” “My own will,” replied Jack. “I was educated well; my parents died when I was but young. I ran away, and went on the stage, where I starved a couple of years; and having got acquainted with a sergeant in Portsmouth, I learnt the nature of the service. I examined a soldier's life thoroughly; and, on mature consideration, gave it the preference to that of a wanderer without profession or trade. I knew that if I did my duty I could be happy, and I entered determined to do it. I _have_ done it, and I _am_ happy—perhaps more so than many men in trade, who call themselves rich.”