Early as the hour was, the townspeople were all up, and waiting to see the regiment march off. The glass--the parting glass--of strong whisky was doing its duty briskly; the officers were bustling about; the soldiers wives sorrowful enough, mounted on the baggage, with their children--many of them were to be left behind the regiment on embarkation, and none of them knew which. Little groups were here and there detached from the ground on which the regiment was to form, generally composed of soldiers and a few of the people with whom they had been on habits of intimacy. Several couples of lovers stood interestingly conversing, or in melancholy silence: among these was a young soldier and a remarkably pretty girl--she was weeping, while he held her hand and endeavoured to sooth her almost breaking heart. This was Jack Andrews and this his sweetheart to whom he was betrothed:--they were to have been married in a few weeks, when the route came which was now about to separate them for a considerable time--if not for ever. Her mother now came up to her, and although evidently affected at her daughter’s situation, put on an appearance of gaiety which only made things worse. Andrews loved the girl, and it is but just to say she was worthy of his most tender regard: all the town, as well as the regiment, knew of their attachment. The girl had two hundred pounds fortune. Jack Andrews was to have purchased his discharge, and to have settled in Ireland, along with Ellen Hart (that was her name). All her friends highly approved of the match; for Jack was as amiable and as good-looking a man as any in the regiment to which he belonged. Corporal Callaghan, having dispatched his own affairs with those numerous acquaintances which a fellow of his peculiarly pleasant and sociable qualities must naturally possess, when domiciled for a very considerable time in an Irish country town, now came up to Andrews, and tapping him on the shoulder, exclaimed, “Blood an’ ouns! Jack, my boy, I’m sorry Ellen Hart is not coming along with us. Can’t you ax her mother, there, to let her go?--Ellen, give us your hand. By the powers! if I had such another as you, I’d have you up at the top o’ the baggage, there, with Mrs. Mullowny, in a jiffy. The divil a toe you should stay behind me.” Andrews smiled and sighed; Ellen’s tears only fell faster, and her mother was about to reply, when her attention was arrested by another object. “Here,” said she, “is my uncle--poor old man! he hasn’t seen you this whole year, Ellen; so don’t be so sorrowful-looking.”