_Servant._ Plase your honor, Gintlemin, the Major sinds his compliments to yiz, an’ hopes that yiz won’t make such an uproar; becaise the Major’s lady, my misthress, has a great headache. I know, to my own knowledge, that she took physic this mornin’, an’ complained of a gripin’. (_A roar of laughter._) Oh, ’faith! I tell yiz no lies at all at all; for she’s as crass as two sticks to boot; which always shows she’s ill. _Ensign Buckskin._ Ill-tempered you mean, Sir. Go along, and tell the Major that we shall _endeavour_ to moderate our mirth; and, d’ ye hear?--very sorry for the Major’s lady. (_Exit Servant._) What the d----l have ladies to do living in barracks, I say. _Ensign Luby._ Right--hic--Barracks are only fit for single men--hic! Fire away, lads! who cares for the--hic--Major? _Ensign Newby._ Or his wife either? _Ensign Buckskin._ He’ll have us all to drill in the morning for this. So, my lads, let us drill _him_ a little now. Song--song! [_A tremendous noise is heard, something like the rolling of bricks or large stones down stairs._ _All the Mess._ Eh! what’s that? _Ensign Buckskin._ It’s the Major. He has fallen down stairs. (_A similar noise is heard nearer the door._) Here he comes--now for a wigging. Don’t laugh for a dukedom. _Voice (without)._ I’ll see who dared to serve me so--that I will. [_The door opens, and Ensign Simple, half undressed, enters, pushing before him a small donkey. A roar of laughter greets the visitors._ _Ensign Simple._ You may laugh, Gentlemen, but I am determined to have satisfaction for this disgraceful conduct. (_Another roar of laughter._) It is no joke--it is a most disgraceful liberty to take with any one; and I will not suffer it. I neither offend nor meddle with any body, and I expect nobody will meddle with me. _Lieut. Short._ What, in the name of all that’s beautiful! is the matter with you? Are you mad? _Ensign Simple._ Mad! No, Sir; but I have been disgracefully treated. This donkey, Sir, has been brought up to my room, and tied fast in my bed, Sir;--the whole of my apartment, Sir, has been dirtied and disfigured by the brute. (_Shouts of laughter._) You are all concerned in this shameful trick. Why don’t you play upon those who deserve it? I never make free with any of you. _Lieut. Short._ Perhaps that’s the reason they play tricks on you. _Ensign Simple._ Then I am determined to put it down. I bore with former insults, but I will not with this. You took a leg of mutton and a pound of butter out of my cupboard last week, and put them between my sheets, along with the fender: this I took no notice of. But to put a creature like that into my bed, dirty as he is--I’ll never bear with it. I’ll write to my father to-morrow to come down and investigate the affair. _Ensign Buckskin._ You must be a clever fellow, as well as a very presuming one, to fix the donkey-saddle on us. Who told you that _we_ did it? _Ensign Simple._ I know it was some of you, if not all.