We mustard very strong,--about sixty--besides two volunteers, one an invalid, because he had been ordered to ride for exercise, and the other because he had nothing else to do, and he did nothing when he came. We must have been a disagreeable site to eyes as is unaffected towards Government,--though how Hopper’s horse would behave in putting down riots I can’t guess, for he did nothing but make revolutions himself, as if he was still in the thrashing mill. But you know yeomanry an’t reglers, and can’t be expected to be veterans all at once. The worst of our mistakes was about the cullers. Old Ensign Cobb, of the White Horse, has a Political Union club meets at his house, and when he came to unfurl, he had brought the wrong flag: instead of “Royal Bumper Daggle,” it was “No Boromongers.” It made a reglar horse laugh among the cavalry; and old Cobb took such dudgeon at us, he deserted home to the White Horse, and cut the concern without drawing a sword. The Captain ordered Jack Blower to sound the recall to him, but some wag on the rout had stuck a bung up his trumpet; and he gallopped off just as crusty about it as old Cobb. Our next trouble was with Simkin, but you know he is anything but Simkin and Martial. He rid one of his own docked waggon-horses--but for appearance sake had tied on a long regulation false tale, that made his horse kick astonishing, till his four loose shoes flew off like a game at koits. Of course nobody liked to stand nigh him, and he was obliged to be drawn up in single order by himself, but not having any one to talk to, he soon got weary of it, and left the ground. This was some excuse for him--but not for Dale, that deserted from his company,--some said his horse bolted with him, but I’ll swear I seed him spur. Up to this we had only one more deserter, and that was Marks, on his iron-gray mare, for she heard her foal whinnying at home, and attended to that call more than to a deaf and dumb trumpet. Biggs didn’t come at all; he had his nag stole that very morning, as it was waiting for him, pistols and all. What with these goings off and gaps our ranks got in such disorder that the Earl, tho’ he is a Tory, was obliged to act as a rank Reformer. We got into line middling well, as far as the different sizes of our horses would admit, and the Duke rode up and down us, and I am sorry to say was compelled to a reprimand. Morgan Giles had been at a fox-hunt the day before, and persisted in wearing the brush as a feather in his cap. As fox tails isn’t regulation, his Grace ordered it out, but Morgan was very high, and at last threw up his commission into a tree and trotted home to Wickham Hall, along with private Dick, who, as Morgan’s whipper in, thought he was under obligations to follow his master.