“‘Arrah, Paddy, what booty have you got?’ says Corporal Blacketer. ‘Sorrow the scurragh,’ says I. ‘Och, hone to your heart, look here!’ says he; and so, your honour, he turns round upon his back, and puts his hand into his haversack, and pulls out a little silver image, that I knew at first glance was St. Peter. ‘Oh, you tief o-the-world, (says I,) what, rob a church?’--‘No, no, (says the corporal,) I had it from an honest priest, to redeem his _corpas-any-mule-he_ from danger. And see here, (opening his cartouche-box and showing another,) and here, (tapping his knapsack that bulked out,) see here! I’ve got all the saints in the calendar dacently buckled up; faith, here’s enough to make an almanack.’ “But what plased me most was, the good cheer we met with after our long voyage. I’ll engage we wasn’t long getting the camp-kettles to work. Oh, there was beef and mutton for picking up, and turkeys and chickens enough to stock all the _uphoulsterers_ in the united kingdom. Oh, your honour, didn’t we live like fighting cocks, sure?” At this moment, an elderly female called to the veteran from the door of a snug little cottage, mantled with evergreens and surrounded by a garden neatly laid out, and kept in the most exact order. “Faith! (said he) but my baccy’s ready; and will your honour condescend to walk into the cabin, to rest yees a little while?” I told him my engagements would not at that moment permit me; but as I should remain some time in the neighbourhood, I would most certainly visit him once more before I quitted that part of the country. “I hope no offence,” said he, “but I should be proud to do meself the honour of your acquaintance, so I would; and if you could make it convenient to give poor Pat a call now and then, ’twould cause joy to dance in his heart, and pleasure would stretch out the wrinkles in his withered countenance. Long life to your honour, and may God bless you!” The veteran rose from his seat, gave his hand a military flourish to his hat, and marched off in ordinary time to his cottage; whilst I pursued my way to the residence of a friend, reflecting on the vicissitudes of life. A few days after this adventure, I again visited the spot; and on advancing to the village green, I observed my friend Pat with some twenty little urchins drawn up in a line, each with a broomstick or mop-handle, going through the various evolutions of the drill-ground. He was in the first position for facing to the right; and the youngsters, with mouths and eyes wide open, were watching the motion.