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prisoners. The brutes were half-drunk, and were singing love and war
songs, such as 'O Gretchen mein Taubchen, mein Herzenstrompet, Mein
Kanon, mein Heerpauk und meine Musket,' 'Prinz Eugen der edle
Ritter.' and the like; their wild whoops and jodels making doleful
discord with the groans of us captives within the waggons. Many a
time afterwards have I heard these ditties sung on the march, or in
the barrack-room, or round the fires as we lay out at night.
I was not near so unhappy, in spite of all, as I had been on my
first enlisting in Ireland. At least, thought I, if I am degraded to
be a private soldier there will be no one of my acquaintance who
will witness my shame; and that is the point which I have always
cared for most. There will be no one to say, 'There is young Redmond
Barry, the descendant or the Barrys, the fashionable young blood of
Dublin, pipeclaying his belt and carrying his brown Bess.' Indeed,
but for that opinion of the world, with which it is necessary that
every man of spirit should keep upon equal terms, I, for my part,
would have always been contented with the humblest portion. Now
here, to all intents and purposes, one was as far removed from the
world as in the wilds of Siberia, or in Robinson Crusoe's Island.
And I reasoned with myself thus:--'Now you are caught, there is no
use in repining: make the best of your situation, and get all the
pleasure you can out of it. There are a thousand opportunities of
plunder, &c., offered to the soldier in war-time, out of which he
can get both pleasure and profit: make use of these, and be happy.
Besides, you are extraordinarily brave, handsome, and clever: and
who knows but you may procure advancement in your new service?'
In this philosophical way I looked at my misfortunes, determining
not to be cast down by them; and bore woes and my broken head with
perfect magnanimity. The latter was, for the moment, an evil against
which it required no small powers of endurance to contend; for the
jolts of the waggon were dreadful, and every shake caused a throb in
my brain which I thought would have split my skull. As the morning
dawned, I saw that the man next me, a gaunt yellow-haired creature,
in black, had a cushion of straw under his head.
'Are you wounded, comrade?' said I.
'Praised be the Lord,' said he, 'I am sore hurt in spirit and body,
and bruised in many members; wounded, however, am I not. And you,
poor youth?'
'I am wounded in the head,' said I, 'and I want your pillow: give it
me--I've a clasp-knife in my pocket!' and with this I gave him a
terrible look, meaning to say (and mean it I did, for look you, A LA
GUERRE C'EST A LA GUERRE, and I am none of your milksops) that,
unless he yielded me the accommodation, I would give him a taste of
my steel.
'I would give it thee without any threat, friend,' said the yellow-
haired man meekly, and handed me over his little sack of straw.
He then leaned himself back as comfortably as he could against the
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