"May all barbers be roasted in flames; may all periwigs, bobwigs, scratchwigs, and Ramillies cocks, frizzle in purgatory from this day forth to the end of time! Mine was the ruin of me: what might Inot have been now but for that wig!
"I gave it over to Ensign Macshane, and with it went what I had quite forgotten, the large patch which I wore over one eye, which popped out fierce, staring, and lively as was ever any eye in the world.
"'Come on!' says I, and made a lunge at my Count; but he sprang back (the dog was as active as a hare, and knew, from old times, that Iwas his master with the small-sword), and his second, wondering, struck up my blade.
"'I will not fight that man,' says he, looking mighty pale. 'Iswear upon my honour that his name is Peter Brock: he was for two years my corporal, and deserted, running away with a thousand pounds of my moneys. Look at the fellow! What is the matter with his eye?
why did he wear a patch over it? But stop!' says he. 'I have more proof. Hand me my pocket-book.' And from it, sure enough, he produced the infernal proclamation announcing my desertion! 'See if the fellow has a scar across his left ear' (and I can't say, my dear, but what I have: it was done by a cursed Dutchman at the Boyne). 'Tell me if he has not got C.R. in blue upon his right arm'
(and there it is sure enough). 'Yonder swaggering Irishman may be his accomplice for what I know; but I will have no dealings with Mr.
Brock, save with a constable for a second.'
"'This is an odd story, Captain Wood,' said the old Major who acted for the Count.
"'A scounthrelly falsehood regarding me and my friend!' shouted out Mr. Macshane; 'and the Count shall answer for it.'
"'Stop, stop!' says the Major. 'Captain Wood is too gallant a gentleman, I am sure, not to satisfy the Count; and will show us that he has no such mark on his arm as only private soldiers put there.'
"'Captain Wood,' says I, 'will do no such thing, Major. I'll fight that scoundrel Galgenstein, or you, or any of you, like a man of honour; but I won't submit to be searched like a thief!'
"'No, in coorse,' said Macshane.
"'I must take my man off the ground,' says the Major.
"'Well, take him, sir,' says I, in a rage; 'and just let me have the pleasure of telling him that he's a coward and a liar; and that my lodgings are in Piccadilly, where, if ever he finds courage to meet me, he may hear of me!'
"'Faugh! I shpit on ye all,' cries my gallant ally Macshane. And sure enough he kept his word, or all but--suiting the action to it at any rate.
"And so we gathered up our clothes, and went back in our separate coaches, and no blood spilt.
"'And is it thrue now,' said Mr. Macshane, when we were alone--'is it thrue now, all these divvles have been saying?' 'Ensign,' says I, 'you're a man of the world?'
"''Deed and I am, and insign these twenty-two years.'
"'Perhaps you'd like a few pieces?' says I.
"'Faith and I should; for to tell you the secred thrut, I've not tasted mate these four days.'