Chapter 16

And let me the canakin clink, clink,
And let me the canakin clink.
A soldier's a man;
A life's but a span;
Why, then, let a soldier drink.
--_Othello_.

The position held by the corps of dragoons, we have already said, was a
favorite place of halting with their commander. A cluster of some half
dozen small and dilapidated buildings formed what, from the circumstance
of two roads intersecting each other at right angles, was called the
village of the Four Corners. As usual, one of the most imposing of these
edifices had been termed, in the language of the day, "a house of
entertainment for man and beast." On a rough board suspended from the
gallows-looking post that had supported the ancient sign, was, however,
written in red chalk, "Elizabeth Flanagan, her hotel," an ebullition of
the wit of some of the idle wags of the corps. The matron, whose name
had thus been exalted to an office of such unexpected dignity,
ordinarily discharged the duties of a female sutler, washerwoman, and,
to use the language of Katy Haynes, petticoat doctor to the troops. She
was the widow of a soldier who had been killed in the service, and who,
like herself, was a native of a distant island, and had early tried his
fortune in the colonies of North America. She constantly migrated with
the troops; and it was seldom that they became stationary for two days
at a time but the little cart of the bustling woman was seen driving
into the encampment loaded with such articles as she conceived would
make her presence most welcome. With a celerity that seemed almost
supernatural, Betty took up her ground and commenced her occupation.
Sometimes the cart itself was her shop; at others the soldiers made her
a rude shelter of such materials as offered; but on the present
occasion she had seized on a vacant building, and, by dint of stuffing
the dirty breeches and half-dried linen of the troopers into the broken
windows, to exclude the cold, which had now become severe, she formed
what she herself had pronounced to be "most illigant lodgings." The men
were quartered in the adjacent barns, and the officers collected in the
"Hotel Flanagan," as they facetiously called headquarters. Betty was
well known to every trooper in the corps, could call each by his
Christian or nickname, as best suited her fancy; and, although
absolutely intolerable to all whom habit had not made familiar with her
virtues, was a general favorite with these partisan warriors. Her faults
were, a trifling love of liquor, excessive filthiness, and a total
disregard of all the decencies of language; her virtues, an unbounded
love for her adopted country, perfect honesty when dealing on certain
known principles with the