Chapter 33 - Page 2

raising her head, in order to vindicate some
of her favorite maxims, and now composing it to sleep.

"So, sergeant," continued Sitgreaves, following up a previous position,
"if you cut upwards, the blow, by losing the additional momentum of your
weight, will be less destructive, and at the same time effect the true
purpose of war, that of disabling your enemy."

"Pooh! pooh! sergeant dear," said the washerwoman, raising her head from
the blanket, "where's the harm of taking a life, jist in the way of
battle? Is it the rig'lars who'll show favor, and they fighting? Ask
Captain Jack there, if the country could get free, and the boys no
strike their might. I wouldn't have them disparage the whisky so much."

"It is not to be expected that an ignorant female like yourself, Mrs.
Flanagan," returned the surgeon, with a calmness that only rendered his
contempt more stinging to Betty, "can comprehend the distinctions of
surgical science; neither are you accomplished in the sword exercise; so
that dissertations upon the judicious use of that weapon could avail you
nothing either in theory or in practice."

"It's hut little I care, anyway, for such botherment; but fighting is
no play, and a body shouldn't be particular how they strike, or who they
hit, so it's the inimy."

"Are we likely to have a warm day, Captain Lawton?"

"'Tis more than probable," replied the trooper; "these militia seldom
fail of making a bloody field, either by their cowardice or their
ignorance, and the real soldier is made to suffer for their
bad conduct."

"Are you ill, John?" said the surgeon, passing his hand along the arm of
the captain, until it instinctively settled on his pulse; but the
steady, even beat announced neither bodily nor mental malady.

"Sick at heart, Archibald, at the folly of our rulers, in believing that
battles are to be fought and victories won, by fellows who handle a
musket as they would a flail; lads who wink when they pull a trigger,
and form a line like a hoop pole. The dependence we place on these men
spills the best blood of the country."

The surgeon listened with amazement. It was not the matter, but the
manner that surprised him. The trooper had uniformly exhibited, on the
eve of battle, an animation, and an eagerness to engage, that was
directly at variance with the admirable coolness of his manner at other
times. But now there was a despondency in the tones of his voice, and a
listlessness in his air, that was entirely different. The operator
hesitated a moment, to reflect in what manner he could render this
change of service in furthering his favorite system,