talked foolish-like, and 'twas easy seen he would never be a proper
man again. The others were taken up to Plymouth, and so went their
ways; but the trumpeter stayed on in Coverack; and King George,
finding he was fit for nothing, sent him down a trifle of a pension
after a while--enough to keep him in board and lodging, with a bit of
tobacco over.

"Now the first time that this man--William Tallifer, he called
himself--met with the drummer-boy, was about a fortnight after
the little chap had bettered enough to be allowed a short walk out of
doors, which he took, if you please, in full regimentals.
There never was a soldier so proud of his dress. His own suit had
shrunk a brave bit with the salt water; but into ordinary frock an'
corduroys he declared he would not get--not if he had to go naked the
rest of his life; so my father, being a good-natured man and handy
with the needle, turned to and repaired damages with a piece or two
of scarlet cloth cut from the jacket of one of the drowned Marines.
Well, the poor little chap chanced to be standing, in this rig-out,
down by the gate of Gunner's Meadow, where they had buried two score
and over of his comrades. The morning was a fine one, early in March
month; and along came the cracked trumpeter, likewise taking a
stroll.

"'Hullo!' says he; 'good mornin'! And what might you be doin' here?'

"'I was a-wishin',' says the boy, 'I had a pair o' drum-sticks.
Our lads were buried yonder without so much as a drum tapped or a
musket fired; and that's not Christian burial for British soldiers.'

"'Phut!' says the trumpeter, and spat on the ground; 'a parcel of