purpose of fighting the wicked Frenchmen,--to be wounded, and perhaps
kick--kick--killed! Oh, Thomas, Thomas! would you murder me and your
boy?" There was a regular scene. However, it ended--as it always did--in
mother's getting the better, and it was settled that I should go into
the militia. And why not? The uniform is just as handsome, and the
danger not half so great. I don't think in the course of my whole
military experience I ever fought anything, except an old woman, who
had the impudence to hallo out, "Heads up, lobster!"--Well, I joined the
North Bungays, and was fairly launched into the world.

I was not a handsome man, I know; but there was SOMETHING about
me--that's very evident--for the girls always laughed when they talked
to me, and the men, though they affected to call me a poor little
creature, squint-eyes, knock-knees, redhead, and so on, were evidently
annoyed by my success, for they hated me so confoundedly. Even at the
present time they go on, though I have given up gallivanting, as I call
it. But in the April of my existence,--that is, in anno Domini 1791, or
so--it was a different case; and having nothing else to do, and being
bent upon bettering my condition, I did some very pretty things in that
way. But I was not hot-headed and imprudent, like most young fellows.
Don't fancy I looked for beauty! Pish!--I wasn't such a fool. Nor for
temper; I don't care about a bad temper: I could break any woman's heart
in two years. What I wanted was to get on in the world. Of course I
didn't PREFER an ugly woman, or a shrew; and when the choice offered,
would certainly put up with a handsome, good-humored girl, with plenty
of money, as any honest man would.

Now there were two tolerably rich girls in our parts: Miss Magdalen
Crutty, with twelve thousand pounds (and, to do her justice, as plain a
girl as ever I saw), and Miss Mary Waters, a fine, tall, plump, smiling,