"Becoose, Veelliers, she seems to have art enoof, and,
to gi' the witch her due, beauty enoof to make a mon play
the rule, an' she tak it into her heed.

"By George, you are right, Cranstoun," said a remarkably
bow-legged, shoulder-of-mutton-fisted, Ensign, whose
sharp face, glowing as a harvest moon, made one feel
absolutely hot in his presence--a sensation that was by
no means diminished by his nasal tone and confident
manner; "I have no fancy for your pale faced people who,
even while their eyes are flashing anger upon all around,
show you a cheek as cold and as pale as a turnip--they're
alway so cursed deep. Don't you think so Granville, old
fellow?

"Too deep for you I dare say, Mr. Langley," observed the
officer last named, (a Captain of Light Infantry) with
a slight degree of sarcasm, for he liked not the vulgar
familiarity of the recently-joined Ensign's address;
"however, be that as it may, I will wager a score of
flour barrels, or even pork barrels, if you prefer them,
that you cannot show me a finer girl. Were I a marrying
man," he continued addressing his companions generally,
"I do not know a woman I would sooner choose to share my
barrack room with me."

"Bravo! bravo! propose to her Granville propose! propose!"
shouted two or three young and joyous voices, amid the
loud clapping of hands; "but what do you mean by offering
Langley so singular a bet?"