and he absolutely shook with passion.

"Go, Sir," said he at length, as soon as he was able to find utterance
for his words; "Go, sir, to your quarters; and before you leave them, a
court-martial shall decide, if such continued insult to your commanding
officer, warrants your name being in the Army List."

"What the devil can all this mean?" I said, in a half-whisper, turning to
the others. But there they stood, their handkerchiefs to their mouths,
and evidently choking with suppressed laughter.

"May I beg, Colonel C_____," said I----

"To your quarters, sir," roared the little man, in the voice of a lion.
And with a haughty wave of his hand, prevented all further attempt on my
part to seek explanation.

"They're all mad, every man of them," I muttered, as I betook byself
slowly back to my rooms, amid the same evidences of mirth my first
appearance had excited--which even the Colonel's presence, feared as
he was, could not entirely subdue.

With the air of a martyr I trod heavily up the stairs, and entered my
quarters, meditating within myself, awful schemes for vengeance, on the
now open tyranny of my Colonel; upon whom, I too, in my honest rectitude
of heart, vowed to have "a court-martial." I threw myself upon a chair,
and endeavoured to recollect what circumstance of the past evening could
have possibly suggested all the mirth in which both officers and men
seemed to participate equally; but nothing could I remember, capable of
solving the mystery,--surely the cruel wrongs of the manly Othello were