apparatus of torture;' and who does, by his heroism, more than bear it,
--he puts it out of power to affect him; and though (here is the passage)
'his appointment by day and by night was incessant pain, yet high
enjoyment was, notwithstanding, the law of his existence.' Robert Hall
reads me a lesson,--me, an old soldier, who thought myself above taking
lessons,--in courage, at least. And as I came to that passage when, in
the sharp paroxysms before death, he says, 'I have not complained, have
I, sir? And I won't complain!'--when I came to that passage I started
up and cried, 'Roland de Caxton, thou hast been a coward! and an thou
hadst had thy deserts, thou hadst been cashiered, broken, and drummed
out of the regiment long ago!'"

"After all, then, my father was not so wrong,--he placed his guns right,
and fired a good shot."

"He must have been from six to nine degrees above the crest of the
parapet," said my uncle, thoughtfully,--"which, I take it, is the best
elevation, both for shot and shells in enfilading a work."

"What say you then, Captain,--up with our knapsacks, and on with the
march?"

"Right about--face!" cried my uncle, as erect as a column.

"No looking back, if we can help it."

"Full in the front of the enemy. 'Up, Guards, and at 'em!'"

"'England expects every man to do his duty!'"