COUNTRY QUARTERS. THE pride, the pomp, the circumstance of war, its trappings, harness, trumpets and drums, glittering swords and flying colours, have won many male and female hearts. The latter have decided, long ago, by a majority, that “None but the brave deserve the fair ;” and the former are still divided in opinion whether love and glory, or peace and plenty, are preferable; but there is an intermediate military attraction, which draws still greater numbers, and the legion of idlers is in its favor, to a man: it is the myrtle of Venus, worn by Mars in the tranquil time of peace; the glittering maiden sabre, without rust, or ensanguined stain; the pleasures of the camp without the hardships of the bivouac ; the skilful evolutions of the field without its perils; honour without enterprize, applause without sufferings. This state of superiority may be enjoyed in town and country, in the guard-lounge of Pall-Mall, St. James's Street, and the Parks, or in any country town of the kingdom; where the Colonel, if young and handsome, is a star, and the Captain is a petty king; where milliners, mantua-makers, and plain-workers, prick their fingers in admiration of the embroidered militaire, and shapes are spoilt by the small-talk of the army irresistible. This triumph is enjoyed both by horse and foot; but as the cavalry rushes in at the close of an engagement, to complete the disorder and turn the fate of the day, so, in general, do the cavaliers and dra goons, the Hussars and Lancers, carry off the wavering and half-defeated fair. This is of no particular advantage to society, but it causes a great sensation and locomotion in the country and the victors on these occasions often run wild with the intoxication of success, and with self-conceit. The transition from this active service at head-quarters, to those occupied by a troop, or half a troop, is, like many modern gentlemen, soft, insipid, idle and unmeaning. Martial energies are here too circumscribed: all is still life, except a little private play, if there be more than one officer, or boundless intoxication, when the head visits the extremities; when a brother officer from H. Q. comes to visit the Sub, in country quarters. It is of them I am about to speak, and if a light or heavy dragoon honor me with his perusal, let him well recollect that I bear my country and its protective army in the inmost recess of my heart, and that my writings and actions prove the fact: but as an observer of the world, in my hermit's habit and retirement, I may be allowed to sport with its foibles, in common with those of all the world. Country quarters is a sentence of banishment to the hot-house plant of high fashion, and a bore (to use a common term) to the children of dissipation. In general, a pack of hounds and a hardgoing squire are the greatest resources to them; but to the conservatory plant even these are tiresome and abominable. Here the ennuyé cornet has little to do but to dress, clean his pistols, and visit the stable; to play tricks with the troops' horses and perhaps to ride them, in defiance of his majesty's regulations; and if there be no milliner or dress-maker in the village, to say soft things to his landlady; or the barmaid, or the chambermaid, will become his game. Should these be ugly, it is all the better for them; as it is for his serjeant and farrier, if their partners are weatherbeaten old campaigners; in this case, however, the proud Sub must prolong his ride, and the curate's or the apothecary's daughter is in danger, if of a romantic turn, and fond of the gilding of a man of war. His idle life will then be converted into an active siege. He has a horse that will carry a lady delightfully; he will procure novels from town for Miss Honoria, or Miss Lætitia, and he will ride out with her, if Pa permits, with three or four brace of dogs, until the dear creature is the village talk. Perhaps, too, he may condescend to fish with the curate, whilst angling for his daughter; or to ask the surgeon, chymist, druggist, and lady's doctor (all in one person) to dine with him; and make him drunk, for the furtherance of his interests with the fair; after which, it is at least six to four that the lady's case will be incurable, and that neither |