asionally reach a third; but
there, faith has its limit; and if nothing palpable, tangible, and real,
intervene, scepticism ensues; and what with native sarcasm, ridicule,
and irony, they will demolish the card edifice of credit far more
rapidly than ever they raised it. For two whole days the Army of the
North occupied every man amongst us. We toasted it over our wine; we
discussed it at our quarters; we debated upon its whereabouts, its
strength, and its probable destination; but on the third morning a
terrible shock was given to our feelings by a volatile young lieutenant
of hussars exclaiming--'_Ma foi!_ I wish I could see this same Army of
the North!'

Now, although nothing was more reasonable than this wish, nor was there
any one of us who had not felt a similar desire, this sudden expression
of it struck us all most forcibly, and a shrinking sense of doubt spread
over every face, and men looked at each other as though to say--'Is the
fellow capable of supposing that such an army does not exist?' It was a
very dreadful moment--a terrible interval of struggle between the broad
daylight of belief and the black darkness of incredulity; and we turned
glances of actual dislike at the man who had so unwarrantably shaken our
settled convictions.

'I only said I should like to see them under arms,' stammered he, in the
confusion of one who saw himself exposed to public obloquy.

This half-apology came too late---the mischief was done! and we shunned
each other like men who were afraid to read the accusation of even a
shrewd glance. As for myself, I can compare my feelings only to those of
the worthy alderman, who broke out into a paroxysm of grief on hearing
that _Robinson Crusoe_ was a fiction. I believe, on that sudden
revulsion of feeling, I could have discredited any and everything. If
there was no Army of the North, was I quite sure that there was any
expedition at all? Were the generals mere freebooters, the chiefs of a
marauding venture? Were the patriots anything but a disorderly rabble
eager for robbery and bloodshed? Was Irish Independence a mere phantom?
Such were among the shocking terrors that came across my mind as I
sat in my quarters, far too dispirited and depressed to mix among my
comrades.

It had been a day of fatiguing duty, and I was not sorry, as night
fell, that I might betake myself to bed, to forget, if it might be, the
torturing doubts that troubled me. Suddenly I heard a heavy foot upon
th