d. "I think I should rather like it. It seems a
pretty uniform."

"Pretty!" said Randolph. "By the Lord Harry, it's the splashest affair
possible! I'll tell you what, M'Whirter, I'll back you in the yeoman's
jacket and pantaloons against the Apollo Belvidere."

"It is regular Queen's service, isn't it?"

"Of course it is. Only we have no flogging."

"That's no great disadvantage. Well, upon my word, I have a great
mind"----

"Then, by Jove, there goes the very man! Hallo--Hargate, I say--Tom
Hargate!"

"What's the row?"

"Here's a new recruit for you. George M'Whirter, W.S. Book him down, and
credit me with the bounty money."

"The Edinburgh squadron, of course," said Hargate, presenting me with a
shilling.

"Don't be in a hurry," said one of my friends. "There are better lancers
than the Templars. The Dalmahoy die, but they never surrender!"

"Barnton _a la rescousse_!" cried another.

"No douking in the Dalkeith!" observed a third.

"Nonsense, boys! you are confounding him. M'Whirter and Anthony Whaup
shall charge side by side, and woe betide the insurgent who crosses
their path!" said Randolph. "So the sooner you look after your
equipments the better."

In this identical manner was I enrolled as a full private in the
Edinburgh squadron of the Mid-Lothian Yeomanry Cavalry.

CHAPTER II.

I confess that a thrill of considerable exultation pervaded my frame,
as I beheld one morning on my dressing-table a parcel which conscience
whispered to me contained the masterpiece of Buckmaster. With
palpitating hand I cut the cord, undid the brown paper foldings, and
feasted my eyes in a trance of ecstasy upon the pantaloons, all gorgeous
with the red stripe; upon the jacket glittering with its galaxy of
buttons, and the polished glory of the shoulder-scales. Not hurriedly,
but with a protracted sense of keen enjoyment, I cased myself in the
military shell, slung on the pouch-belt, buckled the sabre, and finally
adjusted the magnificent helmet on my brows. I looked into the mirror,
and scarcely could recognise the counterpart of Mars which confronted
me.

"'Od's scimitars!" cried I, unsheathing my Bilboa, and dealing, with a
reckless disregard to expense, a terrific cut at the bed-post--"Let me
catch any fellow saying that the yeomanry is not a constitutional
force!"

And so I strode into the breakfast-room, where my old housekeeper was
adjusting the materials for the matutinal meal.

"Lord save us a'!"