So, at the sound of that stirring call to battle, George jumped away

from the gentle arms in which he had been dallying; not without a

feeling of shame (although his wife's hold on him had been but feeble),

that he should have been detained there so long. The same feeling of

eagerness and excitement was amongst all those friends of his of whom

we have had occasional glimpses, from the stout senior Major, who led

the regiment into action, to little Stubble, the Ensign, who was to

bear its colours on that day.

The sun was just rising as the march began--it was a gallant sight--the

band led the column, playing the regimental march--then came the

Major in command, riding upon Pyramus, his stout charger--then marched

the grenadiers, their Captain at their head; in the centre were the

colours, borne by the senior and junior Ensigns--then George came

marching at the head of his company. He looked up, and smiled at

Amelia, and passed on; and even the sound of the music died away.




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