HARRY THE SOLDIER'S FIX.

New Zealand Herald, Volume V, Issue 1516, 3 October 1868, Page 7

HARRY THE SOLDIER'S FIX.

(From Chambers's Journal.) Befobe I begin to lay before the reader the fix which our brother Harry described to us lieino' the biggest he had ever met with, I would ?ust mention that he had two little peculiarities -one of temperament, the other ot habit. By temperament, lie was most mercurial and excitable Full of boisterous health, he had, m early days' always been in mischief, more, for the fun of the thins than from any wish to do what was wron o- ; and the same high spirits which in boyhood"cansed him to be tlie leader m ninny a scrape, and to be foremost in bearing the brunt ofthe punishment thereof, were possibly the chief causes of his bearing a name well known wherever Crimean deeds have been recited. More I must not say. Temple is an assumed name. Were Ito writ.' more particulars about Harry and the Crimea, his real name would most certainly be recognised. His peculiar habit was, that although he liked his glass of wine after a late dinner, and enjoyed his glass of whatever was o-oing on at night, yet no power on earth could make him touch anything in the way of strong drink before his late dinner. I have known him knocked up on a march, dead beat in the long day's shooting, parched and fagged with summer heat, blocked up ior five or mx hours in a snowdrift on the rail, seriously hurt by a fall out hunting ; but in these and similar cases, when the most temperate men would have thought a drop of something not only comfortable, but necessary, he never took any stimulant. Let circumstances be ever so pressing, or temptations ever so great, Harry never touched anything stronger than tea or water till a late dinner at six or seven. I will now give his tale in his own words. "I was on my road to join for the first time my regiment, which was then quartered at Portsmouth. There was to be a general parade at ten a.m. on Tuesday. At two p.m. the regiment was to embark for foreign parts. I ought to have been present at the parade : but my kindheaTted colonel, who was indirectly acquainted with our family, wrote to me and said, that as I might possibly be up rather late on my last night in England, and as, moreover, I could be ofno use at the parade, he would excuse my attendance there ; but he added, in somewhat peremptorv language, that no possible allowance could be made if I arrived at Portsmouth later than the one p.m. train; that I must report myself at half-past one, and embark with the regiment at two o'clock. He also, I rtmember, said something about the regiment soon going into action abroad, and liinted at- commissions having been lost by circumstances so trivial as unpuneinality on the eve of real warfare.

" Well, it was about three p. m. on tne Monday before tlie Tuesday I have alluded to ; I liad made a very lieavy lunch at New College, Oxford. The days then were those in which probably moTe strong and XXTv ale were drunk in a week at that college than are now consumed in a month. Strong and XXX had figured at our lunch, likewise sherry and champagne. I was very jolly when I left Oxford on my road for London via Bletchley. Prom Oxford to Bletchley Junction, I slept a little. When I arrived at the last-named place, I was obliged to change trains, and wait for the up-express, due in ten minutes' time. X had hot coppers (beg pardon ladies; I mean a somewhat parched mouth) after the champagne, XXX, and my sleep, so I went into the refreshment room, and had some beer. X have no doubt it was nasty heady stuff, but it cooled my feverish mouth. Excited a little with my mid-day meal, and by nature inclined to argue, I got in to some debate, I forgot what, but I believe a political one, with some gentleman, who was like myself, refreshing himself. Distinctly do I remember a bell being rung as a departing signal; distinctly do I remember the guard's voice sounding through the refreshment-room doors : ' Any more for the up-express ?' but the words fell on my hazy ears slightly like brother Ned's words when, in solemn language, he is laying down self-evident truths in his pulpit—l beg pardon, Ned ; the sequel will prove that you and the guard were right, I wrong for my inattention.

"Something—l know not what—suddenly made me think that my train, the express, was starting—had started —was off. I rushed on to the platform. The express had started. The guard's box, the last in the train, had just cleared the station. I ran hard, and could easily and safely have jumped into the guard's van— not a second-class carriage, as on some other lines, but a spacious affair opi-n behind, into which any tolerably active person could easly spring and find safety. A. wretched porter or pointsman tried to stop me; swiftly dodging him, I got ahead, and jumped on to the footboard of the carriage just in front of the guard's van. Now, in those days there was no communication between guard and engine-driver. Tn those days, too, no one carried, as most of you I daresay now do, a railway key. The doors of the carriage on to the step of which I had jumped were locked. The train, an upexpress, had pulled up at the down platform, possibly because there was a refreshment room there.

" .And so my fix was this. I was standing on the foot-board of an already very much swinging carriage. The speed was rapidly increasing, and I could not get into it. There was not much chance of the engine-driver stopping to save me, because, as I was on the off-side, it was not likely I should be noticed as we came through the stations. The guard crept along, not exactly his foot-board, for the guard's van was not made like the other carriages, but he stepped from point to point, and urged me, in every way he could, to move from my platform to his carriage. I could not —my nerves failed me. The train was getting into full swing—thirty, forty, sixty miles an hour—before 1" could make up my mind. The guard, entreating me to hold tight, retreated to his den. From time to time, I saw his kind face, looking at me with outstretched neck, and his mouth speaking, no doubt, words of encouragement and caution. They never reached me, but were borne back by the wind J3letchley way. Jifold on I did, with the grim clutch of a worse than drowning man. One, and one only, male passenger was in the carriage on the foot-board of which I was riding. He did everything he could for me ; tried to get me in through the window—a great failure; gave me brandy ; passed a sasli round my body, and held the two ends liiinself. On we sped. My hean was dizzy and turning; my hands were cramped and getting tired; my legs almost blown off; my hat quite so. I well remember the icy feel of the tunnels : the horrible earthy smell; the drops of water falling from the roof on my uncovered head ; and oh i the passing of trains ! The first I met was in a tunnel; I glued myself to the side of my carriage. The second was a luggage-train in the open. WoulJ it never come to an end? thought I; and yet 1 suppose we were only a few seconds passing it. The third seemed to be a brother-express. Phhsshttt! -I thought I had been carried off in its violent whirlwind, but awoke to a sense of what was by comparison safety, clinging yet more closely, ■*nth fast-dying grasp, to the door handle ; supported yet more firmly by the insidG passenger and his scarf; rushing through vacant windy space in the shape of corn-fields and laborers ; no, a mill or two, and a man; no, a station, where everybody's arms seem to be raised on high in horror,- no, ugh ! another luggage-train. ' More brandy,' said my kind preserver. 1 drank it. Hurrah ! wo are slackening speed—we have pulled up ! I half swoon : I find myself in the custody of railway offcials. I am accused of riding without a ticket—of getting into the train when in motion ; I am threatened with bemg given in charge. My head is young, and a ' ter its railway gallop. Brandy, ■A~X_X, and sherry—good servants, but bad masters—-assert their sway. I expected kindness ; -L meet with course roughness : I expected con-

gratolations; I meet with threats. Is it any wonder that I get into a rage ? I believe I use • strong language. I struggle to get free —I fight. ] The end is, I finpl myself in. a station-house, it. chargo of the police. Wearied, worried, not drunk, but having been overexcited, and being overexhausted with my ride of dfcath and its consequences, I fall asleep. " It was about one o'clock a.m. when I awoke. I recollected every tiling, .j I was in a room with two or three dirty fellows, naif drunlc, half asleep, who had been taken up«iu some row. There was one better-looking, gentlemanly _ dressed man, who was as drunk as possible, lying on a form, and calmly and quite hopelessly surveying with a very glassy, fishy-looking eye. I called for and saw the inspector or head man at the station. He was very kind, but very firm. He would not hear of a bribe. On good substantial bail he would not let me out, but before the police magistrate I must appear at ten o'clock that morning. Where could I, a young unknown man, get bail at that time of night ? I sat down, elbows 011 my knees, head in my hands, and thought over matters. «]S T o doubt 1 took a somewhat glopm3 r vietv of things. My iruprcssious were : Appearance as a criminal in the police-court —shame ot the thing—heavy fine, perhaps imprisonment — commission lost —report in tho regiment that I was a coward, backing out when the time for active service had arrived —character gone. "What could I do ? Two o'clock, three, four, live: the well-dressed drunkard opposite awoke from liis intoxicated slumber. He was clothed in a gay suit—l in dark brown; he had a greatcoat. —I bad none ;he had a had doubtless been picked up long a<ro near Bleteliley, and was laid by as the gala head-dress of some navvy. " Hollo !' said I to tho man opposite, ' who" are you ? What are you doing here ? • I'll be hung if I can tell,' said lie on the spur of the moment. ' But wait a bit —let me collect my scattered thoughts. Yesterday, I was a medical student of Hospital, as no doubt I still am. Last evening, I attended a supper party of a friend who tad just passed his examination. Ido not recollect getting into any row, but have no doubt T was picked up by the police drunk and insensible. I have now got a splitting head-ache. I shall be most likely lined five or ten bob by the beak, and get a lecture from him. About one o'clock, my stomach will recover its tone, and Kichard will be himself again. There is my ease. Sow, why are yon here?" he said. ' I hardlv know,' I replied. ' But wait a bit let me think.' I asked him if the police knew him, and what name he gave. ' I have no more idea than you,' he replied, ' whether the Bobbies have the honour ol being acquainted with me. I cannot tell whether I gave an3 r name. If I was able to utter any articulate sounds, I am pretty sure to have informed them that I was Mr John Smith.' I thought. IMr John Smith,' said T, 'we shall never meet again ; I neither mean nor wish to insult you. I have done nothing very criminal, and yet I am in a bigger mess than a five or ten shilling fine. Pardon me, if I insult you by my proposal. If you will change clothes with me, and names and crimes, neither of us giving our real names, I will give vou twenty pounds down, and run my chance of being first placed at the bar.' ' All very well,' said he ; ' but supposing your offence is one likely to be punished heavily, and I am called up first, I should be in a mess.' ' O no,' I replied : ' If you are called up first, I lose my game, and you still keep the money I gave £OU, and take your own offence and you own punishment. If lam fortunately called up first, I give your name, and pay your fine ; and you, when you are called up, will have no great difficulty in proving that you are not I, and were not where I was yesterday.' ' All right; done along with you, said he ; ' but I hope you are not in for murder.'

" "We changed clothes while our companions were snoring. I paid him the twenty pounds. We were duly conveyed in the prison van about half-past nine to the police court. I managed to get hold of some official, to give him a pound, and to beg him to use all his influence to get John Smith, the drunken medical student' 3 case, called on first, or very early. My bribe or bribes answered. For the first and last time, I trust, in my life, I stood in the dock. " is'o sooner had I been placed there, than I at once stated that X wished to plead guilty ; that I was very sorry for what I had done (I inward'y wondered what it was), that I had been overtaken by drink on a festive occasion, and so forth. The magistrate cut me short by saying he was glad to see I was penitent, at the same time my offence must be punished ; that it was disgraceful for a gentleman of my position to be found drunk and incapable in the streets ; that I must pay a fine of ten shillings, or go to prison for seven days. " I need hardly add that I paid the fine at once, left the court directly, and as fast as a hansom could carry me, hurried off to the Southwestern Terminus. My ruse at the police court must, I knew, be soon discovered, and though there was not much chance of my being found and taken up, yet I was very anxious to put as great a distance as I could between myself and the worthy magistrate and his subordinates. By some clever management, the case was kept out of the newspapers. I remember I anxiously scanned the police reports to see what had become of my prison acquantance, Mr. John Smith, who, dressed in my clothes, was to stand in my shoes, and take on himself my offence, but I could learn nothing. It was not until a few years after, on my return to England, that I heard what had been the end of the'matter. Feeling confident that I should not be recognised, I went to the same police court, got into conversation with one of the officials, treated him to drink, and at length, without showing any unusual interest in the story, led him on to tell me how some years back there had been the rummiest go lie ever knew in that court; how the wrong man had been fined for being what he had not been ; namely drunk and incapable : Mr. John Smith, when he was put in the dock, and charged with getting on a train at Bletchley, and then assaulting the police at Euston Square Station, not only denied the fact, but forced the witnesses to confess that he was not the man, and then, in the most impertinent manner, threatened to summon the police, the witnesses, nay, even the magistrate himself, if lie was not dismissed with a. gracious apology from all of them : how the policfi were not a little put out; &c. ' In fact, sir,' he added, ' it was the very rummiest go.' " But to return to my story. I left t®wn by the first train I could, and as I was rushing down to Portsmouth, becan to think over matters. I had certainly partly got out of my fix. I had escaped going to prison, and had been preserved from the shame of losing my comission because I had disgraced her Majesty's service, and had been saved all the worse than annoyance of a public exposure, and so forth. But even now my position was not an enviable one. It was nearly three o'clock. My regiment had embarked at two o'clock, and the unpleasant words of my colonel, as from time to time I again and again read his letter, made me feel very uncomfortable. My commission seemed anything but safe. However, after much calculation, I arrived at the conclusion that though the regiment might have embarked, the vessel could hardly have sailed, and that I should be , in time. Alas, two or three hours later, I stood ' on the pier at Portsmouth and saw the troopship Hiawatha, with every sail set and a fair wind, miles away from land. " With a heavy heart, I turned away. What could I do ? As I walked along with downcast head, I suddenly recieved a volley of abuse, and became aware that I had trodden on the gouty toes of some old naval captain. lie fid not speak mildly to me. He was not one of the new school, and he rated me with coarse language as soundly as if he had been on his own quarter deck and I had committed the most henious

offence imaginable. So rough was his tongue, ' that, under any other circumstances, I should have been fairly angry. As it was, it was a perfect chance whether I abused him or apologised. My good-fortune prevailed. '1 beg youi pardon,' I said; 'I was tco much occupied by my own miserable thoughts to see where I was going. Don't be too hard on a man that is dpwn.' And I walked away. " ' Come here, youngster,'he roared. ' Miserable thoughts, man that is do.wn —what do you mean by that nonsense at your time of life ! J ' and then reading in my distressed countenance how really upset my mind was, he spoke most kindly to mo, and said : ; I suppose you have got into some scrapc. I have a boy about your age ; I should be most tliankfnl if anyone helped him in a difficulty: tell me all about it-' I did tell him all about it, merely suppressing what had happened in London. ' I'es,'he said, 'you will lose your commission, to a dead certainty, if you no not catch that ship; and even if you do catch her you will probably be put at once under arrest. But cheer up ; I will see what I can do for you. The vast probabilities are that, before twenty-four hours arc over, we shall have an oxtremely severe south-west. gale. Very likely, the Hiawatha will be forced to put in at Plymouth. It so happens that at Plymouth I have great influence—much more thaD I havG here. I an most intimately acquainted with tho Portadmiral at Plymouth. You must get down to that town as fast as you can by posting and rail ; go at once to the Port-admiral, and give him a letter. I will now write.' In the letter, he begged his friend to have a look-out kept for the Hiawatha, and if within so many hours she did not put in to Plymouth, to send a steamer, and see if by any means she could meet with the troop-ship, and put me on board. The predicted gale came on in the coarse of a few hours. The Port-admiral at Plymouth not only received me most kindly, but gave mo a letter to Colonel , which he said might do me good. To my great delight, the Hiawatha was driven into Plymouth by stress of weather. I need hardly say I lost 110 time in going on board. I did not report myself as Ensign Temple, but asking for Colonel , said: ' Admiral begged mo to give you this letter.' I lie read it. ' Come down to my cabin, Mr Temple;' and when there, he continued ; ' The letter you have given me from Admiral is one In which he begs that, as a personal favor to himself, I will not put you under arrest, but receive you favorably in every way, if I can do so cousi.stentlj' with my duty. You do not appear to me to deserve any kindness. I treated you with unusual favor in allowing you such extended leave of absenee. In my letter to you. 1 told you in plain language what would be the consequence if you did not reach Portsmouth at the appointed hour. With plenty of time before you, and with certain results staring you in the face, you choose to absent yourself from your regiment for a longer period than you were allowed ; and, indeed, it is only by a mere chapter of accidents that you are able to join your regiment at all. .Now, before I make up my mind what to do, tell me plainly and truthfully everything connected with your absence. Do not attempt to make eiouses.'

" I told him everything, merely respectfully requesting him that he would keep my escapade quite secret. Ho attended to my tale, grew interested in my outs : de railway journey, and all but laughed at ray police adventure. To cut my story short, I will give-his parting words to me ' Mr. Temple, I had thought that probably dissipation or carelessness had detained you in town. For many reasons, I will take no notice whatever of what lias happened. If I take any notice at all, it must bo in a very serious way. Eeport yourself to the adjutant; or perhaps I had better take you to him myself, and introduce you. Make what excuses you like to your brother officers for your non-appearance, and I will not exact a promise from you, but remembr you have goi into this scrape through drinking."

"' I was not at all drunk, sir,' said I. ' JSo, I never said you were, Mr. Temple ; but being by nature of an exciteuble temperament, you did that which you would not have done had you taken no beer, champagne, or sherry for lunch ; and putting aside the bodily risk you rau, you did that which might have cost you what you value probably more than life—l mean your good name. Kow. my very strong ndvice to you, Mr. Temple, is this: Do not let any circumstances whatever lead you to drink anything strong before your dinner. I do not mean to imply that you are likely to get drunk ; but the silly habit of drinking on an empty stomach merely for drinking's sake—the silly habit of making two heavy dinners a-day, when beer, sherry, and champagne are drunk; at lunch, may or may not injure others, but will probably lead a person of your temperament to do in some moment of excitement that which you will all your life regret.'

" I promise, sir, to' ' No, don't promise, Mr. Temple. You little know the temptations which, as a young officer, you will encounter. Don't promise, but ever remember my advice." " Colonel sleeps in the Crimea; he died in my arms. Admiral and Captain —— are also both dead. <>f John Smith the medical student I know nothing; perhaps, when he reads this he may claim my acquaintance. Most religiously have I kept my dear old colonel's advice. I can safely say, that in health, in pocket, in happiness, in every way I have prospered, save as regards my wounds."—Harry glanccd at his shattered, useless, arm—" and to the last hour of my life, remembering my own early days and narrow escape, never, unless I am fully persuaded that he deserves it, will I be hard upon a youngster."

John B. Gough writes to a friend in "Ufcica : "My health is much broken, .mil my voice has failed me." A Dxsil roil an Oche.—ln the menu of a court banquet, given in the Galeric do Diane, 011 the occasion of the marriage of Prince Hubert with the Princess Margaret, one the items is that of " illets d'innocents &la Princesse .Marguerite." Wliat can filets d'innocents be? The nearest things that we can fancy, even for the banquets of people who were once believed to eat frogs, and actually do eat horse, are slices of sucking pig.

Mit. Dickens as a Vkdkstuian. —It lias been whispered during the mouth that n twelve mile walkin" match would come off during Mr. Dickens's preseut°visit to Boston, between an English friend ofliis and a well known Bostonian. No one could tell precisely the day that it would come off. The great novelist, it is well known is a superb pedestrian being good for thirty miles "011 end" any day. He has frequently during his visit to America taken very long walks with his friend Mr. J. T. Fields, and the two,we understand, accomplished several pedestrian feats together in L'nglaiul. It was resolved that a pedestrian twelve-mile contest should be tried on the- mill-dam road towards Newton, in which Air. Dolby and Air. Osgood should be the principals, and Mr. Dickons and Mr. Fields should be the umpires, the two hitter gentlemen also to walk tlie whole the whole twelve miles with their respective men. The articles, we understand, were drawn by the great author, and subscribed by all four of the «eutlcnfan. Whoever had happened to bo passing over the mill-dam on Saturday last about twelve o'clock would have met walking oyer the ground at a tremendous pace the four pedestrians appropriately costumed for the exorcise and the blustering state of the weather. We have no particulars of the walk out and in, but wo learn that the first six miles were accomplished in one hour and twenty-three minutes, and the return six miles were linislied by Mr. Osfood in one hour and twenty-live minutes, he winning the match by exactly seven minutes. The distance walked over we should judge to excecd twelve miles, and it was pretty tall pedestrianism to accomplish the whole in two hours and fortyeight minutes. Both men, accompanied by the umpires walked the whole distance. Mr. Dickons gave a dinner at the Parker House the same evening to signalise the occasion, at which were present, we understand, some of the leading literary men of our L city and vicinity.—Bonloi) Advertiser, March 4.