They don't understand in England how to treat an army; how to make one either! "The gentleman--Mr.Weyburn: Mr.Arthur Abner's recommendation," he added hurriedly, with a light wave of his hand and a murmur, that might be the lady's title; continuing: "A young man of military tastes should take service abroad.

They're in earnest about it over there.

Here they play at it; and an army's shipped to land without commissariat, ambulances, medical stores, and march against the odds, as usual--if it can march! "Albuera, my lord ?" "Our men can spurt, for a flick o' the whip.

They're expected to be constantly ready for doing prodigies--to repair the country's omissions.
All the country cares for is to hope Dick Turpin may get to York.

Our men are good beasts; they give the best in 'em, and drop.