Sam was at this time close upon seventy, but so regular had been his habits of life, so cheerful and kind his disposition, and so excellent his constitution, that he did not look more than fifty-five.
It was utterly impossible not to read the fine old soldier in every one of his free, but well-disciplined, movements.

The black stock, the bold, erect head, the firm but measured step, and the existence of something like military ardor in the eye and whole bearing; or it might be the proud consciousness of having bravely and faithfully discharged his duty to his king and his country; all this, we say, marked the man with an impress of such honest pride and frank military spirit, as, taken into consideration with his fine figure, gave the very _beau ideal_ of an old soldier.
When each had mixed his tumbler, Sam, brimful of the good news to which he had alluded, filled a small glass, as was his wont, and placing it before Beck, said: "Come, Beck, attention!--'The king, God bless him!' Attention, Dunphy!--off with it." "The king, God bless him!" having been duly honored, Sam proceeded: "Beck, my old partner, I said I had good news for you.

Our son and his regiment--three times eleven, eleven times three--the gallant thirty-third, are in Dublin." Beck laid down her stocking, and her eyes sparkled with delight.
"But that's not all, old girl, he has risen from the ranks--his commission has been just made out, and he is now a commissioned officer in his majesty's service.

But I knew it would come to that.

Didn't I say so, old comrade, eh ?" "Indeed you did, Sam," replied his wife; "and I thought as much myself.
There was something about that boy beyond the common." "Ay, you may say that, girl; but who found it out first?
Why, I did; but the thing was natural; it's all the heart of man--when that's in the right place nothing will go wrong.