As the Coldstreams were an exceedingly well-grown regiment, and for the most part deeply absorbed just then in dicing, quarrelling, chuck-penny and lively discussions on the forthcoming campaign, Tristram had found the utmost difficulty in avoiding the sheaves of legs between him and the empty mattress assigned for his use.

In his dejection of spirits it was a comfort to find that none of his future comrades turned a head to observe him.

He cast himself down on the mattress and gave vent to a profound sigh.
"Alas, Sophia!" he ingeminated, "how liable to misconception--though doubtless wise on the whole--are the rulings of Providence, which in one short hour has torn me from your soft embrace to follow a calling which I foresee I shall detest!" Unluckily this emotion, though warranted by his circumstances, proved too great for the ready-made suit which he wore.

At the first sigh two buttons burst from his jacket, one of which flew a full twelve inches and gently struck the cheek of a Dutch sergeant who was taking forty winks upon the adjacent mattress.
"Vat the devil for ?" exclaimed Sergeant Klomp, opening his eyes and glaring upon the recruit.
"I beg your pardon," said Tristram.
"Zat was in fon, hey ?" "On the contrary--" "Vat for, if not ?" "It was accidental, I assure you.

I was unbosoming myself--" "So; I will deach you to onbosom yourself of his Majesty's buttons.
Agsidental! You shall not be agsidental to me!" Sergeant Klomp rolled his eyes, and, picking up his cane, which lay beside him, rose to his feet and advanced with menace on his face.
Tristram hastily applied his syllogism.