Julia was now red, now white;
the Colonel stretched forward, took the fork out of the calf of my leg,
wiped it, and then seized a bundle of letters which I had remarked by
his side.
"A cornet!" said he, in a voice choking with emotion; "a pitiful,
beggarly Irish cornet aspire to the hand of Julia Jowler! Gag, Gahagan,
are you mad, or laughing at us? Look at these letters, young man--at
these letters, I say--one hundred and twenty-four epistles from every
part of India (not including one from the Governor-General, and six from
his brother, Colonel Wellesley,)--one hundred and twenty-four proposals
for the hand of Miss Jowler! Cornet Gahagan," he continued, "I wish to
think well of you: you are the bravest, the most modest, and, perhaps,
the handsomest man in our corps; but you have not got a single rupee.
You ask me for Julia, and you do not possess even an anna!"--(Here the
old rogue grinned, as if he had made a capital pun).--"No, no," said he,
waxing good-natured; "Gagy, my boy, it is nonsense! Julia, love, retire
with your mamma; this silly young gentleman will remain and smoke a pipe
with me."
I took one; it was the bitterest chillum I ever smoked in my life.
*****
I am not going to give here an account of my military services; they
will appear in my great national autobiography, in forty volumes,
which I am now preparing for the press.
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