THE SUTTLER AND THE SOLDIER.

“Who would refuse this cheering draught?”

The suttler said, and saying, laugh'd

The soldier, then, the liquor quaff'd,

And felt right bold.

The suttler soon foresaw the rest,

And thus the son of Mars address'd,

“This brandy is the very best

Of all I've sold.

“The journey you are bound to go,

In former times, I travell'd too,

When Arnold march'd, with lord knows who,

To seize Quebec.

“And if he fail'd in that assault,

It was not, sure, the brandy's fault;

The best, at times, may make a halt,

Ay, break his neck.

“Now hear a dotard of your trade:—

Of old I lived by flint and blade,

But, disregarded, and decay'd,

I'm nothing now.

“This leaky shed is not my own,

And here I stay, unheard, unknown,

Poor Darby, and without a Joan,

Nor horse, nor cow.

“But mend your draught — I have more to say:—

You now are young, and under pay;

Be warn'd by me, whose hairs are grey;

The time will come

“When you may find this trade of arms,

The march, that now your bosom warms,

Has little but illusive charms,

Mere beat of drum:

“But yet, in such a cause as this

I deem your ardor not amiss —

I know you are no hireling swiss;

Your country calls:

“And when she calls, you must obey;

For wages not — fig for the pay —

Tis honor calls you out this day

To face the balls.

“You have to go where George Provost

Has many a soldier made a ghost,

Where indians many a prisoner roast

Or seize their scalps.

“And what of that?— mere fate of war —

God grant you may have better fare —

Go, fight beneath a kinder star,

And scourge the whelps.

“They scarce are men — mere flesh and blood —

Mere ouran-outangs of the wood,

Forever on the scent of blood,

And deers at heart.

“When men, like you, approach them nigh,

They make a yell, retreat, and fly:

On equal ground, they never try

The warrior's art.

“Then dare their strength — at honor's call

Explore the road to Montreal,

To dine, perchance, in Drummond's hall,

Perhaps in jail.

“Of all uncertain things below

The chance of war is doubly so;

For this I saw, and this I know;—

Yet, do not fail.

“To live, for months on scanty fare,

To sleep, by night in open air,

To fight, and every danger share;

All these await.

“But bear them all!— wherever led,

And live contented, though half fed:—

A couch of straw, and canvas shed

Shall be your fate!

“And mind the mark — remember me —

When full of fight, and full of glee,

Be of your brandy not too free:—

Ay, mind the mark!

“Who drinks too much, the day he fights,

Calls danger near, and death invites

To dim, or darken all his lights;—

His noon is dark!

“It is a friend in a stormy day;

Then brandy drives all care away,

But, over done, it will betray

The wisest sage.

“Then strictly guard the full canteen —

Its power enlivens every scene,

And helps to keep the soul serene

When battles rage.

“This potent stuff, if managed well,

( And strong it is, the sort I sell )

Can every doubt and fear expel,

When prudence guides.

“Though mountains rise, or rocks intrude,

This nectar smooths the roughest road,

And cheers the heart, and warms the blood

Through all its tides.

“Then drink you this, and more,” ( he said,

And held the pitcher to his head )

“This drink of gods, when Ganymede

Hands round the bowl,

“Will nerve the arm, and bid you go

Where prowls the vagrant Eskimau,

Where torpid winter tops with snow

The darkened pole,—”

“Enough, enough!” — ( the sergeant said )

“Now, suttler, he must go to bed —

See! topsy-turvy goes his head;

I hear him snort.”

“Since I know where to get my pay

( The suttler answered rather gay )

No matter what I said or say —

I've sold my quart.”