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Updated: May 9, 2025
About 200 of us drove them down one street, and didn't the devils squeal. We came upon a mass of them in the main thoroughfare, but they soon lost heart and we actually climbed over their dead and wounded which were heaped up, to get at the others." "What a sight it was, and how our fellows yelled!" says another Coldstreamer, describing the same exploit.
And Bertie, exhausted with making such a lengthened exposition the speeches he preferred were monosyllabic completed his sins against training with a long draught of claret-cup. "Then what the devil do you mean by telling us to pile our pots on you?" asked the outraged Coldstreamer, with natural wrath. "Faith is a beautiful sight!" said Bertie, with solemnity.
Stephen's; and one mutinous Coldstreamer was even rash enough and false enough to his colors to meditate deserting to the enemy's camp, and giving himself up at St. George's "because a fellow once hanged is let alone, you know!" The Household were very hard pressed through the season a crowded and brilliant one; and Cecil was in request most of all.
The rest of his condemning judges laughed, and passed the plea of sympathy; the Coldstreamer alone remained censorious and untouched. "Pull you down! You'll never pull off the race if you sit drinking liqueurs all the morning!" growled that censor. "Look at that!" Bertie glanced at the London telegram tossed across to him, sent from a private and confidential agent.
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