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Updated: June 6, 2025
'An' the orf'cers av the rig'mint I was in in thim days was orf'cers gran' men, wid a manner on 'em, an' a way wid 'em such as is not made these days all but wan wan o' the capt'ns. A bad dhrill, a wake voice, an' a limp leg thim three things are the signs av a bad man. You bear that in your mind, Orth'ris, me son.
"That's not so bad as hintin' we should loose off on the colonel." "Colonel be sugared! I'd as soon as not put a shot through his helmet to see him jump and clutch his old horse's head. But Mulcahy talks o' shootin' our comp'ny orf'cers accidental." "He said that, did he?" said Horse Egan. "Somethin' like that, anyways.
Lemme talk to you straight f'r once will you? Or am I only offendin' you by buttin' in this way, without having ever been asked?" West gave his admirer the needed assurance. "I'm glad of it, f'r I can hardly keep it in my system any longer. Listen here, Mr. West. As you may have heard, there's to be a primary f'r city orf'cers in June.
Light work ut was, wid lashins av beer and the gurl that dhressed the orf'cers' ladies but she died in Aggra twelve years gone, an' my tongue's gettin' the betther av me. They was actin' a play thing called Sweethearts, which you may ha' heard av, an' the Colonel's daughter she was a lady's maid. The Capt'n was a boy called Broom Spread Broom was his name in the play.
"Don't tantalize wid talkin' av dhrink, or I'll shtuff you into your own breech-block an' fire you off!" grunted Mulvaney. Ortheris chuckled, and from a niche in the veranda produced six bottles of ginger ale. "Where did ye get ut, ye Machiavel?" said Mulvaney. "'Tis no bazar pop." "'Ow do Hi know wot the Orf'cers drink?" answered Ortheris. "Arst the mess-man."
'Wan day, bein' mortial idle, or they wud never ha' thried ut, the rig'mint gave amshure theatricals orf'cers an' orf'cers' ladies. You've seen the likes time an' agin, Sorr, an' poor fun 'tis for them that sit in the back row an' stamp wid their boots for the honour av the rig'mint. I was told off for to shif' the scenes, haulin' up this an' draggin' down that.
"An' the orf'cers av the rig'mint I was in in thim days was orfcers gran' men, wid a manner on 'em, an' a way wid 'em such as is not made these days all but wan wan o' the capt'ns. A bad dhrill, a wake voice, an' a limp leg thim three things are the signs av a bad man. You bear that in your mind, Orth'ris, me son.
Orf'cers was scarce in thim days, fwhat with dysintry an' not takin' care av thimselves, an' we was sint out wid only wan orf'cer for the comp'ny; but he was a Man that had his feet beneath him, an' all his teeth in their sockuts. 'Who was he? I asked. He was a Man! The Tyrone tuk a little orf'cer bhoy, but divil a bit was he in command, as I'll dimonstrate presintly.
I won't marry then, not I! I'll 'old on and learn the orf'cers' ways an' apply for exchange into a reg'ment that doesn't know all about me. Then I'll be a bloomin' orf'cer. Then I'll ask you to 'ave a glass o' sherry-wine, Mister Lew, an' you'll bloomin' well 'ave to stay in the hanty-room while the Mess-Sergeant brings it to your dirty 'ands." "'S'pose I'm going to be a Bandmaster? Not I, quite.
Thin he began sootherin' her, an' all the orf'cers an' orf'cers' ladies left, an' they put out the lights. To explain the theory av the flight, as they say at Muskthry, you must understand that afther this Sweethearts' nonsinse was ended, there was another little bit av a play called Couples some kind av couple or another. The gurl was actin' in this, but not the man.
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