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Ebook has 578 lines and 92353 words, and 12 pages

River Shannon--Derry Carne--Our Farm--My Sisters Get Married-- Cave--Still House--Still and Worm--Process--Interior--Revenue Police--Irish Wake--Funeral 24

Advanced School--State of the Country--Emigration--Cause of Poverty--Irish Landlords--Potato Crop--Dishonest Agents-- Election--Politics--My Sister Emigrates--I Enlist 29

Swearing In--March to Dublin--Beggars' Bush Barrack--Rations-- The City--Embarkation--The Ship--The Voyage--Liverpool--Train to London--Billets--Canterbury--Join the 17th Regiment 34

Medical Examination--Receive My Kit--Drill, Manual and Platoon Exercise--Dismissed Drill--Visit the City--Description--Route-- The March 43

Arrival at Dover--First Guard--The Dead House--Ghost--The Heights--Shaft--Fortifications--Marching Out--Chartist Riots-- Train to London--Departure--Osborne House--Main Dock--Route to Chatham--Siege--Sham Fight 50

Route to Canterbury--The March--Arrival--Chatham--Dock-yard-- Furlough to London--That Great City--Join my Company--Sheerness-- The Dock-yard--Get Married--Route to Weedon--Route to Ireland 59

Liverpool--Embark for Dublin--The Voyage--Arrival--March--The Train--The March to Castlebar--Arrival--Election--Route to Galway 70

The March--Galway--Captain Bourchier--Detachment--Regatta--Row with the Police--Route to Galway--Major Bourchier exchanges-- Captain Croker--Claddagh--Attend a Camp Meeting--The City of Galway--Theatre--Route to Dublin 82

The March--Rail to Dublin--Arrival--Garrison Duty--Castle Guard-- The Old Man's Hospital--Divine Service--Tent-Pitching--Death of the "Iron Duke"--The Funeral--The Queen Visits Dublin-- Buildings and Institutions--The Route 93

Arrival at Templemore--The Route to Cork--Embarkation for Gibraltar--Queenstown--The Voyage--Storm at Sea--Gibraltar 106

The Landing--Barrack--Garrison Duty--Old North Front--Smuggling-- Market--Queen's Birth-Day--The Dinner--Speeches--The Route--The March--Embarkation for the Crimea--The Parting--The Voyage-- Arrival at Malta 121

Maltese--Departure--A Captain Commits Suicide--The Funeral-- Small-Pox--Return--Resumed the Voyage--Grecian Arches-- Dardanelles--Gallipoli--Turkish Sentries--Constantinople-- Turkish Ladies--The Bosphorus--Voyage across the Euxine--Arrival 134

Disembarkation--First Bivouac--The March--Arrival--Sebastopol-- The Trenches--First Man Wounded--Return to Camp--An Alarm-- Lord Raglan--Sortie--Foraging--The Old Bridge--Col. Cole--The Siege 149

March to Balaklava--Return--Men go Bare-footed--Snow five feet deep--Long Boats--Hard Frost--Cavalry Division--Burial Ground-- Solitary Procession--Men Frozen--I build a Hut--Green Coffee-- Wintry Appearance--Dead Horses--63rd Regiment--Carrying Provisions--French Sick 161

Trenches--Canal of Mud--Russian New Year--Heavy Fire--On Sentry-- The Sortie--Old Brown Bess--Sortie--Arrival in Camp--New Style of Candle--Flint and Steel--Making Coffee--Heavy Snow--No Fire--Warm Clothing--Shot and Shell 171

The Railway--Lord Raglan--Cossacks--The Navvies--Russian Deserters--The Railway 182

St. Patrick's Day--Rifle Pits--Fourth Division--French Loss-- The Siege--General Attack--Flag of Truce--Burying the Dead-- Wooden Huts--Turkish Troops--Divine Service 193

Bombardment--Tents blown down--Siege--Lieut. Williams--Wounded-- Sailors--Go to Hospital--Description--Sardinians--Discharged from Hospital--Attack on Quarries--Flag of Truce--Burying the Dead 203

Bombardment--The Assault--Great Redan--The Battle--Balaklava-- Hospital--Miss Nightingale--Nurses--Promoted--Discharged from Hospital--Death of Lord Raglan 214

Captain Colthurst--Siege--Bombardment--Assault--Redan--The Battle--8th September--The Evacuation--Russians--British in Sebastopol 228

Armistice--Cessation of Hostilities--Exchange of Coins--Heir to French Imperial Throne--Treaty of Peace--Invitations--Grand Review--Removal of the Army--Embarkation--The Voyage--Ship on Fire--Arrival at Malta--Join the Reserve Battalion--Proceed to Alexandria--The Voyage--Arrival--Visit Places of Renown--Visit Cairo--The Nile--Arrival--The City--Bazaars 253

The Pyramids--Crossing the Nile--Island of Roda--Ark of Bulrushes--Visit Cheops--Heliopolis--Palace of Shoobra--Palm Groves--The Citadel--Joseph's Well--Dervishes--Return 266

The Hospital--Mohammedan Sabbath--Departure--The Voyage--Malta-- Departure--Voyage for England--Portsmouth--Voyage to Dublin-- Arrival at Limerick--The 6th Royal Regiment--Promoted--Aldershot-- Route for Gibraltar--The Voyage 281

Arrival--Spanish Bull-fights--Lieut. Jackson--Change Quarters-- The Rock--Monkeys--Caves--Gardens--War in Algiers--Corfu--Voyage-- Arrival--Santa Maria--Desertion--The March--Greeks 296

Sir Henry Storks--Albania--Visit Nicropolis--The Brigand Chief-- Turkish Baths--Coffee Houses--Turkish Ladies' Costume-- Sergeants' Ball--The Route--Corfu--Route--West Indies--The Voyage--The Burning Mountain--Gibraltar--Madeira--Teneriffe-- Santa Cruz--Cape de Verde Islands--Trinidad--Jamaica 309

Jamaica--The Exhibition--Market--Rebellion--the Commission--Col. Hobbs--The Voyage--Route--Voyage--Queen's Birth-day--Edinburgh-- Calton Hill--Tolbooth--Queen Mary's Room--Dunoon--Discharged-- Dalkeith--Glasgow--Embark for Canada--The Voyage--Arrival-- Montreal--Kingston--Picton--The Dunkin Bill--Marquis of Lorne 327

TESTIMONIALS TO THE WRITER.

I have great pleasure in stating that I have known Sergeant Thomas Faughnan for about nine years, and during most of that period he was Pay and Colour-Sergt. of my Company. He was also Sergt.-Major of a Detachment of which I had command, and I cannot say too much in his favour, either as a soldier or as a trustworthy person.

He always gave me the greatest satisfaction, in the position he was placed; both by his high sense of discipline, as well as his entire knowledge of drill, and he leaves the Regiment with the respect of every one.

Sergeant Faughnan was discharged from the 2nd Battalion, 6th Foot, in Edinburgh, May, 1868, after twenty-one years' service, with an excellent character, I have pleasure in stating that I consider him a most honest, trustworthy, respectable man; for many years he held positions of much responsibility.

I have known Sergeant Faughnan for the last five years, in the 2nd Batt. 6th Regiment, and can say that he has behaved himself very well in every way as a soldier. He was an honest, willing and sober man; he was also Mess Sergeant for several years, and gave every satisfaction, and deserves to get on in the world, and I much wish he may do so.

I have known Sergeant Thomas Faughnan, late Sergeant in the 2nd Battalion, 6th Regiment, for about ten years, during which time he served as Pay and Colour-Sergeant to a Company with great satisfaction to the Captains; also as Sergeant-Major to a Detachment, in which position, by his steady conduct and fair knowledge of drill, he commanded the respect of his superiors. He has since served as Mess and Wine Sergeant to the Battalion, and has been sober and attentive to those duties. I can recommend him as a general useful Non Commissioned officer.

I have known Sergeant Faughnan--now taking his discharge from the 6th Regiment, with a pension, after twenty one years' service--since the year 1860, and have served with him in Gibraltar, the Ionian Islands, and the West Indies. Up to 1865 he was a Colour-Sergeant of the Regiment, and as such was very much respected. About the middle of the year he became Sergeant of the Officers' Mess, in which position he remained up to the departure of the Regiment from Edinburgh, on the 22nd May, 1868. He was for about two years caterer of the said Mess, and in addition had charge of all wines, ale, &c. Thousands of pounds must have passed through his hands, for every portion of which he has had to account, and his remaining up to the last moment in the Mess is a proof of his having done so most satisfactorily. I, myself, have a very high opinion of Sergeant Faughnan for his straightforwardness, honesty, sobriety, ability, and steady good conduct. I am sure his loss will be much felt in the 6th Regiment.

I have known Sergeant T. Faughnan for the last seven years, and have always found him honest, sober, quiet and obliging. He is a good accountant, and was employed in charge of the Mess, 2nd Batt., 6th Regiment for some time, and gave every satisfaction. He was also a Colour-Sergeant and had charge and payment of a Company for some time, and resigned his colours to go to the Mess.

STIRRING INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A BRITISH SOLDIER

EDUCATION--MY SCHOOLMASTER--SCHOOL HOUSE--MY FATHER, MOTHER, SISTERS--OUR HOUSE.

I have for some time been trying to think how far back my memory could go; but, as far as I can judge, the earliest definite recollection I have is the discovery of how I played the truant, in stopping on the way-side playing pitch and toss, instead of going to school; and how I cut all the buttons of my jacket and trowsers for the purpose of gambling with other boys. After losing all my buttons, I had to pin my jacket to my trousers. In Ireland in those days, boys had to be content with gambling for buttons instead of coppers as now-a-days. I was late for school, and was rather remarkable, going in with my trousers and jacket fastened together with pins. I remember well the master called me over to him. Oh! I will never forget his spiteful countenance, and how he showed his ivories. My heart beat fast. I thought I was very wicked, and fright made my heart jump to my mouth. I had to stand my trial. Master: "Well, boy, what kept you late for school?" Before I had time to answer, "How came the buttons off your clothes; tell me straightforward at once, who cut them off, and what became of them? Hold up your head and speak out." "I--I--I--cut them off, sir, to play with the boys, and they won my buttons." "O, ho! you have been gambling, have you? I will teach you to cut the buttons off your clothes to gamble. Go, stand in that corner until I am through with the class."

"Pat Cannon, take this knife, go out and cut a strong birch, this one I have is nearly worn out. I want a strong one for this youth."

While I was standing in the corner, one of the boys, or, as we used to call them, "gossoons," stole over to me and gave me a big shawl-pin, saying: "Stick this in the boy's neck who takes you on his back." I took the pin as I was told, and nerved myself up for the occasion.

"Dan McLaughlin, take Thomas Faughnan on your back."

I was brought up in due form. "Take off your jacket; get on Dan McLaughlin's back."

No sooner had I got on his back, and before the master had time to administer the first stroke of the birch, than I sunk the big pin into the boy's neck. He shouted at the top of his voice, yelling as if he had been stabbed with a knife, and fell over the other boys, causing great commotion. In the uproar and confusion I made my escape out of the school, jacket in hand. The master stood in a state of amazement. It took him quite a while to restore order among the boys. I waited outside until the school came out, then went home with my comrades as if nothing had happened, and did not go to school again for three days. The master reported my absence. My father questioned me concerning my absence from school. I then told him the whole affair, and, as I was afraid of getting another flogging, he accompanied me to the school next day.

It will be necessary, here, to describe the master and the school. The master had only one leg and that was his right; he had lost his left when young, by some means which I never heard of; he walked with a long crutch under his left arm, and a short one in his right hand. He trotted very fast, considering that he went on crutches. He was in truth a terror to dogs or animals which dared to cross his path on his way to and from the school, and could most wonderfully use the right hand crutch with great skill and alacrity, in his own defence.

The school was held in the chapel, which was a most peculiar edifice of ancient architectural design. Its shape was that of a triangle, each side of which formed a long hall, one for boys, the other for girls; there was a gallery at the extreme end of the girls' hall which the choir occupied during divine service.

The structure was one story in height, and had a very high, slanting, thatched roof, with narrow gables. The edge of the gables rose, not in a slope, but in a succession of notches, like stairs. Altogether it had an extraordinary look about it, a look of the time when men had to fight in order to have peace, to kill in order to live--every man's hand against his brother. The altar stood in the acute corner of the angle, facing the men's hall, with a railing around it. Under the altar was a small hole sufficiently large enough for a boy to crawl in. One day I had done something for which the master started to punish my back with the birch. He was laying it on pretty stiffly, and he had me in a tight place, when, in self defence, I pulled the crutch from under him. He fell over and I retreated into the hole under the altar. However, tracing me out, he started to dislodge me with his long crutch. For every thrust he gave me, I gave him one in return, until I found he was too strong for me, when I made one drive at him, jumped out of my hiding place, and left for home in a hurry that day. Next day I expected a flogging, but I got off much easier than I had anticipated. Afterwards--how strange!--he took quite a liking to me. The number of pupils attending was over two hundred. The hall was supplied with fuel by a contribution of two turfs from each scholar every morning, which he brought under his arm.

Enough of my school history--it would spin out my narrative unnecessarily. I shall only relate such occurrences as may be necessary to lead to those main events which properly constitute my eventful history. I remember my father, but not my mother. She died when I was yet a baby, and the woman I had been taught to call mother was only my stepmother. My father had married a second time, and now our family consisted of my father, stepmother, two sisters, and myself. Our house was of olden-time stone, gray and brown. It looked very gray and yet there was a homely, comfortable appearance about it. A visitor's first step was into what would in some parts here be called "house place"--a room which served all the purposes of kitchen and dining-room. It rose to a fair height, with smoked-stained oaken beams above, and was floored with a home-made kind of cement, hard enough, and yet so worn that it required a good deal of local knowledge to avoid certain jars of the spine from sudden changes of level.

My sisters kept the furniture very clean and shining, especially the valued pewter on the dresser. The square table, with its spider-like accumulation of legs, stood under the window until meal times, when, like an animal aroused from its lair, it stretched those legs and assumed expanded, symmetrical shape, in front of the fireplace in winter, and nearer the door in summer. Its memory recalls the occasion of my stepmother, with a hand at each end of it, searching frantically for the level, poking for it with the creature's own legs before lifting the hanging leaves, and then drawing out the hitherto supernumerary legs to support them, after which would come another fresh adjustment, another hustling to and fro, that the new feet likewise might have some chance to rest. The walls of this room were always whitewashed in spring, occasioning ever a sharpened contrast with the dark brown oak ceiling. If that was ever swept I never knew. I do not remember ever seeing it done. At all events its colour remained unimpaired by hand or whitewash. On the walls hung several articles, some of them high above my head, which attracted my attention particularly. There was a fishing-rod, which required the whole length between the windows to support it. There were old bookshelves, hanging between the old pewter, of which we were very proud; my father's temperance medal, which he received from Father Mathew; a picture of Dan O'Connell, the "Irish Liberator;" several other pictures, and many articles of antique and Irish origin. I need not linger over these things. Their proper place is in the picture with which I would save words and help understanding if I could.

MY NATIVE VILLAGE.

Dear Fiarana! loveliest village of the green. Where humble happiness endeared each scene; The never-failing brook at Drumod Mill, The parish church on John Nutley's hill.

There in the old thatched chapel, skilled to rule, The one-legged master taught the parish school; A learned man was he, but stern to view-- His crutch he often used, and well the gossoons knew.

Well had the daring urchins learned to trace His scowling countenance and his fierce grimace; And yet they laughed with much delight and glee At all his tales, for many a one had he.

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