that night. No stockin' had I insoide me boots, no shirt had I but a
harse's quilt sewed an to me; no heart I had insoide me body; nothin' at
all but duty an' shtandin' to orders, me b'ys!

"Says Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick to me, 'Kilquhanity,' says he, 'there's
betther places than River Alma to live by,' says he. 'Faith, an' by the
Liffey I wish I was this moment'--Liffey's in ould Ireland, Frenchies!
'But, Kilquhanity,' says he, 'faith, an' it's the Liffey we'll never see
again, an' put that in yer pipe an' smoke it!' And thrue for him.

"But that night, aw that night! Ivery bone in me body was achin', and
shure me heart was achin' too, for the poor b'ys that were fightin' hard
an' gettin' little for it. Bitther cowld it was, aw, bitther cowld, and
the b'ys droppin' down, droppin', droppin', droppin', wid the Roosian
bullets in thim!

"'Kilquhanity,' says Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick to me, 'it's this
shtandin' still, while we do be droppin', droppin', that girds the soul
av yer.' Aw, the sight it was, the sight it was! The b'ys of the
rigimint shtandin' shoulder to shoulder, an' the faces av 'm blue wid
powder, an' red wid blood, an' the bits o' b'ys droppin' round me loike
twigs of an' ould tree in a shtorm. Just a cry an' a bit av a gurgle tru
the teeth, an' divil the wan o' thim would see the Liffey side anny more.
"'The Roosians are chargin'!' shouts Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick. 'The
Roosians are chargin'--here they come!' Shtandin' besoide me was a bit
of a lump of a b'y, as foine a lad as ever shtood in the boots of me
rigimint--aw! the look of his face was the look o' the dead. 'The
Roosians are comin'--they're chargin'!' says Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick,
and the bit av a b'y, that had nothin' to eat all day, throws down his
gun and turns round to run. Eighteen years old he was, only eighteen--