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I wish you could have heard mamma’s screech when he talked so coolly of my going out to fight! “What! send him abroad, across the horrid, horrid sea–to be wrecked and perhaps drowned, and only to land for the purpose of fighting the wicked Frenchmen,–to be wounded, and perhaps kick–kick–killed! Oh, Thomas, Thomas! would you murder me and your boy?” There was a regular scene. However, it ended–as it always did–in mother’s getting the better, and it was settled that I should go into the militia. And why not? The uniform is just as handsome, and the danger not half so great. I don’t think in the course of my whole military experience I ever fought anything, except an old woman, who had the impudence to hallo out, “Heads up, lobster!”–Well, I joined the North Bungays, and was fairly launched into the world.

I was not a handsome man, I know; but there was SOMETHING about me–that’s very evident–for the girls always laughed when they talked to me, and the men, though they affected to call me a poor little creature, squint-eyes, knock-knees, redhead, and so on, were evidently annoyed by my success, for they hated me so confoundedly. Even at the present time they go on, though I have given up gallivanting, as I call it. But in the April of my existence,–that is, in anno Domini 1791, or so–it was a different case; and having nothing else to do, and being bent upon bettering my condition, I did some very pretty things in that way. But I was not hot-headed and imprudent, like most young fellows. Don’t fancy I looked for beauty! Pish!–I wasn’t such a fool. Nor for temper; I don’t care about a bad temper: I could break any woman’s heart in two years. What I wanted was to get on in the world. Of course I didn’t PREFER an ugly woman, or a shrew; and when the choice offered, would certainly put up with a handsome, good-humored girl, with plenty of money, as any honest man would.

Now there were two tolerably rich girls in our parts: Miss Magdalen Crutty, with twelve thousand pounds (and, to do her justice, as plain a girl as ever I saw), and Miss Mary Waters, a fine, tall, plump, smiling, peach-cheeked, golden-haired, white-skinned lass, with only ten. Mary Waters lived with her uncle, the Doctor, who had helped me into the world, and who was trusted with this little orphan charge very soon after. My mother, as you have heard, was so fond of Bates, and Bates so fond of little Mary, that both, at first, were almost always in our house; and I used to call her my little wife as soon as I could speak, and before she could walk almost. It was beautiful to see us, the neighbors said.

Well, when her brother, the lieutenant of an India ship, came to be captain, and actually gave Mary five thousand pounds, when she was about ten years old, and promised her five thousand more, there was a great talking, and bobbing, and smiling between the Doctor and my parents, and Mary and I were left together more than ever, and she was told to call me her little husband. And she did; and it was considered a settled thing from that day. She was really amazingly fond of me.

Can any one call me mercenary after that? Though Miss Crutty had twelve thousand, and Mary only ten (five in hand, and five in the bush), I stuck faithfully to Mary. As a matter of course, Miss Crutty hated Miss Waters. The fact was, Mary had all the country dangling after her, and not a soul would come to Magdalen, for all her 12,000L. I used to be attentive to her though (as it’s always useful to be); and Mary would sometimes laugh and sometimes cry at my flirting with Magdalen. This I thought proper very quickly to check. “Mary,” said I, “you know that my love for you is disinterested,–for I am faithful to you, though Miss Crutty is richer than you. Don’t fly into a rage, then, because I pay her attentions, when you know that my heart and my promise are engaged to you.”