I joined the gallant 14th as a volunteer; and here I am without a single regret, I must confess, that I didn't succeed in the great record of Monaghan _v_.

M'Shean." Once more the claret went briskly round, and while we canvassed Power's story, many an anecdote of military life was told, as every instant increased the charm of that career I longed for.
"Another cooper, Major," said Power.
"With all my heart," said the rosy little officer, as he touched the bell behind him; "and now let's have a song." "Yes, Power," said three or four together; "let us have 'The Irish Dragoon,' if it's only to convert your friend O'Malley there." "Here goes, then," said Dick, taking off a bumper as he began the following chant to the air of "Love is the Soul of a gay Irishman":-- THE IRISH DRAGOON.
Oh, love is the soul of an Irish dragoon In battle, in bivouac, or in saloon, From the tip of his spur to his bright sabretasche.
With his soldierly gait and his bearing so high, His gay laughing look and his light speaking eye, He frowns at his rival, he ogles his wench, He springs in his saddle and _chasses_ the French, With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche.
His spirits are high, and he little knows care, Whether sipping his claret or charging a square, With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche.
As ready to sing or to skirmish he's found, To take off his wine or to take up his ground; When the bugle may call him, how little he fears To charge forth in column and beat the Mounseers, With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche.
When the battle is over, he gayly rides back To cheer every soul in the night bivouac, With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche.
Oh, there you may see him in full glory crowned, As he sits 'midst his friends on the hardly won ground, And hear with what feeling the toast he will give, As he drinks to the land where all Irishmen live, With his jingling spur and his bright sabretasche.
It was late when we broke up; but among all the recollections of that pleasant evening none clung to me so forcibly, none sank so deeply in my heart, as the gay and careless tone of Power's manly voice; and as I fell asleep towards morning, the words of "The Irish Dragoon" were floating through my mind and followed me in my dreams..