The soul of the
Regiment
lives
in the Drum-Horse, who carries the silver kettle-drums.
in the Drum-Horse, who carries the silver kettle-drums.
Kipling - Poems
If this is not a
sufficient mark, you may know them by their old brandy. It has been
sixty years in the Mess and is worth going far to taste.
Ask for the "McGaire" old brandy, and see that you get it. If the Mess
Sergeant thinks that you are uneducated, and that the genuine article
will be lost on you, he will treat you accordingly. He is a good man.
But, when you are at Mess, you must never talk to your hosts about
forced marches or long-distance rides. The Mess are very sensitive; and,
if they think that you are laughing at them, will tell you so.
As the White Hussars say, it was all the Colonel's fault. He was a new
man, and he ought never to have taken the Command. He said that the
Regiment was not smart enough. This to the White Hussars, who knew they
could walk round any Horse and through any Guns, and over any Foot on
the face of the earth! That insult was the first cause of offence.
Then the Colonel cast the Drum-Horse--the Drum-Horse of the White
Hussars! Perhaps you do not see what an unspeakable crime he had
committed. I will try to make it clear.
The soul of the Regiment lives
in the Drum-Horse, who carries the silver kettle-drums. He is nearly
always a big piebald Waler. That is a point of honor; and a Regiment
will spend anything you please on a piebald. He is beyond the ordinary
laws of casting. His work is very light, and he only manoeuvres at a
foot-pace. Wherefore, so long as he can step out and look handsome,
his well-being is assured. He knows more about the Regiment than the
Adjutant, and could not make a mistake if he tried.
The Drum-Horse of the White Hussars was only eighteen years old, and
perfectly equal to his duties. He had at least six years' more work in
him, and carried himself with all the pomp and dignity of a Drum-Major
of the Guards. The Regiment had paid Rs. 1,200 for him.
But the Colonel said that he must go, and he was cast in due form and
replaced by a washy, bay beast as ugly as a mule, with a ewe-neck,
rat-tail, and cow-hocks. The Drummer detested that animal, and the best
of the Band-horses put back their ears and showed the whites of their
eyes at the very sight of him. They knew him for an upstart and no
gentleman. I fancy that the Colonel's ideas of smartness extended to
the Band, and that he wanted to make it take part in the regular parade
movements. A Cavalry Band is a sacred thing.
sufficient mark, you may know them by their old brandy. It has been
sixty years in the Mess and is worth going far to taste.
Ask for the "McGaire" old brandy, and see that you get it. If the Mess
Sergeant thinks that you are uneducated, and that the genuine article
will be lost on you, he will treat you accordingly. He is a good man.
But, when you are at Mess, you must never talk to your hosts about
forced marches or long-distance rides. The Mess are very sensitive; and,
if they think that you are laughing at them, will tell you so.
As the White Hussars say, it was all the Colonel's fault. He was a new
man, and he ought never to have taken the Command. He said that the
Regiment was not smart enough. This to the White Hussars, who knew they
could walk round any Horse and through any Guns, and over any Foot on
the face of the earth! That insult was the first cause of offence.
Then the Colonel cast the Drum-Horse--the Drum-Horse of the White
Hussars! Perhaps you do not see what an unspeakable crime he had
committed. I will try to make it clear.
The soul of the Regiment lives
in the Drum-Horse, who carries the silver kettle-drums. He is nearly
always a big piebald Waler. That is a point of honor; and a Regiment
will spend anything you please on a piebald. He is beyond the ordinary
laws of casting. His work is very light, and he only manoeuvres at a
foot-pace. Wherefore, so long as he can step out and look handsome,
his well-being is assured. He knows more about the Regiment than the
Adjutant, and could not make a mistake if he tried.
The Drum-Horse of the White Hussars was only eighteen years old, and
perfectly equal to his duties. He had at least six years' more work in
him, and carried himself with all the pomp and dignity of a Drum-Major
of the Guards. The Regiment had paid Rs. 1,200 for him.
But the Colonel said that he must go, and he was cast in due form and
replaced by a washy, bay beast as ugly as a mule, with a ewe-neck,
rat-tail, and cow-hocks. The Drummer detested that animal, and the best
of the Band-horses put back their ears and showed the whites of their
eyes at the very sight of him. They knew him for an upstart and no
gentleman. I fancy that the Colonel's ideas of smartness extended to
the Band, and that he wanted to make it take part in the regular parade
movements. A Cavalry Band is a sacred thing.
