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1Author:  Herbert Henry William 1807-1858Requires cookie*
 Title:  The brothers  
 Published:  2006 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: Hastily springing to my feet, I had already donned my clothes, and was buckling on my Milan corslet, when old Martin entered my chamber, fully equipped as a supernumerary subaltern of my regiment. It was one of those customs of the day, which has, since the time of which I write, fallen completely into disuse, that every corps, independent of its regular stands of national and regimental colours, was distinguished by a smaller standard, bearing the coat-armorial of its commanding officer. This usage—which had probably originated during the civil wars, wherein each regiment was, for the most part, raised by its colonel from among his own territorial and feudatory dependants—I was particular to maintain in my own instance the more scrupulously, as being a stranger in a foreign land, and of course conscious that, unless asserted by myself, my personal dignity would not be much regarded by others. It was partly with a view to this, as well as to secure to myself a bold and trusty follower in the field, that I had solicited for the foster-brother of my father an appointment which certainly would appear more suitable for a far younger man. But no one, who had seen Martin Lydford on that morning, would have deemed it possible that nearly two-thirds of a century had passed over the head of the erect and powerful veteran, who unfolded, with a smile of daring exultation, the tattered and time-honoured banner of my ancient house. He wore a heavy antique helmet, with breast and back-pieces of bright steel; immense jack-boots, and high buff gauntlets reaching nearly to his elbows. A long broadsword of English manufacture— which, by-the-way, had done good service in its time on many a stricken field—with a poniard of formidable dimensions, completed his personal equipment. But in addition to these he carried, slung transversely across his shoulders, my petronel, a choice piece of Spanish workmanship, with an exceedingly small bore, and an indented, or, as it is now termed, a rifled[1] [1]The rifle, though a weapon of great rarity, was in use at this period; as is evident from the piece with which the regent Murray was shot, nearly a century earlier than the date of this narrative. It is preserved in the gallery of the Duke of Hamilton, and has a brass barrel slightly but distinctly rifled. barrel. It was not the fashion for officers to carry so cumbersome a weapon, but I was, at the same time, unwilling to lose a friend that had in several instances served my turn, and perhaps saved my life. The old man's eyes were full of tears as he unfurled the colours, which had not floated for many a day in action; but a sunny smile played on his lips. “Harry”—it ran thus—“once more, my own, own Harry!
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