Summary

Joseph Donaldson Recollections of the eventful life of a soldier (1859)

There could not be imagined a more barbarous-looking, grotesque assemblage of men in the world than a Spanish regular regiment. No two men are dressed alike—one wants shoes, another a coat, another has a slip of blanket, with a hole cut in the middle, and his head thrust through it, a lapell hanging before and another behind. It is a rare thing to find one of them with his accoutrements complete; and their arms are kept in such order, that if brought into action, the half of them would be useless. On the march they have no regularity—just like a flock of sheep
Source: Gutenberg

Joseph Donaldson Recollections of the eventful life of a soldier (1859)

You might be sure it was a bad one; for when a weaver turns lazy his web is always bad: ask him how a clever, handsome-looking fellow like him could waste his time hanging see-saw between heaven and earth, in a damp, unwholesome shop, no better than one of the dripping vaults in St Mungo’s church, when he could breathe the pure air of heaven, and have little or nothing to do, if he enlisted for a soldier,—that the weaving was going to ruin, and he had better get into some berth, or he might soon be starved.
Source: Gutenberg

Joseph Donaldson Recollections of the eventful life of a soldier (1859)

To fight in defence of one’s country, thought I—to follow the example of a Bruce or a Wallace—must be a glorious thing. Military fame seemed the only object worth living for. I already anticipated my acts of valour, charging the enemy, driving all before me, and coming back loaded with honour and a stand of French colours; receiving the praise of my commanding officer, and a commission. On I went in my career of arms, and it was impossible to stop short of being a general.
Source: Gutenberg

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