2 V/ILi) SPOx^TS OF THE WEST; 



Would that you were near me, then should I be 

 certain of sympathy and counsel — for at this moment 

 there is not a more persecuted gentleman in the King's 

 dominions. But I will make a clean breast — and to 

 render my confessions explanatory, I must favour you 

 with some particulars of my private history. 



As autobiographers enjoy a prescriptive privilege of 

 exhibiting their ancestors, I shall take the liberty of 

 introducing my papa. In his twenty-second year, Mr. 

 Hector O'Brien was a bold Lieutenant of Grenadiers 

 in his Majesty's 50th Foot, then distinguished by the 

 flattering title of '' The Dirty Half Hundred."* My 

 father was as strapping a fellow as ever wore a wing, 

 kept a showy horse, and was decidedly the best dancer 

 in the regiment. Being quartered in the vicinity of 

 Bath, he attended the assemblies, and " in double 

 quick " managed to effect a conquest. The lady had 

 a fortune, and my father required one. Unluckily, 

 she had a brother's consent to gain ; and, on being 

 consulted, he was unmoved by importunity, and deaf 

 to " every plea of love." The case was hopeless. Mr. 

 Wamsley disliked Ireland, detested military men, and 

 above all things abominated " The Dirty Half Hun- 

 dred." 



To account for the gentleman's antipathy to this 

 celebrated corps, it will be necessary to remark that 

 the regiment was then afflicted with a mad Major. 

 His (the Major's) delight lay in drinking port wine 

 and slaying pheasants. Mr. Wamsley, on the contrary, 

 preferred water and preserved game. The Major 

 beat up preserves without remorse, and deforced keepers, 

 who, though good men and true, prudently declined 



* From their black facings, the 50th received this sobriquet. 



