Cover created by Transcriber and placed into the Public Domain.

ADVENTURES IN THE RIFLE BRIGADE
IN THE
PENINSULA, FRANCE,
AND THE
NETHERLANDS,
From the Year 1809 to 1815;

By CAPTAIN JOHN KINCAID, First Battalion.

One vol. post 8vo. price 10s. 6d. boards.

"To those who are unacquainted with John Kincaid of the Rifles,—and few, we trow, of the old Peninsula bands are in this ignorant predicament, and to those who know him, we equally recommend the perusal of his book: it is a fac simile of the man,—a perfect reflection of his image, veluti in speculo. A capital Soldier, a pithy and graphic narrator, and a fellow of infinite jest. Captain Kincaid has given us, in this modest volume, the impress of his qualities, the beau ideal of a thorough-going Soldier of Service, and the faithful and witty history of some six years' honest and triumphant fighting.

"There is nothing extant in a Soldier's Journal, which, with so little pretension, paints with such truth and raciness the "domestic economy" of campaigning, and the downright business of handling the enemy.

"But we cannot follow further;—recommending every one of our readers to pursue the Author himself to his crowning scene of Waterloo, where they will find him as quaint and original as at his debut. We assure them, it is not possible, by isolated extracts, to give a suitable impression of the spirit and originality which never flag from beginning to end of Captain Kincaid's volume; in every page of which he throws out flashes of native humour, a tithe of which would make the fortune of a Grub-street Bookmaker."—United Service Journal.

"We do not recollect one, among the scores of personal narratives, where the reader will find more of the realities of a Soldier's Life, or of the horrors that mark it; all is told gaily, but not unfeelingly."—New Monthly Magazine, July.

"His book has one fault, the rarest fault in books, it is too short."—Monthly Magazine, April.

"His book is one of the most lively histories of Soldiers' Adventures which have yet appeared; their entire freedom from affectation will sufficiently recommend them to a numerous class of readers."—Athenæum.

"Kincaid's Adventures in the Rifle Brigade is written with all the frankness and freedom from study which bespeaks the gallant soldier, one to whom the sword is more adapted than the pen, but who, as now cedunt arma togæ, has, in these 'piping times' of peace, determined to 'fight all his battles over again,' and he fights them in a style interesting and graphic. The remarks on the decisive termination of the Battle of Waterloo are striking and convincing; and to them and the whole book we refer our readers for much amusement and information."—The Age.

"This is an excellent and amusing book; and although it neither gives, nor pretends to give, lessons in strategy, or a true history of the great operations of our armies, we hold it to be a very instructive work. Napier, it is true, continues to be our textbook in the art of war; but, even in his work, there is something awanting, something which a due attention to historical etiquette prevents his conveying to us. He shows most satisfactorily the talents of our generals, and the morale of our army; but there is an insight into its composition which he cannot give us, and which, indeed, nothing can give but a wide personal acquaintance with military men, and lots of volumes like the present."—Edinburgh Literary Journal.

"Il est rare que les aventures arrivées à un seul personnage et racontées par lui intéressent le public au point de faire obtenir à ses mémoires un véritable succès; mais il en est autrement quand l'auteur a su habilement accompagner son histoire du récit de faits et d'événemens qui ont déjá fixé l'attention publique. L'ouvrage du Capitaine Kincaid est intéressant sous ces deux points de vue et sera favorablement accueilli. En même tems qu'on suit avec plaisir la marche de ses aventures, on recueille une foule de détails ignorés sur les campagnes de 1809 à 1815."—Furet de Londres.

RANDOM SHOTS
FROM A
RIFLEMAN.

BY J. KINCAID,
Late Captain in, and Author of "Adventures in the Rifle Brigade."

SECOND EDITION.

LONDON:
T. AND W. BOONE, 29, NEW BOND STREET.
M DCCC XLVII.

TO
MAJOR-GENERAL
LORD FITZROY SOMERSET, K.C.B.
&c. &c. &c.
THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED
BY HIS VERY OBEDIENT
AND VERY OBLIGED HUMBLE SERVANT,

J. KINCAID.

[NOTICE.]

When I sent my volume of "Adventures in the Rifle Brigade" into the world, some one of its many kind and indulgent critics was imprudent enough to say that "it had one fault, the rarest fault in books—it was too short;" and while I have therefore endeavoured to acquit myself of such an unlooked-for charge by sending this additional one, I need only observe that if it also fails to satisfy, they may have "yet another."

Like its predecessor, this volume is drawn solely from memory, and of course open to error; but of this my readers may feel assured, that it is free from romance; for even in the few soldiers' yarns which I have thought fit to introduce, the leading features are facts.

Lastly, in making my second editorial bow to the public, let me assure them that it is with no greater literary pretensions. I sent forth my first volume contrary to my own judgement; but rough and unpolished as it was, it pleased a numerous class of readers, and I therefore trust to be forgiven for marching past again to the same tune, in the hope that my reviewing generals may make the same favourable report of me in their orderly books.

ERRATUM.

[Page 11], line 2, for remarkable, read remarkably.

[CONTENTS.]

RANDOM SHOTS
FROM
A RIFLEMAN.

[CHAPTER I.]
Family Pictures, with select Views of the Estate, fenced with distant Prospects.

Every book has a beginning, and the beginning of every book is the undoubted spot on which the historian is bound to parade his hero. The novelist may therefore continue to envelope his man in a fog as long as he likes, but for myself I shall at once unfold to the world that I am my own hero; and though that same world hold my countrymen to be rich in wants, with the article of modesty among them, yet do I hope to maintain the character I have assumed, with as much propriety as can reasonably be expected of one labouring under such a national infirmity, for

"I am a native of that land, which
Some poets' lips and painters' hands"

have pictured barren and treeless. But to shew that these are mere fancy sketches, I need only mention that as long as I remember anything, there grew a bonny brier and sundry gooseberry bushes in our kail-yard, and it was surrounded by a stately row of pines, rearing their long spinster waists and umbrella heads over the cabbages, as carefully as a hen does her wings over her brood of chickens, so that neither the sun nor moon, and but a very few favoured stars had the slightest chance of getting a peep therein, nor had anything therein a chance of getting a peep out, unless in the cabbages returning the sheep's eyes of their star-gazers; for, while the front was protected by a long range of house and offices, with no ingress or egress but through the hall-door, the same duty was performed on the other three sides by a thick quick-set hedge which was impervious to all but the sparrows, so that the wondrous wise man of Islington might there have scratched his eyes out and in again a dozen times without being much the wiser.

My father was the laird and farmed the small property I speak of, in the lowlands of Stirlingshire, but he was unfortunately cut off in early life, and long before his young family were capable of appreciating the extent of their loss, and I may add, to the universal regret of the community to which he belonged; and in no country have I met, in the same walks of life, a body of men to equal in intelligence, prudence, and respectability, the small lowland Scotch laird.

Marrying and dying are ceremonies which almost every one has to go through at some period of his life, and from being so common, one would expect that they might cease to be uncommon; but people, nevertheless, still continue to look upon them as important events in their individual histories. And while, with the class I speak of, the joys of the one and the grief at the other was as sensibly and unaffectedly shewn as amongst any, yet with them the loss of the head of the house produces no very material change in the family arrangements; for while in some places the proprietary of a sheep confers a sort of patent of gentility upon the whole flock, leaving as a bequest a scramble for supremacy, yet the lowland laird is another manner of man; one in fact who is not afraid to reckon his chickens before they are hatched, and who suffers no son of his to be born out of his proper place. The eldest therefore steps into his father's shoes as naturally as his father steps out of them. The second is destined to be a gentleman, that is, he receives a superior education, and as soon as he is deemed qualified, he is started off with a tolerable outfit and some ha'pence in his pocket to fulfil his destiny in one of the armed or learned professions, while the junior members of the family are put in such other way of shifting for themselves as taste and prudence may point out. And having thus, gentle reader, expounded as much of my family history as it behoveth thee to know, it only remains for me, with all becoming modesty, to introduce myself to you as, by birthright, the gentleman of the family, and without further ceremony to take you by the hand and conduct you along the path which I found chalked out for myself.

In my native country, as elsewhere, Dame Fortune is to be seen cutting her usual capers, and often sends a man starving for a life-time as a parson looking for a pulpit, a doctor dining on his own pills, or as a lawyer who has nothing to insert in his last earthly testament, who would otherwise have flourished on the top of a hay-stack, or as a cooper round a tar-barrel. How far she was indulgent in my case is a matter of moonshine. Suffice it that I commenced the usual process at the usual place, the parish school, under that most active of all teachers—Whipping,

"That's Virtue's governess,
Tutress of arts and sciences;
That mends the gross mistakes of nature,
And puts new life into dull matter."

And from the first letter in the alphabet I was successively flogged up through a tolerable quantity of English, some ten or a dozen books of Latin, into three or four of French, and there is no saying whether the cat-o'-nine tails, wielded by such a masterly hand, might not eventually have stirred me up as high as the woolsack, had not one of those tides in the affairs of school-boys brought a Leith merchant to a worthy old uncle of mine (who was one of my guardians) in search of a quill-driver, and turned the current of my thoughts into another channel. To be or not to be, that was the question; whether 'twere better to abide more stings and scourges from the outrageous cat, or to take the offer which was made, and end them.

It may readily be believed that I felt a suitable horror at the sight of the leathern instrument which had been so long and so ably administered for my edification, nor had I much greater affection for the learned professions as they loomed in perspective, for I feared the minister, hated the doctor, and had no respect for the lawyer, and in short it required but little persuasion to induce me to bind my prospects for the ensuing three years to the desk of a counting-house. I therefore took leave of my indefatigable preceptor, not forgetting to insert on the tablets of my memory, a promissory note to repay him stripe for stripe with legal interest, as soon as I should find myself qualified to perform the operation; but I need not add that the note (as all such notes usually are) was duly dishonoured; for, when I became capable of appreciating his virtues, I found him a worthy excellent man, and one who meant for the best; but I have lived to see that the schoolmaster of that day was all abroad.

The reminiscences of my three years' mercantile life leave me nothing worth recording, except that it was then I first caught a glimpse of my natal star.

I had left school as a school-boy, unconscious of a feeling beyond the passing moment. But the period at length arrived when Buonaparte's threatened invasion fired every loyal pair of shoulders with a scarlet coat. Mine were yet too slender to fill up a gap in the ranks, and my arm too weak to wield any thing more formidable than a drum-stick, but in devotion to the cause I would not have yielded to Don Quixote himself. The pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war had in fact set my soul in an unquenchable blaze, and I could think of nothing else. In reckoning up a column of pounds, shillings, and pence, I counted them but as so many soldiers, the rumbling of empty puncheons in the wine cellar sounded in my ears as the thunder of artillery, and the croaking voice of a weasand old watchman at "half-past twelve o'clock," as the hoarse challenge of the sentry from the ramparts.

My prospect of succeeding to the object on which I had placed my affections were at the time but slender, but having somewhere read that if one did but set his eye on any thing in reason, and pursued it steadily, he would finally attain it, I resolved to adhere to such an animating maxim, and fixing my heart on a captain's commission, I pursued it steadily, and for the encouragement of youth in all times to come, I am proud to record that I finally did attain it.

I returned to the country on the expiration of my apprenticeship, which (considering the object I had in view) happened at a most auspicious moment; for the ensign of our parochial company of local militia had just received a commission in the line, and I was fortunate enough to step into his vacated commission as well as into his clothing and appointments.

I had by that time grown into a tall ramrod of a fellow, as fat as a whipping-post—my predecessor had been a head and shoulders shorter, so that in marching into his trousers I was obliged to put my legs so far through them that it required the eye of a connoisseur to distinguish whether they were not intended as a pair of breeches. The other end of my arms, too, were exposed to equal animadversion, protruding through the coat-sleeves to an extent which would have required a pair of gauntlets of the horse-guards blue to fill up the vacancy. Nevertheless, no peacock ever strutted more proudly in his plumage than I did in mine—and when I found myself on a Sunday in the front seat of the gallery of our parish church, exposed to the admiration of a congregation of milk-maids, my delight was without alloy.

[CHAP. II.]

"No man can tether time or tide,
The hour approaches Tam maun ride."

And he takes one side step and two front ones on the road to glory.

It was a very fine thing, no doubt, to be an ensign in the local militia, and a remarkably pretty thing to be the admiration of all the milk-maids of a parish, but while time was jogging, I found myself standing with nothing but the precarious footing of those pleasures to stand upon, and it therefore behoved me to think of sinking the ornamental for the sake of the useful; and a neighbouring worthy, who was an importer and vender of foreign timber, happening at this time to make a proposition to unite our fortunes, and that I should take the charge of a branch establishment in the city of Glasgow, it was arranged accordingly, and my next position therefore was behind my own desk in that Wapping of Glasgow, called the Gorbals.

Mars, however, was still in the ascendant, for my first transaction in the way of business was to get myself appointed to a lieutenancy in one of the volunteer regiments, and, as far as I remember, I think that all my other transactions while I remained there redounded more to my credit as a soldier than as a citizen, and when, at the end of the year, the offer of an ensigncy in the militia enabled me to ascend a step higher on the ladder of my ambition, leaving my partner to sell or burn his sticks (whichever he might find the most profitable), I cut mine, and joined that finest of all militia regiments, the North York, when I began to hold up my head and to fancy myself something like a soldier in reality.

Our movements during the short period that I remained with them, were confined to casual changes among the different stations on the coasts of Kent and Sussex, where I got gradually initiated into all the mysteries of home service,—learnt to make love to the smugglers' very pretty daughters, and became a dead hand at wrenching the knocker from a door.

The idleness and the mischievous propensities of the officers of that district (of the line as well as the militia) were proverbial at the period I speak of; but, while as usual the report greatly exceeded the reality, there was this to be said in their behalf, that they were almost entirely excluded from respectable society; owing partly, perhaps, to their not being quite so select as at the present time, (those heroes who had a choice of pleasures preferring Almack's to Napoleon's balls,) but chiefly to the numbers of the troops with which those districts were inundated during the war, and which put it out of the power of individual residents to notice such a succession of military interlopers, unless they happened to be especially recommended to them; so that, as the Irishman expresses it—he was a lucky cove indeed who in those days succeeded in getting his legs under a gentleman's mahogany.

It is not therefore much to be wondered at, if a parcel of wild young fellows thrown on their own resources, when that warlike age required a larking spirit to be encouraged rather than repressed amongst them,—I say, it is not to be wondered at if they did occasionally amuse themselves with a class of persons which, under other circumstances, they would have avoided, and if the consequences were sometimes what they had better not have been—but the accounts between the man and woman of that day having been long since closed, it is not for me to re-open them, yet I remember that even that manner of life was not without its charms.

The only variety in my year's militia life was an encampment on the lines at Chatham, where we did duty on board the hulks, in the Medway. My post was for the greater period with a guard on board the old Irresistible, which was laden with about eight hundred heavy Danes who had been found guilty of defending their property against their invaders, and I can answer for it that they were made as miserable as any body of men detected in such a heinous crime had a right to be, for of all diabolical constructions in the shape of prisons the hulks claim by right a pre-eminence. However, we were then acting under the broad acknowledged principle, that those who are not for, are against us, and upon that same principle, the worthy Danes with their ships were respectfully invited to repose themselves for a while within our hospitable harbours.

On the breaking up of our encampment at Chatham we marched to Deal, where one of the periodical volunteerings from the militia, (to fill up the ranks of the line,) took place, and I need not add that I greedily snatched at the opportunity it offered to place myself in the position for which I had so long sighed.

On those occasions any subaltern who could persuade a given number of men to follow him, received a commission in whatever regiment of the line he wished, provided there was a vacancy for himself and followers. I therefore chose that which had long been the object of my secret adoration, as well for its dress as the nature of its services and its achievements, the old ninety-fifth, now the Rifle Brigade.—"Hurrah for the first in the field and the last out of it, the bloody fighting ninety-fifth," was the cry of my followers while beating up for more recruits—and as glory was their object, a fighting and a bloody corps the gallant fellows found it, for out of the many who followed Captain Strode and me to it, there were but two serjeants and myself, after the sixth campaign, alive to tell the tale.

I cannot part from the good old North York without a parting tribute to their remembrance, for as a militia regiment they were not to be surpassed.—Their officers were officers as well as gentlemen, and there were few among them who would not have filled the same rank in the line with credit to themselves and to the service, and several wanted but the opportunity to turn up trumps of the first order.

I no sooner found myself gazetted than I took a run up to London to get rid of my loose cash, which being very speedily accomplished, I joined the regiment at Hythe barracks.

They had just returned from sharing in the glories and disasters of Sir John Moore's retreat, and were busily employed in organizing again for active service. I have never seen a regiment of more gallant bearing than the first battalion there shewed itself, from their brilliant chief, (the late Sir Sidney Beckwith), downwards; they were all that a soldier could love to look on; and, splendid as was their appearance, it was the least admirable part about them, for the beauty of their system of discipline consisted in their doing every thing that was necessary, and nothing that was not, so that every man's duty was a pleasure to him, and the esprit de corps was unrivalled.

There was an abundance of Johny Newcome's, like myself, tumbling in hourly, for it was then such a favourite corps with the militia men, that they received a thousand men over their complement within the first three days of the volunteering, (and before a stop could be put to it,) which compelled the horse-guards to give an additional battalion to the corps.

On my first arrival my whole soul was so absorbed in the interest excited by the service-officers that, for a time, I could attend to nothing else—I could have worshipped the different relics that adorned their barrack-rooms—the pistol or the dagger of some gaunt Spanish robber—a string of beads from the Virgin Mary of some village chapel—or the brazen helmet of some French dragoon, taken from his head after it had parted company with his shoulders, and with what a greedy ear did I swallow the stories of their hair-breadth 'scapes and imminent perils, and long for the time when I should be able to make such relics and such tales mine own. Fate has since been propitious, and enabled me to spin as long a yarn as most folks, but as some of their original stories still dwell with much interest on my memory, I shall quote one or two of them, in the hope that they may not prove less so to my readers, for I am not aware that they have yet been published.

ANECDOTE THE FIRST.

Of all the vicissitudes of the late disastrous campaign, I found that nothing dwelt so interestingly on the remembrance of our officers as their affair at Calcabellos—partly because it was chiefly a regimental fight, and partly because they were taken at a disadvantage, and acquitted themselves becomingly.

The regiment was formed in front of Calcabellos covering the rear of the infantry, and on the first appearance of the enemy they had been ordered to withdraw behind the town. Three parts of them had already passed the bridge, and the remainder were upon it, or in the act of filing through the street with the careless confidence which might be expected from their knowledge that the British cavalry still stood between them and the enemy; but in an instant our own cavalry, without the slightest notice, galloped through and over them, and the same instant saw a French sabre flourishing over the head of every man who remained beyond the bridge—many were cut down in the streets, and a great portion of the rear company were taken prisoners.

The remainder of the regiment, seeing the unexpected attack, quickly drew off among the vineyards to the right and left of the road, where they coolly awaited the approaching assault. The dismounted voltigeurs first swarmed over the river, assailing the riflemen on all sides, but they were met by a galling fire, which effectually stopped them. General Colbert next advanced to dislodge them, and passing the river at the head of his dragoons, he charged furiously up the road; but, when within a few yards of our men, he was received with such a deadly fire, that scarcely a Frenchman remained in the saddle, and the general himself was among the slain. The voltigeurs persevered in their unsuccessful endeavours to force the post, and a furious fight continued to be waged, until darkness put an end to it, both sides having suffered severely.

Although the principal combat had ceased with the day-light, the riflemen found that the troubles and the fatigues of twenty-four hours were yet in their infancy, for they had to remain in the position until ten at night, to give the rest of the army time to fall back, during which they had to sustain several fierce assaults, which the enemy made, with the view of ascertaining whether our army were on the move; but in every attempt they were gallantly repulsed, and remained in ignorance on the subject until day-light next morning. Our people had, in the meantime, been on the move the greater part of the night, and those only who have done a mile or two of vineyard walking in the dark, can form an adequate notion of their twenty-four hours work.

General Colbert (the enemy's hero of the day) was, by all accounts, (if I may be permitted the expression,) splendid as a man, and not less so as a soldier. From the commencement of the retreat of our army he had led the advance, and been conspicuous for his daring: his gallant bearing had, in fact, excited the admiration of his enemies; but on this day, the last of his brilliant earthly career, he was mounted on a white charger, and had been a prominent figure in the attack of our men in the street the instant before, and it is not, therefore, to be wondered at if the admiration for the soldier was for a space drowned in the feeling for the fallen comrades which his bravery had consigned to death; a rifleman, therefore, of the name of Plunket, exclaiming, "thou too shalt surely die!" took up an advanced position, for the purpose of singling him out, and by his hand he no doubt fell.

Plunket was not less daring in his humble capacity than the great man he had just brought to the dust. He was a bold, active, athletic Irishman, and a deadly shot; but the curse of his country was upon him, and I believe he was finally discharged, without receiving such a recompense as his merits in the field would otherwise have secured to him.

ANECDOTE THE SECOND.

In one of the actions in which our regiment was engaged, in covering the retreat to Corunna, a superior body of the enemy burst upon the post of a young officer of the name of Uniacke, compelling him to give way in disorder, and in the short scramble which followed, he very narrowly escaped being caught by the French officer who had led the advance,—a short stout fellow, with a cocked hat, and a pair of huge jack-boots.

Uniacke was one of the most active men in the army, and being speedily joined by his supporting body, which turned the tables upon his adversary, he resolved to give his friend a sweat in return for the one he had got, and started after him, with little doubt, from his appearance and equipment, that he would have him by the neck before he had got many yards further; but, to his no small mortification, the stout gentleman plied his seven-league boots so cleverly that Uniacke was unable to gain an inch upon him.

ANECDOTE THE THIRD.

At Astorga, a ludicrous alarm was occasioned by the frolic of an officer; though it might have led to more serious results.

The regiment was quartered in a convent, and the officers and the friars were promiscuously bundled for the night on mattresses laid in one of the galleries; when, about midnight, Captain —— awaking, and seeing the back of one of the Padres looking him full in the face, from under the bed-clothes, as if inviting the slap of a fist, he, acting on the impulse of the moment, jumped up, and with a hand as broad as a coal-shovel, and quite as hard, made it descend on the bottom of the astounded sleeper with the force of a paviour, and then stole back to his couch. The Padre roared a hundred murders, and murder was roared by a hundred Padres, while the other officers, starting up in astonishment, drew their swords and began grappling with whoever happened to be near them. The uproar, fortunately, brought some of the attendants with lights before any mischief happened, when the cause of the disturbance was traced, to the no small amusement of every one. The offender tried hard to convince the afflicted father that he had been under the influence of a dream; but the four fingers and the thumb remained too legibly written on the offended spot to permit him to swallow it.

ANECDOTE THE FOURTH.

When the straggling and the disorders of the army on the retreat to Corunna became so serious as to demand an example, Sir Edward Paget, who commanded the reserve, caused two of the plunderers to be tried by a court-martial, and they were sentenced to suffer death. The troops were ordered to parade in front of the town, to witness the execution, but, while in the act of assembling, a dragoon came galloping in from the front to inform Sir Edward by desire of his brother (Lord Paget), that the enemy were on the move, and that it was time for the infantry to retire. Sir Edward, however, took no notice of the message. The troops assembled, and the square was formed, when a second dragoon arrived, to say that the enemy were advancing so rapidly that if Sir Edward did not immediately retire, his lordship could not be answerable for the consequences. Sir Edward, with his usual coolness and determination, said he cared not, for he had a duty to perform, and were the enemy firing into the square, that he would persevere with it. Dragoon after dragoon, in rapid succession, galloped in with a repetition of the message; still the preparations went on, and by the time they were completed, (and it wanted but the word of command to launch the culprits into eternity,) the clang of the carabines of the retreating dragoons was heard all around.

In the breast of Sir Edward, it is probable, that the door of mercy never had been closed, and that he had only waited until the last possible moment to make it the more impressive; and impressive truly it must have been; nor is it easy to imagine such a moment; for, independently of the solemn and desolate feeling with which one at all times witnesses the execution of a comrade, let his offence be what it may, they had an additional intensity on this occasion, on the score of their own safety; for, brief as the span seemed to be that was allotted to the culprits, the clang of the carabine, and the whistling ball, told that it was possible to be even still more brief on the parts of many of the spectators.

Sir Edward, however, now addressed the troops, with a degree of coolness which would argue that danger and he had been long familiar. He pointed out the enormity of the offence of which the culprits had been guilty, that they deserved not to be saved, and that though the enemy were now upon them, and might lay half their number dead while witnessing the execution, that only one thing would save them, and that was, "would the troops now present pledge themselves that this should be the last instance of insubordination that would occur in the course of the retreat?" A simultaneous "Yes," burst from the lips of the assembled thousands, and the next instant saw the necessary measures taken to check the advancing foe, while the remainder resumed their retreat, lightened of a load of care, which a few minutes before had been almost intolerable.

The conduct of these regiments, as compared with others, was very exemplary during the retreat, although their duty, in protecting the stragglers of the army till the last possible moment, was of the most harassing kind. They had no means of punishing those to whom they were indebted for their extra trouble, but by depriving them of their ill-gotten gains, so that whenever a fellow came in with a bag of flour under his arm, (which was no uncommon occurrence,) they made it a rule to empty the bag over his head, to make him a marked man. Napier says of them, that "for twelve days these hardy soldiers covered the retreat, during which time they had traversed eighty miles of road in two marches, passed several nights under arms in the snow of the mountains, were seven times engaged with the enemy, and now assembled at the outposts (before Corunna), having fewer men missing from the ranks, including those who had fallen in battle, than any other division in the army."[A]

[A] The foregoing story, I find, has just made its appearance in a volume published by Lieutenant-Colonel Cadell; but as this narrative was publicly noticed, as being in preparation, prior to the publication of his, I have not thought it necessary to expunge it.

I shall now, with the reader's permission, resume the thread of my narrative.

[CHAP. III.]
An old one takes to his heels, leaving a young one in arms.—The dessert does not always follow the last course of—a goose.—Goes to the war, and ends in love.

In those days, the life of a soldier was a stirring and an active one. I had not joined the regiment above a fortnight when the 1st battalion received orders for immediate active service, and General Graham was to make his appearance on the morrow, to inspect them prior to their embarkation. Every man destined for service was to appear in the ranks, and as my turn had not yet come, I was ordered, the previous evening, to commence my career as a rifleman, in charge of the guard; and a most unhappy debut I made of it, and one that argued but little in behalf of my chances of future fame in the profession.

My guard was composed of the Lord knows who, for, excepting on the back of the sergeant, I remember that there was not a rag of uniform amongst them. I was too anxious to forget all about them to think of informing myself afterwards; but, from what I have since seen, I am satisfied that they must either have been a recent importation from "the first gem of the sea," or they had been furnished for the occasion by the governor of Newgate;—however, be that as it may, I had some ten or a dozen prisoners handed over to me; and as my eye was not sufficiently practised to distinguish, in such a group, which was the soldier and which the prisoner, I very discreetly left the whole affair to the sergeant, who seemed to be a man of nous. But while I was dozing on the guard-bed, about midnight, I was startled by a scramble in the soldier's room, and the cry of "guard, turn out;" and, on running out to ascertain the cause, the sergeant told me that the light in the guard-house had been purposely upset by some one, and, suspecting that a trick was intended, he had turned out the guard; and truly his suspicions were well-grounded, although he took an erroneous method of counteracting it; for, the sentry over the door, not being a much shrewder fellow than myself in distinguishing characters in the dark, in suffering the guard to turn out, had allowed some of the prisoners to turn out too, and, amongst the rest, one who had been reserved for an especial example of some sort or other, and whose absence was likely to make a noise in the neighbourhood.

This was certainly information enough to furnish me with food for reflection for the remainder of the night, and, as if to enhance its agreeable nature, the sergeant-major paid me a visit at daylight in the morning, and informed me that such things did sometimes happen;—he enumerated several cases of the kind in different regiments, and left me with the consolatory piece of information that the officer of the guard had on each occasion been allowed to retire without a court-martial!!! My readers, I am sure, will rejoice with me that in this, as in other cases, there is no rule without an exception, for otherwise they would never have had the pleasure of reading a book of mine.

How I had the good fortune to be excepted on that occasion I never found out; probably, in the hurry and bustle of preparation it was overlooked,—or, probably, because they hoped better things of me thereafter,—but my commanding officer never noticed it, and his kindness in so doing put me more on the alert for the future than if he had written a volume of censure.

Among the other novelties of the aforesaid guard-house on that memorable night, I got acquainted with a very worthy goose, whose services in the Rifle Brigade well merit a chapter in its history. If any one imagines that a goose is a goose he is very much mistaken: and I am happy in having the power of undeceiving him, for I am about to show that my (or rather our regimental) goose was shrewd, active, and intelligent, it was a faithful public servant, a social companion, and an attached friend, (I wish that every biped could say but half so much). Its death, or its manner of departure from this world, is still clouded in mystery; but while my book lives, the goose's memory shall not die.

It had attached itself to the guard-house several years prior to my appearance there, and all its doings had been as steady as a sentry-box: its post was with the sentry over the guard; in fine weather it accompanied him in his walk, and in bad, it stood alongside of him in his box. It marched with the officer of the guard in all his visiting rounds, and it was the first on all occasions to give notice of the approach of any one in authority, keeping a particularly sharp look-out for the captain and field-officer of the day, whether by day or night. The guard might sleep, the sentry might sleep, but the goose was ever wide awake. It never considered itself relieved from duty, except during the breakfast and dinner-hours, when it invariably stepped into the guard-house, and partook of the soldiers' cheer, for they were so devotedly attached to it that it was at all times bountifully supplied, and it was not a little amusing, on those occasions, to see how the fellow cackled whenever the soldiers laughed, as if it understood and enjoyed the joke as much as they did.

I did not see Moore's Almanack for 1812, and, therefore, know not whether he predicted that Michaelmas would be fatal to many of the tribe that year; but I never saw a comrade more universally lamented than the poor goose was when the news of its mysterious disappearance reached us in Spain.

Our comrades at home, as a last proof of their affection, very magnanimously offered a reward of ten pounds for the recovery of the body, dead or alive; but whether it filled a respectable position in a banquet of that year, or still lives to bother the decayed tooth of some elderly maiden, at Michaelmas next, remains to be solved.

On the 24th of March, 1809, our first battalion received orders to march at midnight for Dover, there to be united with the 43d and 52d regiments, as a light brigade, under Major-General Robert Crawfurd, and to embark next morning to join the army which was then assembling in the Peninsula.

In marching for embarkation in those stirring times, the feeling of the troops partook more of the nature of a ship's crew about to sail on a roving commission, than a land-crab expedition which was likely to prove eternal; for although one did occasionally see some blubber-headed fellow mourning over his severed affections for a day or two, yet a thorough-going one just gave a kiss to his wife, if he had one, and two to his sweetheart, if he had not, and away he went with a song in his mouth.

I now joined the 2d battalion, where we were not permitted to rest long on our oars, for, within a month, we were called upon to join the expedition with which

"The Great Earl of Chatham, and a hundred thousand men,
Sailed over to Holland, and then sailed back again."

As the military operations of that expedition do not entitle them to a place in such an important history as mine is, I shall pass them over, simply remarking that some of our companies fired a few professional shots, and some of our people got professionally shot, while a great many more visited Death by the doctor's road, and almost all who visited him not, got uncommonly well shaken.

South Beeveland ultimately became our head-quarters. It is a fine island, and very fertile, yielding about forty bushels of frogs an acre, and tadpoles enough to fence it with. We were there under the command of General W. Stewart, whose active mind, continually in search of improvement, led him to try (in imitation of some foreign customs) to saddle the backs of the officers with knapsacks, by way of adding to their comfort; for he proved to demonstration that if an officer had a clean shirt in his knapsack on his back, that he might have it to put on at the end of his day's march; whereas, if he had it not on his own back, it might be left too far back to be of use to him when wanted.

This was a fact not to be disputed, but so wedded were we to ancient prejudices that we remained convinced that the shirt actually in wear, with all its additions at the end of an extra day or two, must still weigh less than the knapsack with a shirt in it; and upon those grounds we made a successful kick, and threw them off, not, however, until an experimental field-day had been ordered to establish them. The order required that each officer should parade in a knapsack, or something answering the same purpose, and it was amusing enough to see the expedients resorted to, to evade, without committing a direct breach of it. I remember that my apology for one on that occasion was slinging an empty black oil-skin haversack knapsack-ways, which looked so much like a newly-lanced blister on my back that it made both the vraws and the frogs stare. The attempt was never repeated.

What a singular change did a short residence in that pestiferous place work in the appearance of our army! It was with our regiment as with others; one month saw us embark a thousand men at Deal, in the highest health and spirits, and the next month saw us land, at the same place, with about seven hundred men, carrying to hospital, or staggering under disease.

I cannot shake off that celebrated Walcheren fever without mentioning what may or may not be a peculiarity in it;—that a brother-officer and I experienced a return of it within a day of each other, after a lapse of five years, and again, within a week, after the lapse of the following three years.

As my heart had embarked for the Peninsula with the 1st battalion, although my body (for the reasons given) remained behind for a year, I shall, with the reader's permission, follow the first, as being in the more interesting position of the two; and although, under these circumstances, I am not permitted to speak in the first person singular until the two shall be again united, yet whatever I do speak of I have heard so often and so well authenticated, that I am enabled to give it with the same confidence as if I had been an eye-witness.

"A LAY OF LOVE FOR LADY BRIGHT."

Lisbon was doubtless as rich in abominations now as it was a year after, without any other redeeming virtue, which is a very ugly commencement to a tale of love; but having landed my reader a second time at the same place, I am anxious to relieve him from the fear of being treated to a second edition of the same story, and to assure him that my head-piece has been some time charged with fresh ammunition and I mean to discharge it now, to prevent its getting rusty. I intend to fight those battles only that I never fought before, galloping over the ground lightly, and merely halting to give a little of my conversation, such as it is, whenever I have anything new to tell; and as I have no idea of enduring the fatigues of the march to Talavera, nor the pleasures of fattening on the dinners of chopped straw which followed it, I shall leave my regiment to its fate until its return to the north of Portugal, and take advantage of the repose it affords to make my editorial bow with all due deference to my fair and lovely readers, to express my joy that I have been once more enabled to put myself in communion with them, and to assure them of my continued unbounded love and admiration, for I feel and have ever felt that the man who gave frailty the name of woman was a blockhead, and must have been smarting under some unsuccessful bit of the tender, for I have met her in the bower and in the battle, and have ever found her alike admirable in both! That old fool Shakspeare, too, having only a man's courage to meet a sprite with! Had he but told Macbeth to dare as woman dared, he would have seen the ghost of Banquo vanish into the witches' kettle in the twinkling of a wheelbarrow; for although I have never seen a woman kick the bucket, I have certainly seen her kick every thing else, and in fact there is nothing in the heroics that I have not seen her do. See her again when she descends into herself, and it is very odd if I have not seen her there too! for no man has ever been so often or so deep in love as I have—my poor heart has been lacerated, torn, and finally scorched until it is withered up like a roasted potato with scarcely the size of a kiss left.

How it was that I did not find myself dangling at a door-post by the end of a silk handkerchief some odd morning is to me astonishing, but here I am, living and loving still as fondly as ever. Prudence at this moment whispers that I have said enough for the present, for if I go on making love so fiercely thus early in the day, I shall be forced to marry the whole sex and bring my book to a premature conclusion, for which posterity would never forgive me. I must therefore for the present take a most reluctant leave, with a promise of renewing my courtship from time to time as opportunities offer, if they will but good-naturedly follow me through the various scenes into which I am about to conduct them; and while I do my best to amuse them by the way, should I unintentionally dive so deeply into the pathetic as to beguile them of a tear, let me recommend them to wipe it away, for it is only their smiles I court.

While on the way to join the light division on the northern frontier, I shall take the opportunity of introducing the reader to their celebrated commander, the late Major-General Robert Crawfurd, an officer who, for a length of time, was better known than liked, but like many a gem of purer ray his value was scarcely known until lost.

[CHAP. IV.]
Shewing how generals may descend upon particulars with a cat-o'-nine tails. Some extra Tales added. Historical, Comical, and Warlike all.

Crawfurd was no common character. He, like a gallant cotemporary of his, was not born to be a great general, but he certainly was a distinguished one,—the history of his division and the position which he held beyond the Coa in 1810, attest the fact. He had neither judgement, temper, nor discretion to fit him for a chief, and as a subordinate he required to be held with a tight rein, but his talents as a general of division were nevertheless of the first order. He received the three British regiments under his command, finished by the hands of a master in the art, Sir John Moore, and, as regiments, they were faultless; but to Crawfurd belonged the chief merit of making them the war brigade which they became, alike the admiration of their friends and foes. How he made them so I am about to show, but how such another is to be made now that his system has fallen into disrepute, will be for futurity to determine.

I think I see a regiment of those writers who are just now taking the cat by the tail, parading for a day's march under that immortal chief—that he furnishes them with an ink-bottle for a canteen, fills their knapsacks with foolscap, their mouths with mouldy biscuit, and starts them off with sloped pens. They go along with the buoyancy of a corps of reporters reconnoitring for a memorandum, and they very quickly catch one and a Tartar to the bargain, for the monotony of the road is relieved by the crossing of a fine broad stream, and over the stream is a very fine plank to preserve the polish of Warren's jet on the feet of the pedestrian—they all jump gaily towards the plank, but they are pulled up by a grim gentleman with a drawn sword, who, with a voice of thunder, desires them to keep their ranks and march through the stream. Well! this is all mighty pleasant, but now that they are up to their middles in the water, there surely can be no harm in stopping half a minute to lave a few handfuls of it into their parched mouths. I think I see the astonishment of their editorial nerves when they find a dozen lashes well bestowed a posteriori upon each, by way of their further refreshment and clearing off scores for that portion of the day's work (for the General was a man who gave no credit on those occasions). He had borrowed a leaf from the history of the land-crabs, and suffered neither mire nor water to disturb the order of his march with impunity.

Now I daresay he would have had to flog an editor a dozen times before he had satisfied him that it was to his advantage; but a soldier is open to conviction, and such was the manner of making one of the finest and most effective divisions that that or any other army ever saw.

Where soldiers are to be ruled, there is more logic in nine tails of a cat than in the mouths of a hundred orators; it requires very little argument to prove, and I'll defy the most eloquent preacher, (with the unknown tongue to boot,) to persuade a regiment to ford a river where there is a bridge to conduct them over dry-shod, or to prevent them drinking when they are in that river if they happen to feel thirsty, let him promise them what he will as a reward for their obedience. It is like preaching to his own flock on the subject of their eternal welfare (and I make the comparison with all due reverence); they would all gladly arrive at the end he aims at, but at the same time how few will take the necessary steps to do so, and how many prefer their momentary present enjoyment? So it was with the soldiers, but with this difference, that Crawfurd's cat forced them to take the right road whether they would or no, and the experiment once made carried conviction with it, that the comfort of every individual in the division materially depended on the rigid exaction of his orders, for he shewed that on every ordinary march he made it a rule to halt for a few minutes every third or fourth mile, (dependent on the vicinity of water,) that every soldier carried a canteen capable of containing two quarts, and that if he only took the trouble to fill it before starting, and again, if necessary, at every halt, it contained more than he would or ought to drink in the interim; and that therefore every pause he made in a river for the purpose of drinking was disorderly, because a man stopping to drink delayed the one behind him proportionately longer, and so on progressively to the rear of the column.

In like manner the filing past dirty or marshy parts of the road in place of marching boldly through them or filing over a plank or narrow bridge in place of taking the river with the full front of their column in march, he proved to demonstration on true mathematical principles, that with the numbers of those obstacles usually encountered on a day's march, it made a difference of several hours in their arrival at their bivouac for the night. That in indulging by the way, they were that much longer labouring under their load of arms, ammunition, and necessaries, besides bringing them to their bivouac in darkness and discomfort; it very likely, too, got them thoroughly drenched with rain, when the sole cause of their delay had been to avoid a partial wetting, which would have been long since dried while seated at ease around their camp-fires; and if this does not redeem Crawfurd and his cat, I give it up.

The general and his divisional code, as already hinted at, was at first much disliked; probably, he enforced it, in the first instance, with unnecessary severity, and it was long before those under him could rid themselves of that feeling of oppression which it had inculcated upon their minds. It is due, however, to the memory of the gallant general to say that punishment for those disorders was rarely necessary after the first campaign; for the system, once established, went on like clock-work, and the soldiers latterly became devotedly attached to him; for while he exacted from them the most rigid obedience, he was, on his own part, keenly alive to every thing they had a right to expect from him in return, and woe befel the commissary who failed to give a satisfactory reason for any deficiencies in his issues. It is stated that one of them went to the commander-in-chief to complain that he had been unable to procure bread for the light division, and that General Crawfurd had threatened that if they were not supplied within a given time, he would put him in the guard-house. "Did he?" said his lordship; "then I would recommend you to find the bread, for if he said so, by ——, he'll do it!"

Having in this chapter flogged every man who had any shadow of claim to such a distinction, I shall now proceed and place myself along with my regiment to see that they prove themselves worthy of the pains taken in their instruction.

From the position which the light division then held, their commander must have been fully satisfied in his own mind that their military education had not been neglected, for certes it required every man to be furnished with a clear head, a bold heart, and a clean pair of heels—all three being liable to be put in requisition at any hour by day or night. It was no place for reefing topsails and making all snug, but one which required the crew to be constantly at quarters; for, unlike their nautical brethren, the nearer a soldier's shoulders are to the rocks the less liable he is to be wrecked—and there they had more than enough of play in occupying a front of twenty-five miles with that small division and some cavalry. The chief of the 1st German hussars meeting our commandant one morning, "Well, Colonel," says the gallant German in broken English, "how you do?" "O, tolerably well, thank you, considering that I am obliged to sleep with one eye open." "By Gott," says the other, "I never sleeps at all."

Colonel Beckwith at this time held the pass of Barba del Puerco with four companies of the Rifles, and very soon experienced the advantage of having an eye alive, for he had some active neighbours on the opposite side of the river who had determined to beat up his quarters by way of ascertaining the fact.

The Padrè of the village, it appeared, was a sort of vicar of Bray, who gave information to both sides so long as accounts remained pretty equally balanced between them, but when the advance of the French army for the subjugation of Portugal became a matter of certainty, he immediately chose that which seemed to be the strongest, and it was not ours.

The Padrè was a famous hand over a glass of grog, and where amusements were so scarce, it was good fun for our youngsters to make a Padrè glorious, which they took every opportunity of doing; and as is not unusual with persons in that state, (laymen as well as Padrès,) he invariably fancied himself the only sober man of the party, so that the report was conscientiously given when he went over to the French General Ferey, who commanded the division opposite, and staked his reputation as a Padrè, that the English officers in his village were in the habit of getting blind drunk every night, and that he had only to march over at midnight to secure them almost without resistance.

Ferey was a bold enterprising soldier, (I saw his body in death after the battle of Salamanca); he knew to a man the force of the English in the village, and probably did not look upon the attempt as very desperate were they even at their posts ready to receive him; but as the chances seemed to be in favour of every enemy's head being "nailed to his pillow," the opportunity was not to be resisted, and accordingly, at midnight on the 19th of March, he assembled his force silently at the end of the bridge. The shadows of the rocks which the rising moon had just cast over the place prevented their being seen, and the continuous roar of the mountain torrent, which divided them, prevented their being heard even by our double sentry posted at the other end of the bridge within a few yards of them. Leaving a powerful support to cover his retreat in the event of a reverse, Ferey at the head of six hundred chosen grenadiers burst forth so silently and suddenly, that, of our double sentry on the bridge, the one was taken and the other bayonetted without being able to fire off their pieces. A sergeant's party higher up among the rocks had just time to fire off as an alarm, and even the remainder of the company on picquet under O'Hare had barely time to jump up and snatch their rifles when the enemy were among them. O'Hare's men, however, though borne back and unable to stop them for an instant, behaved nobly, retiring in a continued hand-to-hand personal encounter with their foes to the top of the pass, when the remaining companies under Sidney Beckwith having just started from their sleep, rushed forward to their support, and with a thundering discharge, tumbled the attacking column into the ravine below, where, passing the bridge under cover of the fire of their supporting body, they resumed their former position, minus a considerable number of their best and bravest. The colonel, while urging the fight, observed a Frenchman within a yard or two, taking deliberate aim at his head. Stooping suddenly down and picking up a stone, he immediately shyed it at him, calling him at the same time a "scoundrel, to get out of that." It so far distracted the fellow's attention that while the gallant Beckwith's cap was blown to atoms, the head remained untouched.

The whole concern was but the affair of a few minutes, but we nevertheless looked upon it as no inconsiderable addition to our regimental feather, for the appointed alarm post of one of the companies had carried it to a place where it happened that they were not wanted, so that there were but three companies actually engaged; and therefore with something less than half their numbers they had beaten off six hundred of the élite of the French army. But our chief pride arose from its being the first and last night-attempt which the enemy ever made to surprise a British post in that army.

Of the worthy pastor I never heard more—I know not whether the bold Ferey paid the price of the information he had brought, in gold, or with an ounce of lead; but certain it is that his flock were without ghostly consolation during the remainder of our sojourn—not that it was much sought after at that particular time, for the village damsels had already begun running up a score of peccadillos, and it was of little use attempting to wipe it out until the final departure of their heretical visitors.

Among the wounded who were left on the field by the enemy, there was a French sergeant whom I have often heard our officers speak of with much admiration—he was a fine handsome young fellow, alike romantic in his bravery, and in devotion to his emperor and his country—he had come on with the determination to conquer or to die, and having failed in the first, he seemed resolved not to be balked in the other, which a ball through a bad part of the thigh had placed him in the high road for, and he, therefore, resisted every attempt to save him, with the utmost indignation, claiming it as a matter of right to be allowed to die on the field where he had fallen. Our good, honest, rough diamonds, however, who were employed in collecting the wounded, were equally determined that the point in dispute should only be settled between him and the doctor in the proper place, and accordingly they shouldered him off to the hospital whether he would or no. But even there he continued as untameable as a hyena—his limb was in such a state that nothing but amputation could save his life—yet nothing would induce him to consent to it—he had courage to endure any thing, but nothing could reconcile him to receive any thing but blows from his enemies. I forget how, or in what way, the amputation of the limb was at length accomplished. To the best of my recollection death had already laid a hand upon him, and it was done while he was in a state of insensibility. But be that as it may, it was done, and the danger and the fit of heroics having travelled with the departed limb, he lived to thank his preservers for the brotherly kindness he had experienced at their hands, and took a grateful and affectionate farewell of them when his health was sufficiently restored to permit his being removed to the care of his countrymen.

Shortly after this affair at Barba del Puerco the French army under Massena came down upon Ciudad Rodrigo, preparatory to the invasion of Portugal, and obliged the light division to take up a more concentrated position.

It is not my intention to take notice of the movements of the army further than is necessary to illustrate the anecdotes I relate; but I cannot, on this occasion, resist borrowing a leaf out of Napier's admirable work, to shew the remarkable state of discipline which those troops had been brought to—for while I have no small portion of personal vanity to gratify in recording the fact of my having been for many years after an associate in all the enterprises of that gallant band, I consider it more particularly a duty which every military writer owes to posterity, (be his pretensions great or humble,) to shew what may be effected in that profession by diligence and perseverance.

The light division, and the cavalry attached to it, was at this period so far in advance of every other part of the army that their safety depended on themselves alone, for they were altogether beyond the reach of human aid—their force consisted of about four thousand infantry, twelve hundred cavalry, and a brigade of horse artillery—and yet with this small force did Crawfurd, trusting to his own admirable arrangements, and the surprising discipline of his troops, maintain a position which was no position, for three months, within an hour's march of six thousand horsemen, and two hours' march from sixty thousand infantry, of a brave, experienced, and enterprising enemy, who was advancing in the confidence of certain victory.

Napier says, "His situation demanded a quickness and intelligence in the troops, the like of which has seldom been known. Seven minutes sufficed for the division to get under arms in the middle of the night, and a quarter of an hour, night or day, to bring it in order of battle to the alarm posts, with the baggage loaded and assembled at a convenient distance in the rear. And this not upon a concerted signal, or as a trial, but at all times, and certain!"

"In peace love tunes the shepherd's reed;
In war he mounts the warrior's steed."

And thus, in humble imitation of her master-man, did Mother Coleman, one fine morning, mount her donkey, and join her French lover to war against her lord.

While the troops of the light division, as already noticed, were strutting about with the consciousness of surpassing excellence, menacing and insulting a foe for which their persons' knapsacks and all would barely have sufficed for a luncheon—a dish of mortification was served up for those of our corps, by the hands of their better half, which was not easy of digestion. To speak of the wife of a regiment is so very unusual as to imply that she must have been some very great personage—and without depriving her of the advantage of such a magnificent idea, I shall only say that she was the only wife they had got—for they landed at Lisbon with eleven hundred men and only one woman.

By what particular virtues she had attained such a dignified position among them, I never clearly made out, further than that she had arrived at years of discretion, was what is commonly called a useful woman, and had seen some service. She was the wife of a sturdy German, who plyed in the art of shoemaking, whenever his duties in the field permitted him to resort to that species of amusement, so that it appeared that she had beauty enough to captivate a cobbler, she had money enough to command the services of a jackass, and finally she proved she had wit enough to sell us all, which she did the first favourable opportunity—for, after plying for some months at the tail of her donkey at the tail of the regiment, and fishing in all the loose dollars which were floating about in gentlemen's pockets, (by those winning ways which ladies know so well how to use when such favourable opportunities offer,) she finally bolted off to the enemy, bag and baggage, carrying away old Coleman's all and awl.

It was one of those French leave-takings which man is heir to, but we eventually got over it, under the deepest obligation all the time for the sympathy manifested by our friends of the 43d and 52d.

The movements of the enemy were at length unshackled by the fall of Ciudad Rodrigo, after a desperate defence, which gave immortal glory to its old governor Herrasti, and his brave Spanish garrison—and although it may appear that I am saying one word in honour of the Spaniards for the purpose of giving two to the British, yet my feelings are too national to permit me to pass over a fact which redounds so much to the glory of our military history—namely, that in this, the year 1810, the French were six weeks in wresting from the Spaniards the same fortress which we, in the year 1812, carried, with fire and sword, out of the hands of the French in eleven days!

Now that the enemy's movements were unshackled, the cloud, which for months had been gathering over Portugal, began to burst—and, sharp as Crawfurd and his division looked before, it now behoved them to look somewhat sharper. Had he acted in conformity with his instructions, he had long ere this been behind the Coa, but deeply enamoured of his separate command as ever youth was of his mistress, he seemed resolved that nothing but force should part them; and having gradually given ground, as necessity compelled, the 23d of July found him with his back on the river, and his left resting on the fortress of Almeida, determined to abide a battle, with about five thousand men of all arms to oppose the whole French army.

I shall leave to abler pens the description of the action that followed, and which (as might have been foreseen, while it was highly honourable to the officers and troops engaged) ended in their being driven across the Coa with a severe loss. My business is with a youth who had the day before joined the division. The history of his next day's adventure has beguiled me of many a hearty laugh, and although I despair of being able to communicate it to my readers with any thing like the humour with which I received it from an amiable and gallant friend, yet I cannot resist giving it such as it rests on my remembrance.

Mr. Rogers, as already stated, had, the day before, arrived from England, as an officer of one of the civil departments attached to the light division, and as might be expected on finding himself all at once up with the outposts of the army, he was full of curiosity and excitement. Equipped in a huge cocked hat, and a hermaphrodite sort of scarlet coat, half military and half civil, he was dancing about with his budget of inquiries, when chance threw him in the way of the gallant and lamented Jock Mac Culloch, at the time a lieutenant in the Rifles, and who was in the act of marching off a company to relieve one of the picquets for the night.

Mac Culloch, full of humour, seeing the curiosity of the fresh arrival, said, "Come, Rogers, my boy, come along with me, you shall share my beefsteak, you shall share my boat-cloak, and it will go hard with me but you shall see a Frenchman, too, before we part in the morning."

The invitation was not to be resisted, and away went Rogers on the spur of the moment.

The night turned out a regular Tam o'Shanter's night, or, if the reader pleases, a Wellington night, for it is a singular fact that almost every one of his battles was preceded by such a night;—the thunder rolled, the lightning flashed, and all the fire-engines in the world seemed playing upon the lightning, and the devoted heads of those exposed to it. It was a sort of night that was well calculated to be a damper to a bolder spirit than the one whose story I am relating; but he, nevertheless, sheltered himself as he best could, under the veteran's cloak, and put as good a face upon it as circumstances would permit.

As usual, an hour before day-break, Mac Culloch, resigning the boat-cloak to his dosing companion, stood to his arms, to be ready for whatever changes daylight might have in store for him: nor had he to wait long, for day had just begun to dawn when the sharp crack from the rifle of one of the advanced sentries announced the approach of the enemy, and he had just time to counsel his terrified bedfellow to make the best of his way back to the division, while he himself awaited to do battle. Nor had he much time for preparation, for, as Napier says, "Ney, seeing Crawfurd's false dispositions, came down upon them with the stoop of an eagle. Four thousand horsemen, and a powerful artillery, swept the plain, and Loison's division coming up at a charging pace, made towards the centre and left of the position." Mac Culloch, almost instantly, received several bad sabre wounds, and, with five-and-twenty of his men, was taken prisoner.

Rogers, it may be believed, lost no time in following the salutary counsel he had received with as clever a pair of heels as he could muster. The enemy's artillery had by this time opened, and, as the devil would have it, the cannon-balls were travelling the same road, and tearing up the ground on each side of him almost as regularly as if it had been a ploughing match. Poor Rogers was thus placed in a situation which fully justified him in thinking, as most young soldiers do, that every ball was aimed at himself. He was half distracted; it was certain death to stop where he was, neither flank offered him the smallest shelter, and he had not wind enough left in his bellows to clear the tenth part of the space between him and comparative safety; but, where life is at stake, the imagination is fertile, and it immediately occurred to him that by dowsing the cocked hat he would make himself a less conspicuous object; clapping it, accordingly under his arm, he continued his frightful career, with the feelings of a maniac and the politeness of a courtier, for to every missile that passed he bowed as low as his racing attitude would permit, in ignorance that the danger had passed along with it, performing, to all appearance, a continued rotatory sort of evolution, as if the sails of a windmill had parted from the building, and continued their course across the plain, to the utter astonishment of all who saw him. At length, when exhausted nature could not have carried him twenty yards further, he found himself among some skirmishers of the 3d Caçadores, and within a few yards of a rocky ridge, rising out of the ground, the rear of which seemed to offer him the long-hoped-for opportunity of recovering his wind, and he sheltered himself accordingly.

This happened to be the first occasion in which the Caçadores had been under fire; they had the highest respect for the bravery of their British officers, and had willingly followed where their colonel had led; but having followed him into the field, they did not see why they should not follow another out of it, and when they saw a red coat take post behind a rock, they all immediately rushed to take advantage of the same cover. Poor Rogers had not, therefore, drawn his first breath when he found himself surrounded by these Portuguese warriors, nor had he drawn a second before their colonel (Sir George Elder) rode furiously at him with his drawn sword, exclaiming "who are you, you scoundrel, in the uniform of a British officer, setting an example of cowardice to my men? get out of that instantly, or I'll cut you down!"

Rogers's case was desperate—he had no breath left to explain that he had no pretensions to the honour of being an officer, for he would have been cut down in the act of attempting it: he was, therefore, once more forced to start for another heat with the round shot, and, like a hunted devil, got across the bridge, he knew not how; but he was helm up for England the same day, and the army never saw him more.

General Crawfurd's conduct in the affair alluded to, would argue that his usual soldier-like wits had gone a wool-gathering for the time being—he had, in fact, like a moth, been fluttering so long with impunity around a consuming power that he had at length lost all sense of the danger. But even then it is impossible to conceive upon what principle he took up the position he did—for, in the first place, it was in direct defiance of Lord Wellington's orders; and had the river behind him been flowing with milk and honey, or had the rugged bank on which he was posted been built of loaves and fishes, it would scarcely have justified him in running the risk he did to preserve the sweets; but as the one was flooded with muddy water, and the other only bearing a crop of common stones, and when we consider, too, that the simple passing of the river would have made a hundred of his troops equal to a thousand of the invaders, we must continue lost in wonder.

It is difficult to imagine, however, that he ever contemplated the possibility of stopping the French army but for the moment. Confiding, probably, in the superiority of his troops, he had calculated on successfully repelling their first attack, and that having thus taught them the respect that was due to him, he might then have made a triumphant retreat to the opposite bank, where, for a time, he could safely have offered them further defiance.

If such was his object, (and it is the only plausible one I can find,) he had altogether overlooked that for a man with one pair of arms to grapple with another who had ten, it must rest with the ten-pair man to say when the play is over, for although the one-pair man may disable an equal number in his front, there are still nine pair left to poke him in the sides and all round about; and thus the general found it; for having once exposed himself to such overwhelming numbers, there was no getting out of it but at a large sacrifice—and but for the experience, the confidence, and the devotion of the different individual battalion officers, seconded by the gallantry of the soldiers, the division had been utterly annihilated. Napier, as an eye-witness, states, (what I have often heard repeated by other officers who were there,) that "there was no room to array the line, no time for any thing but battle, every captain carried off his company as an independent body, and joining as he could with the ninety-fifth or fifty-second, the whole presented a mass of skirmishers acting in small parties, and under no regular command, yet each confident in the courage and discipline of those on his right and left, and all regulating their movements by a common discretion, and keeping together with surprising vigour."

The result of the action was a loss on the British portion of the division of two hundred and seventy-two, including twenty-eight officers, killed, wounded, and taken.

It is curious to observe by what singular interpositions of Providence the lives of individuals are spared. One of our officers happening to have a pocket-volume of Gil Blas, was in the middle of one of his interesting stories when the action commenced. Not choosing to throw it away, he thrust it into the breast of his jacket for want of a better place, and in the course of the day it received a musket-ball which had been meant for a more tender subject. The volume was afterwards, of course, treated as a tried friend.

Having, in one of the foregoing pages, introduced the name of Mac Culloch in a prominent part of the action, I must be forgiven for taking this opportunity of following him to the end of his highly honourable earthly career.

John Mac Culloch was from Scotland, (a native, I believe, of Kirkudbright;) he was young, handsome, athletic, and active; with the meekness of a lamb, he had the heart of a lion, and was the delight of every one. At the time I first became acquainted with him he had been several years in the regiment, and had shared in all the vicissitudes of the restless life they then led. I brought him under the notice of the reader in marching off to relieve the advanced picquet on the night prior to the action of the Coa.

For the information of those who are unacquainted with military matters, I may as well mention that the command of an outline picquet is never an enviable one—it is a situation at all times dangerous and open to disgrace, but seldom to honour—for come what may, in the event of an attack spiritedly made, the picquet is almost sure to go to the wall. From the manner in which the French approached on the occasion referred to, it may readily be imagined that my gallant friend had but little chance of escape—it was, therefore, only left to him to do his duty as an officer under the circumstances in which he was placed. He gave the alarm, and he gave his visitors as warm a reception as his fifty rifles could provide for them, while he gallantly endeavoured to fight his way back to his battalion, but the attempt was hopeless; the cavalry alone of the enemy ought to have been more than enough to sweep the whole of the division off the face of the earth—and Mac Culloch's small party had no chance; they were galloped into, and he, himself, after being lanced and sabred in many places, was obliged to surrender.

Mac Culloch refused to give his parole, in the hope of being able to effect his escape before he reached the French frontier; he was, therefore, marched along with the men a close prisoner as far as Valladolid, where fortune, which ever favours the brave, did not fail him. The escort had found it necessary to halt there for some days, and Mac Culloch having gained the goodwill of his conductor, was placed in a private house under proper security, as they thought; but in this said house there happened to be a young lady, and of what avail are walls of brass, bolts, bars, or iron doors, when a lady is concerned? She quickly put herself in communion with the handsome prisoner—made herself acquainted with his history, name, and country, and as quickly communicated it, as well as her plans for his escape, to a very worthy countryman of his, at that time a professor in one of the universities there. Need I say more than that before many hours had passed over his head, he found himself equipped in the costume of a Spanish peasant, the necessary quantity of dollars in his pocket, and a kiss on each cheek burning hot from the lips of his preserver, on the high road to rejoin his battalion, where he arrived in due course of time, to the great joy of every body—Lord Wellington himself was not the least delighted of the party, and kindly invited him to dine with him that day, in the costume in which he had arrived.

Mac Culloch continued to serve with us until Massena's retreat from Portugal, when, in a skirmish which took place on the evening of the 15th of March, 1811, I, myself, got a crack on the head which laid me under a tree, with my understanding considerably bothered for the night, and I was sorry to find, as my next neighbour, poor Mac Culloch, with an excruciatingly painful and bad wound in the shoulder joint, which deprived him of the use of one arm for life, and obliged him to return to England for the recovery of health.

In the meantime, by the regular course of promotion, he received his company, which transferred him to the 2d battalion, and, serving with it at the battle of Waterloo, he lost his sound arm by one of the last shots that was fired in that bloody field.

As soon as he had recovered from this last wound he rejoined us in Paris, and, presenting himself before the Duke of Wellington in his usual straightforward manly way, said, "Here I am, my Lord; I have no longer an arm left to wield for my country, but I still wish to be allowed to serve it as I best can!" The Duke duly appreciated the diamond before him, and as there were several captains in the regiment senior to Mac Culloch, his Grace, with due regard to their feelings, desired the commanding officer to ascertain whether they would not consider it a cause of complaint if Mac Culloch were recommended for a brevet majority, as it was out of his power to do it for every one, and, to the honour of all concerned, there was not a dissentient voice. He, therefore, succeeded to the brevet, and was afterwards promoted to a majority, I think, in a veteran battalion.

He was soon after on a visit in London, living at a hotel, when one afternoon he was taken suddenly ill; the feeling to him was an unusual one, and he immediately sent for a physician, and told him that he cared not for the consequences, but insisted on having his candid opinion on his case.

The medical man accordingly told him at once that his case was an extraordinary one—that he might within an hour or two recover from it, or within an hour or two he might be no more.

Mac Culloch, with his usual coolness, gave a few directions as to the future, and calmly awaited the result, which terminated fatally within the time predicted—and thus perished, in the prime of life, the gallant Mac Culloch, who was alike an honour to his country and his profession.

[CHAP. V.]
The paying of a French compliment, which will be repaid in a future chapter. A fierce attack upon hairs. A niece compliment, and lessons gratis to untaught sword-bearers.

After the action of the Coa the enemy quickly possessed themselves of the fortress of Almeida, when there remained nothing between Massena and his kingdom but the simple article of Lord Wellington's army, of which he calculated he would be able to superintend the embarkation within the time requisite for his infantry to march to Lisbon. He therefore put his legions in motion to pay his distinguished adversary that last mark of respect.

The Wellingtonians retired slowly before them shewing their teeth as often as favourable opportunities offered, and several bitter bites they gave before they turned at bay—first on the heights of Busaco, and finally and effectually on those of Torres Vedras.

The troops of all arms composing the rear guard conducted themselves admirably throughout the whole of that retreat, for although the enemy did not press them so much as they might have done, yet they were at all times in close contact, and many times in actual combat, and it was impossible to say which was the most distinguished—the splendid service of the horse artillery, the dashing conduct of the dragoons, or the unconquerable steadiness and bravery of the infantry.

It was a sort of military academy which is not open for instruction every day in the year, nor was it one which every fond mamma would choose to send her darling boy to, calculated although it was to lead to immortal honours. A youngster (if he did not stop a bullet by the way) might commence his studies in such a place with nothing but "the soft down peeping through the white skin," and be entitled to the respect due to a beard or a bald head before he saw the end of it.

It is curious to remark how fashions change and how the change affects the valour of the man too. The dragoon since the close of the war has worn all his hair below the head and none on the top it, and how fiercely he fought in defence of his whiskers the other day when some of the regiments were ordered to be shaved, as if the debility of Samson was likely to be the result of the operation. My stars! but I should be glad to know what the old royal heavies or fourteenth and sixteenth lights cared about hairs at the period I speak of, when with their bare faces they went boldly in and bearded muzzles that seemed fenced with furze bushes; and while it was "damned be he who first cries hold—enough!" they did hold enough too, sometimes bringing in every man his bird, mustachoes and all. In those days they seemed to put more faith in their good right hand than in a cart-load of whiskers, for with it and their open English countenances they carved for themselves a name as British dragoons, which they were too proud to barter for any other.

Every attempt at rearing a moustache among the British in those days was treated with sovereign contempt, no matter how aristocratic the soil on which it was sown. But, to do justice to every body, I must say that, to the best of my recollection, a crop was seldom seen but on the lips of nobodies.

It was in the course of this retreat, as I mentioned in a former work, that I first joined Lord Wellington's army, and I remember being remarkably struck with the order, the confidence, and the daring spirit which seemed to animate all ranks of those among whom it was my good fortune to be cast. Their confidence in their illustrious chief was unbounded, and they seemed to feel satisfied that it only rested with him any day to say to his opponent, "thus far shalt thou come but no farther;" and if a doubt on the subject had rested with any one before, the battle of Busaco removed it, for the Portuguese troops having succeeded in beating their man, it confirmed them in their own good opinion, and gave increased confidence to the whole allied army.

I am now treading on the heels of my former narrative, and although it did not include the field of Busaco, yet, as I have already stated, it is foreign to my present purpose to enter into any details of the actions in which we were engaged, further than they may serve to illustrate such anecdotes as appear to me to be likely to amuse the reader. I shall therefore pass over the present one, merely remarking that to a military man, one of the most interesting spectacles which took place there, was the light division taking up their ground the day before in the face of the enemy. They had remained too long in their advanced position on the morning of the 25th of September while the enemy's masses were gathering around them; but Lord Wellington fortunately came up before they were too far committed and put them in immediate retreat under his own personal direction. Nor, as Napier says, "Was there a moment to lose, for the enemy with incredible rapidity brought up both infantry and guns, and fell on so briskly that all the skill of the general and the readiness of the excellent troops composing the rear guard, could scarcely prevent the division from being dangerously engaged. Howbeit, a series of rapid and beautiful movements, a sharp cannonade, and an hour's march, brought every thing back in good order to the great position."

On the day of the battle (the 27th) the French General Simon, who led the attack upon our division, was wounded and taken prisoner, and as they were bringing him in he raved furiously for General Crawfurd, daring him to single combat, but as he was already a prisoner there would have been but little wit in indulging him in his humour.

In the course of the afternoon his baggage was brought in under a flag of truce, accompanied by a charm to soothe the savage breast, in the shape of a very beautiful little Spanish girl, who I have no doubt succeeded in tranquillizing his pugnacious disposition. I know not what rank she held on his establishment, but conclude that she was his niece, for I have observed that in Spain the prettiest girl in every gentleman's house is the niece. The Padrès particularly are the luckiest fellows in the world in having the handsomest brothers and sisters of any men living,—not that I have seen the brother or the sister of any one of them, but then I have seen nine hundred and ninety-nine Padrès, and each had his niece at the head of his establishment, and I know not how it happened but she was always the prettiest girl in the parish.

It was generally the fate of troops arriving from England, to join the army at an unhappy period—at a time when easy stages and refreshment after the voyage was particularly wanted and never to be had. The marches at this period were harassing and severe, and the company with which I had just arrived were much distressed to keep pace with the old campaigners—they made a tolerable scramble for a day or two, but by the time they arrived at the lines the greater part had been obliged to be mounted. Nevertheless, when it became Massena's turn to tramp out of Portugal a few months after, we found them up to their work and with as few stragglers as the best. Marching is an art to be acquired only by habit, and one in which the strength or agility of the animal, man, has but little to do. I have seen Irishmen (and all sorts of countrymen) in their own country, taken from the plough-tail—huge, athletic, active fellows, who would think nothing of doing forty or fifty miles in the course of the day as countrymen—see these men placed in the rank as recruits with knapsacks on their backs and a musket over their shoulders, and in the first march they are dead beat before they get ten miles.

I have heard many disputes on the comparative campaigning powers of tall and short men, but as far as my own experience goes I have never seen any difference. If a tall man happens to break down it is immediately noticed to the disadvantage of his class, but if the same misfortune befals a short one, it is not looked upon as being anything remarkable. The effective powers of both in fact depend upon the nature of the building.

The most difficult and at the same time the most important duty to teach a young soldier on first coming into active service, is how to take care of himself. It is one which, in the first instance, requires the unwearied attention of the officer, but he is amply repaid in the long run, for when the principle is once instilled into him, it is duly appreciated, and he requires no further trouble. In our battalion, during the latter years of the war, it was a mere matter of form inspecting the men on parade, for they knew too well the advantages of having their arms and ammunition at all times in proper order to neglect them, so that after several weeks marching and fighting, I have never seen them on their first ordinary parade after their arrival in quarters, but they were fit for the most rigid examination of the greatest Martinet that ever looked through the ranks. The only thing that required the officers' attention was their necessaries, for as money was scarce, they were liable to be bartered for strong waters.

On service as every where else, there is a time for all things, but the time there being limited and very uncertain, the difficulty is to learn how to make the most of it.

The first and most important part lies with the officer, and he cannot do better than borrow a leaf out of General Crawfurd's book, to learn how to prevent straggling, and to get his men to the end of their day's work with the least possible delay.

The young soldier when he first arrives in camp or bivouac will (unless forced to do otherwise) always give in to the languor and fatigue which oppresses him, and fall asleep. He awakens most probably after dark, cold and comfortless. He would gladly eat some of the undressed meat in his haversack, but he has no fire on which to cook it. He would gladly shelter himself in one of the numerous huts which have arisen around him since he fell asleep, but as he lent no hand in the building he is thrust out. He attempts at the eleventh hour to do as others have done, but the time has gone by, for all the materials that were originally within reach, have already been appropriated by his more active neighbours, and there is nothing left for him but to pass the remainder of the night as he best can, in hunger, in cold, and in discomfort, and he marches before day-light in the morning without having enjoyed either rest or refreshment. Such is often the fate of young regiments for a longer period than would be believed, filling the hospitals and leading to all manner of evils.

On the other hand, see the old soldiers come to their ground. Let their feelings of fatigue be great or small, they are no sooner suffered to leave the ranks than every man rushes to secure whatever the neighbourhood affords as likely to contribute towards his comfort for the night. Swords, hatchets, and bill-kooks are to be seen hewing and hacking at every tree and bush within reach,—huts are quickly reared, fires are quickly blazing, and while the camp kettle is boiling, or the pound of beef frying, the tired, but happy souls, are found toasting their toes around the cheerful blaze, recounting their various adventures until the fire has done the needful, when they fall on like men, taking especial care however that whatever their inclinations may be, they consume no part of the provision which properly belongs to the morrow. The meal finished, they arrange their accoutrements in readiness for any emergency, (caring little for the worst that can befal them for the next twenty-four hours,) when they dispose themselves for rest, and be their allowance of sleep long or short they enjoy it, for it does one's heart good to see "the rapture of repose that's there."

In actual battle, young soldiers are apt to have a feeling, (from which many old ones are not exempt,) namely, that they are but insignificant characters—only a humble individual out of many thousands, and that his conduct, be it good or bad, can have little influence over the fate of the day. This is a monstrous mistake, which it ought to be the duty of every military writer to endeavour to correct; for in battle, as elsewhere, no man is insignificant unless he chooses to make himself so. The greater part of the victories on record, I believe, may be traced to the individual gallantry of a very small portion of the troops engaged; and if it were possible to take a microscopic view of that small portion, there is reason to think that the whole of the glory might be found to rest with a very few individuals.

Military men in battle may be classed under three disproportionate heads,—a very small class who consider themselves insignificant—a very large class who content themselves with doing their duty, without going beyond it—and a tolerably large class who do their best, many of which are great men without knowing it. One example in the history of a private soldier will establish all that I have advanced on the subject.

In one of the first smart actions that I ever was in, I was a young officer in command of experienced soldiers, and, therefore, found myself compelled to be an observer rather than an active leader in the scene. We were engaged in a very hot skirmish, and had driven the enemy's light troops for a considerable distance with great rapidity, when we were at length stopped by some of their regiments in line, which opened such a terrific fire within a few yards that it obliged every one to shelter himself as he best could among the inequalities of the ground and the sprinkling of trees which the place afforded. We remained inactive for about ten minutes amidst a shower of balls that seemed to be almost like a hail-storm, and when at the very worst, when it appeared to me to be certain death to quit the cover, a young scampish fellow of the name of Priestly, at the adjoining tree, started out from behind it, saying, "Well! I'll be d——d if I'll be bothered any longer behind a tree, so here's at you," and with that he banged off his rifle in the face of his foes, reloading very deliberately, while every one right and left followed his example, and the enemy, panic struck, took to their heels without firing another shot. The action requires no comment, the individual did not seem to be aware that he had any merit in what he did, but it is nevertheless a valuable example for those who are disposed to study causes and effects in the art of war.

In that same action I saw an amusing instance of the ruling passion for sport predominating over a soldier; a rifleman near me was in the act of taking aim at a Frenchman when a hare crossed between them, the muzzle of the rifle mechanically followed the hare in preference, and, as she was doubling into our lines, I had just time to strike up the piece with my sword before he drew the trigger, or he most probably would have shot one of our own people, for he was so intent upon his game that he had lost sight of every thing else.

[CHAP. VI.]
Reaping a Horse with a Halter. Reaping golden Opinions out of a Dung-Hill, and reaping a good Story or two out of the next Room. A Dog-Hunt and Sheep's Heads prepared at the Expense of a Dollar each, and a Scotchman's Nose.

I have taken so many flights from our line of retreat in search of the fanciful, that I can only bring my readers back to our actual position, by repeating the oft told tale that our army pulled up in the lines of Torres Vedras to await Massena's further pleasure; for, whether he was to persevere in his intended compliment of seeing us on board ship, or we were to return it by seeing him out of Portugal again, was still somewhat doubtful; and, until the point should be decided, we made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and that was pretty well.

Every young officer on entering a new stage in his profession, let him fancy himself ever so acute, is sure to become for a time the butt of the old hands. I was the latest arrival at the time I speak of, and of course shared the fate of others, but as the only hoax that I believe they ever tried upon me, turned out a profitable one, I had less cause for soreness than falls to the lot of green-horns in general. It consisted in an officer, famous for his waggery, coming up to me one morning and mentioning that he had just been taking a ride over a part of the mountain, (which he pointed out,) where he had seen a wild horse grazing, and that he had tried hard to catch him, but lamented that he had been unable to succeed, for that he was a very handsome one!

As the country abounded in wolves and other wild characters I did not see why there should not also be wild horses, and, therefore, greedily swallowed the bait, for I happened not only to be in especial want of a horse, but of dollars to buy one, and arming myself accordingly with a halter and the assistance of an active rifleman, I proceeded to the place, and very quickly converted the wild horse into a tame one! It was not until a year after that I discovered the hoax by which I had unwittingly become the stealer of some unfortunate man's horse; but, in the mean time, it was to the no small mortification of my waggish friend, that he saw me mounted upon him when we marched a few days after, for he had anticipated a very different result.

The saddle which sat between me and the horse on that occasion ought not to be overlooked, for, take it all in all, I never expect to see its like again. I found it in our deserted house at Arruda; the seat was as soft as a pillow, and covered with crimson silk velvet, beautifully embroidered, and gilt round the edges. I knew not for what description of rider it had been intended, but I can answer for it that it was exceedingly comfortable in dry weather, and that in wet it possessed all the good properties of a sponge, keeping the rider cool and comfortable.

While we remained in the lines, there was a small, thatched, mud-walled, deserted cottage under the hill near our company's post, which we occasionally used as a shelter from the sun or the rain, and some of our men in prowling about one day discovered two massive silver salvers concealed in the thatch. The captain of the company very properly ordered them to be taken care of, in the hope that their owner would come to claim them, while the soldiers in the mean time continued very eager in their researches in the neighbourhood, in expectation of making further discoveries, in which however they were unsuccessful. After we had altogether abandoned the cottage, a Portuguese gentleman arrived one day and told us that he was the owner of the place, and that he had some plate concealed there which he wished permission to remove. Captain —— immediately desired the salvers to be given to him, concluding that they were what he had come in search of, but on looking at them he said that they did not belong to him, that what he wished to remove was concealed under the dunghill, and he accordingly proceeded there and dug out about a cart load of gold and silver articles which he carried off, while our unsuccessful searchers stood by, cursing their mutual understandings which had suffered such a prize to slip through their fingers, and many an innocent heap of manure was afterwards torn to pieces in consequence of that morning's lesson.

Massena having abandoned his desolated position in the early part of November, the fifteenth of that month saw me seated on my cloth of crimson and gold, taking a look at the French rear guard, which, under Junot, was in position between Cartaxo and El Valle. A cool November breeze whistled through an empty stomach, which the gilded outside was insufficient to satisfy. Our chief of division was red hot to send us over to warm ourselves with the French fires, and had absolutely commenced the movement when the opportune arrival of Lord Wellington put a stop to it; for, as it was afterwards discovered, we should have burnt our fingers.

While we therefore awaited further orders on the road side, I was amused to see General Slade, who commanded the brigade of cavalry attached to us, order up his sumpter mule, and borrowing our doctor's medical panniers, which he placed in the middle of the road by way of a table, he, with the assistance of his orderly dragoon, undid several packages, and presently displayed a set-out which was more than enough to tempt the cupidity of the hungry beholders, consisting of an honest-looking loaf of bread, a thundering large tongue, and the fag end of a ham—a bottle of porter, and half a one of brandy. The bill of fare is still as legibly written on my remembrance as on the day that I first saw it—for such things cannot be, and overcome us like the vision of a Christmas feast, without especial longings for an invitation; but we might have sighed and looked, and sighed again, for our longings were useless—our doctor, with his usual politeness, made sundry attempts to insinuate himself upon the hospitable notice of the general, by endeavouring to arrange the panniers in a more classical shape for his better accommodation, for which good service he received bow for bow, with a considerable quantity of thanks into the bargain, which, after he had done his best, (and that was no joke,) still left him the general's debtor on the score of civility. When the doctor had failed, the attempt of any other individual became a forlorn hope, but nothing seems desperate to a British soldier, and two thorough going ones, the commanders of the twelfth and fourteenth light dragoons, (Colonels Ponsonby and Harvey,) whose olfactory nerves, at a distance of some hundred yards, having snuffed up the tainted air, eagerly followed the scent, and came to a dead point before the general and his panniers. But although they had flushed their game they did not succeed in bagging it; for while the general gave them plenty of his own tongue, the deuce take the slice did he offer of the bullock's—and as soon as he had satisfied his appetite he very deliberately bundled up the fragments, and shouted to horse, for the enemy had by this time withdrawn from our front, and joined the main body of the army on the heights of Santarem. We closed up to them, and exchanged a few civil shots—a ceremony which cannot be dispensed with between contending armies on first taking up their ground, for it defines their territorial rights, and prevents future litigation.

Day-light next morning showed that, though they had passed a restless night, they were not disposed to extend their walk unless compelled to it, for their position, formidable by nature, had, by their unwearied activity, become more so by art—the whole crest of it being already fenced with an abbatis of felled trees, and the ground turned up in various directions.

One of our head-quarter staff-officers came to take a look at them in the early part of the morning, and, assuming a superior knowledge of all that was passing, said that they had nothing there but a rear-guard, and that we should shove them from it in the course of the day—upon which, our brigadier, (Sir Sidney Beckwith,) who had already scanned every thing with his practised eye, dryly remarked, in his usual homely but emphatic language, "It was a gay strong rear guard that built that abbatis last night!" And so it proved, for their whole army had been employed in its construction, and there they remained for the next four months.

The company to which I belonged, (and another,) had a deserted farming establishment turned over for our comfort and convenience during the period that it might suit the French marshal to leave us in the enjoyment thereof. It was situated on a slope of the hill overlooking the bridge of Santarem, and within range of the enemy's sentries, and near the end of it was one of the finest aloes I have ever seen, certainly not less than twelve or fourteen feet high. Our mansion was a long range of common thatched building—one end was a kitchen—next to it a parlour, which became also the drawing and sleeping room of two captains, with their six jolly subs—a door-way communicated from thence to the barn, which constituted the greater part of the range, and lodged our two hundred men. A small apartment at the other extremity, which was fitted up for a wine-press, lodged our non-commissioned officers; while in the back-ground we had accommodation for our cattle, and for sundry others of the domestic tribes, had we had the good fortune to be furnished with them.

The door-way between the officers' apartment and that of the soldiers showed, (what is so very common on the seat of war,) when "a door is not a door," but a shovel full of dust and ashes—the hinges had resisted manfully by clinging to the door-post, but a fiery end had overtaken the timber, and we were obliged to fill up the vacuum with what loose stones we could collect in the neighbourhood; it was, nevertheless, so open, that a hand might be thrust through it in every direction, and, of course, the still small voices on either side of the partition were alike audible to all. I know not what degree of amusement the soldiers derived from the proceedings on our side of the wall, but I know that the jests, the tales, and the songs, from their side, constituted our greatest enjoyment during the many long winter nights that it was our fate to remain there.

The early part of their evenings was generally spent in witticisms and tales; and, in conclusion, by way of a lullaby, some long-winded fellow commenced one of those everlasting ditties in which soldiers and sailors delight so much—they are all to the same tune, and the subject, (if one may judge by the tenor of the first ninety-eight verses,) was battle, murder, or sudden death; but I never yet survived until the catastrophe, although I have often, to attain that end, stretched my waking capacities to the utmost. I have sometimes heard a fresh arrival from England endeavour to astonish their unpolished ears with "the white blossomed sloe," or some such refined melody, but it was invariably coughed down as instantaneously as if it had been the sole voice of a conservative amidst a select meeting of radicals.

The wit and the humour of the rascals were amusing beyond any thing—and to see them next morning drawn up as mute as mice, and as stiff as lamp-posts, it was a regular puzzler to discover on which post the light had shone during the bye-gone night, knowing, as we did, that there were at least a hundred original pages for Joe Miller, encased within the head-pieces then before us.

Their stories, too, were quite unique—one, (an Englishman,) began detailing the unfortunate termination of his last matrimonial speculation. He had got a pass one day to go from Shorncliffe to Folkestone, and on the way he fell in with one of the finest young women "as ever he seed! my eye, as we say in Spain, if she was not a wapper; with a pair of cheeks like cherries, and shanks as clean as my ramrod, she was bounding over the downs like a young colt, and faith, if she would not have been with her heels clean over my head if I had'n't caught her up and demanded a parley. O, Jem, man, but she was a nice creature! and all at once got so fond of me too, that there was no use waiting; and so we settled it all that self same night, and on the next morning we were regularly spliced, and I carries her home to a hut which Corporal Smith and I hired behind the barrack for eighteen pence a week. Well! I'll be blessed if I was'n't as happy as a shilling a day and my wife could make me for two whole days; but the next morning, just before parade, while Nancy was toasting a slice of tommy[B] for our breakfast, who should darken our door but the carcase of a great sea marine, who began blinking his goggle eyes like an owl in a gooseberry bush, as if he did'n't see nothing outside on them; when all at once Nancy turned, and, my eye, what a squall she set up as she threw the toast in the fire, and upset my tinful of crowdy, while she twisted her arms round his neck like a vice, and began kissing him at no rate, he all the time blubbering, like a bottle-nose in a shoal, about flesh of his flesh, and bones of his bones, and all the like o' that. Well! says I to myself, says I, this is very queer any how—and then I eyes the chap a bit, and then says I to him, (for I began to feel somehow at seeing my wife kissed all round before my face without saying by your leave,) an' says I to him, (rather angrily,) look ye, Mr. Marine, if you don't take your ugly mouth farther off from my wife, I'll just punch it with the butt end of my rifle! thunder and oons, you great sea lobster that you are, don't you see that I married her only two days ago just as she stands, bones and all, and you to come at this time o' day to claim a part on her!"

[B] Brown loaf.

The marine, however, had come from the wars as a man of peace—he had already been at her father's, and learnt all that had befallen her, and, in place of provoking the rifleman's further ire, he sought an amicable explanation, which was immediately entered into.

It appeared that Nancy and he had been married some three years before; that the sloop of war to which he belonged was ordered to the West Indies, and while cruising on that station an unsuccessful night attempt was made to cut out an enemy's craft from under a battery, in the course of which the boat in which he was embarked having been sent to the bottom with a thirty-two pound shot, he was supposed to have gone along with it, and to be snugly reposing in Davy Jones's locker. His present turn up, however, proved his going down to have been a mistake, as he had succeeded in saving his life at the expense of his liberty, for the time being; but the vessel, on her voyage to France, was captured by a British frigate bound for India, and the royal marine became once more the servant of his lawful sovereign.

In the meanwhile Nancy had been duly apprised of his supposed fate by some of his West Indian shipmates—she was told that she might still hope; but Nancy had no idea of holding on by any thing so precarious—she was the wife of a sailor, had been frequently on board a ship, and had seen how arbitrarily every thing, even time itself, is made subservient to their purposes, and she determined to act upon the same principle, so that, as the first lieutenant authorizes it to be eight o'clock after the officer of the watch has reported that it is so, in like manner did Nancy, when her husband was reported dead, order that he should be so; but it would appear that her commands had about as much influence over her husband's fate as the first lieutenant's had over time, from his making his untoward appearance so early in her second honey-moon.

As brevity formed no part of the narrator's creed, I have merely given an outline of the marine's history, such as I understood it, and shall hasten to the conclusion in the same manner.

The explanation over, a long silence ensued—each afraid to pop the question, which must be popp'd, of whose wife was Nancy? and when, at last, it did come out, it was more easily asked than answered, for, notwithstanding all that had passed, they continued both to be deeply enamoured of their mutual wife, and she of both, nor could a voluntary resignation be extracted from either of them, so that they were eventually obliged to trust the winning or the losing of that greatest of all earthly blessings, (a beloved wife,) to the undignified decision of the toss of a halfpenny. The marine won, and carried off the prize—while the rifleman declared that he had never yet forgiven himself for being cheated out of his half, for he feels convinced that the marine had come there prepared with a ha'penny that had two tails.

The tail of the foregoing story was caught up by a Patlander with—"Well! the devil fetch me if I would have let her gone that way any how, if the marine had brought twenty tails with his ha'penny!—but you see I was kicked out of the only wife I never had without ere a chance of being married at all.

"Kitty, you see, was an apprentice to Miss Crump, who keeps that thundering big milliner's shop in Sackville-street, and I was Mike Kinahan's boy at the next door—so you see, whenever it was Kitty's turn to carry out one of them great blue boxes with thingumbobs for the ladies, faith, I always contrived to steal away for a bit, to give Kitty a lift, and the darling looked so kind and so grateful for't that I was at last quite kilt!"

I must here take up the thread of Paddy's story for the same reasons given in the last, and inform the reader that, though he himself had received the finishing blow, he was far from satisfied that Kitty's case was equally desperate, for, notwithstanding her grateful looks, they continued to be more like those of a mistress to an obliging servant than of a sweetheart. As for a kiss, he could not get any thing like one even by coaxing, and the greatest bliss he experienced, in the course of his love making, was in the interchange among the fingers which the frequent transfer of the band-box permitted, and which Pat declared went quite through and through him.

Matters, however, were far from keeping pace with Paddy's inclinations, and feeling convinced at last, that there must be a rival in the case, he determined to watch her very closely, in order to have his suspicions removed, or, if confirmed, to give his rival such a pounding as should prevent his ever crossing his path again. Accordingly, seeing her one evening leave the shop better dressed than usual, he followed at a distance, until opposite the post-office, when he saw her joined, (evidently by appointment,) by a tall well-dressed spalpeen of a fellow, and they then proceeded at a smart pace up the adjoining street—Paddy followed close behind in the utmost indignation, but before he had time to make up his mind as to which of his rival's bones he should begin by breaking, they all at once turned into a doorway, which Paddy found belonged to one of those dancing shops so common in Dublin.

Determined not to be foiled in that manner, and ascertaining that a decent suit of toggery and five tin-pennies in his pocket would ensure him a free admission, he lost no time in equipping in his Sunday's best, and having succeeded in borrowing the needful for the occasion out of his master's till, he sallied forth bent on conquest.

Paddy was ushered up stairs into the ball-room with all due decorum, but that commodity took leave of him at the door, for the first thing he saw on entering, was his mistress and his rival, within a yard of him, whirling in the mazes of a country dance. Pat's philosophy was unequal to the sight, and throwing one arm round the young lady's waist, and giving her partner a douse in the chops with the other, it made as satisfactory a change in their relative positions as he could have reasonably desired, by sending his rival in a continuation of his waltzing movement, to the extremity of the room to salute the wall at the end of it.

Pat, however, was allowed but brief space to congratulate himself on his successful debut in a ball-room, for in the next instant he found himself most ungracefully propelled through the door-way, by sundry unseen hands, which had grasped him tightly by the scruff of the neck, and on reaching the top of the staircase, he felt as if a hundred feet had given a simultaneous kick which raised him like a balloon for a short distance, and then away he went heels over head towards the bottom. It so happened at this particular moment, that three gentlemen very sprucely dressed, had just paid their money and were in the act of ascending, taking that opportunity, as gentlemen generally do, of arranging their hair and adjusting their frills to make their entré the more bewitching, and it is therefore unnecessary to say that the descent of our aëronaut not only disturbed the economy of their wigs but carried all three to the bottom with the impetus of three sacks of potatoes.

Paddy's temperament had somewhat exceeded madman's heat before he commenced his aërial flight, and, as may be imagined, it had not much cooled in its course, so that when he found himself safely landed, and, as luck would have it, on the top of one of the unfortunates, he very unceremoniously began taking the change out of his head for all the disasters of the night, and having quickly demolished the nose and bunged up both eyes, he (seeing nothing more to be done thereabouts) next proceeded to pound the unfortunate fellow's head against the floor, before they succeeded in lugging him off to finish his love adventure in the watch-house.

That night was the last of Paddy's love and of his adventures in the City of Dublin. His friends were respectable of their class, and on the score of his former good conduct, succeeded in appeasing the aggrieved parties and inducing them to withdraw from the prosecution on condition that he quitted the city for ever, and, when he had time to reflect on the position in which the reckless doings of the few hours had placed him, he was but too happy to subscribe to it, and passing over to Liverpool enlisted with a recruiting party of ours, and became an admirable soldier.

Having given two of the soldiers' stories, it may probably be amusing to my readers to hear one from our side of the wall. It was related by one of our officers, a young Scotchman, who was a native of the place, and while I state that I give it to the best of my recollection, I could have wished, as the tale is a true one, that it had fallen into the hands of the late lamented author of Waverly, who would have done greater justice to its merits.

THE OFFICER'S STORY.

On the banks of the river Carron, near the celebrated village of that name, which shows its glowing fields of fiery furnaces, stirred by ten thousand imps of darkness, as if all the devils from the nether world there held perpetual revels, toasting their red hot irons and twisting them into all manner of fantastic shapes—tea-kettles, ten-pounders, and ten-penny nails—I say, that near that village—not in the upper and romantic region of it, where old Norval of yore fished up his basketful of young Norvals—but about a mile below where the river winds through the low country, in a bight of it there stands a stately two-story house, dashed with pale pink and having a tall chimney at each end, sticking up like a pair of asses' ears. The main building is supported by a brace of wings not large enough to fly away with it, but standing in about the same proportions that the elbows of an easy chair do to its back. The hall door is flanked on each side by a pillar of stone as thick as my leg, and over it there is a niche in the wall which in the days of its glory might have had the honour of lodging Neptune or Nicodemus, but is now devoted exclusively to the loves of the sparrows.

Viewed at a little distance the mansion still wears a certain air of imposing gentility—looking like the substantial retreat of one who had well feathered his nest upon the high seas, or as an adventurer in foreign lands. But a nearer approach shews that the day of its glory has long departed, the winds are howling through the glassless casements, the roof is plastered by the pigeons, the pigs and the poultry are galloping at large over the ruins of the garden-wall, luxuriating in its once costly shrubbery, and a turkey is most likely seen at the hall-door, staring the visitor impertinently in the face, and blustering as if he would say, "if you want me you must down with the dust."

Had that same turkey, however, lived some six score years before, in the life-time, or in the death-time of the last of its lairds, he would have found himself compelled to gabble to another tune, for in place of being allowed to insult his guests in his master's hall, he would have been called upon to share his merry-thought for their amusement at the festive board.

That the last laird of Abbots-Haugh had lived like a right good country gentleman all of the olden days, the manner of his death will testify, for though his living history is lost in the depth of time, his death is still alive in the recollections of our existing great grandfathers. He was, to the best of my belief, wifeless and relationless, nevertheless, when the time approached that "the old man he must die," he did as all prudent men do, made his temporal arrangements previous to the settling of that last debt which he owed to nature.

The laird, it appeared, was not haunted by the fears of most men, which forbid the inspection of their last testaments, until the last shovelful of earth has secured their remains from the wrath of disappointed expectants, and from a conscious dread too that the only tears that would otherwise be shed at their obsequies, would be by the undertaker and his assistants with their six big black horses; but the laird, as before said, was altogether another manner of man, and his last request was, that certain persons should consider themselves his executors, that they should open his will the moment the breath was out of his body, and that they should see his last injunctions faithfully executed as they hoped that he should rest calmly in his grave.

The laird quietly gave up the ghost, and his last wish was complied with; when, to the no small astonishment of the executors, the only bequest which his will decreed was, that every man within a given distance of his residence was to be invited to the funeral, and that they were all to be filled blind drunk before the commencement of the procession!

This was certainly one of the most jovial wills that was ever made by a dying man, and it was acted upon to the letter.

The appointed day arrived, and so did the guests too; and although the invitations had only extended to the men, yet did their wives, like considerate folks as they always are, reflect that a dying man cannot have all his wits about him, and had any one but taken the trouble to remind him that there were such things as angels even in this world, they would no doubt have been included, and with that view of the case they considered it their duty to give their aid in the mournful ceremony.

The duties of the day at length began as was usual on those days, by—

"One-mile prayers and half-mile graces,"

to which the assembled multitude impatiently listened with their

"Toom wames and lang wry faces."

That ceremony over, they proceeded with all due diligence to honour the last request of the departed laird.

The droves of bullocks, sheep, and turkeys, which had been sacrificed for the occasion, were served up at mid-day, and as every description of foreign and British wines, spirits, and ales flowed in pailfuls, the executors indulged in the very reasonable expectation that the whole party would be sufficiently glorious to authorize their proceeding with their last duty so as to have it over before dark: but they had grossly miscalculated the capacities of their guests, for even at dusk when they considered themselves compelled to put the procession in motion at all hazards, it was found that many of them were not more than "half seas over."

The distance from Abbots-Haugh to the dormitory of the parish-church is nearly two miles, the first half of the road runs still between two broad deep ditches which convey the drainings of these lowlands into the river; the other half is now changed by the intersection of the great canal, but an avenue formed by two quick-set hedge-rows still marks its former line.

Doctor Mac Adam had not in those days begun to disturb the bowels of the harmless earth, by digging for stones wherewith to deface its surface, so that the roads were perfect evergreens, (when nobody travelled upon them,) but at the period I speak of, a series of wet weather and perpetual use had converted them into a sort of hodge-podge, which contributed nothing towards maintaining the gravity of the unsteady multitude now in motion, so that although the hearse started with some five or six hundred followers, all faithful and honest in their purpose to see the end of the ceremony, there were not above as many dozens who succeeded in following it into the church-yard, which it reached about midnight. These few however went on in the discharge of their duty and proceeded to remove the coffin from the hearse to its intended receptacle, but to their utter consternation there was no longer a coffin or a corpse there!

Tam O'Shanter lived a generation later than the period of my history, and I believe that there were few Scotchmen even in his days who were altogether free from supernatural dread however well primed with whiskey; but certain it is, that on this occasion every bonnet that was not on a bald head rose an inch or two higher, and many of them were pitched off altogether, as they began to reason (where reason there was none) as to the probable flight of the coffin; and though they were unanimously of opinion that it had gone the Lord knows where, yet they at last agreed that it was nevertheless a duty they owed the deceased to go back to Abbots-Haugh and inquire whether the laird had not returned. They accordingly provided themselves with lanterns, and examined all parts of the road on their way back, which was easily traced by the sleeping and besotted persons of the funeral party which formed a continuous link from the one place to the other—some lying in the road—some stuck fast in the hedges, but the majority three parts drowned in the ditches. When our return party arrived near the site of the present distillery, which happened to be the deepest part of the way, they heard something floundering at a frightful rate at the edge of a pool of water on the road side, and which, on examination, proved to be a huge old woman who was in the habit of supplying the farmers in that part of the country with loaf bread for their Sunday's breakfasts; she was holding on fiercely by what appeared to be the stump of a tree, while her nether end was immersed in the water, but when they went to pull her out, they found to their delight and astonishment that she was actually holding on by the end of the lost coffin, which had fallen at the edge of the pool. Old Nelly could give no information as to how it got there, she had some recollection of having been shoved into the hearse at first starting, but knew nothing more until she found herself up to her oxters in the water, holding fast by something—that she had bawled until she was hoarse, and had now nothing but a kick left to tell the passers by that a poor creature was perishing. She had most probably been reposing on the coffin as a place of rest, and been jolted a step beyond it when the two fell out.

A council was now called to determine the proper mode of further proceeding, when it was moved and carried that a vote of censure be passed upon the executors for having failed to fulfil the provisions of the laird's will, for in place of being drunk, as they ought to have been, they were all shamefully sober; secondly, that it was in vain to repeat the attempt to bury him until the conditions upon which he died were complied with, for he had pledged himself not to rest quiet in his grave if it was neglected, and it was evident from what he had already done that he was not to be humbugged, but would again slip through their fingers unless justice was done to his memory, and it was therefore finally resolved that the laird be carried back to his own hall, there to lie in state until the terms of his testament were confirmed and ratified beyond dispute.

Back, therefore, they went to Abbots-Haugh, and set themselves again right honestly to work, as good and loyal vassals to obey their master's last behests, and that they at length succeeded in laying the restless spirit may be inferred from the fact that it was the afternoon of the third day from that time before the party felt themselves in a condition to renew the attempt to complete the ceremony; however it was then done effectually, as for fear of accidents, and not to lose sight of the coffin a second time, as many as there was room for took post on the top of it, provided with the means of finishing, at their destination, what the defunct might have considered underdone on their departure. And accordingly when they had at last succeeded in depositing the coffin within the family vault, and had set the bricklayers to work, they renewed their revels in the church-yard, until they finally saw the tomb closed over one of the most eccentric characters that ever went into it.

I shall now take leave of tales, and recommence the narration of passing events by mentioning that while we remained at Valle, one of our officers made an amusing attempt to get up a pack of hounds. He offered a dollar a head for anything in the shape of a dog that might be brought to him, which in a very short time furnished his kennel with about fifteen couple, composed of poodles, sheep-dogs, curs, and every species but the one that was wanted. When their numbers became sufficiently formidable to justify the hope that there might be a few noses in the crowd gifted with the sense of smelling something more game than their porridge-pots; the essay was made, but they proved a most ungrateful pack, for they were no sooner at liberty than every one went howling away to his own home as if a tin kettle had been tied to his tail. (A prophetic sort of feeling of what would inevitably have befallen him had he remained a short time longer.)

Scotchmen are generally famed for the size of their noses, and I know not whether it is that on service they get too much crammed with snuff and gunpowder, or from what other cause, but certain it is that they do not prove themselves such useful appendages to the countenance there as they do in their own country, in scenting out whatever seemeth good unto the wearer, for I remember one day, while waging war against the snipes on the flooded banks of the Rio Maior, in passing by the rear of a large country house which was occupied by the commander-in-chief of the cavalry, (Sir Stapleton Cotton,) I was quite horrified to find myself all at once amidst the ruins of at least twenty dozen of sheep's heads, unskinned and unsinged, to the utter disgrace of about two thousand highland noses belonging to the forty-second and seventy-ninth regiments, which had, all the while of their accumulation, been lodged within a mile, and not over and above well provided with that national standing dish.

I will venture to say, that had such a deposit been made any evening on the North Inch of Perth in the days of their great grandfathers, there would have been an instinctive gathering of all the clans between the Tay and Cairngorum before day-light next morning.

[CHAP. VII.]

"Blood and destruction shall be so in use,
And dreadful objects so familiar,
That mothers shall but smile when they behold
Their infants quartered with the hands of war."

The month of March, eighteen hundred and eleven, showed the successful workings of Lord Wellington's admirable arrangements. The hitherto victorious French army, which, under their "spoilt child of fortune," had advanced to certain conquest, were now obliged to bundle up their traps and march back again, leaving nearly half their numbers to fatten the land which they had beggared. They had fallen, too, on nameless ground, in sickness and in want, and without a shot, by which their friends and relatives might otherwise have proudly pointed to the graves they filled.

Portugal, at that period, presented a picture of sadness and desolation which it is sickening to think of—its churches spoliated, its villages fired, and its towns depopulated.

It was no uncommon sight, on entering a cottage, to see in one apartment some individuals of the same family dying of want, some perishing under the brutal treatment of their oppressors, and some (preferring death to dishonour) lying butchered upon their own hearths.

These were scenes which no Briton could behold without raising his voice in thanksgiving to the Author of all good, that the home of his childhood had been preserved from such fearful visitations; and yet how melancholy it is to reflect that even in that cherished home there should be many self-styled patriots, who not only grumble at, but would deny their country's pittance to those who devoted the best part of their lives, sacrificed their health, and cheerfully scattered their limbs in rolling the tide of battle from its door.

I lament it feelingly but not selfishly, for as far as I am individually concerned, my country and I are quits. I passed through the fiery ordeal of these bloody times and came out scatheless. While I parted from its service on the score of expediency, it is to me a source of pride to reflect (may I be pardoned the expression) that we parted with mutual regret. That she may never again require a re-union with such an humble individual as myself may heaven in its infinite mercy forfend; but if she does, I am happy in the feeling that I have still health and strength, and a heart and soul devoted to her cause.

Massena's retreat having again called the sword from its scabbard, where it had slumbered for months, it was long ere it had another opportunity of running to rust through idleness, seeing that it was not only in daily communication with the heads of the enemy's corps in the course of their return through Portugal, but wherever else these same heads were visible, and for a year and a half from that date they were rarely out of sight.

On the 9th, we came up with their rear-guard on a table land near Pombal. We had no force with which to make any serious attack upon it, so that it was a day's dragooning, "all cry and little wool." We had one company mixed among them from day-light until dark, but they came back to us without a scratch.

On the morning of the 11th, finding that the enemy had withdrawn from the scene of the former day's skirmish, we moved in pursuit towards the town, which they still occupied as an advanced post. Two of our companies, with some Caçadores and a squadron of the royal dragoons, made a dash into it, driving the enemy out, and along with a number of prisoners captured the baggage of young Soult.

I know not whether young Soult was the son of old Soult or only the son of his father; all I know is, that by the letters found in his portmanteau, he was the colonel of that name.

His baggage, I remember, was mounted on a stately white horse with a Roman nose and a rat tail, which last I believe is rather an unusual appendage to a horse of that colour, but he was a waggish looking fellow, and probably had shaken all the hairs out of his tail in laughing at the contents of the portmanteau of which he was the bearer.

He and his load were brought to the hammer the same day by his captors, and excited much merriment among us. I wish that I felt myself at liberty to publish an inventory of the contents of a French officer's portmanteau, but as they excited such excess of laughter in a horse I fear it would prove fatal to my readers—not to mention (as I see written on some of the snug corners of our thoroughfares) that "decency forbids." Suffice it that it abounded in luxuries which we dreamt not of.

Next day, the 12th, in following the retiring foe we came to the field of Redinha. I have never in the course of my subsequent military career seen a more splendid picture of war than was there shewn. Ney commanded the opposing force, which was formed on the table land in front of the town in the most imposing shape. We light folks were employed in the early part of the action in clearing the opposing lights from the woods which flanked his position, and in the course of an hour about thirty thousand British, as if by magic, were seen advancing on the plain in three lines, with the order and precision of a field day: the French disappeared before them like snow under the influence of a summer's sun. The forces on both sides were handled by masters in the art.

A late lady writer (Miss Pardoe) I see has now peopled Redinha with banditti, and as far as my remembrance goes, they could not have selected a more favourable position, with this single but important professional drawback, that there can be but few folks thereabout worth robbing.

I know not what class of beings were its former tenants, but at the time I speak of, the curse of the Mac Gregors was upon them, for the retiring enemy had given

"Their roofs to the flames and their flesh to the eagles,"

and there seemed to be no one left to record its history.

After the peace, in 1814, I met, at a ball in Castel Sarrazin, the colonel who commanded the regiment opposed to us in the wood on that occasion. He confessed that he had never been so roughly handled, and had lost four hundred of his men. He was rather a rough sort of a diamond himself, and seemed anxious to keep his professional hand in practice, for he quarreled that same night with one of his countrymen and was bled next morning with a small sword.

From Redinha we proceeded near to Condeixa, and passed that day and night on the road side in comparative peace. Not so the next, for at Casal Nova, on the 14th, we breakfasted, dined, and supped on powder and ball.

Our general of division was on leave of absence in England during this important period, and it was our curse in the interim to fall into the hands successively of two or three of the worthiest and best of men, but whose only claims to distinction as officers was their sheet of parchment. The consequence was, that whenever there was any thing of importance going on, we were invariably found leaving undone those things which we ought to have done, and doing that which we ought not to have done. On the occasion referred to we were the whole day battering our brains out against stone walls at a great sacrifice of life, whereas, had we waited with common prudence until the proper period, when the flank movements going on under the direction of our illustrious chief had begun to take effect, the whole of the loss would have been on the other side, but as it was, I am afraid that although we carried our point we were the greatest sufferers. Our battalion had to lament the loss of two very valuable officers on that occasion, Major Stewart and Lieutenant Strode.

At the commencement of the action, just as the mist of the morning began to clear away, a section of our company was thrown forward among the skirmishers, while the other three remained in reserve behind a gentle eminence, and the officer commanding it, seeing a piece of rising ground close to the left, which gave him some uneasiness, he desired me to take a man with me to the top of it, and to give him notice if the enemy attempted any movement on that side. We got to the top; but if we had not found a couple of good sized stones on the spot, which afforded shelter at the moment, we should never have got any where else, for I don't think they expended less than a thousand shots upon us in the course of a few minutes. My companion, John Rouse, a steady sturdy old rifleman, no sooner found himself snugly covered, than he lugged out his rifle to give them one in return, but the slightest exposure brought a dozen balls to the spot in an instant, and I was amused to see old Rouse, at every attempt, jerking back his head with a sort of knowing grin, as if it were only a parcel of schoolboys, on the other side, threatening him with snow-balls; but seeing, at last, that his time for action was not yet come, he withdrew his rifle, and, knowing my inexperience in those matters, he very good-naturedly called to me not to expose myself looking out just then, for, said he, "there will be no moving among them while this shower continues."

When the shower ceased we found that they had also ceased to hold their formidable post, and, as quickly as may be, we were to be seen standing in their old shoes, mixed up with some of the forty-third, and among them the gallant Napier, the present historian of the Peninsular War, who there got a ball through his body which seemed to me to have reduced the remainder of his personal history to the compass of a simple paragraph: it nevertheless kept him but a very short while in the back-ground.

I may here remark that the members of that distinguished family were singularly unfortunate in that way, as they were rarely ever in any serious action in which one or all of them did not get hit.

The two brothers in our division were badly wounded on this occasion, and, if I remember right, they were also at Busaco; the naval captain, (the present admiral of that name,) was there as an amateur, and unfortunately caught it on a spot where he had the last wish to be distinguished, for, accustomed to face broadsides on his native element, he had no idea of taking in a ball in any other direction than from the front, but on shore we were obliged to take them just as they came!

This severe harassing action closed only with the day-light, and left the French army wedged in the formidable pass of Miranda de Corvo.

They seemed so well in hand that some doubt was entertained whether they did not intend to burst forth upon us; but, as the night closed in, the masses were seen to melt, and at day-light next morning they were invisible.

I had been on picquet that night in a burning village, and the first intimation we had of their departure was by three Portuguese boys, who had been in the service of French officers, and who took the opportunity of the enemy's night march to make their escape—they seemed well fed, well dressed, and got immediate employment in our camp, and they proved themselves very faithful to their new masters. One of them continued as a servant to an officer for many years after the peace.

In the course of the morning we passed the brigade of General Nightingale, composed of Highlanders, if I remember right, who had made a flank movement to get a slice at the enemy's rear guard; but he had arrived at the critical pass a little too late.

In the afternoon we closed up to the enemy at Foz d'Aronce, and, after passing an hour in feeling for their different posts, we began to squat ourselves down for the night on the top of a bleak hill, but soon found that we had other fish to fry. Lord Wellington, having a prime nose for smelling out an enemy's blunder, no sooner came up than he discovered that Ney had left himself on the wrong side of the river, and immediately poured down upon him with our division, Picton's, and Pack's Portuguese, and, after a sharp action, which did not cease until after dark, we drove him across the river with great loss.

I have often lamented in the course of the war that battalion officers, on occasions of that kind, were never entrusted with a peep behind the curtain. Had we been told before we advanced that there was but a single division in our front, with a river close behind them, we would have hunted them to death, and scarcely a man could have escaped; but, as it was, their greatest loss was occasioned by their own fears and precipitancy in taking to the river at unfordable places—for we were alike ignorant of the river, the localities, or the object of the attack; so that when we carried the position, and exerted ourselves like prudent officers to hold our men in hand, we were, from want of information, defeating the very object which had been intended, that of hunting them on to the finale.

When there is no object in view beyond the simple breaking of the heads of those opposed to us, there requires no speechification; but, on all occasions, like the one related, it ought never to be lost sight of—it is easily done—it never, by any possibility, can prove disadvantageous, and I have seen many instances in which the advantages would have been incalculable. I shall mention as one—that three days after the battle of Vittoria, in following up the retreating foe, we found ourselves in a wood, engaged in a warm skirmish, which we concluded was occasioned by our pushing the enemy's rear guard faster than they found it convenient to travel; but, by and bye, when they had disappeared, we found that we were near the junction of two roads, and that we had all the while been close in, and engaged with the flank of another French division, which was retiring by a road running parallel with our own. The road (and that there was a retiring force upon it) must, or ought to have been known to some of our staff officers, and had they only communicated their information, there was nothing to have prevented our dashing through their line of march, and there is little doubt, too, but the thousands which passed us, while we stood there exchanging shots with them, would have fallen into our hands.

The day after the action at Foz d'Aronce was devoted to repose, of which we stood much in want, for we had been marching and fighting incessantly from day-light until dark for several consecutive days, without being superabundantly provisioned; and our jackets, which had been tolerably tight fits at starting, were now beginning to sit as gracefully as sacks upon us. When wounds were abundant, however, we did not consider it a disadvantage to be low in flesh, for the poorer the subject the better the patient!

A smooth ball or a well polished sword will slip through one of your transparent gentlemen so gently that be scarcely feels it, and the holes close again of their own accord. But see the smash it makes in one of your turtle or turkey fed ones! the hospital is ruined in finding materials to reduce his inflammations, and it is ten to one if ever he comes to the scratch again.

On descending to the river side next morning to trace the effects of the preceding night's combat, we were horrified and disgusted by the sight of a group of at least five hundred donkeys standing there ham-strung. The poor creatures looked us piteously in the face, as much as to say, "Are you not ashamed to call yourselves human beings?" And truly we were ashamed to think that even our enemy could be capable of such refinement in cruelty. I fancy the truth was, they were unable to get them over the river, they had not time to put them to death, and, at the same time, they were resolved that we should not have the benefit of their services. Be that as it may, so disgusted and savage were our soldiers at the sight, that the poor donkeys would have been amply revenged, had fate, at that moment, placed five hundred Frenchmen in our hands, for I am confident that every one of them would have undergone the same operation.

The French having withdrawn from our front on the 16th, we crossed the Ciera, at dawn of day, on the 17th; the fords were still so deep, that, as an officer with an empty haversack on my back, it was as much as I could do to flounder across it without swimming. The soldiers ballasted with their knapsacks, and the sixty rounds of ball cartridge were of course in better fording trim. We halted that night in a grove of cork trees, about half a league short of the Alva.

Next morning we were again in motion, and found the enemy's rear-guard strongly posted on the opposite bank of that river.

The Alva was wide, deep, and rapid, and the French had destroyed the bridge of Murcella, and also the one near Pombeira. Nevertheless, we opened a thundering cannonade on those in our front, while Lord Wellington, having, with extraordinary perseverance, succeeded in throwing three of his divisions over it higher up, threatening their line of retreat—it obliged those opposed to us to retire precipitately, when our staff corps, with wonderful celerity, having contrived to throw a temporary bridge over the river, we passed in pursuit and followed until dark; we did not get another look at them that day, and bivouacked for the night in a grove of pines, on some swampy high lands, by the road side, without baggage, cloaks, or eatables of any kind.

Who has not passed down Blackfriars-road of an evening? and who has not seen, in the vicinity of Rowland Hill's chapel, at least half a dozen gentlemen presiding each over his highly polished tin case, surmounted by variegated lamps, and singing out that most enchanting of all earthly melodies to an empty stomach, that has got a sixpence in its clothly casement, "hot, all hot!" The whole concern is not above the size of a drum, and, in place of dealing in its empty sounds, rejoices in mutton-pies, beef-steaks, and kidney-puddings, "hot, all hot!" If the gentlemen had but followed us to the wars, how they would have been worshipped in such a night, even without their lamps.

In these days of invention, when every suggestion for ameliorating the condition of the soldier is thankfully received, I, as one, who have suffered severely by outward thawings and inward gnawings, beg to found my claim to the gratitude of posterity, by proposing that, when a regiment is ordered on active service, the drummers shall deposit their sheep-skins and their cat-o'-nine tails in the regimental store-room, leaving one cat only in the keeping of the drum major. And in lieu thereof that each drummer be armed with a tin drum full of "hot, all hot!" and that whenever the quarter-master fails to find the cold, the odd cat in the keeping of the drum-major shall be called upon to remind him of his duty.

If the simple utterance of the three magical monosyllables already mentioned did not rally a regiment more rapidly round the given point than a tempest of drums and trumpets, I should be astonished, and as we fought tolerably well on empty stomachs, I should like to see what we would not do on kidney puddings, "hot, all hot!"