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Title: Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon, Volume 2 (of 2)

Author: Charles Lever

Release Date: February 2, 2007 [EBook #8674]
[First posted on August 14, 2004]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHARLES O'MALLEY, II. ***




Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team.






CHARLES O'MALLEY


The Irish Dragoon


BY CHARLES LEVER.


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ.


IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.


[Illustration: EXORCISING A SPIRIT.]




CONTENTS.


CHAPTER

I.       THE DOCTOR'S TALE
II.      THE SKIRMISH
III.     THE LINES OF CIUDAD RODRIGO
IV.      THE DOCTOR
V.       THE COA
VI.      THE NIGHT MARCH
VII.     THE JOURNEY
VIII.    THE GHOST
IX.      LISBON
X.       A PLEASANT PREDICAMENT
XI.      THE DINNER
XII.     THE LETTER
XIII.    THE VILLA
XIV.     THE VISIT
XV.      THE CONFESSION
XVI.     MY CHARGER
XVII.    MAURICE
XVIII.   THE MASQUERADE
XIX.     THE LINES
XX.      THE RETREAT OF THE FRENCH
XXI.     PATRICK'S DAY IN THE PENINSULA
XXII.    FUENTES D'ONORO
XXIII.   THE BATTLE OF FUENTES D'ONORO
XXIV.    A RENCONTRE
XXV.     ALMEIDA
XXVI.    A NIGHT ON THE AZAVA
XXVII.   MIKE'S MISTAKE
XXVIII.  MONSOON IN TROUBLE
XXIX.    THE CONFIDENCE
XXX.     THE CANTONMENT
XXXI.    MICKEY FREE'S ADVENTURE
XXXII.   THE SAN PETRO
XXXIII.  THE COUNT'S LETTER
XXXIV.   THE TRENCHES
XXXV.    THE STORMING OF CIUDAD RODRIGO
XXXVI.   THE RAMPART
XXXVII.  THE DESPATCH
XXXVIII. THE LEAVE
XXXIX.   LONDON
XL.      THE BELL AT BRISTOL
XLI.     IRELAND
XLII.    THE RETURN
XLIII.   HOME
XLIV.    AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
XLV.     A SURPRISE
XLVI.    NEW VIEWS
XLVII.   A RECOGNITION
XLVIII.  A MISTAKE
XLIX.    BRUSSELS
L.       AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
LI.      THE DUCHESS OF RICHMOND'S BALL
LII.     QUATRE BRAS
LIII.    WATERLOO
LIV.     BRUSSELS
LV.      CONCLUSION
         L'ENVOI




ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ IN VOL. II

Etchings
EXORCISING A SPIRIT
THE TABLES TURNED 210
THE GENTLEMEN WHO NEVER SLEEP 405
THE WELCOME HOME 472

Illustrations in the Text
A FLYING SHOT 28
O'MALLEY FOLLOWING THE CUSTOM OF HIS COUNTRY 77
MR. FREE TURNED SPANIARD 96
CHARLEY TRYING A CHARGER 118
GOING OUT TO DINNER 152
DISADVANTAGE OF BREAKFASTING OVER A DUELLING-PARTY 157
MR. FREE PIPES WHILE HIS FRIENDS PIPE-CLAY 218
A HUNTING TURN-OUT IN THE PENINSULA 240
MIKE CAPTURING THE TRUMPETER 248
CAPTAIN MICKEY FREE RELATING HIS HEROIC DEEDS 310
BABY BLAKE 355
MICKEY ASTONISHES THE NATIVES 403
DEATH OF HAMMERSLEY 463




CHARLES O'MALLEY.


THE IRISH DRAGOON.


       *       *       *       *       *


CHAPTER I.


THE DOCTOR'S TALE.[1]

"It is now some fifteen years since--if it wasn't for O'Shaughnessy's
wrinkles, I could not believe it five--we were quartered in Loughrea. There
were, besides our regiment, the Fiftieth and the Seventy-third, and a troop
or two of horse artillery, and the whole town was literally a barrack, and
as you may suppose, the pleasantest place imaginable. All the young ladies,
and indeed all those that had got their brevet some years before, came
flocking into the town, not knowing but the Devil might persuade a raw
ensign or so to marry some of them.

"Such dinner parties, such routs and balls, never were heard of west of
Athlone. The gayeties were incessant; and if good feeding, plenty of
claret, short whist, country dances, and kissing could have done the thing,
there wouldn't have been a bachelor with a red coat for six miles around.

[Footnote 1: I cannot permit the reader to fall into the same blunder,
with regard to the worthy "Maurice," as my friend Charles O'Malley has
done. It is only fair to state that the doctor in the following tale was
hoaxing the "dragoon." A braver and a better fellow than Quill never
existed, equally beloved by his brother officers, as delighted in for his
convivial talents. His favorite amusement was to invent some story or
adventure in which, mixing up his own name with that of some friend or
companion, the veracity of the whole was never questioned. Of this nature
was the pedigree he devised in the last chapter of Vol. I. to impose upon
O'Malley, who believed implicitly all he told him.]

"You know the west, O'Mealey, so I needn't tell you what the Galway girls
are like: fine, hearty, free-and-easy, talking, laughing devils, but as
deep and 'cute as a Master in Chancery; ready for any fun or merriment, but
always keeping a sly look-out for a proposal or a tender acknowledgment,
which--what between the heat of a ball-room, whiskey negus, white satin
shoes, and a quarrel with your guardian--it's ten to one you fall into
before you're a week in the same town with them.

"As for the men, I don't admire them so much: pleasant and cheerful enough
when they're handicapping the coat off your back, and your new tilbury for
a spavined pony and a cotton umbrella, but regular devils if you come to
cross them the least in life; nothing but ten paces, three shots apiece, to
begin and end with something like Roger de Coverley, when every one has a
pull at his neighbor. I'm not saying they're not agreeable, well-informed,
and mild in their habits; but they lean overmuch to corduroys and coroners'
inquests for one's taste farther south. However, they're a fine people,
take them all in all; and if they were not interfered with, and their
national customs invaded with road-making, petty-sessions, grand-jury laws,
and a stray commission now and then, they are capable of great things, and
would astonish the world.

"But as I was saying, we were ordered to Loughrea after being fifteen
months in detachments about Birr, Tullamore, Kilbeggan, and all that
country; the change was indeed a delightful one, and we soon found
ourselves the centre of the most marked and determined civilities. I told
you they were wise people in the west; this was their calculation: the
line--ours was the Roscommon militia--are here to-day, there to-morrow;
they may be flirting in Tralee this week, and fighting on the Tagus the
next; not that there was any fighting there in those times, but then there
was always Nova Scotia and St. John's, and a hundred other places that a
Galway young lady knew nothing about, except that people never came back
from them. Now, what good, what use was there in falling in love with them?
Mere transitory and passing pleasure that was. But as for us: there we
were; if not in Kilkenny we were in Cork. Safe out and come again; no
getting away under pretence of foreign service; no excuse for not marrying
by any cruel pictures of the colonies, where they make spatch-cocks of the
officers' wives and scrape their infant families to death with a small
tooth-comb. In a word, my dear O'Mealey, we were at a high premium; and
even O'Shaughnessy, with his red head and the legs you see, had his
admirers. There now, don't be angry, Dan; the men, at least, were mighty
partial to you.

"Loughrea, if it was a pleasant, was a very expensive place. White gloves
and car hire,--there wasn't a chaise in the town,--short whist, too (God
forgive me if I wrong them, but I wonder were they honest), cost money; and
as our popularity rose, our purses fell; till at length, when the one was
at the flood, the other was something very like low water.

"Now, the Roscommon was a beautiful corps; no petty jealousies, no little
squabbling among the officers, no small spleen between the major's wife
and the paymaster's sister,--all was amiable, kind, brotherly, and
affectionate. To proceed, I need only mention one fine trait of them,--no
man ever refused to indorse a brother officer's bill. To think of asking
the amount or even the date would be taken personally; and thus we went on
mutually aiding and assisting each other,--the colonel drawing on me, I
on the major, the senior captain on the surgeon, and so on, a regular
cross-fire of 'promises to pay,' all stamped and regular.

"Not but the system had its inconveniences; for sometimes an obstinate
tailor or bootmaker would make a row for his money, and then we'd be
obliged to get up a little quarrel between the drawer and the acceptor of
the bill; they couldn't speak for some days, and a mutual friend to both
would tell the creditor that the slightest imprudence on his part would
lead to bloodshed; 'and the Lord help him! if there was a duel, he'd be
proved the whole cause of it.' This and twenty other plans were employed;
and finally, the matter would be left to arbitration among our brother
officers, and I need not say, they behaved like trumps. But notwithstanding
all this, we were frequently hard pressed for cash; as the colonel said,
'It's a mighty expensive corps.' Our dress was costly; not that it had much
lace and gold on it, but that, what between falling on the road at night,
shindies at mess, and other devilment, a coat lasted no time. Wine, too,
was heavy on us; for though we often changed our wine merchant, and rarely
paid him, there was an awful consumption at the mess!

"Now, what I have mentioned may prepare you for the fact that before
we were eight weeks in garrison, Shaugh and myself, upon an accurate
calculation of our conjoint finances, discovered that except some vague
promises of discounting here and there through the town, and seven and
fourpence in specie, we were innocent of any pecuniary treasures. This was
embarrassing; we had both embarked in several small schemes of pleasurable
amusement, had a couple of hunters each, a tandem, and a running account--I
think it _galloped_--at every shop in the town.

"Let me pause for a moment here, O'Mealey, while I moralize a little in a
strain I hope may benefit you. Have you ever considered--of course you have
not, you're too young and unreflecting--how beautifully every climate
and every soil possesses some one antidote or another to its own noxious
influences? The tropics have their succulent and juicy fruits, cooling and
refreshing; the northern latitudes have their beasts with fur and warm skin
to keep out the frost-bites; and so it is in Ireland. Nowhere on the face
of the habitable globe does a man contract such habits of small debt, and
nowhere, I'll be sworn, can he so easily get out of any scrape concerning
them. They have their tigers in the east, their antelopes in the south,
their white bears in Norway, their buffaloes in America; but we have an
animal in Ireland that beats them all hollow,--a country attorney!

"Now, let me introduce you to Mr. Matthew Donevan. Mat, as he was
familiarly called by his numerous acquaintances, was a short, florid, rosy
little gentleman of some four or five-and-forty, with a well-curled wig of
the fairest imaginable auburn, the gentle wave of the front locks, which
played in infantine loveliness upon his little bullet forehead, contrasting
strongly enough with a cunning leer of his eye, and a certain _nisi prius_
laugh that however it might please a client, rarely brought pleasurable
feelings to his opponent in a cause.

"Mat was a character in his way; deep, double, and tricky in everything
that concerned his profession, he affected the gay fellow,--liked a jolly
dinner at Brown's Hotel, would go twenty miles to see a steeple-chase and
a coursing match, bet with any one when the odds were strong in his favor,
with an easy indifference about money that made him seem, when winning,
rather the victim of good luck than anything else. As he kept a rather
pleasant bachelor's house, and liked the military much, we soon became
acquainted. Upon him, therefore, for reasons I can't explain, both our
hopes reposed; and Shaugh and myself at once agreed that if Mat could not
assist us in our distresses, the case was a bad one.

"A pretty little epistle was accordingly concocted, inviting the worthy
attorney to a small dinner at five o'clock the next day, intimating that we
were to be perfectly alone, and had a little business to discuss. True to
the hour, Mat was there; and as if instantly guessing that ours was no
regular party of pleasure, his look, dress, and manner were all in keeping
with the occasion,--quiet, subdued, and searching.

"When the claret had been superseded by the whiskey, and the confidential
hours were approaching, by an adroit allusion to some heavy wager then
pending, we brought our finances upon the _tapis_. The thing was done
beautifully,--an easy _adagio_ movement, no violent transition; but hang me
if old Mat didn't catch the matter at once.

"'Oh, it's there ye are, Captain!' said he, with his peculiar grin.
'Two-and-sixpence in the pound, and no assets.'

"'The last is nearer the mark, my old boy,' said Shaugh, blurting out the
whole truth at once. The wily attorney finished his tumbler slowly, as
if giving himself time for reflection, and then, smacking his lips in a
preparatory manner, took a quick survey of the room with his piercing green
eye.

"'A very sweet mare of yours that little mouse-colored one is, with the dip
in the back; and she has a trifling curb--may be it's a spavin, indeed--in
the near hind-leg. You gave five-and-twenty for her, now, I'll be bound?'

"'Sixty guineas, as sure as my name's Dan,' said Shaugh, not at all pleased
at the value put upon his hackney; 'and as to spavin and curb, I'll wager
double the sum she has neither the slightest trace of one nor the other.'

"'I'll not take the bet,' said Mat, dryly. 'Money's scarce in these parts.'

"This hit silenced us both; and our friend continued,--

"'Then there's the bay horse,--a great strapping, leggy beast he is for a
tilbury; and the hunters, worth nothing here; they don't know this country.
Them's neat pistols; and the tilbury is not bad--'

"'Confound you!' said I, losing all patience; 'we didn't ask you here to
appraise our movables. We want to raise the wind without that.'

"'I see, I perceive,' said Mat, taking a pinch of snuff very leisurely as
he spoke,--'I see. Well, that is difficult, very difficult just now. I've
mortgaged every acre of ground in the two counties near us, and a sixpence
more is not to be had that way. Are you lucky at the races?'

"'Never win a sixpence.'

"'What can you do at whist?'

"'Revoke, and get cursed by my partner; devil a more!'

"'That's mighty bad, for otherwise, we might arrange something for you.
Well, I only see one thing for it; you must marry. A wife with some money
will get you out of your present difficulties; and we'll manage that easily
enough.'

"'Come, Dan,' said I, for Shaugh was dropping asleep; 'cheer up, old
fellow. Donevan has found the way to pull us through our misfortunes. A
girl with forty thousand pounds, the best cock shooting in Ireland, an old
family, a capital cellar, all await ye,--rouse up, there!'

"'I'm convanient,' said Shaugh, with a look intended to be knowing, but
really very tipsy.

"'I didn't say much for her personal attractions, Captain,' said Mat; 'nor,
indeed, did I specify the exact sum; but Mrs. Rogers Dooley, of Clonakilty,
might be a princess--'

"'And so she shall be, Mat; the O'Shaughnessys were Kings of Ennis in the
time of Nero and I'm only waiting for a trifle of money to revive the
title. What's her name?'

"'Mrs. Rogers Dooley.'

"'Here's her health, and long life to her,--

    'And may the Devil cut the toes
    Of all her foes,
    That we may know them by their limping.'

"This benevolent wish uttered, Dan fell flat upon the hearth-rug, and was
soon sound asleep. I must hasten on; so need only say that, before we
parted that night, Mat and myself had finished the half-gallon bottle of
Loughrea whiskey, and concluded a treaty for the hand and fortune of Mrs.
Rogers Dooley. He being guaranteed a very handsome percentage on the
property, and the lady being reserved for choice between Dan and myself,
which, however, I was determined should fall upon my more fortunate friend.

"The first object which presented itself to my aching senses the following
morning was a very spacious card of invitation from Mr. Jonas Malone,
requesting me to favor him with the seductions of my society the next
evening to a ball; at the bottom of which, in Mr. Donevan's hand, I read,--

"'Don't fail; you know who is to be there. I've not been idle since I saw
you. Would the captain take twenty-five for the mare?'

"'So far so good,' thought I, as entering O'Shaughnessy's quarters, I
discovered him endeavoring to spell out his card, which, however, had no
postscript. We soon agreed that Mat should have his price; so sending a
polite answer to the invitation, we despatched a still more civil note to
the attorney, and begged of him, as a weak mark of esteem, to accept the
mouse-colored mare as a present."

Here O'Shaughnessy sighed deeply, and even seemed affected by the souvenir.

"Come, Dan, we did it all for the best. Oh, O'Mealey, he was a cunning
fellow; but no matter. We went to the ball, and to be sure, it was a great
sight. Two hundred and fifty souls, where there was not good room for the
odd fifty; such laughing, such squeezing, such pressing of hands and waists
in the staircase, and then such a row and riot at the top,--four fiddles, a
key bugle, and a bagpipe, playing 'Haste to the wedding,' amidst the crash
of refreshment-trays, the tramp of feet, and the sounds of merriment on all
sides!

"It's only in Ireland, after all, people have fun. Old and young, merry and
morose, the gay and cross-grained, are crammed into a lively country-dance;
and ill-matched, ill-suited, go jigging away together to the blast of a bad
band, till their heads, half turned by the noise, the heat, the novelty,
and the hubbub, they all get as tipsy as if they were really deep in
liquor.

"Then there is that particularly free-and-easy tone in every one about.
Here go a couple capering daintily out of the ball-room to take a little
fresh air on the stairs, where every step has its own separate flirtation
party; there, a riotous old gentleman, with a boarding-school girl for
his partner, has plunged smack into a party at loo, upsetting cards and
counters, and drawing down curses innumerable. Here are a merry knot round
the refreshments, and well they may be; for the negus is strong punch,
and the biscuit is tipsy cake,--and all this with a running fire of good
stories, jokes, and witticisms on all sides, in the laughter for which even
the droll-looking servants join as heartily as the rest.

"We were not long in finding out Mrs. Rogers, who sat in the middle of a
very high sofa, with her feet just touching the floor. She was short,
fat, wore her hair in a crop, had a species of shining yellow skin, and a
turned-up nose, all of which were by no means prepossessing. Shaugh and
myself were too hard-up to be particular, and so we invited her to dance
alternately for two consecutive hours, plying her assiduously with negus
during the lulls in the music.

"Supper was at last announced, and enabled us to recruit for new efforts;
and so after an awful consumption of fowl, pigeon-pie, ham, and brandy
cherries, Mrs. Rogers brightened up considerably, and professed her
willingness to join the dancers. As for us, partly from exhaustion, partly
to stimulate our energies, and in some degree to drown reflection, we drank
deep, and when we reached the drawing-room, not only the agreeable guests
themselves, but even the furniture, the venerable chairs, and the stiff old
sofa seemed performing 'Sir Roger de Coverley.' How we conducted ourselves
till five in the morning, let our cramps confess; for we were both
bed-ridden for ten days after. However, at last Mrs. Rogers gave in, and
reclining gracefully upon a window-seat, pronounced it a most elegant
party, and asked me to look for her shawl. While I perambulated the
staircase with her bonnet on my head, and more wearing apparel than would
stock a magazine, Shaugh was roaring himself hoarse in the street, calling
Mrs. Rogers' coach.

"'Sure, Captain,' said the lady, with a tender leer, 'it's only a chair.'

"'And here it is,' said I, surveying a very portly-looking old sedan, newly
painted and varnished, that blocked up half the hall.

"'You'll catch cold, my angel,' said Shaugh, in a whisper, for he was
coming it very strong by this; 'get into the chair. Maurice, can't you find
those fellows?' said he to me, for the chairmen had gone down-stairs, and
were making very merry among the servants.

"'She's fast now,' said I, shutting the door to. 'Let us do the gallant
thing, and carry her home ourselves.' Shaugh thought this a great notion;
and in a minute we mounted the poles and sallied forth, amidst a great
chorus of laughing from all the footmen, maids, and teaboys that filled the
passage.

"'The big house, with the bow-window and the pillars, Captain,' said a
fellow, as we issued upon our journey. "'I know it,' said I. 'Turn to the
left after you pass the square.'

"'Isn't she heavy?' said Shaugh, as he meandered across the narrow streets
with a sidelong motion that must have suggested to our fair inside
passenger some notions of a sea voyage. In truth, I must confess our
progress was rather a devious one,--now zig-zagging from side to side, now
getting into a sharp trot, and then suddenly pulling up at a dead stop, or
running the machine chuck against a wall, to enable us to stand still and
gain breath.

"'Which way now?' cried he, as we swung round the angle of a street and
entered the large market-place; 'I'm getting terribly tired.'

"'Never give in, Dan. Think of Clonakilty and the old lady herself.' Here
I gave the chair a hoist that evidently astonished our fair friend, for a
very imploring cry issued forth immediately after.

"'To the right, quick-step, forward, charge!' cried I; and we set off at a
brisk trot down a steep narrow lane.

"'Here it is now,--the light in the window. Cheer up.'

"As I said this we came short up to a fine, portly-looking doorway, with
great stone pillars and cornice.

"'Make yourself at home, Maurice,' said he; 'bring her in.' So saying,
we pushed forward--for the door was open--and passed boldly into a great
flagged hall, silent and cold, and dark as the night itself.

"'Are you sure we're right?' said he.

"'All right,' said I; 'go ahead.'

"And so we did, till we came in sight of a small candle that burned dimly
at a distance from us.

"'Make for the light,' said I; but just as I said so Shaugh slipped and
fell flat on the flagway. The noise of his fall sent up a hundred echoes
in the silent building, and terrified us both dreadfully. After a minute's
pause, by one consent we turned and made for the door, falling almost at
every step, and frightened out of our senses, we came tumbling together
into the porch, and out in the street, and never drew breath till we
reached the barracks. Meanwhile let me return to Mrs. Rogers. The dear
old lady, who had passed an awful time since she left the ball, had just
rallied out of a fainting fit when we took to our heels; so after screaming
and crying her best, she at last managed to open the top of the chair, and
by dint of great exertions succeeded in forcing the door, and at length
freed herself from bondage. She was leisurely groping her way round it
in the dark, when her lamentations, being heard without, woke up the old
sexton of the chapel,--for it was there we placed her,--who, entering
cautiously with a light, no sooner caught a glimpse of the great black
sedan and the figure beside it than he also took to his heels, and ran like
a madman to the priest's house.

"'Come, your reverence, come, for the love of marcy! Sure didn't I see him
myself! Oh, wirra, wirra!'

"'What is it, ye ould fool?' said M'Kenny.

"'It's Father Con Doran, your reverence, that was buried last week, and
there he is up now, coffin and all, saying a midnight Mass as lively as
ever.'

"Poor Mrs. Rogers, God help her! It was a trying sight for her when the
priest and the two coadjutors and three little boys and the sexton all came
in to lay her spirit; and the shock she received that night, they say, she
never got over.

"Need I say, my dear O'Mealey, that our acquaintance with Mrs. Rogers was
closed? The dear woman had a hard struggle for it afterwards. Her character
was assailed by all the elderly ladies in Loughrea for going off in our
company, and her blue satin, piped with scarlet, utterly ruined by a deluge
of holy water bestowed on her by the pious sexton. It was in vain that she
originated twenty different reports to mystify the world; and even ten
pounds spent in Masses for the eternal repose of Father Con Doran only
increased the laughter this unfortunate affair gave rise to. As for us, we
exchanged into the line, and foreign service took us out of the road of
duns, debts, and devilment, and we soon reformed, and eschewed such low
company."


The day was breaking ere we separated; and amidst the rich and fragrant
vapors that exhaled from the earth, the faint traces of sunlight dimly
stealing told of the morning. My two friends set out for Torrijos, and I
pushed boldly forward in the direction of the Alberche.

It was a strange thing that although but two days before the roads we were
then travelling had been the line of retreat of the whole French army, not
a vestige of their equipment nor a trace of their _materiel_ had been left
behind. In vain we searched each thicket by the wayside for some straggling
soldier, some wounded or wearied man; nothing of the kind was to be seen.
Except the deeply-rutted road, torn by the heavy wheels of the artillery,
and the white ashes of a wood fire, nothing marked their progress.

Our journey was a lonely one. Not a man was to be met with. The houses
stood untenanted; the doors lay open; no smoke wreathed from their deserted
hearths. The peasantry had taken to the mountains; and although the plains
were yellow with the ripe harvest, and the peaches hung temptingly upon the
trees, all was deserted and forsaken. I had often seen the blackened walls
and broken rafters, the traces of the wild revenge and reckless pillage of
a retiring army. The ruined castle and the desecrated altar are sad things
to look upon; but, somehow, a far heavier depression sunk into my heart
as my eye ranged over the wide valleys and broad hills, all redolent of
comfort, of beauty, and of happiness, and yet not one man to say, "This is
my home; these are my household gods." The birds carolled gayly in each
leafy thicket; the bright stream sung merrily as it rippled through the
rocks; the tall corn, gently stirred by the breeze, seemed to swell the
concert of sweet sounds; but no human voice awoke the echoes there. It
was as if the earth was speaking in thankfulness to its Maker, while
man,--ungrateful and unworthy man,--pursuing his ruthless path of
devastation and destruction, had left no being to say, "I thank Thee for
all these."

The day was closing as we drew near the Alberche, and came in sight of the
watch-fires of the enemy. Far as the eye could reach their column extended,
but in the dim twilight nothing could be seen with accuracy; yet from the
position their artillery occupied, and the unceasing din of baggage wagons
and heavy carriages towards the rear, I came to the conclusion that a still
farther retreat was meditated. A picket of light cavalry was posted upon
the river's bank, and seemed to watch with vigilance the approaches to the
stream.

Our bivouac was a dense copse of pine-trees, exactly opposite to the French
advanced posts, and there we passed the night,--fortunately a calm and
starlight one; for we dared not light fires, fearful of attracting
attention.

During the long hours I lay patiently watching the movements of the enemy
till the dark shadows hid all from sight; and even then, as my ears caught
the challenge of a sentry or the footsteps of some officer in his round,
my thoughts were riveted upon them, and a hundred vague fancies as to the
future were based upon no stronger foundation than the clink of a firelock
or the low-muttered song of a patrol.

Towards morning I slept; and when day broke my first glance was towards the
river-side. But the French were gone, noiselessly, rapidly. Like one man
that vast army had departed, and a dense column of dust towards the
horizon alone marked the long line of march where the martial legions were
retreating.

My mission was thus ended; and hastily partaking of the humble breakfast my
friend Mike provided for me, I once more set out and took the road towards
headquarters.




CHAPTER II.


THE SKIRMISH.

For several months after the battle of Talavera my life presented nothing
which I feel worth recording. Our good fortune seemed to have deserted us
when our hopes were highest; for from the day of that splendid victory we
began our retrograde movement upon Portugal. Pressed hard by overwhelming
masses of the enemy, we saw the fortresses of Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida
fall successively into their hands. The Spaniards were defeated wherever
they ventured upon a battle; and our own troops, thinned by sickness and
desertion, presented but a shadow of that brilliant army which only a few
months previous had followed the retiring French beyond the frontiers of
Portugal.

However willing I now am--and who is not--to recognize the genius and
foresight of that great man who then held the destinies of the Peninsula
within his hands, I confess at the time I speak of I could ill comprehend
and still less feel contented with the successive retreats our forces made;
and while the words Torres Vedras brought nothing to my mind but the last
resting-place before embarkation, the sad fortunes of Corunna were now
before me, and it was with a gloomy and desponding spirit I followed the
routine of my daily duty.

During these weary months, if my life was devoid of stirring interest or
adventure, it was not profitless. Constantly employed at the outposts,
I became thoroughly inured to all the roughing of a soldier's life, and
learned in the best of schools that tacit obedience which alone can form
the subordinate or ultimately fit its possessor for command himself.

Humble and unobtrusive as such a career must ever be, it was not without
its occasional rewards. From General Crawfurd I more than once obtained
most kind mention in his despatches, and felt that I was not unknown or
unnoticed by Sir Arthur Wellesley himself. At that time these testimonies,
slight and passing as they were, contributed to the pride and glory of my
existence; and even now--shall I confess it?--when some gray hairs are
mingling with the brown, and when my old dragoon swagger is taming down
into a kind of half-pay shamble, I feel my heart warm at the recollection
of them.

Be it so; I care not who smiles at the avowal. I know of little better
worth remembering as we grow old than what pleased us while we were young.
With the memory of the kind words once spoken come back the still kinder
looks of those who spoke them, and better than all, that early feeling of
budding manhood, when there was neither fear nor distrust. Alas! these are
the things, and not weak eyes and tottering limbs, which form the burden of
old age. Oh, if we could only go on believing, go on trusting, go on hoping
to the last, who would shed tears for the bygone feats of his youthful
days, when the spirit that evoked them lived young and vivid as before?

But to my story. While Ciudad Rodrigo still held out against the besieging
French,--its battered walls and breached ramparts sadly foretelling the
fate inevitably impending,--we were ordered, together with the 16th Light
Dragoons, to proceed to Gallegos, to reinforce Crawfurd's division, then
forming a corps of observation upon Massena's movements.

The position he occupied was a most commanding one,--the crown of a long
mountain ridge, studded with pine-copse and cork-trees, presenting every
facility for light-infantry movements; and here and there gently sloping
towards the plain, offering a field for cavalry manoeuvres. Beneath, in
the vast plain, were encamped the dark legions of France, their heavy
siege-artillery planted against the doomed fortress, while clouds of their
cavalry caracoled proudly before us, as if in taunting sarcasm at our
inactivity.

Every artifice which his natural cunning could suggest, every taunt a
Frenchman's vocabulary contains, had been used by Massena to induce Sir
Arthur Wellesley to come to the assistance of the beleagured fortress:
but in vain. In vain he relaxed the energy of the siege, and affected
carelessness. In vain he asserted that the English were either afraid or
else traitors to their allies. The mind of him he thus assailed was neither
accessible to menace nor to sarcasm. Patiently abiding his time, he watched
the progress of events, and provided for that future which was to crown his
country's arms with success and himself with undying glory.

Of a far different mettle was the general formed under whose orders we were
now placed. Hot, passionate, and impetuous, relying upon bold and headlong
heroism rather than upon cool judgment and well-matured plans, Crawfurd
felt in war all the asperity and bitterness of a personal conflict. Ill
brooking the insulting tone of the wily Frenchman, he thirsted for any
occasion of a battle, and his proud spirit chafed against the colder
counsels of his superior.

On the very morning we joined, the pickets brought in the intelligence that
the French patrols were nightly in the habit of visiting the villages at
the outposts and committing every species of cruel indignity upon the
wretched inhabitants. Fired at this daring insult, our general resolved to
cut them off, and formed two ambuscades for the purpose.

Six squadrons of the 14th were despatched to Villa del Puerco, three of
the 16th to Baguetto, while some companies of the 95th, and the cacadores,
supported by artillery, were ordered to hold themselves in reserve, for the
enemy were in force at no great distance from us.

The morning was just breaking as an aide-de-camp galloped up with the
intelligence that the French had been seen near the Villa del Puerco, a
body of infantry and some cavalry having crossed the plain, and disappeared
in that direction. While our colonel was forming us, with the intention of
getting between them and their main body, the tramp of horses was heard in
the wood behind, and in a few moments two officers rode up. The foremost,
who was a short, stoutly-built man of about forty, with a bronzed face and
eye of piercing black, shouted out as we wheeled into column:--

"Halt, there! Why, where the devil are you going? That's your ground!" So
saying, and pointing straight towards the village with his hand, he would
not listen to our colonel's explanation that several stone fences and
enclosures would interfere with cavalry movements, but added, "Forward, I
say! Proceed!"

Unfortunately, the nature of the ground separated our squadron, as the
colonel anticipated; and although we came on at a topping pace, the French
had time to form in square upon a hill to await us, and when we charged,
they stood firmly, and firing with a low and steady aim, several of our
troopers fell. As we wheeled round, we found ourselves exactly in front
of their cavalry coming out of Baguilles; so dashing straight at them,
we revenged ourselves for our first repulse by capturing twenty-nine
prisoners, and wounding several others.

The French infantry were, however, still unbroken; and Colonel Talbot rode
boldly up with five squadrons of the 14th; but the charge, pressed home
with all its gallantry, failed also, and the colonel fell mortally wounded,
and fourteen of his troopers around him. Twice we rode round the square,
seeking for a weak point, but in vain; the gallant Frenchman who commanded,
Captain Guache, stood fearlessly amidst his brave followers, and we could
hear him, as he called out from time to time,--

"_C'est ca mes enfans! Tres bien fait, mes braves!_"

And at length they made good their retreat, while we returned to the camp,
leaving thirty-two troopers and our brave colonel dead upon the field in
this disastrous affair.


The repulse we had met with, so contrary to all our hopes and expectations,
made that a most gloomy day to all of us. The brave fellows we had left
behind us, the taunting cheer of the French infantry, the unbroken ranks
against which we rode time after time in vain, never left our minds; and a
sense of shame of what might be thought of us at headquarters rendered the
reflection still more painful.

Our bivouac, notwithstanding all our efforts, was a sad one, and when the
moon rose, some drops of heavy rain falling at intervals in the still,
unruffled air threatened a night of storm; gradually the sky grew darker
and darker, the clouds hung nearer to the earth, and a dense, thick mass
of dark mist shrouded every object. The heavy cannonade of the siege was
stilled; nothing betrayed that a vast army was encamped near us; their
bivouac fires were even imperceptible; and the only sound we heard was the
great bell of Ciudad Rodrigo as it struck the hour, and seemed, in the
mournful cadence of its chime, like the knell of the doomed citadel.

The patrol which I commanded had to visit on its rounds the most advanced
post of our position. This was a small farm-house, which, standing upon a
little rising ledge of ground, was separated from the French lines by a
little stream tributary to the Aguda. A party of the 14th were picketed
here, and beneath them in the valley, scarce five hundred yards distant,
was the detachment of cuirassiers which formed the French outpost. As we
neared our picket the deep voice of the sentry challenged us; and while
all else was silent as the grave, we could hear from the opposite side
the merry chorus of a French _chanson a boire_, with its clattering
accompaniment of glasses, as some gay companions were making merry
together.

Within the little hut which contained _our_ fellows, the scene was a
different one. The three officers who commanded sat moodily over a wretched
fire of wet wood; a solitary candle dimly lighted the dismantled room,
where a table but ill-supplied with cheer stood unminded and uncared for.

"Well, O'Malley," cried Baker, as I came in, "what is the night about? And
what's Crawfurd for next?"

"We hear," cried another, "that he means to give battle to-morrow; but
surely Sir Arthur's orders are positive enough. Gordon himself told me
that he was forbidden to fight beyond the Coa, but to retreat at the first
advance of the enemy."

"I'm afraid," replied I, "that retreating is his last thought just now.
Ammunition has just been served out, and I know the horse artillery have
orders to be in readiness by daybreak."

"All right," said Hampden, with a half-bitter tone. "Nothing like going
through with it. If he is to be brought to court-martial for disobedience,
he'll take good care we sha'n't be there to see it."

"Why, the French are fifty thousand strong!" said Baker. "Look there, what
does that mean, now? That's a signal from the town."

As he spoke a rocket of great brilliancy shot up into the sky, and bursting
at length fell in millions of red lustrous sparks on every side, showing
forth the tall fortress, and the encamped army around it, with all the
clearness of noonday. It was a most splendid sight; and though the next
moment all was dark as before, we gazed still fixedly into the gloomy
distance, straining our eyes to observe what was hid from our view forever.

"That must be a signal," repeated Baker.

"Begad! if Crawfurd sees it he'll interpret it as a reason for fighting. I
trust he's asleep by this time," said Hampden. "By-the-bye, O'Malley, did
you see the fellows at work in the trenches? How beautifully clear it was
towards the southward!"

"Yes, I remarked that! and what surprised me was the openness of their
position in that direction. Towards the San Benito mole I could not see a
man."

"Ah, they'll not attack on that side; but if we really are--"

"Stay, Hampden!" said I, interrupting him, "a thought has just struck me.
At sunset, I saw, through my telescope, the French engineers marking with
their white tape the line of a new entrenchment in that quarter. Would it
not be a glorious thing to move the tape, and bring the fellows under the
fire of San Benito?"

"By Jove, O'Malley, that is a thought worth a troop to you!"

"Far more likely to forward his promotion in the next world than in this,"
said Baker, smiling.

"By no means," added I. "I marked the ground this evening, and have it
perfectly in my mind. If we were to follow the bend of the river, I'll be
bound to come right upon the spot; by nearing the fortress we'll escape the
sentries; and all this portion is open to us."

The project thus loosely thrown out was now discussed in all its bearings.
Whatever difficulties it presented were combated so much to our own
satisfaction, that at last its very facility damped our ardor. Meanwhile
the night wore on, and the storm of rain so long impending began to descend
in very torrents; hissing along the parched ground, it rose in a mist,
while overhead the heavy thunder rolled in long unbroken peals; the crazy
door threatened to give way at each moment, and the whole building trembled
to its foundation.

"Pass the brandy down here, Hampden, and thank your stars you're where you
are. Eh, O'Malley? You'll defer your trip to San Benito for finer weather."

"Well, to come to the point," said Hampden, "I'd rather begin my
engineering at a more favorable season; but if O'Malley's for it--"

"And O'Malley _is_ for it," said I, suddenly.

"Then faith, I'm not the man to balk his fancy; and as Crawfurd is so bent
upon fighting to-morrow, it don't make much difference. Is it a bargain?"

"It is; here's my hand on it."

"Come, come, boys, I'll have none of this; we've been prettily cut up this
morning already. You shall not go upon this foolish excursion."

"Confound it, old fellow! it's all very well for you to talk, with the
majority before you, next step; but here we are, if peace came to-morrow,
scarcely better than we left England. No, no; if O'Malley's ready--and I
see he is so before me--What have you got there? Oh, I see; that's our tape
line; capital fun, by George! The worst of it is, they'll make us colonels
of engineers. Now then, what's your plan--on foot or mounted?"

"Mounted, and for this reason, the country is all open; if we are to have a
run for it, our thoroughbreds ought to distance them; and as we must expect
to pass some of their sentries, our only chance is on horseback."

"My mind is relieved of a great load," said Hampden; "I was trembling in my
skin lest you should make it a walking party. I'll do anything you like in
the saddle, from robbing the mail to cutting out a frigate; but I never was
much of a foot-pad."

"Well, Mike," said I, as I returned to the room with my trusty follower,
"are the cattle to be depended on?"

"If we had a snaffle in Malachi Daly's mouth [my brown horse], I'd be
afeared of nothing, sir; but if it comes to fencing, with that cruel
bit,--but sure, you've a light hand, and let him have his head, if it's
wall."

"By Jove, he thinks it a fox-chase!" said Hampden.

"Isn't it the same, sir?" said Mike, with a seriousness that made the whole
party smile.

"Well, I hope we shall not be earthed, any way," said I. "Now, the next
thing is, who has a lantern? Ah! the very thing; nothing better. Look to
your pistols, Hampden; and Mike, here's a glass of grog for you; we'll want
you. And now, one bumper for good luck. Eh, Baker, won't you pledge us?"

"And spare a little for me," said Hampden. "How it does rain! If one didn't
expect to be water-proofed before morning, one really wouldn't go out in
such weather."

While I busied myself in arranging my few preparations, Hampden proceeded
gravely to inform Mike that we were going to the assistance of the besieged
fortress, which could not possibly go on without us.

"Tare and ages!" said Mike, "that's mighty quare; and the blue rocket was a
letter of invitation, I suppose?"

"Exactly," said Hampden; "and you see there's no ceremony between us. We'll
just drop in, in the evening, in a friendly way."

"Well, then, upon my conscience, I'd wait, if I was you, till the family
wasn't in confusion. They have enough on their hands just now."

"So you'll not be persuaded?" said Baker. "Well, I frankly tell you, that
come what will of it, as your senior officer I'll report you to-morrow.
I'll not risk myself for any such hair-brained expeditions."

"A mighty pleasant look-out for me," said Mike; "if I'm not shot to-night,
I may be flogged in the morning."

This speech once more threw us into a hearty fit of laughter, amidst which
we took leave of our friends, and set forth upon our way.




CHAPTER III.


THE LINES OF CIUDAD RODRIGO.

The small, twinkling lights which shone from the ramparts of Ciudad Rodrigo
were our only guide, as we issued forth upon our perilous expedition. The
storm raged, if possible, even more violently than before, and gusts of
wind swept along the ground with the force of a hurricane; so that at
first, our horses could scarcely face the tempest. Our path lay along the
little stream for a considerable way; after which, fording the rivulet, we
entered upon the open plain, taking care to avoid the French outpost on the
extreme left, which was marked by a bivouac fire, burning under the heavy
downpour of rain, and looking larger through the dim atmosphere around it.

I rode foremost, followed closely by Hampden and Mike; not a word was
spoken after we crossed the stream. Our plan was, if challenged by a
patrol, to reply in French and press on; so small a party could never
suggest the idea of attack, and we hoped in this manner to escape.

The violence of the storm was such that many of our precautions as to
silence were quite unnecessary; and we had advanced to a considerable
extent into the plain before any appearance of the encampment struck us.
At length, on mounting a little rising ground, we perceived several fires
stretching far away to the northward; while still to our left, there blazed
one larger and brighter than the others. We now found that we had not
outflanked their position as we intended, and learning from the situation
of the fires, that we were still only at the outposts, we pressed sharply
forward, directing our course by the twin stars that shone from the
fortress.

"How heavy the ground is here!" whispered Hampden, as our horses sunk above
the fetlocks. "We had better stretch away to the right; the rise of the
hill will favor us."

"Hark!" said I; "did you not hear something? Pull up,--silence now. Yes,
there they come. It's a patrol; I hear their tramp." As I spoke, the
measured tread of infantry was heard above the storm, and soon after a
lantern was seen coming along the causeway near us. The column passed
within a few yards of where we stood. I could even recognize the black
covering of the shakos as the light fell on them. "Let us follow them,"
whispered I; and the next moment we fell in upon their track, holding our
cattle well in hand, and ready to start at a moment.

"_Qui va la?_" a sentry demanded.

"_La deuxieme division_," cried a hoarse voice.

"_Halte la! la consigne?_"

"_Wagram!_" repeated the same voice as before, while his party resumed
their march; and the next moment the patrol was again upon his post, silent
and motionless as before.

"_En avant, Messieurs!_" said I, aloud, as soon as the infantry had
proceeded some distance,--"_en avant!_"

"_Qui va la?_" demanded the sentry, as we came along at a sharp trot.

"_L'etat-major, Wagram!_" responded I, pressing on without drawing rein;
and in a moment we had regained our former position behind the infantry. We
had scarcely time to congratulate ourselves upon the success of our scheme,
when a tremendous clattering noise in front, mingled with the galloping of
horses and the cracking of whips, announced the approach of the artillery
as they came along by a narrow road which bisected our path; and as they
passed between us and the column, we could hear the muttered sentences of
the drivers, cursing the unseasonable time for an attack, and swearing at
their cattle in no measured tones.

"Did you hear that?" whispered Hampden; "the battery is about to be
directed against the San Benito, which must be far away to the left.
I heard one of the troop saying that they were to open their fire at
daybreak."

"All right, now," said I; "look there!"

From the hill we now stood upon a range of lanterns was distinctly visible,
stretching away for nearly half a mile.

"There are the trenches; they must be at work, too. See how the lights are
moving from place to place! Straight now. Forward!"

So saying, I pressed my horse boldly on.

We had not proceeded many minutes when the sounds of galloping were heard
coming along behind us.

"To the right, in the hollow," cried I. "Be still."

Scarcely had we moved off when several horsemen galloped up, and drawing
their reins to breathe their horses up the hill, we could hear their voices
as they conversed together.

In the few broken words we could catch, we guessed that the attack upon San
Benito was only a feint to induce Crawfurd to hold his position, while
the French, marching upon his flank and front, were to attack him with
overwhelming masses and crush him.

"You hear what's in store for us, O'Malley?" whispered Hampden. "I think we
could not possibly do better than hasten back with the intelligence."

"We must not forget what we came for, first," said I; and the next moment
we were following the horsemen, who from their helmets seemed to be
horse-artillery officers.

The pace our guides rode at showed us that they knew their ground. We
passed several sentries, muttering something at each time, and seeming as
if only anxious to keep up with our party.

"They've halted," said I. "Now to the left there; gently here, for we must
be in the midst of their lines. Ha! I knew we were right. See there!"

Before us, now, at a few hundred yards, we could perceive a number of men
engaged upon the field. Lights were moving from place to place rapidly,
while immediately in front a strong picket of cavalry were halted.

"By Jove! there's sharp work of it to-night," whispered Hampden. "They do
intend to surprise us to-morrow."

"Gently now, to the left," said I, as cautiously skirting the little hill,
I kept my eye firmly fixed upon the watch-fire.

The storm, which for some time had abated considerably, was now nearly
quelled, and the moon again peeped forth amidst masses of black and watery
clouds.

"What good fortune for us!" thought I, at this moment, as I surveyed the
plain before me.

"I say, O'Malley, what are those fellows at yonder, where the blue light is
burning?"

"Ah! the very people we want; these are the sappers. Now for it; that's our
ground. We'll soon come upon their track now."

We pressed rapidly forward, passing an infantry party as we went. The blue
light was scarcely a hundred yards off; we could even hear the shouting of
the officers to their men in the trenches, when suddenly my horse came down
upon his head, and rolling over, crushed me to the earth.

"Not hurt, my boy," cried I, in a subdued tone, as Hampden jumped down
beside me.

It was the angle of a trench I had fallen into; and though both my horse
and myself felt stunned for the moment, we rallied the next minute.

"Here is the very spot," said I. "Now, Mike, catch the bridles and follow
us closely."

Guiding ourselves along the edge of the trench, we crept stealthily
forward; the only watch-fire near was where the engineer party was halted,
and our object was to get outside of this.

"My turn this time," said Hampden, as he tripped suddenly, and fell head
foremost upon the grass.

As I assisted him to rise, something caught my ankle, and on stooping I
found it was a cord pegged fast into the ground, and lying only a few
inches above it.

"Now, steady! See here; this is their working line. Pass your hand along it
there, and let us follow it out."

While Hampden accordingly crept along on one side, I tracked the cord upon
the other. Here I found it terminating upon a small mound, where probably
some battery was to be erected. I accordingly gathered it carefully up, and
was returning towards my friend, when what was my horror to hear Mike's
voice, conversing, as it seemed to me, with some one in French.

I stood fixed to the spot, my very heart beating almost in my mouth as I
listened.

"_Qui etes-vous done, mon ami?_" inquired a hoarse, deep voice, a few yards
off.

"_Bon cheval, non_ beast, _sacre nom de Dieu!_" A hearty burst of laughter
prevented my hearing the conclusion of Mike's French.

I now crept forward upon my hands and knees, till I could catch the dark
outline of the horses, one hand fixed upon my pistol trigger, and my sword
drawn in the other. Meanwhile the dialogue continued.

"_Vous etes d'Alsace, n'est-ce-pas?_" asked the Frenchman, kindly supposing
that Mike's French savored of Strasburg.

"Oh, blessed Virgin! av I might shoot him," was the muttered reply.

Before I had time to see the effect of the last speech, I pressed forward
with a bold spring, and felled the Frenchman to the earth. My hand had
scarcely pressed upon his mouth, when Hampden was beside me. Snatching up
the pistol I let fall, he held it to the man's chest and commanded him to
be silent. To unfasten his girdle and bind the Frenchman's hands behind
him, was the work of a moment; and as the sharp click of the pistol-cock
seemed to calm his efforts to escape, we soon succeeded in fastening a
handkerchief tight across his mouth, and the next minute he was placed
behind Mike's saddle, firmly attached to this worthy individual by his
sword-belt.

"Now, a clear run home for it, and a fair start," said Hampden, as he
sprang into the saddle.

"Now, then, for it," I replied, as turning my horse's head towards our
lines, I dashed madly forward.

The moon was again obscured, but still the dark outline of the hill which
formed our encampment was discernible on the horizon. Riding side by side,
on we hurried,--now splashing through the deep wet marshes, now plunging
through small streams. Our horses were high in mettle, and we spared them
not. By taking a wide _detour_ we had outflanked the French pickets, and
were almost out of all risk, when suddenly on coming to the verge of rather
a steep hill, we perceived beneath us a strong cavalry picket standing
around a watch-fire; their horses were ready saddled, the men accoutred,
and quite prepared for the field. While we conversed together in whispers
as to the course to follow, our deliberations were very rapidly cut short.
The French prisoner, who hitherto had given neither trouble nor resistance,
had managed to free his mouth from the encumbrance of the handkerchief; and
as we stood quietly discussing our plans, with one tremendous effort he
endeavored to hurl himself and Mike from the saddle, shouting out as he did
so,--

"_A moi camarades! a moi!_"

Hampden's pistol leaped from the holster as he spoke, and levelling it with
a deadly aim, he pulled the trigger; but I threw up his arm, and the ball
passed high above his head. To have killed the Frenchman would have been to
lose my faithful follower, who struggled manfully with his adversary, and
at length by throwing himself flatly forward upon the mane of his horse,
completely disabled him. Meanwhile the picket had sprung to their saddles,
and looked wildly about on every side.

Not a moment was to be lost; so turning our horses' heads towards the
plain, away we went. One loud cheer announced to us that we had been seen,
and the next instant the clash of the pursuing cavalry was heard behind us.
It was now entirely a question of speed, and little need we have feared
had Mike's horse not been doubly weighted. However, as we still had
considerably the start, and the gray dawn of day enabled us to see the
ground, the odds were in our favor. "Never let your horse's head go," was
my often repeated direction to Mike, as he spurred with all the desperation
of madness. Already the low meadow-land was in sight which flanked the
stream we had crossed in the morning, but unfortunately the heavy rains had
swollen it now to a considerable depth, and the muddy current, choked with
branches of trees and great stones, was hurrying down like a torrent. "Take
the river! never flinch it!" was my cry to my companions, as I turned my
head and saw a French dragoon, followed by two others, gaining rapidly upon
us. As I spoke, Mike dashed in, followed by Hampden, and the same moment
the sharp ring of a carbine whizzed past me. To take off the pursuit from
the others, I now wheeled my horse suddenly round, as if I feared to take
the stream, and dashed along by the river's bank.

[Illustration: A FLYING SHOT.]

Beneath me in the foaming current the two horsemen labored,--now stemming
the rush of water, now reeling almost beneath. A sharp cry burst from Mike
as I looked, and I saw the poor fellow bend nearly to his saddle. I could
see no more, for the chase was now hot upon myself. Behind me rode a French
dragoon, his carbine pressed tightly to his side, ready to fire as he
pressed on in pursuit. I had but one chance; so drawing my pistol I wheeled
suddenly in my saddle, and fired straight at him. The Frenchman fell, while
a regular volley from his party rung around me, one ball striking my horse,
and another lodging in the pommel of my saddle. The noble animal reeled
nearly to the earth, but as if rallying for a last effort, sprang forward
with renewed energy, and plunged boldly into the river. For a moment,
so sudden was my leap, my pursuers lost sight of me; but the bank being
somewhat steep, the efforts of my horse to climb again discovered me, and
before I reached the field two pistol-balls took effect upon me,--one
slightly grazed my side, but my bridle-arm was broken by the other, and
my hand fell motionless to my side. A cheer of defiance was, however, my
reply, as I turned round in my saddle, and the next moment I was far beyond
the range of their fire.

Not a man durst follow, and the last sight I had of them was the dismounted
group who stood around their dead comrade. Before me rode Hampden and Mike,
still at top speed, and never turning their heads backwards. I hastened
after them; but my poor, wounded horse, nearly hamstrung by the shot,
became dead lame, and it was past daybreak ere I reached the first outposts
of our lines.




CHAPTER IV.


THE DOCTOR.

"And his wound? Is it a serious one?" said a round, full voice, as the
doctor left my room at the conclusion of his visit.

"No, sir; a fractured bone is the worst of it,--the bullet grazed, but did
not cut the artery, and as--"

"Well, how soon will he be about again?"

"In a few weeks, if no fever sets in."

"There's no objection to my seeing him?--a few minutes only,--I'll be
cautious." So saying, and as it seemed to me, without waiting for a reply,
the door was opened by an aide-de-camp, who, announcing General Crawfurd,
closed it again, and withdrew.

The first glance I threw upon the general enabled me to recognize the
officer who, on the previous morning, had ridden up to the picket and given
us the orders to charge. I essayed to rise a little as he came forward; but
he motioned me with his hand to lie still, while, placing a chair close
beside my bed, he sat down.

"Very sorry for your mishap, sir, but glad it is no worse. Moreton says
that nothing of consequence is injured; there, you mustn't speak except I
ask you. Hampden has told me everything necessary; at least as far as he
knew. Is it your opinion, also, that any movement is in contemplation; and
from what circumstance?"

I immediately explained, and as briefly as I was able, the reasons for
suspecting such, with which he seemed quite satisfied. I detailed the
various changes in the positions of the troops that were taking place
during the night, the march of the artillery, and the strong bodies of
cavalry that were posted in reserve along the river.

"Very well, sir; they'll not move; your prisoner, quartermaster of an
infantry battalion, says not, also. Yours was a bold stroke, but could not
possibly have been of service, and the best thing I can do for you is not
to mention it,--a court-martial's but a poor recompense for a gun-shot
wound. Meanwhile, when this blows over, I'll appoint you on my personal
staff. There, not a word, I beg; and now, good-by."

So saying, and waving me an adieu with his hand, the gallant veteran
withdrew before I could express my gratitude for his kindness.

I had little time for reflecting over my past adventure, such numbers of my
brother officers poured in upon me. All the doctor's cautions respecting
quietness and rest were disregarded, and a perfect levee sat the entire
morning in my bed-room. I was delighted to learn that Mike's wound, though
painful at the moment, was of no consequence; and indeed Hampden, who
escaped both steel and shot, was the worst off among us,--his plunge in the
river having brought on an ague he had labored under years before.

"The illustrious Maurice has been twice here this morning, but they
wouldn't admit him. Your Scotch physician is afraid of his Irish
_confrere_, and they had a rare set-to about Galen and Hippocrates
outside," said Baker.

"By-the-bye," said another, "did you see how Sparks looked when Quill
joined us? Egad, I never saw a fellow in such a fright; he reddened up,
then grew pale, turned his back, and slunk away at the very first moment."

"Yes, I remember it. We must find out the reason; for Maurice, depend upon
it, has been hoaxing the poor fellow."

"Well, O'Malley," growled out the senior major, "you certainly did give
Hampden a benefit. He'll not trust himself in such company again; and
begad, he says, the man is as bad as the master. That fellow of yours never
let go his prisoner till he reached the quartermaster-general, and they
were both bathed in blood by that time."

"Poor Mike! we must do something for him."

"Oh, he's as happy as a king! Maurice has been in to see him, and they've
had a long chat about Ireland, and all the national pastimes of whiskey
drinking and smashing skulls. My very temples ache at the recollection."

"Is Mister O'Mealey at home?" said a very rich Cork accent, as the
well-known and most droll features of Dr. Maurice Quill appeared at the
door.

"Come in, Maurice," said the major; "and for Heaven's sake, behave
properly. The poor fellow must not have a row about his bedside."

"A row, a row! Upon my conscience, it is little you know about a row, and
there's worse things going than a row. Which leg is it?"

"It's an arm, Doctor, I'm happy to say."

"Not your punch hand, I hope. No; all's right. A neat fellow you have for
a servant, that Mickey Free. I was asking him about a townsman of his
own--one Tim Delany,--the very cut of himself, the best servant I ever had.
I never could make out what became of him. Old Hobson of the 95th, gave
him to me, saying, 'There he is for you, Maurice, and a bigger thief and a
greater blackguard there's not in the 60th.'

"'Strong words,' said I.

"'And true' said he; 'he'd steal your molar tooth while you were laughing
at him.'

"'Let me have him, and try my hand on him, anyway. I've got no one just
now. Anything is better than nothing.'

"Well I took Tim, and sending for him to my room I locked the door, and
sitting down gravely before him explained in a few words that I was quite
aware of his little propensities.

"'Now,' said I, 'if you like to behave well, I'll think you as honest as
the chief-justice; but if I catch you stealing, if it be only the value of
a brass snuff-box, I'll have you flogged before the regiment as sure as my
name's Maurice.'

"Oh, I wish you heard the volley of protestations that fell from him fast
as hail. He was a calumniated man the world conspired to wrong him; he was
never a thief nor a rogue in his life. He had a weakness, he confessed, for
the ladies; but except that, he hoped he might die so thin that he could
shave himself with his shin-bone if he ever so much as took a pinch of salt
that wasn't his own.

"However this might be, nothing could be better than the way Tim and I got
on together. Everything was in its place, nothing missing; and in fact, for
upwards of a year, I went on wondering when he was to show out in his true
colors, for hitherto he had been a phoenix.

"At last,--we were quartered in Limerick at the time,--every morning used
to bring accounts of all manner of petty thefts in the barrack,--one fellow
had lost his belt, another his shoes, a third had three-and-sixpence in
his pocket when he went to bed and woke without a farthing, and so on.
Everybody save myself was mulet of something. At length some rumors of
Tim's former propensities got abroad; suspicion was excited; my friend
Delany was rigidly watched, and some very dubious circumstances attached to
the way he spent his evenings.

"My brother officers called upon me about the matter, and although nothing
had transpired like proof, I sent for Tim, and opened my mind on the
subject.

"You may talk of the look of conscious innocence, but I defy you to
conceive anything finer than the stare of offended honor Tim gave me as I
began.

"'They say it's me, Doctor,' said he, 'do they? And you,--you believe them.
You allow them to revile me that way? Well, well, the world is come to a
pretty pass, anyhow! Now, let me ask your honor a few questions? How many
shirts had yourself when I entered your service? Two, and one was more like
a fishing net! And how many have ye now? Eighteen; ay, eighteen bran new
cambrie ones,--devil a hole in one of them! How many pair of stockings had
you? Three and an odd one. You have two dozen this minute. How many pocket
handkerchiefs? One,--devil a more! You could only blow your nose two days
in the week, and now you may every hour of the twenty-four! And as to
the trilling articles of small value, snuff-boxes, gloves, bootjacks,
nightcaps, and--'

"'Stop, Tim, that's enough--'

"'No, sir, it is not,' said Tim, drawing himself up to his full height;
'you have wounded my feelings in a way I can't forget. It is impossible
we can have that mutual respect our position demands. Farewell, farewell,
Doctor, and forever!'

"Before I could say another word, the fellow had left the room, and closed
the door after him; and from that hour to this I never set eyes on him."

In this vein did the worthy doctor run on till some more discreet friend
suggested that however well-intentioned the visit, I did not seem to be
fully equal to it,--my flushed cheek and anxious eye betraying that the
fever of my wound had commenced. They left me, therefore, once more alone,
and to my solitary musings over the vicissitudes of my fortune.




CHAPTER V.


THE COA.

Within a week from the occurrence of the events just mentioned, Ciudad
Rodrigo surrendered, and Crawfurd assumed another position beneath the
walls of Almeida. The Spanish contingent having left us, we were reinforced
by the arrival of two battalions, renewed orders being sent not to risk a
battle, but if the French should advance, to retire beyond the Coa.

On the evening of the 21st of July a strong body of French cavalry advanced
into the plain, supported by some heavy guns; upon which Crawfurd retired
upon the Coa, intending, as we supposed, to place that river between
himself and the enemy. Three days, however, passed over without any
movement upon either side, and we still continued, with a force of scarcely
four thousand infantry and a thousand dragoons, to stand opposite to an
army of nearly fifty thousand men. Such was our position as the night of
the 24th set in. I was sitting alone in my quarters. Mike, whose wound had
been severer than at first was supposed, had been sent to Almeida, and I
was musing in solitude upon the events of the campaign, when the noise and
bustle without excited my attention,--the roll of artillery wagons, the
clash of musketry, and the distant sounds of marching, all proved that the
troops were effecting some new movement, and I burned with anxiety to
learn what it was. My brother officers, however, came not as usual to my
quarters; and although I waited with impatience while the hours rolled by,
no one appeared.

Long, low moaning gusts of wind swept along the earth, carrying the leaves
as they tore them from the trees, and mingling their sad sounds with the
noises of the retiring troops; for I could perceive that gradually the
sounds grew more and more remote, and only now and then could I trace their
position as the roll of a distant drum swelled upon the breeze, or the
more shrill cry of a pibroch broke upon my ear. A heavy downpour of rain
followed soon after, and in its unceasing plash drowned all other sounds.

As the little building shook beneath the peals of loud thunder, the
lightning flashed in broad sheets upon the rapid river, which, swollen and
foaming, dashed impetuously beside my window. By the uncertain but vivid
glare of the flashes, I endeavored to ascertain where our force was posted,
but in vain. Never did I witness such a night of storm,--the deep booming
of the thunder seeming never for a moment to cease, while the rush of the
torrent grew gradually louder, till at length it swelled into one deep and
sullen roar like that of distant artillery.

Weak and nervous as I felt from the effects of my wound, feverish and
exhausted by days of suffering and sleepless nights, I paced my little room
with tottering but impatient steps. The sense of my sad and imprisoned
state impressed me deeply; and while from time to time I replenished my
fire, and hoped to hear some friendly step upon the stair, my heart grew
gradually heavier, and every gloomy and depressing thought suggested itself
to my imagination. My most constant impression was that the troops were
retiring beyond the Coa, and that, forgotten in the haste and confusion of
a night march, I had been left behind to fall a prisoner to the enemy.

The sounds of the troops retiring gradually farther and farther favored the
idea, in which I was still more strengthened on finding that the peasants
who inhabited the little hut had departed, leaving me utterly alone. From
the moment I ascertained this fact, my impatience knew no bounds; and in
proportion as I began to feel some exertion necessary on my part, so much
more did my nervousness increase my debility, and at last I sank exhausted
upon my bed, while a cold perspiration broke out upon my temples.

I have mentioned that the Coa was immediately beneath the house; I must
also add that the little building occupied the angle of a steep but narrow
gorge which descended from the plain to the bridge across the stream. This,
as far as I knew, was the only means we possessed of passing the river; so
that, when the last retiring sounds of the troops were heard by me, I began
to suspect that Crawfurd, in compliance with his orders, was making a
backward movement, leaving the bridge open to the French, to draw them
on to his line of march, while he should cross over at some more distant
point.

As the night grew later, the storm seemed to increase; the waves of the
foaming river dashed against the frail walls of the hut, while its roof,
rent by the blast, fell in fragments upon the stream, and all threatened a
speedy and perfect ruin.

How I longed for morning! The doubt and uncertainty I suffered nearly drove
me distracted. Of all the casualties my career as a soldier opened, none
had such terrors for me as imprisonment; the very thought of the long years
of inaction and inglorious idleness was worse than any death. My wounds,
and the state of fever I was in, increased the morbid dread upon me, and
had the French captured me at the time, I know not that madness of which
I was not capable. Day broke at last, but slowly and sullenly; the gray
clouds hurried past upon the storm, pouring down the rain in torrents as
they went, and the desolation and dreariness on all sides was scarcely
preferable to the darkness and gloom of night. My eyes were turned ever
towards the plain, across which the winter wind bore the plashing rain in
vast sheets of water; the thunder crashed louder and louder; but except the
sounds of the storm none others met my ear. Not a man, not a human figure
could I see, as I strained my sight towards the distant horizon.

The morning crept over, but the storm abated not, and the same unchanged
aspect of dreary desolation prevailed without. At times I thought I could
hear, amidst the noises of the tempest, something like the roll of distant
artillery; but the thunder swelled in sullen roar above all, and left me
uncertain as before.

At last, in a momentary pause of the storm, a tremendous peal of heavy
guns caught my ear, followed by the long rattling of small-arms. My heart
bounded with ecstasy. The thoughts of the battle-field, with all its
changing fortunes, was better, a thousand times better, than the despairing
sense of desertion I labored under. I listened now with eagerness, but
the rain bore down again in torrents, and the crumbling walls and falling
timbers left no other sounds to be heard. Far as my eye could reach,
nothing could still be seen save the dreary monotony of the vast plain,
undulating slightly here and there, but unmarked by a sign of man.

Far away towards the horizon I had remarked for some time past that the
clouds resting upon the earth grew blacker and blacker, spreading out to
either side in vast masses, and not broken or wafted along like the rest.
As I watched the phenomenon with an anxious eye, I perceived the dense mass
suddenly appear, as it were, rent asunder, while a volume of liquid flame
rushed wildly out, throwing a lurid glare on every side. One terrific clap,
louder than any thunder, shook the air at this moment, while the very earth
trembled beneath the shock.

As I hesitated what it might be, the heavy din of great guns again was
heard, and from the midst of the black smoke rode forth a dark mass,
which I soon recognized as the horse-artillery at full gallop. They were
directing their course towards the bridge.

As they mounted the little rising ground, they wheeled and unlimbered with
the speed of lightning, just as a strong column of cavalry showed above the
ridge. One tremendous discharge again shook the field, and ere the smoke
cleared away they were again far in retreat.

So much was my attention occupied with this movement that I had not
perceived the long line of infantry that came from the extreme left, and
were now advancing also towards the bridge at a brisk quick-step; scattered
bodies of cavalry came up from different parts, while from the little
valley, every now and then, a rifleman would mount the rising ground,
turning to fire as he retreated. All this boded a rapid and disorderly
retreat; and although as yet I could see nothing of the pursuing enemy, I
knew too well the relative forces of each to have a doubt for the result.

At last the head of a French column appeared above the mist, and I could
plainly distinguish the gestures of the officers as they hurried their men
onwards. Meanwhile a loud hurra attracted my attention, and I turned my eye
towards the road which led to the river. Here a small body of the 95th had
hurriedly assembled, and formed again, were standing to cover the retreat
of the broken infantry as they passed on eagerly to the bridge; in a second
after the French cuirassiers appeared. Little anticipating resistance from
a flying and disordered mass, they rode headlong forward, and although the
firm attitude and steady bearing of the Highlanders might have appalled
them, they rode heedlessly down upon the square, sabring the very men in
the front rank. Till now not a trigger had been pulled, when suddenly the
word "Fire!" was given, and a withering volley of balls sent the cavalry
column in shivers. One hearty cheer broke from the infantry in the rear,
and I could hear "Gallant Ninety-fifth!" shouted on every side along the
plain.

The whole vast space before me was now one animated battle-ground. Our own
troops, retiring in haste before the overwhelming forces of the French,
occupied every little vantage ground with their guns and light infantry,
charges of cavalry coursing hither and thither; while, as the French
pressed forward, the retreating columns again formed into squares to
permit stragglers to come up. The rattle of small-arms, the heavy peal of
artillery, the earth-quake crash of cavalry, rose on every side, while the
cheers which alternately told of the vacillating fortune of the fight rose
amidst the wild pibroch of the Highlanders.

A tremendous noise now took place on the floor beneath me; and looking
down, I perceived that a sergeant and party of sappers had taken possession
of the little hut, and were busily engaged in piercing the walls for
musketry; and before many minutes had elapsed, a company of the Rifles were
thrown into the building, which, from its commanding position above the
road, enfiladed the whole line of march. The officer in command briefly
informed me that we had been attacked that morning by the French in force,
and "devilishly well thrashed;" that we were now in retreat beyond the Coa,
where we ought to have been three days previously, and desired me to cross
the bridge and get myself out of the way as soon as I possibly could.

A twenty-four pounder from the French lines struck the angle of the house
as he spoke, scattering the mortar and broken bricks about us on all sides.
This was warning sufficient for me, wounded and disabled as I was; so
taking the few things I could save in my haste, I hurried from the hut, and
descending the path, now slippery by the heavy rain, I took my way across
the bridge, and established myself on a little rising knoll of ground
beyond, from which a clear view could be obtained of the whole field.

I had not been many minutes in my present position ere the pass which led
down to the bridge became thronged with troops, wagons, ammunition carts,
and hospital stores, pressing thickly forward amidst shouting and uproar;
the hills on either side of the way were crowded with troops, who formed
as they came up, the artillery taking up their position on every rising
ground. The firing had already begun, and the heavy booming of the large
guns was heard at intervals amidst the rattling crash of musketry. Except
the narrow road before me, and the high bank of the stream, I could see
nothing; but the tumult and din, which grew momentarily louder, told that
the tide of battle raged nearer and nearer. Still the retreat continued;
and at length the heavy artillery came thundering across the narrow bridge
followed by stragglers of all arms, and wounded, hurrying to the rear. The
sharpshooters and the Highlanders held the heights above the stream, thus
covering the retiring columns; but I could plainly perceive that their fire
was gradually slackening, and that the guns which flanked their position
were withdrawn, and everything bespoke a speedy retreat. A tremendous
discharge of musketry at this moment, accompanied by a deafening cheer,
announced the advance of the French, and soon the head of the Highland
brigade was seen descending towards the bridge, followed by the Rifles and
the 95th; the cavalry, consisting of the 11th and 14th Light Dragoons, were
now formed in column of attack, and the infantry deployed into line; and in
an instant after, high above the din and crash of battle, I heard the word
"Charge!" The rising crest of the hill hid them from my sight, but my heart
bounded with ecstasy as I listened to the clanging sound of the cavalry
advance. Meanwhile the infantry pressed on, and forming upon the bank,
took up a strong position in front of the bridge; the heavy guns were
also unlimbered, riflemen scattered through the low copse-wood, and every
precaution taken to defend the pass to the last. For a moment all my
attention was riveted to the movements upon our own side of the stream,
when suddenly the cavalry bugle sounded the recall, and the same moment
the staff came galloping across the bridge. One officer I could perceive,
covered with orders and trappings, his head was bare, and his horse,
splashed with blood and foam, moved lamely and with difficulty; he turned
in the middle of the bridge, as if irresolute whether to retreat farther.
One glance at him showed me the bronzed, manly features of our leader.
Whatever his resolve, the matter was soon decided for him, for the cavalry
came galloping swiftly down the slope, and in an instant the bridge was
blocked up by the retreating forces, while the French as suddenly appearing
above the height, opened a plunging fire upon their defenceless enemies;
their cheer of triumph was answered by our fellows from the opposite bank,
and a heavy cannonade thundered along the rocky valley, sending up a
hundred echoes as it went.

The scene now became one of overwhelming interest; the French, posting
their guns upon the height, replied to our fire, while their line, breaking
into skirmishers, descended the banks to the river's edge, and poured
in one sheet of galling musketry. The road to the bridge, swept by our
artillery, presented not a single file; and although a movement among
the French announced the threat of an attack, the deadly service of the
artillery seemed to pronounce it hopeless.

A strong cavalry force stood inactively spectators of the combat, on the
French side, among whom I now remarked some bustle and preparation, and as
I looked an officer rode boldly to the river's edge, and spurring his horse
forward, plunged into the stream. The swollen and angry torrent, increased
by the late rains, boiled like barm, and foamed around him as he advanced;
when suddenly his horse appeared to have lost its footing, and the rapid
current, circling around him, bore him along with it. He labored madly, but
in vain, to retrace his steps; the rolling torrent rose above his saddle,
and all that his gallant steed could do was barely sufficient to keep
afloat; both man and horse were carried down between the contending
armies. I could see him wave his hand to his comrades, as if in adieu. One
deafening cheer of admiration rose from the French lines, and the next
moment he was seen to fall from his seat, and his body, shattered with
balls, floated mournfully upon the stream.

This little incident, to which both armies were witnesses, seemed to have
called forth all the fiercer passions of the contending forces; a loud yell
of taunting triumph rose from the Highlanders, responded to by a cry of
vengeance from the French, and the same moment the head of a column was
seen descending the narrow causeway to the bridge, while an officer with a
whole blaze of decorations and crosses sprang from his horse and took the
lead. The little drummer, a child of scarcely ten years old, tripped gayly
on, beating his little _pas des charge_, seeming rather like the play of
infancy than the summons to death and carnage, as the heavy guns of the
French opened a volume of fire and flame to cover the attacking column. For
a moment all was hid from our eyes; the moment after the grape-shot swept
along the narrow causeway; and the bridge, which but a second before was
crowded with the life and courage of a noble column, was now one heap of
dead and dying. The gallant fellow who led them on fell among the first
rank, and the little child, as if kneeling, was struck dead beside the
parapet; his fair hair floated across his cold features, and seemed in its
motion to lend a look of life where the heart's throb had ceased forever.
The artillery again re-opened upon us; and when the smoke had cleared away,
we discovered that the French had advanced to the middle of the bridge and
carried off the body of their general. Twice they essayed to cross, and
twice the death-dealing fire of our guns covered the narrow bridge with
slain, while by the wild pibroch of the 42d, swelling madly into notes of
exultation and triumph, the Highlanders could scarcely be prevented from
advancing hand to hand with the foe. Gradually the French slackened their
fire, their great guns were one by one withdrawn from the heights, and a
dropping, irregular musketry at intervals sustained the fight, which, ere
sunset, ceased altogether; and thus ended "The Battle of the Coa!"




CHAPTER VI.


THE NIGHT MARCH.

Scarcely had the night fallen when our retreat commenced. Tired and weary
as our brave fellows felt, but little repose was allowed them; their
bivouac fires were blazing brightly, and they had just thrown themselves
in groups around them, when the word to fall in was passed from troop to
troop, and from battalion to battalion,--no trumpet, no bugle called them
to their ranks. It was necessary that all should be done noiselessly and
speedily; while, therefore, the wounded were marched to the front, and
the heavy artillery with them, a brigade of light four pounders and two
squadrons of cavalry held the heights above the bridge, and the infantry,
forming into three columns, began their march.

My wound, forgotten in the heat and excitement of the conflict, was now
becoming excessively painful, and I gladly availed myself of a place in a
wagon, where, stretched upon some fresh straw, with no other covering save
the starry sky, I soon fell sound asleep, and neither the heavy jolting of
the rough conveyance, nor the deep and rutty road, were able to disturb my
slumbers. Still through my sleep I heard the sounds around me, the heavy
tramp of infantry, the clash of the moving squadrons, and the dull roll of
artillery; and ever and anon the half-stifled cry of pain, mingling with
the reckless carol of some drinking-song, all flitted through my dreams,
lending to my thoughts of home and friends a memory of glorious war.

All the vicissitudes of a soldier's life passed then in review before me,
elicited in some measure by the things about. The pomp and grandeur, the
misery and meanness, the triumph, the defeat, the moment of victory, and
the hour of death were there, and in that vivid dream I lived a life long.

I awoke at length, the cold and chilling air which follows midnight blew
around me, and my wounded arm felt as though it were frozen. I tried to
cover myself beneath the straw, but in vain; and as my limbs trembled and
my teeth chattered, I thought again of home, where, at that moment, the
poorest menial of my uncle's house was better lodged than I; and strange to
say, something of pride mingled with the thought, and in my lonely heart a
feeling of elation cheered me.

These reflections were interrupted by the sound of a voice near me, which I
at once knew to be O'Shaughnessy's; he was on foot, and speaking evidently
in some excitement.

"I tell you, Maurice, some confounded blunder there must be; sure, he was
left in the cottage near the bridge, and no one ever saw him after."

"The French took it from the Rifles before we crossed the river. By Jove!
I'll wager my chance of promotion against a pint of sherry, he'll turn up
somewhere in the morning; those Galway chaps have as many lives as a cat."

"See, now, Maurice, I wouldn't for a full colonelcy anything would happen
to him; I like the boy."

"So do I myself; but I tell you there's no danger of him. Did you ask
Sparks anything?"

"Ask Sparks! God help you! Sparks would go off in a fit at the sight of me.
No, no, poor creature! it's little use it would be my speaking to him."

"Why so, Doctor!" cried I, from my straw couch.

"May I never, if it's not him! Charley, my son, I'm glad you're safe.
'Faith, I thought you were on your way to Verdun by this time."

"Sure, I told you he'd find his way here--But, O'Mealey, dear, you're
mighty could,--a rigor, as old M'Lauchlan would call it."

"E'en sae, Maister Quill," said a broad Scotch accent behind him; "and I
canna see ony objection to giein' things their right names."

"The top of the morning to you," said Quill, familiarly patting him on the
back; "how goes it, old Brimstone?"

The conversation might not have taken a very amicable turn had M'Lauchlan
heard the latter part of this speech; but, as happily he was engaged
unpacking a small canteen which he had placed in the wagon, it passed
unnoticed.

"You'll nae dislike a toothfu' of something warm, Major," said he,
presenting a glass to O'Shaughnessy; "and if ye'll permit me, Mr. O'Mealey,
to help you--"

"A thousand thanks, Doctor; but I fear a broken arm--"

"There's naething in the whiskey to prevent the proper formation of
callus."

"By the rock of Cashel, it never made any one callous," said O'Shaughnessy,
mistaking the import of the phrase.

"Ye are nae drinking frae the flask?" said the doctor, turning in some
agitation towards Quill.

"Devil a bit, my darling. I've a little horn convaniency here, that holds
half-a-pint, nice measure."

I don't imagine that our worthy friend participated in Quill's admiration
of the "convaniency," for he added, in a dry tone:--

"Ye may as weel tak your liquor frae a glass, like a Christian, as stick
your nose in a coo's horn."

"By my conscience, you're no small judge of spirits, wherever you learned
it," said the major; "it's like Islay malt!"

"I was aye reckoned a gude ane," said the doctor, "and my mither's brither
Caimbogie had na his like in the north country. Ye may be heerd tell what
he aince said to the Duchess of Argyle, when she sent for him to taste her
claret."

"Never heard of it," quoth Quill; "let's have it by all means. I'd like to
hear what the duchess said to him."

"It was na what the duchess said to him, but what he said to the duchess,
ye ken. The way of it was this: My uncle Caimbogie was aye up at the
castle, for besides his knowledge of liquor, there was nae his match for
deer-stalking, or spearing a salmon, in those parts. He was a great, rough
carle, it's true; but ane ye'd rather crack wi' than fight wi'.

"Weel, ae day they had a grand dinner at the duke's, and there were plenty
o' great southern lords and braw leddies in velvets and satin; and vara
muckle surprised they were at my uncle, when he came in wi' his tartan
kilt, in full Highland dress, as the head of a clan ought to do. Caimbogie,
however, pe'd nae attention to them; but he eat his dinner, and drank his
wine, and talked away about fallow and red deer, and at last the duchess,
for she was aye fond o' him, addressed him frae the head o' the table:--

"'Cambogie,' quoth she, 'I'd like to hae your opinion about that wine. It's
some the duke has just received, and we should like to hear what you think
of it.'

"'It's nae sae bad, my leddy,' said my uncle; for ye see he was a man of
few words, and never flattered onybody.

"'Then you don't approve much of it?' said the duchess.

"'I've drank better, and I've drank waur,' quo' he.

"'I'm sorry you don't like it, Caimbogie,' said the duchess, 'for it can
never be popular now,--we have such a dependence upon your taste.'

"'I cauna say ower muckle for my _taste_, my leddy, but ae thing I _will_
say,--I've a most damnable _smell!_'

"I hear that never since the auld walls stood was there ever the like o'
the laughing that followed; the puir duke himsel' was carried away, and
nearly had a fit, and a' the grand lords and leddies a'most died of it. But
see here, the earle has nae left a drap o' whiskey in the flask."

"The last glass I drained to your respectable uncle's health," said Quill,
with a most professional gravity. "Now, Charlie, make a little room for me
in the straw."

The doctor soon mounted beside me, and giving me a share of his ample
cloak, considerably ameliorated my situation.

"So you knew Sparks, Doctor?" said I, with a strong curiosity to hear
something of his early acquaintance.

"That I did: I knew him when he was an ensign in the 10th Foot; and, to say
the truth, he is not much changed since that time,--the same lively look of
a sick cod-fish about his gray eyes; the same disorderly wave of his yellow
hair; the same whining voice, and that confounded apothecary's laugh."

"Come, come, Doctor, Sparks is a good fellow at heart; I won't have him
abused. I never knew he had been in the infantry; I should think it must
have been another of the same name."

"Not at all; there's only one like him in the service, and that's himself.
Confound it, man, I'd know his skin upon a bush; he was only three weeks
in the Tenth, and, indeed, your humble servant has the whole merit of his
leaving it so soon."

"Do let us hear how that happened."

"Simply thus: The jolly Tenth were some four years ago the pleasantest
corps in the army; from the lieutenant-colonel down to the last joined
sub., all were out-and-outers,--real gay fellows. The mess was, in fact,
like a pleasant club, and if you did not suit it, the best thing you could
do was to sell out or exchange into a slower regiment; and, indeed, this
very wholesome truth was not very long in reaching your ears some way or
other, and a man that could remain after being given this hint, was likely
to go afterwards without one."

Just as Dr. Quill reached this part of his story, an orderly dragoon
galloped furiously past, and the next moment an aide-de-camp rode by,
calling as he passed us,--

"Close up, there! Close up! Get forward, my lads! get forward!"

It was evident, from the stir and bustle about, that some movement was
being made; and soon after, a dropping, irregular fire from the rear showed
that our cavalry were engaged with the enemy. The affair was scarcely of
five minutes' duration, and our march resumed all its former regularity
immediately after.

I now turned to the doctor to resume his story, but he was gone; at what
moment he left I could not say, but O'Shaughnessy was also absent, nor did
I again meet with them for a considerable time after.

Towards daybreak we halted at Bonares, when, my wound demanding rest and
attention, I was billeted in the village, and consigned to all the miseries
of a sick bed.




CHAPTER VII.


THE JOURNEY.

With that disastrous day my campaigning was destined, for some time
at least, to conclude. My wound, which grew from hour to hour more
threatening, at length began to menace the loss of the arm, and by the
recommendation of the regimental surgeons, I was ordered back to Lisbon.

Mike, by this time perfectly restored, prepared everything for my
departure, and on the third day after the battle of the Coa, I began my
journey with downcast spirits and depressed heart. The poor fellow was,
however, a kind and affectionate nurse, and unlike many others, his cares
were not limited to the mere bodily wants of his patient,--he sustained,
as well as he was able, my drooping resolution, rallied my spirits, and
cheered my courage. With the very little Portuguese he possessed, he
contrived to make every imaginable species of bargain; always managed a
good billet; kept every one in good humor, and rarely left his quarters in
the morning without a most affective leave-taking, and reiterated promises
to renew his visit.

Our journeys were usually short ones, and already two days had elapsed,
when, towards nightfall, we entered the little hamlet of Jaffra. During the
entire of that day, the pain of my wounded limb had been excruciating; the
fatigue of the road and the heat had brought back violent inflammation, and
when at last the little village came in sight, my reason was fast yielding
to the torturing agonies of my wound. But the transports with which I
greeted my resting-place were soon destined to a change; for as we drew
near, not a light was to be seen, not a sound to be heard, not even a dog
barked as the heavy mule-cart rattled over the uneven road. No trace of
any living thing was there. The little hamlet lay sleeping in the pale
moonlight, its streets deserted, and its homes tenantless; our own
footsteps alone echoed along the dreary causeway. Here and there, as we
advanced farther, we found some relics of broken furniture and house-gear;
most of the doors lay open, but nothing remained within save bare walls;
the embers still smoked in many places upon the hearth, and showed us that
the flight of the inhabitants had been recent. Yet everything convinced
us that the French had not been there; there was no trace of the reckless
violence and wanton cruelty which marked their footsteps everywhere.

All proved that the desertion had been voluntary; perhaps in compliance
with an order of our commander-in-chief, who frequently desired any
intended line of march of the enemy to be left thus a desert. As we
sauntered slowly on from street to street, half hoping that some one human
being yet remained behind, and casting our eyes from side to side in search
of quarters for the night, Mike suddenly came running up, saying,--

"I have it, sir; I've found it out. There's people living down that small
street there; I saw a light this minute as I passed."

I turned immediately, and accompanied by the mule-driver, followed Mike
across a little open square into a small and narrow street, at the end
of which a light was seen faintly twinkling. We hurried on and in a few
minutes reached a high wall of solid masonry, from a niche of which we now
discovered, to our utter disappointment, the light proceeded. It was a
small lamp placed before a little waxen image of the Virgin, and was
probably the last act of piety of some poor villager ere he left his home
and hearth forever. There it burned, brightly and tranquilly, throwing its
mellow ray upon the cold, deserted stones.

Whatever impatience I might have given way to in a moment of chagrin was
soon repressed, as I saw my two followers, uncovering their heads in silent
reverence, kneel down before the little shrine. There was something at once
touching and solemn in this simultaneous feeling of homage from the hearts
of those removed in country, language, and in blood. They bent meekly down,
their heads bowed upon their bosoms, while with muttering voices each
offered up his prayer. All sense of their disappointment, all memory of
their forlorn state, seemed to have yielded to more powerful and absorbing
thoughts, as they opened their hearts in prayer.

My eyes were still fixed upon them when suddenly Mike, whose devotion
seemed of the briefest, sprang to his legs, and with a spirit of levity
but little in accordance with his late proceedings, commenced a series of
kicking, rapping, and knocking at a small oak postern sufficient to have
aroused a whole convent from their cells. "House there! Good people
within!"--bang, bang, bang; but the echoes alone responded to his call,
and the sounds died away at length in the distant streets, leaving all as
silent and dreary as before.

Our Portuguese friend, who by this time had finished his orisons, now began
a vigorous attack upon the small door, and with the assistance of Mike,
armed with a fragment of granite about the size of a man's head, at length
separated the frame from the hinges, and sent the whole mass prostrate
before us.

The moon was just rising as we entered the little park, where gravelled
walks, neatly kept and well-trimmed, bespoke recent care and attention;
following a handsome alley of lime-trees, we reached a little _jet d'eau_,
whose sparkling fountain shone diamond-like in the moonbeams, and escaping
from the edge of a vast shell, ran murmuring amidst mossy stones and
water-lilies that, however naturally they seemed thrown around, bespoke
also the hand of taste in their position. On turning from the spot, we came
directly in front of an old but handsome chateau, before which stretched
a terrace of considerable extent. Its balustraded parapet lined with
orange-trees, now in full blossom, scented the still air with delicious
odor; marble statues peeped here and there amidst the foliage, while a rich
acacia, loaded with flowers, covered the walls of the building, and hung in
vast masses of variegated blossom across the tall windows.

As leaning on Mike's arm I slowly ascended the steps of the terrace, I was
more than ever struck with the silence and death-like stillness around;
except the gentle plash of the fountain, all was at rest; the very plants
seemed to sleep in the yellow moonlight, and not a trace of any living
thing was there.

The massive door lay open as we entered the spacious hall flagged with
marble and surrounded with armorial bearings. We advanced farther and came
to a broad and handsome stair, which led us to a long gallery, from which
a suit of rooms opened, looking towards the front part of the building.
Wherever we went, the furniture appeared perfectly untouched; nothing was
removed; the very chairs were grouped around the windows and the tables;
books, as if suddenly dropped from their readers' hands, were scattered
upon the sofas and the ottomans; and in one small apartment, whose blue
satin walls and damask drapery bespoke a boudoir, a rich mantilla of
black velvet and a silk glove were thrown upon a chair. It was clear the
desertion had been most recent, and everything indicated that no time had
been given to the fugitives to prepare for flight. What a sad picture of
war was there! To think of those whose home was endeared to them by all
the refinements of cultivated life and all the associations of years of
happiness sent out upon the wide world wanderers and houseless, while
their hearth, sacred by every tie that binds us to our kindred, was to
be desecrated by the ruthless and savage hands of a ruffian soldiery. I
thought of them,--perhaps at that very hour their thoughts were clinging
round the old walls, remembering each well-beloved spot, while they took
their lonely path through mountain and through valley,--and felt ashamed
and abashed at my own intrusion there. While thus my revery ran on, I
had not perceived that Mike, whose views were very practical upon all
occasions, had lighted a most cheerful fire upon the hearth, and disposing
a large sofa before it, had carefully closed the curtains; and was, in
fact, making himself and his master as much at home as though he had spent
his life there.

"Isn't it a beautiful place, Misther Charles? And this little room, doesn't
it remind you of the blue bed-room in O'Malley Castle, barrin' the elegant
view out upon the Shannon, and the mountain of Scariff?"

Nothing short of Mike's patriotism could forgive such a comparison; but,
however, I did not contradict him as he ran on:--

"Faith, I knew well there was luck in store for us this evening; and ye see
the handful of prayers I threw away outside wasn't lost. Jose's making
the beasts comfortable in the stable, and I'm thinking we'll none of us
complain of our quarters. But you're not eating your supper; and the
beautiful hare-pie that I stole this morning, won't you taste it? Well, a
glass of Malaga? Not a glass of Malaga? Oh, mother of Moses! what's this
for?"

Unfortunately, the fever produced by the long and toilsome journey had
gained considerably on me, and except copious libations of cold water, I
could touch nothing; my arm, too, was much more painful than before. Mike
soon perceived that rest and quietness were most important to me at the
moment, and having with difficulty been prevailed upon to swallow a few
hurried mouthfuls, the poor fellow disposed cushions around me in every
imaginable form for comfort; and then, placing my wounded limb in its
easiest position, he extinguished the lamp, and sat silently down beside
the hearth, without speaking another word.

Fatigue and exhaustion, more powerful than pain, soon produced their
effects upon me, and I fell asleep; but it was no refreshing slumber which
visited my heavy eyelids; the slow fever of suffering had been hour by
hour increasing, and my dreams presented nothing but scenes of agony and
torture. Now I thought that, unhorsed and wounded, I was trampled beneath
the clanging hoofs of charging cavalry; now I felt the sharp steel piercing
my flesh, and heard the loud cry of a victorious enemy; then, methought, I
was stretched upon a litter, covered by gore and mangled by a grape-shot.
I thought I saw my brother officers approach and look sadly upon me, while
one, whose face I could not remember, muttered: "I should not have known
him." The dreadful hospital of Talavera, and all its scenes of agony, came
up before me, and I thought that I lay waiting my turn for amputation. This
last impression, more horrible to me than all the rest, made me spring from
my couch, and I awoke. The cold drops of perspiration stood upon my brow,
my mouth was parched and open, and my temples throbbed so that I could
count their beatings; for some seconds I could not throw off the frightful
illusion I labored under, and it was only by degrees I recovered
consciousness and remembered where I was. Before me, and on one side of the
bright wood-fire, sat Mike, who, apparently deep in thought, gazed fixedly
at the blaze. The start I gave on awaking had not attracted his attention,
and I could see, as the flickering glare fell upon his features, that he
was pale and ghastly, while his eyes were riveted upon the fire; his lips
moved rapidly, as if in prayer, and his locked hands were pressed
firmly upon his bosom; his voice, at first inaudible, I could gradually
distinguish, and at length heard the following muttered sentences:--

"Oh, mother of mercy! So far from his home and his people, and so young to
die in a strange land--There it is again." Here he appeared listening
to some sounds from without. "Oh, wirra, wirra, I know it well!--the
winding-sheet, the winding-sheet! There it is; my own eyes saw it!"
The tears coursed fast upon his pale cheeks, and his voice grew almost
inaudible, as rocking to and fro, for some time he seemed in a very stupor
of grief; when at last, in a faint, subdued tone, he broke into one of
those sad and plaintive airs of his country, which only need the moment of
depression to make them wring the very heart in agony.

His song was that to which Moore has appended the beautiful lines, "Come
rest on this bosom." The following imperfect translation may serve to
convey some impression of the words, which in Mike's version were Irish:--

    "The day was declining,
    The dark night drew near,
    And the old lord grew sadder
    And paler with fear:
    'Come listen, my daughter,
    Come nearer, oh, near!
    Is't the wind or the water
    That sighs in my ear?'

    "Not the wind nor the water
    Now stirred the night air,
    But a warning far sadder,--.
    The Banshee was there!
    Now rising, now swelling,
    On the night wind it bore
    One cadence, still telling,
    'I want thee, Rossmore!'

    "And then fast came his breath,
    And more fixed grew his eye;
    And the shadow of death
    Told his hour was nigh.
    Ere the dawn of that morning
    The struggle was o'er,
    For when thrice came the warning
    A corpse was Rossmore!"

The plaintive air to which these words were sung fell heavily upon my
heart, and it needed but the low and nervous condition I was in to make me
feel their application to myself. But so it is; the very superstition your
reason rejects and your sense spurns, has, from old association, from
habit, and from mere nationality too, a hold upon your hopes and fears that
demands more firmness and courage than a sick-bed possesses to combat with
success; and I now listened with an eager ear to mark if the Banshee
cried, rather than sought to fortify myself by any recurrence to my own
convictions. Meanwhile Mike's attitude became one of listening attention.
Not a finger moved; he scarce seemed even to breathe; the state of suspense
I suffered from was maddening; and at last, unable to bear it longer, I
was about to speak, when suddenly, from the floor beneath us, one
long-sustained note swelled upon the air and died away again, and
immediately after, to the cheerful sounds of a guitar, we heard the husky
voice of our Portuguese guide indulging himself in a love-ditty.

Ashamed of myself for my fears, I kept silent; but Mike, who felt only one
sensation,--that of unmixed satisfaction at his mistake,--rubbed his hands
pleasantly, filled up his glass, drank it, and refilled; while with an
accent of reassured courage, he briefly remarked,--

"Well, Mr. Jose, if that be singing, upon my conscience I wonder what
crying is like!"

I could not forbear a laugh at the criticism; and in a moment, the poor
fellow, who up to that moment believed me sleeping, was beside me. I saw
from his manner that he dreaded lest I had been listening to his melancholy
song, and had overheard any of his gloomy forebodings; and as he cheered
my spirits and spoke encouragingly, I could remark that he made more than
usual endeavors to appear light-hearted and at ease. Determined, however,
not to let him escape so easily, I questioned him about his belief in
ghosts and spirits, at which he endeavored, as he ever did when the subject
was an unpleasing one, to avoid the discussion; but rather perceiving that
I indulged in no irreverent disrespect of these matters, he grew gradually
more open, treating the affair with that strange mixture of credulity and
mockery which formed his estimate of most things,--now seeming to suppose
that any palpable rejection of them might entail sad consequences in
future, now half ashamed to go the whole length in his credulity.

"And so, Mike, you never saw a ghost yourself?--that you acknowledge?"

"No, sir, I never saw a real ghost; but sure there's many a thing I never
saw; but Mrs. Moore, the housekeeper, seen two. And your grandfather that's
gone--the Lord be good to him!--used to walk once a year in Lurra Abbey;
and sure you know the story about Tim Clinchy that was seen every Saturday
night coming out of the cellar with a candle and a mug of wine and a pipe
in his mouth, till Mr. Barry laid him. It cost his honor your uncle ten
pounds in Masses to make him easy; not to speak of a new lock and two bolts
on the cellar door."

"I have heard all about that; but as you never yourself saw any of these
things--"

"But sure my father did, and that's the same any day. My father seen the
greatest ghost that ever was seen in the county Cork, and spent the evening
with him, that's more."

"Spent the evening with him!--what do you mean?"

"Just that, devil a more nor less. If your honor wasn't so weak, and the
story wasn't a trying one, I'd like to tell it to you."

"Out with it by all means, Mike; I am not disposed to sleep; and now that
we are upon these matters, my curiosity is strongly excited by your worthy
father's experience."

Thus encouraged, having trimmed the fire and reseated himself beside the
blaze, Mike began; but as a ghost is no every-day personage in our history,
I must give him a chapter to himself.




CHAPTER VIII.


THE GHOST.

"Well, I believe your honor heard me tell long ago how my father left the
army, and the way that he took to another line of life that was more to his
liking. And so it was, he was happy as the day was long; he drove a hearse
for Mr. Callaghan of Cork for many years, and a pleasant place it was; for
ye see, my father was a 'cute man, and knew something of the world; and
though he was a droll devil, and could sing a funny song when he was among
the boys, no sooner had he the big black cloak on him and the weepers, and
he seated on the high box with the six long-tailed blacks before him, you'd
really think it was his own mother was inside, he looked so melancholy and
miserable. The sexton and gravedigger was nothing to my father; and he had
a look about his eye--to be sure there was a reason for it--that you'd
think he was up all night crying; though it's little indulgence he took
that way.

"Well, of all Mr. Callaghan's men, there was none so great a favorite as my
father. The neighbors were all fond of him.

"'A kind crayture, every inch of him!' the women would say. 'Did ye see his
face at Mrs. Delany's funeral?'

"'True for you,' another would remark; 'he mistook the road with grief, and
stopped at a shebeen house instead of Kilmurry church.'

"I need say no more, only one thing,--that it was principally among the
farmers and the country people my father was liked so much. The great
people and the quality--ax your pardon; but sure isn't it true, Mister
Charles?--they don't fret so much after their fathers and brothers, and
they care little who's driving them, whether it was a decent, respectable
man like my father, or a chap with a grin on him like a rat-trap. And so
it happened that my father used to travel half the county; going here and
there wherever there was trade stirring; and faix, a man didn't think
himself rightly buried if my father wasn't there; for ye see, he knew all
about it: he could tell to a quart of spirits what would be wanting for a
wake; he knew all the good criers for miles round; and I've heard it was a
beautiful sight to see him standing on a hill, arranging the procession as
they walked into the churchyard, and giving the word like a captain,--

"'Come on, the stiff; now the friends of the stiff; now the pop'lace.'

"That's what he used to say, and troth he was always repeating it, when he
was a little gone in drink,--for that's the time his spirits would rise,
and he'd think he was burying half Munster.

"And sure it was a real pleasure and a pride to be buried in them times;
for av it was only a small farmer with a potato garden, my father would
come down with the black cloak on him, and three yards of crape behind his
hat, and set all the children crying and yelling for half a mile round;
and then the way he'd walk before them with a spade on his shoulder, and
sticking it down in the ground, clap his hat on the top of it, to make it
look like a chief mourner. It was a beautiful sight!"

"But Mike, if you indulge much longer in this flattering recollection of
your father, I'm afraid we shall lose sight of the ghost entirely."

"No fear in life, your honor; I'm coming to him now. Well, it was this
way it happened: In the winter of the great frost, about forty-two or
forty-three years ago, the ould priest of Tullonghmurray took ill and died.
He was sixty years priest of the parish, and mightily beloved by all
the people, and good reason for it; a pleasanter man, and a more
social crayture never lived,--'twas himself was the life of the whole
country-side. A wedding nor a christening wasn't lucky av he wasn't there,
sitting at the top of the table, with may be his arm round the bride
herself, or the baby on his lap, a smoking jug of punch before him, and as
much kindness in his eye as would make the fortunes of twenty hypocrites if
they had it among them. And then he was so good to the poor; the Priory was
always so full of ould men and ould women sitting around the big fire in
the kitchen that the cook could hardly get near it. There they were, eating
their meals and burning their shins till they were speckled like a trout's
back, and grumbling all the time; but Father Dwyer liked them, and he would
have them.

"'Where have they to go,' he'd say, 'av it wasn't to me? Give Molly
Kinshela a lock of that bacon. Tim, it's a could morning; will ye have a
taste of the "dew?"'

"Ah, that's the way he'd spake to them; but sure goodness is no warrant
for living, any more than devilment, and so he got could in his feet at a
station, and he rode home in the heavy snow without his big coat,--for he
gave it away to a blind man on the road; in three days he was dead.

"I see you're getting impatient, so I'll not stop to say what grief was
in the parish when it was known; but troth, there never was seen the like
before,--not a crayture would lift a spade for two days, and there was more
whiskey sold in that time than at the whole spring fair. Well, on the third
day the funeral set out, and never was the equal of it in them parts:
first, there was my father,--he came special from Cork with the six horses
all in new black, and plumes like little poplar-trees,--then came Father
Dwyer, followed by the two coadjutors in beautiful surplices, walking
bare-headed, with the little boys of the Priory school, two-and-two."

"Well, Mike, I'm sure it was very fine; but for Heaven's sake, spare me all
these descriptions, and get on to the ghost!"

"'Faith, yer honor's in a great hurry for the ghost,--may be ye won't like
him when ye have him; but I'll go faster, if ye please. Well, Father Dwyer,
ye see, was born at Aghan-lish, of an ould family, and he left it in his
will that he was to be buried in the family vault; and as Aghan-lish was
eighteen miles up the mountains, it was getting late when they drew near.
By that time the great procession was all broke up and gone home. The
coadjutors stopped to dine at the 'Blue Bellows' at the cross-roads; the
little boys took to pelting snowballs; there was a fight or two on the way
besides,--and in fact, except an ould deaf fellow that my father took to
mind the horses, he was quite alone. Not that he minded that same; for when
the crowd was gone, my father began to sing a droll song, and told the deaf
chap that it was a lamentation. At last they came in sight of Aghan-lish.
It was a lonesome, melancholy-looking place with nothing near it except two
or three ould fir-trees and a small slated house with one window, where the
sexton lived, and even that was shut up and a padlock on the door. Well,
my father was not over much pleased at the look of matters; but as he was
never hard put to what to do, he managed to get the coffin into the vestry,
and then when he had unharnessed the horses, he sent the deaf fellow with
them down to the village to tell the priest that the corpse was there, and
to come up early in the morning and perform Mass. The next thing to do was
to make himself comfortable for the night; and then he made a roaring fire
on the ould hearth,--for there was plenty of bog-fir there,--closed the
windows with the black cloaks, and wrapping two round himself, he sat down
to cook a little supper he brought with him in case of need.

"Well, you may think it was melancholy enough to pass the night up there
alone with a corpse, in an ould ruined church in the middle of the
mountains, the wind howling about on every side, and the snowdrift beating
against the walls; but as the fire burned brightly, and the little plate of
rashers and eggs smoked temptingly before him, my father mixed a jug of the
strongest punch, and sat down as happy as a king. As long as he was eating
away he had no time to be thinking of anything else; but when all was done,
and he looked about him, he began to feel very low and melancholy in his
heart. There was the great black coffin on three chairs in one corner; and
then the mourning cloaks that he had stuck up against the windows moved
backward and forward like living things; and outside, the wild cry of the
plover as he flew past, and the night-owl sitting in a nook of the old
church. 'I wish it was morning, anyhow,' said my father, 'for this is a
lonesome place to be in; and faix, he'll be a cunning fellow that catches
me passing the night this way again.' Now there was one thing distressed
him most of all,--my father used always to make fun of the ghosts and
sperits the neighbors would tell of, pretending there was no such thing;
and now the thought came to him, 'May be they'll revenge themselves on me
to-night when they have me up here alone;' and with that he made another
jug stronger than the first, and tried to remember a few prayers in case of
need, but somehow his mind was not too clear, and he said afterwards he
was always mixing up ould songs and toasts with the prayers, and when he
thought he had just got hold of a beautiful psalm, it would turn out to be
'Tatter Jack Walsh' or 'Limping James' or something like that. The storm,
meanwhile, was rising every moment, and parts of the old abbey were falling
as the wind shook the ruin; and my father's spirits, notwithstanding the
punch, wore lower than ever.

"'I made it too weak,' said he, as he set to work on a new jorum; and
troth, this time that was not the fault of it, for the first sup nearly
choked him.

"'Ah,' said he, now, 'I knew what it was; this is like the thing; and Mr.
Free, you are beginning to feel easy and comfortable. Pass the jar. Your
very good health and song. I'm a little hoarse, it's true, but if the
company will excuse--'

"And then he began knocking on the table with his knuckles, as if there was
a room full of people asking him to sing. In short, my father was drunk as
a fiddler; the last brew finished him; and he began roaring away all kinds
of droll songs, and telling all manner of stories as if he was at a great
party.

"While he was capering this way about the room, he knocked down his hat,
and with it a pack of cards he put into it before leaving home, for he was
mighty fond of a game.

"'Will ye take a hand, Mr. Free?' said he, as he gathered them up and sat
down beside the fire.

"'I'm convanient,' said he, and began dealing out as if there was a partner
fornenst him.

"When my father used to get this far in the story, he became very confused.
He says that once or twice he mistook the liquor, and took a pull at the
bottle of poteen instead of the punch; and the last thing he remembers was
asking poor Father Dwyer if he would draw near to the fire, and not be
lying there near the door.

"With that he slipped down on the ground and fell fast asleep. How long he
lay that way he could never tell. When he awoke and looked up, his hair
nearly stood on an end with fright. What do you think he seen fornenst him,
sitting at the other side of the fire, but Father Dwyer himself. There he
was, divil a lie in it, wrapped up in one of the mourning cloaks, trying to
warm his hands at the fire. "'_Salve hoc nomine patri!_' said my father,
crossing himself, 'av it's your ghost, God presarve me!'

"'Good-evening t'ye, Mr. Free,' said the ghost; 'and av I might be bould,
what's in the jug?'--for ye see, my father had it under his arm fast, and
never let it go when he was asleep.

"'_Pater noster qui es in_,--poteen, sir,' said my father; for the ghost
didn't look pleased at his talking Latin.

"'Ye might have the politeness to ax if one had a mouth on him, then,' says
the ghost.

"'Sure, I didn't think the likes of you would taste sperits.'

"'Try me,' said the ghost; and with that he filled out a glass, and tossed
it off like a Christian.

"'Beamish!' says the ghost, smacking his lips.

"'The same,' says my father; 'and sure what's happened you has not spoiled
your taste.'

"'If you'd mix a little hot,' says the ghost, 'I'm thinking it would be
better,--the night is mighty sevare.'

"'Anything that your reverance pleases,' says my father, as he began to
blow up a good fire to boil the water.

"'And what news is stirring?' says the ghost.

"'Devil a word, your reverance,--your own funeral was the only thing doing
last week. Times is bad; except the measles, there's nothing in our parts.'

"'And we're quite dead hereabouts, too,' says the ghost.

"'There's some of us so, anyhow, says my father, with a sly look. 'Taste
that, your reverance.'

"'Pleasant and refreshing,' says the ghost; 'and now, Mr. Free, what do you
say to a little "spoilt five," or "beggar my neighbor"?'

"'What will we play for? 'says my father, for a thought just struck
him,--'may be it's some trick of the Devil to catch my soul.'

"'A pint of Beamish,' says the ghost.

"'Done!' says my father; 'cut for deal. The ace of clubs,--you have it.'

"Now the whole time the ghost was dealing the cards, my father never took
his eyes off of him, for he wasn't quite aisy in his mind at all; but when
he saw him turn up the trump, and take a strong drink afterwards, he got
more at ease, and began the game.

"How long they played it was never rightly known; but one thing is sure,
they drank a cruel deal of sperits. Three quart bottles my father brought
with him were all finished, and by that time his brain was so confused with
the liquor, and all he lost,--for somehow he never won a game,--that he was
getting very quarrelsome.

"'You have your own luck to it,' says he, at last.

"'True for you; and besides, we play a great deal where I come from.'

"'I've heard so,' says my father. 'I lead the knave, sir; spades! Bad cess
to it, lost again!'

"Now it was really very distressing; for by this time, though they only
began for a pint of Beamish, my father went on betting till he lost the
hearse and all the six horses, mourning cloaks, plumes, and everything.

"'Are you tired, Mr. Free? May be you'd like to stop?'

"'Stop! faith it's a nice time to stop; of course not.'

"'Well, what will ye play for now?'

"The way he said these woods brought a trembling all over my father, and
his blood curdled in his heart. 'Oh, murther!' says he to himself, 'it's my
sowl he's wanting all the time.'

"'I've mighty little left,' says my father, looking at him keenly, while he
kept shuffling the cards quick as lightning.

"'Mighty little; no matter, we'll give you plenty of time to pay,--and if
you can't do it, it shall never trouble you as long as you live.'

"'Oh, you murthering devil!' says my father, flying at him with a spade
that he had behind his chair, 'I've found you out.'

"With one blow he knocked him down, and now a terrible fight begun, for the
ghost was very strong, too; but my father's blood was up, and he'd have
faced the Devil himself then. They rolled over each other several times,
the broken bottles cutting them to pieces, and the chairs and tables
crashing under them. At last the ghost took the bottle that lay on the
hearth, and levelled my father to the ground with one blow. Down he fell,
and the bottle and the whiskey were both dashed into the fire. That was
the end of it, for the ghost disappeared that moment in a blue flame that
nearly set fire to my father as he lay on the floor.

"Och, it was a cruel sight to see him next morning, with his cheek cut open
and his hands all bloody, lying there by himself,--all the broken glass and
the cards all round him,--the coffin, too, was knocked down off the chair,
may be the ghost had trouble getting into it. However that was, the funeral
was put off for a day, for my father couldn't speak; and as for the sexton,
it was a queer thing, but when they came to call him in the morning, he had
two black eyes, and a gash over his ear, and he never knew how he got them.
It was easy enough to know the ghost did it; but my father kept the secret,
and never told it to any man, woman, or child in them parts."




CHAPTER IX.


LISBON.

I have little power to trace the events which occupied the succeeding three
weeks of my history. The lingering fever which attended my wound detained
me during that time at the chateau; and when at last I did leave for
Lisbon, the winter was already beginning, and it was upon a cold raw
evening that I once more took possession of my old quarters at the Quay de
Soderi.

My eagerness and anxiety to learn something of the campaign was ever
uppermost, and no sooner had I reached my destination than I despatched
Mike to the quartermaster's office to pick up some news, and hear which of
my friends and brother officers were then at Lisbon. I was sitting in a
state of nervous impatience watching for his return, when at length I heard
footsteps approaching my room, and the next moment Mike's voice, saying,
"The ould room, sir, where he was before." The door suddenly opened, and my
friend Power stood before me.

"Charley, my boy!"--"Fred, my fine fellow!" was all either could say for
some minutes. Upon my part, the recollection of his bold and manly bearing
in my behalf choked all utterance; while upon his, my haggard cheek and
worn look produced an effect so sudden and unexpected that he became
speechless.

In a few minutes, however, we both rallied, and opened our store of mutual
remembrances since we parted. My career I found he was perfectly acquainted
with, and his consisted of nothing but one unceasing round of gayety and
pleasure. Lisbon had been delightful during the summer,--parties to Cintra,
excursions through the surrounding country, were of daily occurrence; and
as my friend was a favorite everywhere, his life was one of continued
amusement.

"Do you know, Charley, had it been any other man than yourself, I should
not have spared him; for I have fallen head over ears in love with your
little dark-eyed Portuguese."

"Ah, Donna Inez, you mean?"

"Yes, it is she I mean, and you need not affect such an air of uncommon
_nonchalance_. She's the loveliest girl in Lisbon, and with fortune to pay
off all the mortgages in Connemara."

"Oh, faith! I admire her amazingly; but as I never flattered myself upon
any preference--"

"Come, come, Charley, no concealment, my old fellow; every one knows the
thing's settled. Your old friend, Sir George Dashwood, told me yesterday."

"Yesterday! Why, is he here, at Lisbon?"

"To be sure he is; didn't I tell you that before? Confound it, what a head
I have! Why, man, he's come out as deputy adjutant-general; but for him I
should not have got renewed leave."

"And Miss Dashwood, is she here?"

"Yes, she came with him. By Jove, how handsome she is,--quite a different
style of thing from our dark friend, but, to my thinking, even handsomer.
Hammersley seems of my opinion, too."

"How! Is Hammersley at Lisbon?"

"On the staff here. But, confound it, what makes you so red, you have no
ill-feeling towards him now. I know he speaks most warmly of you; no later
than last night, at Sir George's--"

What Power was about to add I know not, for I sprang from my chair with a
sudden start, and walked to the window, to conceal my agitation from him.

"And so," said I, at length regaining my composure in some measure, "Sir
George also spoke of my name in connection with the senhora?"

"To be sure he did. All Lisbon does. What can you mean? But I see, my dear
boy; you know you are not of the strongest, and we've been talking far too
long. Come now, Charley, I'll say good-night. I'll be with you at breakfast
to-morrow, and tell you all the gossip; meanwhile promise me to get quietly
to bed, and so good-night."

Such was the conflicting state of feeling I suffered from that I made no
effort to detain Power. I longed to be once more alone, to think, calmly if
I could, over the position I stood in, and to resolve upon my plans for the
future.

My love for Lucy Dashwood had been long rather a devotion than a hope. My
earliest dawn of manly ambition was associated with the first hour I met
her. She it was who first touched my boyish heart, and suggested a sense
of chivalrous ardor within me; and even though lost to me forever, I could
still regard her as the mainspring of my actions, and dwell upon my passion
as the thing that hallowed every enterprise of my life.

In a word, my love, however little it might reach her heart, was everything
to mine. It was the worship of the devotee to his protecting saint. It was
the faith that made me rise above misfortune and mishap, and led me onward;
and in this way I could have borne anything, everything, rather than the
imputation of fickleness.

Lucy might not--nay, I felt she did not--love me. It was possible that some
other was preferred before me; but to doubt my own affection, to suspect my
own truth, was to destroy all the charm of my existence, and to extinguish
within me forever the enthusiasm that made me a hero to my own heart.

It may seem but poor philosophy; but alas, how many of our happiest, how
many of our brightest thoughts here are but delusions like this! The
dayspring of youth gilds the tops of the distant mountains before us, and
many a weary day through life, when clouds and storms are thickening around
us, we live upon the mere memory of the past. Some fast-flitting prospect
of a bright future, some passing glimpse of a sunlit valley, tinges all our
after-years.

It is true that he will suffer fewer disappointments, he will incur fewer
of the mishaps of the world, who indulges in no fancies such as these; but
equally true is it that he will taste none of that exuberant happiness
which is that man's portion who weaves out a story of his life, and who, in
connecting the promise of early years with the performance of later, will
seek to fulfil a fate and destiny.

Weaving such fancies, I fell sound asleep, nor woke before the stir and
bustle of the great city aroused me. Power, I found, had been twice at my
quarters that morning, but fearing to disturb me, had merely left a few
lines to say that, as he should be engaged on service during the day,
we could not meet before the evening. There were certain preliminaries
requisite regarding my leave which demanded my appearing before a board of
medical officers, and I immediately set about dressing; resolving that, as
soon as they were completed, I should, if permitted, retire to one of the
small cottages on the opposite bank of the Tagus, there to remain until my
restored health allowed me to rejoin my regiment.

I dreaded meeting the Dashwoods. I anticipated with a heavy heart how
effectually one passing interview would destroy all my day-dreams of
happiness, and I preferred anything to the sad conviction of hopelessness
such a meeting must lead to.

While I thus balanced with myself how to proceed, a gentle step came to the
door, and as it opened slowly, a servant in a dark livery entered.

"Mr. O'Malley, sir?"

"Yes," said I, wondering to whom my arrival could be thus early known.

"Sir George Dashwood requests you will step over to him as soon as you go
out," continued the man; "he is so engaged that he cannot leave home, but
is most desirous to see you."

"It is not far from here?"

"No, sir; scarcely five minutes' walk."

"Well, then, if you will show me the way, I'll follow you."

I cast one passing glance at myself to see that all was right about my
costume, and sallied forth.

In the middle of the Black Horse Square, at the door of a large,
stone-fronted building, a group of military men were assembled, chatting
and laughing away together,--some reading the lately-arrived English
papers; others were lounging upon the stone parapet, carelessly puffing
their cigars. None of the faces were known to me; so threading my way
through the crowd, I reached the steps. Just as I did so, a half-muttered
whisper met my ear:--

"Who did you say?"

"O'Malley, the young Irishman who behaved so gallantly at the Douro."

The blood rushed hotly to my cheek, my heart bounded with exultation; my
step, infirm and tottering but a moment before, became fixed and steady,
and I felt a thrill of proud enthusiasm playing through my veins. How
little did the speaker of those few and random words know what courage he
had given to a drooping heart, what renewed energy to a breaking spirit!
The voice of praise, too, coming from those to whom we had thought
ourselves unknown, has a magic about it that must be felt to be understood.
So it happened that in a few seconds a revolution had taken place in all
my thoughts and feelings, and I, who had left my quarters dispirited and
depressed, now walked confidently and proudly forward.

"Mr. O'Malley, sir," said the servant to the officer waiting, as we entered
the antechamber.

"Ah, Mr. O'Malley," said the aide-de-damp, in his blandest accent, "I hope
you're better. Sir George is most anxious to see you; he is at present
engaged with the staff--"

A bell rang at that moment, and cut short the sentence; he flew to the door
of the inner room, and returning in an instant, said,--

"Will you follow me? This way, if you please."

The room was crowded with general officers and aides-de-camp, so that for
a second or two I could not distinguish the parties; but no sooner was my
name announced, than Sir George Dashwood, forcing his way through, rushed
forward to meet me.

"O'Malley, my brave fellow, delighted to shake your hand again! How much
grown you are,--twice the man I knew you; and the arm, too, is it getting
on well?"

Scarcely giving me a moment to reply, and still holding my hand tightly in
his grasp, he introduced me on every side.

"My young Irish friend, Sir Edward, the man of the Douro. My Lord, allow me
to present Lieutenant O'Malley, of the Fourteenth."

"A very dashing thing, that of yours, sir, at Ciudad Rodrigo."

"A very senseless one, I fear, my Lord."

"No, no, I don't agree with you at all; even when no great results follow,
the _morale_ of an army benefits by acts of daring."

A running fire of kind and civil speeches poured in on me from all
quarters, and amidst all that crowd of bronzed and war-worn veterans, I
felt myself the lion of the moment. Crawfurd, it appeared, had spoken most
handsomely of my name, and I was thus made known to many of those whose own
reputations were then extending over Europe.

In this happy trance of excited pleasure I passed the morning. Amidst
the military chit-chat of the day around me, treated as an equal by the
greatest and the most distinguished, I heard all the confidential opinions
upon the campaign and its leaders; and in that most entrancing of
all flatteries,--the easy tone of companionship of our elders and
betters,--forgot my griefs, and half believed I was destined for great
things.

Fearing, at length, that I had prolonged my visit too far, I approached
Sir George to take my leave, when, drawing my arm within his, he retired
towards one of the windows.

"A word, O'Malley, before you go. I've arranged a little plan for you;
mind, I shall insist upon obedience. They'll make some difficulty about
your remaining here, so that I have appointed you one of our extra
aides-de-camp. That will free you from all trouble, and I shall not be very
exacting in my demands upon you. You must, however, commence your duties
to-day, and as we dine at seven precisely, I shall expect you. I am
aware of your wish to stay in Lisbon, my boy, and if all I hear be true,
congratulate you sincerely; but more of this another time, and so good-by."
So saying, he shook my hand once more, warmly; and without well feeling how
or why, I found myself in the street.

The last few words Sir George had spoken threw a gloom over all my
thoughts. I saw at once that the report Power had alluded to had gained
currency at Lisbon. Sir George believed it; doubtless, Lucy, too; and
forgetting in an instant all the emulative ardor that so lately stirred my
heart, I took my path beside the river, and sauntered slowly along, lost in
my reflections.

I had walked for above an hour before paying any attention to the path I
followed. Mechanically, as it were, retreating from the noise and tumult-of
the city, I wandered towards the country. My thoughts fixed but upon
one theme, I had neither ears nor eyes for aught around me; the great
difficulty of my present position now appearing to me in this light,--my
attachment to Lucy Dashwood, unrequited and unreturned as I felt it,
did not permit of my rebutting any report which might have reached her
concerning Donna Inez. I had no right, no claim to suppose her sufficiently
interested about me to listen to such an explanation, had I even the
opportunity to make it. One thing was thus clear to me,--all my hopes had
ended in that quarter; and as this conclusion sank into my mind, a species
of dogged resolution to brave my fortune crept upon me, which only waited
the first moment of my meeting her to overthrow and destroy forever.

Meanwhile I walked on,--now rapidly, as some momentary rush of passionate
excitement, now slowly, as some depressing and gloomy notion succeeded;
when suddenly my path was arrested by a long file of bullock cars which
blocked up the way. Some chance squabble had arisen among the drivers, and
to avoid the crowd and collision, I turned into a gateway which opened
beside me, and soon found myself in a lawn handsomely planted and adorned
with flowering shrubs and ornamental trees.

In the half-dreamy state my musings had brought me to, I struggled to
recollect why the aspect of the place did not seem altogether new. My
thoughts were, however, far away,--now blending some memory of my distant
home with scenes of battle and bloodshed, or resting upon my first
interview with her whose chance word, carelessly and lightly spoken, had
written the story of my life. From this revery I was rudely awakened by a
rustling noise in the trees behind me, and before I could turn my head, the
two fore-paws of a large stag-hound were planted upon my shoulders, while
the open mouth and panting tongue were close beside my face. My day-dream
was dispelled quick as lightning; it was Juan, himself, the favorite dog of
the senhora, who gave me this rude welcome, and who now, by a thousand wild
gestures and bounding caresses, seemed to do the honors of his house. There
was something so like home in these joyful greetings that I yielded myself
at once his prisoner, and followed, or rather was accompanied by him
towards the villa.

Of course, sooner or later, I should have called upon my kind friends; then
why not now, when chance has already brought me so near? Besides, if I
held to my resolution, which I meant to do,--of retiring to some quiet and
sequestered cottage till my health was restored,--the opportunity might not
readily present itself again. This line of argument perfectly satisfied my
reason; while a strong feeling of something like curiosity piqued me to
proceed, and before many minutes elapsed, I reached the house. The door, as
usual, lay wide open; and the ample hall, furnished like a sitting-room,
had its customary litter of books, music, and flowers scattered upon the
tables. My friend Juan, however, suffered me not to linger here, but
rushing furiously at a door before me, began a vigorous attack for
admittance.

As I knew this to be the drawing-room, I opened the door and walked in, but
no one was to be seen; a half-open book lay upon an ottoman, and a fan,
which I recognized as an old acquaintance, was beside it, but the owner was
absent.

I sat down, resolved to wait patiently for her coming, without any
announcement of my being there. I was not sorry, indeed, to have some
moments to collect my thoughts, and restore my erring faculties to
something like order.

As I looked about the room, it seemed as if I had been there but yesterday.
The folding-doors lay open to the garden, just as I had seen them last; and
save that the flowers seemed fewer, and those which remained of a darker
and more sombre tint, all seemed unchanged. There lay the guitar to whose
thrilling chords my heart had bounded; there, the drawing over which I had
bent in admiring pleasure, suggesting some tints of light or shadow, as the
fairy fingers traced them; every chair was known to me, and I greeted them
as things I cared for.

While thus I scanned each object around me, I was struck by a little china
vase which, unlike its other brethren, contained a bouquet of dead and
faded flowers; the blood rushed to my cheek; I started up; it was one I had
myself presented to her the day before we parted. It was in that same vase
I placed it; the very table, too, stood in the same position beside that
narrow window. What a rush of thoughts came pouring on me! And oh!--shall I
confess it?--how deeply did such a mute testimony of remembrance speak
to my heart, at the moment that I felt myself unloved and uncared for by
another! I walked hurriedly up and down, a maze of conflicting resolves
combating in my mind, while one thought ever recurred: "Would that I had
not come there!" and yet after all it may mean nothing; some piece of
passing coquetry which she will be the very first to laugh at. I remembered
how she spoke of poor Howard; what folly to take it otherwise! "Be it so,
then," said I, half aloud; "and now for my part of the game;" and with this
I took from my pocket the light-blue scarf she had given me the morning we
parted, and throwing it over my shoulder, prepared to perform my part in
what I had fully persuaded myself to be a comedy. The time, however, passed
on, and she came not; a thousand high-flown Portuguese phrases had time to
be conned over again and again by me, and I had abundant leisure to enact
my coming part; but still the curtain did not rise. As the day was wearing,
I resolved at last to write a few lines, expressive of my regret at not
meeting her, and promising myself an early opportunity of paying my
respects under more fortunate circumstances. I sat down accordingly, and
drawing the paper towards me, began in a mixture of French and Portuguese,
as it happened, to indite my billet.

"Senhora Inez--" no--"Ma chere Mademoiselle Inez--" confound it, that's too
intimate; well, here goes: "Monsieur O'Malley presente ses respects--" that
will never do; and then, after twenty other abortive attempts, I began
thoughtlessly sketching heads upon the paper, and scribbling with wonderful
facility in fifty different ways: "Ma charmante amie--Ma plus chere Inez,"
etc., and in this most useful and profitable occupation did I pass another
half-hour.

How long I should have persisted in such an employment it is difficult to
say, had not an incident intervened which suddenly but most effectually put
an end to it. As the circumstance is one which, however little striking in
itself, had the greatest and most lasting influence upon my future career,
I shall, perhaps, be excused in devoting another chapter to its recital.




CHAPTER X.


A PLEASANT PREDICAMENT.

As I sat vainly endeavoring to fix upon some suitable and appropriate
epithet by which to commence my note, my back was turned towards the door
of the garden; and so occupied was I in my meditations, that even had any
one entered at the time, in all probability I should not have perceived it.
At length, however, I was aroused from my study by a burst of laughter,
whose girlish joyousness was not quite new to me. I knew it well; it was
the senhora herself; and the next moment I heard her voice.

"I tell you, I'm quite certain I saw his face in the mirror as I passed.
Oh, how delightful! and you'll be charmed with him; so, mind, you must not
steal him from me; I shall never forgive you if you do; and look, only
look! he has got the blue scarf I gave him when he marched to the Douro."

While I perceived that I was myself seen, I could see nothing of the
speaker, and wishing to hear something further, appeared more than ever
occupied in the writing before me.

What her companion replied I could not, however, catch, but only guess at
its import by the senhora's answer. "_Fi done!_--I really am very fond of
him; but, never fear, I shall be as stately as a queen. You shall see how
meekly he will kiss my hand, and with what unbending reserve I'll receive
him."

"Indeed!" thought I; "mayhap, I'll mar your plot a little; but let us
listen."

Again her friend spoke, but too low to be heard.

"It is so provoking," continued Inez; "I never can remember names, and his
was something too absurd; but never mind, I shall make him a grandee of
Portugal. Well, but come along, I long to present him to you."

Here a gentle struggle seemed to ensue; for I heard the senhora coaxingly
entreat her, while her companion steadily resisted.

"I know very well you think I shall be so silly, and perhaps wrong; eh, is
it not so? but you are quite mistaken. You'll be surprised at my cold and
dignified manner. I shall draw myself proudly up, thus, and curtsying
deeply, say, 'Monsieur, j'ai l'honneur de vous saluer.'"

A laugh twice as mirthful as before interrupted her account of herself,
while I could hear the tones of her friend evidently in expostulation.

[Illustration: O'MALLEY FOLLOWING THE CUSTOM OF HIS COUNTRY.]

"Well, then, to be sure, you are provoking, but you really promise to
follow me. Be it so; then give me that moss-rose. How you have fluttered
me; now for it!"

So saying, I heard her foot upon the gravel, and the next instant upon the
marble step of the door. There is something in expectation that sets the
heart beating, and mine throbbed against my side. I waited, however, till
she entered, before lifting my head, and then springing suddenly up, with
one bound clasped her in my arms, and pressing my lips upon her roseate
cheek, said,--

"_Mar charmante amie!_" To disengage herself from me, and to spring
suddenly back was her first effort; to burst into an immoderate fit of
laughing, her second; her cheek was, however, covered with a deep blush,
and I already repented that my malice had gone so far.

"Pardon, Mademoiselle," said I, in affected innocence, "if I have so far
forgotten myself as to assume a habit of my own country to a stranger."

A half-angry toss of the head was her only reply, and turning towards the
garden, she called to her friend:--

"Come here, dearest, and instruct my ignorance upon your national customs;
but first let me present to you,--never know his name,--the Chevalier de
----What is it?"

The glass door opened as she spoke; a tall and graceful figure entered, and
turning suddenly round, showed me the features of Lucy Dashwood. We both
stood opposite each other, each mute with amazement. _My_ feelings let me
not attempt to convey; shame, for the first moment stronger than aught
else, sent the blood rushing to my face and temples, and the next I was
cold and pale as death. As for her, I cannot guess at what passed in
her mind. She curtsied deeply to me, and with a half-smile of scarce
recognition passed by me, and walked towards a window.

"_Comme vous etes amiable!_" said the lively Portuguese, who comprehended
little of this dumb show; "here have I been flattering myself what friends
you'd be the very moment you meet, and now you'll not even look at each
other."

What was to be done? The situation was every instant growing more and more
embarrassing; nothing but downright effrontery could get through with
it now; and never did a man's heart more fail him than did mine at this
conjuncture. I made the' effort, however, and stammered out certain
unmeaning commonplaces. Inez replied, and I felt myself conversing with the
headlong recklessness of one marching to a scaffold, a coward's fear at his
heart, while he essayed to seem careless and indifferent.

Anxious to reach what I esteemed safe ground, I gladly adverted to the
campaign; and at last, hurried on by the impulse to cover my embarrassment,
was describing some skirmish with a French outpost. Without intending, I
had succeeded in exciting the senhora's interest, and she listened with
sparkling eye and parted lips to the description of a sweeping charge in
which a square was broken, and several prisoners carried off. Warming with
the eager avidity of her attention, I grew myself more excited, when just
as my narrative reached its climax, Miss Dashwood walked gently towards the
bell, rang it, and ordered her carriage. The tone of perfect _nonchalance_
of the whole proceeding struck me dumb; I faltered, stammered, hesitated,
and was silent. Donna Inez turned from one to the other of us with a look
of unfeigned astonishment and I heard her mutter to herself something
like a reflection upon "national eccentricities." Happily, however,
her attention was now exclusively turned towards her friend, and while
assisting her to shawl, and extorting innumerable promises of an early
visit, I got a momentary reprieve; the carriage drew up also, and as the
gravel flew right and left beneath the horses' feet, the very noise and
bustle relieved me. "_Adios_," then said Inez, as she kissed her for the
last time, while she motioned to me to escort her to her carriage. I
advanced, stopped, made another step forward, and again grew irresolute;
but Miss Dashwood speedily terminated the difficulty; for making me a
formal curtsey, she declined my scarce-proffered attention, and left the
room.

As she did so, I perceived that on passing the table, her eyes fell upon
the paper I had been scribbling over so long, and I thought that for
an instant an expression of ineffable scorn seemed to pass across her
features, save which--and perhaps even in this I was mistaken--her manner
was perfectly calm, easy, and indifferent.

Scarce had the carriage rolled from the door, when the senhora, throwing
herself upon her chair, clapped her hands in childish ecstasy, while she
fell into a fit of laughing that I thought would never have an end. "Such
a scene!" cried she; "I would not have lost it for the world; what
cordiality! what _empressement_ to form acquaintance! I shall never forget
it, Monsieur le Chevalier; your national customs seem to run sadly in
extremes. One would have thought you deadly enemies; and poor me, after a
thousand delightful plans about you both!"

As she ran on thus, scarce able to control her mirth at each sentence, I
walked the room with impatient strides, now, resolving to hasten after the
carriage, stop it, explain in a few words how all had happened, and then
fly from her forever; then the remembrance of her cold, impassive look
crossed me, and I thought that one bold leap into the Tagus might be the
shortest and easiest solution to all my miseries. Perfect abasement,
thorough self-contempt had broken all my courage, and I could have cried
like a child. What I said, or how I comforted myself after, I know not; but
my first consciousness came to me as I felt myself running at the top of my
speed far upon the road towards Lisbon.




CHAPTER XI.


THE DINNER.

It may easily be imagined that I had little inclination to keep my promise
of dining that day with Sir George Dashwood. However, there was nothing
else for it; the die was cast,--my prospects as regarded Lucy were ruined
forever. We were not, we never could be anything to each other; and as for
me, the sooner I braved my altered fortunes the better; and after all, why
should I call them altered. She evidently never had cared for me; and even
supposing that my fervent declaration of attachment had interested her, the
apparent duplicity and falseness of my late conduct could only fall the
more heavily upon me.

I endeavored to philosophize myself into calmness and indifference. One by
one I exhausted every argument for my defence, which, however ingeniously
put forward, brought no comfort to my own conscience. I pleaded the
unerring devotion of my heart, the uprightness of my motives, and when
called on for the proofs,--alas! except the blue scarf I wore in memory of
another, and my absurd conduct at the villa, I had none. From the current
gossip of Lisbon, down to my own disgraceful folly, all, all was against
me.

Honesty of intention, rectitude of purpose, may be, doubtless they are,
admirable supports to a rightly constituted mind; but even then they must
come supported by such claims to probability as make the injured man feel
he has not lost the sympathy of all his fellows. Now, I had none of these,
had even my temperament, broken by sickness and harassed by unlucky
conjectures, permitted my appreciating them.

I endeavored to call my wounded pride to my aid, and thought over the
glance of haughty disdain she gave me as she passed on to her carriage; but
even this turned against me, and a humiliating sense of my own degraded
position sank deeply into my heart. "This impression at least," thought I,
"must be effaced. I cannot permit her to believe--"

"His Excellency is waiting dinner, sir," said a lackey, introducing a
finely powdered head gently within the door. I looked at my watch, it was
eight o'clock; so snatching my sabre, and shocked at my delay, I
hastily followed the servant down-stairs, and thus at once cut short my
deliberations.

The man must be but little observant or deeply sunk in his own reveries,
who, arriving half-an-hour too late for dinner, fails to detect in the
faces of the assembled and expectant guests a very palpable expression of
discontent and displeasure. It is truly a moment of awkwardness, and one
in which few are found to manage with success; the blushing, hesitating,
blundering apology of the absent man, is scarcely better than the
ill-affected surprise of the more practised offender. The bashfulness of
the one is as distasteful as the cool impertinence of the other; both are
so thoroughly out of place, for we are thinking of neither; our thoughts
are wandering to cold soups and rechauffed pates, and we neither care for
nor estimate the cause, but satisfy our spleen by cursing the offender.

Happily for me I was clad in a triple insensibility to such feelings,
and with an air of most perfect unconstraint and composure walked into
a drawing-room where about twenty persons were busily discussing what
peculiar amiability in my character could compensate for my present
conduct.

"At last, O'Malley, at last!" said Sir George. "Why, my dear boy, how very
late you are!"

I muttered something about a long walk,--distance from Lisbon, etc.

"Ah! that was it. I was right, you see!" said an old lady in a spangled
turban, as she whispered something to her friend beside her, who appeared
excessively shocked at the information conveyed; while a fat, round-faced
little general, after eying me steadily through his glass, expressed a
_sotto voce_ wish that I was upon _his_ staff. I felt my cheek reddening
at the moment, and stared around me like one whose trials were becoming
downright insufferable, when happily dinner was announced, and terminated
my embarrassment.

As the party filed past, I perceived that Miss Dashwood was not among them;
and with a heart relieved for the moment by the circumstance, and inventing
a hundred conjectures to account for it, I followed with the aides-de-camp
and the staff to the dinner-room.

The temperament is very Irish, I believe, which renders a man so elastic
that from the extreme of depression to the very climax of high spirits,
there is but one spring. To this I myself plead guilty, and thus, scarcely
was I freed from the embarrassment which a meeting with Lucy Dashwood must
have caused, when my heart bounded with lightness.

When the ladies withdrew, the events of the campaign became the subject of
conversation, and upon these, very much to my astonishment, I found myself
consulted as an authority. The Douro, from some fortunate circumstance, had
given me a reputation I never dreamed of, and I heard my opinions quoted
upon topics of which my standing as an officer, and my rank in the service,
could not imply a very extended observation. Power was absent on duty; and
happily for my supremacy, the company consisted entirely of generals in the
commissariat or new arrivals from England, all of whom knew still less than
myself.

What will not iced champagne and flattery do? Singly, they are strong
impulses; combined, their power is irresistible. I now heard for the first
time that our great leader had been elevated to the peerage by the title of
Lord Wellington, and I sincerely believe--however now I may smile at the
confession--that, at the moment, I felt more elation at the circumstance
than he did. The glorious sensation of being in any way, no matter how
remotely, linked with the career of those whose path is a high one, and
whose destinies are cast for great events, thrilled through me; and in
all the warmth of my admiration and pride for our great captain, a secret
pleasure stirred within me as I whispered to myself, "And I, too, am a
soldier!"

I fear me that very little flattery is sufficient to turn the head of a
young man of eighteen; and if I yielded to the "pleasant incense," let my
apology be that I was not used to it; and lastly, let me avow, if I did get
tipsy, I liked the liquor. And why not? It is the only tipple I know of
that leaves no headache the next morning to punish you for the glories of
the past night. It may, like all other strong potations, it is true, induce
you to make a fool of yourself when under its influence; but like the
nitrous-oxide gas, its effects are passing, and as the pleasure is an
ecstasy for the time, and your constitution none the worse when it is over,
I really see no harm in it.

Then the benefits are manifest; for while he who gives becomes never the
poorer for his benevolence, the receiver is made rich indeed. It matters
little that some dear, kind friend is ready with his bitter draught to
remedy what he is pleased to call its unwholesome sweetness; you betake
yourself with only the more pleasure to the "blessed elixir," whose
fascinations neither the poverty of your pocket, nor the penury of your
brain, can withstand, and by the magic of whose spell you are great and
gifted. "_Vive la bagatelle!_" saith the Frenchman. "Long live flattery!"
say I, come from what quarter it will,--the only wealth of the poor man,
the only reward of the unknown one; the arm that supports us in failure;
the hand that crowns us in success; the comforter in our affliction; the
gay companion in our hours of pleasure; the lullaby of the infant; the
staff of old age; the secret treasure we lock up in our own hearts, and
which ever grows greater as we count it over. Let me not be told that the
coin is fictitious, and the gold not genuine; its clink is as musical to
the ear as though it bore the last impression of the mint, and I'm not the
man to cast an aspersion upon its value.

This little digression, however seemingly out of place, may serve to
illustrate what it might be difficult to convey in other words,--namely,
that if Charles O'Malley became, in his own estimation, a very considerable
personage that day at dinner, the fault lay not entirely with himself, but
with his friends, who told him he was such. In fact, my good reader, I was
the lion of the party, the man who saved Laborde, who charged through a
brigade of guns, who performed feats which newspapers quoted, though he
never heard of them himself. At no time is a man so successful in society
as when his reputation heralds him; and it needs but little conversational
eloquence to talk well, if you have but a willing and ready auditory. Of
mine, I could certainly not complain; and as, drinking deeply, I poured
forth a whole tide of campaigning recital, I saw the old colonels of
recruiting districts exchanging looks of wonder and admiration with
officers of the ordnance; while Sir George himself, evidently pleased at my
_debut_, went back to an early period of our acquaintance, and related the
rescue of his daughter in Galway.

In an instant the whole current of my thoughts was changed. My first
meeting with Lucy, my boyhood's dream of ambition, my plighted faith,
my thought of our last parting in Dublin, when, in a moment of excited
madness, I told my tale of love. I remembered her downcast look, as her
cheek now flushing, now growing pale, she trembled while I spoke. I thought
of her, as in the crash of battle her image flashed across my brain, and
made me feel a rush of chivalrous enthusiasm to win her heart by "doughty
deeds."

I forgot all around and about me. My head reeled, the wine, the excitement,
my long previous illness, all pressed upon me; and as my temples throbbed
loudly and painfully, a chaotic rush of discordant, ill-connected ideas
flitted across my mind. There seemed some stir and confusion in the room,
but why or wherefore I could not think, nor could I recall my scattered
senses, till Sir George Dashwood's voice roused me once again to
consciousness.

"We are going to have some coffee, O'Malley. Miss Dashwood expects us in
the drawing-room. You have not seen her yet?"

I know not my reply; but he continued:--

"She has some letters for you, I think."

I muttered something, and suffered him to pass on; no sooner had he done
so, however, than I turned towards the door, and rushed into the street.
The cold night air suddenly recalled me to myself, and I stood for a moment
endeavoring to collect myself; as I did so, a servant stopped, and saluting
me, presented me with a letter. For a second, a cold chill came over me; I
knew not what fear beset me. The letter, I at last remembered, must be that
one alluded to by Sir George, so I took it in silence, and walked on.




CHAPTER XII.


THE LETTER.

As I hurried to my quarters, I made a hundred guesses from whom the letter
could have come; a kind of presentiment told me that it bore, in some
measure, upon the present crisis of my life, and I burned with anxiety to
read it.

No sooner had I reached the light, than all my hopes on this head vanished;
the envelope bore the well-known name of my old college chum, Frank Webber,
and none could, at the moment, have more completely dispelled all chance
of interesting me. I threw it from me with disappointment, and sat moodily
down to brood over my fate.

At length, however, and almost without knowing it, I drew the lamp towards
me, and broke the seal. The reader being already acquainted with my amiable
friend, there is the less indiscretion in communicating the contents, which
ran thus:--


    TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN, No. 2,

    October 5, 1810.

    My Dear O'Malley,--Nothing short of your death and burial,
    with or without military honors, can possibly excuse your very
    disgraceful neglect of your old friends here. Nesbitt has never
    heard of you, neither has Smith. Ottley swears never to have seen
    your handwriting, save on the back of a protested bill. You have
    totally forgotten _me_, and the dean informs me that you have never
    condescended a single line to him; which latter inquiry on my part
    nearly cost me a rustication.

    A hundred conjectures to account for your silence--a new feature
    in you since you were here--are afloat. Some assert that your
    soldiering has turned your head, and that you are above corresponding
    with civilians. Your friends, however, who know you better and
    value your worth, think otherwise; and having seen a paragraph
    about a certain O'Malley being tried by court-martial for stealing a
    goose, and maltreating the woman that owned it, ascribe your not
    writing to other motives. Do, in any case, relieve our minds; say,
    is it yourself, or only a relative that's mentioned?
    Herbert came over from London with a long story about your
    doing wonderful things,--capturing cannon and general officers by
    scores,--but devil a word of it is extant; and if you have really
    committed these acts, they have "misused the king's press damnably,"
    for neither in the "Times" nor the "Post" are you heard of.
    Answer this point, and say also if you have got promotion; for what
    precise sign you are algebraically expressed by at this writing, may
    serve Fitzgerald for a fellowship question. As for us, we are jogging
    along, _semper eadem_,--that is, worse and worse. Dear Cecil
    Cavendish, our gifted friend, slight of limb and soft of voice, has
    been rusticated for immersing four bricklayers in that green
    receptacle of stagnant water and duckweed, yeleped the "Haha."
    Roper, equally unlucky, has taken to reading for honors, and obtained
    a medal, I fancy,--at least his friends shy him, and it must be
    something of that kind. Belson--poor Belson (fortunately for him he
    was born in the nineteenth, not the sixteenth century, or he'd be most
    likely ornamenting a pile of fagots) ventured upon some stray
    excursions into the Hebrew verbs,--the professor himself never having
    transgressed beyond the declensions, and the consequence is, he is
    in disgrace among the seniors. And as for me, a heavy charge hangs
    over my devoted head even while I write. The senior lecturer, it
    appears, has been for some time instituting some very singular
    researches into the original state of our goodly college at its
    founding. Plans and specifications showing its extent and magnificence
    have been continually before the board for the last month; and in such
    repute have been a smashed door-sill or an old arch, that freshmen
    have now abandoned conic sections for crowbars, and instead of the
    "Principia" have taken up the pickaxe. You know, my dear fellow,
    with what enthusiasm I enter into any scheme for the aggrandizement
    of our Alma Mater, so I need not tell you how ardently I
    adventured into the career now opened to me. My time was completely
    devoted to the matter; neither means nor health did I spare,
    and in my search for antiquarian lore, I have actually undermined
    the old wall of the fellows' garden, and am each morning in expectation
    of hearing that the big bell near the commons-hall has descended
    from its lofty and most noisy eminence, and is snugly reposing in
    the mud. Meanwhile accident put me in possession of a most
    singular and remarkable discovery. Our chambers--I call them
    ours for old association sake--are, you may remember, in the Old
    Square. Well, I have been fortunate enough, within the very precincts
    of my own dwelling, to contribute a very wonderful fact to the
    history of the University; alone, unassisted, unaided, I labored
    at my discovery. Few can estimate the pleasure I felt, the fame
    and reputation I anticipated. I drew up a little memoir for the
    board, most respectfully and civilly worded, having for title the
    following:--

    ACCOUNT
    Of a remarkable Subterranean Passage lately discovered in the
    Old Building of Trinity College, Dublin;
    With Observations upon its Extent, Antiquity, and Probable Use.
    By F. WEBBER, Senior Freshman.

    My dear O'Malley, I'll not dwell upon the pride I felt in my new
    character of antiquarian; it is enough to state, that my very
    remarkable tract was well considered and received, and a commission
    appointed to investigate the discovery, consisting of the
    vice-provost, the senior lecturer, old Woodhouse, the sub-dean, and
    a few more.

    On Tuesday last they came accordingly in full academic costume.
    I, being habited most accurately in the like manner, conducted
    them with all form into my bed-room, where a large screen concealed
    from view the entrance to the tunnel alluded to. Assuming a very
    John Kembleish attitude, I struck this down with one hand, pointing
    with the other to the wall, as I exclaimed, "There! look
    there!"

    I need only quote Barret's exclamation to enlighten you upon my
    discovery as, drawing in his breath with a strong effort, he burst
    out:--

    "May the Devil admire me, but it's a rat-hole!"

    I fear, Charley, he's right, and what's more, that the board will
    think so, for this moment a very warm discussion is going on among
    that amiable and learned body whether I shall any longer remain an
    ornament to the University. In fact, the terror with which they
    fled from my chambers, overturning each other in the passage,
    seemed to imply that they thought me mad, and I do believe my
    voice, look, and attitude would not have disgraced a blue cotton
    dressing-gown and a cell in "Swift's." Be this as it may, few men
    have done more for college than I have. The sun never stood still
    for Joshua with more resolution than I have rested in my career of
    freshman; and if I have contributed little to the fame, I have done
    much for the funds of the University; and when they come to compute
    the various sums I have paid in, for fines, penalties, and what
    they call properly "impositions," if they don't place a portrait of me
    in the examination hall, between Archbishop Ussher and Flood, then
    do I say there is no gratitude in mankind; not to mention the impulse
    I have given to the various artisans whose business it is to
    repair lamps, windows, chimneys, iron railings, and watchmen, all
    of which I have devoted myself to with an enthusiasm for political
    economy well known, and registered in the College Street police-office.

    After all, Charley, I miss you greatly. Your second in a ballad is
    not to be replaced; besides, Carlisle Bridge has got low; medical
    students and young attorneys affect minstrelsy, and actually frequent
    the haunts sacred to our muse.

    Dublin is, upon the whole, I think, worse; though one scarcely
    ever gets tired laughing at the small celebrities--


Master Frank gets here indiscreet, so I shall skip.

    And so the Dashwoods are going too; this will make mine a
    pitiable condition, for I really did begin to feel tender in that
    quarter. You may have heard that she refused me; this, however, is not
    correct, though I have little doubt it might have been,--had I
    asked her.

    Hammersley has, you know, got his dismissal. I wonder how the
    poor fellow took it when Power gave him back his letters and his
    picture. How _you_ are to be treated remains to be seen; in any
    case, you certainly stand first favorite.


I laid down the letter at this passage, unable to read farther. Here, then,
was the solution of the whole chaos of mystery; here the full explanation
of what had puzzled my aching brain for many a night long. These were the
very letters I had myself delivered into Hammersley's hands; this the
picture he had trodden to dust beneath his heel the morning of our meeting.
I now felt the reason of his taunting allusion to my "success," his cutting
sarcasm, his intemperate passion. A flood of light poured at once across
all the dark passages of my history; and Lucy, too,--dare I think of her! A
rapid thought shot through my brain. What if she had really cared for me!
What if for me she had rejected another's love! What if, trusting to my
faith, my pledged and sworn faith, she had given me her heart! Oh, the
bitter agony of that thought! To think that all my hopes were shipwrecked
with the very land in sight.

I sprang to my feet with some sudden impulse, but as I did so the blood
rushed madly to my face and temples, which beat violently; a parched and
swollen feeling came about my throat; I endeavored to open my collar
and undo my stock, but my disabled arm prevented me. I tried to call
my servant, but my utterance was thick and my words would not come; a
frightful suspicion crossed me that my reason was tottering. I made towards
the door; but as I did so, the objects around me became confused and
mingled, my limbs trembled, and I fell heavily upon the floor. A pang of
dreadful pain shot through me as I fell; my arm was rebroken. After this I
knew no more; all the accumulated excitement of the evening bore down with
one fell swoop upon my brain. Ere day broke, I was delirious.

I have a vague and indistinct remembrance of hurried and anxious faces
around my bed, of whispered words and sorrowful looks; but my own thoughts
careered over the bold hills of the far west as I trod them in my
boyhood, free and high of heart, or recurred to the din and crash of the
battle-field, with the mad bounding of the war-horse, and the loud clang of
the trumpet. Perhaps the acute pain of my swollen and suffering arm gave
the character to my mental aberration; for I have more than once observed
among the wounded in battle, that even when torn and mangled by grape
from a howitzer, their ravings have partaken of a high feature of
enthusiasm,--shouts of triumph and exclamations of pleasure, even
songs have I heard, but never once the low muttering of despair or the
half-stifled cry of sorrow and affliction.

Such were the few gleams of consciousness which visited me; and even to
such as these I soon became insensible.

Few like to chronicle, fewer still to read, the sad history of a sick-bed.
Of mine, I know but little. The throbbing pulses of the erring brain, the
wild fancies of lunacy, take no note of time. There is no past nor future;
a dreadful present, full of its hurried and confused impressions, is all
that the mind beholds; and even when some gleams of returning reason flash
upon the mad confusion of the brain, they come like sunbeams through a
cloud, dimmed, darkened, and perverted.

It is the restless activity of the mind in fever that constitutes its
most painful anguish; the fast-flitting thoughts that rush ever onwards,
crowding sensation on sensation, an endless train of exciting images
without purpose or repose; or even worse, the straining effort to pursue
some vague and shadowy conception which evades us ever as we follow, but
which mingles with all around and about us, haunting us at midnight as in
the noontime. Of this nature was a vision which came constantly before
me, till at length, by its very recurrence, it assumed a kind of real and
palpable existence; and as I watched it, my heart thrilled with the high
ardor of enthusiasm and delight, or sunk into the dark abyss of sorrow and
despair. "The dawning of morning, the daylight sinking," brought no other
image to my aching sight; and of this alone, of all the impressions of the
period, has my mind retained any consciousness.

Methought I stood within an old and venerable cathedral, where the dim
yellow light fell with a rich but solemn glow upon the fretted capitals,
or the grotesque tracings of the oaken carvings, lighting up the fading
gildings of the stately monuments, and tinting the varied hues of time-worn
banners. The mellow notes of a deep organ filled the air, and seemed to
attune the sense to all the awe and reverence of the place, where the very
footfall, magnified by its many echoes, seemed half a profanation. I stood
before an altar, beside me a young and lovely girl, whose bright brown
tresses waved in loose masses upon a neck of snowy whiteness; her hand,
cold and pale, rested within my own; we knelt together, not in prayer, but
a feeling of deep reverence stole over my heart, as she repeated some few
half-uttered words after me; I knew that she was mine. Oh, the ecstasy of
that moment, as, springing to my feet, I darted forward to press her to my
heart! When, suddenly, an arm was interposed between us, while a low but
solemn voice rang in my ears, "Stir not; for thou art false and traitorous,
thy vow a perjury, and thy heart a lie!" Slowly and silently the fair form
of my loved Lucy--for it was her--receded from my sight. One look, one last
look of sorrow--it was scarce reproach--fell upon me, and I sank back upon
the cold pavement, broken-hearted and forsaken.

This dream came with daybreak, and with the calm repose of evening; the
still hours of the waking night brought no other image to my eyes, and when
its sad influence had spread a gloom and desolation over my wounded heart,
a secret hope crept over me, that again the bright moment of happiness
would return, and once more beside that ancient altar I'd kneel beside my
bride, and call her mine.


For the rest, my memory retains but little; the kind looks which came
around my bedside brought but a brief pleasure, for in their affectionate
beaming I could read the gloomy prestige of my fate. The hurried but
cautious step, the whispered sentences, the averted gaze of those who
sorrowed for me, sunk far deeper into my heart than my friends then thought
of. Little do they think, who minister to the sick or dying, how each
passing word, each flitting glance is noted, and how the pale and stilly
figure which lies all but lifeless before them counts over the hours he has
to live by the smiles or tears around him!

Hours, days, weeks rolled over, and still my fate hung in the balance; and
while in the wild enthusiasm of my erring faculties, I wandered far in
spirit from my bed of suffering and pain, some well-remembered voice beside
me would strike upon my ear, bringing me back, as if by magic, to all the
realities of life, and investing my almost unconscious state with all the
hopes and fears about me.

One by one, at length, these fancies fled from me, and to the delirium of
fever succeeded the sad and helpless consciousness of illness, far, far
more depressing; for as the conviction of sense came back, the sorrowful
aspect of a dreary future came with it.




CHAPTER XIII.


THE VILLA.

The gentle twilight of an autumnal evening, calm, serene, and mellow, was
falling as I opened my eyes to consciousness of life and being, and looked
around me. I lay in a large and handsomely-furnished apartment, in which
the hand of taste was as evident in all the decorations as the unsparing
employment of wealth; the silk draperies of my bed, the inlaid tables, the
ormolu ornaments which glittered upon the chimney, were one by one so many
puzzles to my erring senses, and I opened and shut my eyes again and again,
and essayed by every means in my power to ascertain if they were not the
visionary creations of a fevered mind. I stretched out my hands to feel the
objects; and even while holding the freshly-plucked flowers in my grasp I
could scarce persuade myself that they were real. A thrill of pain at this
instant recalled me to other thoughts, and I turned my eyes upon my wounded
arm, which, swollen and stiffened, lay motionless beside me. Gradually, my
memory came back, and to my weak faculties some passages of my former
life were presented, not collectedly it is true, nor in any order, but
scattered, isolated scenes. While such thoughts flew past, my ever-rising
question to myself was, "Where am I now?" The vague feeling which illness
leaves upon the mind, whispered to me of kind looks and soft voices; and
I had a dreamy consciousness about me of being watched and cared for, but
wherefore, or by whom, I knew not.

From a partly open door which led into a garden, a mild and balmy air
fanned my temples and soothed my heated brow; and as the light curtain
waved to and fro with the breeze, the odor of the rose and the orange-tree
filled the apartment.

There is something in the feeling of weakness which succeeds to long
illness of the most delicious and refined enjoyment. The spirit emerging as
it were from the thraldom of its grosser prison, rises high and triumphant
above the meaner thoughts and more petty ambitions of daily life. Purer
feelings, more ennobling hopes succeed; and dreams of our childhood,
mingling with our promises for the future, make up an ideal existence
in which the low passions and cares of ordinary life enter not or are
forgotten. 'Tis then we learn to hold converse with ourselves; 'tis then we
ask how has our manhood performed the promises of its youth, or have our
ripened prospects borne out the pledges of our boyhood? 'Tis then, in
the calm justice of our lonely hearts, we learn how our failures are but
another name for our faults, and that what we looked on as the vicissitudes
of fortune are but the fruits of our own vices. Alas, how short-lived are
such intervals! Like the fitful sunshine in the wintry sky, they throw one
bright and joyous tint over the dark landscape: for a moment the valley and
the mountain-top are bathed in a ruddy glow; the leafless tree and the dark
moss seem to feel a touch of spring; but the next instant it is past; the
lowering clouds and dark shadows intervene, and the cold blast, the moaning
wind, and the dreary waste are once more before us.

I endeavored to recall the latest events of my career, but in vain; the
real and the visionary were inextricably mingled, and the scenes of my
campaigns were blended with hopes and fears and doubts which had no
existence save in my dreams. My curiosity to know where I was grew now my
strongest feeling, and I raised myself with one arm to look around me. In
the room all was still and silent, but nothing seemed to intimate what I
sought for. As I looked, however, the wind blew back the curtain which
half-concealed the sash-door, and disclosed to me the figure of a man
seated at a table; his back was towards me, but his broad sombrero hat
and brown mantle bespoke his nation; the light blue curl of smoke
which wreathed gently upwards, and the ample display of long-necked,
straw-wrapped flasks, also attested that he was enjoying himself with true
Peninsular gusto, having probably partaken of a long siesta.

It was a perfect picture in its way of the indolent luxury of the
South,--the rich and perfumed flowers, half-closing to the night air, but
sighing forth a perfumed _buonas noches_ as they betook themselves to rest;
the slender shadows of the tall shrubs, stretching motionless across the
walks; the very attitude of the figure himself was in keeping as supported
by easy chairs he lounged at full length, raising his head ever and anon as
if to watch the wreath of eddying smoke as it rose upwards from his cigar
and melted away in the distance.

[Illustration: MR. FREE TURNED SPANIARD.]

"Yes", thought I, as I looked for some time, "such is the very type of his
nation. Surrounded by every luxury of climate, blessed with all that earth
can offer of its best and fairest, and yet only using such gifts as mere
sensual gratifications." Starting with this theme, I wove a whole story for
the unknown personage whom, in my wandering fancy, I began by creating
a grandee of Portugal, invested with rank honors, and riches; but who,
effeminated by the habits and usages of his country, had become the mere
idle voluptuary, living a life of easy and inglorious indolence. My further
musings were interrupted at this moment for the individual to whom I
had been so complimentary in my revery, slowly arose from his recumbent
position, flung his loose mantle carelessly across his left shoulder, and
pushing open the sash-door, entered my chamber. Directing his steps to a
large mirror, he stood for some minutes contemplating himself with what,
from his attitude, I judged to be no small satisfaction. Though his back
was still towards me, and the dim twilight of the room too uncertain to see
much, yet I could perceive that he was evidently admiring himself in the
glass. Of this fact I had soon the most complete proof; for as I looked,
he slowly raised his broad-leafed Spanish hat with an air of most imposing
pretension, and bowed reverently to himself.

"_Come sta vostra senoria?_" said he.

The whole gesture and style of this proceeding struck me as so ridiculous,
that in spite of all my efforts I could scarcely repress a laugh. He turned
quickly round and approached the bed. The deep shadow of the sombrero
darkened the upper part of his features, but I could distinguish a pair of
fierce-looking mustaches beneath, which curled upwards towards his eyes,
while a stiff point beard stuck straight from his chin. Fearing lest my
rude interruption had been overheard, I was framing some polite speech in
Portuguese, when he opened the dialogue by asking in that language how I
did.

I replied, and was about to ask some questions relative to where, and
under whose protection I then was, when my grave-looking friend, giving a
pirouette upon one leg, sent his hat flying into the air, and cried out in
a voice that not even my memory could fail to recognize,--

"By the rock of Cashel he's cured!--he's cured!--the fever's over! Oh,
Master Charles, dear! oh, Master, darling, and you ain't mad, after all?"

"Mad! no, faith! but I shrewdly suspect you must be."

"Oh, devil a taste! But spake to me, honey; spake to me, acushla!"

"Where am I? Whose house is this? What do you mean by that disguise, that
beard--"

"Whisht, I'll tell you all, av you have patience? But are you cured? Tell
me that first. Sure they was going to cut the arm off you, till you got out
of bed, and with your pistols, sent them flying, one out of the window and
the other down-stairs; and I bate the little chap with the saw myself till
he couldn't know himself in the glass."

While Mike ran on at this rate, I never took my eyes from him, and it was
all my poor faculties were equal to, to convince myself that the whole
scene was not some vision of a wandering intellect. Gradually, however, the
well-known features recalled me to myself, and as my doubts gave way at
length, I laughed long and heartily at the masquerade absurdity of his
appearance.

Mike, meanwhile, whose face expressed no small mistrust at the sincerity of
my mirth, having uncloaked himself, proceeded to lay aside his beard and
mustaches, saying, as he did so,--

"There now, darling; there now, Master, dear,--don't be grinning that
way,--I'll not be a Portigee any more, av you'll be quiet and listen to
reason."

"But, Mike, where am I? Answer me that one question."

"You're at home, dear; where else would you be?"

"At home?" said I, with a start, as my eye ranged over the various articles
of luxury and elegance around, so unlike the more simple and unpretending
features of my uncle's house,--"at home?"

"Ay, just so; sure, isn't it the same thing. It's ould Don Emanuel that
owns it; and won't it be your own when you're married to that lovely
crayture herself?"

I started up, and placing my hand upon my throbbing temples, asked myself
if I were really awake, or if some flight of fancy had not carried me away
beyond the bounds of reason and sense. "Go on, go on!" said I, at length,
in a hollow voice, anxious to gather from his words something like a clew
to this mystery. "How did this happen?"

"Av ye mean how you came here, faith, it was just this way. After you got
the fever, and beat the doctors, devil a one would go near you but myself
and the major."

"The major,--Major Monsoon?"

"No, Major Power himself. Well, he told your friends up here how it was
going very hard with you, and that you were like to die; and the same
evening they sent down a beautiful litter, as like a hearse as two peas,
for you, and brought you up here in state,--devil a thing was wanting but
a few people to raise the cry to make it as fine a funeral as ever I seen.
And sure, I set up a whillilew myself in the Black Horse Square, and the
devils only laughed at me.

"Well, you see they put you into a beautiful, elegant bed, and the young
lady herself sat down beside you, betune times fanning you with a big
fan, and then drying her eyes, for she was weeping like a waterfall. 'Don
Miguel,' says she to me,--for ye see, I put your cloak on by mistake when I
was leaving the quarters,--'Don Miguel, questa hidalgo e vostro amigo?'

"'My most particular friend,' says I; 'God spare him many years to be so.'

"'Then take up your quarters here,' says she, 'and don't leave him; we'll
do everything in our power to make you comfortable.'

"'I'm not particular,' says I; 'the run of the house--'

"Then this is the Villa Nuova?" said I, with a faint sigh.

"The same," replied Mike; "and a sweet place it is for eating and
drinking,--for wine in buckets full, av ye axed for it, for dancing and
singing every evening, with as pretty craytures as ever I set eyes upon.
Upon my conscience, it's as good as Galway; and good manners it is they
have. What's more, none of your liberties or familiarities with strangers;
but it's Don Miguel, devil a less. 'Don Miguel, av it's plazing to you to
take a drop of Xeres before your meat?' or, 'Would you have a shaugh of a
pipe or cigar when you're done?' That's the way of it."

"And Sir George Dashwood," said I, "has he been here? Has he inquired for
me?"

"Every day either himself or one of the staff comes galloping up at
luncheon time to ask after you; and then they have a bit of tender
discourse with the senhora herself. Oh, devil a bit need ye fear them,
she's true blue; and it isn't the major's fault,--upon my conscience it
isn't,--for he does be coming the blarney over her in beautiful style."

"Does Miss Dashwood ever visit here?" said I, with a voice faltering and
uncertain enough to have awakened suspicion in a more practised observer.

"Never once; and that's what I call unnatural behavior, after you saving
her life; and if she wasn't--"

"Be silent, I say."

"Well, well, there, I won't say any more; and sure it's time for me to be
putting on my beard again. I'm going to the Casino with Catrina, and sure
it's with real ladies I might be going av it wasn't for Major Power, that
told them I wasn't a officer; but it's all right again. I gave them a great
history of the Frees from the time of Cuilla na Toole, that was one of the
family and a cousin of Moses, I believe; and they behave well to one that
comes from an ould stock."

"Don Miguel! Don Miguel!" said a voice from the garden.

"I'm coming, my angel! I'm coming, my turtle-dove!" said Mike, arranging
his mustaches and beard with amazing dexterity. "Ah, but it would do your
heart good av you could take a peep at us about twelve o'clock, dancing
'Dirty James' for a bolero, and just see Miss Catrina, the lady's maid,
doing 'cover the buckle' as neat as Nature. There now, there's the lemonade
near your hand, and I'll leave you the lamp, and you may go asleep as soon
as you please, for Miss Inez won't come in to-night to play the guitar, for
the doctor said it might do you harm now."

So saying, and before I could summon presence of mind to ask another
question, Don Miguel wrapped himself in the broad folds of his Spanish
cloak, and strode from the room with the air of an hidalgo.

I slept but little that night; the full tide of memory, rushing in upon me,
brought back the hour of my return to Lisbon and the wreck of all my hopes,
which from the narrative of my servant I now perceived to be complete. I
dare not venture upon recording how many plans suggested themselves to my
troubled spirit, and were in turn rejected. To meet Lucy Dashwood; to make
a full and candid declaration; to acknowledge that flirtation alone with
Donna Inez (a mere passing, boyish flirtation) had given the coloring to
my innocent passion, and that in heart and soul I was hers, and hers
only,--this was my first resolve; but alas! if I had not courage to sustain
a common interview, to meet her in the careless crowd of a drawing-room,
what could I do under circumstances like these? Besides, the matter would
be cut very short by her coolly declaring that she had neither right nor
inclination to listen to such a declaration. The recollection of her look
as she passed me to her carriage came flashing across my brain and decided
this point. No, no! I'll not encounter that; however appearances for the
moment had been against me, she should not have treated me thus coldly and
disdainfully. It was quite clear she had never cared for me,--wounded pride
had been her only feeling; and so as I reasoned I ended by satisfying
myself that in that quarter all was at end forever.

Now then for dilemma number two, I thought. The senhora, my first impulse
was one of anything but gratitude to her by whose kind, tender care my
hours of pain and suffering had been soothed and alleviated. But for her,
I should have been spared all my present embarrassment, all my shipwrecked
fortunes; but for her I should now be the aide-de-camp residing in Sir
George Dashwood's own house, meeting with Lucy every hour of the day,
dining beside her, riding out with her, pressing my suit by every means and
with every advantage of my position; but for her and her dark eyes--and,
by-the-bye, what eyes they are! how full of brilliancy, yet how teeming
with an expression of soft and melting sweetness; and her mouth, too,
how perfectly chiselled those full lips,--how different from the cold,
unbending firmness of Miss Dashwood's! Not but I have seen Lucy smile too,
and what a sweet smile! How it lighted up her fair cheek, and made her blue
eyes darken and deepen till they looked like heaven's own vault. Yes, there
is more poetry in a blue eye. But still Inez is a very lovely girl, and
her foot never was surpassed. She is a coquette, too, about that foot and
ankle,--I rather like a woman to be so. What a sensation she would make in
England; how she would be the rage! And then I thought of home and Galway,
and the astonishment of some, the admiration of others, as I presented her
as my wife,--the congratulations of my friends, the wonder of the men, the
tempered envy of the women. Methought I saw my uncle, as he pressed her in
his arms, say, "Yes, Charley, this is a prize worth campaigning for."

The stray sounds of a guitar which came from the garden broke in upon my
musings at this moment. It seemed as if a finger was straying heedlessly
across the strings. I started up, and to my surprise perceived it was Inez.
Before I had time to collect myself, a gentle tap at the window aroused me;
it opened softly, while from an unseen hand a bouquet of fresh flowers was
thrown upon my bed. Before I could collect myself to speak, the sash closed
again and I was alone.




CHAPTER XIV.


THE VISIT.

Mike's performances at the masquerade had doubtless been of the most
distinguished character, and demanded a compensating period of repose, for
he did not make his appearance the entire morning. Towards noon, however,
the door from the garden gently opened, and I heard a step upon the stone
terrace, and something which sounded to my ears like the clank of a sabre.
I lifted my head, and saw Fred Power beside me.

I shall spare my readers the recital of my friend, which, however, more
full and explanatory of past events, contained in reality little more than
Mickey Free had already told me. In fine, he informed me that our army, by
a succession of retreating movements, had deserted the northern provinces,
and now occupied the intrenched lines of Torres Vedras. That Massena, with
a powerful force, was still in march, reinforcements daily pouring in
upon him, and every expectation pointing to the probability that he would
attempt to storm our position.

"The wise-heads," remarked Power, "talk of our speedy embarkation, the
sanguine and the hot-brained rave of a great victory and the retreat of
Massena; but I was up at headquarters last week with despatches, and saw
Lord Wellington myself."

"Well, what did you make out? Did he drop any hint of his own views?"

"Faith, I can't say he did. He asked me some questions about the troops
just landed; he spoke a little of the commissary department, damned the
blankets, said that green forage was bad food for the artillery horses,
sent me an English paper to read about the O. P. riots, and said the
harriers would throw off about six o'clock, and that he hoped to see me at
dinner."

I could not restrain a laugh at Power's catalogue of his lordship's topics.
"So," said I, "he at least does not take any gloomy views of our present
situation."

"Who can tell what he thinks? He's ready to fight if fighting will do
anything, and to retreat, if that be better. But that he'll sleep an hour
less, or drink a glass of claret more--come what will of it--I'll believe
from no man living.

"We've lost one gallant thing in any case, Charley," resumed Power. "Busaco
was, I'm told, a glorious day, and our people were in the heat of it. So
that, if we do leave the Peninsula now, that will be a confounded chagrin.
Not for you, my poor fellow, for you could not stir; but I was so cursed
foolish to take the staff appointment,--thus one folly ever entails
another."

There was a tone of bitterness in which these words were uttered that left
no doubt upon my mind some _arriere pensee_ remained lurking behind them.
My eyes met his; he bit his lip, and coloring deeply, rose from the chair,
and walked towards the window.

The chance allusion of my man Mike flashed upon me at the moment, and I
dared not trust myself to break silence. I now thought I could trace in my
friend's manner less of that gay and careless buoyancy which ever marked
him. There was a tone, it seemed, of more grave and sombre character, and
even when he jested, the smile his features bore was not his usual frank
and happy one, and speedily gave way to an expression I had never before
remarked. Our silence which had now lasted for some minutes was becoming
embarrassing; that strange consciousness that, to a certain extent, we were
reading each other's thoughts, made us both cautious of breaking it; and
when at length, turning abruptly round, he asked, "When I hoped to be up
and about again?" I felt my heart relieved from I knew not well what load
of doubt and difficulty that oppressed it. We chatted on for some little
time longer, the news of Lisbon, and the daily gossip finishing our topics.

"Plenty of gayety, Charley, dinners and balls to no end! so get well, my
boy, and make the most of it."

"Yes," I replied, "I'll do my best; but be assured the first use I'll make
of health will be to join the regiment. I am heartily ashamed of myself for
all I have lost already,--though not altogether my fault."

"And will you really join at once?" said Power, with a look of eager
anxiety I could not possibly account for.

"Of course I will; what have I, what can I have to detain me here?"

What reply he was about to make at this moment I know not, but the door
opened, and Mike announced Sir George Dashwood.

"Gently, my worthy man, not so loud, if you please?" said the mild voice of
the general, as he stepped noiselessly across the room, evidently shocked
at the indiscreet tone of my follower. "Ah, Power, you here! and our poor
friend, how is he?"

"Able to answer for himself at last, Sir George," said I, grasping his
proffered hand.

"My poor lad! you've had a long bout of it; but you've saved your arm, and
that's well worth the lost time. Well, I've come to bring you good news;
there's been a very sharp cavalry affair, and our fellows have been the
conquerors."

"There again, Power,--listen to that! We are losing everything!"

"Not so, not so, my boy," said Sir George, smiling blandly, but archly.
"There are conquests to be won here, as well as there; and in your present
state, I rather think you better fitted for such as these."

Power's brow grew clouded; he essayed a smile, but it failed, and he rose
and hurried towards the window.

As for me, my confusion must have led to a very erroneous impression of my
real feelings, and I perceived Sir George anxious to turn the channel of
the conversation.

"You see but little of your host, O'Malley," he resumed; "he is ever from
home; but I believe nothing could be kinder than his arrangements for you.
You are aware that he kidnapped you from us? I had sent Forbes over to
bring you to us; your room was prepared, everything in readiness, when he
met your man Mike, setting forth upon a mule, who told him you had just
taken your departure for the villa. We both had our claim upon you and, I
believe, pretty much on the same score. By-the-bye, you have not seen Lucy
since your arrival. I never knew it till yesterday, when I asked if she did
not find you altered."

I blundered out some absurd reply, blushed, corrected myself, and got
confused. Sir George attributing this, doubtless, to my weak state, rose
soon after, and taking Power along with him, remarked as he left the
room,--

"We are too much for him yet, I see that; so we'll leave him quiet some
time longer."

Thanking him in my heart for his true appreciation of my state, I sank back
upon my pillow to think over all I had heard and seen.

"Well, Mister Charles," said Mike as he came forward with a smile, "I
suppose you heard the news? The Fourteenth bate the French down at Merca
there, and took seventy prisoners; but sure it's little good it'll do,
after all."

"And why not, Mike?"

"Musha! isn't Boney coming himself? He's bringing all the Roossians down
with him, and going to destroy us entirely."

"Not at all, man; you mistake. He's nothing to do with Russia, and has
quite enough on his hands at this moment."

"God grant it was truth you were talking! But, you see, I read it myself in
the papers (or Sergeant Haggarty did, which is the same thing) that he's
coming with the Cusacks."

"With who?--with what?"

"With the Cusacks."

"What the devil do you mean? Who are they?"

"Oh, Tower of Ivory! did you never hear of the Cusacks, with the red beards
and the red breeches and long poles with pike-heads on them, that does all
the devilment on horseback,--spiking and spitting the people like larks?"

"The Cossacks, is it, you mean? The Cossacks?"

"Ay, just so, the Cusacks. They're from Clare Island, and thereabouts; and
there's more of them in Meath. They're my mother's people, and was always
real devils for fighting."

I burst out into an immoderate fit of laughing at Mike's etymology, which
thus converted Hetman Platoff into a Galway man.

"Oh, murder! isn't it cruel to hear you laugh that way! There now, alanna!
be asy, and I'll tell you more news. We've the house to ourselves to-day.
The ould gentleman's down at Behlem, and the daughter's in Lisbon, making
great preparations for a grand ball they're to give when you are quite
well."

"I hope I shall be with the army in a few days, Mike; and certainly, if I'm
able to move about, I'll not remain longer in Lisbon."

"Arrah, don't say so, now! When was you ever so comfortable? Upon my
conscience, it's more like Paradise than anything else. If ye see the
dinner we sit down to every day; and as for drink,--if it wasn't that I
sleep on a ground-floor, I'd seldom see a blanket!"

"Well, certainly, Mike, I agree with you, these are hard things to tear
ourselves away from."

"Aren't they now, sir? And then Miss Catherine, I'm taching her Irish!"

"Teaching her Irish! for Heaven's sake, what use can she make of Irish?"

"Ah, the crayture, she doesn't know better; and as she was always bothering
me to learn her English, I promised one day to do it; but ye see, somehow,
I never was very proficient in strange tongues; so I thought to myself
Irish will do as well. So, you perceive, we're taking a course of Irish
literature, as Mr. Lynch says in Athlone; and, upon my conscience, she's an
apt scholar."

"'Good-morning to you, Katey,' says Mr. Power to her the other day, as he
passed through the hall. 'Good-morning, my dear; I hear you speak English
perfectly now?'

"'_Honia mon diaoul_,' says she, making a curtsey.

"Be the powers, I thought he'd die with the laughing.

"'Well, my dear, I hope you don't mean it,--do you know what you're
saying?'

"'Honor bright, Major!' says I,--'honor bright!' and I gave him a wink at
the same time.

"'Oh, that's it!' said he, 'is it!' and so he went off holding his hands to
his sides with the bare laughing; and your honor knows it wasn't a blessing
she wished him, for all that."




CHAPTER XV.


THE CONFESSION.

"What a strange position this of mine!" thought I, a few mornings after
the events detailed in the last chapter. "How very fascinating in some
respects, how full of all the charm of romance, and how confoundly
difficult to see one's way through!"

To understand my cogitation right, _figurez-vous_, my dear reader, a large
and splendidly furnished drawing-room, from one end of which an orangery
in full blossom opens; from the other is seen a delicious little boudoir,
where books, bronzes, pictures and statues, in all the artistique disorder
of a lady's sanctum, are bathed in a deep purple light from a stained glass
window of the seventeenth century.

On a small table beside the wood fire, whose mellow light is flirting with
the sunbeams upon the carpet, stands an antique silver breakfast-service,
which none but the hand of Benvenuto could have chiselled; beside it sits
a girl, young and beautiful; her dark eyes, beaming beneath their long
lashes, are fixed with an expression of watchful interest upon a pale and
sickly youth, who, lounging upon a sofa opposite, is carelessly turning
over the leaves of a new journal, or gazing steadfastly on the fretted
gothic of the ceiling, while his thoughts are travelling many a mile away.
The lady being the Senhora Inez; the nonchalant invalid, your unworthy
acquaintance, Charles O'Malley.

What a very strange position to be sure.

"Then you are not equal to this ball to-night?" said she, after a pause of
some minutes.

I turned as she spoke; her words had struck audibly upon my ear, but, lost
in my revery, I could but repeat my own fixed thought,--how strange to be
so situated!

"You are really very tiresome, Signor; I assure you, you are. I have
been giving you a most elegant description of the Casino _fete_, and the
beautiful costume of our Lisbon belles, but I can get nothing from you but
this muttered something, which may be very shocking for aught I know. I'm
sure your friend, Major Power, would be much more attentive to me; that
is," added she, archly, "if Miss Dashwood were not present."

"What! why! You don't mean that there is anything there--that Tower is
paying attention to--"

"_Madre divina_, how that seems to interest you, and how red you are! If it
were not that you never met her before, and that your acquaintance did not
seem to make rapid progress, then I should say you are in love with her
yourself."

I had to laugh at this, but felt my face flushing more. "And so," said I,
affecting a careless and indifferent tone, "the gay Fred Power is smitten
at last!"

"Was it so very difficult a thing to accomplish?" said she, slyly.

"He seems to say so, at least. And the lady, how does she appear to receive
his attentions?"

"Oh, I should say with evident pleasure and satisfaction, as all girls do
the advances of men they don't care for, nor intend to care for."

"Indeed," said I, slowly, "indeed, Senhora?" looking into her eyes as I
spoke, as if to read if the lesson were destined for my benefit.

"There, don't stare so!--every one knows that."

"So you don't think, then, that Lucy,--I mean Miss Dashwood--Why are you
laughing so?"

"How can I help it; your calling her Lucy is so good, I wish she heard it;
she's the very proudest girl I ever knew."

"But to come back; you really think she does not care for him?"

"Not more than for you; and I may be pardoned for the simile, having seen
your meeting. But let me give you the news of our own _fete_. Saturday is
the day fixed; and you must be quite well,--I insist upon it. Miss Dashwood
has promised to come,--no small concession; for after all she has never
once been here since the day you frightened her. I can't help laughing at
my blunder,--the two people I had promised myself should fall desperately
in love with each other, and who will scarcely meet."

"But I trusted," said I, pettishly, "that you were not disposed to resign
your own interest in me?"

"Neither was I," said she, with an easy smile, "except that I have so many
admirers. I might even spare to my friends; though after all I should be
sorry to lose you, I like you."

"Yes," said I half bitterly, "as girls do those they never intend to care
for; is it not so?"

"Perhaps, yes, and perhaps--But is it going to rain? How provoking! and I
have ordered my horse. Well, Signor Carlos, I leave you to your delightful
newspaper, and all the magnificent descriptions of battles and sieges and
skirmishes of which you seem doomed to pine without ceasing. There, don't
kiss my hand twice; that's not right."

"Well, let me begin again--"

"I shall not breakfast with you any more. But tell me, am I to order a
costume for you in Lisbon; or will you arrange all that yourself? You must
come to the _fete_, you know."

"If you would be so very kind."

"I will, then, be so very kind; and once more, _adios_." So saying, and
with a slight motion of her hand, she smiled a good-by, and left me.

"What a lovely girl!" thought I, as I rose and walked to the window,
muttering to myself Othello's line, and--

    "When I love thee not, chaos is come again."

In fact, it was the perfect expression of my feeling; the only solution
to all the difficulties surrounding me, being to fall desperately,
irretrievably in love with the fair senhora, which, all things considered,
was not a very desperate resource for a gentleman in trouble. As I thought
over the hopelessness of one attachment, I turned calmly to consider all
the favorable points of the other. She was truly beautiful, attractive in
every sense; her manner most fascinating, and her disposition, so far as
I could pronounce, perfectly amiable. I felt already something more than
interest about her; how very easy would be the transition to a stronger
feeling! There was an _eclat_, too, about being her accepted lover that had
its charm. She was the belle _par excellence_ of Lisbon; and then a sense
of pique crossed my mind as I reflected what would Lucy say of him whom
she had slighted and insulted, when he became the husband of the beautiful
millionnaire Senhora Inez?

As my meditations had reached thus far, the door opened stealthily, and
Catherine appeared, her finger upon her lips, and her gesture indicating
caution. She carried on her arm a mass of drapery covered by a large
mantle, which throwing off as she entered, she displayed before me a rich
blue domino with silver embroidery. It was large and loose in its folds, so
as thoroughly to conceal the figure of any wearer. This she held up before
me for an instant without speaking; when at length, seeing my curiosity
fully excited, she said,--

"This is the senhora's domino. I should be ruined if she knew I showed it;
but I promised--that is, I told--"

"Yes, yes, I understand," relieving her embarrassment about the source of
her civilities; "go on."

"Well, there are several others like it, but with this small difference,
instead of a carnation, which all the others have embroidered upon the
cuff, I have made it a rose,--you perceive? La Senhora knows nothing of
this,--none save yourself knows it. I'm sure I may trust you with the
secret."

"Fear not in the least, Catherine; you have rendered me a great service.
Let me look at it once more; ah, there's no difficulty in detecting it. And
you are certain she is unaware of it?"

"Perfectly so; she has several other costumes, but in this one I know she
intends some surprise, so be upon your guard."

With these words, carefully once more concealing the rich dress beneath the
mantle, she withdrew; while I strolled forth to wonder what mystery might
lie beneath this scheme, and speculate how far I myself was included in the
plot she spoke of.

For the few days which succeeded, I passed my time much alone. The senhora
was but seldom at home; and I remarked that Power rarely came to see me. A
strange feeling of half-coolness had latterly grown between us, and instead
of the open confidence we formerly indulged in when together, we appeared
now rather to chat over things of mere every-day interest than of our own
immediate plans and prospects. There was a kind of pre-occupation, too, in
his manner that struck me; his mind seemed ever straying from the topics he
talked of to something remote, and altogether, he was no longer the frank
and reckless dragoon I had ever known him. What could be the meaning of
this change? Had he found out by any accident that I was to blame in my
conduct towards Lucy; had any erroneous impression of my interview with her
reached his ears? This was most improbable; besides, there was nothing in
that to draw down his censure or condemnation, however represented; and was
it that he was himself in love with her, that, devoted heart and soul to
Lucy, he regarded me as a successful rival, preferred before him! Oh, how
could I have so long blinded myself to the fact! This was the true solution
of the whole difficulty. I had more than once suspected this to be so; now
all the circumstances of proof poured in upon me. I called to mind his
agitated manner the night of my arrival in Lisbon, his thousand questions
concerning the reasons of my furlough; and then, lately, the look of
unfeigned pleasure with which he heard me resolve to join my regiment the
moment I was sufficiently recovered. I remembered also how assiduously he
pressed his intimacy with the senhora, Lucy's dearest friend here; his
continual visits at the villa; those long walks in the garden, where his
very look betokened some confidential mission of the heart. Yes, there was
no doubt of it, he loved Lucy Dashwood! Alas, there seemed to be no end to
the complication of my misfortunes; one by one I appeared fated to lose
whatever had a hold upon my affections, and to stand alone, unloved and
uncared for in the world. My thoughts turned towards the senhora, but
I could not deceive myself into any hope there. My own feelings were
untouched, and hers I felt to be equally so. Young as I was, there was no
mistaking the easy smile of coquetry, the merry laugh of flattered vanity,
for a deeper and holier feeling. And then I did not wish it otherwise. One
only had taught me to feel how ennobling, how elevating in all its impulses
can be a deep-rooted passion for a young and beautiful girl! From her
eyes alone had I caught the inspiration that made me pant for glory and
distinction. I could not transfer the allegiance of my heart, since it had
taught that very heart to beat high and proudly. Lucy, lost to me forever
as she must be, was still more than any other woman ever could be; all the
past clung to her memory, all the prestige of the future must point to it
also.

And Power, why had he not trusted, why had he not confided in me? Was this
like my old and tried friend? Alas! I was forgetting that in his eye I was
the favored rival, and not the despised, rejected suitor.

"It is past now," thought I, as I rose and walked into the garden; "the
dream that made life a fairy tale is dispelled; the cold reality of the
world is before me, and my path lies a lonely and solitary one." My first
resolution was to see Power, and relieve his mind of any uneasiness as
regarded my pretentions; they existed no longer. As for me, I was no
obstacle to his happiness; it was, then, but fair and honorable that I
should tell him so; this done, I should leave Lisbon at once. The cavalry
had for the most part been ordered to the rear; still there was always
something going forward at the outposts.

The idea of active service, the excitement of a campaigning life, cheered
me, and I advanced along the dark alley of the garden with a lighter and a
freer heart. My resolves were not destined to meet delay; as I turned the
angle of a walk, Power was before me. He was leaning against a tree, his
hands crossed upon his bosom, his head bowed forward, and his whole air and
attitude betokening deep reflection.

He started as I came up, and seemed almost to change color.

"Well, Charley," said he, after a moment's pause, "you look better this
morning. How goes the arm?"

"The arm is ready for service again, and its owner most anxious for it. Do
you know, Fred, I'm thoroughly weary of this life."

"They're little better, however, at the lines. The French are in position,
but never adventure a movement; and except some few affairs at the pickets,
there is really nothing to do."

"No matter, remaining here can never serve one's interests, and besides, I
have accomplished what I came for--"

I was about to add, "the restoration of my health," when he suddenly
interrupted me, eying me fixedly as he spoke.

"Indeed! indeed! Is that so?"

"Yes," said I, half puzzled at the tone and manner of the speech; "I can
join now when I please; meanwhile, Fred, I have been thinking of you. Yes,
don't be surprised, at the very moment we met you were in my thoughts."

I took his arm as I said this, and led him down the alley.

"We are too old and, I trust, too true friends, Fred, to have secrets from
each other, and yet we have been playing this silly game for some weeks
past. Now, my dear fellow, I have yours, and it is only fair justice you
should have mine, and, faith, I feel you'd have discovered it long since,
had your thoughts been as free as I have known them to be. Fred, you are in
love; there, don't wince, man, I know it; but hear me out. You believe me
to be so also; nay, more, you think that my chances of success are better,
stronger than your own; learn, then, that I have none,--absolutely none.
Don't interrupt me now, for this avowal cuts me deeply; my own heart alone
knows what I suffer as I record my wrecked fortunes; but I repeat it, my
hopes are at end forever; but, Fred, my boy, I cannot lose my friend too.
If I have been the obstacle to your path, I am so no more. Ask me not why;
it is enough that I speak in all truth and sincerity. Ere three days I
shall leave this, and with it all the hopes that once beamed upon my
fortunes, and all the happiness,--nay, not all, my boy, for I feel some
thrill at my heart yet, as I think that I have been true to you."

I know not what more I spoke nor how he replied to me. I felt the warm
grasp of his hand, I saw his delighted smile; the words of grateful
acknowledgment his lips uttered conveyed but an imperfect meaning to my
ear, and I remembered no more.

The courage which sustained me for the moment sank gradually as I meditated
over my avowal, and I could scarce help accusing Power of a breach of
friendship for exacting a confession which, in reality, I had volunteered
to give him. How Lucy herself would think of my conduct was ever occurring
to my thoughts, and I felt, as I ruminated upon the conjectures it might
give rise to, how much more likely a favorable opinion might now be formed
of me, than when such an estimation could have crowned me with delight.

"Yes," thought I, "she will at last learn to know him who loved her with
truth and with devoted affection; and when the blight of all his hopes is
accomplished, the fair fame of his fidelity will be proved. The march,
the bivouac, the battle-field, are now all to me; and the campaign alone
presents a prospect which may fill up the aching void that disappointed and
ruined hopes have left behind them."

How I longed for the loud call of the trumpet, the clash of the steel, the
tramp of the war-horse; though the proud distinction of a soldier's life
were less to me in the distance than the mad and whirlwind passion of a
charge, and the loud din of the rolling artillery.

It was only some hours after, as I sat alone in my chamber, that all the
circumstances of our meeting came back clearly to my memory, and I could
not help muttering to myself,--

"It is indeed a hard lot, that to cheer the heart of my friend, I must bear
witness to the despair that shed darkness on my own."




CHAPTER XVI.


MY CHARGER.

Although I felt my heart relieved of a heavy load by the confession I had
made to Power, yet still I shrank from meeting him for some days after;
a kind of fear lest he should in any way recur to our conversation
continually beset me, and I felt that the courage which bore me up for my
first effort would desert me on the next occasion.

My determination to join my regiment was now made up, and I sent forward a
resignation of my appointment to Sir George Dashwood's staff, which I
had never been in health to fulfil, and commenced with energy all my
preparations for a speedy departure.

The reply to my rather formal letter was a most kind note written by
himself. He regretted the unhappy cause which had so long separated us, and
though wishing, as he expressed it, to have me near him, perfectly approved
of my resolution.

    "Active service alone, my dear boy, can ever place you in the
    position you ought to occupy; and I rejoice the more at your decision
    in this matter, as I feared the truth of certain reports here,
    which attributed to you other plans than those which a campaign
    suggests. My mind is now easy on this score, and I pray you forgive
    me if my congratulations are _mal a propos_."

After some hints for my future management, and a promise of some letters to
his friends at headquarters, he concluded:--

    "As this climate does not seem to suit my daughter, I have
    applied for a change, and am in daily hope of obtaining it. Before
    going, however, I must beg your acceptance of the charger which my
    groom will deliver to your servant with this. I was so struck with
    his figure and action that I purchased him before leaving England
    without well knowing why or wherefore. Pray let him see some
    service under your auspices, which he is most unlikely to do under
    mine. He has plenty of bone to be a weight carrier, and they tell
    me also that he has speed enough for anything."

Mike's voice in the lawn beneath interrupted my reading farther, and on
looking out, I perceived him and Sir George Dashwood's servant standing
beside a large and striking-looking horse, which they were both examining
with all the critical accuracy of adepts.

"Arrah, isn't he a darling, a real beauty, every inch of him?"

"That 'ere splint don't signify nothing; he aren't the worse of it," said
the English groom.

"Of coorse it doesn't," replied Mike. "What a fore-hand, and the legs,
clean as a whip!"

"There's the best of him, though," interrupted the other, patting the
strong hind-quarters with his hand. "There's the stuff to push him along
through heavy ground and carry him over timber."

"Or a stone wall," said Mike, thinking of Galway.

My own impatience to survey my present had now brought me into the
conclave, and before many minutes were over I had him saddled, and was
cantering around the lawn with a spirit and energy I had not felt for
months long. Some small fences lay before me, and over these he carried me
with all the ease and freedom of a trained hunter. My courage mounted with
the excitement, and I looked eagerly around for some more bold and dashing
leap.

"You may take him over the avenue gate," said the English groom, divining
with a jockey's readiness what I looked for; "he'll do it, never fear him."

Strange as my equipment was, with an undress jacket flying loosely open,
and a bare head, away I went. The gate which the groom spoke of was a
strongly-barred one of oak timber, nearly five feet high,--its difficulty
as a leap only consisted in the winding approach, and the fact that it
opened upon a hard road beyond it.

In a second or two a kind of half fear came across me. My long illness had
unnerved me, and my limbs felt weak and yielding; but as I pressed into the
canter, that secret sympathy between the horse and his rider shot suddenly
through me, I pressed my spurs to his flanks, and dashed him at it.

Unaccustomed to such treatment, the noble animal bounded madly forward.
With two tremendous plunges he sprang wildly in the air, and shaking his
long mane with passion, stretched out at the gallop.

[Illustration: CHARLEY TRYING A CHARGER.]

My own blood boiled now as tempestuously as his; and with a shout of
reckless triumph, I rose him at the gate. Just at the instant two figures
appeared before it,--the copse had concealed their approach hitherto,--but
they stood now as if transfixed. The wild attitude of the horse, the not
less wild cry of his rider, had deprived them for a time of all energy; and
overcome by the sudden danger, they seemed rooted to the ground. What I
said, spoke, begged, or imprecated, Heaven knows--not I. But they stirred
not! One moment more and they must lie trampled beneath my horse's
hoofs,--he was already on his haunches for the bound,--when, wheeling half
aside, I faced him at the wall. It was at least a foot higher and of solid
stone masonry, and as I did so I felt that I was perilling my life to save
theirs. One vigorous dash of the spur I gave him, as I lifted him to the
leap. He bounded beneath it quick as lightning; still, with a spring like
a rocket, he rose into the air, cleared the wall, and stood trembling and
frightened on the road outside.

"Safe, by Jupiter! and splendidly done, too," cried a voice near me, that I
immediately recognized as Sir George Dashwood's.

"Lucy, my love, look up,--Lucy, my dear, there's no danger now. She has
fainted! O'Malley, fetch some water,--fast. Poor fellow, your own nerves
seem shaken. Why, you've let your horse go! Come here, for Heaven's sake!
Support her for an instant. I'll fetch some water."

It appeared to me like a dream; I leaned against the pillar of the gate;
the cold and death-like features of Lucy Dashwood lay motionless upon my
arm; her hand, falling heavily upon my shoulder, touched my cheek. The
tramp of my horse, as he galloped onward, was the only sound that broke the
silence, as I stood there, gazing steadfastly upon the pale brow and paler
cheek, down which a solitary tear was slowly stealing. I knew not how the
minutes passed; my memory took no note of time, but at length a gentle
tremor thrilled her frame, a slight, scarce-perceptible blush colored her
fair face, her lips slightly parted, and heaving a deep sigh, she looked
around her. Gradually her eyes turned and met mine. Oh, the bliss
unutterable of that moment! It was no longer the look of cold scorn she had
given me last; the expression was one of soft and speaking gratitude. She
seemed to read my very heart, and know its truth; there was a tone of deep
and compassionate interest in the glance; and forgetting all,--everything
that had passed,--all save my unaltered, unalterable love, I kneeled beside
her, and in words burning as my own heart burned, poured out my tale
of mingled sorrow and affection with all the eloquence of passion. I
vindicated my unshaken faith,--reconciling the conflicting evidences with
the proofs I proffered of my attachment. If my moments were measured, I
spent them not idly. I called to witness how every action of my soldier's
life emanated from her; how her few and chance words had decided the
character of my fate; if aught of fame or honor were my portion, to her I
owed it. As, hurried onwards by my ardent hopes, I forgot Power and all
about him, a step up the gravel walk came rapidly nearer, and I had but
time to assume my former attitude beside Lucy as her father came up.

"Well, Charley, is she better? Oh, I see she is. Here, we have the whole
household at our heels." So saying, he pointed to a string of servants
pressing eagerly forward with every species of restorative that Portuguese
ingenuity has invented.

The next moment we were joined by the senhora, who, pale with fear, seemed
scarcely less in need of assistance than her friend.

Amidst questions innumerable; explanations sought for on all sides;
mistakes and misconceptions as to the whole occurrence,--we took our way
towards the villa, Lucy walking between Sir George and Donna Inez, while I
followed, leaning upon Power's arm.

"They've caught him again, O'Malley," said the general, turning half round
to me; "he, too, seemed as much frightened as any of us."

"It is time, Sir George, I should think of thanking you. I never was so
mounted in my life--"

"A splendid charger, by Jove!" said Power; "but, Charley, my lad, no more
feats of this nature, if you love me. No girl's heart will stand such
continual assaults as your winning horsemanship submits it to."

I was about making some half-angry reply, when he continued: "There, don't
look sulky; I have news for you. Quill has just arrived. I met him at
Lisbon; he has got leave of absence for a few days, and is coming to our
masquerade here this evening."

"This evening!" said I, in amazement; "why, is it so soon?"

"Of course it is. Have you not got all your trappings ready? The Dashwoods
came out here on purpose to spend the day; but come, I'll drive you into
town. My tilbury is ready, and we'll both look out for our costumes." So
saying, he led me along towards the house, when, after a rapid change of my
toilet, we set out for Lisbon.




CHAPTER XVII.


MAURICE.

It seemed a conceded matter between Power and myself that we should never
recur to the conversation we held in the garden; and so, although we dined
_tete-a-tete_ that day, neither of us ventured, by any allusion the most
distant, to advert to what it was equally evident was uppermost in the
minds of both.

All our endeavors, therefore, to seem easy and unconcerned were in vain;
a restless anxiety to seem interested about things and persons we were
totally indifferent to, pervaded all our essays at conversation. By
degrees, we grew weary of the parts we were acting, and each relapsed
into a moody silence, thinking over his plans and projects, and totally
forgetting the existence of the other.

The decanter was passed across the table without speaking, a half nod
intimated the bottle was standing; and except an occasional malediction
upon an intractable cigar, nothing was heard.

Such was the agreeable occupation we were engaged in, when, towards nine
o'clock, the door opened, and the great Maurice himself stood before us.

"Pleasant fellows, upon my conscience, and jovial over their liquor!
Confound your smoking! That may do very well in a bivouac. Let us have
something warm!"

Quill's interruption was a most welcome one to both parties, and we
rejoiced with a sincere pleasure at his coming.

"What shall it be, Maurice? Port or sherry mulled, and an anchovy?"

"Or what say you to a bowl of bishop?" said I.

"Hurrah for the Church, Charley! Let us have the bishop; and not to
disparage Fred's taste, we'll be eating the anchovy while the liquor's
concocting."

"Well, Maurice, and now for the news. How are matters at Torres Vedras?
Anything like movement in that quarter?"

"Nothing very remarkable. Massena made a reconnoissance some days since,
and one of our batteries threw a shower of grape among the staff, which
spoiled the procession, and sent them back in very disorderly time. Then
we've had a few skirmishes to the front with no great results,--a few
courts-martial, bad grub, and plenty of grumbling."

"Why, what would they have? It's a great thing to hold the French army in
check within a few marches of Lisbon."

"Charley, my man, who cares twopence for the French army or Lisbon or the
Portuguese or the Junta or anything about it?--every man is pondering over
his own affairs. One fellow wants to get home again, and be sent upon some
recruiting station. Another wishes to get a step or two in promotion, to
come to Torres Vedras, where even the _grande armee_ can't. Then some of us
are in love, and some of us are in debt. Their is neither glory nor profit
to be had. But here's the bishop, smoking and steaming with an odor of
nectar!"

"And our fellows, have you seen them lately?"

"I dined with yours on Tuesday. Was it Tuesday? Yes. I dined with them.
By-the-bye, Sparks was taken prisoner that morning."

"Sparks taken prisoner! Poor fellow. I am sincerely sorry. How did it
happen, Maurice?"

"Very simply. Sparks had a forage patrol towards Vieda, and set out early
in the morning with his party. It seemed that they succeeded perfectly, and
were returning to the lines, when poor Sparks, always susceptible where the
sex are concerned, saw, or thought he saw, a lattice gently open as he rode
from the village, and a very taper finger make a signal to him. Dropping a
little behind the rest, he waited till his men had debouched upon the road,
when riding quietly up, he coughed a couple of times to attract the fair
unknown; a handkerchief waved from the lattice in reply, which was speedily
closed, and our valiant cornet accordingly dismounted and entered the
house.

"The remainder of the adventure is soon told; for in a few seconds after,
two men mounted on one horse were seen galloping at top speed towards the
French lines,--the foremost being a French officer of the 4th Cuirassiers,
the gentleman with his face to the tail, our friend Sparks; the lovely
unknown being a _vieille moustache_ of Loison's corps, who had been
wounded in a skirmish some days before, and lay waiting an opportunity of
rejoining his party. One of our prisoners knew this fellow well; he had
been promoted from the ranks, and was a Hercules for feats of strength; so
that, after all, Sparks could not help himself."

"Well, I'm really sorry; but as you say, Sparks's tender nature is always
the ruin of him."

"Of him! ay, and of you; and of Power; and of myself; of all of us. Isn't
it the sweet creatures that make fools of us from Father Adam down to
Maurice Quill, neither sparing age nor rank in the service, half-pay nor
the veteran battalion--it's all one? Pass the jug, there. O'Shaughnessy--"

"Ah, by-the-bye, how's the major?"

"Charmingly; only a little bit in a scrape just now. Sir Arthur--Lord
Wellington, I mean--had him up for his fellows being caught pillaging, and
gave him a devil of a rowing a few days ago.

"'Very disorderly corps yours, Major O'Shaughnessy,' said the general;
'more men up for punishment than any regiment in the service.'

"Shaugh muttered something; but his voice was lost in a loud
cock-a-doo-do-doo, that some bold chanticleer set up at the moment.

"'If the officers do their duty, Major O'Shaughnessy, these acts of
insubordination do not occur.'

"'Cock-a-doo-do-doo,' was the reply. Some of the staff found it hard not to
laugh; but the general went on,--

"'If, therefore, the practice does not cease, I'll draft the men into West
India regiments.'

"'Cock-a-doo-do-doo.'

"'And if any articles pillaged from the inhabitants are detected in the
quarters, or about the person of the troops--'

"'Cock-a-doo-do-_doo_,' screamed louder here than ever.

"'Damn that cock! Where is it?'

"There was a general look around on all sides, which seemed in vain; when
a tremendous repetition of the cry resounded from O'Shaughnessy's coat
pocket,--thus detecting the valiant major himself in the very practice of
his corps. There was no standing this: every one burst out into a peal of
laughing; and Lord Wellington himself could not resist, but turned away,
muttering to himself as he went, 'Damned robbers--every man of them!' while
a final war-note from the major's pocket closed the interview."

"Confound you, Maurice, you've always some villanous narrative or other.
You never crossed a street for shelter without making something out of it."

"True this time, as sure as my name's Maurice; but the bowl is empty."

"Never mind, here comes its successor. How long can you stay among us?"

"A few days at most. Just took a run off to see the sights. I was all over
Lisbon this morning; saw the Inquisition and the cells and the place where
they tried the fellows,--the kind of grand jury room with the great picture
of Adam and Eve at the end of it. What a beautiful creature she is; hair
down to her waist, and such eyes! 'Ah, ye darling!' said I to myself,
'small blame to him for what he did. Wouldn't I ate every crab in the
garden, if ye asked me!'"

"I must certainly go to see her, Maurice. Is she very Portuguese in her
style?"

"Devil a bit of it! She might be a Limerick-woman with elegant brown hair
and blue eyes and a skin like snow."

"Come, come, they've pretty girls in Lisbon too, Doctor."

"Yes, faith," said Power, "that they have."

"Nothing like Ireland, boys; not a bit of it; they're the girls for my
money; and where's the man can resist them? From Saint Patrick, that had to
go and live in the Wicklow mountains--"

"Saint Kevin, you mean, Doctor."

"Sure it's all the same, they were twins. I made a little song about them
one evening last week,--the women I mean."

"Let us have it, Maurice; let us have it, old fellow. What's the measure?"

"Short measure; four little verses, devil a more!"

"But the time, I mean?"

"Whenever you like to sing it; here it is,"--

    THE GIRLS OF THE WEST.

    Air,--"_Teddy, ye Gander_."

    (_With feeling: but not too slow_.)

    You may talk, if you please,
    Of the brown Portuguese,
    But wherever you roam, wherever you roam,
    You nothing will meet,
    Half so lovely or sweet,
    As the girls at home, the girls at home.

    Their eyes are not sloes,
    Nor so long is their nose,
    But between me and you, between me and you,
    They are just as alarming,
    And ten times more charming,
    With hazel and blue, with hazel and blue.

    They don't ogle a man,
    O'er the top of their fan
    Till his heart's in a flame, till his heart's in a flame
    But though bashful and shy,
    They've a look in their eye
    That just comes to the same, just comes to the same.

    No mantillas they sport,
    But a petticoat short
    Shows an ankle the best, an ankle the best,
    And a leg--but, O murther!
    I dare not go further;
    So here's to the west, so here's to the west.

"Now that really is a sweet little thing. Moore's isn't it?"

"Not a bit of it; my own muse, every word of it."

"And the music?" said I.

"My own, too. Too much spice in that bowl; that's an invariable error in
your devisers of drink, to suppose that the tipple you start with can
please your palate to the last; they forget that as we advance, either in
years or lush, our tastes simplify."

"_Nous revenons a nos premieres amours_. Isn't that it?"

"No, not exactly, for we go even further; for if you mark the progression
of a sensible man's fluids, you'll find what an emblem of life it presents
to you. What is his initiatory glass of 'Chablis' that he throws down with
his oysters but the budding expectancy of boyhood,--the appetizing sense of
pleasure to come; then follows the sherry with his soup, that warming glow
which strength and vigor in all their consciousness impart, as a glimpse of
life is opening before him. Then youth succeeds--buoyant, wild, tempestuous
youth--foaming and sparkling like the bright champagne whose stormy surface
subsides into a myriad of bright stars."

"_Oeil de perdrix_."

"Not a bit of it; woman's own eye, brilliant, sparkling, life-giving--"

"Devil take the fellow, he's getting poetical!"

"Ah, Fred! if that could only last; but one must come to the burgundies
with his maturer years. Your first glass of hermitage is the algebraic sign
for five-and-thirty,--the glorious burst is over; the pace is still good,
to be sure, but the great enthusiasm is past. You can afford to look
forward, but confound it, you've along way to look back also."

"I say, Charley, our friend has contrived to finish the bishop during his
disquisition; the bowl's quite empty."

"You don't say so, Fred. To be sure, how a man does forget himself in
abstract speculations; but let us have a little more, I've not concluded my
homily."

"Not a glass, Maurice; it's already past nine. We are all pledged to
the masquerade, and before we've dressed and got there, 't will be late
enough."

"But I'm not disguised yet, my boy, nor half."

"Well, they must take you _au naturel_, as our countrymen do their
potatoes."

"Yes, Doctor, Fred's right; we had better start."

"Well, I can't help it; I've recorded my opposition to the motion, but I
must submit; and now that I'm on my legs, explain to me what's that very
dull-looking old lamp up there?"

"That's the moon, man; the full moon."

"Well, I've no objection; I'm full too: so come along, lads."




CHAPTER XVIII.


THE MASQUERADE.

To form one's impression of a masked ball from the attempts at this mode
of entertainment in our country, is but to conceive a most imperfect and
erroneous notion. With us, the first _coup d'oeil_ is everything; the
nuns, the shepherdesses, the Turks, sailors, eastern princes, watchmen,
moonshees, milestones, devils, and Quakers are all very well in their way
as they pass in the review before us, but when we come to mix in the
crowd, we discover that, except the turban and the cowl, the crook and
the broad-brim, no further disguise is attempted or thought of. The nun,
forgetting her vow and her vestments, is flirting with the devil; the
watchman, a very fastidious elegant, is ogling the fishwomen through his
glass; while the Quaker is performing a _pas seul_ Alberti might be proud
of, in a quadrille of riotous Turks and half-tipsy Hindoos; in fact, the
whole wit of the scene consists in absurd associations. Apart from this,
the actors have rarely any claims upon your attention; for even supposing
a person clever enough to sustain his character, whatever it be, you must
also supply the other personages of the drama, or, in stage phrase, he'll
have nothing to "play up to." What would be Bardolph without Pistol; what
Sir Lucius O'Triuger without Acres? It is the relief which throws out the
disparities and contradictions of life that afford us most amusement; hence
it is that one swallow can no more make a summer, than one well-sustained
character can give life to a masquerade. Without such sympathies, such
points of contact, all the leading features of the individual, making him
act and be acted upon, are lost; the characters being mere parallel lines,
which, however near they approach, never bisect or cross each other.

This is not the case abroad: the domino, which serves for mere concealment,
is almost the only dress assumed, and the real disguise is therefore thrown
from necessity upon the talents, whatever they be, of the wearer. It is
no longer a question of a beard or a spangled mantle, a Polish dress or
a pasteboard nose; the mutation of voice, the assumption of a different
manner, walk, gesture, and mode of expression, are all necessary, and no
small tact is required to effect this successfully.

I may be pardoned this little digression, as it serves to explain in some
measure how I felt on entering the splendidly lit up _salons_ of the
villa, crowded with hundreds of figures in all the varied costumes of a
carnival,--the sounds of laughter mingled with the crash of the music;
the hurrying hither and thither of servants with refreshments; the crowds
gathered around fortune-tellers, whose predictions threw the parties
at each moment into shouts of merriment; the eager following of some
disappointed domino, interrogating every one to find out a lost mask.
For some time I stood an astonished spectator at the kind of secret
intelligence which seemed to pervade the whole assemblage, when suddenly a
mask, who for some time had been standing beside me, whispered in French,--

"If you pass your time in this manner, you must not feel surprised if your
place be occupied."

I turned hastily round, but she was gone. She, I say, for the voice was
clearly a woman's; her pink domino could be no guide, for hundreds of the
same color passed me every instant. The meaning of the allusion I had
little doubt of. I turned to speak to Power, but he was gone; and for the
first moment of my life, the bitterness of rivalry crossed my mind. It was
true I had resigned all pretensions in his favor. My last meeting with Lucy
had been merely to justify my own character against an impression that
weighed heavily on me; still, I thought he might have waited,--another day
and I should be far away, neither to witness nor grieve over his successes.

"You still hesitate," whispered some one near me.

I wheeled round suddenly, but could not detect the speaker, and was again
relapsing into my own musings, when the same voice repeated,--

"The white domino with the blue cape. Adieu."

Without waiting to reflect upon the singularity of the occurrence, I now
hurried along through the dense crowd, searching on every side for the
domino.

"Isn't that O'Malley?" said an Englishman to his friend.

"Yes," replied the other; "the very man we want. O'Malley, find a partner;
we have been searching a _vis-a-vis_ this ten minutes."

The speaker was an officer I had met at Sir George Dashwood's. "How did you
discover me?" said I, suddenly.

"Not a very difficult thing if you carry your mask in your hand that way,"
was the answer.

And I now perceived that in the distraction of my thoughts I had been
carrying my mask in this manner since my coming into the room.

"There now, what say you to the blue domino? I saw her foot, and a girl
with such an instep must be a waltzer."

I looked round, a confused effort at memory passing across my mind; my eyes
fell at the instant upon the embroidered sleeve of the domino, where a
rosebud worked in silver at once reminded me of Catrina's secret. "Ah,"
thought I, "La Senhora herself!" She was leaning upon the arm of a tall and
portly figure in black; who this was I knew not, nor sought to discover,
but at once advancing towards Donna Inez asked her to waltz.

Without replying to me she turned towards her companion, who seemed as it
were to press her acceptance of my offer; she hesitated, however, for an
instant, and curtsying deeply, declined it. "Well," thought I, "she at
least has not recognized me."

"And yet, Senhora," said I, half jestingly, "I _have_ seen you join a
bolero before now."

"You evidently mistake me," was the reply, but in a voice so well feigned
as almost to convince me she was right.

"Nay, more," said I, "under your own fair auspices did I myself first
adventure one."

"Still in error, believe me; I am not known to you."

"And yet I have a talisman to refresh your memory, should you dare me
further."

At this instant my hand was grasped warmly by a passing mask. I turned
round rapidly, and Power whispered in my ear,--

"Yours forever, Charley; you've made my fortune."

As he hurried on I could perceive that he supported a lady on his arm, and
that she wore a loose white domino with a deep blue cape. In a second all
thought of Inez was forgotten, and anxious only to conceal my emotion, I
turned away and mingled in the crowd. Lost to all around me, I wandered
carelessly, heedlessly on, neither noticing the glittering throng around,
nor feeling a thought in common with the gay and joyous spirits that
flitted by. The night wore on, my melancholy and depression growing ever
deeper, yet so spell-bound was I that I could not leave the place. A
secret sense that it was the last time we were to meet had gained entire
possession of me, and I longed to speak a few words ere we parted forever.

I was leaning on a window which looked out upon the courtyard, when
suddenly the tramp of horses attracted my attention, and I saw by the
clear moonlight a group of mounted men, whose long cloaks and tall helmets
announced dragoons, standing around the porch. At the same moment the
door of the _salon_ opened, and an officer in undress, splashed and
travel-stained, entered. Making his way rapidly through the crowd, he
followed the servant, who introduced him towards the supper-room. Thither
the dense mass now pressed to learn the meaning of the singular apparition;
while my own curiosity, not less excited, led me towards the door. As
I crossed the hall, however, my progress was interrupted by a group of
persons, among whom I saw an aide-de-camp of Lord Wellington's staff,
narrating, as it were, some piece of newly-arrived intelligence. I had
no time for further inquiry, when a door opened near me, and Sir George
Dashwood, accompanied by several general officers, came forth, the officer
I had first seen enter the ball-room along with them. Every one was by this
unmasked, and eagerly looking to hear what had occurred.

"Then, Dashwood, you'll send off an orderly at once?" said an old general
officer beside me.

"This instant, my Lord. I'll despatch an aide-de-camp. The troops shall be
in marching order before noon. Oh, here's the man I want! O'Malley, come
here. Mount your horse and dash into town. Send for Brotherton and M'Gregor
to quarters, and announce the news as quickly as possible."

"But what am I to announce, Sir George?"

"That the French are in retreat,--Massena in retreat, my lad."

A tremendous cheer at this instant burst from the hundreds in the
_salon_, who now heard the glorious tidings. Another cheer and another
followed,--ten thousand _vivas_ rose amidst the crash of the band, as it
broke into a patriotic war chant. Such a scene of enthusiasm and excitement
I never witnessed. Some wept with joy. Others threw themselves into their
friends' arms.

"They're all mad, every mother's son of them!" said Maurice Quill, as he
elbowed his way through the mass; "and here's an old vestal won't leave my
arm. She has already embraced me three times, and we've finished a flask of
Malaga between us."

"Come, O'Malley, are you ready for the road?"

My horse was by this time standing saddled at the front. I sprang at once
to the saddle, and without waiting for a second order, set out for Lisbon.
Ten minutes had scarce elapsed,--the very shouts of joy of the delighted
city were still ringing in my ears,--when I was once again back at the
villa. As I mounted the steps into the hall, a carriage drew up,--it was
Sir George Dashwood's. He came forward, his daughter leaning upon his arm.

"Why, O'Malley, I thought you had gone."

"I have returned, Sir George. Colonel Brotherton is in waiting, and the
staff also. I have received orders to set out for Benejos, where the 14th
are stationed, and have merely delayed to say adieu."

"Adieu, my dear boy, and God bless you!" said the warm-hearted old man, as
he pressed my hand between both his. "Lucy, here's your old friend about to
leave; come and say good-by."

Miss Dashwood had stopped behind to adjust her shawl. I flew to her
assistance. "Adieu, Miss Dashwood, and forever!" said I, in a broken voice,
as I took her hand in mine. "This is not your domino," said I, eagerly, as
a blue silk one peeped from beneath her mantle; "and the sleeve, too,--did
you wear this?" She blushed slightly, and assented.

"I changed with the senhora, who wore mine all the evening."

"And Power, then, was not your partner?"

"I should think not,--for I never danced."

"Lucy, my love, are you ready? Come, be quick."

"Good-by, Mr. O'Malley, and _au revoir, n'est-ce pas?_"

I drew her glove from her hand as she spoke, and pressing my lips upon her
fingers, placed her within the carriage. "Adieu, and _au revoir!_" said I.
The carriage turned away, and a white glove was all that remained to me of
Lucy Dashwood!

The carriage had turned the angle of the road, and its retiring sounds were
growing gradually fainter, ere I recovered myself sufficiently to know
where I stood. One absorbing thought alone possessed me. Lucy was not lost
to me forever; Power was not my rival in that quarter,--that was enough for
me. I needed no more to nerve my arm and steel my heart. As I reflected
thus, the long loud blast of a trumpet broke upon the silence of the
night, and admonished me to depart. I hurried to my room to make my few
preparations for the road; but Mike had already anticipated everything
here, and all was in readiness.

But one thing now remained,--to make my adieu to the senhora. With this
intent, I descended a narrow winding stair which led from my dressing-room,
and opened by a little terrace upon the flower-garden beside her
apartments.

As I crossed the gravelled alley, I could not but think of the last time I
had been there. It was on the eve of departure for the Douro. I recalled
the few and fleeting moments of our leave-taking, and a thought flashed
upon me,--what if she cared for me! What if, half in coquetry, half in
reality, her heart was mixed up in those passages which daily association
gives rise to?

I could not altogether acquit myself of all desire to make her believe me
her admirer; nay, more, with the indolent _abandon_ of my country, I had
fallen into a thousand little schemes to cheat the long hours away, which,
having no other object than the happiness of the moment, might yet color
all her after-life with sorrow.

Let no one rashly pronounce me a coxcomb, vain and pretentious, for all
this. In my inmost heart I had no feeling of selfishness mingled with the
consideration. It was from no sense of my own merits, no calculation of my
own chances of success, that I thought thus. Fortunately, at eighteen one's
heart is uncontaminated with such an alloy of vanity. The first emotions of
youth are pure and holy things, tempering our fiercer passions, and calming
the rude effervescence of our boyish spirit; and when we strive to please,
and hope to win affection, we insensibly fashion ourselves to nobler and
higher thoughts, catching from the source of our devotion a portion of that
charm that idealizes daily life, and makes our path in it a glorious and a
bright one.

Who would not exchange all the triumph of his later days, the proudest
moments of successful ambition, the richest trophies of hard-won
daring,--for the short and vivid flash that first shot through his heart
and told him he was loved. It is the opening consciousness of life, the
first sense of power that makes of the mere boy a man,--a man in all his
daring and his pride; and hence it is that in early life we feel ever prone
to indulge those fancied attachments which elevate and raise us in our own
esteem. Such was the frame of my mind when I entered the little boudoir
where once before I had ventured on a similar errand.

As I closed the sash-door behind me, the gray dawn of breaking day scarcely
permitted my seeing anything around me, and I felt my way towards the door
of an adjoining room, where I supposed it was likely I should find the
senhora. As I proceeded thus, with cautious step and beating heart, I
thought I heard a sound near me. I stopped and listened, and was about
again to move on, when a half-stifled sob fell upon my ear. Slowly and
silently guiding my steps towards the sounds, I reached a sofa, when, my
eyes growing by degrees more accustomed to the faint light, I could detect
a figure which, at a glance, I recognized as Donna Inez. A cashmere shawl
was loosely thrown around her, and her face was buried in her hands. As she
lay, to all seeming, still and insensible before me, her beautiful hair
fell heavily upon her back and across her arm, and her whole attitude
denoted the very abandonment of grief. A short convulsive shudder which
slightly shook her frame alone gave evidence of life, except when a sob,
barely audible in the death-like silence, escaped her.

I knelt silently down beside her, and gently withdrawing her hand, placed
it within mine. A dreadful feeling of self-condemnation shot through me as
I felt the gentle pressure of her taper fingers, which rested without a
struggle in my grasp. My tears fell hot and fast upon that pale hand, as
I bent in sadness over it, unable to utter a word. A rush of conflicting
thoughts passed through my brain, and I knew not what to do. I now had no
doubt upon my mind that she loved me, and that her present affliction was
caused by my approaching departure.

"Dearest Inez!" I stammered out at length, as I pressed her hands to my
lips,--"dearest Inez!"--a faint sob, and a slight pressure of her hand, was
the only reply. "I have come to say good-by," continued I, gaining a little
courage as I spoke; "a long good-by, too, in all likelihood. You have heard
that we are ordered away,--there, don't sob, dearest, and, believe me, I
had wished ere we parted to have spoken to you calmly and openly; but,
alas, I cannot,--I scarcely know what I say."

"You will not forget me?" said she, in a low voice, that sank into my very
heart. "You will not forget me?" As she spoke, her hand dropped heavily
upon my shoulder, and her rich luxuriant hair fell upon my cheek. What a
devil of a thing is proximity to a downy cheek and a black eyelash, more
especially when they belong to one whom you are disposed to believe not
indifferent to you! What I did at this precise moment there is no necessity
for recording, even had not an adage interdicted such confessions, nor can
I now remember what I said; but I can well recollect how, gradually warming
with my subject, I entered into a kind of half-declaration of attachment,
intended most honestly to be a mere _expose_ of my own unworthiness to win
her favor, and my resolution to leave Lisbon and its neighborhood forever.

Let not any one blame me rashly if he has not experienced the difficulty of
my position. The impetus of love-making is like the ardor of a fox-hunt.
You care little that the six-bar gate before you is the boundary of another
gentleman's preserves or the fence of his pleasure-ground. You go slap
along at a smashing-pace, with your head up, and your hand low, clearing
all before you, the opposing difficulties to your progress giving half
the zest, because all the danger to your career. So it is with love; the
gambling spirit urges one ever onward, and the chance of failure is a
reason for pursuit, where no other argument exists.

"And you do love me?" said the senhora, with a soft, low whisper that most
unaccountably suggested anything but comfort to me.

"Love you, Inez? By this kiss--I'm in an infernal scrape!" said I,
muttering this last half of my sentence to myself.

"And you'll never be jealous again?"

"Never, by all that's lovely!--your own sweet lips. That's the very last
thing to reproach me with."

"And you promise me not to mind that foolish boy? For, after all, you know,
it was mere flirtation,--if even that."

"I'll never think of him again," said I, while my brain was burning to make
out her meaning. "But, dearest, there goes the trumpet-call--"

"And, as for Pedro Mascarenhas, I never liked him."

"Are you quite sure, Inez?"

"I swear it!--so no more of him. Gonzales Cordenza--I've broke with him
long since. So that you see, dearest Frederic--"

"Frederic!" said I, starting almost to my feet with, amazement, while she
continued:--

"I'm your own,--all your own!"

"Oh, the coquette, the heartless jilt!" groaned I, half-aloud.

"And O'Malley, Inez, poor Charley!--what of him?"

"Poor thing! I can't help him. But he's such a puppy, the lesson may do him
good."

"But perhaps he loved you, Inez?"

"To be sure he did; I wished him to do so,--I can't bear not to be loved.
But, Frederic, tell me, may I trust you,--will you keep faithful to me?"

"Sweetest Inez! by this last kiss I swear that such as I kneel before you
now, you'll ever find me."

A foot upon the gravel-walk without now called me to my feet; I sprang
towards the door, and before Inez had lifted her head from the sofa, I had
reached the garden. A figure muffled in a cavalry cloak passed near me, but
without noticing me, and the next moment I had cleared the paling, and was
hurrying towards the stable, where I had ordered Mike to be in waiting.

The faint streak of dull pink which announces the coming day stretched
beneath the dark clouds of the night, and the chill air of the morning was
already stirring in the leaves.

As I passed along by a low beech hedge which skirted the avenue, I was
struck by the sound of voices near me. I stopped to listen, and soon
detected in one of the speakers my friend Mickey Free; of the other I was
not long in ignorance.

"Love you, is it, bathershin? It's worship you, adore you, my
darling,--that's the word! There, acushla, don't cry; dry your eyes--Oh,
murther, it's a cruel thing to tear one's self away from the best of
living, with the run of the house in drink and kissing! Bad luck to it for
campaigning, any way, I never liked it!"

Catrina's reply,--for it was she,--I could not gather; but Mike resumed:--

"Ay, just so, sore bones and wet grass, _accadente_, and half-rations. Oh,
that I ever saw the day when I took to it! Listen to me now, honey; here it
is, on my knees I am before you, and throth it's not more nor three, may be
four, young women I'd say the like to; bad scran to me if I wouldn't marry
you out of a face this blessed morning just as soon as I'd look at ye.
Arrah, there now, don't be screeching and bawling; what'll the neighbors
think of us, and my own heart's destroyed with grief entirely."

Poor Catrina's voice returned an inaudible answer, and not wishing any
longer to play the eavesdropper, I continued my path towards the stable.
The distant noises from the city announced a state of movement and
preparation, and more than one orderly passed the road near me at a gallop.
As I turned into the wide courtyard, Mike, breathless and flurried with
running, overtook me.

"Are the horses ready, Mike?" said I; "we must start this instant?"

"They've just finished a peck of oats apiece, and faix, that same may be a
stranger to them this day six months."

"And the baggage, too?"

"On the cars, with the staff and the light brigade. It was down there I was
now, to see all was right."

"Oh, I'm quite aware; and now bring out the cattle. I hope Catrina received
your little consolations well. That seems a very sad affair."

"Murder, real murder, devil a less! It's no matter where you go, from
Clonmel to Chayney, it's all one; they've a way of getting round you. Upon
my soul, it's like the pigs they are."

"Like pigs, Mike? That appears a strange compliment you've selected to pay
them."

"Ay, just like the pigs, no less. May be you've heard what happened to
myself up at Moronha?"

"Look to that girth there. Well, go on."

"I was coming along one morning, just as day was beginning to break, when I
sees a slip of a pig trotting before me, with nobody near him; but as the
road was lonely, and myself rather down in heart, I thought, Musha! but yer
fine company, anyhow, av a body could only keep you with him. But, ye see,
a pig--saving your presence--is a baste not easily flattered, so I didn't
waste time and blarney upon him, but I took off my belt, and put it round
its neck as neat as need be; but, as the devil's luck would have it, I
didn't go half an hour when a horse came galloping up behind me. I turned
round, and, by the blessed light, it was Sir Dinny himself was on it!"

"Sir Dennis Pack?"

"Yes, bad luck to his hook nose. 'What are you doing there, my fine
fellow?' says he. 'What's that you have dragging there behind you?'

"'A boneen, sir,' says I. 'Isn't he a fine crayture?--av he wasn't so
troublesome.'

"'Troublesome, troublesome--what do you mean?'

"'Just so,' says I. 'Isn't he parsecutiug the life out of me the whole
morning, following me about everywhere I go? Contrary bastes they always
was.'

"'I advise you to try and part company, my friend, notwithstanding,' says
he; 'or may be it's the same end you'll be coming to, and not long either.'
And faix, I took his advice; and ye see, Mister Charles, it's just as I was
saying, they're like the women, the least thing in life is enough to bring
them after us, _av ye only put the 'comether'_ upon them."

"And now adieu to the Villa Nuova," said I, as I rode slowly down the
avenue, turning ever and anon in my saddle to look back on each well-known
spot.

A heavy sigh from Mike responded to my words.

"A long, a last farewell!" said I, waving my hand towards the trellised
walls, now half-hidden by the trees; and, as I spoke, that heaviness of the
heart came over me that seems inseparable from leave-taking. The hour of
parting seems like a warning to us that all our enjoyments and pleasures
here are destined to a short and merely fleeting existence; and as each
scene of life passes away never to return, we are made to feel that youth
and hope are passing with them; and that, although the fair world be as
bright, and its pleasures as rich in abundance, our capacity of enjoyment
is daily, hourly diminishing; and while all around us smiles in beauty and
happiness, that we, alas! are not what we were.

Such was the tenor of my thoughts as I reached the road, when they were
suddenly interrupted by my man Mike, whose meditations were following
a somewhat similar channel, though at last inclining to different
conclusions. He coughed a couple of times as if to attract my attention,
and then, as it were half thinking aloud, he muttered,--

"I wonder if we treated the young ladies well, anyhow, Mister Charles, for,
faix, I've my doubts on it."




CHAPTER XIX.


THE LINES.

When we reached Lescas, we found that an officer of Lord Wellington's staff
had just arrived from the lines, and was occupied in making known the
general order from headquarters; which set forth, with customary brevity,
that the French armies, under the command of Massena, had retired from
their position, and were in full retreat,--the second and third corps,
which had been stationed at Villa Franca, having marched, during the
night of the 15th, in the direction of Manal. The officers in command of
divisions were ordered to repair instantly to Pero Negro, to consult upon a
forward movement, Admiral Berkeley being written to to provide launches to
pass over General Hill's, or any other corps which might be selected, to
the left bank of the Tagus. All now was excitement, heightened by the
unexpected nature of an occurrence which not even speculation had
calculated upon. It was but a few days before, and the news had reached
Torres Vedras that a powerful reinforcement was in march to join Massena's
army, and their advanced guard had actually reached Santarem. The confident
expectation was, therefore, that an attack upon the lines was meditated.
Now, however, this prospect existed no longer; for scarcely had the heavy
mists of the lowering day disappeared, when the vast plain, so lately
peopled by the thickened ranks and dark masses of a great army, was seen in
its whole extent deserted and untenanted.

The smouldering fires of the pickets alone marked where the troops had been
posted, but not a man of that immense force was to be seen. General Fane,
who had been despatched with a brigade of Portuguese cavalry and some
artillery, hung upon the rear of the retiring army, and from him we learned
that the enemy were continuing their retreat northward, having occupied
Santarem with a strong force to cover the movement. Crawfurd was ordered
to the front with the light division, the whole army following in the same
direction, except Hill's corps, which, crossing the river at Velada, was
intended to harass the enemy's flank, and assist our future operations.

Such, in brief, was the state of affairs when I reached Villa Franca
towards noon, and received orders to join my regiment, then forming part of
Sir Stapleton Cotton's brigade.

It must be felt to be thoroughly appreciated, the enthusiastic pleasure
with which one greets his old corps after some months of separation: the
bounding ecstasy with which the weary eye rests on the old familiar faces,
dear by every association of affection and brotherhood; the anxious look
for this one and for that; the thrill of delight sent through the heart as
the well-remembered march swells upon the ear; the very notes of that rough
voice which we have heard amidst the crash of battle and the rolling of
artillery, speak softly to our senses like a father's welcome; from the
well-tattered flag that waves above us to the proud steed of the war-worn
trumpeter, each has a niche in our affection.

If ever there was a corps calculated to increase and foster these
sentiments, the 14th Light Dragoons was such. The warm affection, the truly
heart-felt regard, which existed among my brother officers, made of our
mess a happy home. Our veteran colonel, grown gray in campaigning, was like
a father to us; while the senior officers, tempering the warm blood of
impetuous youth with their hard-won experience, threw a charm of peace and
tranquillity over all our intercourse that made us happy when together, and
taught us to feel that, whether seated around the watch-fire or charging
amidst the squadrons of the enemy, we were surrounded by those devoted
heart and soul to aid us.

Gallant Fourteenth!--ever first in every gay scheme of youthful jollity, as
foremost in the van to meet the foe--how happy am I to recall the memory
of your bright looks and bold hearts; of your manly daring and your bold
frankness; of your merry voices, as I have heard them in the battle or in
the bivouac! Alas and alas, that I should indulge such recollections alone!
How few--how very few--are left of those with whom I trod the early steps
of life, whose bold cheer I have heard above the clashing sabres of the
enemy, whose broken voice I have listened to above the grave of a comrade!
The dark pines of the Pyrenees wave above some, the burning sands of India
cover others, and the wide plains of Salamanca are the abiding-place of
still more.

"Here comes O'Malley!" shouted a well-known voice, as I rode down the
little slope at the foot of which a group of officers were standing beside
their horses.

"Welcome, thou man of Galway!" cried Hampden; "delighted to have you once
more among us. How confoundedly well the fellow is looking!"

"Lisbon beef seems better prog than commissariat biscuit!" said another.

"A'weel, Charley?" said my friend the Scotch doctor; "how's a' wi' ye man?
Ye seem to thrive on your mishaps! How cam' ye by that braw beastie ye're
mounted on?"

"A present, Doctor; the gift of a very warm friend."

"I hope you invited him to the mess, O'Malley! For, by Jove, our stables
stand in need of his kind offices! There he goes! Look at him! What a
slashing pace for a heavy fellow!" This observation was made with
reference to a well-known officer on the commander-in-chief's staff, whose
weight--some two and twenty stone--never was any impediment to his bold
riding.

"Egad, O'Malley, you'll soon be as pretty a light-weight as our friend
yonder. Ah, there's a storm going on there! Here comes the colonel!"

"Well, O'Malley, are you come back to us? Happy to see you, boy! Hope
we shall not lose you again in a hurry! We can't spare the scapegraces!
There's plenty of skirmishing going on! Crawfurd always asks for the
scapegraces for the pickets!"

I shook my gallant colonel's hand, while I acknowledged, as best I might,
his ambiguous compliment.

"I say, lads," resumed the colonel, "squad your men and form on the road!
Lord Wellington's coming down this way to have a look at you! O'Malley, I
have General Crawfurd's orders to offer you your old appointment on his
staff; without you prefer to remaining with the regiment!"

"I can never be sufficiently grateful, sir, to the general: but, in fact--I
think--that is, I believe--"

"You'd rather be among your own fellows. Out with it boy! I like you all
the better! But come, we mustn't let the general know that; so that I shall
forget to tell you all about it. Eh, isn't that best? But join your troop
now; I hear the staff coming this way."

As he spoke, a crowd of horseman were seen advancing towards us at a sharp
trot, their waving plumes and gorgeous aiguillettes denoting their rank
as generals of division. In the midst, as they came nearer, I could
distinguish one whom once seen there was no forgetting; his plain blue
frock and gray trousers, unstrapped beneath his boots, not a little unlike
the trim accuracy of costume around him. As he rode to the head of the
leading squadron, the staff fell back and he stood alone before us; for a
second there was a dead silence, but the next instant--by what impulse tell
who can--one tremendous cheer burst from the entire regiment. It was like
the act of one man; so sudden, so spontaneous. While every cheek glowed,
and every eye sparkled with enthusiasm, he alone seemed cool and unexcited,
as, gently raising his hand, he motioned them to silence.

"Fourteenth, you are to be where you always desire to be,--in the advanced
guard of the army. I have nothing to say on the subject of your conduct
in the field. I know _you_; but if in pursuit of the enemy, I hear of any
misconduct towards the people of the country, or any transgression of the
general orders regarding pillage, by G----, I'll punish you as severely as
the worst corps in the service, and you know _me!_"

"Oh, tear an ages, listen to that; and there's to be no plunder after all!"
said Mickey Free; and for an instant the most I could do was not to burst
into a fit of laughter. The word, "Forward!" was given at the moment, and
we moved past in close column, while that penetrating eye, which seemed to
read our very thoughts, scanned us from one end of the line to the other.

"I say, Charley," said the captain of my troop, in a whisper,--"I say, that
confounded cheer we gave got us that lesson; he can't stand that kind of
thing."

"By Jove! I never felt more disposed than to repeat it," said I.

"No, no, my boy, we'll give him the honors, nine times nine; but wait till
evening. Look at old Merivale there. I'll swear he's saying something
devilish civil to him. Do you see the old fellow's happy look?"

And so it was; the bronzed, hard-cast features of the veteran soldier
were softened into an expression of almost boyish delight, as he sat,
bare-headed, bowing to his very saddle, while Lord Wellington was speaking.

As I looked, my heart throbbed painfully against my side, my breath came
quick, and I muttered to myself, "What would I not give to be in his place
now!"




CHAPTER XX.


THE RETREAT OF THE FRENCH.

It is not my intention, were I even adequate to the task, to trace with
anything like accuracy the events of the war at this period. In fact, to
those who, like myself, were performing a mere subaltern character, the
daily movements of our own troops, not to speak of the continual changes
of the enemy, were perfectly unknown, and an English newspaper was more
ardently longed for in the Peninsula than by the most eager crowd of a
London coffee-room; nay, the results of the very engagements we were
ourselves concerned in, more than once, first reached us through the press
of our own country. It is easy enough to understand this. The officer in
command of the regiment, and how much more, the captain of a troop, or the
subaltern under him, knows nothing beyond the sphere of his own immediate
duty; by the success or failure of his own party his knowledge is bounded,
but how far he or his may influence the fortune, of the day, or of what is
taking place elsewhere, he is totally ignorant; and an old Fourteenth man
did not badly explain, his ideas on the matter, who described Busaco as "a
great noise and a great smoke, booming artillery and rattling small-arms,
infernal confusion, and to all seeming, incessant blundering, orders
and counter-orders, ending with a crushing charge; when, not being hurt
himself, nor having hurt anybody, he felt much pleased to learn that they
had gained a victory." It is then sufficient for all the purposes of my
narrative, when I mention that Massena continued his retreat by Santarem
and Thomar, followed by the allied army, who, however desirous of pressing
upon the rear of their enemy, were still obliged to maintain their
communication with the lines, and also to watch the movement of the large
armies which, under Ney and Soult, threatened at any unguarded moment to
attack them in flank.

The position which Massena occupied at Santarem, naturally one of great
strength, and further improved by intrenchments, defied any attack on
the part of Lord Wellington, until the arrival of the long-expected
reinforcements from England. These had sailed in the early part of January,
but delayed by adverse winds, only reached Lisbon on the 2d of March; and
so correctly was the French marshal apprised of the circumstance, and so
accurately did he anticipate the probable result, that on the fourth he
broke up his encampment, and recommenced his retrograde movement, with an
army now reduced to forty thousand fighting men, and with two thousand
sick, destroying all his baggage and guns that could not be horsed. By a
demonstration of advancing upon the Zezere, by which he held the allies
in check, he succeeded in passing his wounded to the rear, while Ney,
appearing with a large force suddenly at Leiria, seemed bent upon attacking
the lines. By these stratagems two days' march were gained, and the French
retreated upon Torres Novas and Thomar, destroying the bridges behind them
as they passed.

The day was breaking on the 12th of March, when the British first came in
sight of the retiring enemy. We were then ordered to the front, and broken
up into small parties, threw out our skirmishers. The French chasseurs,
usually not indisposed to accept this species of encounter, showed now less
of inclination than usual, and either retreated before us, or hovered in
masses to check our advance; in this way the morning was passed, when
towards noon we perceived that the enemy was drawn up in battle array,
occupying the height above the village of Redinha. This little straggling
village is situated in a hollow traversed by a narrow causeway which opens
by a long and dangerous defile upon a bridge, on either side of which a
dense wood afforded a shelter for light troops, while upon the commanding
eminence above a battery of heavy guns was seen in position.

In front of the village a brigade of artillery and a division of infantry
were drawn up so skilfully as to give the appearance of a considerable
force, so that when Lord Wellington came up he spent some time in examining
the enemy's position. Erskine's brigade was immediately ordered up, and the
Fifty-second and Ninety-fourth, and a company of the Forty-third were led
against the wooded slopes upon the French right. Picton simultaneously
attacked the left, and in less than an hour, both were successful, and
Ney's position was laid bare; his skirmishers, however, continued to hold
their ground in front, and La Ferriere, a colonel of hussars, dashing
boldly forward at this very moment, carried off fourteen prisoners from
the very front of our line. Deceived by the confidence of the enemy, Lord
Wellington now prepared for an attack in force. The infantry were therefore
formed into line, and, at the signal of three shots fired from the centre,
began their foremost movement.

Bending up a gentle curve, the whole plain glistened with the glancing
bayonets, and the troops marched majestically onward; while the light
artillery and the cavalry, bounding forward from the left and centre,
rushed eagerly towards the foe. One deafening discharge from the French
guns opened at the moment, with a general volley of small-arms. The smoke
for an instant obscured everything, and when that cleared away, no enemy
was to be seen.

The British pressed madly on, like heated blood-hounds; but when they
descended the slope, the village of Redinha was in flames, and the French
in full retreat beyond it. A single howitzer seemed our only trophy, and
even this we were not destined to boast of, for from the midst of the
crashing flame and dense smoke of the burning village, a troop of dragoons
rushed forward, and charging our infantry, carried it off. The struggle,
though but for a moment, cost them dear: twenty of their comrades lay dead
upon the spot; but they were resolute and determined, and the officer who
led them on, fighting hand to hand with a soldier of the Forty-second,
cheered them as they retired. His gallant bearing, and his coat covered
with decorations, bespoke him one of note, and well it might; he who
thus perilled his life to maintain the courage of his soldiers at the
commencement of a retreat, was none other than Ney himself, _le plus brave
des braves_. The British pressed hotly on, and the light troops crossed the
river almost at the same time with the French. Ney, however, fell back upon
Condeixa, where his main body was posted, and all farther pursuit was for
the present abandoned.

At Casa Noval and at Foz d'Aronce, the allies were successful; but the
French still continued to retire, burning the towns and villages in their
rear, and devastating the country along the whole line of march by every
expedient of cruelty the heart of man has ever conceived. In the words of
one whose descriptions, however fraught with the most wonderful power of
painting, are equally marked by truth, "Every horror that could make war
hideous attended this dreadful march. Distress, conflagration, death in
all modes,--from wounds, from fatigue, from water, from the flames, from
starvation,--vengeance, unlimited vengeance, was on every side." The
country was a desert!

Such was the exhaustion of the allies, who suffered even greater privations
than the enemy, that they halted upon the 16th, unable to proceed farther;
and the river Ceira, swollen and unfordable, flowed between the rival
armies.

The repose of even one day was a most grateful interruption to the
harassing career we had pursued for some time past; and it seemed that my
comrades felt, like myself, that such an opportunity was by no means to
be neglected; but while I am devoting so much space and trespassing on my
reader's patience thus far with narrative of flood and field, let me steal
a chapter for what will sometimes seem a scarcely less congenial topic, and
bring back the recollection of a glorious night in the Peninsula.




CHAPTER XXI.


PATRICK'S DAY IN THE PENINSULA.

The _reveil_ had not yet sounded, when I felt my shoulder shaken gently as
I lay wrapped up in my cloak beneath a prickly pear-tree.

"Lieutenant O'Malley, sir; a letter, sir; a bit of a note, your honor,"
said a voice that bespoke the bearer and myself were countrymen. I opened
it, and with difficulty, by the uncertain light, read as follows:--

    Dear Charley,--As Lord Wellington, like a good Irishman as
    he is, wouldn't spoil Patrick's Day by marching, we've got a little
    dinner at our quarters to celebrate the holy times, as my uncle would
    call it. Maurice, Phil Grady, and some regular trumps will all come,
    so don't disappoint us. I've been making punch all night, and
    Casey, who has a knack at pastry, has made a goose-pie as big as a
    portmanteau. Sharp seven, after parade. The second battalion of
    the Fusiliers are quartered at Melante, and we are next them. Bring
    any of yours worth their liquor. Power is, I know, absent with the
    staff; perhaps the Scotch doctor would come; try him. Carry over
    a little mustard with you, if there be such in your parts.

    Yours,

    D. O'SHAUGHNESSY.

    Patrick's day, and raining like blazes.

Seeing that the bearer expected an answer, I scrawled the words, "I'm
there," with my pencil on the back of the note, and again turned myself
round to sleep. My slumbers were, however, soon interrupted once more; for
the bugles of the light infantry and the hoarse trumpet of the cavalry
sounded the call, and I found to my surprise that, though halted, we were
by no means destined to a day of idleness. Dragoons were already mounted,
carrying orders hither and thither, and staff-officers were galloping right
and left. A general order commanded an inspection of the troops, and within
less than an hour from daybreak the whole army was drawn up under arms. A
thin, drizzling rain continued to fall during the early part of the day,
but the sun gradually dispelled the heavy vapor; and as the bright verdure
glittered in its beams, sending up all the perfumes of a southern clime, I
thought I had never seen a more lovely morning. The staff were stationed
upon a little knoll beside the river, round the base of which the troops
defiled, at first in orderly, then in quick time, the bands playing and the
colors flying. In the same brigade with us the Eighty-eighth came, and as
they neared the commander-in-chief, their quick-step was suddenly stopped,
and after a pause of a few seconds, the band struck up "St. Patrick's Day;"
the notes were caught up by the other Irish regiments, and amidst one
prolonged cheer from the whole line, the gallant fellows moved past.

The grenadier company were drawn up beside the road, and I was not long in
detecting my friend O'Shaughnessy, who wore a tremendous shamrock in his
shako.

"Left face, wheel! Quick march! Don't forget the mustard!" said the bold
major; and a loud roar of laughing from my brother officers followed him
off the ground. I soon explained the injunction, and having invited some
three or four to accompany me to the dinner, waited with all patience for
the conclusion of the parade.

The sun was setting as I mounted, and joined by Hampden, Baker, the doctor,
and another, set out for O'Shaughnessy's quarters. As we rode along, we
were continually falling in with others bent upon the same errand as
ourselves, and ere we arrived at Melante our party was some thirty strong;
and truly a most extraordinary procession did we form. Few of the
invited came without some contribution to the general stock; and while a
staff-officer flourished a ham, a smart hussar might be seen with a plucked
turkey, trussed for roasting; most carried bottles, as the consumption of
fluid was likely to be considerable; and one fat old major jogged along on
a broken-winded pony, with a basket of potatoes on his arm. Good fellowship
was the order of the day, and certainly a more jovial squadron seldom was
met together than ours. As we turned the angle of a rising ground, a hearty
cheer greeted us, and we beheld in front of an old ordnance marquee a party
of some fifty fellows engaged in all the pleasing duties of the _cuisine_.
Maurice, conspicuous above all, with a white apron and a ladle in his hand,
was running hither and thither, advising, admonishing, instructing, and
occasionally imprecating. Ceasing for a second his functions, he gave us a
cheer and a yell like that of an Indian savage, and then resumed his duties
beside a huge boiler, which, from the frequency of his explorations into
its contents, we judged to be punch.

"Charley, my son, I've a place for you; don't forget. Where's my learned
brother?--haven't you brought him with you? Ah, Doctor, how goes it?"

[Illustration: GOING OUT TO DINNER.]

"Nae that bad, Master Quell: a' things considered, we've had an awfu' time
of it lately."

"You know my friend Hampden, Maurice. Let me introduce Mr. Baker, Mr.
Maurice Quill. Where's the major?"

"Here I am, my darling, and delighted to see you. Some of yours, O'Malley,
ain't they? Proud to have you, gentlemen. Charley, we are obliged to have
several tables; but you are to be beside Maurice, so take your friends with
you. There goes the 'Roast Beef;' my heart warms to that old tune."

Amidst a hurried recognition, and shaking of hands on every side, I elbowed
my way into the tent, and soon reached a corner, where, at a table for
eight, I found Maurice seated at one end; a huge, purple-faced old major,
whom he presented to us as Bob Mahon, occupied the other. O'Shaughnessy
presided at the table next to us, but near enough to join in all the
conviviality of ours.

One must have lived for some months upon hard biscuit and harder beef
to relish as we did the fare before us, and to form an estimate of our
satisfaction. If the reader cannot fancy Van Amburgh's lions in red coats
and epaulettes, he must be content to lose the effect of the picture. A
turkey rarely fed more than two people, and few were abstemious enough to
be satisfied with one chicken. The order of the viands, too, observed no
common routine, each party being happy to get what he could, and satisfied
to follow up his pudding with fish, or his tart with a sausage. Sherry,
champagne, London porter, Malaga, and even, I believe, Harvey's sauce were
hobnobbed in; while hot punch, in teacups or tin vessels, was unsparingly
distributed on all sides. Achilles himself, they say, got tired of eating,
and though he consumed something like a prize ox to his own cheek, he at
length had to call for cheese, so that we at last gave in, and having
cleared away the broken tumbrels and baggage-carts of our army, cleared for
a general action.

"Now, lads!" cried the major, "I'm not going to lose your time and mine by
speaking; but there are a couple of toasts I must insist upon your drinking
with all the honors; and as I like despatch, we'll couple them. It so
happens that our old island boasts of two of the finest fellows that
ever wore Russia ducks. None of your nonsensical geniuses, like poets or
painters or anything like that; but downright, straightforward, no-humbug
sort of devil-may-care and bad-luck-to-you kind of chaps,--real Irishmen!
Now, it's a strange thing that they both had such an antipathy to vermin,
they spent their life in hunting them down and destroying them; and whether
they met toads at home or Johnny Crapaud abroad, it was all one. [Cheers.]
Just so, boys; they made them leave that; but I see you are impatient, so
I'll not delay you, but fill to the brim, and with the best cheer in your
body, drink with me the two greatest Irishmen that ever lived, 'Saint
Patrick and Lord Wellington.'"

The Englishmen laughed long and loud, while we cheered with an energy that
satisfied even the major.

"Who is to give us the chant? Who is to sing Saint Patrick?" cried Maurice.
"Come, Bob, out with it."

"I'm four tumblers too low for that yet," growled out the major.

"Well, then, Charley, be you the man; or why not Dennis himself? Come,
Dennis, we cannot better begin our evening than with a song; let us have
our old friend 'Larry M'Hale.'"

"Larry M'Hale!" resounded from all parts of the room, while O'Shaughnessy
rose once more to his legs.

"Faith, boys, I'm always ready to follow your lead; but what analogy can
exist between 'Larry M'Hale' and the toast we have just drank I can't see
for the life of me; not but Larry would have made a strapping light company
man had he joined the army."

"The song, the song!" cried several voices.

"Well, if you will have it, here goes:"--

    LARRY M'HALE.

    AIR,--_"It's a bit of a thing_," _etc_.

    Oh, Larry M'Hale he had little to fear,
    And never could want when the crops didn't fail;
    He'd a house and demesne and eight hundred a year,
    And the heart for to spend it, had Larry M'Hale!
    The soul of a party, the life of a feast,
    And an illigant song he could sing, I'll be bail;
    He would ride with the rector, and drink with the priest,
    Oh, the broth of a boy was old Larry M'Hale!

    It's little he cared for the judge or recorder,
    His house was as big and as strong as a jail;
    With a cruel four-pounder, he kept in great order,
    He'd murder the country, would Larry M'Hale.
    He'd a blunderbuss too, of horse-pistols a pair;
    But his favorite weapon was always a flail.
    I wish you could see how he'd empty a fair,
    For he handled it neatly, did Larry M'Hale.

    His ancestors were kings before Moses was born,
    His mother descended from great Grana Uaile;
    He laughed all the Blakes and the Frenches to scorn;
    They were mushrooms compared to old Larry M'Hale.
    He sat down every day to a beautiful dinner,
    With cousins and uncles enough for a tail;
    And, though loaded with debt, oh, the devil a thinner,
    Could law or the sheriff make Larry M'Hale!

    With a larder supplied and a cellar well stored,
    None lived half so well, from Fair-Head to Kinsale,
    As he piously said, "I've a plentiful board,
    And the Lord he is good to old Larry M'Hale."
    So fill up your glass, and a high bumper give him,
    It's little we'd care for the tithes or repale;
    For ould Erin would be a fine country to live in,
    If we only had plenty like LARRY M'HALE.

"Very singular style of person your friend Mr. M'Hale," lisped a
spooney-looking cornet at the end of the table.

"Not in the country he belongs to, I assure you," said Maurice; "but I
presume you were never in Ireland."

"You are mistaken there," resumed the other; "I was in Ireland, though I
confess not for a long time."

"If I might be so bold," cried Maurice, "how long?"

"Half an hour, by a stop-watch," said the other, pulling up his stock; "and
I had quite enough of it in that time."

"Pray give us your experiences," cried out Bob Mahon; "they should be
interesting, considering your opportunities."

"You are right," said the cornet; "they were so; and as they illustrate a
feature in your amiable country, you shall have them."

A general knocking upon the table announced the impatience of the company,
and when silence was restored the cornet began:--

When the 'Bermuda' transport sailed from Portsmouth for Lisbon, I happened
to make one of some four hundred interesting individuals who, before they
became food for powder, were destined to try their constitutions on pickled
pork. The second day after our sailing, the winds became adverse; it blew
a hurricane from every corner of the compass but the one it ought, and the
good ship, that should have been standing straight for the Bay of Biscay,
was scudding away under a double-reefed topsail towards the coast of
Labrador. For six days we experienced every sea-manoeuvre that usually
preludes a shipwreck, and at length, when, what from sea-sickness and fear,
we had become utterly indifferent to the result, the storm abated, the sea
went down, and we found ourselves lying comfortably in the harbor of Cork,
with a strange suspicion on our minds that the frightful scenes of the past
week had been nothing but a dream.

"'Come, Mr. Medlicot,' said the skipper to me, 'we shall be here for a
couple of days to refit; had you not better go ashore and see the country?'

"I sprang to my legs with delight; visions of cowslips, larks, daisies, and
mutton-chops floated before my excited imagination, and in ten minutes I
found myself standing at that pleasant little inn at Cove which, opposite
Spike Island, rejoices in the name of the 'Goat and Garters.'

"'Breakfast, waiter,' said I; 'a beefsteak,--fresh beef, mark ye,--fresh
eggs, bread, milk, and butter, all fresh. No more hard tack,' thought I;
'no salt butter, but a genuine land breakfast.'

"Up-stairs, No. 4, sir,' said the waiter, as he flourished a dirty napkin,
indicating the way.

"Up-stairs I went, and in due time the appetizing little meal made its
appearance. Never did a minor's eye revel over his broad acres with more
complacent enjoyment than did mine skim over the mutton and the muffin,
the tea-pot, the trout, and the devilled kidney, so invitingly spread out
before me. 'Yes,' thought I, as I smacked my lips, 'this is the reward of
virtue; pickled pork is a probationary state that admirably fits us for
future enjoyments.' I arranged my napkin upon my knee, seized my knife
and fork, and proceeded with most critical acumen to bisect a beefsteak.
Scarcely, however, had I touched it, when, with a loud crash, the plate
smashed beneath it, and the gravy ran piteously across the cloth. Before I
had time to account for the phenomenon, the door opened hastily, and the
waiter rushed into the room, his face beaming with smiles, while he rubbed
his hands in an ecstasy of delight.

"'It's all over, sir,' said he; 'glory be to God! it's all done.'

"'What's over? What's done?' inquired I, with impatience.

"'Mr. M'Mahon is satisfied,' replied he, 'and so is the other gentleman.'

"'Who and what the devil do you mean?'

[Illustration: DISADVANTAGE OF BREAKFASTING OVER A DUELLING-PARTY.]

"'It's over, sir, I say,' replied the waiter again; 'he fired in the air.'

"'Fired in the air! Was there a duel in the room below stairs?'

"'Yes, sir,' said the waiter, with a benign smile.

"'That will do,' said I, as seizing my hat, I rushed out of the house, and
hurrying to the beach, took a boat for the ship. Exactly half an hour had
elapsed since my landing, but even those short thirty minutes had fully as
many reasons that although there may be few more amusing, there are some
safer places to live in than the Green Isle."

A general burst of laughter followed the cornet's story, which was
heightened in its effect by the gravity with which he told it.

"And after all," said Maurice Quill, "now that people have given up making
fortunes for the insurance companies by living to the age of Methuselah,
there's nothing like being an Irishman. In what other part of the habitable
globe can you cram so much adventure into one year? Where can you be so
often in love, in liquor, or in debt; and where can you get so merrily out
of the three? Where are promises to marry and promises to pay treated with
the same gentleman-like forbearance; and where, when you have lost your
heart and your fortune, are people found so ready to comfort you in your
reverses? Yes," said Maurice, as he filled his glass up to the brim, and
eyed it lusciously for a moment,--"yes, darling, here's your health; the
only girl I ever loved--in that part of the country, I mean. Give her a
bumper, lads, and I'll give you a chant."

"Name! name! name!" shouted several voices from different parts of the
table.

"Mary Draper!" said Maurice, filling his glass once more, while the name
was re-echoed by every lip at table.

"The song! the song!"

"Faith, I hope I haven't forgotten it," quoth Maurice. "No; here it is."

So saying, after a couple of efforts to assure the pitch of his voice, the
worthy doctor began the following words to that very popular melody, "Nancy
Dawson:"--


    MARY DRAPER.

    AIR,--_Nancy Dawson_.

    Don't talk to me of London dames,
    Nor rave about your foreign flames,
    That never lived, except in drames,
    Nor shone, except on paper;
    I'll sing you 'bout a girl I knew,
    Who lived in Ballywhacmacrew,
    And let me tell you, mighty few
    Could equal Mary Draper.

    Her cheeks were red, her eyes were blue,
    Her hair was brown of deepest hue,
    Her foot was small, and neat to view,
    Her waist was slight and taper;
    Her voice was music to your ear,
    A lovely brogue, so rich and clear,
    Oh, the like I ne'er again shall hear,
    As from sweet Mary Draper.

    She'd ride a wall, she'd drive a team,
    Or with a fly she'd whip a stream,
    Or may be sing you "Rousseau's Dream,"
    For nothing could escape her;
    I've seen her, too,--upon my word,--
    At sixty yards bring down her bird,
    Oh, she charmed all the Forty-third,
    Did lovely Mary Draper.

    And at the spring assizes' ball,
    The junior bar would one and all
    For all her fav'rite dances call,
    And Harry Dean would caper;
    Lord Clare would then forget his lore;
    King's Counsel, voting law a bore,
    Were proud to figure on the floor,
    For love of Mary Draper.

    The parson, priest, sub-sheriff too,
    Were all her slaves, and so would you,
    If you had only but one view,
    Of such a face and shape, or
    Her pretty ankles--But, ohone,
    It's only west of old Athlone
    Such girls were found--and now they're gone--
    So here's to Mary Draper!

"So here's to Mary Draper!" sang out every voice, in such efforts to catch
the tune as pleased the taste of the motley assembly.

"For Mary Draper and Co., I thank you," said Maurice. "Quill drinks to
Dennis," added he, in a grave tone, as he nodded to O'Shaughnessy. "Yes,
Shaugh, few men better than ourselves know these matters; and few have had
more experience of the three perils of Irishmen,--love, liquor, and the law
of arrest."

"It's little the latter has ever troubled my father's son," replied
O'Shaughnessy. "Our family have been writ proof for centuries, and he'd
have been a bold man who would have ventured with an original or a true
copy within the precincts of Killinahoula."

"Your father had a touch of Larry M'Hale in him," said I, "apparently."

"Exactly so," replied Dennis; "not but they caught him at last, and a
scurvy trick it was and well worthy of him who did it! Yes," said he, with
a sigh, "it is only another among the many instances where the better
features of our nationality have been used by our enemies as instruments
for our destruction; and should we seek for the causes of unhappiness in
our wretched country, we should find them rather in our virtues than in
our vices, and in the bright rather than in the darker phases of our
character."

"Metaphysics, by Jove!" cried Quill; "but all true at the same time. There
was a mess-mate of mine in the 'Roscommon' who never paid car-hire in his
life. 'Head or harp, Paddy!' he would cry. 'Two tenpennies or nothing.'
'Harp, for the honor of ould Ireland!' was the invariable response, and my
friend was equally sure to make head come uppermost; and, upon my soul,
they seem to know the trick at the Home Office."

"That must have been the same fellow that took my father," cried
O'Shaughnessy, with energy.

"Let us hear the story, Dennis," said I.

"Yes," said Maurice, "for the benefit of self and fellows, let us hear the
stratagem!"

"The way of it was this," resumed O'Shaughnessy. "My father, who for
reasons registered in the King's Bench spent a great many years of his life
in that part of Ireland geographically known as lying west of the law,
was obliged, for certain reasons of family, to come up to Dublin. This he
proceeded to do with due caution. Two trusty servants formed an advance
guard, and patrolled the country for at least five miles in advance; after
them came a skirmishing body of a few tenants, who, for the consideration
of never paying rent, would have charged the whole Court of Chancery, if
needful. My father himself, in an old chaise victualled like a fortress,
brought up the rear; and as I said before, he were a bold man who would
have attempted to have laid siege to him. As the column advanced into the
enemy's country, they assumed a closer order, the patrol and the picket
falling back upon the main body; and in this way they reached that most
interesting city called Kilbeggan. What a fortunate thing it is for us in
Ireland that we can see so much of the world without foreign travel, and
that any gentleman for six-and-eightpence can leave Dublin in the morning,
and visit Timbuctoo against dinner-time. Don't stare! it's truth I'm
telling; for dirt, misery, smoke, unaffected behavior, and black faces,
I'll back Kilbeggan against all Africa. Free-and-easy, pleasant people ye
are, with a skin, as begrimed and as rugged as your own potatoes! But, to
resume. The sun was just rising in a delicious morning of June, when my
father,--whose loyal antipathies I have mentioned made him also an early
riser,--was preparing for the road. A stout escort of his followers were
as usual under arms to see him safe in the chaise, the passage to and from
which every day being the critical moment of my father's life.

"'It's all right, your honor,' said his own man, as, armed with a
blunderbuss, he opened the bed-room door.

"'Time enough, Tim,' said my father; 'close the door, for I haven't
finished my breakfast.'

"Now, the real truth was, that my father's attention was at that moment
withdrawn from his own concerns by a scene which was taking place in a
field beneath his window.

"But a few minutes before, a hack-chaise had stopped upon the roadside, out
of which sprang three gentlemen, who, proceeding into the field, seemed
bent upon something, which, whether a survey or a duel, my father could not
make out. He was not long, however, to remain in ignorance. One, with an
easy, lounging gait, strode towards a distant corner; another took an
opposite direction; while a third, a short, pursy gentleman, in a red
handkerchief and rabbit-skin waistcoat, proceeded to open a mahogany
box, which, to the critical eyes of my respected father, was agreeably
suggestive of bloodshed and murder.

"'A duel, by Jupiter!' said my father, rubbing his hands. 'What a heavenly
morning the scoundrels have,--not a leaf stirring, and a sod like a
billiard-table!'

"Meanwhile the little man who officiated as second, it would appear to
_both_ parties, bustled about with an activity little congenial to his
shape; and what between snapping the pistols, examining the flints, and
ramming down the charges, had got himself into a sufficient perspiration
before he commenced to measure the ground.

"'Short distance and no quarter!' shouted one of the combatants, from the
corner of the field.

"'Across a handkerchief, if you like!' roared the other.

"'Gentlemen, every inch of them!' responded my father.

"'Twelve paces!' cried the little man. 'No more and no less. Don't forget
that I am alone in this business!'

"'A very true remark!' observed my father; 'and an awkward predicament
yours will be if they are not both shot!'

"By this time the combatants had taken their places, and the little man,
having delivered the pistols, was leisurely retiring to give the word.
My father, however, whose critical eye was never at fault, detected a
circumstance which promised an immense advantage to one at the expense of
the other; in fact, one of the parties was so placed with his back to the
sun, that his shadow extended in a straight line to the very foot of his
antagonist.

"'Unfair, unfair!' cried my father, opening the window as he spoke, and
addressing himself to him of the rabbit-skin. 'I crave your pardon for the
interruption,' said he; 'but I feel bound to observe that that gentleman's
shadow is likely to make a shade of him.'

"'And so it is,' observed the short man; 'a thousand thanks for your
kindness, but the truth is, I am totally unaccustomed to this kind of
thing, and the affair will not admit of delay.'

"'Not an hour!' said one.

"'No, not five minutes!' growled the other of the combatants.

"'Put them up north and south,' said my father.

"'Is it thus?'

"'Exactly so. But now, again, the gentleman in the brown coat is covered
with the ash-tree.'

"'And so he is!' said rabbit-skin, wiping his forehead with agitation.

"'Move them a little to the left,' said he.

"'That brings me upon an eminence,' said the gentleman in blue. 'I'll be
d--d if I be made a cock shot of!'

"'What an awkward little thief it is in the hairy waistcoat!' said my
father; 'he's lucky if he don't get shot himself!'

"'May I never, if I'm not sick of you both!' ejaculated rabbit-skin, in a
passion. 'I've moved you round every point of the compass, and the devil a
nearer we are than ever!'

"'Give us the word,' said one.

"'The word!'

"'Downright murder,' said my father.

"'I don't care,' said the little man; 'we shall be here till doomsday.'

"'I can't permit this,' said my father; 'allow me.' So saying, he stepped
upon the window-sill, and leaped down into the field.

"'Before I can accept of your politeness,' said he of the rabbit-skin, 'may
I beg to know your name and position in society?'

"'Nothing more reasonable,' said my father. 'I'm Miles O'Shaughnessy,
Colonel of the Royal Raspers,--here is my card.'

"The piece of pasteboard was complacently handed from one to the other of
the party, who saluted my father with a smile of most courteous benignity.

"'Colonel O'Shaughnessy,' said one.

"'Miles O'Shaughnessy,' said the other.

"'Of Killinahoula Castle,' said the third.

"'At your service,' said my father, bowing, as he presented his snuff-box;
'and now to business, if you please, for my time also is limited.'

"'Very true,' observed he of the rabbit-skin; 'and, as you observe, now to
business; in virtue of which, Colonel Miles O'Shaughnessy, I hereby arrest
you in the King's name. Here is the writ; it's at the suit of Barnaby
Kelly, of Loughrea, for the sum of L1,482 19s. 7-1/2d., which--'

"Before he could conclude the sentence, my father discharged one obligation
by implanting his closed knuckles in his face. The blow, well aimed and
well intentioned, sent the little fellow summersetting like a sugar
hogshead. But, alas! it was of no use; the others, strong and able-bodied,
fell both upon him, and after a desperate struggle succeeded in getting him
down. To tie his hands, and convey him to the chaise, was the work of a few
moments; and as my father drove by the inn, the last object which caught
his view was a bloody encounter between his own people and the myrmidons
of the law, who, in great numbers, had laid siege to the house during his
capture. Thus was my father taken; and thus, in reward for yielding to a
virtuous weakness in his character, was he consigned to the ignominious
durance of a prison. Was I not right, then, in saying that such is the
melancholy position of our country, the most beautiful traits in our
character are converted into the elements of our ruin?"

"I dinna think ye ha'e made out your case, Major?" said the Scotch doctor,
who felt sorely puzzled at my friend's logic. "If your faether had na gi'en
the bond--"

"There is no saying what he wouldn't have done to the bailiffs,"
interrupted Dennis, who was following up a very different train of
reasoning.

"I fear me, Doctor," observed Quill, "you are much behind us in Scotland.
Not but that some of your chieftains are respectable men, and wouldn't get
on badly even in Galway."

"I thank ye muckle for the compliment," said the doctor, dryly; "but I ha'e
my doubts they'd think it ane, and they're crusty carls that's no' ower
safe to meddle wi'."

"I'd as soon propose a hand of 'spoiled five' to the Pope of Rome, as a
joke to one of them," returned Maurice.

"May be ye are na wrang there, Maister Quell."

"Well," cried Hampden, "if I may be allowed an opinion, I can safely aver I
know no quarters like Scotland. Edinburgh beyond anything or anywhere I was
ever placed in."

"Always after Dublin," interposed Maurice; while a general chorus of voices
re-echoed the sentiment.

"You are certainly a strong majority," said my friend, "against me; but
still I recant not my original opinion. Edinburgh before the world. For a
hospitality that never tires; for pleasant fellows that improve every day
of your acquaintance; for pretty girls that make you long for a repeal of
the canon about being only singly blessed, and lead you to long for a score
of them, Edinburgh,--I say again, before the world."

"Their ankles are devilish thick," whispered Maurice.

"A calumny, a base calumny!"

"And then they drink--"

"Oh--"

"Yes; they drink very strong tea."

"Shall we ha'e a glass o' sherry together, Hampden?" said the Scotch
doctor, willing to acknowledge his defence of auld Reekie.

"And we'll take O'Malley in," said Hampden; "he looks imploringly."

"And now to return to the charge," quoth Maurice. "In what particular dare
ye contend the palm with Dublin? We'll not speak of beauty. I can't suffer
any such profane turn in the conversation as to dispute the superiority of
Irishwomen's lips, eyes, noses, and eyebrows, to anything under heaven.
We'll not talk of gay fellows; egad, we needn't. I'll give you the
garrison,--a decent present,--and I'll back the Irish bar for more genuine
drollery, more wit, more epigram, more ready sparkling fun, than the whole
rest of the empire--ay, and all her colonies--can boast of."

"They are nae remarkable for passing the bottle, if they resemble their
very gifted advocate," observed the Scotchman.

"But they are for filling and emptying both, making its current, as it
glides by, like a rich stream glittering in the sunbeams with the sparkling
lustre of their wit. Lord, how I'm blown! Fill my pannikin, Charley.
There's no subduing a Scot. Talk with him, drink with him, fight with him,
and he'll always have the last of it; there's only one way of concluding
the treaty--"

"And that is--"

"Blarney him. Lord bless you, he can't stand it! Tell him Holyrood's like
Versailles, and the Trossach's finer than Mont Blanc; that Geordie Buchanan
was Homer, and the Canongate, Herculaneum,--then ye have him on the hip.
Now, ye never can humbug an Irishman that way; he'll know you're quizzing
him when you praise his country."

"Ye are right, Hampden," said the Scotch doctor, in reply to some
observation. "We are vara primitive in the Hielands, and we keep to our ain
national customs in dress and everything; and we are vara slow to learn,
and even when we try we are nae ower successfu' in our imitations, which
sometimes cost us dearly enough. Ye may have heard, may be, of the M'Nab o'
that ilk, and what happened him with the king's equerry?"

"I'm not quite certain," said Hampden, "if I ever heard the story."

"It's nae muckle of a story; but the way of it was this. When Montrose came
back from London, he brought with him a few Englishers to show them the
Highlands, and let them see something of deer-stalking,--among the rest, a
certain Sir George Sowerby, an aide-de-camp or an equerry of the prince.
He was a vara fine gentleman, that never loaded his ain gun, and a'most
thought it too much trouble to pull the trigger. He went out every
morning to shoot with his hair curled like a woman, and dressed like a
dancing-master. Now, there happened to be at the same time at the castle
the Laird o' M'Nab; he was a kind of cousin of the Montrose, and a rough
old tyke of the true Hieland breed, wha' thought that the head of a clan
was fully equal to any king or prince. He sat opposite to Sir George at
dinner the day of his arrival, and could not conceal his surprise at the
many new-fangled ways of feeding himself the Englisher adopted. He ate his
saumon wi' his fork in ae hand, and a bittock of bread in the other. He
would na touch the whiskey; helped himself to a cutlet wi' his fingers. But
what was maist extraordinary of all, he wore a pair o' braw white gloves
during the whole time o' dinner and when they came to tak' away the cloth,
he drew them off with a great air, and threw them into the middle of it,
and then, leisurely taking anither pair off a silver salver which his ain
man presented, he pat them on for dessert. The M'Nab, who, although an
auld-fashioned carl, was aye fond of bringing something new hame to his
friends, remarked the Englisher's proceeding with great care, and the next
day he appeared at dinner wi' a huge pair of Hieland mittens, which he
wore, to the astonishment of all and the amusement of most, through the
whole three courses; and exactly as the Englishman changed his gloves, the
M'Nab produced a fresh pair of goats' wool, four times as large as the
first, which, drawing on with prodigious gravity, he threw the others into
the middle of the cloth, remarking, as he did so,--

"'Ye see, Captain, we are never ower auld to learn.'

"All propriety was now at an end, and a hearty burst of laughter from one
end of the table to the other convulsed the whole company,--the M'Nab and
the Englishman being the only persons who did not join in it, but sat
glowering at each other like twa tigers; and, indeed, it needed, a'
the Montrose's interference that they had na quarrelled upon it in the
morning."

"The M'Nab was a man after my own heart," said Maurice; "there was
something very Irish in the lesson he gave the Englishman."

"I'd rather ye'd told him that than me," said the doctor, dryly; "he would
na hae thanked ye for mistaking him for ane of your countrymen."

"Come, Doctor," said Dennis, "could not ye give us a stave? Have ye nothing
that smacks of the brown fern and the blue lakes in your memory?"

"I have na a sang in my mind just noo except 'Johnny Cope,' which may be
might na be ower pleasant for the Englishers to listen to."

"I never heard a Scotch song worth sixpence," quoth Maurice, who seemed
bent on provoking the doctor's ire. "They contain nothing save some
puling sentimentality about lasses with lint-white locks, or some absurd
laudations of the Barley Bree."

"Hear till him, hear till him!" said the doctor, reddening with impatience.

"Show me anything," said Maurice, "like the 'Cruiskeen Lawn' or the 'Jug
of Punch;' but who can blame them, after all? You can't expect much from a
people with an imagination as naked as their own knees."

"Maurice! Maurice!" cried O'Shaughnessy, reprovingly, who saw that he was
pushing the other's endurance beyond all bounds.

"I mind weel," said the Scotchman, "what happened to ane o' your countrymen
wha took upon him to jest as you are doing now. It was to Laurie Cameron he
did it."

"And what said the redoubted Laurie in reply?"

"He did na say muckle, but he did something."

"And what might it be?" inquired Maurice.

"He threw him ower the brig of Ayr into the water, and he was drowned."

"And did Laurie come to no harm about the matter?"

"Ay, they tried him for it, and found him guilty; but when they asked
him what he had to say in his defence, he merely replied, 'When the carl
sneered about Scotland, I did na suspect that he did na ken how to swim;'
and so the end of it was, they did naething to Laurie."

"Cool that, certainly," said I.

"I prefer your friend with the mittens, I confess," said Maurice, "though
I'm sure both were most agreeable companion. But come, Doctor, couldn't you
give us,--

    Sit ye down, my heartie, and gie us a crack,
    Let the wind tak' the care o' the world on his back.'"

"You maunna attempt English poethry, my freend Quell; for it must be
confessed ye'e a damnable accent of your ain."

"Milesian-Phoenician-Corkacian; nothing more, my boy, and a coaxing kind
of recitative it is, after all. Don't tell me of your soft Etruscan, your
plethoric. _Hoch_-Deutsch, your flattering French. To woo and win the
girl of your heart, give me a rich brogue and the least taste in life of
blarney! There's nothing like it, believe me,--every inflection of your
voice suggesting some tender pressure of her soft hand or taper waist,
every cadence falling on her gentle heart like a sea-breeze on a burning
coast, or a soft sirocco over a rose-tree. And then, think, my boys,--and
it is a fine thought after all,--what a glorious gift that is, out of the
reach of kings to give or to take, what neither depends upon the act of
Union nor the _Habeas Corpus_. No! they may starve us, laugh at us, tax us,
transport us. They may take our mountains, our valleys, and our bogs; but,
bad luck to them, they can't steal our 'blarney;' that's the privilege one
and indivisible with our identity. And while an Englishman raves of his
liberty, a Scotchman of his oaten meal, blarney's _our_ birthright, and a
prettier portion I'd never ask to leave behind me to my sons. If I'd as
large a family as the ould gentleman called Priam we used to hear of at
school, it's the only inheritance I'd give them, and one comfort there
would be besides, the legacy duty would be only a trifle. Charley, my
son, I see you're listening to me, and nothing satisfies me more than to
instruct inspiring youth; so never forget the old song,--

    'If at your ease, the girls you'd please,
    And win them, like Kate Kearney,
    There's but one way, I've heard them say,
    Go kiss the Stone of Blarney.'"

"What do you say, Shaugh, if we drink it with all the honors?"

"But gently: do I hear a trumpet there?"

"Ah, there go the bugles. Can it be daybreak already?"

"How short the nights are at this season!" said Quill.

"What an infernal rumpus they're making! It's not possible the troops are
to march so early."

"It wouldn't surprise me in the least," quoth Maurice; "there is no knowing
what the commander-in-chief's not capable of,--the reason's clear enough."

"And why, Maurice?"

"There's not a bit of blarney about him."

The _reveil_ sang out from every brigade, and the drums beat to fall in,
while Mike came galloping up at full speed to say that the bridge of boats
was completed, and that the Twelfth were already ordered to cross. Not a
moment was therefore to be lost; one parting cup we drained to our next
meeting, and amidst a hundred "good-bys" we mounted our horses. Poor
Hampden's brains, sadly confused by the wine and the laughing, he knew
little of what was going on around him, and passed the entire time of our
homeward ride in a vain endeavor to adapt "Mary Draper" to the air of "Rule
Britannia."




CHAPTER XXII.


FUENTES D'ONORO.

From this period the French continued their retreat, closely followed by
the allied armies, and on the 5th of April, Massena once more crossed the
frontier into Spain, leaving thirty thousand of his bravest troops behind
him, fourteen thousand of whom had fallen or been taken prisoners.
Reinforcements, however, came rapidly pouring in. Two divisions of the
Ninth corps had already arrived, and Drouet, with eleven thousand infantry
and cavalry, was preparing to march to his assistance. Thus strengthened,
the French army marched towards the Portuguese frontier, and Lord
Wellington, who had determined not to hazard much by his blockade of Ciudad
Rodrigo, fell back upon the large table-land beyond the Turones and the Dos
Casas, with his left at Fort Conception, and his right resting upon Fuentes
d'Onoro. His position extended to about five miles; and here, although
vastly inferior in numbers, yet relying upon the bravery of the troops, and
the moral ascendency acquired by their pursuit of the enemy, he finally
resolved upon giving them battle.

Being sent with despatches to Pack's brigade, which formed the blockading
force at Almeida, I did not reach Fuentes d'Onoro until the evening of the
3d. The thundering of the guns, which, even at the distance I was at, was
plainly heard, announced that an attack had taken place, but it by no means
prepared me for the scene which presented itself on my return.

The village of Fuentes d'Onoro, one of the most beautiful in Spain, is
situated in a lovely valley, where all the charms of verdure so peculiar to
the Peninsula seemed to have been scattered with a lavish hand. The citron
and the arbutus, growing wild, sheltered every cottage door, and the
olive and the laurel threw their shadows across the little rivulet which
traversed the village. The houses, observing no uniform arrangement,
stood wherever the caprice or the inclination of the builder suggested,
surrounded with little gardens, the inequality of the ground imparting a
picturesque feature to even the lowliest hut, while upon a craggy eminence
above the rest, an ancient convent and a ruined chapel looked down upon the
little peaceful hamlet with an air of tender protection.

Hitherto this lovely spot had escaped all the ravages of war. The light
division of our army had occupied it for months long; and every family was
gratefully remembered by some one or other of our officers, and more than
one of our wounded found in the kind and affectionate watching of these
poor peasants the solace which sickness rarely meets with when far from
home and country.

It was, then, with an anxious heart I pressed my horse forward into a
gallop as the night drew near. The artillery had been distinctly heard
during the day, and while I burned with eagerness to know the result, I
felt scarcely less anxious for the fate of that little hamlet whose name
many a kind story had implanted in my memory. The moon was shining brightly
as I passed the outpost, and leading my horse by the bridle, descended the
steep and rugged causeway to the village beneath me. The lanterns were
moving rapidly to and fro; the measured tread of infantry at night--that
ominous sound, which falls upon the heart so sadly--told me that they
were burying the dead. The air was still and breathless; not a sound was
stirring save the step of the soldiery, and the harsh clash of the shovel
as it struck the earth. I felt sad and sick at heart, and leaned against a
tree; a nightingale concealed in the leaves was pouring forth its plaintive
notes to the night air, and its low warble sounded like the dirge of the
departed. Far beyond, in the plain, the French watch-fires were burning,
and I could see from time to time the fatigue-parties moving in search of
their wounded. At this moment the clock of the convent struck eleven, and a
merry chime rang out, and was taken up by the echoes till it melted away in
the distance. Alas, where were those whose hearts were wont to feel cheered
at that happy peal; whose infancy it had gladdened; whose old age it has
hallowed? The fallen walls, the broken roof-trees, the ruin and desolation
on every side, told too plainly that they had passed away forever! The
smoking embers, the torn-up pathway, denoted the hard-fought struggle; and
as I passed along, I could see that every garden, where the cherry and the
apple-blossom were even still perfuming the air, had now its sepulchre.

"Halt, there!" cried a hoarse voice in front. "You cannot pass this
way,--the commander-in-chief's quarters."

I looked up and beheld a small but neat-looking cottage, which seemed to
have suffered less than the others around. Lights were shining brightly
from the windows, and I could even detect from time to time a figure
muffled up in a cloak passing to and fro across the window; while another,
seated at a table, was occupied in writing. I turned into a narrow path
which led into the little square of the village, and here, as I approached,
the hum and murmur of voices announced a bivouac party. Stopping to ask
what had been the result of the day, I learned that a tremendous attack
had been made by the French in column upon the village, which was at first
successful; but that afterwards the Seventy-first and Seventy-ninth,
marching down from the heights, had repulsed the enemy, and driven them
beyond the Dos Casas. Five hundred had fallen in that fierce encounter,
which was continued through every street and alley of the little hamlet.
The gallant Highlanders now occupied the battle-field; and hearing that the
cavalry brigade was some miles distant, I willingly accepted their offer to
share their bivouac, and passed the remainder of the night among them.

When day broke, our troops were under arms, but the enemy showed no
disposition to renew the attack. We could perceive, however, from the road
to the southward, by the long columns of dust, that reinforcements were
still arriving; and learned during the morning, from a deserter, that
Massena himself had come up, and Bessieres also, with twelve hundred
cavalry, and a battery of the Imperial Guard.

From the movements observable in the enemy, it was soon evident that the
battle, though deferred, was not abandoned; and the march of a strong
force towards the left of their position induced our commander-in-chief to
despatch the Seventh Division, under Houston, to occupy the height of Naval
d'Aver--our extreme right--in support of which our brigade of cavalry
marched as a covering force. The British position was thus unavoidably
extended to the enormous length of seven miles, occupying a succession of
small eminences, from the division at Fort Conception to the height of
Naval d'Aver,--Fuentes d'Onoro forming nearly the centre of the line.

It was evident, from the thickening combinations of the French, that a more
dreadful battle was still in reserve for us; and yet never did men look
more anxiously for the morrow.

As for myself, I felt a species of exhilaration I had never before
experienced; the events of the preceding day came dropping in upon me from
every side, and at every new tale of gallantry or daring I felt my heart
bounding with excited eagerness to win also my need of honorable praise.

Crawfurd, too, had recognized me in the kindest manner; and while saying
that he did not wish to withdraw me from my regiment on a day of battle,
added that he would make use of me for the present on his staff. Thus was
I engaged, from early in the morning till late in the evening, bringing
orders and despatches along the line. The troop-horse I rode--for I
reserved my gray for the following day--was scarcely able to carry me
along, as towards dusk I jogged along in the direction of Naval d'Aver.
When I did reach our quarters, the fires were lighted, and around one of
them I had the good fortune to find a party of the Fourteenth occupied in
discussing a very appetizing little supper. The clatter of plates, and the
popping of champagne corks were most agreeable sounds. Indeed, the latter
appeared to me so much too flattering an illusion, that I hesitated giving
credit to my senses in the matter, when Baker called out,--

"Come, Charley, sit down; you're just in the nick. Tom Marsden is giving us
a benefit. You know Tom?"

And here he presented me in due form to that best of commissaries and most
hospitable of horse-dealers.

"I can't introduce you to my friend on my right," continued Baker, "for my
Spanish is only a skeleton battalion; but he's a trump,--that I'll vouch
for; never flinches his glass, and looks as though he enjoyed all our
nonsense."

The Spaniard, who appeared to comprehend that he was alluded to, gravely
saluted me with a low bow, and offered his glass to hobnob with me. I
returned the curtesy with becoming ceremony, while Hampden whispered in my
ear,--

"A fine-looking fellow. You know who he is? Julian, the Guerilla chief."

I had heard much of both the strangers. Tom Marsden was a household word
in every cavalry brigade; equally celebrated were his contracts and his
claret. He knew every one, from Lord Wellington to the last-joined cornet;
and while upon a march, there was no piece of better fortune than to be
asked to dine with him. So in the very thick of battle, Tom's critical eye
was scanning the squadrons engaged, with an accuracy as to the number of
fresh horses that would be required upon the morrow that nothing but long
practice and infinite coolness could have conferred.

Of the Guerilla I need not speak. The bold feats he accomplished, the aid
he rendered to the cause of his country, have made his name historical. Yet
still with all this, fatigue, more powerful than my curiosity, prevailed,
and I sank into a heavy sleep upon the grass, while my merry companions
kept up their revels till near morning. The last piece of consciousness I
am sensible of was seeing Julian spreading his wide mantle over me as I
lay, while I heard his deep voice whisper a kind wish for my repose.




CHAPTER XXIII.


THE BATTLE OF FUENTES D'ONORO.

So soundly did I sleep that the tumult and confusion of the morning never
awoke me; and the Guerilla, whose cavalry were stationed along the edge of
the ravine near the heights of Echora, would not permit of my being roused
before the last moment. Mike stood near me with my horses, and it was only
when the squadrons were actually forming that I sprang to my feet and
looked around me.

The day was just breaking; a thick mist lay upon the parched earth, and
concealed everything a hundred yards from where we stood. From this dense
vapor the cavalry defiled along the base of the hill, followed by the
horse artillery and the Guards, disappearing again as they passed us,
but proving, by the mass of troops now assembled, that our position was
regarded as the probable point of attack.

While the troops continued to take up their position, the sun shone out,
and a slight breeze blowing at the same, moment, the heavy clouds moved
past, and we beheld the magnificent panorama of the battle-field. Before
us, at the distance of less than half a league, the French cavalry were
drawn up in three strong columns; the Cuirassiers of the Guard, plainly
distinguished by their steel cuirasses, flanked by the Polish Lancers and a
strong huzzar brigade; a powerful artillery train supported the left, and
an infantry force occupied the entire space between the right and the
rising ground opposite Poco Velho. Farther to the right again, the column
destined for the attack of Fuentes d'Onoro were forming, and we could see
that, profiting by their past experience, they were bent upon attacking the
village with an overwhelming force.

For above two hours the French continued to manoeuvre, more than one
alteration having taken place in their disposition; fresh battalions were
moved towards the front, and gradually the whole of their cavalry was
assembled on the extreme left in front of our position. Our people were
ordered to breakfast where we stood; and a little after seven o'clock a
staff officer came riding down the line, followed in a few moments after by
General Crawfurd, when no sooner was his well-known brown cob recognized by
the troops than a hearty cheer greeted him along the whole division.

"Thank ye, boys; thank ye, boys, with all my heart. No man feels more
sensibly what that cheer means than I do. Guards, Lord Wellington relies
upon your maintaining this position, which is essential to the safety of
the whole line. You will be supported by the light division. I need say
no more. If such troops cannot keep their ground, none can. Fourteenth,
there's your place; the artillery and the Sixteenth are with you. They've
the odds of us in numbers, lads; but it will tell all the better in the
'Gazette.' I see they're moving; so fall in now, fall in; and Merivale,
move to the front. Ramsey, prepare to open your fire on the attacking
squadrons."

As he spoke, the low murmuring sound of distantly moving cavalry crept
along the earth, growing louder and louder, till at length we could detect
the heavy tramp of the squadrons as they came on in a trot, our pace
being merely a walk. While we thus advanced into the plain, the artillery
unlimbered behind us, and the Spanish cavalry, breaking into skirmishers,
dashed boldly to the front.

It was an exciting moment. The ground dipped between the two armies so
as to conceal the head of the advancing column of the French, and as the
Spanish skirmishers disappeared down the ridge, our beating hearts and
straining eyes followed their last horseman.

"Halt! halt!" was passed from squadron to squadron, and the same instant
the sharp ring of the pistol shots and the clash of steel from the valley,
told us the battle had begun. We could hear the Guerilla war-cry mingle
with the French shout, while the thickening crash of fire-arms implied a
sharper conflict. Our fellows were already manifesting some impatience
to press on, when a Spanish horseman appeared above the ridge, another
followed, and another, and then pell-mell, broken and disordered, they
fell back before the pursuing cavalry in flying masses; while the French,
charging them hotly home, utterly routed and repulsed them.

The leading squadrons of the French now fell back upon their support; the
column of attack thickened, and a thundering noise between their masses
announced their brigade of light guns as they galloped to the front. It was
then for the first time that I felt dispirited; far as my eye could stretch
the dense mass of sabres extended, defiling from the distant hills and
winding its slow length across the plain. I turned to look at our line,
scarce one thousand strong, and could not help feeling that our hour was
come: the feeling flashed vividly across my mind, but the next instant I
felt my cheek redden with shame as I gazed upon the sparkling eyes and bold
looks around me, the lips compressed, the hands knitted to their sabres;
all were motionless, but burning to advance.

The French had halted on the brow of the hill to form, when Merivale came
cantering up to us.

"Fourteenth, are you ready? Are you ready, lads?"

"Ready, sir! ready!" re-echoed along the line.

"Then push them home and charge! Charge!" cried he, raising his voice to a
shout at the last word.

Heavens, what a crash was there! Our horses, in top condition, no sooner
felt the spur than they bounded madly onwards. The pace--for the distance
did not exceed four hundred yards--was like racing. To resist the impetus
of our approach was impossible; and without a shot fired, scarcely a
sabre-cut exchanged, we actually rode down their advanced squadrons,
hurling them headlong upon their supporting division, and rolling men and
horses beneath us on every side. The French fell back upon their artillery;
but before they could succeed in opening their fire upon us, we had
wheeled, and carrying off about seventy prisoners, galloped back to our
position with the loss of but two men in the affair. The whole thing was so
sudden, so bold, and so successful, that I remember well, as we rode
back, a hearty burst of laughter was ringing through the squadron at the
ludicrous display of horsemanship the French presented as they tumbled
headlong down the hill; and I cannot help treasuring the recollection,
for from that moment, all thought of anything short of victory completely
quitted my mind, and many of my brother officers, who had participated in
my feelings at the commencement of the day, confessed to me afterwards that
it was then for the first time they felt assured of beating the enemy.

While we slowly fell back to our position, the French were seen advancing
in great force from the village of Almeida, to the attack of Poco Velho;
they came on at a rapid pace, their artillery upon their front and flank,
large masses of cavalry hovering around them. The attack upon the village
was now opened by the large guns; and amidst the booming of the artillery
and the crashing volleys of small fire-arms, rose the shout of the
assailants, and the wild cry of the Guerilla cavalry, who had formed in
front of the village. The French advanced firmly, driving back the pickets,
and actually inundated the devoted village with a shower of grape; the
blazing fires burst from the ignited roofs; and the black, dense smoke,
rising on high, seemed to rest like a pall over the little hamlet.

The conflict was now a tremendous one; our Seventh Division held the
village with the bayonet; but the French continuing to pour in mass upon
mass, drove them back with loss, and at the end of an hour's hard fighting,
took possession of the place.

The wood upon the left flank was now seen to swarm with light infantry, and
the advancement of their whole left proved that they meditated to turn our
flank; the space between the village and the hill of Naval d'Aver became
thus the central position; and here the Guerilla force, led on by Julian
Sanches, seemed to await the French with confidence. Soon, however, the
cuirassiers came galloping to the spot, and almost without exchanging a
sabre-cut, the Guerillas fell back, and retired behind the Turones. This
movement of Julian was more attributable to anger than to fear; for his
favorite lieutenant, being mistaken for a French officer, was shot by a
soldier of the Guards a few minutes before.

Montbrun pursued the Guerillas with some squadrons of horse, but they
turned resolutely upon the French, and not till overwhelmed by numbers did
they show any disposition to retreat.

The French, however, now threw forward their whole cavalry, and driving
back the English horse, succeeded in turning the right of the Seventh
Division. The battle by this time was general. The staff officers who came
up from the left informed us that Fuentes d'Onoro was attacked in force,
Massena himself leading the assault in person; while thus for seven miles
the fight was maintained hotly at intervals, it was evident that upon the
maintenance of our position the fortune of the day depended. Hitherto we
had been repulsed from the village and the wood; and the dark masses of
infantry which were assembled upon our right, seemed to threaten the hill
of Naval d'Aver with as sad a catastrophe.

Crawfurd came now galloping up among us, his eye flashing fire, and his
uniform splashed and covered with foam:

"Steady Sixteenth, steady! Don't blow your horses! Have your fellows
advanced, Malcolm?" said he, turning to an officer who stood beside him.
"Ay, there they go!" pointing with his finger to the wood where, as he
spoke, the short ringing of the British rifle proclaimed the advance of
that brigade. "Let the cavalry prepare to charge! And now, Ramsey, let us
give it them home!"

Scarcely were the words spoken, when the squadrons were formed, and in an
instant after, the French light infantry were seen retreating from the
wood, and flying in disorderly masses across the plain. Our squadrons
riding down among them, actually cut them to atoms, while the light
artillery, unlimbering, threw in a deadly discharge of grape-shot.

"To the right, Fourteenth, to the right!" cried General Stewart. "Have at
their hussars!"

Whirling by them, we advanced at a gallop, and dashed towards the enemy,
who, not less resolutely bent, came boldly forward to meet us. The shock
was terrific! The leading squadrons on both sides went down almost to a
man, and all order being lost, the encounter became one of hand to hand.

The struggle was deadly; neither party would give way; and while fortune
now inclined hither and thither, Sir Charles Stewart singled out the French
general, Lamotte, and carried him off his prisoner. Meanwhile Montbrun's
cavalry and the cuirassiers came riding up, and the retreat now sounding
through our ranks, we were obliged to fall back upon the infantry. The
French pursued us hotly; and so rapid was their movement, that before
Ramsey's brigade could limber up and away, their squadrons had surrounded
him and captured his guns.

"Where is Ramsey?" cried Crawfurd, as he galloped to the head of our
division. "Cut off--cut off! Taken, by G----! There he goes!" said he,
pointing with his finger, as a dense cloud of mingled smoke and dust moved
darkly across the plain. "Form into column once more!"

As he spoke, the dense mass before us seemed agitated by some mighty
commotion; the flashing of blades, and the rattling of small-arms, mingled
with shouts of triumph or defiance, burst forth, and the ominous cloud
lowering more darkly, seemed peopled by those in deadly strife. An English
cheer pealed high above all other sounds; a second followed; the mass was
rent asunder, and like the forked lightning from a thunder-cloud, Ramsey
rode forth at the head of his battery, the horses bounding madly, while the
guns sprang behind them like things of no weight; the gunners leaped to
their places, and fighting hand to hand with the French cavalry, they flew
across the plain.

"Nobly done, gallant Ramsey!" said a voice behind me. I turned at the
sound; it was Lord Wellington who spoke. My eye fixed upon his stern
features, I forgot all else; when he suddenly recalled me to my
recollection by saying,--

"Follow your brigade, sir. Charge!"

In an instant I was with my people, who, intervening betwixt Ramsey and his
pursuers, repulsed the enemy with loss, and carried off several prisoners.
The French, however, came up in greater strength; overwhelming masses of
cavalry came sweeping upon us, and we were obliged to retire behind the
light division, which rapidly formed into squares to resist the cavalry.
The Seventh Division, which was more advanced, were, however, too late for
this movement, and before they could effect their formation, the French
were upon them. At this moment they owed their safety to the Chasseurs
Britanniques, who poured in a flanking fire, so close, and with so deadly
an aim, that their foes recoiled, beaten and bewildered.

Meanwhile the French had become masters of Pogo Velho; the formidable
masses had nearly outflanked us on the right. The battle was lost if we
could not fall back upon our original position, and concentrate our force
upon Fuentes d'Onoro. To effect this was a work of great difficulty; but
no time was to be lost. The Seventh Division were ordered to cross the
Turones, while Crawfurd, forming the light division into squares, covered
their retreat, and supported by the cavalry, sustained the whole force of
the enemy's attack.

Then was the moment to witness the cool and steady bravery of British
infantry; the squares dotted across the enormous plain seemed as nothing
amidst that confused and flying multitude, composed of commissariat
baggage, camp-followers, peasants, and finally, broken pickets and videttes
arriving from the wood. A cloud of cavalry hovered and darkened around
them; the Polish Lancers shook their long spears, impatient of delay, and
the wild huzzas burst momentarily from their squadrons as they waited for
the word to attack. But the British stood firm and undaunted; and although
the enemy rode round their squares, Montbrun himself at their head, they
never dared to charge them. Meanwhile the Seventh Division fell back, as
if on a parade, and crossing the river, took up their ground at Frenada,
pivoting upon the First Division; the remainder of the line also fell back,
and assumed a position at right angles with their former one, the cavalry
forming in front, and holding the French in check during the movement. This
was a splendid manoeuvre, and when made in face of an overnumbering enemy,
one unmatched during the whole war.

At sight of this new front, the French stopped short, and opened a fire
from their heavy guns. The British batteries replied with vigor and
silenced the enemy's cannon. The cavalry drew out of range, and the
infantry gradually fell back to their former position. While this was going
on, the attack upon Fuentes d'Onoro was continued with unabated vigor.
The three British regiments in the lower town were pierced by the
French tirailleurs, who poured upon them in overwhelming numbers; the
Seventy-ninth were broken, ten companies taken, and Cameron, their colonel,
mortally wounded. Thus the lower village was in the hands of the enemy,
while from the upper town the incessant roll of musketry proclaimed the
obstinate resistance of the British.

At this period the reserves were called up from the right, in time to
resist the additional troops which Drouet continued to bring on. The
French, reinforced by the whole Sixth Corps, now came forward at a
quick-step. Dashing through the ruined streets of the lower town, they
crossed the rivulet, fighting bravely, and charged against the height.
Already their leading files had gained the crag beside the chapel. A French
colonel holding his cap upon his sword-point waved on his men.

The grizzly features of the grenadiers soon appeared, and the dark column,
half-climbing, half-running, were seen scaling the height. A rifle-bullet
sent the French leader tumbling from the precipice; and a cheer--mad and
reckless as the war-cry of an Indian--rent the sky, as the 71st and 79th
Highlanders sprang upon the enemy.

Our part was a short one; advancing in half squadrons, we were concealed
from the observation of the enemy by the thick vineyards which skirted the
lower town, waiting, with impatience, the moment when our gallant infantry
should succeed in turning the tide of battle. We were ordered to dismount,
and stood with our bridles on our arms, anxious and expectant. The charge
of the French column was made close to where we were standing,--the
inspiriting cheers of the officers, the loud _vivas_ of the men, were
plainly heard by us as they rushed to the assault; but the space between
us was intersected by walls and brushwood, which totally prevented the
movements of cavalry.

Fearlessly their dark column moved up the heights, fixing the bayonets
as they went. No tirailleurs preceded them, but the tall shako of the
Grenadier of the Guard was seen in the first rank. Long before the end of
the column had passed us, the leading files were in action. A deafening
peal of musketry--so loud, so dense, it seemed like artillery--burst forth.
A volume of black smoke rolled heavily down from the heights and hid all
from our view, except when the vivid lightning of the platoon firing rent
the veil asunder, and showed us the troops almost in hand to hand conflict.

"It's Picton's Division, I'm certain," cried Merivale; "I hear the bagpipes
of the Highlanders."

"You are right, sir," said Hampden, "the Seventy-first are in the same
brigade, and I know their bugles well. There they go again!"

"Fourteenth! Fourteenth!" cried a voice from behind, and at the same
moment, a staff officer, without his hat, and his horse bleeding from a
recent sabre-cut, came up. "You must move to the rear, Colonel Merivale;
the French have gained the heights! Move round by the causeway; bring up
your squadrons as quickly as you can, and support the infantry!"

In a moment we were in our saddles; but scarcely was the word "to fall in"
given, when a loud cheer rent the very air; the musketry seemed suddenly
to cease, and the dark mass which continued to struggle up the heights
wavered, broke, and turned.

"What can that be?" said Merivale. "What can it mean?"

"I can tell you, sir," said I, proudly, while I felt my heart throb as
though it would bound from my bosom.

"And what is it, boy? Speak!"

"There it goes again! That was an Irish shout! The Eighty-eighth are at
them!"

"By Jove, here they come!" said Hampden. "God help the Frenchmen now!"

The words were not well spoken, when the red coats of our gallant fellows
were seen dashing through the vineyard.

"The steel, boys; nothing but the steel!" shouted a loud voice from the
crag above our heads.

I looked up. It was the stern Picton himself who spoke. The Eighty-eighth
now led the pursuit, and sprang from rock to rock in all the mad
impetuosity of battle; and like some mighty billow rolling before the gale,
the French went down the heights.

"Gallant Eighty-eighth! Gloriously done!" cried Picton, as he waved his
hat.

"Aren't we Connaught robbers, now?" shouted a rich brogue, as its owner,
breathless and bleeding, pressed forward in the charge.

A hearty burst of laughter mingled with the din of the battle.

"Now for it, boys! Now for _our_ work!" said old Merivale, drawing his
sabre as he spoke. "Forward! and charge!"

We waited not a second bidding, but bursting from our concealment,
galloped down into the broken column. It was no regular charge, but an
indiscriminate rush. Scarcely offering resistance, the enemy fell beneath
our sabres, or the still more deadly bayonets of the infantry, who were
inextricably mingled up in the conflict.

The chase was followed up for above half a mile, when we fell back,
fortunately in good time; for the French had opened a heavy fire from their
artillery, and regardless of their own retreating column, poured a shower
of grape among our squadrons. As we retired, the struggling files of the
Rangers joined us,--their faces and accoutrements blackened and begrimed
with powder; many of them, themselves wounded, had captured prisoners; and
one huge fellow of the grenadier company was seen driving before him a
no less powerful Frenchman, and to whom, as he turned from time to time
reluctantly, and scowled upon his jailer, the other vociferated some Irish
imprecation, whose harsh intentions were made most palpably evident by a
flourish of a drawn bayonet.

"Who is he?" said Mike; "who is he, ahagur?"

"Sorra one o' me knows," said the other; "but it's the chap that shot
Lieutenant Mahony, and I never took my eye off him after; and if the
lieutenant's not dead, sure it'll be a satisfaction to him that I cotch
him."

The lower town was now evacuated by the French, who retired beyond the
range of our artillery; the upper continued in the occupation of our
troops; and worn out and exhausted, surrounded by dead and dying, both
parties abandoned the contest, and the battle was over.

Both sides laid claim to the victory; the French, because, having taken the
village of Poco Velho, they had pierced the British line, and compelled
them to fall back and assume a new position; the British, because the
attack upon Fuentes d'Onoro has been successfully resisted, and the
blockade of Almeida--the real object of the battle--maintained. The loss
to each was tremendous; fifteen hundred men and officers, of whom three
hundred were prisoners, were lost by the allies, and a far greater number
fell among the forces of the enemy.

After the action, a brigade of the light division released the troops in
the village, and the armies bivouacked once more in sight of each other.




CHAPTER XXIV.


A RENCONTRE.

"LIEUTENANT O'MALLEY, 14th Light Dragoons, to serve as extra aide-de-camp
to Major-General Crawfurd, until the pleasure of his Royal Highness the
Prince Regent is known." Such was the first paragraph of a general order,
dated Fuentes d'Onoro, the day after the battle, which met me as I woke
from a sound and heavy slumber, the result of thirteen hours on horseback.

A staff appointment was not exactly what I desired at the moment; but I
knew that with Crawfurd my duties were more likely to be at the pickets and
advanced posts of the army, than in the mere details of note-writing or
despatch-bearing; besides that, I felt, whenever anything of importance
was to be done, I should always obtain his permission to do duty with my
regiment.

Taking a hurried breakfast, therefore, I mounted my horse, and cantered
over to Villa Formosa, where the general's quarters were, to return my
thanks for the promotion, and take the necessary steps for assuming my new
functions.

Although the sun had risen about two hours, the fatigue of the previous day
had impressed itself upon all around. The cavalry, men and horses, were
still stretched upon the sward, sunk in sleep; the videttes, weary and
tired, seemed anxiously watching for the relief; and the disordered and
confused appearance of everything bespoke that discipline had relaxed its
stern features, in compassion for the bold exertions of the preceding day.
The only contrast to this general air of exhaustion and weariness on every
side was a corps of sappers, who were busily employed upon the high grounds
above the village. Early as it was, they seemed to have been at work
some hours,--at least so their labors bespoke; for already a rampart
of considerable extent had been thrown up, stockades implanted, and a
breastwork was in a state of active preparation. The officer of the party,
wrapped up in a loose cloak, and mounted upon a sharp-looking hackney, rode
hither and thither as the occasion warranted, and seemed, as well as from
the distance I could guess, something of a tartar. At least I could not
help remarking how, at his approach, the several inferior officers seemed
suddenly so much more on the alert, and the men worked with an additional
vigor and activity. I stopped for some minutes to watch him, and seeing
an engineer captain of my acquaintance among the party, couldn't resist
calling out:--

"I say, Hatchard, your friend on the chestnut mare must have had an easier
day yesterday than some of us, or I'll be hanged if he'd be so active this
morning." Hatchard hung his head in some confusion, and did not reply;
and on my looking round, whom should I see before me but the identical
individual I had so coolly been criticising, and who, to my utter horror
and dismay, was no other than Lord Wellington himself. I did not wait for a
second peep. Helter-skelter, through water, thickets, and brambles, away I
went, clattering down the causeway like a madman. If a French squadron had
been behind me, I should have had a stouter heart, although I did not fear
pursuit. I felt his eye was upon me,--his sharp and piercing glance, that
shot like an arrow into me; and his firm look stared at me in every object
around.

Onward I pressed, feeling in the very recklessness of my course some relief
to my sense of shame, and ardently hoping that some accident--some smashed
arm or broken collar-bone--might befall me and rescue me from any notice
my conduct might otherwise call for. I never drew rein till I reached the
Villa Formosa, and pulled up short at a small cottage where a double sentry
apprised me of the general's quarters. As I came up, the low lattice sprang
quickly open, and a figure, half dressed, and more than half asleep,
protruded his head.

"Well, what has happened? Anything wrong?" said he, whom I now recognized
to be General Crawfurd.

"No, nothing wrong, sir," stammered I, with evident confusion. "I'm merely
come to thank you for your kindness in my behalf."

"You seemed in a devil of a hurry to do it, if I'm to judge by the pace
you came at. Come in and take your breakfast with us; I shall be dressed
presently, and you'll meet some of your brother aides-de-camp."

Having given my horse to an orderly, I walked into a little room, whose
humble accommodations and unpretending appearance seemed in perfect
keeping with the simple and unostentatious character of the general. The
preparations for a good and substantial breakfast were, however, before
me, and an English newspaper of a late date spread its most ample pages
to welcome me. I had not been long absorbed in my reading, when the door
opened, and the general, whose toilet was not yet completed, made his
appearance.

"Egad, O'Malley, you startled me this morning. I thought we were in for it
again."

I took this as the most seasonable opportunity to recount my mishap of the
morning, and accordingly, without more ado, detailed the unlucky meeting
with the commander-in-chief. When I came to the end, Crawfurd threw himself
into a chair and laughed till the very tears coursed down his bronzed
features.

"You don't say so, boy? You don't really tell me you said that? By Jove! I
had rather have faced a platoon of musketry than have stood in your shoes!
You did not wait for a reply, I think?"

"No, faith, sir, that I did not!"

"Do you suspect he knows you?"

"I trust not, sir; the whole thing passed so rapidly!"

"Well, it's most unlucky in more ways than one!" He paused for a few
moments as he said this, and then added, "Have you seen the general order?"
pushing towards me a written paper as he spoke. It ran thus:--

    G.O.      ADJUTANT-GENERAL'S OFFICE, VILLA FORMOSA,

    May 6, 1811.

    _Memorandum_.--Commanding officers are requested to send in to
    the military secretary, as soon as possible, the names of officers they
    may wish to have promoted in succession to those who have fallen
    in action."

"Now look at this list. The Honorable Harvey Howard, Grenadier Guards,
to be first lieutenant, _vice_--No, not that. Henry Beauchamp--George
Villiers--ay, here it is! Captain Lyttleton, Fourteenth Light Dragoons,
to be major in the Third Dragoon Guards, _vice_ Godwin, killed in action;
Lieutenant O'Malley to be captain, _vice_ Lyttleton, promoted. You see,
boy, I did not forget you; you were to have had the vacant troop in your
own regiment. Now I almost doubt the prudence of bringing your name under
Lord Wellington's notice. He may have recognized you; and if he did so,
why, I rather think--that is, I suspect--I mean, the quieter you keep the
better."

While I poured forth my gratitude as warmly as I was able for the general's
great kindness to me, I expressed my perfect concurrence in his views.

"Believe me, sir," said I, "I should much rather wait any number of years
for my promotion, than incur the risk of a reprimand; the more so, as it is
not the first time I have blundered with his lordship." I here narrated
my former meeting with Sir Arthur, at which Crawfurd's mirth again burst
forth, and he paced the room, holding his sides in an ecstasy of merriment.

"Come, come, lad, we'll hope for the best; we'll give you the chance that
he has not seen your face, and send the list forward as it is. But here
come our fellows."

As he spoke, the door opened, and three officers of his staff entered, to
whom, being severally introduced, we chatted away about the news of the
morning until breakfast.

"I've frequently heard of you from my friend Hammersley," said Captain
Fitzroy, addressing me. "You were intimately acquainted, I believe?"

"Oh, yes! Pray, where is he now? We have not met for a long time."

"The poor fellow's invalided; that sabre-cut upon his head has turned out
a sad affair, and he's gone back to England on a sick leave. Old Dashwood
took him back with him as private secretary, or something of that sort."

"Ah!" said another, "Dashwood has daughters, hasn't he? No bad notion of
his; for Hammersley will be a baronet some of these days, with a rent-roll
of eight or nine thousand per annum."

"Sir George Dashwood," said I, "has but one daughter, and I am quite sure
that in his kindness to Hammersley no intentions of the kind you mention
were mixed up."

"Well, I don't know," said the third, a pale, sickly youth, with handsome
but delicate features. "I was on Dashwood's staff until a few weeks ago,
and certainly I thought there was something going on between Hammersley
and Miss Lucy, who, be it spoken, is a devilish fine girl, though rather
disposed to give herself airs."

I felt my cheek and my temples boiling like a furnace; my hand trembled as
I lifted my coffee to my lips; and I would have given my expected promotion
twice over to have had any reasonable ground of quarrel with the speaker.

"Egad, lads," said Crawfurd, "that's the very best thing I know about a
command. As a bishop is always sure to portion off his daughters with
deaneries and rectories, so your knowing old general always marries his
among his staff."

This sally was met with the ready laughter of the subordinates, in which,
however little disposed. I was obliged to join.

"You are quite right, sir," rejoined the pale youth; "and Sir George has no
fortune to give his daughter."

"How came it, Horace, that you got off safe?" said Fitzroy, with a certain
air of affected seriousness in his voice and manner. "I wonder they let
such a prize escape them."

"Well, it was not exactly their fault, I do confess. Old Dashwood did the
civil towards me, and _la belle Lucie_ herself was condescending enough to
be less cruel than to the rest of the staff. Her father threw us a good
deal together; and in fact, I believe--I fear--that is--that I didn't
behave quite well."

"You may rest perfectly assured of it, sir," said I; "whatever your
previous conduct may have been, you have completely relieved your mind on
this occasion, and behaved most shamefully."

Had a shell fallen in the midst of us, the faces around me could not have
been more horror-struck than when, in a cool, determined tone, I spoke
these few words. Fitzroy pushed his chair slightly back from the table, and
fixed his eyes full upon me. Crawfurd grew dark-purple over his whole face
and forehead, and looked from one to the other of us without speaking;
while the Honorable Horace Delawar, the individual addressed, never changed
a muscle of his wan and sickly features, but lifting his eyes slowly from
his muffin, lisped softly out,--

"You think so? How very good!"

"General Crawfurd," said I, the moment I could collect myself sufficiently
to speak, "I am deeply grieved that I should so far have forgotten myself
as to disturb the harmony of your table; but when I tell you that Sir
George Dashwood is one of my warmest friends on earth; that from my
intimate knowledge of him, I am certain that gentleman's statements are
either the mere outpourings of folly or worse--"

"By Jove, O'Malley! you have a very singular mode of explaining away the
matter. Delawar, sit down again. Gentlemen, I have only one word to say
about this transaction; I'll have no squabbles nor broils here; from this
room to the guard-house is a five minutes' walk. Promise me, upon your
honors, this altercation ends here, or as sure as my name's Crawfurd, you
shall both be placed under arrest, and the man who refuses to obey me shall
be sent back to England."

Before I well knew in what way to proceed, Mr. Delawar rose and bowed
formally to the general, while I imitated his example; silently we resumed
our places, and after a pause of a few moments, the current of conversation
was renewed, and other topics discussed, but with such evident awkwardness
and constraint that all parties felt relieved when the general rose from
table.

"I say, O'Malley, have you forwarded the returns to the adjutant-general's
office?"

"Yes, sir; I despatched them this morning before leaving my quarters."

"I am glad of it; the irregularities on this score have called forth a
heavy reprimand at headquarters."

I was also glad of it, and it chanced that by mere accident I remembered to
charge Mike with the papers, which, had they not been lying unsealed upon
the table before me, would, in all likelihood, have escaped my attention.
The post started to Lisbon that same morning, to take advantage of which
I had sat up writing for half the night. Little was I aware at the
moment what a mass of trouble and annoyance was in store for me from the
circumstance.




CHAPTER XXV.


ALMEIDA.

On the morning of the 7th we perceived, from a movement in the French camp,
that the wounded were being sent to the rear, and shortly afterwards the
main body of their army commenced its retreat. They moved with slow, and as
it were, reluctant steps; and Bessieres, who commanded the Imperial Guard,
turned his eyes more than once to that position which all the bravery of
his troops was unavailing to capture. Although our cavalry lay in force to
the front of our line, no attempt was made to molest the retreating French;
and Massena, having retired beyond the Aguada, left a strong force to watch
the ford, while the remainder of the army fell back upon Cuidad Rodrigo.

During this time we had succeeded in fortifying our position at Fuentes
d'Onoro so strongly as to resist any new attack, and Lord Wellington now
turned his whole attention to the blockade of Almeida, which, by Massena's
retreat, was abandoned to its fate.

On the morning of the 10th I accompanied General Crawfurd in a
reconnoissance of the fortress, which, from the intelligence we had lately
received, could not much longer hold out against our blockade. The fire
from the enemy's artillery was, however, hotly maintained; and as night
fell, some squadrons of the Fourteenth, who were picketed near, were unable
to light their watch-fires, being within reach of their shot. As the
darkness increased so did the cannonade, and the bright flashes from the
walls and the deep booming of the artillery became incessant.

A hundred conjectures were afloat to account for the circumstance; some
asserting that what we heard were mere signals to Massena's army; and
others, that Brennier was destroying and mutilating the fortress before he
evacuated it to the allies.

It was little past midnight when, tired from the fatigues of the day, I had
fallen asleep beneath a tree, an explosion, louder than any which preceded
it, burst suddenly forth, and as I awoke and looked about me, I perceived
the whole heavens illuminated by one bright glare, while the crashing
noise of falling stones and crumbling masonry told me that a mine had been
sprung; the moment after, all was calm and still and motionless; a thick
black smoke increasing the sombre darkness of the night shut out every star
from view, and some drops of heavy rain began to fall.

The silence, ten times more appalling than the din which preceded it,
weighed heavily upon my senses, and a dread of some unknown danger crept
over me; the exhaustion, however, was greater than my fear, and again I
sank into slumber.

Scarcely had I been half an hour asleep, when the blast of a trumpet again
awoke me, and I found, amidst the confusion and excitement about, that
something of importance had occurred. Questions were eagerly asked on all
sides, but no one could explain what had happened. Towards the town all was
as still as death, but a dropping, irregular fire of musketry issued from
the valley beside the Aguada. "What can this mean; what can it be?" we
asked of each other. "A sortie from the garrison," said one; "A night
attack by Massena's troops," cried another; and while thus we disputed and
argued, a horseman was heard advancing along the road at the top of his
speed.

"Where are the cavalry?" cried a voice I recognized as one of my brother
aides-de-camp. "Where are the Fourteenth?"

A cheer from our party answered this question, and the next moment,
breathless and agitated, he rode in among us.

"What is it? Are we attacked?"

"Would to Heaven that were all! But come along, lads, follow me."

"What can it be, then?" said I again; while my anxiety knew no bounds.

"Brennier has escaped; burst his way through Pack's Division, and has
already reached Valde Mula."

"The French have escaped!" was repeated from mouth to mouth; while,
pressing spurs to our horses, we broke into a gallop, and dashed forward in
the direction of the musketry. We soon came up with the 36th Infantry, who,
having thrown away their knapsacks, were rapidly pressing the pursuit. The
maledictions which burst from every side proved how severely the misfortune
was felt by all, while the eager advance of the men bespoke how ardently
they longed to repair the mishap.

Dark as was the night, we passed them in a gallop, when suddenly the
officer who commanded the leading squadron called out to halt.

"Take care there, lads!" cried he; "I hear the infantry before us; we shall
be down upon our own people."

The words were hardly spoken, when a bright flash blazed out before us, and
a smashing volley was poured into the squadron.

"The French! the French, by Jove!" said Hampden. "Forward, boys! charge
them!"

Breaking into open order, to avoid our wounded comrades, several of whom
had fallen by the fire, we rode down among them. In a moment their order
was broken, their ranks pierced, and fresh squadrons coming up at the
instant, they were sabred to a man.

After this the French pursued their march in silence, and even when
assembling in force we rode down upon their squares, they never halted nor
fired a shot. At Barba del Puerco, the ground being unfit for cavalry, the
Thirty-sixth took our place, and pressed them hotly home. Several of
the French were killed, and above three hundred made prisoners, but our
fellows, following up the pursuit too rashly, came upon an advanced body of
Massena's force, drawn up to await and cover Brennier's retreat; the result
was the loss of above thirty men in killed and wounded.

Thus were the great efforts of the three preceding days rendered fruitless
and nugatory. To maintain this blockade, Lord Wellington, with an inferior
force, and a position by no means strong, had ventured to give the enemy
battle; and now by the unskilfulness of some, and the negligence of others,
were all his combinations thwarted, and the French general enabled to march
his force through the midst of the blockading columns almost unmolested and
uninjured.

Lord Wellington's indignation was great, as well it might be; the prize for
which he had contested was torn from his grasp at the very moment he had
won it, and although the gallantry of the troops in the pursuit might,
under other circumstances, have called forth eulogium, his only observation
on the matter was a half-sarcastic allusion to the inconclusive effects of
undisciplined bravery. "Notwithstanding," says the general order of the
day, "what has been printed in gazettes and newspapers, we have never seen
small bodies, unsupported, successfully opposed to large; nor has the
experience of any officer realized the stories which all have read, of
whole armies being driven by a handful of light infantry and dragoons."




CHAPTER XXVI.


A NIGHT ON THE AZAVA.

Massena was now recalled, and Marmont, having assumed the command of
the French, army, retired towards Salamanca, while our troops went into
cantonments upon the Aguada. A period of inaction succeeded to our previous
life of bustle and excitement, and the whole interest of the campaign was
now centred in Beresford's army, exposed to Soult in Estramadura.

On the 15th Lord Wellington set out for that province, having already
directed a strong force to march upon Badajos.

"Well, O'Malley," said Crawfurd, as he returned from bidding Lord
Wellington good-by, "your business is all right; the commander-in-chief has
signed my recommendation, and you will get your troop."

While I continued to express my grateful acknowledgments for his kindness,
the general, apparently inattentive to all I was saying, paced the room
with hurried steps, stopping every now and then to glance at a large map of
Spain which covered one wall of the apartment, while he muttered to himself
some broken and disjointed sentences.

"Eight leagues--too weak in cavalry--with the left upon Fuenta Grenaldo--a
strong position. O'Malley, you'll take a troop of dragoons and patrol the
country towards Castro; you'll reconnoitre the position the Sixth Corps
occupies, but avoid any collision with the enemy's pickets, keeping the
Azava between you and them. Take rations for three days."

"When shall I set out, sir?"

"Now!" was the reply.

Knowing with what pleasure the hardy veteran recognized anything like
alacrity and despatch, I resolved to gratify him; and before half an hour
had elapsed, was ready with my troop to receive his final orders.

"Well done, boy!" said he, as he came to the door of the hut, "you've lost
no time. I don't believe I have any further instructions to give you; to
ascertain as far as possible the probable movement of the enemy is my
object, that's all." As he spoke this, he waved his hand, and wishing me
"Good-by," walked leisurely back into the house. I saw that his mind was
occupied by other thoughts; and although I desired to obtain some more
accurate information for my guidance, knowing his dislike to questions, I
merely returned his salute, and set forth upon my journey.

The morning was beautiful; the sun had risen about an hour, and the earth,
refreshed by the heavy dew of the night, was breathing forth all its
luxuriant fragrance. The river which flowed beside us was clear as crystal,
showing beneath its eddying current the shining, pebbly bed, while upon
the surface, the water-lilies floated or sank as the motion of the stream
inclined. The tall cork-trees spread their shadows about us, and the richly
plumed birds hopped from branch to branch awaking the echoes with their
notes.

It is but seldom that the heart of man is thoroughly attuned to the
circumstances of the scenery around him. How often do we need a struggle
with ourselves to enjoy the rich and beautiful landscape which lies smiling
in its freshness before us! How frequently do the blue sky and the calm air
look down upon the heart darkened and shadowed with affliction! And how
often have we felt the discrepancy between the lowering look of winter and
the glad sunshine of our hearts! The harmony of the world without with our
thoughts within is one of the purest, as it is one of the greatest, sources
of happiness. Our hopes and our ambitions lose their selfish character when
we feel that fortune smiles upon us from all around, and the flattery which
speaks to our hearts from the bright stars and the blue sky, the peaked
mountain or the humble flower, is greater in its mute eloquence than all
the tongue of man can tell us.

This feeling did I experience in all its fulness as I ruminated upon my
bettered fortunes, and felt within myself that secret instinct that tells
of happiness to come. In such moods of mind my thoughts strayed ever
homewards, and I could not help confessing how little were all my successes
in my eyes, did I not-hope for the day when I should pour forth my tale of
war and battle-field to the ears of those who loved me.

I resolved to write home at once to my uncle. I longed to tell him each
incident of my career, and my heart glowed as I thought over the broken
and disjointed sentences which every cotter around would whisper of my
fortunes, far prouder as they would be in the humble deeds of one they
knew, than in the proudest triumphs of a nation's glory.

Indeed, Mike himself gave the current to my thoughts. After riding beside
me for some time in silence, he remarked,--

"And isn't it Father Rush will be proud when he sees your honor's a
captain; to think of the little boy that he used to take before him on the
ould gray mare for a ride down the avenue,--to think of him being a real
captain, six feet two without his boots, and galloping over the French as
if they were lurchers! Peggy Mahon, that nursed you, will be the proud
woman the day she hears it; and there won't be a soldier sober in his
quarters that night in Portumna barracks! 'Pon my soul, there's not a thing
with a red coat on it, if it was even a scarecrow to frighten the birds
from the barley, that won't be treated with respect when they hear of the
news."

The country through which we travelled was marked at every step by the
traces of a retreating army: the fields of rich corn lay flattened beneath
the tramp of cavalry, or the wheels of the baggage-wagons; the roads, cut
up and nearly impassable, were studded here and there with marks which
indicated a bivouac. At the same time, everything around bore a very
different aspect from what we had observed in Portugal; there, the
vindictive cruelty of the French soldiery had been seen in full sway: the
ruined chateau, the burned villages, the desecrated altars, the murdered
peasantry,--all attested the revengeful spirit of a beaten and baffled
enemy. No sooner, however, had they crossed the frontiers, than, as if by
magic, their character became totally changed. Discipline and obedience
succeeded to recklessness and pillage; and instead of treating the natives
with, inhumanity and cruelty, in all their intercourse with the Spaniards
the French behaved with moderation and even kindness. Paying for
everything, obtaining their billets peaceably and quietly, marching with
order and regularity, they advanced into the heart of the country, showing,
by the most irrefragable proof, the astonishing evidences of a discipline
which, by a word, could convert the lawless irregularities of a ruffian
soldiery into the orderly habits and obedient conduct of a highly-organized
army.

As we neared the Azava, the tracks of the retiring enemy became gradually
less perceptible, and the country, uninjured by the march, extended for
miles around us in all the richness and abundance of a favored climate. The
tall corn, waving its yellow gold, reflected like a sea the clouds that
moved slowly above it. The wild gentian and the laurel grew thickly around,
and the cattle stood basking in the clear streams, while some listless
peasant lounged upon the bank beside them. Strange as all these evidences
of peace and tranquillity were, so near to the devastating track of a
mighty army, yet I have more than once witnessed the fact, and remarked
how, but a short distance from the line of our hurried march, the country
lay untouched and uninjured; and though the clank of arms and the dull roll
of the artillery may have struck upon the ear of the far-off dweller in his
native valley, he listened as he would have done to the passing thunder as
it crashed above him; and when the bright sky and pure air succeeded to
the lowering atmosphere and the darkening storm, he looked forth upon his
smiling fields and happy home, while he muttered to his heart a prayer of
thanksgiving that the scourge was passed.

We bivouacked upon the bank of the river, a truly Salvator Rosa scene;
the rocks, towering high above us, were fissured by the channel of many a
trickling stream, seeking, in its zigzag current, the bright river below.
The dark pine-tree and the oak mingled their foliage with the graceful
cedar, which spread its fan-like branches about us. Through the thick shade
some occasional glimpses of a starry sky could yet be seen, and a faint
yellow streak upon the silent river told that the queen of night was there.

When I had eaten my frugal supper, I wandered forth alone upon the bank
of the stream, now standing to watch its bold sweeps as it traversed the
lonely valley before me, now turning to catch a passing glance at our
red watch-fires and the hardy features which sat around. The hoarse and
careless laugh, the deep-toned voice of some old campaigner holding forth
his tale of flood and field, were the only sounds I heard; and gradually I
strolled beyond the reach of even these. The path beside the river, which
seemed scarped from the rock, was barely sufficient for the passage of
one man, a rude balustrade of wood being the only defence against the
precipice, which, from a height of full thirty feet, looked down upon the
stream. Here and there some broad gleam of moonlight would fall upon the
opposite bank, which, unlike the one I occupied, stretched out into rich
meadow and pasturage, broken by occasional clumps of ilex and beech. River
scenery has been ever a passion with me. I can glory in the bold and broken
outline of a mighty mountain; I can gaze with delighted eyes upon the
boundless seas, and know not whether to like it more in all the mighty
outpouring of its wrath, when the white waves lift their heads to heaven
and break themselves in foam upon the rocky beach, or in the calm beauty of
its broad and mirrored surface, in which the bright world of sun and sky
are seen full many a fathom deep. But far before these, I love the happy
and tranquil beauty of some bright river, tracing its winding current
through valley and through plain, now spreading into some calm and waveless
lake, now narrowing to an eddying stream with mossy rocks and waving trees
darkening over it. There's not a hut, however lowly, where the net of the
fisherman is stretched upon the sward, around whose hearth I do not picture
before me the faces of happy toil and humble contentment, while, from the
ruined tower upon the crag, methinks I hear the ancient sounds of wassail
and of welcome; and though the keep be fissured and the curtain fallen, and
though for banner there "waves some tall wall-flower," I can people its
crumbling walls with images of the past; and the merry laugh of the warder,
and the clanking tread of the mailed warrior, are as palpably before me as
the tangled lichen that now trails from its battlements.

As I wandered on, I reached the little rustic stair which led downward from
the path to the river's side; and on examining farther, perceived that at
this place the stream was fordable; a huge flat rock, filling up a great
part of the river's bed, occupied the middle, on either side of which the
current ran with increased force.

Bent upon exploring, I descended the cliff, and was preparing to cross,
when my attention was attracted by the twinkle of a fire at some distance
from me, on the opposite side; the flame rose and fell in fitful flashes,
as though some hand were ministering to it at the moment. As it was
impossible, from the silence on every side, that it could proceed from a
bivouac of the enemy, I resolved on approaching it, and examining it for
myself. I knew that the shepherds in remote districts were accustomed thus
to pass the summer nights, with no other covering save the blue vault above
them. It was not impossible, too, that it might prove a Guerilla party, who
frequently, in small numbers, hang upon the rear of a retreating army. Thus
conjecturing, I crossed the stream, and quickening my pace, walked forward
in the direction of the blaze. For a moment a projecting rock obstructed my
progress; and while I was devising some means of proceeding farther, the
sound of voices near me arrested my attention. I listened, and what was my
astonishment to hear that they spoke in French. I now crept cautiously to
the verge of the rock and looked over; the moon was streaming in its full
brilliancy upon a little shelving strand beside the stream, and here I
now beheld the figure of a French officer. He was habited in the undress
uniform of a _chasseur a cheval_, but wore no arms; indeed his occupation
at the moment was anything but a warlike one, he being leisurely employed
in collecting some flasks of champagne which apparently had been left to
cool within the stream.

"_Eh bien, Alphonse!_" said a voice in the direction of the fire, "what are
you delaying for?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," said the other; "but, _par Dieu!_ I can only find
five of our bottles; one seems to have been carried away by the stream."

"No matter," replied the other, "we are but three of us, and one is, or
should be, on the sick list."

The only answer to this was the muttered chorus of a French drinking-song,
interrupted at intervals by an imprecation upon the missing flask. It
chanced, at this moment, that a slight clinking noise attracted me, and on
looking down, I perceived at the foot of the rock the prize he sought for.
It had been, as he conceived, carried away by an eddy of the stream and was
borne, as a true prisoner-of-war, within my grasp. I avow that from this
moment my interest in the scene became considerably heightened; such a waif
as a bottle of champagne was not to be despised in circumstances like mine;
and I watched with anxious eyes every gesture of the impatient Frenchman,
and alternately vibrated between hope and fear, as he neared or receded
from the missing flask.

"Let it go to the devil," shouted his companion, once more. "Jacques has
lost all patience with you."

"Be it so, then," said the other, as he prepared to take up his burden. At
this instant I made a slight effort so to change my position as to obtain
a view of the rest of the party. The branch by which I supported myself,
however, gave way beneath my grasp with a loud crash. I lost my footing,
and slipping downward from the rock, came plump into the stream below. The
noise, the splash, and more than all, the sudden appearance of a man beside
him, astounded the Frenchman, who almost let fall his pannier, and thus we
stood confronting each other for at least a couple of minutes in silence. A
hearty burst of laughter from both parties terminated this awkward moment,
while the Frenchman, with the readiness of his country, was the first to
open the negotiation.

"_Sacre Dieu!_" said he, "what can you be doing here? You're English,
without doubt."

"Even so," said I; "but that is the very question I was about to ask you;
what are you doing here?"

"_Eh bien_," replied the other, gayly, "you shall be answered in all
frankness. Our captain was wounded in the action of the 8th, and we heard
had been carried up the country by some peasants. As the army fell back, we
obtained permission to go in search of him. For two days all was fruitless;
the peasantry fled at our approach; and although we captured some of our
stolen property--among other things, the contents of this basket--yet we
never came upon the track of our comrade till this evening. A good-hearted
shepherd had taken him to his hut, and treated him with every kindness,
but no sooner did he hear the gallop of our horses and the clank of our
equipments, than, fearing himself to be made a prisoner, he fled up the
mountains, leaving our friend behind him; _voila notre histoire_. Here we
are, three in all, one of us with a deep sabre-cut in his shoulder. If you
are the stronger party, we are, I suppose, your prisoners; if not--"

What was to have followed I know not, for at this moment his companion, who
had finally lost all patience, came suddenly to the spot.

"A prisoner," cried he, placing a heavy hand upon my shoulder, while with
the other he held his drawn sword pointed towards my breast.

To draw a pistol from my bosom was the work of a second; and while gently
turning the point of his weapon away, I coolly said,--

"Not so fast, my friend, not so fast! The game is in my hands, not yours. I
have only to pull this trigger, and my dragoons are upon you; whatever fate
befall me, yours is certain."

A half-scornful laugh betrayed the incredulity of him I addressed, while
the other, apparently anxious to relieve the awkwardness of the moment,
suddenly broke in with,--

"He is right, Auguste, and you are wrong; we are in his power; that is,"
added he, smiling, "if he believes there is any triumph in capturing such
_pauvres diables_ as ourselves."

The features of him he addressed suddenly lost their scornful expression,
and sheathing his sword with an air of almost melodramatic solemnity,
he gravely pulled up his mustaches, and after a pause of a few seconds,
solemnly ejaculated a malediction upon his fortune.

"_C'est toujours ainsi_," said he, with a bitterness that only a Frenchman
can convey when cursing his destiny. "_Soyez bon enfant_, and see what will
come of it. Only be good-natured, only be kind, and if you haven't bad luck
at the end of it, it's only because fortune has a heavier stroke in reserve
for you hereafter."

I could not help smiling at the Frenchman's philosophy, which, assuming
as a good augury, he gayly said, "So, then, you'll not make us prisoners.
Isn't it so?"

"Prisoners," said the other, "nothing of the kind. Come and sup with us;
I'll venture to say our larder is as well stocked as your own; in any case
an omelette, a cold chicken, and a glass of champagne are not bad things in
our circumstances."

I could not help laughing outright at the strangeness of the proposal.
"I fear I must decline," said I; "you seem to forget I am placed here to
watch, not to join you."

"_A la bonne heure_," cried the younger of the two; "do both. Come along;
_soyez bon camarade_; you are always near your own people, so don't refuse
us."

In proportion as I declined, they both became more pressing in their
entreaties, and at last, I began to dread lest my refusal might seem to
proceed from some fear as to the good faith of the invitation, and I never
felt so awkwardly placed as when one plumply pressed me by saying,--

"_Mais pourquoi pas, mon cher?_"

I stammered out something about duty and discipline, when they both
interrupted me by a long burst of laughter.

"Come, come!" said they; "in an hour--in half an hour, if you will--you
shall be back with your own people. We've had plenty of fighting latterly,
and we are likely to have enough in future; we know something of each other
by this time in the field; let us see how we get on in the bivouac!"

Resolving not to be outdone in generosity, I replied at once, "Here goes,
then!"

Five minutes afterwards I found myself seated at their bivouac fire. The
captain, who was the oldest of the party, was a fine soldier-like fellow of
some forty years old; he had served in the Imperial Guard through all the
campaigns of Italy and Austria, and abounded in anecdotes of the French
army. From him I learned many of those characteristic traits which so
eminently distinguish the imperial troops, and saw how completely their
bravest and boldest feats of arms depended upon the personal valor of him
who led them on. From the daring enterprise of Napoleon at Lodi to the
conduct of the lowest corporal in the _grande armee_, the picture presents
nothing but a series of brilliant and splendid chivalry; while, at the same
time, the warlike character of the nation is displayed by that instinctive
appreciation of courage and daring which teaches them to follow their
officers to the very cannon's mouth.

"It was at Elchingen," said the captain, "you should have seen them. The
regiment in which I was a lieutenant was ordered to form close column, and
charge through a narrow ravine to carry a brigade of guns, which, by a
flanking fire, were devastating our troops. Before we could reach the
causeway, we were obliged to pass an open plain in which the ground dipped
for about a hundred yards; the column moved on, and though it descended one
hill, not a man ever mounted the opposite one. A very avalanche of balls
swept the entire valley; and yet amidst the thunder and the smoke, the red
glare of the artillery, and the carnage around them, our grenadiers marched
firmly up. At last, Marshal Ney sent an aide-de-camp with orders to the
troops to lie flat down, and in this position the artillery played over
us for above half an hour. The Austrians gradually slackened, and finally
discontinued their fire; this was the moment to resume the attack. I crept
cautiously to my knees and looked about. One word brought my men around me;
but I found to my horror that of a battalion who came into action fourteen
hundred strong, not five hundred remained; and that I myself, a mere
lieutenant, was now the senior officer of the regiment. Our gallant colonel
lay dead beside my feet. At this instant a thought struck me. I remembered
a habit he possessed in moments of difficulty and danger, of placing in his
shako a small red plume which he commonly carried in his belt. I searched
for it, and found it. As I held it aloft, a maddening cheer burst around
me, while from out the line each officer sprang madly forward, and rushed
to the head of the column. It was no longer a march. With a loud cry of
vengeance, the mass rushed forward, the men trying to outstrip their
officers, and come first in contact with the foe. Like tigers on the
spring, they fell upon the enemy, who, crushed, overwhelmed, and massacred,
lay in slaughtered heaps around the cannon. The cavalry of the Guard came
thundering on behind us; a whole division followed; and three thousand five
hundred prisoners, and fourteen pieces of artillery were captured.

"I sat upon the carriage of a gun, my face begrimed with powder, and my
uniform blackened and blood-stained. The whole thing appeared like some
shocking dream. I felt a hand upon my shoulder, while a rough voice called
in my ear, '_Capitaine du soixante-neuvieme, tu es mon frere!_'

"It was Ney who spoke. This," added the brave captain, his eyes filling as
he said the words,--"this is the sabre he gave me."

I know not why I have narrated this anecdote; it has little in itself, but
somehow, to me it brings back in all its fulness the recollection of that
night.

There was something so strongly characteristic of the old Napoleonist
in the tone of his narrative that I listened throughout with breathless
attention. I began to feel too, for the first time, what a powerful arm
in war the Emperor had created by fostering the spirit of individual
enterprise. The field thus opened to fame and distinction left no bounds
to the ambition of any. The humble conscript, as he tore himself from the
embraces of his mother, wiped his tearful eyes to see before him in the
distance the baton of a marshal. The bold soldier who stormed a battery
felt his heart beat more proudly and more securely beneath the cordon of
the Legion than behind a cuirass of steel; and to a people in whom the
sense of duty alone would seem cold, barren, and inglorious, he had
substituted a highly-wrought chivalrous enthusiasm; and by the _prestige_
of his own name, the proud memory of his battles, and the glory of those
mighty tournaments at which all Europe were the spectators, he had
converted a nation into an army.

By a silent and instinctive compact we appeared to avoid those topics of
the campaign in which the honor of our respective arms was interested; and
once, when, by mere accident, the youngest of the party adverted to Fuentes
d'Onoro, the old captain adroitly turned the current of the conversation by
saying, "Come, Alphonse, let's have a song."

"Yes," said the other. "_Les Pas de Charge_."

"No, no," said the captain; "if I am to have a choice, let it be that
little Breton song you gave us on the Danube."

"So be it then," said Alphonse. "Here goes!"

I have endeavored to convey, by a translation, the words he sang; but I
feel conscious how totally their feeling and simplicity are lost when
deprived of their own _patois_, and the wild but touching melody that
accompanied them.

    THE BRETON HOME.

    When the battle is o'er, and the sounds of fight
    Have closed with the closing day,
    How happy around the watch-fire's light
    To chat the long hours away;
    To chat the long hours away, my boy,
    And talk of the days to come,
    Or a better still and a purer joy,
    To think of our far-off home.

    How many a cheek will then grow pale,
    That never felt a tear!
    And many a stalwart heart will quail,
    That never quailed in fear!
    And the breast that like some mighty rock
    Amidst the foaming sea
    Bore high against the battle's shock
    Now heaves like infancy.

    And those who knew each other not
    Their hands together steal,
    Each thinks of some long hallowed spot,
    And all like brothers feel:
    Such holy thoughts to all are given;
    The lowliest has his part;
    The love of home, like love of heaven,
    Is woven in our heart.

There was a pause as he concluded, each sank in his own reflections. How
long we should have thus remained, I know not; but we were speedily aroused
from our reveries by the tramp of horses near us. We listened, and could
plainly detect in their rude voices and coarse laughter the approach of a
body of Guerillas. We looked from one to the other in silence and in fear.
Nothing could be more unfortunate should we be discovered. Upon this point
we were left little time to deliberate; for with a loud cheer, four Spanish
horsemen galloped up to the spot, their carbines in the rest. The Frenchmen
sprang to their feet, and seized their sabres, bent upon making a resolute
resistance. As for me, my determination was at once taken. Remaining
quietly seated upon the grass, I stirred not for a moment, but addressing
him who appeared to be the chief of the Guerillas, said, in Spanish:--

"These are my prisoners; I am a British officer of dragoons, and my party
is yonder."

This evidently unexpected declaration seemed to surprise them, and they
conferred for a few moments together. Meanwhile they were joined by two
others, in one of whom we could recognize, by his costume, the real leader
of the party.

"I am captain in the light dragoons," said I, repeating my declaration.

"_Morte de Dios!_" replied he; "it is false; you are a spy!"

The word was repeated from lip to lip by his party, and I saw, in their
lowering looks and darkened features, that the moment was a critical one
for me.

"Down with your arms!" cried he, turning to the Frenchmen. "Surrender
yourselves our prisoners; I'll not bid ye twice!"

The Frenchmen turned upon me an inquiring look, as though to say that upon
me now their hopes entirely reposed.

"Do as he bids you," said I; while at the same moment I sprang to my legs,
and gave a loud, shrill whistle, the last echo of which had not died away
in the distance ere it was replied to.

[Illustration: THE TABLES TURNED.]

"Make no resistance now," said I to the Frenchmen; "our safety depends on
this."

While this was passing two of the Spaniards had dismounted, and detaching a
coil of rope which hung from their saddle-peak, were proceeding to tie the
prisoners wrist to wrist; the others, with their carbines to the shoulder,
covered us man by man, the chief of the party having singled out me as his
peculiar prey.

"The fate of Mascarenhas might have taught you better," said he, "than to
play this game." And then added with a grim smile, "But we'll see if an
Englishman will not make as good a carbonado as a Portuguese!"

This cruel speech made my blood run cold, for I knew well to what he
alluded. I was at Lisbon at the time it happened, but the melancholy fate
of Julian Mascarenhas, the Portuguese spy, had reached me there. He was
burned to death at Torres Vedras!

The Spaniard's triumph over my terror was short-lived, indeed, for scarcely
had the words fallen from his lips, when a party of the Fourteenth,
dashing through the river at a gallop, came riding up. The attitude of the
Guerillas, as they sat with presented arms, was sufficient for my fellows
who needed not the exhortation of him who rode foremost of the party:--

"Ride them down, boys! Tumble them over! Flatten their broad beavers, the
infernal thieves!"

"Whoop!" shouted Mike, as he rode at the chief with the force of a
catapult. Down went the Spaniard, horse and all; and before he could
disentangle himself, Mike was upon him, his knee pressed upon his neck.

"Isn't it enough for ye to pillage the whole country without robbing the
king's throops!" cried he, as he held him fast to the earth with one hand,
while he presented a loaded pistol to his face.

By this time the scene around me was sufficiently ludicrous. Such of the
Guerillas as had not been thrown by force from their saddles, had slid
peaceably down, and depositing their arms upon the ground, dropped upon
their knees in a semicircle around us, and amidst the hoarse laughter of
the troopers, and the irrepressible merriment of the Frenchmen, rose up the
muttered prayers of the miserable Spaniards, who believed that now their
last hour was come.

"_Madre de Dios_, indeed!" cried Mike, imitating the tone of a repentant
old sinner in a patched mantle; "it's much the blessed Virgin thinks of
the like o' ye, thieves and rogues as ye are; it a'most puts me beyond my
senses to see ye there crossing yourselves like _rale_ Christians."

If I could not help indulging myself in this retributive cruelty towards
the chief, and leaving him to the tender mercies of Mike, I ordered the
others to rise and form in line before me. Affecting to occupy myself
entirely with them, I withdrew the attention of all from the French
officers, who remained quiet spectators of the scene around them.

"_Point de facons_, gentlemen," said I, in a whisper. "Get to your horses
and away! Now's your time. Good-by!"

A warm grasp of the hand from each was the only reply, and I turned once
more to my discomforted friends the Guerillas.

"There, Mike, let the poor devil rise. I confess appearances were strong
against me just now."

"Well, Captain, are you convinced by this time that I was not deceiving
you?"

The Guerilla muttered some words of apology between his teeth, and while he
shook the dust from his cloak, and arranged the broken feather of his
hat, cast a look of scowling and indignant meaning upon Mike, whose rough
treatment he had evidently not forgiven.

"Don't be looking at me that way, you black thief! or I'll--"

"Hold there!" said I; "no more of this. Come, gentlemen, we must be
friends. If I mistake not, we've got something like refreshment at our
bivouac. In any case you'll partake of our watch-fire till morning."

They gladly accepted our invitation, and ere half an hour elapsed Mike's
performance in the part of host had completely erased every unpleasant
impression his first appearance gave rise to; and as for myself, when I did
sleep at last, the confused mixture of Spanish and Irish airs which issued
from the thicket beside me, proved that a most intimate alliance had grown
up between the parties.




CHAPTER XXVII.


MIKE'S MISTAKE.

An hour before daybreak the Guerillas were in motion, and having taken a
most ceremonious leave of us, they mounted their horses and set out upon
their journey. I saw their gaunt figures wind down the valley, and watched
them till they disappeared in the distance. "Yes, brigands though they be,"
thought I, "there is something fine, something heroic in the spirit of
their unrelenting vengeance." The sleuth-hound never sought the lair of
his victim with a more ravening appetite for blood than they track the
retreating columns of the enemy. Hovering around the line of march, they
sometimes swoop down in masses, and carry off a part of the baggage, or the
wounded. The wearied soldier, overcome by heat and exhaustion, who drops
behind his ranks, is their certain victim; the sentry on an advanced post
is scarcely less so. Whole pickets are sometimes attacked and carried off
to a man; and when traversing the lonely passes of some mountain gorge, or
defiling through the dense shadows of a wooded glen, the stoutest heart has
felt a fear, lest from behind the rock that frowned above him, or from the
leafy thicket whose branches stirred without a breeze, the sharp ring of a
Guerilla carbine might sound his death-knell.

It was thus in the retreat upon Corunna fell Colonel Lefebvre. Ever
foremost in the attack upon our rear-guard, this gallant youth (he was
scarce six-and-twenty), a colonel of his regiment, and decorated with the
Legion of Honor, he led on every charge of his bold "_sabreurs_," riding
up to the very bayonets of our squares, waving his hat above his head, and
seeming actually to court his death-wound; but so struck were our brave
fellows with his gallant bearing, that they cheered him as he came on.

It was in one of these moments as, rising high in his stirrups, he bore
down upon the unflinching ranks of the British infantry, the shrill whistle
of a ball strewed the leaves upon the roadside, the exulting shout of a
Guerilla followed it, and the same instant Lefebvre fell forward upon his
horse's mane, a deluge of blood bursting from his bosom. A broken cry
escaped his lips,--a last effort to cheer on his men; his noble charger
galloped forward between our squares, bearing to us our prisoner, the
corpse of his rider.

"Captain O'Malley," said a mounted dragoon to the advanced sentry at the
bottom of the little hill upon which I was standing. "Despatches from
headquarters, sir," delivering into my hands a large sealed packet from the
adjutant-general's office. While he proceeded to search for another letter
of which he was the bearer, I broke the seal and read as follows:--

    ADJUTANT-GENERAL'S OFFICE.

    May 15.

    Sir,--On the receipt of this order you are directed, having previously
    resigned your command to the officer next in seniority, to
    repair to headquarters at Fueutes d'Onoro, there to report yourself
    under arrest.

    I have the honor to be your obedient servant,

    GEORGE HOPETON,

    _Military Secretary_.

"What the devil can this mean?" said I to myself, as I read the lines over
again and again. "What have I done lately, or what have I left undone to
involve me in this scrape? Ah!" thought I, "to be sure, it can be nothing
else. Lord Wellington _did_ recognize me that unlucky morning, and has
determined not to let me pass unpunished. How unfortunate. Scarcely
twenty-four hours have elapsed since fortune seemed to smile upon me from
every side, and now the very destiny I most dreaded stares me fully in the
face." A reprimand, or the sentence of a court-martial, I shrank from with
a coward's fear. It mattered comparatively little from what source arising,
the injury to my pride as a man and my spirit as a soldier would be almost
the same.

"This is the letter, sir," said the orderly, presenting me with a packet,
the address of which was in Power's hand-writing. Eagerly tearing it open,
I sought for something which might explain my unhappy position. It bore the
same date as the official letter, and ran thus:--

    My Dear Charley,--I joined yesterday, just in time to enjoy the
    heartiest laugh I have had since our meeting. If notoriety can gratify
    you, by Jove, you have it; for Charles O'Malley and his man Mickey
    Free are bywords in every mess from Villa Formosa to the rear-guard.
    As it's only fair you should participate a little in the fun you've
    originated, let me explain the cause. Your inimitable man Mike, to
    whom it appears you intrusted the report of killed and wounded for
    the adjutant-general, having just at that moment accomplished a
    letter to his friends at home, substituted his correspondence for your
    returns, and doubtless, sent the list of the casualties as very
    interesting information to his sweetheart in Ireland. If such be the
    case, I hope and trust she has taken the blunder in better part than
    old Colbourn, who swears he'll bring you to a court-martial, under
    Heaven knows what charges. In fact, his passion has known no bounds
    since the event; and a fit of jaundice has given his face a kind of
    neutral tint between green and yellow, like nothing I know of except
    the facings of the "dirty half-hundred." [2]

[Footnote 2: For the information of my unmilitary readers, I may
remark that this sobriquet was applied to the 50th Regiment.]

    As Mr. Free's letter may be as great a curiosity to you as it has
    been to us, I enclose you a copy of it, which Hopeton obtained for
    me. It certainly places the estimable Mike in a strong light as a
    despatch-writer. The occasional interruption to the current of the
    letter, you will perceive, arises from Mike having used the pen of a
    comrade, writing being, doubtless, an accomplishment forgotten in
    the haste of preparing Mr. Free for the world; and the amanuensis
    has, in more than one instance, committed to paper more than was
    meant by the author:--


      Mrs. M'Gra,--Tear an' ages, sure I need not be treating he
      way. Now, just say Mrs. Mary--ay, that'll do--Mrs. Mary, it's may be
      surprised you'll be to be reading a letter from your humble servant,
      sitting on the top of the Alps,--arrah, may be it's not the Alps; but
      sure she'll never know,--fornent the whole French army, with Bony
      himself and all his jinnerals--God be between us and harm--ready to
      murther every mother's son of us, av they were able, Molly darlin';
      but, with the blessing of Providence, and Lord Wellington and Mister
      Charles, we'll bate them yet, as we bate them afore.

      My lips is wathering at the thought o' the plunder. I often
      of Tim Riley, that was hanged for sheep-stealing; he'd be worth his
      weight in gold here.

      Mr. Charles is now a captain--devil a less--and myself might be
      somethin' that same, but ye see I was always of a bashful n
      and recommended the master in my place. "He's mighty young, Mister
      Charles is," says my Lord Wellington to me,--"He's mighty young, Mr.
      Free." "He is, my lord," says I; "he's young, as you obsarve, but
      he's as much divilment in him as many that might be his father."
      "That's somethin', Mr. Free," says my lord; "ye say he comes from a
      good stock?" "The _rale_ sort, my lord," says I; "an ould, ancient
      family, that's spent every sixpence they had in treating their
      neighbors. My father lived near him for years,"--you see, Molly, I
      said that to season the discourse. "We'll make him a captain," says
      my lord; "but, Mr. Free, could we do nothing for you?" "Nothing, at
      present, my lord. When my friends comes into power," says I, "they'll
      think of me. There's many a little thing to give away in Ireland, and
      they often find it mighty hard to find a man for lord-lieutenant; and
      if that same, or a tide-waiter's place was vacant--" "Just tell me,"
      says my lord. "It's what I'll do," says I. "And now, wishing you
      happy dreams, I'll take my lave." Just so, Molly, it's hand and glove
      we are. A pleasant face, agreeable manners seasoned with natural
      modesty, and a good pair of legs, them's the gifts to push a man's
      way in the world. And even with the ladies--but sure I am forgetting,
      my master was proposed for, and your humble servant too, by two
      illigant creatures in Lisbon; but it wouldn't do, Molly, it's higher
      nor that we'll be looking,--_rale_ princesses, the devil a less. Tell
      Kitty Hannigan I hope she's well; she was a disarving young
      in her situation in life. Shusey Dogherty, at the cross road--
      I don't forget the name--was a good-looking slip too; give her my
      affectionate salutations, as we say in the Portuguese. I hope I'll be
      able to bear the inclementuous nature of your climate when I go back;
      but I can't expect to stay long--for Lord Wellington can't do without
      me. We play duets on the guitar together every evening. The master is
      shouting for a blanket, so no more at present from,

      Your very affectionate friend,

      MICKEY FREE.

      P. S.--I don't write this myself, for the Spanish tongue p
      out o' the habit of English. Tell Father Rush, if he'd study the
      Portuguese, I'd use my interest for him with the Bishop of Toledo.
      It's a country he'd like--no regular stations, but promiscuous eating
      and drinking, and as pretty girls as ever confessed their sins.


    My poor Charley, I think I am looking at you. I think I can
    see the struggle between indignation, and laughter, which every line
    of this letter inflicts upon you. Get back as quickly as you can, and
    we'll try if Crawfurd won't pull you through the business. In any
    case, expect no sympathy; and if you feel disposed to be angry with
    all who laugh at you, you had better publish a challenge in the next
    general order. George Scott, of, the Greys, bids me say, that if
    you're hard up for cash, he'll give you a couple of hundred for
    Mickey Free. I told him I thought you'd accept it, as your uncle
    has the breed of those fellows upon his estate, and might have no
    objection to weed his stud. Hammersley's gone back with the Dashwoods;
    but I don't think you need fear anything in that quarter.
    At the same time, if you wish for success, make a bold push for the
    peerage and half-a-dozen decorations, for Miss Lucy is most decidedly
    gone wild about military distinction. As for me, my affairs go on
    well: I've had half-a-dozen quarrels with Inez, but we parted good
    friends, and my bad Portuguese has got me out of all difficulties with
    papa, who pressed me tolerably close as to fortune. I shall want
    your assistance in this matter yet. If parchments will satisfy him, I
    think I could get up a qualification; but somehow the matter must
    be done, for I'm resolved to have his daughter.

    The orderly is starting, so no more till we meet.

    Yours ever,            FRED POWER.


"Godwin," said I, as I closed the letter, "I find myself in a scrape at
headquarters; you are to take the command of the detachment, for I must set
out at once."

"Nothing serious, I hope. O'Malley?"

"Oh, no; nothing of consequence. A most absurd blunder of my rascally
servant."

"The Irish fellow yonder?"

"The same."

"He seems to take it easily, however."

"Oh, confound him! he does not know what trouble he has involved me in; not
that he'll care much when he does."

"Why, he does not seem to be of a very desponding temperament. Listen to
the fellow! I'll be hanged, if he's not singing!"

"I'm devilishly disposed to spoil his mirth. They tell me, however, he
always keeps the troop in good humor; and see, the fellows are actually
cleaning his horses for him, while he is sitting on the bank!"

"Faith, O'Malley, that fellow knows the world. Just hear him."

Mr. Free was, as described, most leisurely reposing on a bank, a mug of
something drinkable beside him, and a pipe of that curtailed proportion
which an Irishman loves held daintily between his fingers. He appeared to
be giving his directions to some soldiers of the troop, who were busily
cleaning his horses and accoutrements for him.

[Illustration: MR. FREE PIPES WHILE HIS FRIENDS PIPE-CLAY.]

"That's it, Jim! Rub 'em down along the hocks; he won't kick; it's only
play. Scrub away, honey; that's the devil's own carbine to get clean."

"Well, I say, Mr. Free, are you going to give us that ere song?"

"Yes. I'll be danged if I burnish your sabre, if you don't sing."

"Tear an' ages! ain't I composing it? Av I was Tommy Moore, I couldn't be
quicker."

"Well, come along, my hearty; let's hear it."

"Oh, murther!" said Mike, draining the pot to its last few drops, which he
poured pathetically upon the grass before him; and then having emptied the
ashes from his pipe, he heaved a deep sigh, as though to say life had no
pleasures in store for him. A brief pause followed, after which, to the
evident delight of his expectant audience, he began the following song, to
the popular air of "Paddy O'Carroll":--


    BAD LUCK TO THIS MARCHING.

    Air,--_Paddy O'Carroll_.

    Bad luck to this marching,
    Pipe-claying, and starching,
    How neat one must be to be killed by the French,
    I'm sick of parading,
    Through wet and cowld wading,
    Or standing all night to be shot in a trench.
    To the tune of a fife
    They dispose of your life,
    You surrender your soul to some illigant lilt;
    Now, I like Garryowen,
    When I hear it at home,
    But it's not half so sweet when you're going to be kilt.

    Then, though up late and early,
    Our pay comes so rarely,
    The devil a farthing we've ever to spare;
    They say some disaster
    Befell the paymaster;
    On my conscience, I think that the money's not there.
    And just think what a blunder,
    They won't let us plunder,
    While the convents invite us to rob them, 'tis clear;
    Though there isn't a village,
    But cries, "Come and pillage,"
    Yet we leave all the mutton behind for Mounseer.

    Like a sailor that's nigh land,
    I long for that island
    Where even the kisses we steal if we please;
    Where it is no disgrace
    If you don't wash your face,
    And you've nothing to do but to stand at your ease.
    With no sergeant t'abuse us,
    We fight to amuse us;
    Sure, it's better bate Christians than kick a baboon.
    How I'd dance like a fairy
    To see ould Dunleary,
    And think twice ere I'd leave it to be a dragoon!


"There's a sweet little bit for you," said Mike, as he concluded; "thrown
off as aisy as a game at football."

"I say, Mr. Free, the captain's looking for you; he's just received
despatches from the camp, and wants his horses."

"In that case, gentlemen, I must take my leave of you; with the more
regret, too, that I was thinking of treating you to a supper this evening.
You needn't be laughing; it's in earnest I am. Coming, sir, coming!"
shouted he, in a louder tone, answering some imaginary call, as an excuse
for his exit.

When he appeared before me, an air of most business-like alacrity had
succeeded to his late appearance, and having taken my orders to get the
horses in readiness, he left me at once, and in less than half an hour we
were upon the road.




CHAPTER XXVIII.


MONSOON IN TROUBLE.

As I rode along towards Fuentes d'Onoro, I could not help feeling provoked
at the absurd circumstances in which I was involved. To be made the subject
of laughter for a whole army was by no means a pleasant consideration; but
what I felt far worse was the possibility that the mention of my name in
connection with a reprimand might reach the ears of those who knew nothing
of the cause.

Mr. Free himself seemed little under the influence of similar feelings; for
when, after a silence of a couple of hours, I turned suddenly towards him
with a half-angry look, and remarked, "You see, sir, what your confounded
blundering has done," his cool reply was,--

"Ah, then! won't Mrs. M'Gra be frightened out of her life when she reads
all about the killed and wounded in your honor's report? I wonder if they
ever had the manners to send my own letter afterwards, when they found out
their mistake!"

"_Their_ mistake, do you say? rather _yours!_ You appear to have a happy
knack of shifting blame from your own shoulders. And do you fancy that
they've nothing else to do than to trouble their heads about your absurd
letters?"

"Faith, it's easily seen you never saw my letter, or you wouldn't be saying
that. And sure, it's not much trouble it would give Colonel Fitzroy or any
o' the staff that write a good hand just to put in a line to Mrs. M'Gra, to
prevent her feeling alarmed about that murthering paper. Well, well; it's
God's blessing! I don't think there's anybody of the name of Mickey Free
high up in the army but myself; so that the family won't be going into
mourning for me on a false alarm."

I had not patience to participate in this view of the case; so that I
continued my journey without speaking. We had jogged along for some time
after dark, when the distant twinkle of the-watch-fires announced our
approach to the camp. A detachment of the Fourteenth formed the advanced
post, and from the officer in command I learned that Power was quartered
at a small mill about half a mile distant; thither I accordingly turned my
steps, but finding that the path which led abruptly down to it was broken
and cut up in many places, I sent Mike back with the horses, and continued
my way alone on foot.

The night was deliciously calm; and as I approached the little rustic mill,
I could not help feeling struck with Power's taste in a billet.

A little vine-clad cottage, built close against a rock, nearly concealed
by the dense foliage around it, stood beside a clear rivulet whose eddying
current supplied water to the mill, and rose in a dew-like spray which
sparkled like gems in the pale moonlight. All was still within, but as I
came nearer I thought I could detect the chords of a guitar. "Can it be,"
thought I, "that Master Fred has given himself up to minstrelsy; or is
it some little dress rehearsal for a serenade? But no," thought I, "that
certainly is not Power's voice." I crept stealthily down the little path,
and approached the window; the lattice lay open, and as the curtain waved
to and fro with the night air, I could see plainly all who were in the
room.

Close beside the window sat a large, dark-featured Spaniard, his hands
crossed upon his bosom and his head inclined heavily forward, the attitude
perfectly denoting deep sleep, even had not his cigar, which remained
passively between his lips, ceased to give forth its blue smoke wreath. At
a little distance from him sat a young girl, who, even by the uncertain
light, I could perceive was possessed of all that delicacy of form and
gracefulness of carriage which characterize her nation.

Her pale features--paler still from the contrast with her jet black
hair and dark costume--were lit up with an expression of animation and
enthusiasm as her fingers swept rapidly and boldly across the strings of a
guitar.

"And you're not tired of it yet?" said she, bending her head downwards
towards one whom I now for the first time perceived.

Reclining carelessly at her feet, his arm leaning upon her chair, while his
hand occasionally touched her taper fingers, lay my good friend, Master
Fred Power. An undress jacket, thrown loosely open, and a black neck-cloth,
negligently knotted, bespoke the easy _nonchalance_ with which he
prosecuted his courtship.

"Do sing it again?" said he, pressing her fingers to his lips.

What she replied, I could not catch; but Fred resumed: "No, no; he never
wakes. The infernal clatter of that mill is his lullaby."

"But your friend will be here soon," said she. "Is it not so?"

"Oh, poor Charley! I'd almost forgotten him. By-the-bye, you mustn't fall
in love with him. There now, do not look angry; I only meant that, as I
knew he'd be desperately smitten, you shouldn't let him fancy he got any
encouragement."

"What would you have me do?" said she, artlessly.

"I have been thinking over that, too. In the first place, you'd better
never let him hear you sing; scarcely ever smile; and as far as possible,
keep out of his sight."

"One would think, Senhor, that all these precautions were to be taken more
on my account than on his. Is he so very dangerous, then?"

"Not a bit of it! Good-looking enough he is, but, only a boy; at the same
time, a devilish bold one! And he'd think no more of springing through that
window and throwing his arms round your neck, the very first moment of his
arrival, than I should of whispering how much I love you."

"How very odd he must be! I'm sure I should like him."

"Many thanks to both for your kind hints; and now to take advantage of
them." So saying, I stepped lightly upon the window-sill, cleared the
miller with one spring, and before Power could recover his legs or
Margeritta her astonishment, I clasped her in my arms, and kissed her on
either cheek.

"Charley! Charley! Damn it, man, it won't do!" cried Fred; while the young
lady, evidently more amused at his discomfiture than affronted at the
liberty, threw herself into a seat, and laughed immoderately.

"Ha! Hilloa there! What is't?" shouted the miller, rousing himself from his
nap, and looking eagerly round. "Are they coming? Are the French coming?"

A hearty renewal of his daughter's laughter was the only reply; while Power
relieved his anxiety by saying,--

"No, no, Pedrillo, not the French; a mere marauding party,--nothing more. I
say, Charley," continued he, in a lower tone, "you had better lose no time
in reporting yourself at headquarters. We'll walk up together. Devilish
awkward scrape, yours."

"Never fear, Fred; time enough for all that. For the present, if you permit
me, I'll follow up my acquaintance with our fair friend here."

"Gently, gently!" said he, with a look of most imposing seriousness. "Don't
mistake her; she's not a mere country girl: you understand?--been bred in a
convent here,--rather superior kind of thing."

"Come, come, Fred, I'm not the man to interfere with you for a moment."

"Good-night, Senhor," said the old miller, who had been waiting patiently
all this time to pay his respects before going.

"Yes, that's it!" cried Power, eagerly. "Good-night, Pedrillo."

"_Buonos noches_," lisped out Margeritta, with a slight curtsy.

I sprang forward to acknowledge her salutation, when Power coolly
interposed between us, and closing the door after them, placed his back
against it.

"Master Charley, I must read you a lesson--"

"You inveterate hypocrite, don't attempt this nonsense with _me_. But come,
tell me how long you have been here?"

"Just twenty-four of the shortest hours I ever passed at an outpost. But
listen,--do you know that voice? Isn't it O'Shaughnessy?"

"To be sure it is. Hear the fellow's song."

    "My father cared little for shot or shell,
    He laughed at death and dangers;
    And he'd storm the very gates of hell
    With a company of the 'Rangers.'
    So sing tow, row, row, row, row," etc.


"Ah, then, Mister Power, it's twice I'd think of returning your visit, if I
knew the state of your avenue. If there's a grand jury in Spain, they might
give you a presentment for this bit of road. My knees are as bare as a
commissary's conscience, and I've knocked as much flesh off my shin-bones
as would make a cornet in the hussars!"

A regular roar of laughter from both of us apprized Dennis of our vicinity.

"And it's laughing ye are? Wouldn't it be as polite just to hold a candle
or lantern for me in this confounded watercourse?"

"How goes it, Major?" cried I, extending my hand to him through the window.

"Charley--Charley O'Malley, my son! I'm glad to see you. It's a hearty
laugh you gave us this morning. My friend Mickey's a pleasant fellow for a
secretary-at-war. But it's all settled now; Crawfurd arranged it for you
this afternoon."

"You don't say so! Pray tell me all about it."

"That's just what I won't; for ye see I don't know it; but I believe old
Monsoon's affair has put everything out of their heads."

"Monsoon's affair! What is that? Out with it, Dennis."

"Faith, I'll be just as discreet about that as your own business. All I can
tell you is, that they brought him up to headquarters this evening with
a sergeant's guard, and they say he's to be tried by court-martial; and
Picton is in a blessed humor about it."

"What could it possibly have been? Some plundering affair, depend on it."

"Faith, you may swear it wasn't for his little charities, as Dr. Pangloss
calls them, they've pulled him up," cried Power.

"Maurice is in high feather about it," said Dennis. "There are five of them
up at Fuentes, making a list of the charges to send to Monsoon; for Bob
Mahon, it seems, heard of the old fellow's doings up the mountains."

"What glorious fun!" said Tower. "Let's haste and join them, boys."

"Agreed," said I. "Is it far from this?"

"Another stage. When we've got something to eat," said the major, "if Power
has any intentions that way--"

"Well, I really did begin to fear Fred's memory was lapsing; but somehow,
poor fellow, smiles have been more in his way than sandwiches lately."

An admonishing look from Power was his only reply, as he walked towards the
door. Bent upon teasing him, however, I continued,--

"My only fear is, he may do something silly."

"Who? Monsoon, is it?"

"No, no. Not Monsoon; another friend of ours."

"Faith, I scarcely thought your fears of old Monsoon were called for. He's
a fox--the devil a less."

"No, no, Dennis. I wasn't thinking of him. My anxieties were for a most
soft-hearted young gentleman,--one Fred Power."

"Charley, Charley!" said Fred, from the door, where he had been giving
directions to his servant about supper. "A man can scarce do a more silly
thing than marry in the army; all the disagreeables of married life, with
none of its better features."

"Marry--marry!" shouted O'Shaughnessy, "upon my conscience, it's
incomprehensible to me how a man can be guilty of it. To be sure, I don't
mean to say that there are not circumstances,--such as half-pay, old age,
infirmity, the loss of your limbs, and the like; but that, with good health
and a small balance at your banker's, you should be led into such an
embarrassment--"

"Men will flirt," said I, interrupting; "men will press taper fingers, look
into bright eyes, and feel their witchery; and although the fair owners be
only quizzing them half the time, and amusing themselves the other, and
though they be the veriest hackneyed coquettes--"

"Did you ever meet the Dalrymple girls, Dennis?" said Fred, with a look I
shall never forget.

What the reply was I cannot tell. My shame and confusion were overwhelming,
and Power's victory complete.

"Here comes the prog," cried Dennis, as Power's servant entered with a very
plausible-looking tray, while Fred proceeded to place before us a strong
army of decanters.

Our supper was excellent, and we were enjoying ourselves to the utmost,
when an orderly sergeant suddenly opened the door, and raising his hand to
his cap, asked if Major Power was there.

"A letter for you, sir."

"Monsoon's writing, by Jove! Come, boys, let us see what it means. What a
hand the old fellow writes! The letters look all crazy, and are tumbling
against each other on every side. Did you ever see anything half so tipsy
as the crossing of that _t?_"

"Read it. Read it out, Fred!"


    Tuesday Evening.

    Dear Power,--I'm in such a scrape! Come up and see me at
    once, bring a little sherry with you, and we'll talk over what's to be
    done.

    Yours ever,

    B. MONSOON.

    Quarter-General.


We resolved to finish our evening with the major; so that, each having
armed himself with a bottle or two, and the remnants of our supper, we set
out towards his quarters, under the guidance of the orderly. After a sharp
walk of half an hour, we reached a small hut, where two sentries of the
Eighty-eighth were posted at the door.

O'Shaughnessy procured admittance for us, and in we went. At a small table,
lighted by a thin tallow candle, sat old Monsoon, who, the weather being
hot, had neither coat nor wig on; an old cracked china tea-pot, in which
as we found afterwards he had mixed a little grog, stood before him, and a
large mass of papers lay scattered around on every side,--he himself being
occupied in poring over their contents, and taking occasional draughts from
his uncouth goblet.

As we entered noiselessly, he never perceived us, but continued to mumble
over, in a low tone, from the documents before him:--

"Upon my life, it's like a dream to me! What infernal stuff this brandy
is!"

    CHARGE No. 8.--For conduct highly unbecoming an officer and
    a gentleman, in forcing the cellar of the San Nicholas convent at
    Banos, taking large quantities of wine therefrom, and subsequently
    compelling the prior to dance a bolero, thus creating a riot, and
    tending to destroy the harmony between the British and the Portuguese,
    so strongly inculcated to be preserved by the general orders.

"Destroy the harmony! Bless their hearts! How little they know of it! I've
never passed a jollier night in the Peninsula! The prior's a trump, and
as for the bolero, he _would_ dance it. I hope they say nothing about my
hornpipe."

    CHARGE No. 9.--For a gross violation of his duty as an officer, in
    sending a part of his brigade to attack and pillage the alcalde of
    Banos; thereby endangering the public peace of the town, being a
    flagrant breach of discipline and direct violation of the articles of
    war.

"Well, I'm afraid I was rather sharp on the alcalde, but we did him no harm
except the fright. What sherry the fellow had! 't would have been a sin to
let it fall into the hands of the French."

    CHARGE No. 10.--For threatening, on or about the night of the
    3d, to place the town of Banos under contribution, and subsequently
    forcing the authorities to walk in procession before him, in absurd
    and ridiculous costumes.

"Lord, how good it was! I shall never forget the old alcalde! One of my
fellows fastened a dead lamb round his neck, and told him it was the golden
fleece. The commander-in-chief would have laughed himself if he had been
there. Picton's much too grave,--never likes a joke."

    CHARGE No. 11.--For insubordination and disobedience, in refusing
    to give up his sword, and rendering it necessary for the Portuguese
    guard to take it by force,--thereby placing himself in a
    situation highly degrading to a British officer.

"Didn't I lay about me before they got it! Who's that? Who's laughing
there? Ah, boys, I'm glad to see you! How are you, Fred? Well, Charley,
I've heard of your scrape; very sad thing for so young a fellow as you are.
I don't think you'll be broke; I'll do what I can. I'll see what I can do
with Picton; we are very old friends, were at Eton together."

"Many thanks, Major; but I hear your own affairs are not flourishing.
What's all this court-martial about?"

"A mere trifle; some little insubordination in the legion. Those Portuguese
are sad dogs. How very good of you, Fred, to think of that little supper."

While the major was speaking, his servant, with a dexterity the fruit of
long habit, had garnished the table with the contents of our baskets, and
Monsoon, apologizing for not putting on his wig, sat down among us with a
face as cheerful as though the floor was not covered with the charges of
the court-martial to be held on him.

As we chatted away over the campaign and its chances, Monsoon seemed little
disposed to recur to his own fortunes. In fact, he appeared to suffer much
more from what he termed my unlucky predicament than from his own mishaps.
At the same time, as the evening wore on, and the sherry began to tell upon
him, his heart expanded into its habitual moral tendency, and by an easy
transition, he was led from the religious association of convents to the
pleasures of pillaging them.

"What wine they have in their old cellars! It's such fun drinking it out of
great silver vessels as old as Methuselah. 'There's much treasure in the
house of the righteous,' as David says; and any one who has ever sacked a
nunnery knows that."

"I should like to have seen that prior dancing the bolero," said Power.

"Wasn't it good, though! He grew jealous of me, for I performed a hornpipe.
Very good fellow the prior; not like the alcalde,--there was no fun in him.
Lord bless him! he'll never forget me."

"What did you do with him, Major?"

"Well, I'll tell you; but you mustn't let it be known, for I see they have
not put it in the court-martial. Is there no more sherry there? There, that
will do; I'm always contented. 'Better a dry morsel with quietness,' as
Moses says. Ay, Charley, never forget that 'a merry heart is just like
medicine.' Job found out that, you know."

"Well, but the alcalde, Major."

"Oh! the alcalde, to be sure. These pious meditations make me forget
earthly matters."

"This old alcalde at Banos, I found out, was quite spoiled by Lord
Wellington. He used to read all the general orders, and got an absurd
notion in his head that because we were his allies, we were not allowed to
plunder. Only think, he used to snap his fingers at Beresford, didn't care
twopence about the legion, and laughed outright at Wilson. So, when I was
ordered down there, I took another way with him. I waited till night-fall,
ordered two squadrons to turn their jackets, and sent forward one of my
aides-de-camp, with a few troopers, to the alcalde's house. They galloped
into the courtyard, blowing trumpets and making an infernal hubbub. Down
came the alcalde in a passion. 'Prepare quarters quickly, and rations for
eight hundred men.'

"'Who dares to issue such an order?' said he.

"The aide-de-camp whispered one word in his ear, and the old fellow
grew pale as death. 'Is he here; is he coming,--is he coming?' said he,
trembling from head to foot.

"I rode in myself at this moment looking thus,--

"'_Ou est le malheureux?_' said I, in French,--you know I speak French like
Portuguese."

"Devilish like, I've no doubt," muttered Power.

"'_Pardon, gracias eccellenza!_' said the alcalde, on his knees."

"Who the deuce did he take you for, Major?"

"You shall hear; you'll never guess, though. Lord, I shall never forget it!
He thought I was Marmont; my aide-de-camp told him so."

One loud burst of laughter interrupted the major at this moment, and it was
some considerable time before he could continue his narrative.

"And do you really mean," said I, "that you personated the Duke de Raguse?"

"Did I not, though? If you had only seen me with a pair of great mustaches,
and a drawn sabre in my hand, pacing the room up and down in presence of
the assembled authorities. Napoleon himself might have been deceived. My
first order was to cut off all their heads; but I commuted the sentence
to a heavy fine. Ah, boys, if they only understood at headquarters how to
carry on a war in the Peninsula, they'd never have to grumble in England
about increased taxation! How I'd mulet the nunneries! How I'd grind the
corporate towns! How I'd inundate the country with exchequer bills! I'd
sell the priors at so much a head, and put the nuns up to auction by the
dozen."

"You sacrilegious old villain! But continue the account of your exploits."

"Faith, I remember little more. After dinner I grew somewhat mellow, and
a kind of moral bewilderment, which usually steals over me about eleven
o'clock, induced me to invite the alcalde and all the aldermen to come and
sup. Apparently, we had a merry night of it, and when morning broke,
we were not quite clear in our intellects. Hence came that infernal
procession; for when the alcalde rode round the town with a paper cap, and
all the aldermen after him, the inhabitants felt offended, it seems, and
sent for a large Guerilla force, who captured me and my staff, after a very
vigorous resistance. The alcalde fought like a trump for us, for I promised
to make him Prefect of the Seine; but we were overpowered, disarmed, and
carried off. The remainder you can read in the court-martial, for you may
think that after sacking the town, drinking all night, and fighting in the
morning, my memory was none of the clearest."

"Did you not explain that you were not the marshal-general?"

"No, faith, I know better than that; they'd have murdered me had they known
their mistake. They brought me to headquarters in the hope of a great
reward, and it was only when they reached this that they found out I
was not the Duke de Raguse; so you see, boys, it's a very complicated
business."

"'Gad, and so it is," said Power, "and an awkward one, too."

"He'll be hanged, as sure as my name's Dennis!" vociferated O'Shaughnessy,
with an energy that made the major jump from his chair. "Picton will hang
him!"

"I'm not afraid," said Monsoon; "they know me so well. Lord bless you,
Beresford couldn't get on without me!"

"Well, Major," said I, "in any case, you certainly take no gloomy nor
desponding view of your case."

"Not I, boy. You know what Jeremiah says: 'a merry heart is a continual
feast;' and so it is. I may die of repletion, but they'll never find me
starved with sorrow."

"And, faith, it's a strange thing!" muttered O'Shaughnessy, thinking aloud;
"a most extraordinary thing! An honest fellow would be sure to be hanged;
and there's that old rogue, that's been melting down more saints and
blessed Virgins than the whole army together, he'll escape. Ye'll see he
will!"

"There goes the patrol," said Fred; "we must start."

"Leave the sherry, boys; you'll be back again. I'll have it put up
carefully."

We could scarcely resist a roar of laughter as we said, "Good-night."

"Adieu, Major," said I; "we shall meet soon."

So saying, I followed Power and O'Shaughnessy towards their quarters.

"Maurice has done it beautifully!" said Power. "Pleasant revelations the
old fellow will make on the court-martial, if he only remembers what we've
heard to-night! But here we are, Charley; so good-night, and remember, you
breakfast with me to-morrow."




CHAPTER XXIX.


THE CONFIDENCE.

"I have changed the venue, Charley," said Power, as he came into my room
the following morning,--"I've changed the venue, and come to breakfast with
you."

I could not help smiling as a certain suspicion crossed my mind; perceiving
which, he quickly added,--

"No, no, boy! I guess what you're thinking of. I'm not a bit jealous in
that quarter. The fact is, you know, one cannot be too guarded."

"Nor too suspicious of one's friends, apparently."

"A truce with quizzing. I say, have you reported yourself?"

"Yes; and received this moment a most kind note from the general. But it
appears I'm not destined to have a long sojourn among you, for I'm desired
to hold myself in readiness for a journey this very day."

"Where the deuce are they going to send you now?"

"I'm not certain of my destination. I rather suspect there are despatches
for Badajos. Just tell Mike to get breakfast, and I'll join you
immediately."

When I walked into the little room which served as my _salon_, I found
Power pacing up and down, apparently wrapped in meditation.

"I've been thinking, Charley," said he, after a pause of about ten
minutes,--"I've been thinking over our adventures in Lisbon. Devilish
strange girl that senhora! When you resigned in my favor, I took it for
granted that all difficulty was removed. Confound it! I no sooner began to
profit by your absence, in pressing my suit, than she turned short round,
treated me with marked coldness, exhibited a hundred wilful and capricious
fancies, and concluded one day by quietly confessing to me you were the
only man she cared for."

"You are not serious in all this, Fred?" said I.

"Ain't I though, by Jove! I wish to Heaven I were not! My dear Charley,
the girl is an inveterate flirt,--a decided coquette. Whether she has a
particle of heart or not, I can't say; but certainly her greatest pleasure
is to trifle with that of another. Some absurd suspicion that you were in
love with Lucy Dashwood piqued her vanity, and the anxiety to recover a
lapsing allegiance led her to suppose herself attached to you, and made her
treat all my advances with the most frigid indifference or wayward caprice;
the more provoking," continued he, with a kind of bitterness in his tone,
"as her father was disposed to take the thing favorably; and, if I must say
it, I felt devilish spooney about her myself.

"It was only two days before I left, that in a conversation with Don
Emanuel, he consented to receive my addresses to his daughter on my
becoming lieutenant-colonel. I hastened back with delight to bring her the
intelligence, and found her with a lock of hair on the book before her,
over which she was weeping. Confound me, if it was not yours! I don't
know what I said, nor what she replied; but when we parted, it was with a
perfect understanding we were never to meet again. Strange girl! She came
that evening, put her arm within mine as I was walking alone in the garden,
and half in jest, half in earnest, talked me out of all my suspicions, and
left me fifty times more in love with her than ever. Egad! I thought I used
to know something about women, but here is a chapter I've yet to read.
Come, now, Charley, be frank with me; tell me all you know."

"My poor Fred, if you were not head and ears in love, you would see as
plainly as I do that your affairs prosper. And after all, how invariable
is it that the man who has been the veriest flirt with women,--sighing,
serenading, sonneteering, flinging himself at the feet of every pretty girl
he meets with,--should become the most thorough dupe to his own feelings
when his heart is really touched. Your man of eight-and-thirty is always
the greatest fool about women."

"Confound your impertinence! How the devil can a fellow with a mustache not
stronger that a Circassian's eyebrow read such a lecture to _me?_"

"Just for the very reason you've mentioned. You _glide_ into an attachment
at _my_ time of life; you _fall_ in love at _yours_."

"Yes," said Power, musingly, "there is some truth in that. This flirting is
sad work. It is just like sparring with a friend; you put on the gloves in
perfect good humor, with the most friendly intentions of exchanging a few
amicable blows; you find yourself insensibly warm with the enthusiasm of
the conflict, and some unlucky hard knock decides the matter, and it ends
in a downright fight.

"Few men, believe me, are regular seducers; and among those who behave
'vilely' (as they call it), three-fourths of the number have been more
sinned against than sinning. You adventure upon love as upon a voyage to
India. Leaving the cold northern latitudes of first acquaintance behind
you, you gradually glide into the warmer and more genial climate of
intimacy. Each day you travel southward shortens the miles and the hours of
your existence; so tranquil is the passage, and so easy the transition, you
suffer no shock by the change of temperature about you. Happy were it for
us that in our courtship, as in our voyage, there were some certain Rubicon
to remind us of the miles we have journeyed! Well were it if there were
some meridian in love!"

"I'm not sure, Fred, that there is not that same shaving process they
practise on the line, occasionally performed for us by parents and
guardians at home; and I'm not certain that the iron hoop of old Neptune is
not a pleasanter acquaintance than the hair-trigger of some indignant
and fire-eating brother. But come, Fred, you have not told me the most
important point,--how fare your fortunes now; or in other words, what are
your present prospects as regards the senhora?"

"What a question to ask me! Why not request me to tell you where Soult will
fight us next, and when Marmont will cross the frontier? My dear boy, I
have not seen her for a week, an entire week,--seven full days and nights,
each with their twenty-four hours of change and vacillation."

"Well, then, give me the last bulletin from the seat of war; that at least
you can do. Tell me how you parted."

"Strangely enough. You must know we had a grand dinner at the villa the
day before I left; and when we adjourned for our coffee to the garden, my
spirits were at the top of their bent. Inez never looked so beautiful,
never was one half so gracious; and as she leaned upon my arm, instead
of following the others towards the little summer-house, I turned, as if
inadvertently, into a narrow, dark alley that skirts the lake."

"I know it well; continue."

Power reddened slightly, and went on:--

"'Why are we taking this path?' said Donna Inez; 'this is, surely, not a
short way?'

"'Oh, I wished to make my adieux to my old friends the swans. You know I go
to-morrow.'

"'Ah, that's true,' added she. 'I'd quite forgotten it.'

"This speech was not very encouraging; but as I felt myself in for the
battle, I was not going to retreat at the skirmish. 'Now or never,' thought
I. I'll not tell you what I said. I couldn't, if I would. It is only with
a pretty woman upon one's arm; it is only when stealing a glance at her
bright eyes, as you bend beyond the border of her bonnet,--that you know
what it is to be eloquent. Watching the changeful color of her cheek with
a more anxious heart than ever did mariner gaze upon the fitful sky above
him, you pour out your whole soul in love; you leave no time for doubt, you
leave no space for reply. The difficulties that shoot across her mind you
reply to ere she is well conscious of them; and when you feel her hand
tremble, or see her eyelids fall, like the leader of a storming party when
the guns slacken in their fire, you spring boldly forward in the breach,
and blind to every danger around you, rush madly on, and plant your
standard upon the walls."

"I hope you allow the vanquished the honors of war," said I, interrupting.

Without noticing my observation, he continued:--

"I was on my knee before her, her hand passively resting in mine, her eyes
bent _upon_ me softly and tearfully--"

"The game was your own, in fact."

"You shall hear.

"'Have we stood long enough thus, Senhor?' said she, bursting into a fit of
laughter.

"I sprang to my legs in anger and indignation.

"'There, don't be passionate; it is so tiresome. What do you call that tree
there?'

"'It is a tulip-tree,' said I, coldly.

"'Then, to put your gallantry to the test, do climb up there and pluck me
that flower. No, the far one. If you fall into the lake and are drowned,
why it would put an end to this foolish interview.'

"'And if not?' said I.

"'Oh, then I shall take twelve hours to consider of it; and if my decision
be in your favor, I'll give you the flower ere you leave to-morrow.'

"It's somewhat about thirty years since I went bird-nesting, and hang me,
if a tight jacket and spurs are the best equipment for climbing a tree; but
up I went, and, amidst a running fire of laughter and quizzing, reached the
branch and brought it down safely.

"Inez took especial care to avoid me the rest of the evening. We did not
meet until breakfast the following morning. I perceived then that she wore
the flower in her belt; but, alas! I knew her too well to augur favorably
from that; besides that, instead of any trace of sorrow or depression at my
approaching departure, she was in high spirits, and the life of the party.
'How can I manage to speak with her?' said I to myself. 'But one word,--I
already anticipate what it must be; but let the blow fall--anything is
better than this uncertainty.'

"'The general and the staff have passed the gate, sir,' said my servant at
this moment.

"'Are my horses ready?'

"'At the door, sir; and the baggage gone forward.'

"I gave Inez one look--

"'Did you say more coffee?' said she, smiling.

"I bowed coldly, and rose from the table. They all assembled upon the
terrace to see me ride away.

"'You'll let us hear from you,' said Don Emanuel.

"'And pray don't forget the letter to my brother,' cried old Madame Forjas.

"Twenty similar injunctions burst from the party, but not a word said Inez.

"'Adieu, then!' said I. 'Farewell.'

"'Adios! Go with God!' chorused the party.

"'Good-by, Senhora,' said I. 'Have _you_ nothing to tell me ere we part?'

"'Not that I remember,' said she, carelessly. 'I hope you'll have good
weather.'

"'There is a storm threatening,' said I, gloomily.

"'Well, a soldier cares little for a wet jacket.'

"'Adieu!' said I, sharply, darting at her a look that spoke my meaning.

"'Farewell!' repeated she, curtsying slightly, and giving one of her
sweetest smiles.

"I drove the spurs into my horse's flanks, but holding him firmly on the
curb at the same moment, instead of dashing forward, he bounded madly in
the air.

"'What a pretty creature!' said she, as she turned towards the house; then
stopping carelessly, she looked round,--

"'Should you like this bouquet?'

"Before I could reply, she disengaged it from her belt, and threw it
towards me. The door closed behind her as she spoke. I galloped on to
overtake the staff, _et voila tout_. Now, Charley, read my fate for me, and
tell me what this portends."

"I confess I only see one thing certain in the whole."

"And that is?" said Power.

"That Master Fred Power is more irretrievably in love than any gentleman on
full pay I ever met with."

"By Jove, I half fear as much! Is that orderly waiting for you, Charley?
Who do you want my man?"

"Captain O'Malley, sir. General Crawfurd desires to see you at headquarters
immediately."

"Come, Charley, I'm going towards Fuentes. Take your cap; we'll walk down
together."

So saying, we cantered towards the village, where we separated,--Power to
join some Fourteenth men stationed there on duty, and I to the general's
quarters to receive my orders.




CHAPTER XXX.


THE CANTONMENT.

Soon after this the army broke up from Caja, and went into cantonments
along the Tagus, the headquarters being at Portalegre. We were here joined
by four regiments of infantry lately arrived from England, and the 12th
Light Dragoons. I shall not readily forget the first impression created
among our reinforcements by the habits of our life at this period.

[Illustration: A HUNTING TURN-OUT IN THE PENINSULA.]

Brimful of expectation, they had landed at Lisbon, their minds filled with
all the glorious expectancy of a brilliant campaign; sieges, storming, and
battle-fields floated before their excited imagination. Scarcely,
however, had they reached the camp, when these illusions were dissipated.
Breakfasts, dinners, private theatricals, pigeon matches, formed our daily
occupation. Lord Wellington's hounds threw off regularly twice a week;
and here might be seen every imaginable species of equipment, from the
artillery officer mounted on his heavy troop horse, to the infantry
subaltern on a Spanish jennet. Never was anything more ludicrous than our
turn-out. Every quadruped in the army was put into requisition. And even
those who rolled not from their saddles from sheer necessity, were most
likely to do so from laughing at their neighbors. The pace may not have
equalled Melton, nor the fences have been as stubborn as in Leicestershire,
but I'll be sworn there was more laughter, more fun, and more merriment,
in one day with us, than in a whole season with the best organized pack in
England. With a lively trust that the country was open and the leaps easy,
every man took the field. Indeed, the only anxiety evinced at all, was to
appear at the meet in something like jockey fashion, and I must confess
that this feeling was particularly conspicuous among the infantry. Happy
the man whose kit boasted a pair of cords or buck skins; thrice happy he
who sported a pair of tops. I myself was in that enviable position, and
well remember with what pride of heart I cantered up to cover in all the
superior _eclat_ of my costume, though, if truth were to be spoken, I doubt
if I should have passed muster among my friends of the "Blazers." A round
cavalry jacket and a foraging cap with a hanging tassel were the strange
accompaniments of my more befitting nether garments. Whatever our costumes,
the scene was a most animated one. Here the shell-jacket of a heavy dragoon
was seen storming the fence of a vineyard; there the dark green of a
rifleman was going the pace over the plain. The unsportsmanlike figure of
a staff officer might be observed emerging from a drain, while some
neck-or-nothing Irishman, with light infantry wings, was flying at every
fence before him, and overturning all in his way. The rules and regulations
of the service prevailed not here; the starred and gartered general, the
plumed and aiguilletted colonel obtained but little deference and less
mercy from his more humble subaltern. In fact, I am half disposed to think
that many an old grudge of rigid discipline or severe duty met with its
retribution here. More than once have I heard the muttered sentences around
me which boded like this,--

"Go the pace, Harry, never flinch it! There's old Colquhoun--take him in
the haunches; roll him over!"

"See here, boys--watch how I'll scatter the staff--Beg your pardon,
General, hope I haven't hurt you. Turn about--fair play--I have taught
_you_ to take up a position now."

I need scarcely say there was one whose person was sacred from all such
attacks. He was well mounted upon a strong, half-breed horse; rode always
foremost, following the hounds with the same steady pertinacity with which
he would have followed the enemy, his compressed lip rarely opening for a
laugh when even the most ludicrous misadventure was enacting before him;
and when by chance he would give way, the short ha! ha! was over in a
moment, and the cold, stern features were as fixed and impassive as before.

All the excitement, all the enthusiasm of a hunting-field, seemed powerless
to turn his mind from the pre-occupation which the mighty interests he
presided over, exacted. I remember once an incident which, however trivial
in itself, is worth recording as illustrative of what I mean. We were going
along at a topping pace, the hounds, a few fields in advance, were hidden
from our view by a small beech copse. The party consisted of not more than
six persons, one of whom was Lord Wellington himself. Our run had been a
splendid one, and as we were pursuing the fox to earth, every man of us
pushed his horse to his full stride in the hot enthusiasm of such a moment.

"This way, my lord, this way," said Colonel Conyers, an old Melton man, who
led the way. "The hounds are in the valley; keep to the left." As no reply
was made, after a few moments' pause Conyers repeated his admonition, "You
are wrong, my lord, the hounds are hunting yonder."

"I know it!" was the brief answer given, with a shortness that almost
savored of asperity; for a second or two not a word was spoken.

"How far is Niza, Gordon?" inquired Lord Wellington.

"About five leagues, my lord," replied the astonished aide-de-camp.

"That's the direction, is it not?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Let's go over and inspect the wounded."

No more was said, and before a second was given for consideration, away
went his lordship, followed by his aide-de-camp, his pace the same
stretching gallop, and apparently feeling as much excitement, as he dashed
onwards towards the hospital, as though following in all the headlong
enthusiasm of a fox chase.

Thus passed our summer; a life of happy ease and recreation succeeding to
the harassing fatigues and severe privations of the preceding campaign.
Such are the lights and shadows of a soldier's life; such the checkered
surface of his fortunes. Constituting, by their very change, that buoyant
temperament, that happy indifference, which enables him to derive its full
enjoyment from each passing incident of his career.

While thus we indulged in all the fascinations of a life of pleasure, the
rigid discipline of the army was never for a moment forgotten. Reviews,
parades, and inspections were of daily occurrence, and even a superficial
observer could not fail to detect that under this apparent devotion to
amusement and enjoyment, our commander-in-chief concealed a deep stroke of
his policy.

The spirits of both men and officers, broken, in spite of their successes,
by the incessant privations they had endured, imperatively demanded this
period of rest and repose. The infantry, many of whom had served in the
ill-fated campaign of Walcharen, wore still suffering from the effects of
the intermittent fever. The cavalry, from deficient forage, severe marches,
and unremitting service, were in great part unfit for duty. To take the
field under circumstances like these was therefore impossible; and with the
double object of restoring their wonted spirit to his troops, and checking
the ravages which sickness and the casualties of war had made within his
ranks, Lord Wellington embraced the opportunity of the enemy's inaction to
take up his present position on the Tagus.

But while we were enjoying all the pleasures of a country life, enhanced
tenfold by daily association with gay and cheerful companions, the
master-mind, whose reach extended from the profoundest calculations of
strategy to minutest details of military organization, was never idle.
Foreseeing that a period of inaction, like the present, must only be like
the solemn calm that preludes the storm, he prepared for the future by
those bold conceptions and unrivalled combinations which were to guide him
through many a field of battle and of danger to end his career of glory in
the liberation of the Peninsula.

The failure of the attack upon Badajos had neither damped his ardor nor
changed his views; and he proceeded to the investment of Ciudad Rodrigo
with the same intense determination of uprooting the French occupation in
Spain by destroying their strongholds and cutting off their resources.
Carrying aggressive war in one hand, he turned the other towards the
maintenance of those defences which, in the event of disaster or defeat,
must prove the refuge of the army.

To the lines of Torres Vedras he once more directed his attention. Engineer
officers were despatched thither; the fortresses were put into repair; the
bridges broken or injured during the French invasion were restored; the
batteries upon the Tagus were rendered more effective, and furnaces for
heating shot were added to them.

The inactivity and apathy of the Portuguese government but ill corresponded
with his unwearied exertions; and despite of continual remonstrances and
unceasing representations, the bridges over the Leira and Alva were left
unrepaired, and the roads leading to them, so broken as to be almost
impassable, might seriously have endangered the retreat of the army, should
such a movement be deemed necessary.

It was in the first week of September. I was sent with despatches for the
engineer officer in command at the lines, and during the fortnight of my
absence, was enabled for the first time to examine those extraordinary
defences which, for the space of thirty miles, extended over a country
undulating in hill and valley, and presenting, by a succession of natural
and artificial resources, the strongest and most impregnable barrier that
has ever been presented against the advance of a conquering army.




CHAPTER XXXI.


MICKEY FREE'S ADVENTURE.

When I returned to the camp, I found the greatest excitement prevailing on
all sides. Each day brought in fresh rumors that Marmont was advancing
in force; that sixty thousand Frenchmen were in full march upon Ciudad
Rodrigo, to raise the blockade, and renew the invasion of Portugal.
Intercepted letters corroborated these reports; and the Guerillas who
joined us spoke of large convoys which they had seen upon the roads from
Salamanca and Tamanes.

Except the light division, which, under the command of Crawfurd, were
posted upon the right of the Aguada, the whole of our army occupied the
country from El Bodon to Gallegos; the Fourth Division being stationed at
Fuente Guenaldo, where some intrenchments had been hastily thrown up.

To this position Lord Wellington resolved upon retreating, as affording
points of greater strength and more capability of defence than the other
line of road, which led by Almeida upon the Coa. Of the enemy's intentions
we were not long to remain in doubt; for on the morning of the 24th, a
strong body were seen descending from the pass above Ciudad Rodrigo, and
cautiously reconnoitring the banks of the Aguada. Far in the distance a
countless train of wagons, bullock-cars, and loaded mules were seen winding
their slow length along, accompanied by several squadrons of dragoons.

Their progress was slow, but as evening fell they entered the gates of
the fortress; and the cheering of the garrison mixing with the strains
of martial music, faint from distance, reached us where we lay upon the
far-off heights of El Bodon. So long as the light lasted, we could perceive
fresh troops arriving; and even when the darkness came on, we could detect
the position of the reinforcing columns by the bright watch-fires which
gleamed along the plain.

By daybreak we were under arms, anxiously watching for the intentions of
our enemy, which soon became no longer dubious. Twenty-five squadrons of
cavalry, supported by a whole division of infantry, were seen to defile
along the great road from Ciudad Rodrigo to Guenaldo. Another column,
equally numerous, marched straight upon Espeja; nothing could be more
beautiful, nothing more martial, than their appearance: emerging from a
close mountain gorge, they wound along the narrow road and appeared upon
the bridge of the Aguada just as the morning sun was bursting forth,
its bright beams tipping the polished cuirassiers and their glittering
equipments, they shone in their panoply like the gay troop of some ancient
tournament. The lancers of Berg, distinguished by their scarlet dolmans
and gorgeous trappings, were followed by the Cuirassiers of the Guard,
who again were succeeded by the _chasseurs a cheval_, their bright steel
helmets and light-blue uniforms, their floating plumes and dappled
chargers, looking the very _beau ideal_ of light horsemen; behind, the dark
masses of the infantry pressed forward and deployed into the plain; while,
bringing up the rear, the rolling din, like distant thunder, announced the
"dread artillery."

On they came, the seemingly interminable line converging on to that one
spot upon whose summit now we assembled a force of scarcely ten thousand
bayonets.

While this brilliant panorama was passing before our eyes, we ourselves
were not idle. Orders had been sent to Picton to come up from the left with
his division. Alten's cavalry and a brigade of artillery were sent to the
front, and every preparation which the nature of the ground admitted was
made to resist the advance of the enemy. While these movements on either
side occupied some hours, the scene was every moment increasing in
interest. The large body of cavalry was now seen forming into columns of
attack. Nine battalions of infantry moved up to their support, and forming
into columns, echelons, and squares, performed before us all the manoeuvres
of a review with the most admirable precision and rapidity; but from these
our attention was soon taken by a brilliant display upon our left. Here,
emerging from the wood which flanked the Aguada, were now to be seen the
gorgeous staff of Marmont himself. Advancing at a walk, they came forward
amidst the _vivas_ of the assembled thousands, burning with ardor and
thirsting for victory. For a moment, as I looked, I could detect the
marshal himself, as, holding his plumed hat above his head, he returned the
salute of a lancer regiment, who proudly waved their banners as he passed;
but, hark, what are those clanging sounds which, rising high above the
rest, seem like the war-cry of a warrior?

"I can't mistake those tones," said a bronzed old veteran beside me; "those
are the brass bands of the Imperial Guard. Can Napoleon be there? See,
there they come!" As he spoke, the head of a column emerged from the wood,
and deploying as they came, poured into the plain. For above an hour that
mighty tide flowed on, and before noon a force of sixty thousand men was
collected in the space beneath us.

I was not long to remain an unoccupied spectator of this brilliant display,
for I soon received orders to move down with my squadron to the support of
the Eleventh Light Dragoons, who were posted at the base of the hill. The
order at the moment was anything but agreeable, for I was mounted upon a
hack pony, on which I had ridden over from Crawfurd's Division early in the
morning, and suspecting that there might be some hot work during the day,
had ordered Mike to follow with my horse. There was no time, however, for
hesitation, and I moved my men down the slope in the direction of the
skirmishers.

The position we occupied was singularly favorable,--our flanks defended on
either side by brushwood, we could only be assailed in front; and here,
notwithstanding our vast inferiority of force, we steadily awaited the
attack. As I rode from out the thick wood, I could not help feeling
surprised at the sounds which greeted me. Instead of the usual low and
murmuring tones, the muttered sentences which precede a cavalry advance,--a
roar of laughter shook the entire division, while exclamations burst from
every side around me: "Look at him now!" "They have him, by heavens, they
have him!" "Well done, well done!" "How the fellow rides!" "He's hit, he's
hit!" "No, no!" "Is he down?" "He's down!"

A loud cheer rent the air at this moment, and I reached the front in time
to learn, the reason of all this excitement. In the wide plain before me a
horseman was seen, having passed the ford of the Aguada, to advance at
the top of his speed towards the British lines. As he came nearer, it was
perceived that he was accompanied by a led horse, and apparently with total
disregard of the presence of an enemy, rode boldly and carelessly forward.
Behind him rode three lancers, their lances couched, their horses at speed;
the pace was tremendous, and the excitement intense: for sometimes, as the
leading horseman of the pursuit neared the fugitive, he would bend suddenly
upon the saddle, and swerving to the right or the left, totally evade him,
while again at others, with a loud cry of bold defiance, rising in his
stirrups, he would press on, and with a shake of his bridle that bespoke
the jockey, almost distance the enemy.

"That must be your fellow, O'Malley; that must be your Irish groom!" cried
a brother officer. There could be no doubt of it. It was Mike himself.

"I'll be hanged, if he's not playing with them!" said Baker. "Look at the
villain! He's holding in; that's more than the Frenchmen are doing. Look!
look at the fellow on the gray horse! He has flung his trumpet to his back,
and drawn his sabre."

A loud cheer burst from the French lines; the trumpeter was gaining at
every stride. Mike had got into deep ground, and the horses would not keep
together. "Let the brown horse go! Let him go, man!" shouted the dragoons,
while I re-echoed the cry with my utmost might. But not so, Mike held
firmly on, and spurring madly, he lifted his horse at each stride, turning
from time to time a glance at his pursuer. A shout of triumph rose from the
French side; tin; trumpeter was beside him; his arm was uplifted; the sabre
above his head. A yell broke from the British, and with difficulty could
the squadron be restrained. For above a minute the horses went side by
side, but the Frenchman delayed his stroke until he could get a little in
the front. My excitement had rendered me speechless; if a word could have
saved my poor fellow, I could not have spoken. A mist seemed to gather
across my eyes, and the whole plain and its peopled thousands danced before
my vision.

"He's down!" "He's down, by heavens!" "No! no, no!" "Look there! Nobly
done!" "Gallant fellow!" "He has him! he has him, by ----!" A cheer that
rent the very air above us broke from the squadrons, and Mike galloped in
among us, holding the Frenchman by the throat with one hand; the bridle of
his horse he firmly grasped with his own in the other.

[Illustration: MIKE CAPTURING THE TRUMPETER.]

"How was it? How did he do it?"

"He broke his sword-arm with a blow, and the Frenchman's sabre fell to the
earth."

"Here he is, Mister Charles; and musha, but it's trouble he gave me to
catch him! And I hope your honor won't be displeased at me losing the brown
horse. I was obliged to let him go when the thief closed on me; but sure,
there he is! May I never, if he's not galloping into the lines by himself!"
As he spoke, my brown charger came cantering up to the squadrons, and took
his place in the line with the rest.

I had scarcely time to mount my horse, amidst a buzz of congratulations,
when our squadron was ordered to the front. Mixed up with detachments from
the Eleventh and Sixteenth, we continued to resist the enemy for about two
hours.

Our charges were quick, sharp, and successive, pouring in our numbers
wherever the enemy appeared for a moment to be broken, and then retreating
under cover of our infantry when the opposing cavalry came down upon us in
overwhelming numbers.

Nothing could be more perfect than the manner in which the different troops
relieved each other during this part of the day. When the French squadrons
advanced, ours met them as boldly. When the ground became no longer
tenable, we broke and fell back, and the bayonets of the infantry arrested
their progress. If the cavalry pressed heavily upon the squares, ours came
up to the relief, and as they were beaten back, the artillery opened upon
them with an avalanche of grape-shot.

I have seen many battles of greater duration and more important in result;
many there have been in which more tactic was displayed, and greater
combinations called forth,--but never did I witness a more desperate
hand-to-hand conflict than on the heights of El Bodon.

Baffled by our resistance, Montbrun advanced with the Cuirassiers of the
Guard. Riding down our advanced squadrons, they poured upon us like some
mighty river, overwhelming all before it, and charged, cheering, up the
heights. Our brave troopers were thrown back upon the artillery, and many
of them cut down beside the guns. The artillerymen and the drivers shared
the same fate, and the cannon were captured. A cheer of exultation burst
from the French, and their _vivas_ rent the air. Their exultation was
short-lived, and that cheer their death-cry; for the Fifth Foot, who had
hitherto lain concealed in the grass, sprang madly to their feet, their
gallant Major Ridge at their head. With a yell of vengeance they rushed
upon the foe; the glistening bayonets glanced amidst the cavalry of the
French; the troops pressed hotly home; and while the cuirassiers were
driven down the hill, the guns were recaptured, limbered up, and brought
away. This brilliant charge was the first recorded instance of cavalry
being assailed by infantry in line.

But the hill could no longer be held; the French were advancing on either
flank; overwhelming numbers pressed upon the front, and retreat was
unavoidable. The cavalry were ordered to the rear, and Picton's Division,
throwing themselves into squares, covered the retreating movement.

The French dragoons bore down upon every face of those devoted battalions;
the shouts of triumph cheered them as the earth trembled beneath their
charge,--but the British infantry, reserving their fire until the sabres
clanked with the bayonet, poured in a shattering volley, and the cry of the
wounded and the groans of the dying rose from the smoke around them.

Again and again the French came on; and the same fate ever awaited then.
The only movement in the British squares was closing up the spaces as their
comrades fell or sank wounded to the earth.

At last reinforcements came up from the left; the whole retreated across
the plain, until as they approached Guenaldo, our cavalry, having
re-formed, came to their aid with one crushing charge, which closed the
day.

That same night Lord Wellington fell back, and concentrating his troops
within a narrow loop of land bounded on either flank by the Coa, awaited
the arrival of the light division, which joined us at three in the morning.

The following day Marmont again made a demonstration of his force, but no
attack followed. The position was too formidable to be easily assailed, and
the experience of the preceding day had taught him that, however inferior
in numbers, the troops he was opposed to were as valiant as they were ably
commanded.

Soon after this, Marmont retired on the valley of the Tagus. Dorsenne also
fell back, and for the present at least, no further effort was made to
prosecute the invasion of Portugal.




CHAPTER XXXII.


THE SAN PETRO.

"Not badly wounded, O'Malley, I hope?" said General Crawfurd, as I waited
upon him soon after the action.

I could not help starting at the question, while he repeated it, pointing
at the same time to my left shoulder, from which a stream of blood was now
flowing down my coat-sleeve.

"I never noticed it, sir, till this moment. It can't be of much
consequence, for I have been on horseback the entire day, and never felt
it."

"Look to it at once, boy; a man wants all his blood for this campaign. Go
to your quarters. I shall not need you for the present; so pray see the
doctor at once."

As I left the general's quarters, I began to feel sensible of pain, and
before a quarter of an hour had elapsed, had quite convinced myself that my
wound was a severe one. The hand and arm were swollen, heavy, and distended
with hemorrhage beneath the skin, my thirst became great, and a cold,
shuddering sensation passed over me from time to time.

I sat down for a moment upon the grass, and was just reflecting within
myself what course I should pursue, when I heard the tramp of feet
approaching. I looked up, and perceived some soldiers in fatigue dresses,
followed by a few others who, from their noiseless gestures and sad
countenances, I guessed were carrying some wounded comrade to the rear.

"Who is it, boys?" cried I.

"It's the major, sir, the Lord be good to him!" said a hardy-looking
Eighty-eighth man, wiping his eye with the cuff of his coat as he spoke.

"Not your major? Not Major O'Shaughnessy?" said I, jumping up and rushing
forward towards the litter. Alas, too true, it was the gallant fellow
himself! There he lay, pale and cold; his bloodless cheek and parted lips
looking like death itself. A thin blue rivulet trickled from his forehead,
but his most serious wound appeared to be in the side; his coat was open,
and showed a mass of congealed and clotted blood, from the midst of which,
with every motion of the way, a fresh stream kept welling upward. Whether
from the shock or my loss of blood or from both together, I know not, but I
sank fainting to the ground.


It would have needed a clearer brain and a cooler judgment than I possessed
to have conjectured where I was, and what had occurred to me, when next
I recovered my senses. Weak, fevered, and with a burning thirst, I lay,
unable to move, and could merely perceive the objects which lay within the
immediate reach of my vision. The place was cold, calm, and still as the
grave. A lamp, which hung high above my head, threw a faint light around,
and showed me, within a niche of the opposite wall, the figure of a
gorgeously dressed female; she appeared to be standing motionless, but as
the pale light flickered upon her features, I thought I could detect the
semblance of a smile. The splendor of her costume and the glittering gems
which shone upon her spotless robe gleamed through the darkness with an
almost supernatural brilliancy, and so beautiful did she look, so calm her
pale features, that as I opened and shut my eyes and rubbed my lids, I
scarcely dared to trust to my erring senses, and believe it could be
real. What could it mean? Whence this silence; this cold sense of awe
and reverence? Was it a dream; was it the fitful vision of a disordered
intellect? Could it be death? My eyes were riveted upon that beautiful
figure. I essayed to speak, but could not; I would have beckoned her
towards me, but my hands refused their office. I felt I know not what charm
she possessed to calm my throbbing brain and burning heart; but as I turned
from the gloom and darkness around to gaze upon her fair brow and unmoved
features, I felt like the prisoner who turns from the cheerless desolation
of his cell, and looks upon the fair world and the smiling valleys lying
sunlit and shadowed before him.

Sleep at length came over me; and when I awoke, the day seemed breaking,
for a faint gray tint stole through a stained-glass window, and fell in
many colored patches upon the pavement. A low muttering sound attracted me;
I listened, it was Mike's voice. With difficulty raising myself upon one
arm, I endeavored to see more around me. Scarcely had I assumed this
position, when my eyes once more fell upon the white-clad figure of the
preceding night. At her feet knelt Mike, his hands clasped, and his head
bowed upon his bosom. Shall I confess my surprise, my disappointment! It
was no other than an image of the blessed Virgin, decked out in all the
gorgeous splendor which Catholic piety bestows upon her saints. The
features, which the imperfect light and my more imperfect faculties had
endowed with an expression of calm, angelic beauty, were, to my waking
senses, but the cold and barren mockery of loveliness; the eyes, which my
excited brain gifted with looks of tenderness and pity, stared with no
speculation in them; yet contrasting my feelings of the night before, full
as they were of, their deceptions, with my now waking thoughts, I longed
once more for that delusion which threw a dreamy pleasure over me, and
subdued the stormy passions of my soul into rest and repose.

"Who knows," thought I, "but he who kneels yonder feels now as I did then?
Who can tell how little the cold, unmeaning reality before him resembles
the spiritualized creation the fervor of his love and the ardor of his
devotion may have placed upon that altar? Who can limit or bound the depth
of that adoration for an object whose attributes appeal not only to every
sentiment of the heart, but also to every sense of the brain? I fancy
that I can picture to myself how these tinselled relics, these tasteless
waxworks, changed by the magic of devotion and of dread, become to the
humble worshipper images of loveliness and beauty. The dim religious light;
the reverberating footsteps echoed along those solemn aisles; the vaulted
arches, into whose misty heights the sacred incense floats upward, while
the deep organ is pealing its notes of praise or prayer,--these are no
slight accessories to all the pomp and grandeur of a church whose forms and
ceremonial, unchanged for ages and hallowed by a thousand associations,
appeal to the mind of the humblest peasant or the proudest noble by all the
weaknesses as by all the more favored features of our nature."

How long I might have continued to meditate in this strain I know not, when
a muttered observation from Mike turned the whole current of my thoughts.
His devotion over, he had seated himself upon the steps of the altar, and
appeared to be resolving some doubts within himself concerning his late
pious duties.

"Masses is dearer here than in Galway. Father Rush would be well pleased
at two-and-sixpence for what I paid three doubloons for, this morning.
And sure it's droll enough. How expensive an amusement it is to kill the
French! Here's half a dollar I gave for the soul of a cuirassier that I
kilt yesterday, and nearly twice as much for an artilleryman I cut down at
the guns; and because the villain swore like a heythen, Father Pedro told
me he'd cost more nor if he died like a decent man."

At these words he turned suddenly round towards the Virgin, and crossing
himself devoutly, added,--

And sure it's yourself knows if it's fair to make me pay for devils that
don't know their duties; and after all, if you don't understand English nor
Irish, I've been wasting my time here this two hours."

"I say, Mike, how's my friend the major! How's Major O'Shaughnessy?"

"Charmingly, sir. It was only loss of blood that ailed him. A thief with
a pike--one of the chaps they call Poles, bekase of the long sticks they
carry with them--stuck the major in the ribs; but Doctor Quill--God reward
him! he's a great doctor and a funny divil too--he cured him in no time."

"And where is he now, Mike?"

"Just convanient, in a small chapel off the sacristy; and throuble enough
we have to keep him quiet. He gave up the _con_fusion of roses, and took
to punch; and faith, it isn't hymns nor paslams [psalms] he's singing all
night. And they had me there, mixing materials and singing songs, till I
heard the bell for matins; and what between the punch and the prayers, I
never closed my eyes."

"What do they call this convent?"

"It is a hard word, I misremember. It's something like saltpetre. But how's
your honor? It's time to ask."

"Much better, Mike, much better. But as I see that either your drink or
your devotion seems to have affected your nerves, you'd better lie down for
an hour or two. I shall not want you."

"That's just what I can't; for you see I'm making a song for this evening.
The Rangers has a little supper, and I'm to be there; and though I've made
one, I'm not sure it'll do. May be your honor would give me your opinion
about it?"

"With all my heart, Mike; let's hear it."

"Arrah, is it here, before the Virgin and the two blessed saints that's
up there in the glass cases? But sure, when they make an hospital of the
place, and after the major's songs last night--"

"Exactly so, Mike; out with it."

"Well, Ma'am," said he, turning towards the Virgin, "as I suspect you don't
know English, may be you'll think it's my offices I'm singing. So, saving
your favor, here it is."

    MR. FREE'S SONG.

    AIR,--"_Arrah, Catty, now can't you be asy?_"

    Oh, what stories I'll tell when my sodgering's o'er,
    And the gallant Fourteenth is disbanded;
    Not a drill nor parade will I hear of no more,
    When safely in Ireland landed.
    With the blood that I spilt, the Frenchmen I kilt,
    I'll drive the young girls half crazy;
    And some cute one will cry, with a wink of her eye,
    "Mister Free, now _why can't you be asy?_"

    I'll tell how we routed the squadrons in fight,
    And destroyed them all at "Talavera,"
    And then I'll just add how we finished the night,
    In learning to dance the "bolera;"
    How by the moonshine we drank raal wine,
    And rose next day fresh as a daisy;
    Then some one will cry, with a look mighty sly,
    "Arrah, Mickey, _now can't you lie asy?_"

    I'll tell how the nights with Sir Arthur we spent,
    Around a big fire in the air too,
    Or may be enjoying ourselves in a tent,
    Exactly like Donnybrook fair too.
    How he'd call out to me: "Pass the wine, Mr. Free,
    For you're a man never is lazy!"
    Then some one will cry, with a wink of her eye,
    "Arrah, Mickey, dear, _can't you be asy?_"

    I'll tell, too, the long years in fighting we passed,
    Till Mounseer asked Bony to lead him;
    And Sir Arthur, grown tired of glory at last,
    Begged of one Mickey Free to succeed him.
    "But, acushla," says I, "the truth is I'm shy!
    There's a lady in Ballymacrazy!
    And I swore on the book--" He gave me a look,
    And cried: "Mickey, _now can't you be asy?_"

"Arrah, Mickey, now can't you be _asy?_" sang out a voice in chorus, and
the next moment Dr. Quill himself made his appearance.

"Well, O'Malley, is it a penitential psalm you're singing, or is my friend
Mike endeavoring to raise your spirits with a Galway sonata?"

"A little bit of his own muse, Doctor, nothing more; but tell me, how goes
it with the major,--is the poor fellow out of danger?"

"Except from the excess of his appetite, I know of no risk he runs. His
servant is making gruel for him all day in a thing like the grog-tub of a
frigate. But you've heard the news,--Sparks has been exchanged. He came
here last night; but the moment he caught sight of me, he took his
departure. Begad, I'm sure he'd rather pass a month in Verdun than a week
in my company!"

"By-the-bye, Doctor, you never told me how this same antipathy of Sparks
for you had its origin."

"Sure I drove him out of the Tenth before he was three weeks with the
regiment."

"Ay, I remember; you began the story for me one night on the retreat from
the Coa, but something broke it off in the middle."

"Just so, I was sent for to the rear to take off some gentleman's legs that
weren't in dancing condition; but as there's no fear of interruption now,
I'll finish the story. But first, let us have a peep at the wounded. What
beautiful anatomists they are in the French artillery! Do you feel the
thing I have now in my forceps? There,--don't jump,--that's a bit of the
brachial nerve most beautifully displayed. Faith, I think I'll give Mike a
demonstration."

"Oh, Mister Quill, dear! Oh, Doctor, darling!"

"Arrah, Mickey, now can't ye be asy?" sang out Maurice, with a perfect
imitation of Mike's voice and manner.

"A little lint here! Bend your arm,--that's it--Don't move your fingers.
Now, Mickey, make me a cup of coffee with a glass of brandy in it. And now,
Charley, for Sparks. I believe I told you what kind of fellows the Tenth
were,--regular out-and-outers. We hadn't three men in the regiment that
were not from the south of Ireland,--the _bocca Corkana_ on their lips, fun
and devilment in their eyes, and more drollery and humbug in their hearts
than in all the messes in the service put together. No man had any chance
among them if he wasn't a real droll one; every man wrote his own songs and
sang them too. It was no small promotion could tempt a fellow to exchange
out of the corps. You may think, then, what a prize your friend Sparks
proved to us; we held a court-martial upon him the week after he joined. It
was proved in evidence that he had never said a good thing in his life,
and had about as much notion of a joke as a Cherokee has of the Court of
Chancery; and as to singing, Lord bless you, he had a tune with wooden
turns to it,--it was most cruel to hear; and then the look of him, those
eyes, like dropsical oysters, and the hair standing every way, like a field
of insane flax, and the mouth with a curl in it like the slit in the side
of a fiddle. A pleasant fellow that for a mess that always boasted the
best-looking chaps in the service.

"'What's to be done with him?' said the major; 'shall we tell him we are
ordered to India, and terrify him about his liver?'

"'Or drill him into a hectic fever?'

"'Or drink him dry?'

"'Or get him into a fight and wing him?'

"'Oh, no,' said I, 'leave him to me; we'll laugh him out of the corps.'

"'Yes, we'll leave him to you, Maurice,' said the rest.

"And that day week you might read in the 'Gazette,' 'Pierce Flynn
O'Haygerty, to be Ensign, 10th Foot, _vice_ Sparks, exchanged.'"

"But how was it done, Maurice; you haven't told me that."

"Nothing easier. I affected great intimacy with Sparks, bemoaned our hard
fate, mutually, in being attached to such a regiment: 'A damnable corps
this,--low, vulgar fellows, practical jokes; not the kind of thing one
expects in the army. But as for me, I've joined it partly from necessity.
You, however, who might be in a crack regiment, I can't conceive your
remaining in it.'

"'But why did you join, Doctor?' said he; 'what necessity could have
induced you?'

"'Ah, my friend,' said I, '_that_ is the secret,--_that_ is the hidden
grief that must lie buried in my own bosom.'

"I saw that his curiosity was excited, and took every means to increase it
farther. At length, as if yielding to a sudden impulse of friendship, and
having sworn him to secrecy, I took him aside, and began thus,--

"'I may trust you, Sparks, I feel I may; and when I tell you that my
honor, my reputation, my whole fortune is at stake, you will judge of the
importance of the trust.'

"The goggle eyes rolled fearfully, and his features exhibited the most
craving anxiety to hear my story.

"'You wish to know why I left the Fifty-sixth. Now I'll tell you; but mind,
you're pledged, you're sworn, never to divulge it.'

"'Honor bright.'

"'There, that's enough; I'm satisfied. It was a slight infraction of the
articles of war; a little breach of the rules and regulations of the
service; a trifling misconception of the mess code,--they caught me one
evening leaving the mess with--What do you think in my pocket? But
you'll never tell! No, no, I know you'll not; eight forks and a
gravy-spoon,--silver forks every one of them. There now,' said I, grasping
his hand, 'you have my secret; my fame and character are in your hands, for
you see they made me quit the regiment,--a man can't stay in a corps where
he is laughed at.'

"Covering my face with my handkerchief, as if to conceal my shame, I turned
away, and left Sparks to his meditations. That same evening we happened to
have some strangers at mess; the bottle was passing freely round, and as
usual the good spirits of the party at the top of their bent, when suddenly
from the lower end of the table, a voice was heard demanding, in tones of
the most pompous importance, permission to address the president upon a
topic where the honor of the whole regiment was concerned.

"'I rise, gentlemen,' said Mr. Sparks, 'with feelings the most painful;
whatever may have been the laxity of habit and freedom of conversation
habitual in this regiment, I never believed that so flagrant an instance as
this morning came to my ears--'

"'Oh, murder!' said I. 'Oh, Sparks, darling, sure you're not going to
tell?'

"'Doctor Quill,' replied he, in an austere tone, 'it is impossible for me
to conceal it.'

"'Oh, Sparks, dear, will you betray me?'

"I gave him here a look of the most imploring entreaty, to which he replied
by one of unflinching sternness.

"'I have made up my mind, sir,' continued he; 'it is possible the officers
of this corps may look more leniently than I do upon this transaction; but
know it they shall.'

"'Out with it, Sparks; tell it by all means!' cried a number of voices; for
it was clear to every one, by this time, that he was involved in a hoax.

"Amidst, therefore, a confused volley of entreaty on one side, and my
reiterated prayers for his silence, on the other, Sparks thus began:--

"'Are you aware, gentlemen, why Dr. Quill left the Fifty-sixth?'

"'No, no, no!' rang from all sides; 'let's have it!'

"'No, sir,' said he, turning towards me, 'concealment is impossible; an
officer detected with the mess-plate in his pocket--'

"They never let him finish, for a roar of laughter shook the table from one
end to the other; while Sparks, horror-struck at the lack of feeling and
propriety that could make men treat such a matter with ridicule, glared
around him on every side.

"'Oh, Maurice, Maurice!' cried the major, wiping his eyes, 'this is too
bad; this is too bad!'

"'Gracious Heaven!' screamed Sparks, 'can you laugh at it?'

"'Laugh at it!' re-echoed the paymaster, 'God grant I only don't burst a
blood-vessel!' And once more the sounds of merriment rang out anew, and
lasted for several minutes.

"'Oh, Maurice Quill,' cried an old captain, 'you've been too heavy on the
lad. Why, Sparks, man, he's been humbugging you.'

"Scarcely were the words spoken when he sprang from the room. The whole
truth flashed at once upon his mind; in an instant he saw that he had
exposed himself to the merciless ridicule of a mess-table and that all
peace for him, in that regiment at least, was over.

"We got a glorious fellow in exchange for him; and Sparks descended into
a cavalry regiment,--I ask your pardon, Charley,--where, as you are well
aware, sharp wit and quick intellect are by no means indispensable. There
now, don't be angry or you'll do yourself harm. So good-by, for an hour or
two."




CHAPTER XXXIII.


THE COUNT'S LETTER.

O'Shaughnessy's wound, like my own, was happily only formidable from the
loss of blood. The sabre or the lance are rarely, indeed, so death-dealing
as the musket or the bayonet; and the murderous fire from a square of
infantry is far more terrific in its consequences than the heaviest charge
of a cavalry column. In a few weeks, therefore, we were once more about and
fit for duty; but for the present the campaign was ended. The rainy season
with its attendant train of sickness and sorrow set in. The troops were
cantoned along the line of the frontier,--the infantry occupying the
villages, and the cavalry being stationed wherever forage could be
obtained.

The Fourteenth were posted at Avintas, but I saw little of them. I was
continually employed upon the staff; and as General Crawfurd's activity
suffered no diminution from the interruption of the campaign, rarely passed
a day without eight or nine hours on horseback.

The preparations for the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo occupied our undivided
attention. To the reduction of this fortress and of Badajos, Lord
Wellington looked as the most important objects, and prosecuted his plans
with unremitting zeal. To my staff appointment I owed the opportunity of
witnessing that stupendous feature of war, a siege; and as many of my
friends formed part of the blockading force, I spent more than one night in
the trenches. Indeed, except for this, the tiresome monotony of life was
most irksome at this period. Day after day the incessant rain poured down.
The supplies were bad, scanty, and irregular; the hospitals crowded with
sick; field-sports impracticable; books there were none; and a dulness and
spiritless depression prevailed on every side. Those who were actively
engaged around Ciudad Rodrigo had, of course, the excitement and interest
which the enterprise involved: but even there the works made slow progress.
The breaching artillery was defective in every way: the rain undermined the
faces of the bastions; the clayey soil sank beneath the weight of the heavy
guns; and the storms of one night frequently destroyed more than a whole
week's labor had effected.

Thus passed the dreary months along; the cheeriest and gayest among us
broken in spirit, and subdued in heart by the tedium of our life. The very
news which reached us partook of the gloomy features of our prospects. We
heard only of strong reinforcements marching to the support of the French
in Estramadura. We were told that the Emperor, whose successes in Germany
enabled him to turn his entire attention to the Spanish campaign, would
himself be present in the coming spring, with overwhelming odds and a firm
determination to drive us from the Peninsula.

In that frame of mind which such gloomy and depressing prospects are well
calculated to suggest, I was returning one night to my quarters at Mucia,
when suddenly I beheld Mike galloping towards me with a large packet in his
hand, which he held aloft to catch my attention. "Letters from England,
sir," said he, "just arrived with the general's despatches." I broke the
envelope at once, which bore the war-office seal, and as I did so, a
perfect avalanche of letters fell at my feet. The first which caught my eye
was an official intimation from the Horse Guards that the Prince Regent had
been graciously pleased to confirm my promotion to the troop, my commission
to bear date from the appointment, etc., etc. I could not help feeling
struck, as my eye ran rapidly across the lines, that although the letter
came from Sir George Dashwood's office, it contained not a word of
congratulation nor remembrance on his part, but was couched in the usual
cold and formal language of an official document. Impatient, however, to
look over my other letters, I thought but little of this; so, throwing them
hurriedly into my sabretasche, I cantered on to my quarters without delay.
Once more alone in silence, I sat down to commune with my far-off friends,
and yet with all my anxiety to hear of home, passed several minutes in
turning over the letters, guessing from whom they might have come, and
picturing to myself their probable contents. "Ah, Frank Webber, I recognize
your slap-dash, bold hand without the aid of the initials in the corner;
and this--what can this be?--this queer, misshapen thing, representing
nothing save the forty-seventh proposition of Euclid, and the address
seemingly put on with a cat's-tail dipped in lampblack? Yes, true enough,
it is from Mister Free himself. And what have we here? This queer, quaint
hand is no new acquaintance; how many a time have I looked upon it as the
_ne plus ultra_ of caligraphy! But here is one I'm not so sure of. Who
could have written this bolt-upright, old-fashioned superscription, not
a letter of which seems on speaking terms with its neighbor? The very O
absolutely turns its back upon the M in O'Malley, and the final Y wags his
tail with a kind of independent shake, as if he did not care a curse for
his predecessors! And the seal, too,--surely I know that griffin's head,
and that stern motto, _Non rogo sed capio_. To be sure, it is Billy
Considine's, the count himself. The very paper, yellow and time-stained,
looks coeval with his youth; and I could even venture to wager that his
sturdy pen was nibbed half a century since. I'll not look farther among
this confused mass of three-cornered billets, and long, treacherous-looking
epistles, the very folding of which denote the dun. Here goes for the
count!" So saying to myself, I drew closer to the fire, and began the
following epistle:--

    O'MALLEY CASTLE, November 3.

    Dear Charley,--Here we sit in the little parlor with your last
    letter, the "Times," and a big map before us, drinking your health,
    and wishing you a long career of the same glorious success you have
    hitherto enjoyed. Old as I am--eighty-two or eighty-three (I forget
    which) in June--I envy you with all my heart. Luck has stood
    to you, my boy; and if a French sabre or a bayonet finish you now,
    you've at least had a splendid burst of it. I was right in my opinion
    of you, and Godfrey himself owns it now,--a lawyer, indeed! Bad
    luck to them! we've had enough of lawyers. There's old Hennesy,--honest
    Jack, as they used to call him,--that your uncle trusted
    for the last forty years, has raised eighteen thousand pounds on the
    title-deeds, and gone off to America. The old scoundrel! But it's
    no use talking; the blow is a sore one to Godfrey, and the gout
    more troublesome than ever. Drumgold is making a motion in
    Chancery about it, to break the sale, and the tenants are in open
    rebellion and swear they'll murther a receiver, if one is sent down
    among them. Indeed, they came in such force into Galway during
    the assizes, and did so much mischief, that the cases for trial were
    adjourned, and the judges left with a military escort to protect them.
    This, of course, is gratifying to our feelings; for, thank Providence,
    there is some good in the world yet. Kilmurry was sold last week
    for twelve thousand. Andy Blake would foreclose the mortgage,
    although we offered him every kind of satisfaction. This has done
    Godfrey a deal of harm; and some pitiful economy--taking only
    two bottles of claret after his dinner--has driven the gout to his
    head. They've been telling him he'd lengthen his days by this, and
    I tried it myself, and, faith, it was the longest day I ever spent in
    my life. I hope and trust you take your liquor like a gentleman and
    an Irish gentleman.

    Kinshela, we hear, has issued an execution against the house and
    furniture; but the attempt to sell the demesne nearly killed your
    uncle. It was advertised in a London paper, and an offer made for it
    by an old general whom you may remember when down here. Indeed,
    if I mistake not, he was rather kind to you in the beginning. It
    would appear he did not wish to have his name known, but we found
    him out, and such a letter as we sent him! It's little liking he'll
    have to buy a Galway gentleman's estate over his head, that same Sir
    George Dashwood! Godfrey offered to meet him anywhere he
    pleased, and if the doctor thought he could bear the sea voyage,
    he'd even go over to Holyhead; but the sneaking fellow sent an
    apologetic kind of a letter, with some humbug excuse about very
    different motives, etc. But we've done with him, and I think he
    with us.

When I had read thus far, I laid down the letter, unable to go on; the
accumulated misfortunes of one I loved best in the world, following so fast
one upon another, the insult--unprovoked, gratuitous insult--to him upon
whom my hopes of future happiness so much depended, completely overwhelmed
me. I tried to continue. Alas, the catalogue of evils went on; each line
bore testimony to some farther wreck of fortune, some clearer evidence of a
ruined house.

All that my gloomiest and darkest forebodings had pictured was come to
pass; sickness, poverty, harassing unfeeling creditors, treachery, and
ingratitude were goading to madness and despair a spirit whose kindliness
of nature was unequalled. The shock of blasted fortunes was falling upon
the dying heart; the convictions which a long life had never brought
home--that men were false and their words a lie--were stealing over the
man upon the brink of the grave; and he who had loved his neighbor like a
brother was to be taught, at the eleventh hour, that the beings he trusted
were perjured and forsworn.

A more unsuitable adviser than Considine, in difficulties like these, there
could not be; his very contempt for all the forms of law and justice was
sufficient to embroil my poor uncle still farther; so that I resolved at
once to apply for leave, and if refused, and no other alternative offered,
to leave the service. It was not without a sense of sorrow bordering on
despair, that I came to this determination. My soldier's life had become
a passion with me. I loved it for its bold and chivalrous enthusiasm, its
hour of battle and strife, its days of endurance and hardship, its trials,
its triumphs; its very reverses were endeared by those they were shared
with; and the spirit of adventure and the love of danger--that most
exciting of all gambling--had now entwined themselves in my very nature. To
surrender all these at once, and to exchange the daily, hourly enthusiasm
of a campaign for the prospects now before me, was almost maddening. But
still a sustaining sense of duty of what I owed to him, who, in his love,
had sacrificed all for me, overpowered every other consideration. My mind
was made up.

Father Rush's letter was little more than a recapitulation of the count's.
Debt, distress, sickness, and the heart-burnings of altered fortunes filled
it; and when I closed it, I felt like one over all whose views in life a
dark and ill-omened cloud was closing forever. Webber's I could not read;
the light and cheerful raillery of a friend would have seemed, at such a
time, like the cold, unfeeling sarcasm of an enemy. I sat down at last to
write to the general, enclosing my application for leave, and begging of
him to forward it, with a favorable recommendation, to headquarters.

This done, I lay down upon my bed, and overcome by fatigue and fretting,
fell asleep to dream of my home and those I had left there; which,
strangely too, were presented to my mind with all the happy features that
made them so dear to my infancy.




CHAPTER XXXIV.


THE TRENCHES.

"I have not had time, O'Malley, to think of your application," said
Crawfurd, "nor is it likely I can for a day or two. Read that." So saying,
he pushed towards me a note, written, in pencil, which ran thus:--

    CIUDAD RODRIGO, December 18.

    Dear C.,--Fletcher tells me that the breaches will be practicable
    by to-morrow evening, and I think so myself. Come over, then, at
    once, for we shall not lose any time.

    Yours,           W.

"I have some despatches for your regiment, but if you prefer coming along
with me--"

"My dear General, dare I ask for such a favor?"

"Well, come along; only remember that, although my division will be
engaged, I cannot promise you anything to do. So now, get your horses
ready; let's away."

It was in the afternoon of the following day that we rode into the large
plain before Ciudad Rodrigo, and in which the allied armies were now
assembled to the number of twelve thousand men. The loud booming of
the siege artillery had been heard by me for some hours before; but
notwithstanding this prelude and my own high-wrought expectations, I
was far from anticipating the magnificent spectacle which burst upon my
astonished view. The air was calm and still; a clear, blue, wintry sky
stretched overhead, but below, the dense blue smoke of the deafening guns
rolled in mighty volumes along the earth, and entirely concealed the lower
part of the fortress; above this the tall towers and battlemented parapets
rose into the thin, transparent sky like fairy palaces. A bright flash of
flame would now and then burst forth from the walls, and a clanging crash
of the brass metal be heard; but the unceasing roll of our artillery nearly
drowned all other sounds, save when a loud cheer would burst from the
trenches, while the clattering fall of masonry, and the crumbling stones
as they rolled down, bespoke the reason of the cry. The utmost activity
prevailed on all sides; troops pressed forward to the reliefs in the
parallels; ammunition wagons moved to the front; general and staff officers
rode furiously about the plain; and all betokened that the hour of attack
was no longer far distant.

While all parties were anxiously awaiting the decision of our chief, the
general order was made known, which, after briefly detailing the necessary
arrangements, concluded with the emphatic words, "Ciudad Rodrigo _must_ be
stormed to-night." All speculation as to the troops to be engaged in this
daring enterprise was soon at an end; for with his characteristic sense of
duty, Lord Wellington made no invidious selection, but merely commanded
that the attack should be made by whatever divisions might chance to be
that day in the trenches. Upon the Third and Light Divisions, therefore,
this glorious task devolved. The former was to attack the main breach;
to Crawfurd's Division was assigned the, if possible, more difficult
enterprise of carrying the lesser one; while Pack's Portuguese Brigade were
to menace the convent of La Caridad by a feint attack, to be converted into
a real one, if circumstances should permit.

The decision, however matured and comprehensive in all its details, was
finally adopted so suddenly that every staff officer upon the ground was
actively engaged during the entire evening in conveying the orders to the
different regiments. As the day drew to a close, the cannonade slackened on
either side, a solitary gun would be heard at intervals, and in the calm
stillness around, its booming thunder re-echoed along the valleys of the
Sierra; but as the moon rose and night set in, these were no longer heard,
and a perfect stillness and tranquillity prevailed around. Even in the
trenches, crowded with armed and anxious soldiers, not a whisper was heard;
and amidst that mighty host which filled the plain, the tramp of a patrol
could be distinctly noted, and the hoarse voice of the French sentry upon
the walls, telling that all was well in Ciudad Rodrigo.

The massive fortress, looming larger as its dark shadow stood out from the
sky, was still as the grave; while in the greater breach a faint light was
seen to twinkle for a moment, and then suddenly to disappear, leaving all
gloomy and dark as before.

Having been sent with orders to the Third Division, of which the
Eighty-eighth formed a part, I took the opportunity of finding out
O'Shaughnessy, who was himself to lead an escalade party in M'Kinnon's
Brigade. He sprang towards me as I came forward, and grasping my hand with
a more than usual earnestness, called out, "The very man I wanted! Charley,
my boy, do us a service now!"

Before I could reply, he continued in a lower tone, "A young fellow of
ours, Harry Beauclerc, has been badly wounded in the trenches; but by some
blunder, his injury is reported as a slight one, and although the poor
fellow can scarcely stand, he insists upon going with the stormers."

"Come here, Major, come here!" cried a voice at a little distance.

"Follow me, O'Malley," cried O'Shaughnessy, moving in the direction of the
speaker.

By the light of a lantern we could descry two officers kneeling upon the
ground; between them on the grass lay the figure of a third, upon whose
features, as the pale light fell, the hand of d