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

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

In the mean time, by the regular course of promotion,

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER V.

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

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

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

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

It was a sort of military academy which is not open

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

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

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

It was in the course of this retreat, as I mentioned in a former work, that I first joined Lord Wellington's army, and I remember being remarkably struck with the order, the confidence, and the daring spirit which

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seemed to animate all ranks of those among whom it was my good fortune to be cast. Their confidence in their illustrious chief was unbounded, and they seemed to feel satisfied that it only rested with him any day to say to his opponent, thus far shalt thou come, but no farther;" and, if a doubt on the subject had rested with any one before, the battle of Busaco removed it, for the Portuguese troops having succeeded in beating their man, it confirmed them in their own good opinion, and gave increased confidence to the whole allied army.

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

On the day of the battle (the 27th) the French General Simon, who led the attack upon our division,