able paintings destroyed, the statues thrown down, and mixed with them on the floor, lay the bodies of six or seven murdered Portuguese peasants. It was a cruel and a horrible sight, and yet, in the midst thereof, was I tempted to commit a most sacrilegious act; for round the neck of a prostrate marble female image, I saw a bone necklace of rare and curious workmanship, the only thing that seemed to have been saved from the general wreck, which I very coolly transferred to my pocket and in due time to my portmanteau. But a day of retribution was at hand, for both the portmanteau and the necklace went from me like a tale that is told, and I saw them

no more.

It was the 28th before we again came in contact with the enemy at the village of Frexadas. Two companies of ours and some dragoons were detached to dislodge them, which they effected in gallant style, sending them off in confusion and taking a number of prisoners; but the advantage was dearly purchased by the death of our adjutant, Lieutenant Stewart. He imprudently rode into the main street of the village, followed by a few riflemen, before the French had had time to withdraw from it, and was shot from a window.

One would imagine that there is not much sense wrapped up in an ounce of lead, and yet it invariably selects our best and our bravest, (no great compliment to myself by the way, considering the quantity of those particles that must have passed within a yard of my body at different times, leaving all standing. Its present victim was a public loss, for he was a shrewd, active, and intelligent officer; a gallant soldier, and a safe, jovial and honourable companion.

I was not one of the party engaged on that occasion, but with many of my brother officers, watched their proceedings with my spy-glass from the church-yard of Alverca. Our rejoicings on the flight of the enemy were quickly turned into mourning by observing in

the procession of our returning victorious party, the gallant adjutant's well-known bay horse with a dead body laid across the saddle. We at first indulged in the hope that he had given it to the use of some more humble comrade; but long ere they reached the village we became satisfied that the horse was the bearer of the inanimate remains of his unfortunate master, who but an hour before had left us in all the vigour of health, hope, and manhood. At dawn of day on the following morning the officers composing the advanced guard, dragoons, artillery, and riflemen, were seen voluntarily assembled in front of Sir Sidney Beckwith's quarters, and the body, placed in a wooden chest, was brought out and buried there amid the deep but silent grief of the spectators.

Brief, however, is the space which can be allotted to military lamentations in such times, for within a quarter of an hour we were again on the move in battle array, to seek laurels or death in another field.

Our movement that morning was upon Guarda, the highest standing town in Portugal, which is no joke, as they are rather exalted in their architectural notionsparticularly in convent-building-and, were even a thunder-charged cloud imprudent enough to hover for a week within a league of their highest land, I verily believe that it would get so saddled with monks, nuns, and their accompanying iron bars, that it would be ultimately unable to make its escape.

Our movement, as already said, was upon Guarda, and how it happened, Wellington only knows, but even in that wild mountainous region the whole British army arriving from all points of the compass were seen to assemble there at the same instant, and the whole French army were to be seen at the same time in rapid retreat within gun-shot through the valley below us.

There must have been some screws loose among our minor departments, otherwise such a brilliant move

ment on the part of our chief would not have gone for nothing. But notwithstanding that the enemy's masses were struggling through a narrow defile for a considerable time, and our cavalry and horse artillery were launched against them, three hundred prisoners were the sole fruits of the day's work.

CHAPTER VIII.

The persecution of the guardian of two angels. A Caçadore and his mounted followers. A chief of hussars in his trousers. A chief of rifles in his glory, and a sub of ditto with two screws in the neck.

IN one of the first chapters of this book I not only pledged my constancy to my fair readers, but vowed to renew my addresses from time to time as opportunities offered. As my feet, however, have since trodden from one extremity of a kingdom to the other, and many months have, in the mean while, rolled away without giving me an opportunity of redeeming the pledge, I fear that my fidelity might be doubted if I delayed longer in assuring them that the spirit has all along been willing, but the subject fearfully wanting; for wherever I have wandered the angel of death has gone before, and carefully swept from the female countenance all lines of beauty, leaving nothing for the eye to dwell on but the hideous ruins of distress.

The only exceptions were our fellow travellers, for the country on our line of march, as already said, was reduced to a desert, and no one remained in it who had either wealth or strength to remove, and our regimental wife had deserted, but our gallant associates, the 43d and 52d regiments, had one each, who had embarked with them, and remained true to the brigade until the end of the war. One of them was

remarkably pretty, and it did one's heart good to see the everlasting sweets that hung upon her lovely countenance, assuring us that our recollections of the past were not ideal, which they would otherwise have been apt to revolve themselves into from the utter disappearance of reality for so long a period.

The only addition to them which our division could boast, were two smart substantial-looking Portuguese angels, who followed our two Caçadore regiments, and rode on mule-back under the especial protection of their regimental chaplain. These two were a continual source of amusement to us on the march whenever we found ourselves at liberty to indulge in it. The worthy father himself was quite a lady's man, (Portuguese,) he was a short stout old fellow, with a snuff-coloured coat buttoned up to the throat, which was quite unnecessary with him, seeing that he shaved and put on a clean shirt sometimes as often as once a fortnight. The round mealy-faced ball which he wore as a head was surmounted by a tall cocked hat, and when mounted on his bay pony in his Portuguese saddle, which is boarded up like a bucket, (the shape of his seat and thighs,) he was exactly like some of the cuts I have seen of Hudibras starting on his erratic expedition.

It was our daily amusement, whenever we could steal away from our regiment a short time, for two or three of us to start with some design against the Padre and his dark-eyed wards. One of us would ride quietly up alongside of him and another on that of the ladies as if we wished to pass, but in wishing them the compliments of the season we of course contrived to get ourselves entangled in conversation, while a third officer of our party rode some distance in the rear in readiness to take advantage of circumstances. The Padre was a good-natured old fellow, fond of spinning a yarn, and as soon as one of us had got him fairly embarked in his story, the other began gradually to detach one or both of the damsels from his side, according as the inequalities of the road favoured the