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Phantom Regiment; or, Stories of "Ours"

<h3> CHAPTER XXIV. "ESTELLA." </h3> "I entered the service," quoth the Major, "when the Peninsular War was at its height, and my commission was signed by the first gentleman in Europe, then Prince Regent; truly we had queer ideas of what constituted a gentleman in those days, "'In my hot youth, when George III. was king.' "I joined our first battalion in Spain, and had more than enough of marching, fighting, and starving in the desolate province of Estremadura, where Marshal Macdonald and General Foy never gave us a moment to spare. I was wounded at La Nava, and at the storming of Almarez. When I scrambled over the palisades, with my sword-arm in a sling, I remember a voltigeur officer rushing upon me with his sabre uplifted; but, on perceiving my wound, he lowered his weapon gracefully in salute, and passed on to encounter another. We took the garrison prisoners, blew up the works, and threw the guns into the Tagus. At night, when we buried the dead, by flinging them into their own trenches, I was shocked to perceive my generous and gallant voltigeur among them—cold and stiff—slain by a shot in his heart, and with his right hand still grasping the hilt of the same sabre with which he had threatened and so chivalrously spared me. I was at the defence of Alba, and with the covering army at Badajoz, and I fought at Victoria, where our colonel, the gallant Cadogan, was killed, and where we put up a statue to his memory; but so unlike him, that I am sure if the good man ever looks at it out of Heaven, he will never recognise himself. "We had always hard fighting, for I belonged to the light troops; and so far as the head was concerned in those days, I was very well adapted for that branch of the service. "My regiment, the Highland Light Infantry, belonged to the first brigade of the second division of infantry (Sir Rowland Hill's), and at the time when this little narrative opens was quartered at Aranjuez, a small town of Toledo, about twenty miles south of Madrid, on the left bank of the Tagus. Though we had been for some months in quarters of refreshment on the Portuguese frontier, and had there received several supplies of clothing, &c., from Britain, in consequence of the rapid movements of the army, which, by turning the positions on the Ebro and Douro, had driven back the French under Joseph and Jourdan, making them to traverse the whole length of Spain in one short month, and the incessant activity of the light troops, my uniform was reduced to a mere mass of rags. My cap, a kind of Highland bonnet, checquered, but without feathers (like that still retained by the 71st and 74th Regiments), was worn into many holes, and the rain came through upon my head. My epaulettes, or wings, were reduced to black wire; my coatee, turned to purple and black, was, like my Tartan trews, patched with cloth of every hue; my sash had shrunk to a remnant; the pipeclay had long disappeared from my shoulder-belt, and the sheath of my claymore was worn away until six inches of the bare blade stuck through it And such was the general appearance of the officers of our regiment, as, with our canvas haversacks, our blankets and cloaks slung in our sashes, and carrying wooden canteens, similar to those of the privates, we marched into Aranjuez, and defiled, with pipes playing and drums beating, towards the great summer palace of Philip II., which occupies a little island formed by the Tagus and the Xarama, and is surrounded by the most beautiful pleasure-grounds. "In one hand I carried my sword, in the other a ham, which I had picked up when overhauling a French caisson. My lieutenant had a small wine-skin, and my ensign a round loaf under his arm; thus, we, the officers of the 1st company, looked forward, to what we deemed, in those hard times, a sumptuous repast, on halting in the quadrangle of the vast and silent palace, from which Joseph and his court had fled but a few hours before, leaving behind many a sign of their hasty departure. Here lay Turkey carpets half torn up; there, velvet hangings but half torn down; in one room were bales of furniture, ornaments, and plate, packed but abandoned; in another lay the remains of a sumptuous feast, the wine was yet in the half-emptied glass; the fork remained in the breast of the turkey; the ashes of a large fire yet smouldered in the vast kitchen, and in each apartment of these long and magnificent suites, which traverse the whole palace of Philip II., were splendid Parisian clocks, with their gilt pendulums yet wagging under crystal shades, and all remaining in statu quo, just as the French fugitives had left them, on the approach of our advanced guard. "We chose our apartment, seized utensils, and, after a bath in the sandy Xarama to refresh us after our long and dusty march, we sat down to a supper on my ham, the ensign's loaf, and the lieutenant's skin of the country wine. Fresh from the royal gardens we took fruit in abundance; for the season was summer, and the purple grape, the golden apple, and the ruddier orange, with the ripe pomegranate, were all to be had at arm's length from the tall, painted windows. Nor were cigars wanting: for, when investigating the contents of a certain press, I found several boxes, from which we supplied ourselves, and gave the remainder to the men of our company, who were solacing themselves in the adjacent apartments, and lounging on the velvet sofas, down ottomans, and satin fauteuils, on which the fair demoiselles of the usurper's court had sat but the day before. "The quarter-guards were set; the out-pickets had been posted in the direction of the enemy; in the palace court, our ten pipes had sounded for the tatoo, and, wearied to excess, we lay down, some on beds, and some on benches, but many more on the hard floor, where we slept soundly, and heedless of the advancing, the marching, and skirmishing of the morrow; for we light troops had always our full share of the latter. "I was in this luxurious state—for dry quarters, and a sound sleep after a hearty meal, are great luxuries to the campaigner—when I was shaken by the shoulder, and I heard the devilish voice of our sergeant-major saying— "'I beg your pardon, Captain ——; the first officer for duty is required to take convalescents to the rear They march an hour before daylight, and the adjutant sent me to warn you, sir, and say, the piper will blow the rouse in twenty minutes.' "He retired, having delivered his orders; and then, as a pleasant sequel to them, I heard the rain—the heavy rain of Castile, where every drop is the size of a walnut—pattering on the long range of palace windows which faced the east. No man ever left a warm down bed more unwillingly than did I the hard tiled floor of the sala. I rolled up my cloak and blanket, slung them with my haversack and canteen, and then groped about for a small portmanteau which contained all my goods and gear; and, without disturbing my two comrades to bid them 'good-bye'—for, poor fellows! after so long a march as that of yesterday, to have done so would have been positive inhumanity—with half-closed eyes, I hurried along, stumbling over the sleeping soldiers, muskets, knapsacks, and broken furniture with which the vast halls and suites of chambers were encumbered. After losing myself for a time in that famous apartment of mirrors, where Godoy and the Queen were wont to perform fandangos, I reached the bridge of Toledo, as it is named from the road which crosses it; and there I found the convalescents assembling, in the dark of a cold and rainy morning, for daylight was yet an hour distant, and I heard the heavy drops battering the tarred canvas covers of the wretched caissons, wherein the sick and wounded lay. I heard the rain also lashing on the parapets of the bridge, and raising bubbles on the rapid stream which swept below its arches. "There were not less than thirty waggons or bullock-cars filled by officers alone, many of them sick, or suffering from diseases produced by hardship and starvation; others from wounds, and the amputation of legs and arms, by the stupid apothecaries' boys, who composed almost wholly our medical staff in the Peninsula. In rags and misery, almost shirtless and shoeless, they lay closely packed in the caissons among a little straw; and one—the weakest and most reduced—was the famous Irish assistant-surgeon, Maurice Quill, of the 31st Regiment. I had one officer of the 1st Dragoon Guards, who, being mad as a March hare, had an entire waggon to himself, and I heard him bellowing like a wild bull, above the rushing rain and the howling wind as I approached this mournful assemblage on the old bridge of Toledo. "I received the lists and commissariat papers, &c., in the dark, from the brigade-major, who carried a lantern under his cloak, and, in bidding me adieu, bade me beware of Barba Roxa, or Red-bearded Sancho, a thief, whose exploits were then making some noise in Toledo and La Mancha. The few soldiers who accompanied me were also convalescents, on their way home to be discharged, and, consequently, were barely able to carry their arms. I had a French troop horse, captured in the scramble at Arroyo del Molino, and by my side rode the only effective man in the detachment, my orderly dragoon; who, for the good service he rendered me by his inborn bravery and fidelity, I shall ever remember with gratitude, Darby Crogan, a private of the 4th, or Royal Irish Dragoon Guards, and when I say he was every inch a true Irish soldier, further comment is needless. "Though we had enough and to spare of fighting, I own that it was with no ordinary feeling of dissatisfaction I departed on this duty, leaving my comrades to push on towards the south, to fight and win the great battle of Vittoria, and drive the French from Spain; while I had the foreknowledge that there was never an instance known of an officer leaving the army, in charge of convalescents, without being involved in the most serious quarrels with the Spanish authorities, both civil and military. But there was no alternative for me; so, muffling myself in my cloak, after sharing with Darby Crogan a glass of brandy from a certain convenient flask, which hung at my waist-belt, and after a good deal of galloping to and fro, swearing at muleteers and bullock-drivers, the cars were put in motion, and the march began just as the first streak of dawn glimmered dimly above the distant sierras. "A company of Les Chasseurs Brittaniques (who, though French deserters and ragamuffins of every kind, wore the red British uniform), under a Captain H——, marched also for Ciudad Real, and nearly at the same time, but were ordered to pursue a route apart from mine, by Santa Cruz de la Zarza, and down the other side of the mountains, by Corral de Almuguer and Madridejos. "The morning had broken clear and cloudless, when, passing through an open tract of country, we reached Yepes, and the summer sun of Castile came up in all his burning glory. I generally rode about fifty yards in front of my party to avoid the incessant complaints and cries of the sick and wounded, whose ailments or sores were exasperated by the increasing heat and pitiless jolting of the bullock-cars, which had neither springs nor iron axles. The day was cloudless and scorching; the plain hot, dry, and dusty, all vegetation being burned out of it. No breeze came from the distant mountains; but a vast swarm of black flies, which floated like a vapour about us, gave incredible annoyance. "A poor young officer (lieutenant in an English light cavalry regiment) expired under the pain of his mortifying wounds and accumulated sufferings. This event caused a temporary halt. By the side of the mule-track, which crossed that arid plain, we hastily made a little grave, about a foot deep, and laid him down, yet warm, in his uniform, and coffinless. A little of the blood-stained straw from the waggons was spread over his face, and then we covered him up, heaping the dry dusty soil over him by our feet, by the butts of muskets, and blades of bayonets, to keep the wolves from disturbing his rest. Near this lonely grave there flowed a little fountain from a rude stone duct, which had been made in the days of old, 'en tiempo antique,' as a mule-driver told me. In twenty minutes after, we were all again en route, with the mule-bells jangling and the wheels jarring, as if nothing had happened; but his place in the waggon was soon supplied, as every hour some of my convalescent guard became unable to endure the weight of their trappings, and had to be placed among the sick. Thus our progress was so slow that night was closing before we entered La Guardia, a small town, about sixteen miles from Aranjuez. "As we clambered and toiled up the rocky ridge which it crowns, on the right bank of the Cedron, Crogan and I, who rode in front, were surprised to find the little town almost deserted, and that a few of the inhabitants who had lingered until we were close at hand, were retiring from it on the other side, some on foot and others on mules, but all bearing away their goods and chattels, beds and furniture. Entering, we found it empty; and as there were neither alcalde nor alguazils to go through the farce of distributing billets, we quartered ourselves wherever we best could. After conveying all the wounded from the waggons into the great convent (I carried Dr. Quill on my back, for he was weak as a child), there we laid them, in rows, on the tiled floors; and, after filling their canteens with water, left them to warm themselves the best way they could, for we were wearied almost to death by the slow loitering march of the past day, under a scorching Castilian sun. "La Guardia is surrounded by a strong but ruinous fortified wall, which was built in the olden time to defend the district from the incursions of the Moors; and at each end it had a gate, whereon I posted a guard of a corporal and three men; for as the whole country swarmed with thieves and guerilla deserters, I knew not what picaros might be lurking in the old gypsum quarries near the Cedron. "Darby Crogan and I took possession of a deserted house in the main street. He lighted a fire, and being scarce of fuel, made pretty free use of the doors and shutters, chairs and tables; and we broiled on a ramrod, or boiled in a camp-kettle, our poor ration beef, sprinkling it with flour, and eating it without salt, for that was a commodity extremely scarce among us in Spain; hence, the flavour of our commissariat beef, after being carried in a canvas haversack, on a long day's march, under a burning sun, would have driven Soyer or his majesty of Oude into fits. "We had scarcely concluded this miserable meal, which we shared fraternally—for on service, though discipline is never forgotten, the officer and private are more blended together, as real soldierly sentiment replaces empty etiquette—when we were startled by the report of two or three muskets in our immediate vicinity. "'Hollo!' said Crogan, springing to the door of the house, 'the inimy 'ill be on us before we can say peas!' "'Some guerillas, or picaros, or perhaps, Barba Roxa,' said I, setting down my flask of aguardiente, to listen. "'Darby Roxy!—sure it 'ill be pleasant to meet a namesake.' "'Not if he beats up our quarters, when we are in so poor a condition to resist any who might attempt it; and the watches and rings, &c., of so many sick officers are booty enough for a few enterprising Spaniards, who might try to knock the guard on the head. Look to our pistols, Crogan; bring up the horses, and we will ride forth to reconnoitre.' "'Right, yer honour—I'm the man,' replied the active Irishman, as he looked to the priming of our pistols, loaded his carbine, and hurried to the shed close by, where our horses were chewing their rations of chopped straw; he saddled, and brought them to the door; and thus, in three minutes, we were both mounted. Meanwhile, the guards at each gate of the little town had turned out; and, leaving word to get the whole party under arms in the street, accompanied by Crogan, I rode at a rapid trot towards that direction in which the flashes had been seen by our sentinels. "La Guardia lay buried in obscurity; the night was dark, and a thin vapour veiled the stars; but no moon was visible, though at times a red meteor flashed across the sky. As the warm night-wind passed over the vast tracts of waste and untilled land, it was laden with the rich aroma of those innumerable little plants like mignionette, which flourish by the wayside in all the wild parts of Spain. "'Soft ground, sir,' said Crogan, as his horse stumbled among the dry-scorched soil; 'by the holy! this is just like still-hunting, only the bog, bad luck to it! is as dhry as a bone.' "'Hush!' said I, reining in my horse; 'do you not hear something?' "'By my troth I do,'replied Darby; and as he spoke, a musket flashed about a quarter of a mile distant; and then we heard a faint cry, like a woman's. "'There are no French in this neighbourhood,' said I, surprised. "'But plinty of thaves and robbers, sir; and a nice meetin' it 'id be for us.' "'Forward!' said I; 'we must just take them, like our wives, Crogan, for better or worse.' "'And, like the wives, a sorry takin' it may be for some of us,' said Darby, with a reckless laugh, as we rode on in the dark; and reaching the skirt of a cork wood, found a large Spanish coach, drawn by two mules—such a turn-out as one might have met in those days on the prados of Seville or Madrid—being ransacked by five or six ruffians, armed with pistols, knives, and carbines. A man lay dead among the long grass, near the trees; the mules were kicking and plunging in the traces; and while one ruffian dragged out two ladies, the others were cutting open and emptying their portmanteaus. I drew my a word. "'Make your horse rear, sir, the moment we are fired at,' cried Crogan, who was a practised trooper—' 'twas by not doing so that Corporal Lanigan, of ours, got a ball in his chest, at Talavera—his first battle too.' "'Forward!' cried I, 'cut them down!' "'Whoop—hubaboo! this baste ov mine 'ud clear the rock of Cashel at one spring!' exclaimed Crogan, who uttered an Irish yell, as we fell suddenly on the marauders; and though we were but two to six, routed them in a moment. Three shots were fired at us: I cut one fellow across the hand, and severed his fingers, which grasped the barrel of his musket; Darby stretched another among the grass, and, whether scared by his Irish shout, our sudden onset, or the dread that there were more of us, I know not but in a twinkling they had vanished into the wood, and we sprang from our horses to assist the ladies. "'Ay de mi! señor oficial!' cried the younger, grasping me by the left arm; 'a thousand prayers and thanks.' "'Ay! mi señor Caballero, muchias gracias,' added the elder, making a stately, but profound curtsy to Crogan. "'Why, mam, you make a regular Irish dip,' said he, raising his hand to the peak of his helmet 'But, sure you've dhropped something,' he added, picking up a flask. 'Oh, it can't be this, at all—aggadenty, the thafe! Hurroo! it's like raal Cork, but out of a bran-new cask.' "The old lady now turned to me, perceiving that I was the officer, and prayed 'el santo de las santos,' and all the saints in heaven might bless us, for our courageous and timely succour. "'We are on our way to Ciudad Real from Madridejos, and were attacked in the wood. My señor escudero was shot, our outriders fled; and the ladrones would undoubtedly have maltreated me—not that I cared for myself, señor, but my dear little goddaughter—la nina—the child—la nina Estella. It was all for her that I trembled'—and so forth. "By the moon, which glinted for a time through the hazy clouds, I could perceive that the speaker was a middle-aged lady, very dark complexioned; and, though not handsome, possessing a tolerably good, even stately presence; and that her goddaughter, whose features were blanched by terror, had fine dark Spanish eyes, and a graceful figure, though somewhat undersized. "I begged of them to be no longer alarmed. "'Señoras,' said I, 'my detachment is at La Guardia, close at hand; allow me to offer my escort to you, so far as Ciudad Real, for that, also, is my destination.' "'We owe you a thousand thanks, señor oficial,' replied the gentle voice of la nina Estella, who seemed to be somewhere about eighteen. 'Oh, I shall never forget that fellow's red beard! Madre de Dios, what a size and colour it was!' "'O ho! then our friend was Sancho himself.' "'Ah, señor,' said the old lady, 'how happily we will avail ourselves of your kind offer.' "'Good—I shall have pleasant companions for the remainder of this most unpleasant journey,' thought I, beginning to repack the half-rifled mails. "'We are travelling in great haste,' said the señora. 'Is your detachment composed of horse or foot, caballero?' "'It partakes of both, señora; being thirty waggons of sick and wounded.' "'Sick and wounded! O madre de Dios! 'tis quite a travelling hospital; thirty waggons—a lazarretto—and I have lost my priceless relic of St. Margarida the Scot. Oh, señor valaroso, we owe you a million of favours, but will rather proceed alone. And here is this rogue, Pedro, come back with his mule. Ah, false coward, to leave your young mistress in such peril. I will have you well beaten when we reach Ciudad Real; I will, sir. What would have become of us, but for the miraculous arrival of the señor oficial?' "While I assisted the trembling Pedro to restrap the portmanteaus, and put the mules in order, a colloquy was proceeding between Darby Crogan, and the Spaniard whom he had levelled when the fray first began. "'Silence, now,' I heard him say, while striking the butt of his carbine to shake the priming; 'it will soon be all over wid ye; so die aisy—do, and don't be bothering me.' "'Ay, por amor de Dios, Señor Inglese,' implored the Spaniard on his knees. "'Señor Inglese, indeed!' said Darby, testily, as the aquardiente mounted into his brain; 'is it an Englishman you'd call me, you rascally Spaniard, and I, praise God! a dacent Irishman, like my father and mother before me?' "'Ay de mi, Señor Dragone——' "'Dragon, is it, now! I have a name, Mr. Spaniard, as good as your own, for lack of a better, and that is Darby Crogan, ould Widda Crogan's boy, at the four cross roads, near the bog of ——; but what am I prating about? To make a long story short, prepare for your wooden surtoo, and make a clane breast you spalpeen of the earth, you!' "'Come, come, Darby,' said I, 'let him go; he is only a poor rascal of a Murcian.' "'It's only makin' game of him I am, your honour; but sure I am that his being, as you say, a marchent won't make him feel dyin' a bit more,' replied Darby, uncocking his carbine with an air of discontent. 'Richly he desarves to die, for he fired his pistols at me twice; the curse of Cromwell be on him!' "'Away now,' said I, pointing to the wood; 'vayan usted con Dios, or demonic, if it suits you better; and see, villain, that we meet no more!' "With a dark gleam in his eye the disarmed robber slunk away, and I saw that his face, where not streaked with blood from Darby's sword cut, was ghastly pale with hate, fear, and fury. "We placed the ladies in their antique caravan-looking coach; buckled their baggage on the pyramidal top thereof; furnished Pedro and another servant with the arms and ammunition of the two robbers; promised to see the unfortunate escudero interred, a promise which we never performed; and after escorting them some miles beyond the cork wood, bade them adieu, receiving a pressing invitation to visit them at Ciudad Real, 'where every one knew Donna Emerenciana de Alcala-de-los-Gazules,' which name I give myself no small credit for remembering. We then returned to La Guardia, and for a time thought no more of the affair. "I had ordered the drum to be beaten before daylight, but it was not until two hours after it that the whole of the sick and wounded were again stowed into their waggons, and en route; for in the back-garden of the convent we had to bury those whom we found dead. "Then again began that melancholy chorus of groans and cries of pain, mingled with curses in English and Spanish, the cracking of whips, and jingle of bells, as the obstinate mules and lazy bullocks, which drew the rude cars, were urged to motion; and over wretched roads we departed from La Guardia, towards the mountains. "Passing over the ground of the last night's adventure, Crogan picked up something which glittered amongst the grass; it proved to be the portrait of a young lady, in a veil, flowing over a high comb; and in her well-arched eyebrows, fine dark eyes, roguish mouth, and fascinating smile, I recognised Donna Estella. "'Bravo! a delightful souvenir of La Guardia,' said I; and, after admiring it for a time, consigned it to my breast-pocket. 'Darby, I will owe you a dollar for this when I draw on the paymaster.' I gazed at it frequently on the march, and every time I did so ray interest in the original increased (but bah! do not think I was fool enough to fall in love with a mere miniature), and I resolved that if she was to be found in Ciudad Real I would certainly discover and visit her. "Again a black cloud of flies covered the whole of us; several cars broke down; and such was the terrible nature of the road that one fell entirely over a precipice, bullocks, wounded, and all; and then so great was the delay occasioned by the various casualties, that evening came on before we reached Mora, which is only ten miles from La Guardia. So the reader may have some idea of the tedium of our progress. "Mora I found also abandoned by its inhabitants, who fled at our approach, carrying with them all provisions and everything else which could be borne away. Many of the houses appeared to have been recently burned, for flames were yet smouldering in three of them, and in another two men were lying dead; one shot, the other bayoneted. Being certain that there were no French in the neighbourhood, or nearer than Burgos and Navarre, I was at a loss to comprehend the source of this terror and outrage: but, influenced by anxiety to be nearer Ciudad Real, and to have my defenceless detachment disposed of for that night, I pushed on, in hope of reaching a small village, which, as my 'route' indicated, lay about ten miles further off. "Descending from Mora, we traversed a plain which lies between two sierras that terminate at Porzuna, in La Mancha: and if our progress was slow by day, it was slower still by night. The heat was yet excessive; a thick impalpable dust floated about us; the air was close and still; there was not a breath of wind. Our thirst was intense, and a murmur of satisfaction arose from my mournful cavalcade when the blackened sky, and the croaking of the frogs, announced rain; and when it did come, it came in torrents. Then, raising the covers of the waggons, the wretched patients thrust out their pallid faces and trembling hands to catch the heavy drops. The dusty plain soon became transformed into a sea of mud, and the poor convalescent guard sank above their ankles at every step, while, deeper still, the mules went above their fetlocks. "Anxious and impatient, accompanied by my orderly, I rode forward a few miles, but failed to discover the said village; the whole district was desolate, and being without a guide, I feared that we had lost the way. On returning I found matters still worse; for, taking advantage of my absence, the villanous Spaniards, by a preconcerted arrangement, had simultaneously cut the traces of their mules and bullocks, and (though my guard shot a few of them in the attempt) had fled, leaving the sick and wounded to die in the wilderness. "I cannot say whether anger or despair was my prevailing emotion; but to be left thus, with three or four-and-twenty waggons (for their number was now reduced), full of sick and dying men, among the mountains of Toledo, without provisions, and without a medical officer, was not very pleasant. Though the rain was still falling, as it falls only in Spain (like one ceaseless and tremendous shower-bath), Crogan and I departed at a gallop after the runaways, but could only overtake one; and, as he would neither halt nor obey us, we fired at him with our pistols, and, breaking his leg, left him in the same condition he had left so many of our comrades. "Aware that not a moment should be lost in procuring a fresh team, we turned in the direction of Toledo, and ascended the sierra, half blinded by the rain which lashed in our faces, and, by swelling the streams from the hills, was fast making the valley between them a sheet of water "'A fine thing it will be, your honour,' said Crogan—'for I'm just in the mood to be savage—if we fall in with the Rapparees that rummaged over the ould lady, last night, and sacked Mora and La Guardia.' "'Never mind, Darby, my boy, you will die in the bed "of honour" then.' "'Divil a one of me cares—though, by my sowl,' he added, as our horses plashed fetlock-deep in water, 'I would like that same bed of yer honour's to be a dhry one.' "'So would I, Darby, but remember— "'Why should we be melancholy, boys, Whose business 'tis to——die?' "'By the hokey! that ditty sounds very like as if the man that made it, sir, had been up to his neck in a bog at the time. But there are lights!' "'And the rain is abating, too.' "To be brief. After a ten miles' ride, we reached Almonacid de Zorita, a small town of New Castile, where we roused the alcalde from his bed. He summoned his alguazils, and they, after an infinite deal of trouble, collected by impress all the cattle in the place, amounting to about twenty mules, and as many bullocks. The alcalde assisted us with ill-concealed reluctance, and told me that he and the alcalde of Mora had that morning transmitted to the commandant at Ciudad Real an account of certain outrages, and lawless impressment of mules, committed by a British detachment, at Mora and La Guardia.' "'You must mistake, Señor Alcalde,' said I, angrily, for I was drenched to the skin at the time; 'the only plunderers of La Guardia, if I may judge from personal experience, are true Castilians.' "'The Marquis of Santa Cruz shall judge,' said the alcalde, showing us to the door. 'Adieu, señores.' "'Good-bye, old gentleman, and bad manners to you,' said Crogan, as we leaped on our horses, and, recrossing the sierra reached the waggons about daybreak: and though sleepless and exhausted, I was but too happy when the new team was traced to them, and the whole were once more on their way towards La Mancha. "Slowly and wearily we toiled on by the banks of the Algador, and again crossing the mountains, near a lake into which it flows, reached Guadalerza, all but overcome by heat and fatigue. I remember that near the lake (which was literally alive with adders and small snakes) there stood a solitary convent; and as we passed its walls, the fair recluses waved their handkerchiefs from their narrow gratings, with many a cry of 'viva los Inglesos,' so long as we were within hearing. From Guadalerza, fortunately, the inhabitants had not fled, and they answered promptly and readily the piteous cries of our sufferers for water, which was supplied to them in crocks and jars, that were filled and emptied as if to quell a conflagration. "The village of Fuentelfresno, which overlooks those sands from whence the Guadiana is supposed to spring, was our next halting-place, but its miserable and impoverished inhabitants were totally unable to afford us rations of any kind; and there several of the wounded, whose sabre-cuts or gun-shot wounds, by the jolting of the waggons, had broken out afresh, expired. There were two officers and four soldiers, whom we buried in one hole (alas! I cannot call it a grave), under an old orange-tree, near the Jarama. Finding that it was useless to halt in a place where we were in danger of starving, we went further on, and bivouacked nine miles beyond it. near a little runnel of spring water, on a fine green plain. The soundest sleep that ever closed my eyes was enjoyed there, on that soft grassy sward, beside my horse's heels; but I cannot omit to mention the terror by which it was broken. "My charger snorted, reared, and tried madly to break away from the peg to which I had picketted him. "I raised myself on inv elbow, and looked around me. The waggons were all closely drawn up side by side: the escort were sleeping among their piled arms, and, muffled in their great-coats, our four sentinels stood motionless, about three hundred yards distant. The moonlight was clear and beautiful. Suddenly something reared its head close beside me; I shrunk under my blanket, and, lo! a frightful snake, nearly fifteen feet long, passed over the whole bivouac, hissing and gliding; but, fortunately, without biting any one, it disappeared into a little thicket of laurels and underwood which grew near us. "'Och, this Spain!—snakes, too—divil mend it!' I heard Crogan muttering in his sleep; 'more ov it yet! and I have never had a raal good potato down my throat since I came into it.' "Next day, the sun-burnt plains of La Mancha lay before us; but ere the intense heat of noon, we reached Fernancaballero, in the partida of Piedrabueno; and there (so exhausted were my soldiers, and so terrible the complaints of the wounded), though my route permitted me to tarry but one night, I was compelled to halt for two additional days, an indulgence which nearly cost me my life. In the early morning, when visiting the quarters of the sick and wounded, to render them any assistance in my power before marching, I became aware that a person was following me through the dark, muddy, and unpaved streets of the mountain Puebla. "As a soldier, habitually cautious, and, as a campaigner, aware of the Spanish character, I grasped the hilt of my Highland sword, and walked watchfully on. "This man, by whom I had certainly been dogged and followed for some time, was now joined by two others, and the three accompanied my steps, remaining close behind. Crogan was looking after our horses, and I had no other orderly or attendant; but resolving that if their intentions were bad to anticipate them, I halted, and confronting the trio, said, as if without suspicion.— "'Señores, que hora es?' "'Son los quatro, Caballero,' replied one, gaping at me with surprise on being so suddenly accosted; but I saw the ominous gleam of two knives, as they were secretly drawn from the broad worsted sashes of his companions, who skilfully endeavoured to conceal the act. Quick as lightning, drawing a pistol from my belt, I fired a bullet right at the head of one, whose enormous red beard the flash revealed to me. The hall tore open his cheek, and carried away his left ear. His comrade rushed upon me, but I received him by thrusting the muzzle into his mouth, and hurling him furiously back. On this they all took to flight; but not before I perceived that the wounded man had his left hand swathed in a bandage. "'O ho, Señor Sancho, la Barba Roxa!' said I, recognising the robber whom I had maimed at La Guardia; 'I thought your voice was not unfamiliar to me.' "I hurried to the muster-place, in a frame of mind that struggled between wrath at my narrow escape, and triumph at the victory I had won; but, in ten minutes after, the drum beat, and, replacing the sick in the waggons, we moved off. "Our march of fifteen miles from Fernancaballero we got rapidly over; for Crogan and I having found no less than twenty-five mules grazing near the Alzuer, which there flows through a fertile, plain, many of them bridled, as if just abandoned by their riders, we yoked them to the waggons, and entering Ciudad Real, the capital of La Mancha, passed at a rapid pace through its broad, straight, and well-paved streets, to the great Plaza, or principal square. "'The Lord be praised!' thought I, as the train halted, and I gave in my papers to the Spanish town-major, Don José Gonzales y Llano, a field-officer of that regiment of Leon, which fled, en masse, from the field of Vittoria. 'My duty and my troubles are over together.' "But I was grievously mistaken, as I might have augured from the manner of the town-major, who curled his mustaches, and shifted from one foot to the other, like a man who has something unpleasant to say, but dares not. "While the occupants of the waggons were being conveyed to hospital by fatigue-parties of Spanish soldiers, and my guard joined a detachment of convalescents, who, under another officer, were on their march towards the castle of Belem. I soon became aware that I was an object of marked attention to the denizens of Ciudad Real. A vast crowd had gathered in the Plaza, and I saw many men, particularly paisanos, gesticulating violently, and pointing to me, while the muttering gradually rose into shouts of 'Maldetto! mueran los Inglesos! Perro! ladrone! bandido!' "'What the devil is the meaning of all this?' thought I; and indignantly pushed my horse right through them. On this the cries redoubled, and the crowd increased so fast, that I was fain to ride at a trot towards the house of a guantero (a maker of those gloves for which Ciudad Real is famous throughout Spain), on whom I had been billeted. There I found Darby Crogan awaiting me, breathless, exasperated, and carbine in hand, for he, too, had been followed in the same manner by a mob, who shouted, yelled, threw mud, stones, and rotten melons, with every missile which the uncleaned streets so readily afforded. We were perfectly at a loss to comprehend the cause of treatment so unusual and so unmerited. "'El guantero, our patron, is as cross as two sticks, or a bag of ould nails, devil mend him! and unless your honour has a coin about you, it's but a cowld supper we'll have,' said Crogan, as we entered the sala, or principal apartment of the house. "'I have not had a peseta since we left Mora,' said I; 'but here is the patron at supper, on a cold fowl, too! we are just in time.' "'Sure he'll ask us to ate wid him—Och! for the smallest taste in life!' sighed poor Darby, for our food had been principally roasted castanos during the two previous days, so miserably was the Spanish commissariat conducted. The patron was certainly at supper; but, instead of welcoming us to his house as the deliverers of Spain, who had driven the usurper from Torres Vedras to the Douro, from the Douro to the Ebro, and from thence towards the Pyrenees, he barely bestowed a bow upon us, and desired his servant to conduct me to one room and Crogan to another. Amazed at the coldness of this reception within, which corresponded so exactly with the ungenerous treatment of the mob without, a storm of indignation gathered in my heart; but being aware that a strong Spanish garrison occupied the citadel, and that the Dons were lads who did not stand on trifles, I pocketed my wrath and turned away, resolving on the morrow to discover Donna Emerenciana and la nina Estella. "'Blue blazes!' grumbled Darby; 'are we not to have a ration of something to-night? Lord, sir, you don't know how hungry I am, for the two insides o' me are sticking together. I wish we had hould of that darling pullet.' "'So do I, Crogan, and that the old guantero had hold of the horns of the moon.' "'Wid his fingers well greased, the ould thief! Never mind, sir, wait till they're all asleep, and if I lave a place unransacked, I am not the boy of ould Widdy Crogan, at the four cross-roads.' "The sulky looks of the glover were reflected by those of his wife and servant, a buxom Basque woman, who wore her coal-black hair plaited into one long tail, which overhung her thick woollen petticoat of bright yellow. Her stockings were scarlet; and I saw Crogan squinting at her well-turned ankles, cased in their neat leather abarcas, as she tripped before us, up the steep wooden stair that led to my apartment. The brown-cheeked Basque bade us 'good-night,' in bad Spanish, set down the light, and on being told that one room would do for the soldier and myself, withdrew. Crogan placed a few chairs against the door, and near them lay down on the floor, with his carbine loaded and half-cocked. Without undressing, I threw myself on the bed, with my drawn sword beside me, for the uproar still continued in the street; but long before its din had died away, we were both buried in profound sleep—the deep and dreamless slumber of long weariness and toil. "From this happy state I was aroused about midnight by a loud noise. Sword in hand, I sprang up, and Darby's promise to overhaul the patron's pantry flashed upon my mind. But, lo! a lantern glared into my eyes; and I saw the brown uniforms, red facings, silver epaulettes, bronzed features, and enormous mustaches of several Spanish officers, who surrounded me with drawn swords. Among them I recognised Don José Gonzalez y Llano, the town-major, by whose orders I was roughly seized and disarmed. The lantern was held rudely before my face, then to my belt-plate and the buttons of my coat. "'The seventy-first regimento infanteria de Escotos,' said one. "'La division de Don Roland Hill,' said another. "'Señores, what is the meaning of this intrusion, and how dare you lay hands thus upon me?' "'The Marquis of Santa Cruz de la Zarza will tell you that,' said the little major, insolently. "'Then where is the marquis?' asked I, furiously. "'At his palace, where he waits you, and requires your presence,' said a young officer, who wore the cross of St. James and the splendid uniform of an Ayudante de Campo. 'Come with us, señor,' he added, politely. 'I beg to assure you that resistance is worse than useless; so permit me, for the present, to receive your sword.' "I handed the young aide-de-camp my belt and scabbard. "'Gentlemen, I beg you to remember that I am an officer bearing his Britannic Majesty's commission.' And without saying more, I accompanied them from the house of the glover, under escort of four Spanish soldiers, who surrounded me with fixed bayonets. In silence we traversed various streets, which were buried in darkness and obscurity; and I saw nothing of Crogan (for I had been seized while he was on his exploring expedition); yet though anxious and perplexed, I maintained a haughty silence, and disdained to question my conductors. "The bell of the cathedral tolled midnight as we entered the great Plaza, and saw before us the stately palace of the marquis brilliantly illuminated, for he was giving a magnificent fete in honour of his patron saint, whose festival had occurred on the day that had passed. From the lofty latticed windows, four-and-twenty lines of variously-coloured light fell across the great Plaza of the bull-fights, and shed their prismatic hues on its plashing fountains. A flight of marble steps led us to the vestibule, where a Spanish guard of honour was under arms, with fixed bayonets; and, passing between their ranks, we ascended to the grand saloon of the palace. "In that magnificent apartment, decorated in the florid and profusely-gilded style of Charles the Fifth's time, filled with a deluge of light from crystal chandeliers, and over a slippery floor of clear and tesselated marble, I was led by my conductors through the glittering crowd of guests. On every hand I saw the brown uniforms, red facings, and silver epaulettes of the Spanish line, the blue and silver of the Portuguese, the green of the Cazadores, and the black velvet suits of old-fashioned cavaliers, wearing the crosses of St. James and of Calatrava. The ladies wore, almost uniformly, dresses of black or white, but with a profusion of the richest lace. Many of them looked like beautiful black-eyed brides, for their brows were wreathed with flowers, or they had one fresh red rose among their dark glossy hair, placed just beside the comb, from which fell that sweeping veil which like a gauzy mist floated about their superb figures. For years I had not looked on such a scene. "'Madre de Dios! what an officer!' 'O! Santos! that a British officer!' 'Morte de Dios! he a cavalier!' were the exclamations in every varying tone. I was led along the saloon; the music ceased in the gilded gallery; the dancers paused, mingled, and crowded about us; then reflecting that I had come straight from the camp and field, where my comrades were facing danger and death for these same Spaniards, I thought the exhibition made of me by the Major Don José Gonzalez, of the regiment of Leon, alike scurvy and ungrateful. Our division of the army had not received a farthing of pay for six months at that time, and many a brave fellow fell at Vittoria and the Pyrenees without receiving his hard-won arrears, which, more than probably, his relations never obtained either. "I was in the same plight in which I had marched from Aranjuez; my wings worn to black wire; coat purple, and patched with grey and blue at the elbows; my Tartan trews a mass of darns; scabbard, as I have said, six inches too short for the claymore; shoes all gone at the toes; and my last shirt all gone too, save the wrists and collar. But I was weatherbeaten as a smuggler; and I looked more like a soldier than the pomatumed Dons of the Spanish line, or the Cavaliers of Calatrava, who turned up their mustaches and muttered 'basta!' as I passed them, to where the Marquis stood, with a lady leaning on his arm. "Don Christoval, of Santa Cruz, was a tall, gaunt man, with a long Castilian visage, black lack-lustre eyes, and a solemn air of lofty pomposity. His mustaches were curled up to his ears. He had an enormous basket-hilted toledo depending from a sling-belt, and carried his handkerchief stuffed into the hilt thereof. He wore the uniform of a Spanish lieutenant-general, and had various little gold and silver ornaments sparkling on his breast. I was aware that a graceful and bright-eyed young girl, in white lace, with her head wreathed by a superb tiara of brilliants, leaned on his arm; but so solemnly severe was the brow of the Marquis and so brief his greeting, though in the old style of Castilian courtesy, that he riveted my whole attention. Besides, I was not a little indignant at the unceremonious manner in which I had been brought before him, and made a spectacle to his guests. "'Señor Don Christoval,' said I, 'for what am I brought—I may say dragged—hither from my billet, after a tedious march, and after having duly delivered over my detachment, according to my orders from head-quarters?' "'Señor official,' replied the Marquis, with a look of grave severity, 'you are charged with murdering two Spaniards, carrying off twenty mules from La Guardia, and levying other contributions in the partida.' "'Who dare to be my accusers?' I asked, thunder-struck at such a charge. "'The alcalde of La Guardia, whose brother is one of the slain; and Alonzo Perez, a master-muleteer of Fuentelfresno, whose mules you carried off.' "'Marquis, on my honour as a British officer and gentleman, I deny this.' "The Marquis smiled coldly, as he replied,— "'To-morrow we will confront you with the worthy alcalde; and as for the mules, the owner recognised them this morning, drawing your waggons into Ciudad Real. Each animal has a private notch in its ears.' "'Marquis, I beg to assure you——' "'Sir—no more. Here I cannot listen to explanations. I might place a guard over you, but nevertheless consider yourself a prisoner, and believe that any attempt to escape will be deemed but a proof of guilt. Retain your sword—partake of our hospitality; and I hope, señor, that the morrow will find you prepared to refute these dark charges.' "He waved his hand with such an air as a Castilian noble could alone assume, and with a lofty gait strode away: then in his daughter, who swept on by his side, for the first time I recognised the young lady I had rescued at La Guardia, the original of the portrait Darby had found, and which at that moment I had upon my person. "Her large dark eyes dilated with astonishment, and then sparkled with the recognition, which the punctilio of the place or her father's pride and severity, together with my tatterdemalion aspect, prevented her avowing; and thus, though I had saved her life—yea, more than her life—at the risk of my own, this dazzling creature passed away and left me, without a word of thanks or courtesy. "I do not remember that I felt either the alarm, horror, or astonishment that might be supposed consequent to an accusation so startling as murder and marauding. I can only account for this by the deadness of feeling and of all sense of danger which results from actual service and warfare. But there was one emotion which I felt deeply—an angry pride; aware that I was an object of aversion and suspicion to the gay guests of the Marquis, among whom the fat and ferocious little town-major made himself very conspicuous in laying down the Spanish military law on the enormities I had committed. The hidalgos gazed at me indignantly through their eye-glasses; the dark-eyed donnas peeped timidly through the openings of their veils, and 'matador, borrachio, Inglese ladrone,' were the gentlest of the epithets I heard muttered by many a pretty lip. My heart swelled with rage, and instead of joining the dancers, or aiding in the onslaught made upon the viands which covered the long tables of an adjoining saloon, between lofty epergnes and vases of crystal and silver, filled with summer flowers, I stood aloof with folded arms, and felt the smarting of a wound received but a few months before—and that wound was received for Spain, and on Spanish ground! "At a little distance I saw the Donna Estella whispering to her father's aide-de-camp. A minute afterwards he approached me. "'Señor,' said he, 'if you will pardon the advice of a friend, I beseech you to retire to your quarters, for all here view you with hostile eyes; and, as a brave soldier, to whom my little cousin owes (as she has told me) her life, I cannot afford to see you thus misused. To-morrow, I hope, will see these clouds dispelled; meantime, allow me to accompany you. I have here a spare apartment, to which you are welcome.' "All places were alike to me; I accepted his offer with gratitude; and, as we descended to the vestibule, the first person I met was honest Darby Crogan, with his sword under his arm, and his keen grey Irish eyes sparkling with rage; and he pushed the laced lacqueys right and left. "'I have heard it all, sir,' said the brave fellow, who had been anxious about me; 'and mighty hard it will go wid you. It was all the doin' of that capthin of the Chaseers Britaneeks, who came out of his own route into ours, ransacked La Guardia, and carried off the mules (bad cess to them!). They were found with us, and the owner is ready to swear by this and by that, and by everything else, that you are the man, and these are his mules, as he knows by the holes punched in their ears, and to these holes he is as ready to swear as to his own two eyes.' "'True, Darby; but how is all this to be explained to these hostile and obstinate Spaniards?' "'Kape your mind aisy, sir; there are four good hours till daybreak yet, and if I don't astonish them thaving Dons, I am not Darby Crogan of the 4th Dragoon Guards.' "On the terrace of the palace, which had anciently been the head-quarters of that celebrated fraternity, the Santa Hermandad, founded in 1249 for the suppression of robbers, I walked to and fro for half an hour with the aide-de-camp, enjoying a cigar, talking of the war, my own mishap, and longing to ask a few questions about his dark-eyed cousin, with whom her miniature had made me so intimately acquainted. The glorious moon was rolling through an unclouded Spanish sky, pouring a flood of silver light into the Plaza and court of the palace, on the towers of the great church, and the magnificent hospital of Cardinal Lorenzana, the good and wise Archbishop of Toledo. The gardens of the Marquis were all lighted up by the same white radiance; the foliage of the citron trees was edged with silver and laden with perfume; the rose-trees hung their dewy blossoms over the marble fountains, the clear waters of which plashed and sparkled in the moonlight. After a pause, I ventured to ask— "'What is the name of the—the Marquis's daughter?' "'My cousin—la nina—Estella de la Zarza.' "'A pretty one enough; and she is about to change it, I presume?' "'Change it!' reiterated the Ayudante de Campo, who did not perceive that I was fishing for a certain information. 'Oh! I see—marriage. She is about to marry, Corpo de Baccho! yes, but our Spanish ladies do not change their names when they marry.' "'And who is the happy man—yourself, señor?' "'Nay, nay—we Catholics cannot marry our cousins. Next week she is to wed old Don José Gonzalez.' "'What! that old beer-barrel, the town-major?' "'Si, señor,' replied he, twirling his mustaches, with a doubtful look: while I felt that I was beginning to abhor that town-major immeasurably. "About eight o'clock next morning I saw sixteen Spanish officers in full uniform, with their swords and belts, preceded by the said Don José, marching in file through the court of the palace, at the side-door of which they entered. A few minutes afterwards my friend, the aide-de-camp, came to acquaint me, that "the court-martial, by which I was to be tried, was constituted, and awaited me." Without any futile protestation against the illegality and rapidity of this measure, I followed him to a spacious apartment, having four large windows, which opened clown to the floor, and overlooked a grass park which lay behind the palace. The members of the court, over which the town-major (who, from the first, had constituted himself my deadly enemy) presided, were solemnly sworn across their swords; they promised to administer justice according to the laws of war, and so forth, and then the prosecution proceeded. "I was charged with murdering, or causing to be shot, two peasants; robbery, in levying contributions; blasphemous sacrilege, in destroying a statue of the Blessed Virgin. My horizon was now black as it could be! I knew very little of the language. Save Crogan, who remained beside me in court, I had not a friend or a comrade near me; for the whole of my guard had marched for Belem four hours before, while Maurice Quill, and the other sick officers, could neither defend nor succour me. I perceived in a moment, that, as Crogan said, I had been accused of outrages committed by les Chasseurs Britanniques (who wore scarlet uniform); but I resolved, that unless matters went hard with myself, not to criminate their officer, who, by leaving his own proper route, and relaxing his discipline, had become guilty of the acts for which I was that day to suffer. The three principal witnesses against me were, the alcalde, the muleteer, and a farmer from the partida of La Guardia. "The first—old, stupid, half-blind, and obstinate—swore to my face that I was the officer who had ordered his dear brother Vincentio, the abogado, to be shot on his own threshold, and another man to be bayoneted. In vain I drew his attention to the Highland cap of the 71st, and to my tartan trews, assuring him that I was an Escoto. He shook his head—I wore a red coat—I was the very man! "Then came the muleteer, a sturdy Catalonian, clad in a fur jacket and yellow cotton breeches, wearing a broad sombrero, under which his black hair hung in a red net. He, too, swore across his knife, that I had carried off his train of mules, or at least, that at the bayonet's point, my soldiers had done so, to travel more at their ease. "'He did not see me, neither did he then see any waggons of sick, but he knew his mules as well as if he had been the father of them, the moment they appeared in the streets of la Ciudad Real.' "'You will swear to your mules, hombre?' "'By the marks in their ears, Don José, as readily as I would swear to my own nose.' "'Lead forward some of those mules to the window, and let the witness see them.' "An uproar of voices was heard in the park, and the witness, who went to the window, uttered a cry of dismay. The ears of his twenty mules had been shred off close by the bone! "'Morte de Dios!' growled the officers, twirling their mustaches; 'these Inglesos are devils!' "'It was murtherin cruel for the poor bastes,' whispered Darby Crogan; 'but it was all to save your honour's life I cropped them; and sure it is worth a bushel of mules' ears; for it was a good bushel ov 'em I buried this blessed morning. The Lord reward Misther Quill, for it was his best docthor's knife he lint me, to make croppies of them all.' "The little Major Don José was bursting with wrath. "'Call the next witness,' he exclaimed, furiously. "A tall, powerfully-formed, and fair-complexioned man, who, contrary to the Spanish custom, was closely shaven, now came forward, and stated himself to be a farmer, or jardinero, at Mora and La Guardia. He had a large patch on his cheek, and kept one hand constantly thrust into the red and yellow sash which girt his waist. "Confronting me boldly and vindictively, with all the glare of hate a cold grey eye can pour, he accused me of destroying for firewood a statue of the Virgin at Mora, and swore to having seen the act committed. A growl of anger followed his evidence; and I found that shooting an alcalde's brother, and carrying off twenty mules, were mere jokes, compared to this. I was startled by his voice, which, assuredly, I had heard before—but where? What could be the origin of a charge so false, so strange, as sacrilege? I turned to question him, but he was at that moment ordered to withdraw. "'Señor Ayudante de Campo,' said Don José, 'read from the RECOPILACION of the military penalties the first article.' "'El que blasfamare el santo nombre de Dios, de la Vergén ó de los Santos, será immediamente preso y castigado por la primero vez con la,' &c. "'Read the fourth article, concerning outrage to divine images, for the prisoner has been alike sacrilegious and blasphemous.' "'El que con irreverencia y deliberation cannocida de desprecio ajare de obra las sagradas imagenes, ornamentos ó cualquierro de las casas dedicados al Divino culto, ó las hurtare, servá ahorcado,' &c. "'The plot thickens,' thought I. "In short, they sentenced me to be hanged. "The Marquis, as Governor of Ciudad Heal, dared to confirm this unjust sentence, which he directed should be put in execution in the Plaza, at eight o'clock on the following morning. "Far, far from aid and my comrades; wholly at the mercy of men, whose hearts the cunning charge of the last witness had totally closed against me; aware of the futility of denial and defiance, and the hopelessness of rescue or escape, I sat in a grated room of the public carcel, or gaol, of the town, almost stupefied by the suddenness, the shame, and opprobrium of my impending fate. 'Poets and painters,' says a certain writer, 'have ever made the estate of a man condemned to die one of their favourite themes of comment or description.' By heavens! I never met one of either which came within a thousand degrees of the agony I endured that night at Ciudad Real. I, a gentleman, a soldier, bearing on my person three wounds, won on that accursed Spanish soil; innocent of all they alleged; young, with a long life and rapid promotion before me, to be cut off thus—strangled like a garotted villain—hanged like a dog, to glut the noonday frenzy of a Spanish rabble! Horrible! I had often faced death without shrinking; but now, like a coward's, my whole soul shrunk from such a death as that which these Spaniards meted out to me. "The night came on: I sat in darkness, revolving a myriad futile plans of escape. I was to die to-morrow, and that conviction seemed palpably before me. I heard it, saw it, felt it; there was a dull sound humming in my ears—a tingling in my heart. I recollected, with remorse and shame, how coldly, calmly, and unmoved I had seen the provost-marshal's guard hang six soldiers on the retreat from Burgos. I remembered their struggles, their agonies, and wondered how they felt. I passed a hand over my throat, compressed it a little, and shuddered. "And now, in the man who had accused me of sacrilege, I suddenly remembered Barba Roxa, the robber, and the hand I had maimed was that which he retained in his sash. "'Fool! fool! that I am,' I exclaimed, bitterly; 'where were my eyes, my ears, my faculties, that knew him not before? This is his revenge—his Spaniard's triumph.' "Even my friend, the aide-de-camp, seemed to have abandoned me; and could it be that the pretty daughter of the Marquis had not pleaded, or said one kind word to save the poor officer who had so freely risked his life for hers? "All at once my stupor left me. I sprang to the bars of the window, and from their solid sockets, madly strove to wrench them with a tiger's strength. I felt every corner; the vast iron lock of the door, the door itself moveless as a wall of adamant. Vain, vain! I was to die to-morrow, and my swollen heart almost burst with emotion, when I thought of my friends, my family, and my regiment, all canvassing the various causes of a death so ignominious. "A face appeared suddenly at the window, which was raised. "'Don't be alarmed, yer honour, it's only me,' said a voice. "'Crogan—you!' I exclaimed, in the confusion of my thoughts; 'are you not dead—in heaven?' "'In heaven—the Lord forbid! I'm here, standing on my two feet, not that I think people there stand on their heads; but don't be spakin' in that doleful way, sir, at all, for you must prepare to lave this place in less than no time. Do you hear the knockin' of hammers? It's them thavin' Spaniards puttin' up the dancin' post in the Plaza—blazes take that same!' "'Leave this! Crogan; but how?' "'By the door, to be sure. It will be opened in ten minutes; and horses are waitin' for the three of us, I hope, at the corner of the sthreet.' "'The three of us, Darby?' "'Ay, sir, just the three of us; for isn't there a darlin' young lady goin', too?—but I must be afther lookin' to the girths and straps of our cattle.' "He was scarcely gone when the door of the room opened, and the daughter of the Marquis stood before me, together with a man bearing a light; and in that man I recognised the under carcelero, or turnkey. "'Oh! señora,' I exclaimed, my heart bounding with gratitude and joy, 'you have not forgotten me—or abandoned me to this cruel and unmerited death.' "'Hush, señor; not a word of thanks or of transport, for that would spoil all,' she replied, with calmness and decision. 'I do, indeed, owe you a debt of gratitude; but the mention of that to my father, and more than all to Don José——' "'Ah, you shudder at that name.' "'Would but accelerate your fate. I have bribed the carcelero,' she whispered, 'and he will sleep sound. His deputy is about to join the guerillas of the great Don Julian Sanchez, and for twenty dollars will guide you to Madrid, sent by my cousin, the ayudante; your horses are waiting at the corner of the Plaza. No more,' she added, shortly, when I attempted to kiss her hand, which the thick folds of her ample veil concealed. "In a minute we had left the detested prison-house, and crossed the garden which lay between it and the Plaza. Again the glorious moon was rolling in its silver splendour over Ciudad Heal; and as I gazed on my fair companion, the interest I felt for her returned vividly, and became stronger, as the moment approached when I should leave her for ever. I saw her magnificent eyes sparkling through her veil. "'Señora,' said I, with hesitation, as our attendant, by hurrying on before, had left us for one instant alone—'Señora,' I continued, urged by a kind, a grateful, and a stronger impulse than I could at that time analyse, 'though to remain here is remaining but to die, I leave Ciudad Real with the most sincere sorrow.' "'And why?' "'Because I may never see you again.' "'But I also am going to Madrid—and this night, too.' "I remembered the words of Crogan; I knew alia Spanish love was capable of; my heart leaped within me. "'Madrid!' I reiterated. "'With you and your brave dragoon. Ah, señor, do not refuse to escort me. My father is bent on marrying me to Don José——' "'What!—that rascally old town-major? My dear señora, I beg you not to think of it.' "'Ah! I have thought a great deal of it, and wept for it too.' "'Then,' said I, drawing my breath more freely, end seeing a prospect of vengeance on the pot-bellied major, 'you do not love him?' "'Oh no; I hate, abhor, detest him; and to avoid him, am about to retire to Madrid, where my aunt lives. She is reverend mother at our Lady of Attocha. You know the great convent where the little Jesus is that works the miracles, and looks so beautiful, a love of an infant, on the altar of the Hundred Lamps. My aunt will save me from this detested union if you, señor, will but afford me your escort. I am friendless,' she continued, weeping; 'for such is the terror of my father's name that there is not a man in Ciudad Real whom I can trust. Yet I shall confide in your goodness; indeed I am sure—I know—I think, I may. The British officer has a high sense of chivalry 'and honour, but Ay de mi! el Espanol no tiene nada.' "'Madam,' said I, touched to the heart by the compliment, and her confiding nature, 'trust to me, and while life remains, by heaven, and that honour, I will see you safely to Madrid.' "Crogan, with three saddle-horses, stood at the gate. We mounted, the fair Estella springing on her jennet, à la cavalier, in the fashion of Old Castile. We left Ciudad Heal by the northern gate, and then put our horses to their mettle, as we avoided the direct route to Madrid, and struck off into the mountains towards Carrion de Calatrava. "I might spin my story beyond the limits allotted to me, but surely it requires no conjuror to guess the sequel! The interest begun by the miniature, so fortunately found, the charming society, confidence, and generous spirit of the original strengthened and confirmed. In four days we reached Madrid, in four more we were married in the convent chapel of Attocha. "The Marquis sent the Major Don José expressly to Wellington, requesting him to hang and behead me. His grace declined to accede, but the name of Captain ——, of Les Chasseurs Britanniques, was struck out of the army-list. My head is still safe on my shoulders, though somewhat powdered by time. Thanks to his Grace of Richmond, I have got my medal with eight clasps, and La Señora Estella (now known by another name) is, though somewhat old like myself, one of the dearest and most affectionate wives in the world, and I crave a bumper in her honour, gentlemen." Such was the story of our worthy major, whose toast I need scarcely say was drunk with enthusiasm. Our doctor was the next, and like every one who has a story to tell he had listened with considerable impatience to the adventures of the major, and the moment his toast had been duly honoured and silence was restored, he began his tale without further preface, and was then followed by our rough old Highland quartermaster. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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