ent 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