but of a different
class: several pretty and well-dressed women, with their dark eyes
twinkling above their black mantillas as they held them across their faces,
watched with an intense curiosity one of the streets that opened upon the
square.

In a few moments the band of a regiment was heard, and very shortly after
the regular tramp of troops followed, as the Eighty-seventh marched into
the Plaza, and formed a line.

The music ceased; the drums rolled along the line; and the next moment
all was still. It was really an inspiriting sight to one whose heart was
interested in the career, to see those gallant fellows, as, with their
bronzed faces and stalwart frames, they stood motionless as a rock. As I
continued to look, the band marched into the middle of the square, and
struck up, "Garryowen." Scarcely was the first part played, when a
tremendous cheer burst from the troop-ship in the river. The welcome notes
had reached the poor fellows there; the well-known sounds that told of home
and country met their ears; and the loud cry of recognition bespoke their
hearts' fulness.

"There they go. Your wild countrymen have heard their _Ranz des vaches_,
it seems. Lord! how they frightened the poor Portuguese; look how they're
running!"

Such was actually the case. The loud cheer uttered from the river was taken
up by others straggling on shore, and one universal shout betokened that
fully one-third of the red-coats around came from the dear island, and in
their enthusiasm had terrified the natives to no small extent.

"Is not that Ferguson there!" cried the major, as an officer passed us with
his arm in a sling. "I say, Joe--Ferguson! oh, knew it was!"

"Monsoon, my hearty, how goes it?--only just arrived, I see. Delighted to
meet you out here once more. Why, we've been as dull as a veteran battalion
without you. These your friends? Pray present me." The ceremony of
introduction over, the major invited Ferguson to join our party at supper.
"No, not to-night, Major," said he, "you must be my guests this evening. My
quarters are not five minutes' walk from this; I shall not promise you very
luxurious fare."

"A carbonade with olives, a roast duck, a bowl of bishop, and, if you will,
a few bottles of Burgundy," said the major; "don't put yourself out for
us,--soldier's fare, eh?"

I could not help smiling at the _naive_ notion of simplicity so cunningly
suggested by old Monsoon. As I followed the party through the street