eded to explain, that the
_middies_ would not put them out for him, when the naked shoulders and
the head of one of them, illuminated with a red nightcap, made its
appearance above the hatchway, and began to take a lively share in
the argument. The marine officer, looking down, with some
astonishment, demanded, "d--n you, sir, who are you?" to which the
head and shoulders immediately rejoined, "and d--n and b--t you, sir,
who are you?"

We landed on the island of South Beeveland, where we remained about
three weeks, playing at soldiers, smoking _mynheer's_ long clay pipes,
and drinking his _vrow's_ butter-milk, for which I paid liberally with
my precious blood to their infernal musquitos; not to mention that I
had all the extra valour shaken out of me by a horrible ague, which
commenced a campaign on my carcass, and compelled me to retire upon
Scotland, for the aid of my native air, by virtue of which it was
ultimately routed.

I shall not carry my first chapter beyond my first campaign, as I am
anxious that my reader should not expend more than his first breath
upon an event which cost too many their last.

CHAP. II.

Rejoin the Regiment. Embark for the Peninsula. Arrival in the
Tagus. The City of Lisbon, with its Contents. Sail for Figuera.
Landing extraordinary. Billet ditto. The City of Coimbra. A hard
Case. A cold Case, in which a favourite Scotch Dance is
introduced. Climate. The Duke of Wellington.

I rejoined the battalion, at Hythe, in the spring of 1810, and,
finding that the company to which I belonged had embarked, to join the
first battalion in the Peninsula, and that they were waiting at
Spithead for a fair wind, I immediately applied, and obtained
permission, to join them.

We were about the usual time at sea, and indulged in the usual
amusements, beginning with keeping journals, in which I succeeded in
inserting two remarks on the state of the weather, when I found my
inclination for book-making superseded by the more disagreeable study
of appearing eminently happy under an irresistible inclination towards
sea-sickness. We anchored in the Tagus in September;--no thanks to the
ship, for she was a leaky one, and wishing foul winds to the skipper,
for he was a bad one.

To look at Lisbon from the Tagus, there are few cities in the universe
that can promise so much, and none, I hope, that can keep it so badly.

I only got on shore one day, for a few hours, and, as