inkling of trees, it is always an object
to secure a good one, as it affords shelter from the sun by day and
the dews by night, besides being a sort of home or sign post for a
group of officers, as denoting the best place of entertainment; for
they hang their spare clothing and accoutrements among the branches,
barricade themselves on each side with their saddles, canteens, and
portmanteaus, and, with a blazing fire in their front, they indulge,
according to their various humours, in a complete state of
gipsyfication.

There are several degrees of comfort to be reckoned in a bivouac, two
of which will suffice.

The first, and worst, is to arrive at the end of a cold wet day, too
dark to see your ground, and too near the enemy to be permitted to
unpack the knapsacks or to take off accoutrements; where,
unincumbered with baggage or eatables of any kind, you have the
consolation of knowing that things are now at their worst, and that
any change must be for the better. You keep yourself alive for a
while, in collecting material to feed your fire with. You take a smell
at your empty calibash, which recalls to your remembrance the
delicious flavour of its last drop of wine. You curse your servant for
not having contrived to send you something or other from the baggage,
(though you know that it was impossible). You then damn the enemy for
being so near you, though probably, as in the present instance, it was
you that came so near them. And, finally, you take a whiff at the end
of a cigar, if you have one, and keep grumbling through the smoke,
like distant thunder through a cloud, until you tumble into a most
warlike sleep.

The next, and most common one, is, when you are not required to look
quite so sharp, and when the light baggage and provisions come in at
the heel of the regiment. If it is early in the day, the first thing
to be done is to make some tea, the most sovereign restorative for
jaded spirits. We then proceed to our various duties. The officers of
each company form a mess of themselves. One remains in camp to attend
to the duties of the regiment; a second attends to the mess: he goes
to the regimental butcher, and bespeaks a portion of the only
purchaseable commodities, hearts, livers, and kidneys; and also to see
whether he cannot _do_ the commissary out of a few extra biscuit, or a
canteen of brandy; and the remainder are gentlemen at large for the
day. But while they go hunting among the neighbouring regim