FOOTNOTES

Johnny Newcome going to lay in Stock.

Getting into his Billet.

1This species of partial puffing is carried too far. It reminds me of something of a similar tendency, that panegerized a young Count who was killed by aBroad-Wheeled Waggon.

2The intention of government was no doubt to consult as much as possible the convenience of the Officers; but, the arrangementwas, andis, shameful, respecting their treatment when embarked and on board Transports. In the first instance, hurried to get on Board, they immediately find they have nothing to expect but a hard berth, the use of the Cabin, and Rations; no utensils to cook with, or to use; no person to cook for them; in short, all must depend on their individual exertion. Conceive a young Lad, without a servant, and with a scanty purse, thus situated, expecting a voyage of a month or six weeks’ continuance!

3With respect to the Officers at Lisbon, who were there either on duty, or leave, or otherwise, the variety of their dress became at length so ridiculous that Major-General Peacock was obliged to issue a severe Order, restricting them to the use of the Regimental Great Coat, and Hat, or Cap.

Lord Wellington, in consequence of the heat of the weather, indulged the Officers in wearing loose Great Coats; but this was soon followed up with waistcoats of all sorts, and colours, with filagree gold, or silver buttons, and what were called Forage Caps, of all fancies and shapes. They only wanted the appendage of Bells.

4All Officers under the rank of Field-Officer, on landing at Lisbon, were ordered to report themselves at the Town-Major’s Office, and were from thence sent to the Belem Depôt, to be disposed of by the Commandant there.

5‘No intende,’ in Portuguese, signifies ‘don’t understand.’

6The Barracks at Belem were assigned as a general receptacle for Detachments coming from England, and all recovered Men. Captain Brown, of the 23rd Regiment (than whom no Officer could have managed the duties of Commandant more properly, reputably, and honourably), made the arrangements for the march of Parties to join the Army, apportioned the number of Officers; and gave them orders, and directions for their conduct. Sometimes he permitted Officers to proceed alone to join their Regiments, but generally they were attached to Parties.

One general Rout to the Army was established, and the distances so divided, and Depôts formed, that the parties could be provisioned every three or four Days; a Commandant, and Adjutant, with requisite non-commissioned officers, being established at each Depôt, together with a Commissariat and an Hospital; and though last, not, unfortunately, the least necessary, a Provost-Marshal.

7At the commencement of the Campaign on the Peninsula, the Portuguese certainly treated the British Officers in the most generous manner,—voluntarily and hospitably received them into their Houses, and externally carried their liberality to great excess; giving up their most elegant Apartments, supplying them with a proportion of Plate, Linen, Fuel, and Wax Candles; but it is with regret that I am obliged to state that this indulgence and hospitality was, in many instances, scandalously abused, and the most ungentlemanlike, ungrateful, indecent, and ungenerous returns were often made. What was the consequence? So many complaints were made against the Officers for abusing their Billets, that a General Order was issued, stating the number of rooms each rank was entitled to, and restricting thequantumof Furniture to one Table,oneChair, and one Lamp, and an allowance of Oil for each Apartment, with the use of a Kitchen. The consequence follows, that whatever inconvenience, mortification, rudeness, or inhospitable treatment Officers have since experienced, results from the misconduct (I hope only comparatively) of a few. Circumstances in the outset may have imposed a sentiment on the Natives, perhaps rather foreign to their disposition; but the change of circumstances, and the conduct of our Officers, seem to have left a disposition in the Portuguese to treat us roughly, and to get rid of us altogether.

8The opening of the Odoriferous Sluices generally commences about 9 o’clockP.M.and continues, without intermission, for about two hours, and woe to those unfortunates whose business, or pleasure, leads them forth during this display of Portuguese cleanliness!

There are certain regulations respecting this filthy outrage, such as requiring those people to call out three times, by way of warning the Foot-passenger of his danger, and the offenders are likewise liable to be called to some sort of reckoning; but the Laws, and the administration of the Laws, are altogether so defective, that it is very difficult to get redress, in cases in which robbery, or even murder, have been committed. Nay, I this moment see a Villain at large, who, without receiving any offence, but what he chose to consider one, on a young Officer’s looking at a Girl, actually followed him, and struck him from behind with a stick so heavily as to brake his arm. The fellow was taken up, and evidences produced, proving the fact: but he is protected by his master (afidalgo,i.e.a gentleman), and at this moment insolently stares a British officer in the face.

9It was customary for the British Officers who came to Lisbon for the purpose of joining the army, to provide themselves with a Mule or two, to carry their baggage. The only convenient opportunity to make this purchase was at a sort of fair, held every Tuesday in the lower part of the town. There, Horses, Mules, and Donkies were bought and sold; and, as in all Markets, the price chiefly depended on the demand. The Portuguese Horse-dealer has all the avidity of an English jockey to pick your pocket, but they are not soau faitat the business. At this Fair, you buy or sell your Animal. The bargain is struck, the Money paid, and the contract is indissoluble.

English Guineas, at that time, had no attraction. The Dollar, orMoidore, was the medium; but since the Guineas have been introduced in payment of the Army, the Portuguese seem to appreciate their value.

It was customary for Officers who wanted Cash to give their Draft on some House in London, &c. &c.; but it was purchasing Money very expensively, giving at the rate of six Shillings and Sixpence for a Dollar that would bring only five Shillings; thus losing eighteen-pence on every five Shillings.

10The Portuguese greeting each other, embrace; a practice certainly strange to a Briton, and recollecting the effluvia of garlic, is horribly offensive.

11Messrs. Smith and Co. opened a Warehouse of English goods, where an Officer might suit himself (paying rather dearly) with every article of wearing apparel, and furniture for the animals, &c.

12The scarcity of forage rendered it necessary to curtail the quantity of animals allowed for the use of the army. This fell somewhat hard on Subaltern Officers, who were obliged so to contract their baggage as to deprive themselves of many articles actually necessary to their convenience. That something to wear—something to sleep on—something to eat—and something to cook with—were really necessary for existence; and only one miserable animal was allowed to carry what was so essential for two Subaltern Officers; but it was unfortunately the case.

13SenhorCavigole, as well as many others, Misters andSenhors, kept shops replete with stores of all sorts, which they sold at a very high price, but with which officers knew they must be supplied; for the hungry French had deprived the Portuguese of that little they possessed; and it did happen, and not unfrequently, that divisions had been so scantily supplied with rations, that even a private soldier has been known to give a Dollar for one biscuit, and glad to satisfy his hunger at that enormous rate.

14TheJuis de Ferois the Magistrate. The soldiers contracted the appellation toJewish.

15The Subaltern Officers, in the Portuguese service, were taken from very humble situations, and of course are not treated by their countrymen with the distinction and respect which British Officers claim; consequently, where Quarters or Billets are disposed according to rank, the PortugueseAlfares, or Ensigns, are thrust into any wretched hovel, and, from the ignorance of the country magistrates, the British Subaltern Officers were not unfrequently treated with as little ceremony: many of them were billeted in the most wretched, filthy, miserable dwellings, which among a race of people so excessively nasty in themselves, rendered the officers particularly uncomfortable.

16Immediately in the vicinity of Lisbon, a person may contrive at the inns, or rather wine houses, to be somewhat better accommodated than at a Subaltern’s billet.

17No disrespect is intended, but until one can ‘make a Silk Purse of a Sow’s ear,’ we must be content to submit to the ‘insolence of Office.’

THE MILITARY ADVENTURESOFJOHNNY NEWCOMEPART II

Nowonce on their Way we see the Pair,When John, as passing, did around him stare;Though flat the Country, oft he got a peepAt the smooth Tagus in its mazy sweep;Whose Banks well covered by the richest soil,Yielding abundant Crops, with scanty Toil.‘’Tis a fine Country, Teague, one needs must say,‘But thousands should not tempt me here to stay.’‘I’d not live here,’ says Teague, ‘among the Craters;‘Give me dear Ireland, Whiskey and Paraters.’

Nowonce on their Way we see the Pair,

When John, as passing, did around him stare;

Though flat the Country, oft he got a peep

At the smooth Tagus in its mazy sweep;

Whose Banks well covered by the richest soil,

Yielding abundant Crops, with scanty Toil.

‘’Tis a fine Country, Teague, one needs must say,

‘But thousands should not tempt me here to stay.’

‘I’d not live here,’ says Teague, ‘among the Craters;

‘Give me dear Ireland, Whiskey and Paraters.’

Taking his Breakfast.

Thus time beguil’d in social chat was past,When John reflected he’d not broke his Fast.When from the Road a narrow path he took,And gain’d a Rocky Bank, hard by a Brook.For now friend Sol had his meridian got—John felt uneasy, ’twas so scorching hot.With eager look a survey round he made,To take advantage of some friendly Shade.Alas! no friendly Bough would interposeA shadow large enough to screen his nose,So, near the spot at which his Dobbins drank,He crept beneath the shelving of the Bank;Whilst Teague, regardless of the Sultry ray,Unpack’d the load, and let the Dobbins stray:Then spread the Breakfast, which, to John’s relief,Proved a good store of Biscuit, Ham, and Beef.John, now refresh’d, still closer in did creep,With Brandy quench’d his thirst, and fell asleep.Teague hearing now his Master snore profound,With great composure squatted on the ground;Then with the Brandy filled the largest Cup—‘Here’s to good luck!’ said he, then drank it up.Again replenish’d, down again it goes,—‘And that’s,’ said Teague, ‘in honour of my Nose.’Another filled, Teague thought it mighty clever,Though last, not least, ’twas ‘Ireland for ever.’Then cast a look around, to see all right,Fell on his back, and wish’d himself good Night.When now the Sun had three parts clear’d his Course,Teague started up, and look’d for Mule and Horse;Pack’d up and loaded, and with gentle stroke,Touching his Master’s shoulder, he awoke;‘’Tis time to March, Sir, and more cool the weather.’John was content, so off they went together;Reach’d Gallega that night; Punhete next day.Poor John knock’d up, began to curse the Way.‘Such Bl—st—d Roads will make a Fellow crazy!’‘O plase you, Sir,’ said Teague, ‘do just be asy;‘By Ja—s ’tis a turnpike, let me tell ye,‘To what you’ll meet with at that Villa Velhe.’John interrupted Teague in his Oration,To know, was not Abrantes the next Station?‘Faith, and it is,’ said Teague, ‘there is no doubt;‘Is it not mintioned in your Honour’s Route?’‘O! D——n the Route,’ said John; ‘I want to know,‘I’m so curst tired, how far we have to go!’Abrantes Castle now came full in sight,Much to John’s consolation and delight.A T——r was itsJuiz; as folk say,If not belied, and in the Frenchman’s pay,A Brutish Coxcomb—rough, and most uncivil,Who slily wish’d our Army at the Devil;On all occasions, it was his delight,On British Officers to vent his spite;Kept John, with Teague and Baggage, at his Door,Kicking their heels for full three hours and more.John fumed and fretted—but ’twas all in vain;Till tired to death, his Billet did obtain.But such a filthy, loathsome, beastly HutMud walls, Mud floor, besmear’d with Slime & Smut!‘O L—d!’ says John, ‘pray how shall I contrive,‘In this D——n’d hole, to keep myself alive?’A half-starved Taylor, vamping up old breeches,Cried, ‘Viva, Senhor!’ and pursu’d his stitches.‘Viver!’ said John, ‘O G—d confound your “viver,”‘This horrid place will put me in a Fever.’Then with Grimaces, Sighs, and Groans, and Shrugs,Explor’d this den of Lice, and Fleas, and Bugs.It is a fact well known, the PortugueseCherish voluptuously both Lice and Fleas;Some Bramin-like, are influenc’d by Piety,But mostly for Amusement, and Society;For Females oft in parties will carouse,Scratching each other’s Heads, t’ entrap a Louse,Whilst on their skins, the Fleas will Skip, & Scramble,And wanton Lice through all their ringlets ramble.Not that these Gamesome Merriments we find,As in some Countries, to the Poor confin’d;Here does their influence undisputed Reign,From Courtly Nobles, to the humble Swain.But to resume, poor John, as it was late,Sadly submitted to his wretched fate;Rejected Food, on Canteens stretch’d he lay,And sullen watch’d for the returning Day.Teague fed his Animals, then took his Dose,And soon resign’d himself to his repose.Restless poor John now pass’d the tedious Night,Each minute starting from a greedy Bite;With outstretch’d neck, his eyes he cast aloof,Reliev’d at length by Day-light through the Roof,Set Teague to work, and so without delay,Saddled his Dobbins, and went on his way.Now eagerly he sniffed the fragrant Gale,The Tagus crossed, and travell’d in the Dale.Govina, Niza, now left in their Rear,When Dobbin stopped, and bristled up with fear.‘God rot the beast!’ says John in some amaze,Rose in his stirrups, and did round him gaze:A sight beheld, that gave his nerves a shock,A mangled human Body on the Rock.18Transfix’d, he stared with horror and affright,And roared to hasten Teague with all his might.Teague unconcerned, with shrug of nonchalance,Said, ‘O, by Ja—s! you’ll ne’er get to France!‘He’s a Frenchman, Master, that lies sprawling,‘The Wolves have given him a pretty mauling.’‘What, Teague,’ said John, who felt another dread,‘Is’t Wolves that have upon this Carcase fed?’Again with horror did around him peer;‘Won’t they attack us, Teague?’ they must be near.‘Attack,’ says Teague, ‘your honour need not fright;‘If we were dead, and Travelling here, they might.’John tired, and anxious, now began to grumble,The cursed, rugged Road, made Dobbin stumble;Some sad mishap his senses now forebodes,When Teague exclaims, ‘These are theDevil’sown Roads!’Now from a Cliff they view’d a Gulph below,Where Tagus sternly midst the Rocks did flow,A narrow path they follow’d, jam’d with stones,John, Dobbin led, and trembled for his bones:Scrambling, & straggling, step from Ridge to Ridge;At length, the danger passed, they reach’d the Bridge.Now on their Route we find them each day gaining,But, wearied out, poor Johnny ceas’d complaining;Grown used to suffer Insolence and PillageIn every beastly town and dirty Village;To see Religion made the tool of Knaves;To crush morality, and nourish Slaves.As now to Salamanca near John drew,Pleas’d that to Portugal he’d bid adieu,Was told to hasten—there might be a Fight,The Hostile foes were in each other’s sight:With British ardour thrilling thro’ each vein;Urged by an impulse nothing could restrain.John’s soul was meek, but he felt in truthWith all the bashful modesty of Youth;From his blest native Soil he did inheritA bold, determined mind, and active spirit;Nought could his zealous energy oppose,He’d join his Reg’ment, and he’d face its Foes—Boldly push’d on to share in the Attack,And found the brave King’s Own inBivouac.19All here to John appear’d both strange, and new,He knew not what to say, nor what to do;Which way to turn, nor whom he should accost,—Poor John amidst the motley Crew was lost.Here groupes of Soldiers, in light converse stood,Some he saw cooking, others fetching Wood.And here, and there, were seen a huddled heap,In spite of scorching Sun, all fast asleep.And now a crowd of Officers he sees,On Rocky fragments sitting at their ease.John went to seek the Officer Commanding:An Officer replied, ‘Sir, there he’s standing.’John now with modesty reveal’d his Name,Told him the Rank he held, and how he came.

Thus time beguil’d in social chat was past,

When John reflected he’d not broke his Fast.

When from the Road a narrow path he took,

And gain’d a Rocky Bank, hard by a Brook.

For now friend Sol had his meridian got—

John felt uneasy, ’twas so scorching hot.

With eager look a survey round he made,

To take advantage of some friendly Shade.

Alas! no friendly Bough would interpose

A shadow large enough to screen his nose,

So, near the spot at which his Dobbins drank,

He crept beneath the shelving of the Bank;

Whilst Teague, regardless of the Sultry ray,

Unpack’d the load, and let the Dobbins stray:

Then spread the Breakfast, which, to John’s relief,

Proved a good store of Biscuit, Ham, and Beef.

John, now refresh’d, still closer in did creep,

With Brandy quench’d his thirst, and fell asleep.

Teague hearing now his Master snore profound,

With great composure squatted on the ground;

Then with the Brandy filled the largest Cup—

‘Here’s to good luck!’ said he, then drank it up.

Again replenish’d, down again it goes,—

‘And that’s,’ said Teague, ‘in honour of my Nose.’

Another filled, Teague thought it mighty clever,

Though last, not least, ’twas ‘Ireland for ever.’

Then cast a look around, to see all right,

Fell on his back, and wish’d himself good Night.

When now the Sun had three parts clear’d his Course,

Teague started up, and look’d for Mule and Horse;

Pack’d up and loaded, and with gentle stroke,

Touching his Master’s shoulder, he awoke;

‘’Tis time to March, Sir, and more cool the weather.’

John was content, so off they went together;

Reach’d Gallega that night; Punhete next day.

Poor John knock’d up, began to curse the Way.

‘Such Bl—st—d Roads will make a Fellow crazy!’

‘O plase you, Sir,’ said Teague, ‘do just be asy;

‘By Ja—s ’tis a turnpike, let me tell ye,

‘To what you’ll meet with at that Villa Velhe.’

John interrupted Teague in his Oration,

To know, was not Abrantes the next Station?

‘Faith, and it is,’ said Teague, ‘there is no doubt;

‘Is it not mintioned in your Honour’s Route?’

‘O! D——n the Route,’ said John; ‘I want to know,

‘I’m so curst tired, how far we have to go!’

Abrantes Castle now came full in sight,

Much to John’s consolation and delight.

A T——r was itsJuiz; as folk say,

If not belied, and in the Frenchman’s pay,

A Brutish Coxcomb—rough, and most uncivil,

Who slily wish’d our Army at the Devil;

On all occasions, it was his delight,

On British Officers to vent his spite;

Kept John, with Teague and Baggage, at his Door,

Kicking their heels for full three hours and more.

John fumed and fretted—but ’twas all in vain;

Till tired to death, his Billet did obtain.

But such a filthy, loathsome, beastly Hut

Mud walls, Mud floor, besmear’d with Slime & Smut!

‘O L—d!’ says John, ‘pray how shall I contrive,

‘In this D——n’d hole, to keep myself alive?’

A half-starved Taylor, vamping up old breeches,

Cried, ‘Viva, Senhor!’ and pursu’d his stitches.

‘Viver!’ said John, ‘O G—d confound your “viver,”

‘This horrid place will put me in a Fever.’

Then with Grimaces, Sighs, and Groans, and Shrugs,

Explor’d this den of Lice, and Fleas, and Bugs.

It is a fact well known, the PortugueseCherish voluptuously both Lice and Fleas;Some Bramin-like, are influenc’d by Piety,But mostly for Amusement, and Society;For Females oft in parties will carouse,Scratching each other’s Heads, t’ entrap a Louse,Whilst on their skins, the Fleas will Skip, & Scramble,And wanton Lice through all their ringlets ramble.Not that these Gamesome Merriments we find,As in some Countries, to the Poor confin’d;Here does their influence undisputed Reign,From Courtly Nobles, to the humble Swain.

It is a fact well known, the Portuguese

Cherish voluptuously both Lice and Fleas;

Some Bramin-like, are influenc’d by Piety,

But mostly for Amusement, and Society;

For Females oft in parties will carouse,

Scratching each other’s Heads, t’ entrap a Louse,

Whilst on their skins, the Fleas will Skip, & Scramble,

And wanton Lice through all their ringlets ramble.

Not that these Gamesome Merriments we find,

As in some Countries, to the Poor confin’d;

Here does their influence undisputed Reign,

From Courtly Nobles, to the humble Swain.

But to resume, poor John, as it was late,Sadly submitted to his wretched fate;Rejected Food, on Canteens stretch’d he lay,And sullen watch’d for the returning Day.Teague fed his Animals, then took his Dose,And soon resign’d himself to his repose.Restless poor John now pass’d the tedious Night,Each minute starting from a greedy Bite;With outstretch’d neck, his eyes he cast aloof,Reliev’d at length by Day-light through the Roof,Set Teague to work, and so without delay,Saddled his Dobbins, and went on his way.

But to resume, poor John, as it was late,

Sadly submitted to his wretched fate;

Rejected Food, on Canteens stretch’d he lay,

And sullen watch’d for the returning Day.

Teague fed his Animals, then took his Dose,

And soon resign’d himself to his repose.

Restless poor John now pass’d the tedious Night,

Each minute starting from a greedy Bite;

With outstretch’d neck, his eyes he cast aloof,

Reliev’d at length by Day-light through the Roof,

Set Teague to work, and so without delay,

Saddled his Dobbins, and went on his way.

Now eagerly he sniffed the fragrant Gale,The Tagus crossed, and travell’d in the Dale.Govina, Niza, now left in their Rear,When Dobbin stopped, and bristled up with fear.‘God rot the beast!’ says John in some amaze,Rose in his stirrups, and did round him gaze:A sight beheld, that gave his nerves a shock,A mangled human Body on the Rock.18Transfix’d, he stared with horror and affright,And roared to hasten Teague with all his might.Teague unconcerned, with shrug of nonchalance,Said, ‘O, by Ja—s! you’ll ne’er get to France!‘He’s a Frenchman, Master, that lies sprawling,‘The Wolves have given him a pretty mauling.’‘What, Teague,’ said John, who felt another dread,‘Is’t Wolves that have upon this Carcase fed?’Again with horror did around him peer;‘Won’t they attack us, Teague?’ they must be near.‘Attack,’ says Teague, ‘your honour need not fright;‘If we were dead, and Travelling here, they might.’

Now eagerly he sniffed the fragrant Gale,

The Tagus crossed, and travell’d in the Dale.

Govina, Niza, now left in their Rear,

When Dobbin stopped, and bristled up with fear.

‘God rot the beast!’ says John in some amaze,

Rose in his stirrups, and did round him gaze:

A sight beheld, that gave his nerves a shock,

A mangled human Body on the Rock.18

Transfix’d, he stared with horror and affright,

And roared to hasten Teague with all his might.

Teague unconcerned, with shrug of nonchalance,

Said, ‘O, by Ja—s! you’ll ne’er get to France!

‘He’s a Frenchman, Master, that lies sprawling,

‘The Wolves have given him a pretty mauling.’

‘What, Teague,’ said John, who felt another dread,

‘Is’t Wolves that have upon this Carcase fed?’

Again with horror did around him peer;

‘Won’t they attack us, Teague?’ they must be near.

‘Attack,’ says Teague, ‘your honour need not fright;

‘If we were dead, and Travelling here, they might.’

John tired, and anxious, now began to grumble,The cursed, rugged Road, made Dobbin stumble;Some sad mishap his senses now forebodes,When Teague exclaims, ‘These are theDevil’sown Roads!’Now from a Cliff they view’d a Gulph below,Where Tagus sternly midst the Rocks did flow,A narrow path they follow’d, jam’d with stones,John, Dobbin led, and trembled for his bones:Scrambling, & straggling, step from Ridge to Ridge;At length, the danger passed, they reach’d the Bridge.Now on their Route we find them each day gaining,But, wearied out, poor Johnny ceas’d complaining;Grown used to suffer Insolence and PillageIn every beastly town and dirty Village;To see Religion made the tool of Knaves;To crush morality, and nourish Slaves.

John tired, and anxious, now began to grumble,

The cursed, rugged Road, made Dobbin stumble;

Some sad mishap his senses now forebodes,

When Teague exclaims, ‘These are theDevil’sown Roads!’

Now from a Cliff they view’d a Gulph below,

Where Tagus sternly midst the Rocks did flow,

A narrow path they follow’d, jam’d with stones,

John, Dobbin led, and trembled for his bones:

Scrambling, & straggling, step from Ridge to Ridge;

At length, the danger passed, they reach’d the Bridge.

Now on their Route we find them each day gaining,

But, wearied out, poor Johnny ceas’d complaining;

Grown used to suffer Insolence and Pillage

In every beastly town and dirty Village;

To see Religion made the tool of Knaves;

To crush morality, and nourish Slaves.

As now to Salamanca near John drew,Pleas’d that to Portugal he’d bid adieu,Was told to hasten—there might be a Fight,The Hostile foes were in each other’s sight:With British ardour thrilling thro’ each vein;Urged by an impulse nothing could restrain.

As now to Salamanca near John drew,

Pleas’d that to Portugal he’d bid adieu,

Was told to hasten—there might be a Fight,

The Hostile foes were in each other’s sight:

With British ardour thrilling thro’ each vein;

Urged by an impulse nothing could restrain.

John’s soul was meek, but he felt in truthWith all the bashful modesty of Youth;From his blest native Soil he did inheritA bold, determined mind, and active spirit;Nought could his zealous energy oppose,He’d join his Reg’ment, and he’d face its Foes—Boldly push’d on to share in the Attack,And found the brave King’s Own inBivouac.19

John’s soul was meek, but he felt in truth

With all the bashful modesty of Youth;

From his blest native Soil he did inherit

A bold, determined mind, and active spirit;

Nought could his zealous energy oppose,

He’d join his Reg’ment, and he’d face its Foes—

Boldly push’d on to share in the Attack,

And found the brave King’s Own inBivouac.19

All here to John appear’d both strange, and new,He knew not what to say, nor what to do;Which way to turn, nor whom he should accost,—Poor John amidst the motley Crew was lost.Here groupes of Soldiers, in light converse stood,Some he saw cooking, others fetching Wood.And here, and there, were seen a huddled heap,In spite of scorching Sun, all fast asleep.And now a crowd of Officers he sees,On Rocky fragments sitting at their ease.John went to seek the Officer Commanding:An Officer replied, ‘Sir, there he’s standing.’John now with modesty reveal’d his Name,Told him the Rank he held, and how he came.

All here to John appear’d both strange, and new,

He knew not what to say, nor what to do;

Which way to turn, nor whom he should accost,—

Poor John amidst the motley Crew was lost.

Here groupes of Soldiers, in light converse stood,

Some he saw cooking, others fetching Wood.

And here, and there, were seen a huddled heap,

In spite of scorching Sun, all fast asleep.

And now a crowd of Officers he sees,

On Rocky fragments sitting at their ease.

John went to seek the Officer Commanding:

An Officer replied, ‘Sir, there he’s standing.’

John now with modesty reveal’d his Name,

Told him the Rank he held, and how he came.

Introduced to his Colonel.

The Officer his aid now friendly lent him,Proposing to the Colonel to present him.To this John readily gave his assent,And arm in arm they sociably went.Arriv’d, the Officer first stepped before,‘This, Sir, is EnsignNewcome, of our Corps.’‘I’m very glad to see you, Mr.Newcome;‘’Tis charming weather: pray from whence do you come?’‘Uncommon hot, Sir! but I push’d my Cattle,‘In hopes I should in time be for the Battle.’‘O! you’re in famous time, you need not fear:‘But you must send your Baggage to the Rear.’‘The Devil!’ quoth John, ‘this is a queer beginning,‘So sweating Hot, and not a change of Linen.’And then in modest accents did intreat,He might reserve his Canteens and his Meat.20‘By no means, Sir, just now, we Sons of Mars,‘Are glad to live on Brandy and Segars.‘In anxious times like these, it is our plan,‘To satisfy our hunger as we can;‘The Ground our Bed, where we contented lie,‘Nought interposes ’twixt us and the Sky.‘We first must drub yon Saucy Vapouring Elves,‘Then get our Baggage, and enjoy ourselves.’John listen’d, scrap’d, and bow’d, and then retir’d:(Not that the Colonel’s speech he much admir’d.)‘Come,’ said his Friend, ‘cheer up, & don’t be glum.‘I’ve got a Biscuit, and a little Rum.’‘No, no,’ said John, ‘I’ll from my Canteens borrow,‘We’ll feast to-day, altho’ we starve to-morrow.‘Then hand out, Teague, whatever is to spare,‘And let us all the Prog amongst us share.’Now see him careless stretch’d upon the ground,Viewing with silent wonder all around.His brother Officers so oddly drest,Their ragged Jacket, and their purple Vest;Reg’mental Great Coats, batter’d, bare, and old;And Forage Caps that once were blue, and gold.Shirts of whose proper colour were no trace.Mustachios, Whiskers, that disguised their face.Yet all was lively, frolicsome, and gay,Full of their laughter—full of fun and play.And now John’s Hams and Tongues were all paraded,And by his hungry Friends were soon invaded;The flowing Cup they to each other bandy,They ate his Prog, and drank up all his Brandy.In course of conversation there aroseA question, as to number of their Foes.One said there’s Twenty Thousand; others sworeThere were, they thought,at leastas many more:As many more at least they would maintain—Look at their Columns stretching o’er the Plain.John started up, astonish’d to descryThe Hostile Army just below them lie.‘O bless my heart!’ said John, ‘what lots of Foes,‘They’re scattered all about as thick as Crows.’He view’d them with a keen, astonish’d eye,Felt rather queer to find they were so nigh.But snugly kept his thoughts within his breast,Fearful they’d turn his ignorance to jest.Now evening closed, and cast a silent gloom;‘Come,’ says his friend, ‘lay down, we’ll make you room:‘Here take this Blanket, and beneath you spread,‘And here’s a Stone, as Pillow for your Head.’John thankfully conformed to his advice,And, like the rest, was snoring in a trice.Now the bold Leader of each Hostile Band,Manœuvred for the ’vantage of the Land.At length great Wellington, with his Allies,Completely took the Frenchmen by surprize,—Boldly descended in the midst of Day,Attack’d the French as they supinely lay;His Light troops skirmishing, began the Battle,Then thundering Cannon thro’ the Ranks did rattle.Divisions to Divisions then oppose,But British valour soon overwhelm’d its Foes.Then burst the Cavalry with heroic speed,Charging their Squares, and every where succeed.Beat at all points, the dastard Frenchmen yield,Trust all to flight, and scamper from the Field.Thus the brave British, German, Portuguese,Fought, Conquer’d, Triumph’d at th’ Arepiles;And I, to deck my story, fain would sing,How all the Salamanca Bells did ring;How Peasants unconcerned, th’ ensuing Day,Plough’d thro’ the honour’d soil where Heroes lay.But no—content I’ll to my story keep,And so return to John I left asleep;Who, wrapt in slumber, care forgetting, lies,The Long roll Beat—he started, rubb’d his eyes.‘Why, what’s the matter?—surely it is dark.’‘Aye,’ says his friend, ‘we rise before the Lark.‘Our Orders are to fall in every Morn,‘And stand to Arms an hour before the Dawn;‘Come, rouse my honest Fellow, don’t be slack,‘At break of day the Frenchmen may attack.’John rose, but grumbled out, ‘If I’d been told,‘They’d start me up thus shivering in the Cold;‘To go Campaigning, I would ne’er been led.‘But stuck to my own Corps, and Feather-Bed.’The Adjutant did now friend Johnny fix,To Captain Bull’s division, Number Six;In Captain Buckett’s company, when ‘Lo!’Says John, ‘I think I Captain Buckett know;‘His uncle’s Tub the Brewer, I’ve no doubt,—‘Old Buckett lives in Faringdon Without.’Soon recogniz’d—the Morn began to break;His Captain begg’d he’d half a biscuit take:‘Eat it, my boy, and mind what I shall say,‘I’m sure we shall have pepp’ring work to Day;‘And drink this Rum, for I’m apt to think‘We shall have more to do than eat and drink.’And he was right; in truth they soon did hear—A sort of busy Hum came from the Rear.An Order from the General, to say,‘The Column was to move without delay.’John to his Captain stuck, but was perplex’dTo think of what the deuce was coming next.Now for three hours they March’d with steady pace,Till they descended to the Mountain’s base.The Column halted—stood in close Array;The Light Troops forward push’d to feel the way.The Muskets’ prittle prattle soon commences,Along the Front, from Ditches, Walls, and Fences.Now, ’scaping from a distant patch of Smoke,Shells from the Frenchmen’s Mortars round them broke.And now their Field-Guns at the Column aiming,Shot, after Shot, in peals of thunder coming.

The Officer his aid now friendly lent him,

Proposing to the Colonel to present him.

To this John readily gave his assent,

And arm in arm they sociably went.

Arriv’d, the Officer first stepped before,

‘This, Sir, is EnsignNewcome, of our Corps.’

‘I’m very glad to see you, Mr.Newcome;

‘’Tis charming weather: pray from whence do you come?’

‘Uncommon hot, Sir! but I push’d my Cattle,

‘In hopes I should in time be for the Battle.’

‘O! you’re in famous time, you need not fear:

‘But you must send your Baggage to the Rear.’

‘The Devil!’ quoth John, ‘this is a queer beginning,

‘So sweating Hot, and not a change of Linen.’

And then in modest accents did intreat,

He might reserve his Canteens and his Meat.20

‘By no means, Sir, just now, we Sons of Mars,

‘Are glad to live on Brandy and Segars.

‘In anxious times like these, it is our plan,

‘To satisfy our hunger as we can;

‘The Ground our Bed, where we contented lie,

‘Nought interposes ’twixt us and the Sky.

‘We first must drub yon Saucy Vapouring Elves,

‘Then get our Baggage, and enjoy ourselves.’

John listen’d, scrap’d, and bow’d, and then retir’d:(Not that the Colonel’s speech he much admir’d.)‘Come,’ said his Friend, ‘cheer up, & don’t be glum.‘I’ve got a Biscuit, and a little Rum.’‘No, no,’ said John, ‘I’ll from my Canteens borrow,‘We’ll feast to-day, altho’ we starve to-morrow.‘Then hand out, Teague, whatever is to spare,‘And let us all the Prog amongst us share.’

John listen’d, scrap’d, and bow’d, and then retir’d:

(Not that the Colonel’s speech he much admir’d.)

‘Come,’ said his Friend, ‘cheer up, & don’t be glum.

‘I’ve got a Biscuit, and a little Rum.’

‘No, no,’ said John, ‘I’ll from my Canteens borrow,

‘We’ll feast to-day, altho’ we starve to-morrow.

‘Then hand out, Teague, whatever is to spare,

‘And let us all the Prog amongst us share.’

Now see him careless stretch’d upon the ground,Viewing with silent wonder all around.His brother Officers so oddly drest,Their ragged Jacket, and their purple Vest;Reg’mental Great Coats, batter’d, bare, and old;And Forage Caps that once were blue, and gold.Shirts of whose proper colour were no trace.Mustachios, Whiskers, that disguised their face.Yet all was lively, frolicsome, and gay,Full of their laughter—full of fun and play.

Now see him careless stretch’d upon the ground,

Viewing with silent wonder all around.

His brother Officers so oddly drest,

Their ragged Jacket, and their purple Vest;

Reg’mental Great Coats, batter’d, bare, and old;

And Forage Caps that once were blue, and gold.

Shirts of whose proper colour were no trace.

Mustachios, Whiskers, that disguised their face.

Yet all was lively, frolicsome, and gay,

Full of their laughter—full of fun and play.

And now John’s Hams and Tongues were all paraded,And by his hungry Friends were soon invaded;The flowing Cup they to each other bandy,They ate his Prog, and drank up all his Brandy.In course of conversation there aroseA question, as to number of their Foes.One said there’s Twenty Thousand; others sworeThere were, they thought,at leastas many more:As many more at least they would maintain—Look at their Columns stretching o’er the Plain.John started up, astonish’d to descryThe Hostile Army just below them lie.‘O bless my heart!’ said John, ‘what lots of Foes,‘They’re scattered all about as thick as Crows.’He view’d them with a keen, astonish’d eye,Felt rather queer to find they were so nigh.But snugly kept his thoughts within his breast,Fearful they’d turn his ignorance to jest.

And now John’s Hams and Tongues were all paraded,

And by his hungry Friends were soon invaded;

The flowing Cup they to each other bandy,

They ate his Prog, and drank up all his Brandy.

In course of conversation there arose

A question, as to number of their Foes.

One said there’s Twenty Thousand; others swore

There were, they thought,at leastas many more:

As many more at least they would maintain—

Look at their Columns stretching o’er the Plain.

John started up, astonish’d to descry

The Hostile Army just below them lie.

‘O bless my heart!’ said John, ‘what lots of Foes,

‘They’re scattered all about as thick as Crows.’

He view’d them with a keen, astonish’d eye,

Felt rather queer to find they were so nigh.

But snugly kept his thoughts within his breast,

Fearful they’d turn his ignorance to jest.

Now evening closed, and cast a silent gloom;‘Come,’ says his friend, ‘lay down, we’ll make you room:‘Here take this Blanket, and beneath you spread,‘And here’s a Stone, as Pillow for your Head.’John thankfully conformed to his advice,And, like the rest, was snoring in a trice.

Now evening closed, and cast a silent gloom;

‘Come,’ says his friend, ‘lay down, we’ll make you room:

‘Here take this Blanket, and beneath you spread,

‘And here’s a Stone, as Pillow for your Head.’

John thankfully conformed to his advice,

And, like the rest, was snoring in a trice.

Now the bold Leader of each Hostile Band,Manœuvred for the ’vantage of the Land.At length great Wellington, with his Allies,Completely took the Frenchmen by surprize,—Boldly descended in the midst of Day,Attack’d the French as they supinely lay;His Light troops skirmishing, began the Battle,Then thundering Cannon thro’ the Ranks did rattle.Divisions to Divisions then oppose,But British valour soon overwhelm’d its Foes.Then burst the Cavalry with heroic speed,Charging their Squares, and every where succeed.Beat at all points, the dastard Frenchmen yield,Trust all to flight, and scamper from the Field.Thus the brave British, German, Portuguese,Fought, Conquer’d, Triumph’d at th’ Arepiles;And I, to deck my story, fain would sing,How all the Salamanca Bells did ring;How Peasants unconcerned, th’ ensuing Day,Plough’d thro’ the honour’d soil where Heroes lay.But no—content I’ll to my story keep,And so return to John I left asleep;Who, wrapt in slumber, care forgetting, lies,The Long roll Beat—he started, rubb’d his eyes.‘Why, what’s the matter?—surely it is dark.’‘Aye,’ says his friend, ‘we rise before the Lark.‘Our Orders are to fall in every Morn,‘And stand to Arms an hour before the Dawn;‘Come, rouse my honest Fellow, don’t be slack,‘At break of day the Frenchmen may attack.’John rose, but grumbled out, ‘If I’d been told,‘They’d start me up thus shivering in the Cold;‘To go Campaigning, I would ne’er been led.‘But stuck to my own Corps, and Feather-Bed.’The Adjutant did now friend Johnny fix,To Captain Bull’s division, Number Six;In Captain Buckett’s company, when ‘Lo!’Says John, ‘I think I Captain Buckett know;‘His uncle’s Tub the Brewer, I’ve no doubt,—‘Old Buckett lives in Faringdon Without.’Soon recogniz’d—the Morn began to break;His Captain begg’d he’d half a biscuit take:‘Eat it, my boy, and mind what I shall say,‘I’m sure we shall have pepp’ring work to Day;‘And drink this Rum, for I’m apt to think‘We shall have more to do than eat and drink.’And he was right; in truth they soon did hear—A sort of busy Hum came from the Rear.An Order from the General, to say,‘The Column was to move without delay.’John to his Captain stuck, but was perplex’dTo think of what the deuce was coming next.

Now the bold Leader of each Hostile Band,

Manœuvred for the ’vantage of the Land.

At length great Wellington, with his Allies,

Completely took the Frenchmen by surprize,—

Boldly descended in the midst of Day,

Attack’d the French as they supinely lay;

His Light troops skirmishing, began the Battle,

Then thundering Cannon thro’ the Ranks did rattle.

Divisions to Divisions then oppose,

But British valour soon overwhelm’d its Foes.

Then burst the Cavalry with heroic speed,

Charging their Squares, and every where succeed.

Beat at all points, the dastard Frenchmen yield,

Trust all to flight, and scamper from the Field.

Thus the brave British, German, Portuguese,

Fought, Conquer’d, Triumph’d at th’ Arepiles;

And I, to deck my story, fain would sing,

How all the Salamanca Bells did ring;

How Peasants unconcerned, th’ ensuing Day,

Plough’d thro’ the honour’d soil where Heroes lay.

But no—content I’ll to my story keep,

And so return to John I left asleep;

Who, wrapt in slumber, care forgetting, lies,

The Long roll Beat—he started, rubb’d his eyes.

‘Why, what’s the matter?—surely it is dark.’

‘Aye,’ says his friend, ‘we rise before the Lark.

‘Our Orders are to fall in every Morn,

‘And stand to Arms an hour before the Dawn;

‘Come, rouse my honest Fellow, don’t be slack,

‘At break of day the Frenchmen may attack.’

John rose, but grumbled out, ‘If I’d been told,

‘They’d start me up thus shivering in the Cold;

‘To go Campaigning, I would ne’er been led.

‘But stuck to my own Corps, and Feather-Bed.’

The Adjutant did now friend Johnny fix,

To Captain Bull’s division, Number Six;

In Captain Buckett’s company, when ‘Lo!’

Says John, ‘I think I Captain Buckett know;

‘His uncle’s Tub the Brewer, I’ve no doubt,—

‘Old Buckett lives in Faringdon Without.’

Soon recogniz’d—the Morn began to break;

His Captain begg’d he’d half a biscuit take:

‘Eat it, my boy, and mind what I shall say,

‘I’m sure we shall have pepp’ring work to Day;

‘And drink this Rum, for I’m apt to think

‘We shall have more to do than eat and drink.’

And he was right; in truth they soon did hear—

A sort of busy Hum came from the Rear.

An Order from the General, to say,

‘The Column was to move without delay.’

John to his Captain stuck, but was perplex’d

To think of what the deuce was coming next.

Now for three hours they March’d with steady pace,Till they descended to the Mountain’s base.The Column halted—stood in close Array;The Light Troops forward push’d to feel the way.The Muskets’ prittle prattle soon commences,Along the Front, from Ditches, Walls, and Fences.Now, ’scaping from a distant patch of Smoke,Shells from the Frenchmen’s Mortars round them broke.And now their Field-Guns at the Column aiming,Shot, after Shot, in peals of thunder coming.

Now for three hours they March’d with steady pace,

Till they descended to the Mountain’s base.

The Column halted—stood in close Array;

The Light Troops forward push’d to feel the way.

The Muskets’ prittle prattle soon commences,

Along the Front, from Ditches, Walls, and Fences.

Now, ’scaping from a distant patch of Smoke,

Shells from the Frenchmen’s Mortars round them broke.

And now their Field-Guns at the Column aiming,

Shot, after Shot, in peals of thunder coming.

Smells powder for the first time.

When John this skirmishing did first behold,He thought the Little Light bobs desperate bold.But when stray Bullets whistled by his Ear,John rather shrunk—but ’twas not done through fear;’Twas his first trial, he could not disguiseA natural impulse, taken by surprise.Now Bullets, Balls, and Shells around them flew,As to th’ embattled Foe they nearer drew.Now to its Right the Column did incline,—Gain’d its Position, forming into Line;With slow, but bold, intrepid pace, advanceAmidst the Vollies of the Troops of France.The Battle soon with death-like fury rag’d.John’s mind, his Eye, his every thought engag’d.Around him Slaughter dwelt with ruthless Blow,And Heroes’ blood did in sad torrents flow,When Johnny suddenly receiv’d command,He in his Captain’s place should take his stand.Struck by the fragments of a Broken Shell,Fighting his country’s cause, the Hero fell.Undaunted, undismayed, our gallant JohnTook the Command, and bravely led them on.And now by British valour close assail’d(For British valour every where prevail’d),Three piercing shouts their Hostile Bands invade,When desperately the British charge was made.O’erthrown, disorder’d, down their arms they threw,Whilst British Victors every where pursue.Thousands lay drench’d in gore upon the plain,Thousands led Captive in the Conqueror’s train.The Battle o’er, the foe now put to flight,Chac’d by the Victors till the close of night.The Gallant Bands to neighbouring heights retire,In groupes collected, nestle round the Fire;The conflicts of the day by turns relate,—Count o’er the slaughtered, and lament their fate.Stretch’d on the ground, they lay in sound repose,Nor rous’d from slumber, till the Sun arose.With melancholy zeal John bent his wayTo seek the spot where his brave Captain lay—Fain would I stop, but truth I must impart,And spread a gloom o’er every British heart;As slow his searching eye survey’d the ground,Bestrew’d with Mangled Carcases around,He saw, when speechless, horror-struck he stood,The naked Body weltering in its Blood.21‘Alas!’ says John, with indignation heated,‘Is this the way a gallant Hero’s treated?’And now the Body to the earth he gave,And with a friendly tear bedew’d the Grave.When Johnny did a Letter home Indite,To tell his mother all about the Fight.

When John this skirmishing did first behold,

He thought the Little Light bobs desperate bold.

But when stray Bullets whistled by his Ear,

John rather shrunk—but ’twas not done through fear;

’Twas his first trial, he could not disguise

A natural impulse, taken by surprise.

Now Bullets, Balls, and Shells around them flew,

As to th’ embattled Foe they nearer drew.

Now to its Right the Column did incline,—

Gain’d its Position, forming into Line;

With slow, but bold, intrepid pace, advance

Amidst the Vollies of the Troops of France.

The Battle soon with death-like fury rag’d.

John’s mind, his Eye, his every thought engag’d.

Around him Slaughter dwelt with ruthless Blow,

And Heroes’ blood did in sad torrents flow,

When Johnny suddenly receiv’d command,

He in his Captain’s place should take his stand.

Struck by the fragments of a Broken Shell,

Fighting his country’s cause, the Hero fell.

Undaunted, undismayed, our gallant John

Took the Command, and bravely led them on.

And now by British valour close assail’d

(For British valour every where prevail’d),

Three piercing shouts their Hostile Bands invade,

When desperately the British charge was made.

O’erthrown, disorder’d, down their arms they threw,

Whilst British Victors every where pursue.

Thousands lay drench’d in gore upon the plain,

Thousands led Captive in the Conqueror’s train.

The Battle o’er, the foe now put to flight,

Chac’d by the Victors till the close of night.

The Gallant Bands to neighbouring heights retire,

In groupes collected, nestle round the Fire;

The conflicts of the day by turns relate,—

Count o’er the slaughtered, and lament their fate.

Stretch’d on the ground, they lay in sound repose,

Nor rous’d from slumber, till the Sun arose.

With melancholy zeal John bent his way

To seek the spot where his brave Captain lay—

Fain would I stop, but truth I must impart,

And spread a gloom o’er every British heart;

As slow his searching eye survey’d the ground,

Bestrew’d with Mangled Carcases around,

He saw, when speechless, horror-struck he stood,

The naked Body weltering in its Blood.21

‘Alas!’ says John, with indignation heated,

‘Is this the way a gallant Hero’s treated?’

And now the Body to the earth he gave,

And with a friendly tear bedew’d the Grave.

When Johnny did a Letter home Indite,

To tell his mother all about the Fight.

Johnny writes an account of the Action to his Mother, which afterwards appears in the Star.

‘Dear Mother,‘In few words I will contrive‘To let you know that I am safe alive.‘I know, dear Mother, it will give you joy—‘The Colonel said, I was a gallant Boy.‘But truly, Mother, my poor pen can’t tell‘How we were Pepper’d by the Shots and Shell.‘Poor Buckett too, you know, old Buckett’s son,‘Was kill’d, and fell before we made them run.‘And now, dear Mother, I’m sure for joy you’ll cry,‘To know who led his Soldiers to the charge? but I.‘Our glorious General too, he lives as hard‘As any Ticket Porter in our Ward.‘But I’ve no time, though much I have to say,‘We’re order’d to March off without delay.‘I don’t know where to give you my direction,‘So give my loving Father my affection.‘We shall have Peace, and then go home again,‘So I most dutifully do remain,‘J. N.’

‘Dear Mother,

‘In few words I will contrive

‘To let you know that I am safe alive.

‘I know, dear Mother, it will give you joy—

‘The Colonel said, I was a gallant Boy.

‘But truly, Mother, my poor pen can’t tell

‘How we were Pepper’d by the Shots and Shell.

‘Poor Buckett too, you know, old Buckett’s son,

‘Was kill’d, and fell before we made them run.

‘And now, dear Mother, I’m sure for joy you’ll cry,

‘To know who led his Soldiers to the charge? but I.

‘Our glorious General too, he lives as hard

‘As any Ticket Porter in our Ward.

‘But I’ve no time, though much I have to say,

‘We’re order’d to March off without delay.

‘I don’t know where to give you my direction,

‘So give my loving Father my affection.

‘We shall have Peace, and then go home again,

‘So I most dutifully do remain,

‘J. N.’

Half Rations.

The Rations now arriv’d, each took his share,And eagerly devour’d the scanty Fare;And scanty Fare it was, consisting chiefOf flinty Biscuit, tough, and stinking Beef,Tho’ Teague’s report at first made John look glum—‘’Tis only half allowance, and no Rum.’‘O Damn those Commissaries! what a disaster,‘They’ve brought us down, you see, to Lath & Plaster.‘But, “Vive la guerre,” ’tis useless to repine.’So on they March, and in the pursuit join.Now rapidly they on the vanquish’d prest,Snatching at intervals a hasty rest.Day after Day, and frequently all Night,They speed to check the Frenchmen in their flight:When luckily for John, an order cameTo Halt—for John was wearied, & poor Dobbin lame.Close to Medina now their Stations took,Amidst the standing Barley, near a Brook.Knock’d up was John, his spirits quite forsook him,So to his Hospital the Doctor took him.‘Come cheer, my friend; come rally and be gay;—‘I’ve got some Lads to Dine with me to-day.’John fain would rally, but was sick at heart;Though at the dinner tried to play his part.‘Come,’ says the Doctor, ‘here’s Rum and Segars;‘This is the way we carry on our Wars.‘Here, smoke, my boy, I know ’twill do you good;‘And try this Country wine, ’twill cool your Blood.’John smoked, & drank, & drank, & smoked again,But nought upon his Stomach would remain.His head turn’d round—he tried to gain the door,But miss’d his mark, and sp—d upon the floor.‘O Ja—s,’ says a lively Irish Blade,‘I ne’er before saw such a grand Cascade.’Holding his Nose, exclaim’d a chubbly Lad,‘Give me some Rum, or I shall be as bad.’‘True,’ says a third, and winking as he spoke,‘Though well he stood the Fire, he can’t the Smoke.’‘Aye,’ says the Doctor, sagely, ‘it a fact is,‘Tobacco fumes corrode for want of practice;‘Coming in contact with theMesentery,‘Sickness produce, and sometimes Dysentery.’‘Aye,’ says another, cramming up his Snuff,‘One at a time, the Cascade’s quite enough.’‘Come,Newcome,’ says the Doctor, ‘once more try;‘Of this you’ll get the better bye and bye.’But now against the wall, John held his head,And drawling out, ‘Ah, no! I’m almost dead.’So, on a Blanket stretch’d, in wretched plight,And, parch’d with fever, groan’d away the Night.

The Rations now arriv’d, each took his share,

And eagerly devour’d the scanty Fare;

And scanty Fare it was, consisting chief

Of flinty Biscuit, tough, and stinking Beef,

Tho’ Teague’s report at first made John look glum—

‘’Tis only half allowance, and no Rum.’

‘O Damn those Commissaries! what a disaster,

‘They’ve brought us down, you see, to Lath & Plaster.

‘But, “Vive la guerre,” ’tis useless to repine.’

So on they March, and in the pursuit join.

Now rapidly they on the vanquish’d prest,

Snatching at intervals a hasty rest.

Day after Day, and frequently all Night,

They speed to check the Frenchmen in their flight:

When luckily for John, an order came

To Halt—for John was wearied, & poor Dobbin lame.

Close to Medina now their Stations took,

Amidst the standing Barley, near a Brook.

Knock’d up was John, his spirits quite forsook him,

So to his Hospital the Doctor took him.

‘Come cheer, my friend; come rally and be gay;—

‘I’ve got some Lads to Dine with me to-day.’

John fain would rally, but was sick at heart;

Though at the dinner tried to play his part.

‘Come,’ says the Doctor, ‘here’s Rum and Segars;

‘This is the way we carry on our Wars.

‘Here, smoke, my boy, I know ’twill do you good;

‘And try this Country wine, ’twill cool your Blood.’

John smoked, & drank, & drank, & smoked again,

But nought upon his Stomach would remain.

His head turn’d round—he tried to gain the door,

But miss’d his mark, and sp—d upon the floor.

‘O Ja—s,’ says a lively Irish Blade,

‘I ne’er before saw such a grand Cascade.’

Holding his Nose, exclaim’d a chubbly Lad,

‘Give me some Rum, or I shall be as bad.’

‘True,’ says a third, and winking as he spoke,

‘Though well he stood the Fire, he can’t the Smoke.’

‘Aye,’ says the Doctor, sagely, ‘it a fact is,

‘Tobacco fumes corrode for want of practice;

‘Coming in contact with theMesentery,

‘Sickness produce, and sometimes Dysentery.’

‘Aye,’ says another, cramming up his Snuff,

‘One at a time, the Cascade’s quite enough.’

‘Come,Newcome,’ says the Doctor, ‘once more try;

‘Of this you’ll get the better bye and bye.’

But now against the wall, John held his head,

And drawling out, ‘Ah, no! I’m almost dead.’

So, on a Blanket stretch’d, in wretched plight,

And, parch’d with fever, groan’d away the Night.

Learning to Smoke and drink Grog.

Poor Johnny on the sick List.

Next morn the Doctor came, his Friend to seek,And found poor Johnny, feverish, and weak.‘Ah! Sir,’ says John, ‘it is to me quite clear,‘That I’m a dead man, if they keep me here.’The Doctor felt his Pulse, and gave a shrug;The Constitution could not stand the Tug.‘Your health, poorNewcome, does so bad appear,‘That I shall send you straightways to the Rear.‘To Salamanca first, and when you’re there,‘You will be ordered Home for change of Air.‘The Board of Surgeons will, I’m well assur’d,‘At once decide that here you can’t be cured.’

Next morn the Doctor came, his Friend to seek,

And found poor Johnny, feverish, and weak.

‘Ah! Sir,’ says John, ‘it is to me quite clear,

‘That I’m a dead man, if they keep me here.’

The Doctor felt his Pulse, and gave a shrug;

The Constitution could not stand the Tug.

‘Your health, poorNewcome, does so bad appear,

‘That I shall send you straightways to the Rear.

‘To Salamanca first, and when you’re there,

‘You will be ordered Home for change of Air.

‘The Board of Surgeons will, I’m well assur’d,

‘At once decide that here you can’t be cured.’

Back to Index Next