A chorus of voices enforced and explained.It was one of Lord Wellington's heroes.He had been wounded under Rowland Hill.He was Colbourne's right-hand man.In short, this favoured individual appeared to have served with every separate corps, and under every individual general in the Peninsula.Of course I apologised.I had not known.The devil was in it if a soldier had not a right to the best in England.And with that sentiment, which was loudly applauded, I found a corner of a bench, and awaited, with some hopes of entertainment, the return of the hero.He proved, of course, to be a private soldier.I say of course, because no officer could possibly enjoy such heights of popularity.He had been wounded before San Sebastian, and still wore his arm in a sling.What was a great deal worse for him, every member of the company had been plying him with drink.His honest yokel's countenance blazed as if with fever, his eyes were glazed and looked the two ways, and his feet stumbled as, amidst a murmur of applause, he returned to the midst of his admirers.
Two minutes afterwards I was again posting in the dark along the highway; to explain which sudden movement of retreat I must trouble the reader with a reminiscence of my services.
I lay one night with the out-pickets in Castile.We were in close touch with the enemy; the usual orders had been issued agains