at once
perceived from the information which they contained that they must have
been written by an officer holding a high command under him. Determined
to ascertain the author--who, in addressing a public journal, was
violating the Articles of War, and, it might be, assisting the
enemy--means were employed in London to identify the writer. The
result was, that Lord Wellington discovered the author of the letters
to be no other than Sir Charles Stewart, the late Lord Londonderry. As
soon as Lord Wellington had made himself master of this fact, he
summoned Sir Charles Stewart to head-quarters at Torres Vedras; and on
his appearance, he, without the least preface, addressed him thus:--

"Charles Stewart, I have ascertained with deep regret that you are the
author of the letters which appeared in the Morning Chronicle abusing
me and finding fault with my military plans."

Lord Wellington paused here for a moment, and then continued:

"Now, Stewart, you know your brother Castlereagh is my best friend, to
whom I owe everything; nevertheless, if you continue to write letters
to the Chronicle, or any other newspaper, by God, I will send you home."

Sir Charles Stewart was so affected at this rebuke that he shed tears,
and expressed himself deeply penitent for the breach of confidence and
want of respect for the Articles of War. They immediately shook hands
and parted friends. It happened, however, that Sir Charles Stewart did
not remain long in the cavalry, of which he was Adjutant-General.
Within a few weeks he was named one of the Commissioners deputed to
proceed to the Allied Armies, where the Sovereigns were then completing
their plans to crush Napoleon.

ST. JEAN DE LUZ

During the winter of 1813, the Guards were stationed with head-quarters
at St Jean de Luz, and most comfortable we managed to make them. For
some short time previously we had been on scanty commons, and had
undergone considerable privation: indeed we might have said, like the
Colonel to Johnny Newcome on his arrival to join his regiment, "We sons
of Mars have long been fed on brandy and cigars." I had no cause to
complain personally; for my servant, a Sicilian, was one of the most
accomplished foragers (ill-natured persons might give him a worse name)
in the whole army; and when others were nearly starving, he always
managed to provide meat or poultry. He rode on his mule sometimes from
twenty to thirty miles, often running the greate