rather
ashamed of the step they had taken. On the same day, we were relieved,
and on our way back met Lord Wellington with his hounds. He was
dressed in a light blue frock coat (the colour of the Hatfield hunt)
which had been sent out to him as a present from Lady Salisbury, then
one of the leaders of the fashionable world, and an enthusiastic
admirer of his lordship.

Here, I remember seeing for the first time a very remarkable character,
the Hon. W. Dawson, of my regiment. He was surrounded by muleteers,
with whom he was bargaining to provide carriage for innumerable hampers
of wine, liqueurs, hams, potted meat, and other good things, which he
had brought from England. He was a particularly gentlemanly and
amiable man, much beloved by the regiment: no one was so hospitable or
lived so magnificently. His cooks were the best in the army, and he,
besides, had a host of servants of all nations--Spaniards, French,
Portuguese, Italians--who were employed in scouring the country for
provisions. Lord Wellington once honoured him with his company; and on
entering the ensign's tent, found him alone at table, with a dinner fit
for a king, his plate and linen in good keeping, and his wines perfect.
Lord Wellington was accompanied on this occasion by Sir Edward Pakenham
and Colonel du Burgh, afterwards Lord Downes. It fell to my lot to
partake of his princely hospitality and dine with him at his quarters,
a farmhouse in a village on the Bidassoa, and I never saw a better
dinner put upon table. The career of this amiable Amphitryon, to our
great regret, was cut short, after exercising for about a year a
splendid but not very wise hospitality. He had only a younger
brother's fortune; his debts became very considerable, and he was
obliged to quit the Guards. He and his friends had literally eaten up
his little fortune.

FOOLHARDINESS

I may here recount an instance of the folly and foolhardiness of youth,
and the recklessness to which a long course of exposure to danger
produces. When Bayonne was invested, I was one night on duty on the
outer picket. The ground inside the breastwork which had been thrown up
for our protection by Burgoyne was in a most disagreeable state for any
one who wished to repose after the fatigues of the day, being knee-deep
in mud of a remarkably plastic nature. I was dead tired, and
determined to get a little rest in some more agreeable spot; so calling
my sergeant, I told him to give m