is left to look after itself, and is going to the
devil as fast as it can."

"As individuals," said Bradshawe, "that is the probable destination of
most of us."

"We will have to get Julian Sanchez, or the Empecinado, or some other
guerilla chief, to undertake its reformation," continued L'Isle, in
great heat. "I forgot to suggest to my lord, that before we march
away, we ought to levy a contribution, as a bounty for the blessings
we bestow on the neighborhood in leaving it."

"A capital idea," said Bradshawe, "but by no means original. The
French always do so when they change their cantonments; that is, if
there be any thing left in the country around. If our hands were not
tied, we might yet learn some clever arts from Monsieur. Junot's
system was to drive up all the farm cattle of the neighborhood just
before he marched off; then allow them to be redeemed at a low cash
price. He found it a capital way to extract the last hidden crusado."

"You have mastered the enemy's system thoroughly," said L'Isle, with a
sneer. "But as our hands are tied, we cannot imitate them. Perhaps it
would better become your position in the brigade, for you to try and
rouse his lordship to the necessity of checking the license that is
growing daily."

"I would gladly do so," said Bradshawe; "but being no Oxford logician,
have not your irresistible power of convincing him. You have handled
the matter so fully and ably, that I need only repeat faithfully every
word you have said. You may depend upon me for that." And, turning
his horse, he rode gently off toward headquarters, while L'Isle
galloped up the hill to Elvas.

Bradshawe found Lord Strathern in as great a rage as the comrade he
had just parted with; so he amused himself with drawing out from his
lordship a recital of their late conversation, which he repaid with a
sketch of L'Isle's roadside conference with himself. The old soldier
was only the more provoked on finding that, freely as L'Isle had
spoken, he could hardly charge him with insubordination, or twist his
hot arguments into a personal insult. Soothing and chafing him by
turns, Bradshawe did not permit the subject to drop until they were
interrupted by a courier with despatches.

"What is all this! Post upon post! There must be some thing in the
wind!" said my lord, as he broke the seal, which was Sir Rowland
Hill's.

"Our pleasant winter here is over," said Bradshawe, with a sigh. "We
will be moving shortly, and t