uent triumphs in the boudoir. "It is a singular fact, and
I look upon it as a degrading one," says Mr Grattan with diverting
seriousness, "that the French officers, whilst at Madrid, made in the
ratio of five to one more conquests than we did." The dignity of the
admission might be questioned; the degree of degradation is matter of
opinion; the singularity is explained away by Mr Grattan himself. He
blames his comrades for their stiff, unbending manners, and for their
non-conformance to the customs of the country. They were nearly three
months at Madrid, and yet he declares that, at the end of that time,
they knew little more of the inhabitants than of the citizens of Pekin.
And he opines that the impression left in Spain by the Peninsular army
was rather one of respect for their courage, than of admiration of their
social graces and general affability. If Mr Grattan, whilst reposing at
ease upon his well-earned bays, would devise and promulgate an antidote
to the mixture of shyness, reserve, and hauteur, which renders
Englishmen, wherever they travel, the least popular of the European
family, he would have a claim on his country's gratitude stronger even
than the one he established whilst defending her with his sword in the
well-contested fields of the Peninsula. Notwithstanding, however, the
unamiability with which he reproaches his companions in arms, there was
much fun and feasting, and sauntering in the Prado, and bull-fighting
and theatre-going, whilst the British were at Madrid. But it was too
pleasant to last long. The best a soldier can expect in war-time, is an
alternation of good quarters and severe hardship. The "_quart-d'heure de
Rabelais_" was at hand, when all the dancing, drinking, masking, and
other pleasant things should be paid for, and the brief enjoyment
forgotten, amidst the sufferings of the most painful retreat--excepting,
of course, that of Corunna--effected by a British army during the whole
war. We refer to the retrograde movement that followed the unsuccessful
siege of Burgos.

The high reputation of the British soldier rests far more upon his arms
than upon his legs; in other words, he is a fighting rather than a
marching man. Slowness of movement, in the field as on the route, is the
fault that has most frequently been imputed to him. One thing is pretty
generally admitted; that, to work well, he must be well fed. And even
then he will hardly get over the ground as rapidly, or endure fatigue