Chapter III: Part 3

Not far from the drawing-room door runs off one of the many long corridors of the mansion, and then at the end is the Closed Chamber. It has never been opened since the year 1718, when the young lady, one of the daughters of the house, that used to sleep in it, lost her lover who had been out for the "right cause," and lost his head for his loyalty to a dethroned sovereign; and she, poor girl, walked into the great fish-pond one night, and was found in the tangled weeds by the old gardener next morning. The squire of that day, her disconsolate father, had the pond immediately drained off, and it is now one of the prettiest flower parterres of the garden: but the lady's elm is still pointed out at one end--a shattered withered trunk--'twas under it the poor thing's body lay. And now at nightfall, and in the depth of the night itself, long-drawn sighs and the rustling of stiff silk may be heard along the passage and by her room-door, while within,--but no one knows nor even talks of what is within,--all that is really known is, that once in the autumn, 'tis now fifty years ago, when the old housekeeper was alive, on a peculiarly still night, while the master was away up in London, and no one but two or three servants left in the gloomy mansion, the door of the chamber burst open with a loud noise, and such a crash was heard within, followed by an unearthly shriek, that the people in the servants' hall below nearly went out of their minds through fright. Next morning, when the gardener had called in the village constable and the smith, and all three had mounted the stairs and had come to the mysterious door, they found within a wainscoted room a worm-eaten bed of ancient form, all in a heap on the floor; one of the windows was broken in, the cobwebs were blowing about in the wind that whistled through the apartment; over the chimney-piece was a portrait, so black that it could be hardly made out, only they could see that it had once shown the lineaments of a young and a female face: but there was nothing, absolutely nothing to indicate the cause, of the disturbance during the night. It is true that the smith, as he was going out, picked up a ribbon near the chimney, which he maliciously declared he knew to be Betty the housemaid's garter, but nothing more ever came of it, so the window was mended, the shutters were closed, and the door has ever since been fastened up with stout coffin screws. There's not a servant that would go to the end of that passage at night and listen with her ear at the keyhole, (though they all say they would not mind doing it at any other door in the house) no, not for a twelvemonth's extra wages.

We have slept in many a chamber of that goodly and hospitable mansion: there was the bachelor's room, a nice little square apartment, about twice as high as it was broad, all panelled in oak, which, however, some Goth of a squire had painted light blue; with a fireplace that would let not only the bachelor, but eke the bachelor's better half, creep inside on a winter's night; and with a curious kind of a bed, not higher from the ground than your knee, but with thin light posts spiring up some dozen of feet aloft, and supporting a superfluity of green damask, enough to make a tent with. In the panel over the fireplace was an apology for a looking-glass, once deemed no doubt an uncommonly correct thing, all cut in facettes and diamonds at the sides and diversified with bouquets of flowers tied by true-lovers' knots in the middle. 'Twas no doubt a bridal gift to some fair lady in the time of King Charles, and then might have gloried in a frame of gold; but now its glories are departed, and, for us at least, it served no higher purpose than to display the horrors of our bristly chin. There's no position in the world more comfortable for a bedroom mirror than over the fireplace; shaving can there be conducted with science and with gusto. And every other panel opened by some wonderful kind of fastening, into a cupboard big enough to stow away more habiliments than ever in our bachelor days we were likely to possess. A quaint little goggle-eyed commode, tortured into fanciful elegance, filled up one corner of the room; and a nondescript _table de toilette_ occupied the other. Here, in a three-cornered arm-chair, the senior piece of furniture in the whole room, have we watched over the flickering ashes of the wood-fed fire for hours; and often when we had shaken hands with our worthy host at ten, have we prolonged our vigil till early morn, amused with the acute ribaldry of _Tom Jones_, or lost in the intricate wit of _Tristram Shandy_. The wintry blasts would make the old casement rattle, but we only gave the flaming log another turn,--crack! crack! would go the wood, over went another leaf of the book, and so we continued till taper and eyelid alike failed us.

The Yellow Room was also a capital place to take up your quarters in for the night; there was very pretty sleeping in that vasty bed, where some four might snore side by side, and yet never doubt but that they were each sole occupant of the couch. But it was somewhat melancholy to turn in there by yourself; your taper, though it burned as bright as wax could make it, served to illumine only a small portion of the middle space, while in each corner of the apartment was a mass of black nonentity, of darkness visible, that might make you superstitious and ghostlike. It was something like going to bed in Westminster Hall, and from the fireplace to the bedside, when in the last stage of dishabille, was quite a journey. But there was such a host of arm-chairs with soft downy cushions, such a bevy of footstools, such a goodly couple of ottomans, such a preponderating wardrobe, and such ample splashing-room on the marble surface of the toilette, that here you could expatiate in the morning, and could walk in and out and round the chairs and tables and footstools and ottomans, and back again, for a mile or two before breakfast, simply while dressing. Here were some famous pictures of Cupids and Venuses, and a view of the park-gates, and a drawing of the alcove at the end of the long walk, and an enormous sampler that must have taken two or three years to work, with B. W. A.D. 1732, ending the series of devices. Here, too, were some portly bottles of arquebusade, and elder-flower water always kept over the mantel-piece, and a set of steps, like a small flight of stairs, to mount up into bed by; but the books on the shelves were of a staid and approved description,--Dryden's _Virgil_, _The Spectator_, and _The Whole Duty of Man_, keeping in countenance the sober black-letter Bible and Common Prayer, that held their accustomed station by the bedside. This was the chamber where the neighbouring squires and their dames, when they "crossed the country in a carriage and four," coming some five-and-twenty miles to dinner, used to be lodged for the night. It had once been the nuptial chamber of our worthy host, but he has long since betaken himself to a quieter and less expansive berth.

Up above, and on the higher storey of the house, runs a long gallery, from one end right to the other--like the corridor of a barrack--with bedroom doors opening into it on either side at frequent intervals. Here are lodged the young ladies and gentlemen of the family; the governess and the tutor. The nursery is at one extremity, and the ladies' working-room at the other. The gallery is thickly matted all the way along; and on its walls are hung all those productions of the arts which are not judged of sufficient excellence to be admitted down stairs. There is an enormous map of the estate, and a bird's-eye view of the house, and the first flower-piece by aunt Mary, when she was a little girl at school in Bath, and Mr Henry's black spaniel stuffed, under a glass case. Here, on a wet day, the children can take their wonted exercise, and have even a game at cricket if necessary; here the lady's-maid and nurse-maid sit in the afternoon and work; here, any one who is a very particular friend of the family is allowed to come up and "see the children;" here you may have a swing or a romp according as you are inclined; and here, you cannot but confess, that you have found out one of the most useful and comfortable features of the whole edifice,--an in-door promenade, a domestic gymnasium.

We have been admitted into every room in the house, big and little, up stairs and down stairs. We know the quaint little smoking parlour that was, now turned into the squire's "office," or justice-room. Here he meets his steward and sits at a desk like any dirty cotton lord in his factory; here he keeps his guns and fishing rods; and here, on a small set of shelves, are his books--"Burn's Justice," and "Taplin's Farriery;" here one of his dogs is sure to be lying before the fire, and some aged tenant or other is ever coming in to ask for some little favour or other, which the kind landlord seldom refuses; here he determines what fields shall be put down in turnips this year, and what vagabonds shall be put in the stocks; in short it is the sacrarium of the house,--the place where the _primum mobile_ of the whole is stationed; and, in our eyes, one of the snuggest and most useful appendages of the mansion.

Leading out from this room is a door that you might suppose would conduct you into a closet--but no; it opens on a flight of steps, down which you descend a little, and then find yourself at the edge of an opening that looks like a well. This was part of the ancient manor-house, or castle, which was destroyed in one of the Border feuds, when the Welch and English, in the time of Owen Glyndwr, used to give each other rather warm reception. It then formed the dungeon or prison, which each chieftain of the march country had within his residence, and where he could detain refractory tenants or unpleasant neighbours. The worthy squire has now turned it into his Madeira cellar, and keeps in it a hogshead of the most particular East India that ever left the island and crossed the Line. He has it under his own special lock and key; tastes it only now and then, and threatens to keep it in the cask till his son comes of age.

The real cellars themselves are goodly things to see; none of your cramped up wee bits of things that they build now-a-days, but where, besides the usual stock of beer and strong ale, for the general run of the house and neighbourhood, there is left room enough for stowing away a hogshead brewed on the birth of each child of the family, and destined to remain there till they each attain their one-and-twentieth year. They are fourteen in number, and bear the names of those in whose honour they were filled; there, then, is Master Thomas and Miss Lucy, and Miss Susan and Master William; and so on, through the whole of the rising generation. As for the wine-cellar, 'tis an unfathomable recess; there is port and claret in it enough for the whole county; and the fountain in the court might be made to run sherry for a week before the stock would be exhausted. A pile of champagne-cases stands at one end, and some dozen bins of the extra particulars are built up by themselves. It would do good to the heart of any man to wander about these cellars for a morning.

And it is not far to the church--just beyond the outer garden-hedge where you cross the deep ha-ha, made to keep rabbits and cattle out, and close to the clump of birch-trees that rise on the hill,--an ancient edifice, with a bit of architecture of every period that English antiquaries can boast of. The tower "ivy-mantled," according to the most approved rule; the peal of bells thoroughly harmonious, and allowing triple-bob-majors to be rung on them with the full swing of the lustiest youths of the village. In the chancel is a formidable-looking pew, put up in Charles's time, all in black oak, with quaint figures of angels and dragons, and fantastic flowers, sprawling over every vacant space. Within, it is right comfortably carpeted and cushioned; in the midst is a stove to keep out the cool humours of the church, and to comfort the squire's lady on a Christmas morning; while round the walls of the little chapel, which the pew fills, are all the family monuments, from the stiff-necked and stiff-ruffed knight of the days of the virgin Queen, down to the full-bottomed wig and portentous bands of the judge in the time of George II. A little plain white marble slab in one corner bears the simple inscription,--

MARIA.

1820.

But at this I have often observed that the good lady of the house never looks; and once, during the sermon, I saw the squire, while listlessly gazing upon it, allow the tears to glide down his cheeks as though he was a child.

There's a summer-house at the end of the nut walk, so hidden by bushes and winding paths, that it is hard to find the entrance,--a low squat-looking kind of a place, built in the Dutch fashion, with four windows, one in each side, and with a dome on the top; it stands close by a pond, and is all grown over with ivy. Indeed, when you arrive at the door, you have to remove the clematis and damask rose twigs with your hand, ere you can obtain an entrance. On the walls are numerous names commemorated both with pencil and knife; and in particular, under a true lover's knot, are deeply cut the letters M and H. It is a standing joke at the squire's table between himself and the amiable hostess--but I never could get to the bottom of it--only if any of the children or the company should by any chance make even the most distant allusion to their having been near the summer-house during the day, the squire immediately calls out, "Let me have a glass of that port!--Mary, my love, do you remember the summer-house?"--to which the invariable reply is,--"Henry, dear, I thought you had been more sensible: you must not, indeed!" However, the gardens are truly delightful,--full of rich parterres, and clumps of flowering shrubs; with trim-cut walks of yew and beech, over which the various kinds of the pine tribe and the cedar of Libanus rear their heads in sombre luxuriance. You may walk, I forget how many miles, in the garden, without going over the same ground twice in the same direction; but the gardener is apt to exaggerate on this head. There is enough variety to occupy the most fastidious for an afternoon, and beauty enough to occupy the lover of nature for a week.

Time passes happily and swiftly in a home like this; rides and field-sports, and public business, take up the mornings of the gentlemen; the fine arts, the interchange of neighbouring courtesies, and the visiting of the village give occupation to the ladies. Hospitality, and the sweetest display of domestic elegance, shed an indescribable charm over the cheerful evenings passed in their society,--the family are the honour and main stay of the parish, and, indeed, of many an adjoining one; while the house and grounds are the pride and boast of all that side of the county.

EVENINGS AT SEA.--NO. III.

THE ship's surgeon was a favourite with us all, he was a pale sickly little man, of some five or six-and-thirty years of age, with lank yellow hair, and very little of it, even such as it was. He was so quiet and unassuming, that he rarely joined in the conversation, but he listened with great attention, even to the dullest among the narrators, and whenever any thing pathetic was brought forward, a misty twinkling was sure to be visible in the tender-hearted little doctor's small green eyes. The qualities of his head were unfortunately not equal to those of his heart; every effort he had made to establish himself in a practice had failed; in these attempts he had consumed the pittance of his inheritance, and he was now obliged to obtain a living in the not very lucrative or agreeable situation of surgeon to a sailing packet. As he seldom spoke on any subject, and scarcely ever of himself, it was some time before we discovered, that, in the pursuit of professional advancement, he had for a short period given his services to the unfortunate British Legion, during the late civil war in Spain. With great difficulty we persuaded the modest little man to give us the benefit of some of his recollections, while an actor in those scenes of stirring and melancholy interest. He commenced timidly, but warmed with his theme as it continued, and although somewhat discursive and unconnected in his narrative, he did not fail to interest his hearers. Thus he spoke.

THE SURGEON.

My father had been a medical officer in the East India Company's service, but died while I was still very young. My mother was left with me and two sisters, many years older than myself, to provide for, out of her widow's pension, and a small sum of money her husband had saved during his stay in India. We took up our abode in an humble but neat house, not far from London, and as soon as I was of sufficient age, I was set to work to prepare myself for my late father's branch of the service, as inexpensively as possible.

My progress was not very rapid, although I was by no means an idle boy; indeed, on the contrary, I did my very utmost to get on, as the best way to reward my poor mother for the strict economy that enabled me to be kept at school. On account of my steady ways, the other boys often teased me, and laughed at me a good deal, but being convinced that I was doing what was right, I bore it as I best could.

However, on one occasion I did give way to bad temper; on returning to school after the vacation, I was about to unpack my little trunk, and arrange its contents, in the chest of drawers, when one of the boys who used to annoy me most came into the room. He saw that my clothes were not very new, though they were as well brushed and as tidily packed as if they had been better; and my linen was, perhaps, a little coarse, but then my mother had mended it all very neatly, and had it washed as white as snow before I left home. He teased me about having such "poor things," as he called them, and threw some dirty water upon them. This made me very angry, but when he laughed at the careful way my mother had packed them, my passion got the better of me, and I tried to put him out of the room. I was but a weak boy, however, and he was a strong one, so he beat me till I was not able to stir, and then threw all my neat clothes out over the floor and stamped upon them. This made a great impression on me at the time; I do not think I shall ever altogether forget it, but I am very proud to feel that I soon forgave it, and the day came some years after when I had the power to do this boy a great kindness; I gladly did what I could for him, but he proved himself altogether ungrateful for it.

In due time I left school, and entered upon the study of medicine; it was necessary for me to work hard for my final examination, not being as I before said, naturally very quick in learning. When the time came I was so frightened and anxious, that I could scarcely answer a word, and although, perhaps, better prepared than some of those who passed, I was turned back. My poor mother was much grieved at this, but tried to cheer me on to better success next time. I was also greatly discouraged; nevertheless I sat down patiently to begin my studies over again, and at last succeeded in getting my certificates.

My next step was to place over our door a board, bearing my name in gilt letters, with "Surgeon" under it, and a hand with a finger pointing round the corner to the little side door where the patients were to enter. I also put an advertisement in a newspaper, and told those among the neighbours with whom we were acquainted that I had now started in business. Being of a hopeful disposition, I expected that every day some lucky chance would occur to bring me at once into great practice; as I had often read and heard of this having happened with other people. But a long time passed away, and no sudden occasion arrived where my help was called for; except, indeed, one frosty morning when a poor old man slipped on the pavement close by our house, and broke his arm. Seeing "Surgeon" over my door, some people carried the sufferer there, and as I was in waiting, left him in my charge. I took great pains with this my first case, but was very nervous about it, feeling sure that all eyes were upon me; besides, the poor old man told me that, if the use of his arm were not soon restored to him, he should be driven to go to the workhouse. He could not move that day, so I made up a sort of bed for him in the surgery; the following evening his son came for him, and took him away. I had no money to give him, but seeing that his shoes were very bad, I let him have a pair of mine, that were not quite worn out; he then went his way, after having thanked me heartily. I pitied the poor old man very much, and would have been glad to have heard that he had done well; besides, there was my professional vanity interested in the business; it so happened, however, that I never heard any thing more of my patient.

At last, I began to fear that my gilt sign-board, advertisement and all, had fairly failed; no one called for me. I was very unhappy to be such a burden to my mother, instead of helping her on, as I had hoped to do; but she never complained of this; she knew I would willingly work if I had the opportunity, and--as she said, "I could not make the people break their arms."

While thinking over my affairs, one January morning, at the door of the surgery, a young man passed by, whose face appeared familiar: he first looked at me, then at the sign-board, and at once claimed acquaintance as an old school-fellow. I invited him in, and we sat down together; he asked me if I was getting on well, and had many patients. I told him no, but did not omit to say that some months before I had set an old man's arm with great skill. As we talked on, however, it came out that, in spite of my old man's arm, I was in very low estate, and willing to undertake any honest labour, to get my bread, and help my mother. After a little thought, he asked me if I should like to be a military surgeon. I supposed he was bantering me as they used to do at school, for I had no great friends to get me such promotion; but he seemed serious, and said, "I think I can get you a commission as surgeon in the army, that is, in General Evans' army in Spain." I had not heard or read of that General at the time, for I never saw newspapers, except the old one, in which my advertisement was printed. I was, however, rejoiced to hear of this opening, and when my old school-fellow left me, promising to let me know in a day or two as to what he could do for me, I went straight to my mother to tell her of my good fortune. She, good soul! did nothing but cry all the evening, and try to dissuade me from going; but I had made up my mind, come what might, to be a burthen upon her no longer. I did not tell her this as a reason, for it would have had no weight with her; but I dwelt very much upon the great advantage it would certainly be to me, and how getting such an appointment would be the high road to my fortune. In short, if she was not convinced, she at least saw there was no use in opposing me, so she reluctantly consented. In a short time my friend came to inform me that I had been appointed a supernumerary assistant surgeon upon the staff of the British Legion, then at San Sebastian; that a steamer was to sail from Greenwich in a few days, to carry out stores, and some recruits to the army, and that I was to take medical charge of the latter. My friend was also to go in the same vessel. I was very busy till I sailed in selling whatever I could part with, getting my outfit, and above all, in trying to comfort my mother and sisters. I provided myself with a Spanish grammar, that while on the voyage I might lose no time in learning the language of the country where I was going. At length the day of parting came; I shall say nothing about that; indeed, I have said a great deal too much of myself already, but I wanted to show how I came to be in Spain. For the future I shall speak more of other people.

The men on board the steamer were a very turbulent and evil disposed set, apparently the dregs of the population; most of them were Londoners, probably well-known to the police. There was one among them, seemingly a broken down gentleman, the most desperate character I ever met. He struck his officer soon after we started, and vowed he would throw him overboard, for refusing to allow more brandy; but for this he was cruelly flogged, and as he was of a tender constitution, he remained under my care all the rest of the voyage.

We arrived at San Sebastian on the forenoon of the sixth day after our departure. The climate had changed rapidly since we left England behind us. On this morning the sun was shining cheerily, and the air genial as in our May. The harbour is a wondrously beautiful sight. Two high rocks rise boldly out of the sea; the little bay lies, crescent-shaped, between them, its waters deep blue, the sandy shore a golden yellow. The country beyond, for some distance, is undulating, of a rich verdure, saddened and beautified by ruined convents and villages. Next come the Pyrenees, clothed with dark-oak forests nearly to their summits; their crests huge rocks strangely shaped. Those great mountains are thrown together confusedly; you might think they were the waves of some stormy sea suddenly turned into stone. Many among them are of a great size; far as the eye can reach rises peak over peak, bluer and fainter in the distance, the outline more irregular and indistinct, till at last the blue of earth and the blue of heaven are one. The rugged little island of Santa Clara is midway between the rocky points of the crescent-harbour; it lies to the right hand as we enter the shallow and dangerous waters. On the headland beyond stands a lighthouse, now turned into a fortress. We could see in the distance little dark figures moving about this tower like mites on a cheese, and swarming up to the top, probably to look at us. "Those are Carlists," said my friend. How I strained my eyes to see them! Real, living enemies--men pledged to slay us with shot and steel--in fight or in calm vengeance! But we have left our homes and come over the sea to slay them! A few days, and we shall meet once, we who have never met before--some of us not to part again, but to lie down in a long sleep close together, perhaps to cross each other's path no more in this wide world. Away, among those blue mountains, mothers are sadly thinking of their soldier sons, the little moving specks before us, perhaps almost as sadly as mine thinks of me. That sun warms us and our foes alike; and, from far beyond, He who bade men to "love one another," looks down with sorrowing pity on us both. I spoke some of these thoughts to my schoolfellow; they did not please him much; so he told me that I was only a doctor, and knew nothing about glory. I had then no more to say.

The town of San Sebastian lay on our left hand, walled and bastioned in with jealous care. A sandy peninsula connects it with the land; a huge rock, crowned with an embattled citadel, shelters it from the sea. This was the first time I had ever seen a strange country, but I have been much about the world since then, and have not seen so foreign a looking place any where else, or any fairer sight than on that January morning. Three large war-steamers lay as near the quays as the depth of water would allow; some thousand of Spanish troops were disembarking from them in dozens of boats and barges, each regiment, as it was completed, throwing themselves into a long line upon the beach, while their magnificent bands cheered them, after their weary voyage, with hymns of liberty. Then, in a little time, they marched away to the undulating green hills, to take up their stations among some of the ruined villages within the lines. Thousands of the town's people, in bright gay dresses, welcomed their landing with loud cries of joy; hundreds of banners waved over the throng, and from a distant hill, where the red coats of the legion caught the eye, the English cannon thundered a salute.

My schoolfellow and I were soon ashore; and, after some little delay, found our billets in two rooms next each other, looking out upon the great square. Then we went forth again to see the town. Oh such strange sights! such tall, gloomy Gothic churches, and such gaudy French shops! such bright eyes and such glossy hair! Oh the long black veils, in folds of wondrous grace, and the proud neck, and tiny feet, and stately step! And sullen men, wrapped in dark heavy cloaks, and gay dragoons, and plumed aides-de-camp, and plaided Highlanders, and sombre riflemen, and nuns and priests, sailors and muleteers, soldiers with crutches, bandaged heads, and pale faces, and hardy peasants with scarlet cap and sash, and Biscayan girls with ruddy checks and long fair hair hanging in plaits over their falling shoulders. We could scarce win our way through this vast masquerade--our eyes confused by bright and varied colours, and our ears by martial music, distant firing, rattling of hoofs and wheels, and the ceaseless clamour of Babel voices. Now a string of fifty mules would trot past us, with their jingling bells and gay caparisons; then a half-naked crowd of drunken legionaries burst through the throng with frantic cries and gestures; again a battalion of Spanish grenadiers, clothed in dark gray coats, with measured step and glittering bayonets, press up the narrow streets.

Soon after nightfall all was still in the town; the loiterers had gone to their homes, the soldiers were recalled to their barracks, the shops and markets were deserted. Few cared to pace the streets when unprotected by the light of day, for the thirst for gold and blood was strong among the fierce men brought here in those evil days; and the turbulent legionaries at times did frightful outrage in their drunken fury. My friend and I dined at a small inn, and about ten o'clock at night bent our steps towards the billets. As we went our way, we suddenly saw a bright flame shoot up from behind a street at some distance, and, urged by curiosity, hastened to the place whence it arose. We found a large wooden stable on fire. Many noble English horses, belonging to the officers of the Legion were in the building; some of the soldiers, the grooms and their families, occupied the loft above. The mischief had but just begun; some straw was blazing at the door; on it was lying a drunken soldier with a pipe in his mouth, probably the cause of the fire. Though he must have been somewhat scorched, he seemed to regard the whole matter with stupid indifference. My friend rushed at him and shook him vigorously, calling out, "You are on fire--the city is on fire." The drunken man barely winked his eyes, and tried to go to sleep again, mumbling--"City! city! what do I care for this city or any other city--barrin' the city of Cork." However, we dragged him away, and put out the fire, already consuming his clothes, in a wet gutter, where he went to sleep again more at his ease, as soon as he had ceased abusing us for disturbing him.

Meanwhile crowds of people assembled, uselessly swarming about the burning stables, and embarrassing those really at work. The blaze spread rapidly, and in a very short time the roof took fire. All the horses, and, as we thought, all the people had been got out of the building, so we stood looking on in indifference, when a poor Irishwoman, apparently in a transport of despair, rushed through the throng, and cried, "Oh my child! my poor child!"

"Where--where?" shouted a dozen eager voices.

"Oh God help me! up in the loft, to be sure. Oh good gentlemen! save my child!"

It was a fearful risk--the wooden beams were blazing fiercely, smoke and even flame burst out of the upper windows now and then; one end of the building already tottered under the fiery storm, but the woman's shriek sounded louder in my brave friend's ear than the roar of the furious flame. His stout English heart was a ready prompter. In a moment he seized a ladder, placed it against an open window, ran up rapidly, and plunged into the smoke and flame, while a cheer of admiration burst from the crowd below. There was a minute of terrible suspense; he was seeking the lost child in vain. Again he rushes to the window, half-suffocated with the smoke--"Where was the child?" he cried; "I cannot find it." My heart sank within me as I thought of the mother's despair; but she seemed less desperate than before, and, running under the window, cried--"Sorra a child I have at all, your honour; but since you _are_ up there, will you just throw me down the bit of a mattrass that's in the corner, for it's all I have in the world."

My friend sprang out of the window and slipped down the ladder. He was just in time; the next moment, with a tremendous crash, the main props gave way, and the whole, building fell into a heap of blazing ruins. Now I only tell you this long story, to show what quaint, wild creatures where those Irish that General Evans took with him to Spain.

In the room next to mine a young Spanish cadet, belonging to the 2d light infantry, was billeted. He was about fourteen years of age, the son of a grandee of Spain. As his family was great and powerful, it was only necessary for him to go through the form of joining the army on service, when a commission in the royal guard would be given him. We soon made acquaintance. He was amused by my odd attempts to speak Spanish, and I was charmed with him. He was a rarely beautiful boy; his, regular features, long curling hair, small hands and feet, would have given him the appearance of effeminacy, but for the vigorous activity of his movements, and his bright bold eye. The best blood of Old Castile flowed in his veins and mantled in his cheek. The little cadet was most dainty in his dress; his uniform was the smartest, his plume the gayest, his boots the brightest, his gold lace the freshest in his regiment. His cap, epaulettes, and sword made expressly for him very small and light, in proportion to his size; and a beautiful black Andalusian pony to match, completed his equipments.

He rode out with me one day--that is, he rode, and I walked, soon after we became known to each other. Our way lay through the principal street of the town; the tall, white, solid-looking houses on each side had balconies for every window, some of them filled with gay groups of Spanish ladies, honouring us with their notice, as we passed. When we approached a large handsome dwelling, with huge gates opening into a court-yard, the black pony began to show symptoms of excitement, and by the time we got directly opposite, he was dancing about a great rate. The little animal was evidently accustomed at this place to such hints of the spur and rein as would make him display his paces to the greatest advantage. A tall, noble-looking woman and a graceful girl leant over the railing of the balcony, and kissed their hands to the cadet as he rode up. He answered by taking, off his gay cap and making a low bow, while the pony pranced more than ever. "Come, Doctor," said the youth to me, "You must know Dolòres and Pepìta." He threw his bridle-rein to a boy, and before I could recover from my surprise, had hurried me up stairs, and into the presence of his fair friends.

They were, sisters--Dolòres ten years older than Pepìta; both much alike, except in the stamp of years, so deep and unsparing in that sunny land. Their hair and eyes were black, glossy, and bright; their complexion deep olive; their teeth of dazzling whiteness; and there was something about the head and neck that made me, in spite of myself, think of swans and empresses. With what stately grace they welcomed us--with what a soft rich accent they spoke, telling us to "live a thousand years!" The little cadet declared that he was "at their feet;" but I suppose this was only a Spanish compliment, for instead of placing himself there, he kissed Pepìta's hand, sat down beside her, and began talking with perfect familiarity. Dolòres said something to me, but I could not understand it; and being dreadfully confused, I went to the balcony, and looked up the street. The young girl and the little cadet had a great deal to say to each other; they chattered and laughed merrily; then at times Pepìta would try to look grave, and, with a solemn face, lecture the beautiful boy, shaking her fan threateningly at him, when they would laugh more than ever.

At last I saw them looking at me, and heard him say that I was a doctor. Pepìta seemed struck with a sudden thought at this, and rose up, beckoning to him and me to follow. She led us across the court-yard into a long, passage; a large heavy door was at the end. She pointed to it, and said something to my companion in a pitying voice; then, instantly resuming her gaiety, pulled off the cadet's cap, threw it at him, and ran off, laughing merrily. At the end of the passage she turned, kissed her little white hand, and we saw no more of her.

"I do love Pepìta," said the boy; "I must win a ribbon in the battle, and then she will be so proud of her playfellow."

We opened the door and entered.

Near an open window lay an emaciated man upon a small camp bed. The fair complexion and blue eye bespoke him an Englishman. His face was covered with a bushy beard; his checks were hollow, his features pinched and sharpened. Pillows supported his head and shoulders; his arms lay helplessly on the outside of the bed, worn and thin; but the large joints, broad bony hand, and square-built shoulders, showed how powerful had been the frame that now lay wrecked before us. He raised his dull sunken eyes, as if by an effort, as we entered, and when he observed me, something like a smile of recognition passed over his wan face. I knew him at once, though he was strangely altered; he it was who, when a boy at school, had done me the insulting wrong. The blood rushed red to my face for a moment; but when I thought how pale and faint he was, it went back again, to my heart I suppose, for my pity yearned towards the poor sufferer.

He told me in a few words, slowly and painfully, that he had been wounded in a skirmish some weeks before, and afterwards attacked with typhus fever. His servant had that morning deserted, carrying off the little money he possessed, and every thing of value in the room. He was on unfriendly terms with all his brother officers, had quarrelled with the regimental doctor, and was now utterly destitute and helpless. The Spanish family, in whose house he was billeted, were very kind to him, particularly the two sisters; but they were in great poverty from these troublous times, and had sickness also among themselves.

With some difficulty I got my billet changed to a room adjoining his; my servant was then able to help the sick man: as I had still a little money left, I procured the necessary medicines, and such nourishment as I thought he might safely bear. During the day my duties in the hospital pretty well occupied me, but at night I was always able to sit up for some time with him, and be of a little service. As you may suppose, I did not see the less of my young friend, the cadet, by this change; he had so often to come to ask after the invalid for Pepìta's information, that at length he began to take an interest himself, and during the crisis of the complaint, at a time when I was forced to be absent on my duties, he, with Pepìta's assistance, took my place as a watcher, and they actually remained for hours without speaking a word lest they should waken the sick sleeper. However, I have no doubt they made amends for it afterwards. The sisters soon became very kind to me for my gay little friend's sake; they joined him in teaching me their beautiful language, and though I was very stupid about it, I could not but make good progress under such kind teachers. The younger sister used to laugh at me and tease me very much, but I could not help liking her more and more; so the time passed rapidly away, and day by day the fair Spanish girl and her boy lover wound themselves closer round my heart, till they became dear to me as if they had been my children.

A tall, sallow, down looking Spaniard was a frequent visiter at the house of these two sisters: he was a man of considerable wealth, the son of a Cadiz merchant, and at this time captain of the carbineers--the company of "élite," in the second light infantry. The cadet and I both took a great dislike to this man, which he seemed heartily to return; there was a treacherous villanous expression in his averted eye that at once attracted observation, and something inexpressibly repulsive in his manner, servile and overbearing by turns. He appeared to possess some unaccountable influence over Pepìta's father, for, though it was evident that his attentions and repeated visits were disagreeable to the young lady, every opportunity was given him of improving her acquaintance. This system was, however, as unsuccessful as it usually is; and the sallow captain's conversation was not the less distasteful from being obediently endured. The fact was, that large pecuniary assistance given to the family, unknown to its younger members, was the secret of the influence now exercised, through their parents, over their inclinations and tastes. The captain had become acquainted with Pepìta, been attracted by her, and had made this obligation the means of forcing himself upon her society. He next tried to cause the prohibition of my little friend's visits; not indeed that he looked upon the boy in the light of a rival, but as a constraint upon his actions, and an interruption to his plans. Upon this point, however, Pepìta proved unmanageable; and as there could be no fair ostensible objection to her little playfellow's intimacy, it still continued in spite of his sullen enemy.

In the mean time my patient was rapidly recovering; with his returning strength, I grieve to say, the natural evil of his disposition again displayed itself. He borrowed yet another small sum from my scanty store, under the pretence of obtaining some warm clothes to enable him to face the wintry air; but instead of so applying it, he lost most of it at play the first day he was allowed to venture out. The captain of carbineers was the winner, and thus an acquaintance commenced between these men. They were in many respects kindred spirits--rapacious, profligate, and unprincipled,--and soon contracted a close alliance, offensive and defensive: the wealth and cunning of the one, and the recklessness and ferocious courage of the other, made their partnership most dangerous to any who might cross their path. The convalescent, unrestrained for a moment by any feeling of gratitude towards me or my little favourite, at once joined in a scheme against us. They could not venture upon using open violence, as that probably would have defeated its own object, by exciting the sympathies of our kind hosts in our favour, but they agreed to entrap us into play, and thus drive us into such necessities as might place us completely in their power. The Spaniard knew that his chance of gaining Pepìta's favour was but small until her little favourite and guardian was out of the way; and his unworthy associate, as long as money was supplied, was indifferent as to what service might be required of him in return.

In due course of time the day came when the convalescent was pronounced cured, and fit for duty; to celebrate this event the captain of carbineers asked him to an entertainment, and the cadet and myself were also invited. We of course determined not to accept the hospitality of the man we disliked and suspected; but he pressed us very much; the ungrateful Englishman seconded him strongly, urging upon us that he could not enjoy his restored health, if those to whom he owed his recovery refused to join in his gladness. At length we reluctantly consented, and at seven o'clock in the evening all four assembled at the hotel. This was the opportunity fixed upon to carry out the designs against us. I shall not enter into the details of that unlucky evening; they succeeded but too well in their plans. Finding that it was in vain to tempt me to play, they made me drink the health of my late patient, in some drugged liquor I suppose, for soon after I fell into a deep sleep, and when I awoke, found myself alone in the room where we had dined, and the light of the sun streaming in through the windows. It was well on to mid-day.

Several minutes passed before I could recollect where I was, and how I had come there. When I had in some measure collected my scattered thoughts, and shaken off the heavy lethargic feeling that still weighed upon me, I hastened to seek my beloved little companion, anxiously wondering what could have become of him. I learned at the house where he lived that he had returned very late the night before, apparently tired and excited; and that early this morning he had received orders to join a portion of his regiment that was posted on the lines two miles from the town. When my daily duties were ended I walked off to where the cadet had been sent. He seem oppressed and worn out with fatigue and want of rest; I found him lying on a bank beside his tent thinking sadly on Pepìta, his gay dress disordered, his long dark hair damp and neglected, and his eyes red with weeping. I took the poor child by the hand, and tried to comfort him in my best Spanish, but for a long time he would only answer, me with sobs, and at length he sobbed himself to sleep. I wrapped his little cloak round him, and watched patiently till he awoke, after about an hour's refreshing rest: then he found words, and told me all that had occurred to him since I had gone to sleep at the unlucky entertainment.

The host soon pleaded some excuse and left us, when the Englishman immediately proposed play; dice were laid on the table, but the cadet refused for a long time: he had never played in his life, nor felt its horrible temptations. But in his education this maddening vice had not been guarded against; no one had taught him that its beginning, was furious avarice,--its end destruction and despair. He was simply innocent of all knowledge of its pleasures and its woes. The tempter told him that to play was manly, and that if he feared to lose money, he had no spirit. So he played, and lost all he had, and much more. When too tired to go on, he wrote an acknowledgment of what he owed, under the direction of his dangerous associate; and then, very wretched and frightened at what he had done, went home and slept. He would not go, however, till the Englishman promised to see me safely to my billet. I need not add that the promise was not kept. It was about midnight when the cadet went away. My late patient then examined me closely to see that I slept soundly; finding there was but little chance of my interfering with their plans, he quietly shut the door, and left me, hastening to seek his employer and relate his success. A relation of my little friend, residing in the town, had been requested to watch over him, and supply his wants, while remaining at San Sebastian. To this person the captain of carbineers went early the next morning, and by affecting an interest in the boy, as a brother officer, managed to persuade the guardian to request that his ward might be removed at once from the garrison, to save him from the bad company and dissipated habits he had fallen into. The written acknowledgment of the heavy gambling debt, contracted only the night before, was handed in while the accuser was yet speaking, with a demand for payment from an officer of the Legion waiting outside. This appeared proof conclusive. In half an hour the cadet was on his way to the lines, under strict orders not on any account to re-enter the city. Before he left, he had sent in all directions vainly searching for me to advise him in his emergency, and to make some effort to have this cruel and unaccountable sentence reversed.

The first week of March approached its end. From day to day the order to advance into the Carlist country was expected; the city and the surrounding neighbourhood were full of troops, the streets and roads literally blocked up with guns, ammunition waggons, and bullock-carts, passing and repassing for the armament or supply of the different divisions of the army. General officers were observed in frequent consultation with their leader. Aides-de-camp galloped about in all directions. Large buildings were cleared out, and churches prepared as hospitals with grim rows of iron bedsteads ranged along the vaulted aisles. Steamboats buzzed backwards and forward, between the harbour and the neighbouring port of Passages. Deserters came and went. Vague rumours seemed to float in the air. Some great and terrible day was plainly close at hand.