When I had concluded, the sun had set, and already a grey mist began to form over the course of the Adour. I thought that now it was high time for me to return to Bayonne, and to table d'hôte, which is at 7.30 p.m., but for which I knew I should be late. However, before rising, I pulled out my flask of Scotch whisky, and drained it to the last drop. I had scarcely finished, and was about to heave myself to my feet, when I heard a voice from behind and above me say--"It is grateful, varra grateful to a Scotchman." I turned myself about, and drew back from the wall, for I saw a very remarkable object perched upon it. It was the upper portion of a man in military accoutrements. He was not sitting on the wall, for, if so, his legs would have been dangling over on the outside. And yet he could not have heaved himself up to the level of the parapet, with the legs depending inside, for he appeared to be on the wall itself down to the middle. "Are you a Scotchman or an Englishman?" he inquired. "An Englishman," I replied, hardly knowing what to make of the apparition. "It's mabbe a bit airly in the nicht for me to be stirring," he said; "but the smell of the whisky drew me from my grave." "From your grave!" I exclaimed. "And pray, what is the blend?" he asked. I answered. "Weel," said he, "ye might do better, but it's guid enough. I am Captain Alister McAlister of Auchimachie, at your service, that is to say, his superior half. I fell in one of the attacks on the citadel. Those"--he employed a strong qualification which need not be reproduced--"those Johnny Crapauds used chain-shot; and they cut me in half at the waistbelt, and my legs are in Scotland." Having somewhat recovered from my astonishment, I was able to take a further look at him, and could not restrain a laugh. He so much resembled Humpty Dumpty, who, as I had learned in childhood, did sit on a wall. "Is there anything so rideeculous about me?" asked Captain McAlister in a tone of irritation. "You seem to be in a jocular mood, sir." "I assure you," I responded, "I was only laughing from joy of heart at the happy chance of meeting you, Alister McAlister." "Of Auchimachie, and my title is Captain," he said. "There is only half of me here--the etceteras are in the family vault in Scotland." I expressed my genuine surprise at this announcement. "You must understand, sir," continued he, "that I am but the speeritual presentment of my buried trunk. The speeritual presentment of my nether half is not here, and I should scorn to use those of Captain O'Hooligan." I pressed my hand to my brow. Was I in my right senses? Had the hot sun during the day affected my brain, or had the last drain of whisky upset my reason?