Our fellows, ever alive to the value of good liquor, notwithstanding the French had well ransacked the “wine-houses,” used frequently to find something to reward them for their search in these cellars. Our way of proceeding was to let one or two of our men down the above-mentioned chimneys by means of a rope. I shall never forget the terror I experienced in one of these adventures. Three or four comrades and myself one evening assembled over the chimney of one of these wine-vaults, and it was proposed that one of us should descend to bring up some wine. This was no comfortable task, as the proprietors frequently watched below, and would scarcely hesitate to greet an intruder with his cuchillo or long knife. After some deliberation, and plenty of peeping, it was at last decided that I should take the first chance; a rope accordingly was obtained from one of the muleteers, and being secured round my waist with a number of canteens, which clinked enough to awake almost the dead, I was gradually lowered. The vaults were generally as deep as a three-storied house, and before I got half way down, I was left dangling in the air, the canteens chinkling as if with the intention of hailing a knife the moment I arrived into the lower region; at last I touched the ground. The place was so dark that I could scarcely see a couple of yards before me, and was obliged to grope my way for the vats; at length one of the tins, that formed a kind of breast-work for my approach, came in contact with something, and putting my hand forward, I placed it upon the cold clammy face of a corpse. My whole blood tingled, the canteens responded, and at a glance I perceived, from the red wings (for whether or not, I could see now) that it was a French soldier, exhibiting most frightful gashes, evidently inflicted by the same kind of weapon, which I at every turn, was expecting. The canteens clattered awfully, for I confess I shook with terror, having no weapon to defend myself, and every instant looking for the arm of some concealed assassins, who probably were watching my movements. Afraid to call out, I instantly tugged at the rope (the signal to pull up), an answer from above expressed a doubt of the canteens being filled so soon, and damned my eyes and limbs for me, but this only made me shake the rope more violently, until, to my great satisfaction, I found myself again dangling, and ascending. My comrades seeing me really come forth with hollow tins, and blowing with agitation, burst into roars of laughter. I related my adventure, but this only increased it, until their mirth rallying us all, one, however, more daring than the rest, loaded his rifle, and with an oath, suffered himself to be lowered, and shortly returned, bringing up the canteens filled with excellent wine.