“Oh, dom your limbs,” growled Johnny, in the true Caledonian dialect, with an awful grin, “ye are the rascals to drink and carouse with as ye did yesterday. Eh, look at ’em! dom their eyes, they are sure to hit me!” and away he bolted, ducking his head, his face half averted all the way. Johnny, however, was spherical, and puffed and blowed like a whale, while the French peppered away at him in prime style, the dust rising from the balls in every direction. Johnny however, escaped, with a brace of samples through his knapsack and mess-tin, and rolled over the hedge. Taking advantage of the welcome given to Castles, Gilbert and I, without allowing them to reload, followed, and as the devil would have it, the pair of us arrived as safely. There now only remained our comrade Jones, a good-looking Welshman, who quickly came after us, but he, poor fellow! was met half-way by a shot. After all, the enemy never took the house, for by a reinforcement from the 52nd we beat them back again. I often laugh at the recollection of Johnny Castles, though I must say, I funked dreadfully. Like the frogs in the fable, though death to us, it was sport to the French, who kept roaring with laughter as we bolted by. Castles, after this affair, could never be induced to drink or hold any acquaintance with the enemy. Having remained some four or five months at Arcangues, on the 21st of February, 1814, the army broke up their cantonments, and marched for Toulouse. Our battalion, standing in need of new clothing, did not march with the division, but were ordered into St. Jean de Luz, where we received them. In the course of some time afterwards we rejoined our division. This was after the battle of Orthes had been fought, and which our battalion felt much chagrined in not being present at. On the 18th of March a circumstance occurred at Plaisance, near the town of Tarbes, which I cannot help noticing. A French peasant was shot, under circumstances that fixed the crime upon some of the men of our company. Although the greatest endeavours were made to discover the culprit, and the company punished to make them give him up, still it was without avail. The facts of the case were these. Blanco, the Spaniard, accompanied by one or two of our men, went out this evening in search of wine. They entered the house of a peasant who, resisting the intrusion, struck Blanco, for which the Spaniard instantly shot him on the spot. A very handsome collection was made for the widow and children of the poor peasant, for whose distress a very sincere sympathy was entertained by our battalion. Three months afterwards I was told that Blanco was the perpetrator of this cruel deed.