In the beginning of February, 1816, we left Paris, and marched to the environs of Cambray; shortly afterwards we were presented with medals sent out by the British government, in commemoration of that celebrated battle; every man who was in the field on the 16th, 17th, and 18th of June, was distinguished with this honourable badge. I am sorry to say this caused many dissensions among the men, particularly some of the old veterans of the Peninsular campaigns. One named Wheatley, as brave a man as any in the service, was unfortunately in hospital at Brussels during the action, and was not honoured with this mark of bravery; whenever he met with badges on what he termed recruits, he would instantly tear them off, and frequently throw them away. For this too often repeated offence, poor Wheatley was tried by a court-martial, and sentenced to three months’ solitary confinement. He was sent to Valenciennes, where the 43rd regiment lay, who formerly belonged to our light division during the Spanish war. The men of that regiment who knew Wheatley, as well as the offence he had committed, not only fed him well during his imprisonment, but at the expiration of his confinement sent him back in all the pomp a hero could wish. He was conveyed in a carriage drawn by four horses, Wheatley’s head as well as those of the postilion and horses, were decorated with blue ribands. On seeing the gay equipage enter the village, we were much surprised, but more so on seeing Wheatley jump from the carriage amidst the loud acclamations of his old companions. Poor Wheatley felt neglected on receiving no medal, and became, from one of the bravest, one of the most dissipated men in the regiment; he was shortly afterwards discharged. My own company was quartered at Mouvres, a pretty little village off the main road that leads to Douay, myself and three privates being billeted on the house of a rich old fellow named Bernard Loude; he was the richest man in the village possessing upwards of three hundred acres of land, his own property, with stables, granary, waggons, and cattle, indeed everything that constitutes a farmer’s stock. The house, like all others in that part of the country, was built long, with only a ground floor. On entering it, I observed three pretty girls spinning; the youngest, about sixteen years of age, was named Leucade; the next, about nineteen, named Augustine; and the eldest, who was not above twenty-four years of age, was named Julie; they were all attractive in appearance.