of all this must be clear to any military man: it had but one object, and one only—the keeping up a gentlemanly and social feeling amongst the corps; and when, as has been seen, such feelings did exist, will any man give credit to the calumnies that have been attempted to be fastened upon the “Connaught Rangers” by the biographer of the late Sir Thomas Picton? Sir John Keane was to dine with the regiment on St. Patrick’s day. Even at this early period I was their caterer, although in a far different way from that in which I am now employed: then I catered for their stomachs—their _faim_; now I cater for their honour—their _fame_! At an early hour on the 15th of March, mounted on a good mule, with fifty dollars in my pocket, I left my regiment on the route to the city of Vizeu, with a _carte blanche_ to do the best I could in the purchase of provisions. I was followed by my man Dan, who had for his assistant, or coadjutor, as he styled him, my batman, Jack Green, as handy a “boy” as ever “listed” in the ranks of the “Connaught Rangers.” The mule they took charge of was little inferior to the one I rode, but their pace was of necessity slower, as he was encumbered not only with a pair of panniers, destined to carry the prog for our St. Patrick’s dinner, but also with the weight of Dan and Jack, who arranged themselves in the best manner they could astride his back. Vizeu is five leagues from Leomil, but, as I knew the country tolerably well, I struck out of the high road, and, crossing the mountains, reached the town some hours before my servants. Vizeu is a good town, one of the best in Portugal, and the shops are abundantly supplied with such commodities as would suit the taste of a general buyer. Brazil sugar, nearly as white as snow, green tea at a cheap price, cloths of every description, and a rich assortment of Braganza shawls, so much prized in England, were severally named to us as we passed the different shops; but Dan, who was, or at least made himself, spokesman on the occasion, shrugged up his shoulders and replied to each, “No, señor, me no care the chocolate, nor the suggera, nor the shawla; me care the peché.” We soon reached the market-place. There I found an abundance of what I most wished for—fish. I purchased a number of fine mullet, some hens and fowls, and a variety of other matters which I thought requisite to garnish our table the following day, and I despatched my two trusty servants on their route some hours before I departed myself.