The dinner went off well, the attendance was good, and we were all as happy as any corps could wish to be; but our doctor, O‘Reily, being a little “Bacchi plenus,” mistook the veranda for the door, walked out of it and fell, uninjured, about fifteen feet! The spot in which he happened to fall, fortunately, was a soft one, and he himself, being a little moist, escaped as by a miracle, without any mishap. Next morning I examined the spot, and was struck with astonishment at the exactness of the impression his features had left. Had he sat to have his likeness taken, and undergone the troublesome process of having his face daubed over with paste, it could not have been more perfect, and thus in a second of time, without any trouble to himself, he performed what would have cost him a full half-hour at least, with a great deal of annoyance into the bargain, had he regularly allowed a sculptor to take his bust. He had no doubt taken his wine without measure, and it is clear that the wine, or the effects of it, had taken his “measure,” and made him “measure” his length on the heap of mud upon which he fortunately fell, and it was in this instance “measure for measure.” Major Macgregor, who commanded the 88th up to this period, now left us on leave, and was succeeded in the command by one of the most gentlemanlike officers and best soldiers in the British army—Captain Robert Nickle. Sir John Keane, as I have before said, commanded the brigade, Sir Edward Pakenham the division; and from the period of our arriving at our quarters at Leomil, until our leaving it on our advance towards Vittoria, we had not one single syllable of annoyance with either our Brigadier or Major-General, nor do I believe we had as much as one court-martial in the battalion—and this embraced a period of more than six months. CHAPTER XXVI Ordered home—Priests carousing—San Carlos gambling-house at Lisbon—Cocking the card—The author quits the Peninsula—Adventures on the road—The author’s return to Ireland. To those who have never seen service, or been present with the Peninsular army for a series of years, it would be rather a difficult task to make them comprehend the feelings of an officer upon active service, when ordered home. There are many, no doubt, who would say it was a lucky “turn up”; but there are many, I know, who would have a contrary opinion. Years of hard fighting, fatigues, and privations, that we now wonder at, had, nevertheless, a charm that, in one way or another, bound us together, though it severed some; and, all things considered, I am of opinion that our days in the Peninsula were amongst the happiest of our lives.