----- Footnote 37: Fairfield was better known in the army by his Christian name, and was almost invariably called “Sim,” or, as Joe Kelly called him, “Simmy.” He ended very badly, in abject misery caused by his own vices and thriftlessness, without a coat to his back or a roof to his head. ----- It was a rare circumstance to meet two such characters, and our time passed away agreeably in learning those anecdotes which have been told of both. Much has been related of Quill, but Fairfield was immeasurably his superior on some points. In the first place, he sang beautifully, while Maurice could not sing at all; and if Quill possessed that extraordinary humour, which it is so well known he did, poor Simon Fairfield was an overmatch for him as a punster. Our stay in Lisbon was but short, as, in a few days after our arrival, the fleet was in readiness to sail for Portsmouth. But, short as our sojourn was, it was of sufficient length to nearly empty our purses. That sink of profligacy and nest of sharpers, the San Carlos gambling-house, was the constant resort of all the idlers in Lisbon; and, in a few days, I and my friends were completely eased of all our loose cash. But we had one resource left, in the shape of a horse each, which was the same thing as ready money, and we determined to try our luck once more at the gambling table. Accordingly, the horses were sent to the fair, were sold, and brought a “fair” price. Mine fetched one hundred and twenty-five dollars. Those belonging to Hill, D‘Arcy, and Adair, all of my corps, were also disposed of at a “fair” value. Poor “_Fair_”field had no horse or mule. He had an old jackass—his companion for years—which brought to the general fund only fifteen dollars. A sort of council of war was now held as to the line of operations we should follow, and it was unanimously agreed that D‘Arcy, being a good judge of the game, should be the purse-bearer, and play according to his own judgment to any amount he might think proper, for the profit or loss of the entire party. Matters were so far arranged, and we were ready and panting with anxiety to have another trial with the bankers of the San Carlos tables, when Hill, a young man of sound sense, hinted that, to prevent any mistake, and not to leave all on the “hazard of the die,” we should deposit a certain number of dollars each for the purchase of our sea-stock. This hint was so replete with _rationality_ that we all acquiesced, and fifteen dollars “_par tête_” was regularly pouched by Hill, who was understood to be our caterer. He laid in a capital stock of wine, brandy, fowls, and meat—and, so far, all went on right. The wine and brandy he purchased from the far-famed Signor Cavizoli; but, if he paid high for them, they were of excellent quality.