of his head, and _he_ was decidedly the most _outré_-looking man amongst us, and consequently the happiest. I myself had a hankering to be a _Count_, and had I half as much money to spare as time, I should not have been outdone by any man in the army, so I hit upon the expedient of cutting my hat down a couple of inches lower than any one else: _this_ I thought would be better than nothing. Lieutenant Heppenstal, of the 88th Regiment, was nearly falling a sacrifice to the richness of his dress. He belonged to the light troops of our army at the battle of Busaco, and was warmly engaged with the advance of the enemy. He was a man of the most determined bravery and gigantic strength, and more than once became personally engaged with the French riflemen. At one time, carried away by his daring impetuosity, he pursued his success so far as to be nearly mixed with the enemy; a number of Portuguese Caçadores, coming up at this moment, mistook him for a French general officer, and attempted to make him a prisoner; a scuffle ensued, in which he lost the skirts of his frockcoat; and it was not until an explanation took place that he was enabled to join his regiment in this laughable trim—his beautiful gold-tagged frock being converted into a regular spencer. Poor Heppenstal! It was his first appearance under fire, and it was not difficult for those who witnessed his too gallant _début_ to foresee that his career of glory would be short. He carried a rifle, and his unerring aim brought down many a man on the morning I am speaking of; but he did not long survive the praises so justly bestowed on him, and it will soon be my painful duty to record his death. Dress, however, with its attractions, by no means engrossed all our thoughts; some were fond of shooting, and those whose tastes lay that way had plenty of sport, as the country abounded in game; others took to horse-racing, and here was a fine opportunity for the lovers of the turf and of dress to display their knowledge in both. Jockeys, adorned with all colours, were to be seen on the course, and the harlequin-like appearance of these equestrians was far from unpleasing. Some of the races were admirably contested, and afforded us as much gratification as those of Epsom and Doncaster do to the visitants of those receptacles of rank and fashion.