The corporal, it was clear, wishing to shield the men, had come to my billet, intending the information for my ears only. But finding Mr Chesterfield with me, and not being at the time in the absolute possession of his faculties, (for, though quite unconscious of the fact, he was himself partially under the influence of liquor,) he had no resource but to tell out all, though not by any means one of those petty officers “as likes to get poor fellers into trouble.” Beastly intoxication? What! at this early hour of the day? It was a strange circumstance, and excited ugly apprehensions. How could they have become so? Who made them drunk? Under other circumstances, I should have applied to the corporal for an explanation forthwith; but I saw indications, in the corporal’s eye, that it would not be kind to question him at the moment before an officer—so proposed, instead, that we should go and look for ourselves. We went. The case was much as Fraser had stated it. We reached a large old house with a _porte cochère_, within which was a court. On entering this court we found the men—happily the infantry only, for the cavalry had quarters just by—all, with one exception, more or less in a state of intoxication. Some were laughing; others were wrangling; one or two were crying—maudlin drunk. Some were making a show of cleaning arms and accoutrements, with profound bows and sagacious nods. All tried, on our arrival, to look as sober as they could. On any morning this would have been a serious state of things, at the hour of mustering to start; but now, when we expected hostility, it was worse than ever. Neither did I like the look of the inhabitants. There was no exact throng, indeed; but parties were standing near in groups, evidently cognisant of our present fix, watching, and making their remarks among themselves. In that old house, guarded by those drunken soldiers, were sixty mule-loads of silver and gold! Things looked still worse, though, when we entered the quarters. Three or four men, who were most overcome, had deliberately laid themselves down again for a snooze. There they were, wrapped up in their blankets, stretched and snoring on the floor; while Corporal Fraser, himself a little “disguised,” flushed in the face, and in a high state of indignation and excitement, was storming and kicking them up; and a fellow, who found it easier to lean against the wainscot than to stand upright, was expostulating—“You haven’t no business to kick a poor soger in that ’ere way.”