“See here, boys--watch how I’ll scatter the staff--Beg your pardon, General, hope I haven’t hurt you. Turn about--fair play--I have taught _you_ to take up a position now.” I need scarcely say there was one whose person was sacred from all such attacks. He was well mounted upon a strong, half-breed horse; rode always foremost, following the hounds with the same steady pertinacity with which he would have followed the enemy, his compressed lip rarely opening for a laugh when even the most ludicrous misadventure was enacting before him; and when by chance he would give way, the short ha! ha! was over in a moment, and the cold, stern features were as fixed and impassive as before. All the excitement, all the enthusiasm of a hunting-field, seemed powerless to turn his mind from the pre-occupation which the mighty interests he presided over, exacted. I remember once an incident which, however trivial in itself, is worth recording as illustrative of what I mean. We were going along at a topping pace, the hounds, a few fields in advance, were hidden from our view by a small beech copse. The party consisted of not more than six persons, one of whom was Lord Wellington himself. Our run had been a splendid one, and as we were pursuing the fox to earth, every man of us pushed his horse to his full stride in the hot enthusiasm of such a moment. “This way, my lord, this way,” said Colonel Conyers, an old Melton man, who led the way. “The hounds are in the valley; keep to the left.” As no reply was made, after a few moments’ pause Conyers repeated his admonition, “You are wrong, my lord, the hounds are hunting yonder.” “I know it!” was the brief answer given, with a shortness that almost savored of asperity; for a second or two not a word was spoken. “How far is Niza, Gordon?” inquired Lord Wellington. “About five leagues, my lord,” replied the astonished aide-de-camp. “That’s the direction, is it not?” “Yes, my lord.” “Let’s go over and inspect the wounded.” No more was said, and before a second was given for consideration, away went his lordship, followed by his aide-de-camp, his pace the same stretching gallop, and apparently feeling as much excitement, as he dashed onwards towards the hospital, as though following in all the headlong enthusiasm of a fox chase. Thus passed our summer; a life of happy ease and recreation succeeding to the harassing fatigues and severe privations of the preceding campaign. Such are the lights and shadows of a soldier’s life; such the checkered surface of his fortunes. Constituting, by their very change, that buoyant temperament, that happy indifference, which enables him to derive its full enjoyment from each passing incident of his career.