In one of the first smart actions that I ever was in, I was a young officer in command of experienced soldiers, and, therefore, found myself compelled to be an observer rather than an active leader in the scene. We were engaged in a very hot skirmish, and had driven the enemy's light troops for a considerable distance with great rapidity, when we were at length stopped by some of their regiments in line, which opened such a terrific fire within a few yards that it obliged every one to shelter himself as he best could among the inequalities of the ground and the sprinkling of trees which the place afforded. We remained inactive for about ten minutes amidst a shower of balls that seemed to be almost like a hail-storm, and when at the very worst, when it appeared to me to be certain death to quit the cover, a young scampish fellow of the name of Priestly, at the adjoining tree, started out from behind it, saying, "Well! I'll be d----d if I'll be bothered any longer behind a tree, so here's at you," and with that he banged off his rifle in the face of his foes, reloading very deliberately, while every one right and left followed his example, and the enemy, panic struck, took to their heels without firing another shot. The action requires no comment, the individual did not seem to be aware that he had any merit in what he did, but it is nevertheless a valuable example for those who are disposed to study causes and effects in the art of war. In that same action I saw an amusing instance of the ruling passion for sport predominating over a soldier; a rifleman near me was in the act of taking aim at a Frenchman when a hare crossed between them, the muzzle of the rifle mechanically followed the hare in preference, and, as she was doubling into our lines, I had just time to strike up the piece with my sword before he drew the trigger, or he most probably would have shot one of our own people, for he was so intent upon his game that he had lost sight of every thing else. CHAP. VI. Reaping a Horse with a Halter. Reaping golden Opinions out of a Dung-Hill, and reaping a good Story or two out of the next Room. A Dog-Hunt and Sheep's Heads prepared at the Expense of a Dollar each, and a Scotchman's Nose. I have taken so many flights from our line of retreat in search of the fanciful, that I can only bring my readers back to our actual position, by repeating the oft told tale that our army pulled up in the lines of Torres Vedras to await Massena's further pleasure; for, whether he was to persevere in his intended compliment of seeing us on board ship, or we were to return it by seeing him out of Portugal again, was still somewhat doubtful; and, until the point should be decided, we made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and that was pretty well.