Our poor fellows, when they got their money, in the joy of their hearts, played such fooleries as could challenge comparison with any ship’s crew that ever came into port. It would be an endless task to portray every extravagance they ran into; all joined, however, in a greater or less degree, in paying their addresses to the whisky; each heart then became unveiled, and a very common observer could have told the ruling passion of each individual in the regiment. Some showed their devotion to the fair sex, by hauling in every female with whom they had the slightest acquaintance, and treating them to gowns, caps, or anything they chose to ask. Others gratified their ambitious longings by hiring horses, coaches, gigs, or jaunting cars, and riding into the country or about the town. Dennis and I were in the throng, no doubt, and on receiving our cash sallied forth in quest of adventures. Dennis could not brook the idea of entering a common public-house on that day. ‘We have not long to act the gentleman,’ said he, ‘we may as well make a good use of our time;’ so saying, he led the way to the head inn, and with the utmost pomp bawled out ‘waiter!’—The waiter made his appearance.—‘Bring us a bottle of wine.’—The waiter smiled, and looked as if he thought him mad.—‘Go along, sir, and do as I order you,’ said Dennis; ‘you stare, you spalpeen, as if you never saw a gentleman before.’ The waiter made his escape, and having consulted with his master, brought the wine. We had scarcely seated ourselves when two of our officers entered,—the one was a good fellow, generous, brave, and feeling; the other was the reverse. ‘Mr G.,’ said Dennis, addressing the former, ‘will you be kind enough to drink with us?’ ‘Certainly, my good fellow, it is not the first time you and I have drank together; I do not forget the time you gave me the last drop out of your canteen, on that long day’s march going up through Spain, when every one was dying with thirst, and no water to be had.’ Having drank to our health, and the glasses replenished, Dennis took up one,—‘Long life to you, Mr G., you are a noble, brave officer, and I could shed my heart’s blood for you by night or by day; I wish I could say as much for many a one in the corps,’ casting a significant look at the other officer. I whispered to Dennis, ‘You had better ask him to drink.’ ‘Devil a sup,’ said he, loud enough to be heard. Mr J. felt galled to the soul, and colouring with rage he walked out of the room, accompanied by the other officer, who seemed to take no notice of what Dennis had said. ‘You were too rude,’ said I; ‘you provoke the man to be your enemy.’