‘Och! the devil’s in ye, for a liar, Parly-vu. But no matter, I’ll give you a song—a true Irish song, my jewel,’ and he commenced with the ‘Sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green.’ He had got as far as ‘An Irishman all in his glory was there,’ quivering and spinning out the last line of the verse to a prodigious length, when a rap came to the door, and the voice of the sergeant of the picquet, asking if there were any soldiers in the house, put an unpleasant end to his melody. Previous to this, however, Dennis had taken up a spade handle, to represent the shillelah, and it was with difficulty that I prevented him from bringing it down on the sergeant’s head. We were then escorted to the guard-house, for being out after tattoo, which we found so full that we could scarcely get admittance. Dennis cried and sung by turns, until he fell fast asleep. I was so stupified with the drink I had taken, that I scarcely knew how I felt. Next morning, however, we were released along with all the others who had been confined the preceding evening. We had been about three months in Jersey when the order came for our embarkation for Portugal; but only six women to every hundred men were allowed to accompany us. As there were, however, a great many more than that number, it was ordered that they should draw lots, to see who should remain. The women of the company to which I belonged were assembled in the pay-sergeant’s room for that purpose. The men of the company had gathered round them, to see the result, with various degrees of interest depicted in their countenances. The proportionate number of tickets were made with ‘to go’ or ‘not to go’ written on them. They were then placed in a hat, and the women were called by their seniority to draw their tickets. I looked round me before they began. It was an interesting scene. The sergeant stood in the middle with a hat in his hand, the women around him, with their hearts palpitating, and anxiety and suspense in every countenance. Here and there you would see the head of a married man pushed forward, from amongst the crowd, in the attitude of intense anxiety and attention. The first woman called, was the sergeant’s wife—she drew ‘not to go.’ It seemed to give little concern to any one, but herself and her husband. She was not very well liked in the company. The next was a corporal’s wife—she drew ‘to go.’ This was received by all with nearly as much apathy as the first. She was little beloved either.