Still we had little reason to complain, for we were under the command of a general who did not think it below him to look into the men’s rights and interests, and anticipate their wants. It was not an uncommon thing, in a very wet morning, to find him up at our camp, ordering an extra ration of rum to be served out to the brigade. There were also double tents provided for us; as, in consequence of the heavy rains, the single ones were found insufficient; and on every occasion he paid the most indefatigable attention to our comfort. In him was found a rare combination of the rigid disciplinarian and the _soldier’s friend_. He discharged his own duty faithfully and well; and he expected every one under him to do the same, and would admit of no excuse for the non-performance of it from either officer or soldier. To those who served under his command, in that place, it will be unnecessary to say that the officer to whom I allude, is Lieutenant-General the Hon. Sir William Stewart. His name will be associated in their minds with the character of a gallant and able officer, and a steady friend to the soldier. We generally turned out for the working party at five o’clock in the morning; and our breakfast, which was coffee with bread, was always ready at that hour. I remember, the first time we had it, each man came forward with his mess-tin for his allowance, which was measured out by the cook. We had a Highlandman in the company, who had enlisted raw from his native hills, and who, I believe, had never seen anything of the kind before. When he came for his allowance of the coffee, which was now nearly done, the cook was skimming it off the top very carefully, to avoid stirring up the grounds. Donald, who thought this a scheme to keep all the good part to himself, exclaimed, ‘Tam your plod! will you’ll no gie some o’ the sik as well as the sin?’ ‘Oh, certainly,’ said the cook, (who was a bit of a wag,) and stirring the grounds well up, he gave him a double proportion. Donald came in, chuckling with satisfaction at having detected the knavery of the cook, saying, ‘If she’ll socht to sheat a Highlandman, she’ll be far mistook;’ and seeing the rest of his comrades breaking bread in their coffee, he did the same: by this time the eye of every one in the tent was on him, scarcely able to refrain from laughing. Donald began to sup it with his spoon; but after taking two or three spoonfuls, grinding the coffee grounds between his teeth, and making wry faces, he threw the tin, contents and all, out of the tent door, exclaiming, ‘Tam their coffee! you might as weel chow heather, and drink pog water as that teevil’s stuff. Gi’e Donal a cog o’ brochan before ony o’ your tea or coffees either.’