The general of the brigade was quartered in the same village; and as he had, or seemed to have, a great antipathy to every thing Scottish, our regiment of course was included, and he found means to annoy us a good deal. Perhaps, he believed, with many people in England, that the Scots run wild about their native hills, eating raw oats like horses, with nothing but a kilt to cover their nakedness, and that they had no right to receive any other treatment, when they entered the army, than what is usually given to any wild animal when caged. ‘Rousing up with a long pole’ seemed to be his hobby. When exercising in the field, our regiment could do nothing right. When our guard turned out to salute him, they were either too late, or they did not present arms properly; and he would order the sergeant to drill them for an hour; while he stood by and gave vent to the harsh epithets which he was in the habit of using on those occasions, ‘Scottish savages—stupid—barbarous,’ &c. I have often been led to think that he studied expletives on purpose. He pretended that he could not understand a word that any of us said—that we spoke Gælic; and his aid-de-camp was called to interpret, although he had no right to understand what was said better than himself, for I believe he was also an Englishman. As a sample—he once took a fancy to the wooden cases which the Portuguese use instead of stirrup irons, and ordered his Scottish servant to get a pair for him; for although he disliked the Scots, he employed them as his servants. The man procured them; but they were not fellows. ‘Well, sir,’ said the general, ‘have you got those things?’ ‘Yes, sir, but they are no marrows.’ ‘Marrows! marrows! what’s that? what’s that?’ and calling his aid-de-camp, he asked him what ‘the Scottish savage’ said. ‘He means, sir, that they are not fellows.’ ‘Poh! poh! you surely do not pretend to understand what is no language.’ ‘That is his meaning in his own language, sir.’ ‘Nonsense, sir, you are as bad as he; go and read your dictionary.’ He was very strict in duty affairs, particularly in details, which perhaps another general would not have troubled his head about. He was very fond of surprising the sentinels at the outposts, by taking circuitous routes, and keeping under cover of the bushes. On one occasion, however, he met his match, if the story reported was true: but as I only had it from report, I will not pledge myself for its truth. One of the men on picquet was planted as outpost sentry on the road leading to Rio Mayor. ‘Now, George,’ said the corporal to him, as he was leaving him, ‘mind that the general is out in front, keep a good look out, or he may surprise you, and you know the consequence. Be sure you challenge in time.’ ‘Leave that to me,’ said Geordie.