Another cheer succeeded this discovery; and we were dancing about overjoyed. ‘Who goes for the rations? Get out blankets for the biscuit, and camp kettles for the rum.’ There were soon enough of volunteers for this duty. The mules had by this time got into a sort of defile. Every eye was on the stretch, waiting for their re-appearance. As the first mule emerged from the place where they were hid, every face was dressed in smiles; but the next second produced an effect, similar to that which a criminal might feel, who had been informed of his reprieve on the scaffold, and the next moment told it was a mistake; for it turned out to be mules with ammunition for the division. Never did I witness such a withering effect on men, as this disappointment produced. We stood looking at each other for a minute, in all the agony of hope deferred: the next was opened by a torrent of execration on all concerned. Those who have never experienced extreme hunger can form no idea of our feelings. A day or two after this, we crossed a river and ascended a hill, where we encamped. Dennis and I were for duty, and both placed on the out picquet, which was posted on the face of a hill in front of the division. The French were on the opposite rise, and a small river ran at the foot of it. We had only got one day’s rations from the time the incident mentioned above occurred; and as Dennis expressed it, ‘our bellies were thinking our throats were cut.’ I procured leave from the officer to go to the river for water; intending to proceed a little farther down, to try if I could find anything that I could eat. Turning round the hill, I came to a mill; and entering it, found a number of soldiers belonging to different regiments of the division busy grinding Indian corn; others were employed drawing a baking of bread, which the French had left in their hurry, when we took up our position. I attempted to help myself to some corn, which was lying in a basket. ‘Drop that like a hot potato,’ said one of the Connaught Rangers. I tried another basket, but it was also appropriated; and as there were none of my regiment there, I could not expect to succeed by force; so I left the place sorrowful enough, on my way back to the picquet, with a cargo of cold water—poor cheer, certainly. But just as I turned round the hill, I met my friend Dennis, who had got leave from the officer on some pretence to go down to the river. I told him my melancholy story; he paused for a moment; then clapping his hand to his forehead, he exclaimed, ‘Now I have it! Give me the canteens.’ When I gave them to him, he poured out the water, and slung them over his shoulder. ‘Now, just stand there a minute,’ said he, ‘and I’ll show you a scatter.’