The first consequence of this disappointment was, that they were obliged to remain five weeks longer before they could get another vessel, owing to the unfavourable winds which set in a few days after they lost their passage. Their disappointment was rendered still more galling by news from Lisbon, that the ship in which they were to have sailed had arrived in the Tagus on the sixth day after she left Portsmouth. The further consequences I will now describe. After many visits to the Transport-Agents' office, and much grumbling from the little _official_ himself, the Subalterns received an order for a passage in a very fine ship, and were soon on board. Here they found the cabin occupied only by a lieutenant of dragoons, who commanded a detachment of his regiment, also on board with their horses. This lieutenant, who acted so prominent a part in the _rough passage_, is worthy of an outline. He was a subaltern of four or five years standing, but had yet known no more of service than the barrack parade and a good mess-dinner were capable of affording. He was the son of a rich London tradesman—a legitimate child of Cockaigne; and as powerfully impressed with the peculiarities of that distinguished land as any of his countrymen. He could point out every feature of metropolitan amusement, from half-price at _Common_-Garden, to the Panorama in Leicester-Square—could repeat the biography of all Mr. Pidcock's menagerial subjects, together with those of the Tower—understood the Sunday park-ride, and knew to a fraction the charges of all respectable horse-hirers in London—could discuss a plate of a-la-mode at the Three Cantons, or ticket his way to a Guildhall dinner—was well acquainted with Gog and Magog, and could criticize a peal of triple bob-majors with any citizen within the sound of Bow-bells. From his face, (although full twenty-seven years old,) one could tell that his taste had begun upon lolly-pops, improved in raspberry-puffs, and ultimately expanded in the sugary bosom of a twelfth-cake. He was married withal; and had but just tasted the sweets of his honey-moon, when he was ordered to embark for Portugal. This last circumstance had imparted to his countenance a strong tinge of melancholy, calculated to remind the beholder of Liston, in the part of Romeo; indeed the sudden retreat of his chin and forehead, from the centre of the facial line, made him infinitely more interesting than even that performer could ever have been in his most sentimental characters. He had a purse pretty well filled with guineas, purchased at twenty-five shillings each, and a good stock of little luxuries for a sea-table; therefore was he civil and good-natured, as your true and genuine _cockaignee_ (vulgarly spelt cockney) always is, when amongst strangers out of his own land.