I instantly brought my body to an acute angle with my inferior extremities, by placing the latter longitudinally on the seat of the box in which I had placed myself, and, elevating my shirt-collar to a parallel line with my nose, ordered the waiter to bring me a bottle of claret. For the half hour I was engaged in drinking it, I continued to gaze at the Gazette, to the no small mortification of several fidgetty gentlemen who were waiting for a sight of it. Yet all I read, and all I could read, was “W****, A****, B***. _Gent. to be Ensign, vice Thompson, killed in action!_” I was just turned of nineteen, a well grown and somewhat precocious lad, generally considered by my father and his friends as a shrewd and well-disposed fellow, who was likely one day or other to cut a figure in the army; but, by my mother and her female côterie, (all above the middle age,) I was set down, _nem. con._, as an arch wild dog, on whom a little military discipline would be by no means thrown away; for I was a second son, and my mother, although affectionate enough, did not evince towards me that strength—or, more properly speaking, that _weakness_—of maternal fondness which she lavished on my elder brother, (her favourite,) who was specially designed for the pulpit by her and her devout advisers. My own opinion of my disposition was about half-way between that of my father and mother. I never, to my knowledge, did much harm, except occasionally hoaxing our parson and apothecary; or operating a few nocturnal exchanges of signs[1] between barbers, pawnbrokers, inn-keepers, and undertakers; or perhaps an occasional shot at a villager's cat. But the best cannot please every body; and even in the case of their own fathers and mothers, young fellows experience different opinions upon their merits. However, this I knew—that I pleased myself: I was backed by an indulgent father, health, spirits, and plenty of money; so, in military phrase, I may say that I was ready primed for mischief, and did not care a doit for the devil. When I had finished my bottle, and tolerably satisfied myself with repeating over and over the terms of my appointment, in a semi-audible tone, I sallied forth. It was a fine evening in the beginning of July 1809, and town was crammed with military men in _mufti_. They had, as it seemed to me, even in plain clothes, an air peculiarly striking; and it excited at once my delight and envy to see them stared at by all; but particularly by the ladies, whose glances, to me, from my earliest age, were always bewitching in the extreme. I burned to mingle in the glory, and to share with my _now_ brother-officers, the smiles of the fair; but my sun-burned drab coat, with broad buttons, together with my slouched hat, white Windsor-cord breeches and top-boots, presented an odious barrier to my hopes and desires. O for a military tailor!—