“No; we buried the body, but took off the head and brought it to Hobart Town, where it was exhibited to the crowd--and no wondering wild beast ever excited more curiosity. We found in his haversack a sort of book made of kangaroo skin, and his dreams written in it with kangaroo blood. There was also a memorandum of what seeds and plants he wanted, in case he established a secure residence for himself in the wild country.” * * * * * “By George! he was the most extraordinary fellow, except _Three Fingered Jack_, that ever I heard of,” said Dobson. “Oh, he was the broth of a boy!” observed the Corporal.--“And have you lived long in Ireland?” “Ever since my return from Van Diemen’s Land--that may be about fifteen years. I told you that I was born in this country, but left it very young: however, when I returned I found my only relations were a niece and her daughter; so I took them to keep my cabin for me--where we live, thank God, very comfortably.” “What’s your grand-niece’s name?” demanded Jack Andrews.-- At this moment the officer of the rounds challenged, and the guard turned out. The night was now clear--the weather calm--so Old Worral took his parting drop from the Corporal, and trudged on towards his cabin. As the regiment to which the guard belonged was to march at daylight, having the day before received orders to proceed to Plymouth, and there embark for Portugal, little was talked about in the guard-house after the old man went away, but the parting with acquaintances, and the forthcoming campaign in that country where they had so long toiled. At half-past five they marched from Ballycraggen guard-house to the main street in the little town, where the regiment was already forming, and the baggage packed on fifteen or twenty cars--all pressed the day before for this service. The route had arrived very unexpectedly, owing to the invasion of Portugal by the rebel chief, the Marquis de Chaves, and the consequent energy and decision of Mr. Canning in sending out assistance to that country; on this account no regiment relieved that stationed at Ballycraggen, and the guard-house was now deserted; the old oak chair in which the sergeant of the guard usually sat, and the wooden forms, were removed--nothing remained to inform the accidental visitor of the cottage, that it once was a military occupation, but the names of sundry soldiers, and the description of their _rank_, delineated on the wall by a burnt stick.