For all these kind inquiries the Captain expressed his gratitude, and added, “I have really nothing to ask for, unless you could send me to England.” “Ah! if you were able to move, Captain, I could exchange you now; but by the time you will have gained strength to travel you will be at the disposal of the Major-General of the army.” That visit gave much comfort and hope. In the evening de la Platière and Simon returned with the news that Sir Arthur Wellesley had met with disasters. “Taisez-vous, mon cher,” said Simon. “It may have a bad effect on his spirits.” But he insisted on hearing all they knew, and while they were talking a French soldier walked calmly up into the room, and coming up to the foot of the bed, stood before his officers, astounded, petrified. When, after sternly eyeing him a while, they sharply demanded his business, his faculties returned, and he stammered out: “Mon Capitaine, I--I--I took it for a shop! I beg pardon.” And off he went in a hurry. But what would he have done if he had found the English officer alone? On October 1 Captain Boothby was allowed to go out on crutches. He says: “The sense of attracting general observation hurried me. The French soldiers who met me expressed surprise at seeing the success of an amputation which in the hands of their field surgeons was nearly always fatal. The Spaniards were most sympathizing. ‘What a pity!’ ‘So young, too!’ ‘Poor young Englishman!’ were pathetically passed along the street as he hobbled by.” In July, 1810, Captain Boothby was exchanged with a French prisoner and returned to his father and mother in England. This gives us the kindlier side of war; but there is another side. In the prison of Toro were some French soldiers kept by the Spaniards. Nothing could be worse than the cruelty under which these Frenchmen suffered. In their prison was a cell, with a window strongly barred, and covered by an iron shutter pierced with small holes. The dungeon was about 10 feet square and 5 feet high. At the furthest end was a block of stone for a seat, with an iron collar for the neck, fixed by a short chain in the wall. Another chain was passed round the body. The poor wretches were chained in one position all day, which often hurried them to a miserable death. Their food was a little bread and water. It is easy, however, to bear any amount of suffering when you know the time will soon come when you will be free. It is not so easy to bear a whole lifelong penalty for having dared to fight for one’s country. One would think that a national gratitude would rescue our wounded soldiers from a life of beggary or the workhouse. Yet after every war how many one-armed and one-legged soldiers or sailors are pitifully begging along our streets and roads! There is no animal so cruel as man. _Corruptio optimi pessima._ From a “Prisoner of France,” by Captain Boothby. By kind permission of Messrs. A. and C. Black and Miss Boothby. CHAPTER IV