After a hearty draught from the borachio-skin, many were the questions asked and answers given about home and absent friends; and Ronald’s account of his rencontres and adventures with Cifuentes, certainly did not impress Louis Lisle with a very high opinion of the state of society and civilization generally in Spain. "This must be a strange country," observed he, "when fellows can rove about plundering and rieving, as Rob Roy and the Serjeant Mhor used to do in our grandfathers’ days. And the villains from whom you have suffered so much are still lurking in that dark forest of cork trees?" "Yes; their fastness is in the heart of it. If the rules of the service sanctioned such a proceeding, I would with this party of ours surround the wood, hunt out the rascals from their lair, and put every one of them to death." "But Lord Wellington—" "Would make it a general court-martial affair. But there is a time for every thing, and this Spanish robber and I may meet again." "Spain appears a wretched country to campaign in?" "Truly it is so." "I liked Lisbon pretty well; and found much amusement in frequenting the assembly-room, the Italian opera-house, the theatre, and circus for the bull-fights." "Faith! I saw none of these things, Louis; my purse is scarcely so deep as yours. And the public promenades, you visited them doubtless?" "The trees and shrubbery are beautifully arranged; but I cannot admire the ladies of Lisbon, they are so little, so meagre and tawny." "You will like Spain better. Hand me the pigskin, if you please." "I have not been very favourably impressed by what I have seen of it. The roads on our route are all but impassable,—mere sheep-tracks in some places; and the posadas are the most wretched to be imagined." "Rather different from the snug ’Old George’ at Perth, with its portly landlord, bowing waiters, and smiling hostess." "Rather so; and tiresome indeed I found the march thus far,—the towns in ruins, and between them immense desert tracts, where neither a house, a human being, nor a vestige of cultivation was to be seen." "But it was a useless order to march your detachment thus far to the westward, when the division is retreating. You could have joined at Portalagre." "I am aware of it; but to march and join the regiment without delay were the orders given me by the commandant at Portalagre. By my route, this day’s march should have ended at Merida; but a muleteer, to my no small surprise, informed us of its being in possession of the French; and having no one to consult, I felt at a loss how to act, and halted here." "’Twas rash of the surly old commandant to send so young and inexperienced an officer in charge of a detachment through a foreign country; but those fellows on the staff, who skulk in the rear, have never the true interest of the service at heart." "And Sir Rowland Hill is retiring on the Portuguese frontier?"