laugh and song pass gaily round, and even at this distance I can
distinguish the elegant form of Ramon Cabrera, as he whispers gay
nothings in the ears of the Andalusian girls, or joins in the
thrilling chorus of Riego's hymn, which is ever and anon
vociferated by the enthusiastic soldiery of Carlos Quinto. I am
alone, in the most inaccessible and most bomb-proof tower of our
little fortalice; the large casements are open--the wind, as it
enters, whispers in my ear its odorous recollections of the orange
grove and the myrtle bower. My torch (a branch of the fragrant
cedar-tree) flares and flickers in the midnight breeze, and
disperses its scent and burning splinters on my scroll and the desk
where I write--meet implements for a soldier's authorship!--it is
CARTRIDGE paper over which my pen runs so glibly, and a yawning
barrel of gunpowder forms my rough writing-table. Around me, below
me, above me, all--all is peace! I think, as I sit here so lonely,
on my country, England! and muse over the sweet and bitter
recollections of my early days! Let me resume my narrative, at the
point where (interrupted by the authoritative summons of war) I
paused on the last occasion.

I left off, I think--(for I am a thousand miles away from proof-
sheets as I write, and, were I not writing the simple TRUTH, must
contradict myself a thousand times in the course of my tale)--I
think, I say, that I left off at that period of my story, when,
Holkar being before Futtyghur, and I in command of that fortress, I
had just been compelled to make away with his messenger: and,
dressed in the fallen Indian's accoutrements, went forth to
reconnoitre the force, and, if possible, to learn the intentions of
the enemy. However much my figure might have resembled that of the
Pitan, and, disguised in his armour, might have deceived the lynx-