A large company was assembled in the parlour, which was heavy with clouds of tobacco smoke, and brightly lighted up by a roaring fire of coal.

Hard by the chimney stood a vacant chair in what I thought an enviable situation, whether for warmth or the pleasure of society; and I was about to take it, when the nearest of the company stopped me with his hand.
'Beg thy pardon, sir,' said he; 'but that there chair belongs to a British soldier.' A chorus of voices enforced and explained.

It was one of Lord Wellington's heroes.

He had been wounded under Rowland Hill.

He was Colbourne's right-hand man.