In St.
Andrew Square, I remember vaguely hearing some one call out.

I paid no heed, but pressed on blindly.

A moment after, a hand fell heavily on my shoulder, and I thought I had fainted.

Certainly the world went black about me for some seconds; and when that spasm passed I found myself standing face to face with the 'cheerful extravagant,' in what sort of disarray I really dare not imagine, dead white at least, shaking like an aspen, and mowing at the man with speechless lips.

And this was the soldier of Napoleon, and the gentleman who intended going next night to an Assembly Ball! I am the more particular in telling of my breakdown, because it was my only experience of the sort; and it is a good tale for officers.