Ah, there's a storm going on there! Here comes the colonel!" "Well, O'Malley, are you come back to us?
Happy to see you, boy! Hope we shall not lose you again in a hurry! We can't spare the scapegraces! There's plenty of skirmishing going on! Crawfurd always asks for the scapegraces for the pickets!" I shook my gallant colonel's hand, while I acknowledged, as best I might, his ambiguous compliment.
"I say, lads," resumed the colonel, "squad your men and form on the road! Lord Wellington's coming down this way to have a look at you! O'Malley, I have General Crawfurd's orders to offer you your old appointment on his staff; without you prefer to remaining with the regiment!" "I can never be sufficiently grateful, sir, to the general: but, in fact--I think--that is, I believe--" "You'd rather be among your own fellows.

Out with it boy! I like you all the better! But come, we mustn't let the general know that; so that I shall forget to tell you all about it.

Eh, isn't that best?
But join your troop now; I hear the staff coming this way." As he spoke, a crowd of horseman were seen advancing towards us at a sharp trot, their waving plumes and gorgeous aiguillettes denoting their rank as generals of division.

In the midst, as they came nearer, I could distinguish one whom once seen there was no forgetting; his plain blue frock and gray trousers, unstrapped beneath his boots, not a little unlike the trim accuracy of costume around him.

As he rode to the head of the leading squadron, the staff fell back and he stood alone before us; for a second there was a dead silence, but the next instant--by what impulse tell who can--one tremendous cheer burst from the entire regiment.