The second battalion of the Fusiliers are quartered at Melante, and we are next them.

Bring any of yours worth their liquor.

Power is, I know, absent with the staff; perhaps the Scotch doctor would come; try him.

Carry over a little mustard with you, if there be such in your parts.
Yours, D.O'SHAUGHNESSY.
Patrick's day, and raining like blazes.
Seeing that the bearer expected an answer, I scrawled the words, "I'm there," with my pencil on the back of the note, and again turned myself round to sleep.

My slumbers were, however, soon interrupted once more; for the bugles of the light infantry and the hoarse trumpet of the cavalry sounded the call, and I found to my surprise that, though halted, we were by no means destined to a day of idleness.