However astonished I had been at the warmth, by which I was treated in London, I was still less prepared for the enthusiasm which greeted me in every town through which I pa.s.sed. There was not a village where we stopped to change horses whose inhabitants did not simultaneously pour forth to welcome me with every demonstration of delight. That the fact of four horses and a yellow chaise should have elicited such testimonies of satisfaction, was somewhat difficult to conceive; and even had the important news that I was the bearer of despatches been telegraphed from London by successive postboys, still the extraordinary excitement was unaccountable. It was only on reaching Bristol that I learned to what circ.u.mstance my popularity was owing. My friend Mike, in humble imitation of election practices, had posted a large placard on the back of the chaise, announcing, in letters of portentous length, something like the following:--

"b.l.o.o.d.y news! Fall of Ciudad Rodrigo! Five thousand prisoners and two hundred pieces of cannon taken!"

This veracious and satisfactory statement, aided by Mike's personal exertions, and an unwearied performance on the trumpet he had taken from the French dragoon, had roused the population of every hamlet, and made our journey from London to Bristol one scene of uproar, noise, and confusion.

All my attempts to suppress Mike's oratory or music were perfectly unavailing. In fact, he had pledged my health so many times during the day; he had drunk so many toasts to the success of the British arms, so many to the English nation, so many in honor of Ireland, and so many in honor of Mickey Free himself,--that all respect for my authority was lost in his enthusiasm for my greatness, and his shouts became wilder, and the blasts from the trumpet more fearful and incoherent; and finally, on the last stage of our journey, having exhausted as it were every tribute of his lungs, he seemed (if I were to judge by the evidence of my ears) to be performing something very like a hornpipe on the roof of the chaise.

Happily for me there is a limit to all human efforts, and even _his_ powers at length succ.u.mbed; so that, when we arrived at Bristol, I persuaded him to go to bed, and I once more was left to the enjoyment of some quiet. To fill up the few hours which intervened before bedtime, I strolled into the coffee room. The English look of every one, and everything around, had still its charm for me; and I contemplated, with no small admiration, that air of neatness and propriety so observant from the bright-faced clock that ticked unwearily upon the mantelpiece, to the trim waiter himself, with noiseless step and a mixed look of vigilance and vacancy. The perfect stillness struck me, save when a deep voice called for "another brandy-and-water," and some more modestly-toned request would utter a desire for "more cream." The attention of each man, absorbed in the folds of his voluminous newspaper, scarcely deigning a glance at the new-comer who entered, was in keeping with the general surroundings,--giving, in their solemnity and gravity, a character of almost religious seriousness, to what, in any other land, would be a scene of riotous and discordant tumult. I was watching all this with a more than common interest, when the door opened, and the waiter entered with a large placard. He was followed by another with a ladder, by whose a.s.sistance he succeeded in attaching the large square of paper to the wall above the fireplace. Every one about rose up, curious to ascertain what was going forward; and I myself joined in the crowd around the fire. The first glance of the announcement showed me what it meant; and it was with a strange mixture of shame and confusion I read:--

"_Fall of Ciudad Rodrigo: with a full and detailed account of the storming of the great breach, capture of the enemy's cannon, etc., by Michael Free, 14th Light Dragoons_."

Leaving the many around me busied in conjecturing who the aforesaid Mr.

Free might be, and what peculiar opportunities he might have enjoyed for his report, I hurried from the room and called the waiter.

"What's the meaning of the announcement you've just put up in the coffee-room? Where did it come from?"

"Most important news, sir; exclusively in the columns of the '_Bristol Telegraph_,'--the gentleman has just arrived--"

"Who, pray? What gentleman?"

"Mr. Free, sir, No. 13--large bed-room--blue damask--supper for two--oysters--a devil--brandy-and-water-mulled port."

"What the devil do you mean? Is the fellow at supper?"

Somewhat shocked by the tone I ventured to a.s.sume towards the ill.u.s.trious narrator, the waiter merely bowed his reply.

"Show me to his room," said I; "I should like to see him."

"Follow me, if you please, sir,--this way. What name shall I say, sir?"

"You need not mind announcing me,--I'm an old acquaintance,--just show me the room."

"I beg pardon, sir, but Mr. Meekins, the editor of the '_Telegraph_,' is engaged with him at present; and positive orders are given not to suffer any interruption."

"No matter; do as I bid you. Is that it? Oh, I hear his voice. There, that will do. You may go down-stairs, I'll introduce myself."

[Ill.u.s.tration: CAPTAIN MICKEY FREE RELATING HIS HEROIC DEEDS.]

So saying, and slipping a crown into the waiter's hand, I proceeded cautiously towards the door, and opened it stealthily. My caution was, however, needless; for a large screen was drawn across this part of the room, completely concealing the door, closing which behind me, I took my place beneath the shelter of this ambuscade, determined on no account to be perceived by the parties.

Seated in a large arm-chair, a smoking tumbler of mulled port before him, sat my friend Mike, dressed in my full regimentals, even to the helmet, which, unfortunately however for the effect, he had put on back foremost; a short "dudeen" graced his lip, and the trumpet so frequently alluded to lay near him.

Opposite him sat a short, puny, round-faced little gentleman with rolling eyes and a turned up nose. Numerous sheets of paper, pens, etc., lay scattered about; and he evinced, by his air and gesture, the most marked and eager attention to Mr. Free's narrative, whose frequent interruptions, caused by the drink and the oysters, were viewed with no small impatience by the anxious editor.

"You must remember, Captain, time's pa.s.sing; the placards are all out. Must be at press before one o'clock to-night,--the morning edition is everything with us. You were at the first parallel, I think."

"Devil a one o' me knows. Just ring that bell near you. Them's elegant oysters; and you're not taking your drop of liquor. Here's a toast for you: 'May--' Whoop! raal Carlingford's, upon my conscience! See now, if I won't hit the little black chap up there the first shot."

Scarcely were the words spoken, when a little painted bust of Shakespeare fell in fragments on the floor, as an oyster-sh.e.l.l laid him low.

A faint effort at a laugh at the eccentricities of his friend was all the poor editor could accomplish, while Mike's triumph knew no bounds.

"Didn't I tell you? But come now, are you ready? Give the pen a drink, if you won't take one yourself."

"I am ready, quite ready," responded the editor.

"Faith, and it's more nor I am. See now, here it is: The night was murthering dark; you could not see a stim."

"Not see a--a what?"

"A stim, bad luck to you; don't you know English? Hand me the hot water.

Have you that down yet?"

"Yes. Pray proceed."

"The Fifth Division was orthered up, bekase they were fighting chaps; the Eighty-eighth was among them; the Rangers--Oh, upon my soul, we must drink the Rangers! Here, devil a one o' me will go on till we give them all the honors--Hip!--begin."

"Hip!" sighed the luckless editor, as he rose from his chair, obedient to the command.

"Hurra! hurra! hurra! Well done! There's stuff in you yet, ould foolscap!

The little bottle's empty; ring again, if ye plaze.

'Oh, Father Magan Was a beautiful man, But a bit of a rogue, a bit of a rogue!

He was just six feet high, Had a cast in his eye, And an illigint brogue, an illigint brogue!

'He was born in Killarney, And reared up in blarney--'

"Arrah, don't be looking miserable and dissolute that way. Sure, I'm only s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g myself up for you; besides, you can print the song av you like.

It's a sweet tune, 'Teddy, you Gander,'"

"Really, Mr. Free, I see no prospect of our ever getting done."

"The saints in Heaven forbid!" interrupted Mike, piously; "the evening's young, and drink plenty. Here now, make ready!"

The editor once more made a gesture of preparation.

"Well, as I was saying," resumed Mike, "it was pitch dark when the columns moved up, and a cold, raw night, with a little thin rain falling. Have you that down?"

"Yes. Pray go on."

"Well, just as it might be here, at the corner of the trench, I met Dr.

Quill. 'They're waiting for you, Mr. Free,' says he, 'down there. Picton's asking for you.' 'Faith, and he must wait,' says I, 'for I'm terrible dry.' With that, he pulled out his canteen and mixed me a little brandy-and-water. 'Are you taking it without a toast?' says Doctor Maurice.

'Never fear,' says I; 'here's Mary Brady--'"

"But, my dear sir," interposed Mr. Meekins, "pray _do_ remember this is somewhat irrelevant. In fifteen minutes it will be twelve o'clock."

"I know it, ould boy, I know it. I see what you're at. You were going to observe how much better we'd be for a broiled bone."

"Nothing of the kind, I a.s.sure you. For Heaven's sake, no more eating and drinking!"