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—­A is the enemy, and the dots represent the hundred and twenty pieces of artillery which defended his line.  He was, moreover, intrenched; and a wide morass in his front gave him an additional security.

His Excellency for a moment surveyed the line, and then said, turning round to one of his aides-de-camp, “Order up Major-General Tinkler and the cavalry.”

“Here, does your Excellency mean?” said the aide-de-camp, surprised, for the enemy had perceived us, and the cannon-balls were flying about as thick as peas.

“Here, sir!” said the old General, stamping with his foot in a passion, and the A.D.C. shrugged his shoulders and galloped away.  In five minutes we heard the trumpets in our camp, and in twenty more the greater part of the cavalry had joined us.

Up they came, five thousand men, their standards flapping in the air, their long line of polished jack-boots gleaming in the golden sunlight.  “And now we are here,” said Major-General Sir Theophilus Tinkler, “what next?” “Oh, d—–­ it,” said the Commander-in-Chief, “charge, charge—­nothing like charging—­galloping—­guns—­rascally black scoundrels—­charge, charge!” And then turning round to me (perhaps he was glad to change the conversation), he said, “Lieutenant Gahagan, you will stay with me.”

And well for him I did, for I do not hesitate to say that the battle was gained by me.  I do not mean to insult the reader by pretending that any personal exertions of mine turned the day,—­that I killed, for instance, a regiment of cavalry or swallowed a battery of guns,—­such absurd tales would disgrace both the hearer and the teller.  I, as is well known, never say a single word which cannot be proved, and hate more than all other vices the absurd sin of egotism; I simply mean that my advice to the General, at a quarter past two o’clock in the afternoon of that day, won this great triumph for the British army.

Gleig, Mill, and Thorn have all told the tale of this war, though somehow they have omitted all mention of the hero of it.  General Lake, for the victory of that day, became Lord Lake of Laswaree.  Laswaree! and who, forsooth, was the real conqueror of Laswaree?  I can lay my hand upon my heart and say that I was.  If any proof is wanting of the fact, let me give it at once, and from the highest military testimony in the world—­I mean that of the Emperor Napoleon.

In the month of March, 1817, I was passenger on board the “Prince Regent,” Captain Harris, which touched at St. Helena on its passage from Calcutta to England.  In company with the other officers on board the ship, I paid my respects to the illustrious exile of Longwood, who received us in his garden, where he was walking about, in a nankeen dress and a large broad-brimmed straw-hat, with General Montholon, Count Las Casas, and his son Emanuel, then a little boy; who I dare say does not recollect me, but who nevertheless played with my sword-knot and the tassels of my Hessian boots during the whole of our interview with his Imperial Majesty.