ber of light balls on all sides of the town, and when they found out where there was a large body, a rocket was fired in the direction of where it stood, and instantly every gun, mortar, and howitzer, not previously engaged, was turned in that direction, and grievous was the destruction their shots made in the ranks of these columns. Still, our people at the breaches did not get forward, although we distinctly heard, with emotion, the bugles of our division sounding the advance. His lordship seemed now to lose all patience, and aides-de-camp were sent to ascertain the cause of the delay. They flew like lightning, while the whole rampart round the town seemed enveloped in one flame of fire. Our brave but unsuccessful comrades were heard cheering every now and then; but still the fire at the breaches did not slacken. At length, a despatch arrived from General Picton, stating that he had established himself in the castle. This was cheering news to his lordship, who expressed very strongly the gratitude he felt for that gallant general. -During the reading of the despatch, which was done by torchlight, the enemy, perceiving the light, and that a number of people had assembled on the hill, directed a shell in that direction; but it fell short, and did us no injury. His lordship now rode off, and ordered our people at the breaches to retire, as the town was now perfectly secure. I also set off to inform my people of the happy circumstance. I found them drawn off from the glacis a few hundred yards; but, oh! what a difference in their appearance now from what they were previous to the attack! The whole division scarcely -mustered at this time 2000 men; so many had been killed and wounded, and many had been sent to the rear with the latter. I informed them that General Picton had got possession of the castle, but my story appeared to them an incredible tale; for it was actually impossible, they thought; and although they made me repeat it over and over again, they could scarcely bring their minds to credit such unexpected news. It was now dawn of day, and the firing had ceased at every point. Here I learnt the fate of my two beloved friends and messmates: Croudace had been shot through the body, and carried to the rear; Cary had fallen, but they could not tell what had become of him. I now went forward towards the breaches, where I

found that several men of both the 4th and light divisions had remained; and when General Picton moved from the castle towards that point, which I believe he stated in his despatch to be his intention, the enemy, finding themselves attacked in rear, began to abandon the defence of the breaches, and our people were then enabled to enter. Never did I witness any thing like the artificial impediments which the enemy had here thrown up, which, added to the natural ones, that is to the breaches not having been so perfectly practicable as was desirable, rendered it next to impossible to enter, even after all opposition on their part had ceased. In one breach (the large one) this was literally the case; for at the top of it was fixed a chevaux-de-frise, extending the whole width of the breach, and composed of a strong beam of wood, with sharp-pointed sword-blades fixed in every direction, they being generally about three quarters of a yard long, and so closely set together, that it was impossible either to leap over them or penetrate between them; and the whole so firmly fixed to the works at the top, that it could not be moved. In addition, they had fitted a number of long and thick planks with spikes about an inch or more in length, and laid them all down the breach, but fixed at the top, so that it was impossible for any one to get up without falling on these. Beyond the chevaux-de-frise several ditches had been cut, into which those must have fallen who surmounted the obstacles on the breach; but I believe none did, although I saw one Portuguese lying dead upon the ramparts; but I imagine he must either have been thrown up there by some explosion, or been one of those of the 3d division who came from the castle. In addition to all the above, from the covered way down into the ditch was, I should imagine, at least thirty feet; our people had descended by ladders, and I doubt not, in the dark, and, in the hurry and confusion of the moment, many were thrown down and killed. In the middle of the large ditch a smaller one had been cut, which was filled with water, and in which, added to the inundation close to the right of the breaches, (which had been caused by bringing the river partly into the ditch) numbers were drowned. Small mines had been constructed all along in the ditch, which were exploded when it was filled with people, and which produced infinite mischief. On the top

of the ramparts the enemy had a considerable number of shells of the largest size, ready filled and fused; and when our people had filled the ditch below, these were lighted, and thrown over on their heads, each shell , being capable of destroying from twelve to twenty men or more. They had beams of wood also laid on the ramparts, with old carriage-wheels, and every sort of missile imaginable, which were poured upon the unfortunate people below. When these things are taken into consideration, added to the incessant and destructive fire of from 3000 to 4000 men, all emulous to do their duty, at the short distance of perhaps twenty yards, with the ditch as full as it could possibly stow, the reader will be able to form some idea of the destruction that must naturally ensue; and awful indeed it was, for, within the space of less than an acre of ground. I should imagine not less than from 1200 to 1500 men were lying; it was a heart-rending sight. I learnt afterwards that many were the desperate efforts that had been made to ascend the breaches, but all in vain; that many had nearly reached the top, but being shot or blown up, the others were forced down again. Another and another trial still was made, but each succeeding party shared the fate of their predecessors. At last the bottoms of the breaches were nearly blocked up with the bodies of those who fell. By this time, General Phillippon, the French governor, had surrendered. When he found the 3d division had got possession of the castle, and were preparing to move down to second the attack of the breaches by taking the enemy in rear, and that General Walker, with a part of the 5th division, had escaladed, and established themselves at the other end of the town, he deemed further resistance useless, and retired, with the garrison, to St. Cristoval, on the opposite side of the river; and shortly after the whole surrendered prisoners of war. Soon after daylight, the remaining men of attacking divisions began to rush into the town, in hopes of sharing, with those who had already entered, the plunder they imagined it would afford; and though every thing was done by Colonel Barnard, aided by the other officers, to keep out those of the light division, it was useless, although he even risked his life to prevent their entering. He had bravely, during the attack, repeatedly ascended the breach, in hopes of overcoming the

obstacles which presented themselves, but he had always been driven back, although he escaped unhurt where all was death around him; and now his life nearly fell a sacrifice, in endeavouring to restore that discipline in his division which this unfortunate and unsuccessful assault had considerably impaired. He opposed his personal and bodily strength to the entrance of the plunderers, but in vain. They rushed in, in spite of all opposition; and in wrenching a musket from one of the soldiers of the 52d, who was forcing past him, he fell, and was nigh preci. pitated into the ditch. He, however, finding resistance here in vain, set off, accompanied by several other officers, into the town, to endeavour to restrain, as much as lay in his power, the li centiousness of those inside, whose bad passions, it was but too evident, would be let loose upon the defenceless inhabitants. I had been in company with Captain Percival, my commandingofficer before alluded to, from the time of my first coming down to the division before daylight; and now he and I, hearing the heart-piercing and afflicting groans which arose from the num bers of wounded still lying in the ditch, set to work to get as many of these poor fellows removed as was in our power. This we found a most arduous and difficult undertaking, as we could not do it without the aid of a considerable number of men; and it was a work of danger to attempt to force the now lawless soldiers to obey, and stop with us till this work of necessity and humanity was accomplished. All thought of what they owed their wounded comrades, and of the probability that ere long a similar fate might be their own, was swallowed up in their abominable rage for drink and plunder; however, by perseverance, and by occasionally using his stick, my commandant at length compelled a few fellows to lend their assistance in removing what we could into the town, where it was intended that hospitals should be established. But this was a most heart-rending duty; for, from the innumerable cries of,-Oh! for God's sake, come and remove me!" it was difficult to select the most proper objects for such care. Those who appeared likely to die, of course it would have been but cruelty to put to the pain of a removal; and many who, from the nature of their wounds, required great care and attention in carrying them, the half-drunken brutes whom we were

forced to employ exceedingly tortured and injured; nay, in carrying one man out of the ditch they very frequently kicked or trode upon several others, whom to touch was like death to them, and which produced the most agonising cries imaginable. I remember at this time Colonel (the late Sir Neil) Campbell passed out at the breach, and, as he had formerly been a captain in our regiment, many of the poor fellows who lay there knew him, and beseeched him in the most piteous manner to have them removed. He came to me, and urged upon me in the strongest manner to use every exertion to get the poor fellows away. This evinced he had a feeling heart: but he was not probably aware, that for that very purpose both my commanding officer and myself had been labouring for hours; but it soon began to grow excessively hot, and what with the toil and the heat of the sun, and the very unpleasant effuvia which now arose from the numerous dead and wounded, we were both compelled, about midday, to desist from our distressing though gratifying labours. It was now between twelve and one o'clock, and though we had a great many removed, a much greater number lay groaning in the ditch; but our strength was exhausted, for he was lame, and unable to move much, and I had been obliged to assist in carrying many myself, the drunken scoundrels whom we had pressed into the service seldom making more than one or two trips till they deserted us. But my lamented friend and messmate, poor Cary, was still to search for; and, after a considerable time, he was found beneath one of the ladders by which they had descended into the ditch. He was shot through the head, and I doubt not received his death-wound on the ladder, from which in all probability he fell. He was stripped completely naked, save a flannel waistcoat, which he wore next his skin. I had him taken up and placed upon a shutter, (he still breathed a little, though quite insensible,) and carried him to the camp. A sergeant and some men, whom we had pressed to carry him, were so drunk that they let him fall off from their shoulders, and his body fell with great force to the ground. I shuddered, but poor Cary, I believe, was past all feeling, or the fall would have greatly injured him. We laid him in bed in his tent, but it was not long ere my kind, esteemed, and lamented friend breathed his last.

Poor Croudace had also died imme diately after reaching the hospital, whither he had been carried when he was shot. Thus I lost two of my most particular and intimate acquaintances, from both of whom I had received many acts of kindness and friendship. They. will long live in my memory. Cary was buried next day behind our tents, one of the officers (iny other messmate) reading the funeral service. I cannot help adverting to some of the scenes which I witnessed in the ditch, while employed there as above noticed. One of the first strange sights that attracted our notice was soon after our arrival. An officer with yellow facings came out of the town with a frail fair one leaning on his arm, and carrying in her other hand a cage with a bird in it; and she tripped it over the bodies of the dead and dying with all the ease and indifference of a person moving in a ball-room,-no more concern being evinced by either of them, than if nothing extraordinary had occurred. It was really lamentable to see such an utter absence of all right feeling. Soon after this the men began to come out with their plunder. Some of them had dressed themselves in priests' or friars' garments,-some appeared in female dresses, as nuns, &c.; and, in short, all the whimsical and fantastical figures almost imaginable were to be seen coming reeling out of the town, for by this time they were nearly all drunk. I penetrated no farther into the town that day than to a house a little beyond the breach, where I had deposited the wounded; but I saw enough in this short trip to disgust me with the doings in Badajos at this time. I learnt that no house, church, or convent, was held sacred by the infuriated and now un. governable soldiery; but that priests or nuns, and common people, all shared alike, and that any who shewed the least resistance were instantly sacrificed to their fury. They had a method of firing through the lock of any door that happened to be shut against them, which almost invariably had the effect of forcing it open; and such scenes were witnessed in the streets as baffle description. One man of our first battalion, I am told, had got a hogshead of brandy into the streets, and, getting his mess-tin, and filling it from the cask, and seating himself astride like Bacchus, swore that every person who came past should drink, be he who he may. His commanding officer happened to be one who came that way,

and he was compelled to take the tin and drink, for had he refused, it is not improbable the wretch would have shot him, for his rifle was loaded by bis side, and the soldiers had by this time become quite past all control. Another, who had been fortunate to obtain a considerable quantity of doubloons, put them in his haversack, and was making his way out of the town, but was induced, before he left it, to drink more than he could carry. He laid him down somewhere to take a nap, and awoke soon after without even his shoes, and not only were the doubloons gone, but all his own necessaries also. In short, a thousand of the most tragi-comical spectacles that can possibly be imagined, might be witnessed in this devoted city. The officers did all they could to repress these outrages, but the soldiers were now so completely dispersed, that one quarter of them could not be found; and indeed the only benefit almost that the officers could render was, by each placing himself in a house, which generally secured it from being broken open and plundered. The different camps of our army were for several days after, more like rag-fairs than military encampments, such quantities of wearing-apparel of all kinds were disposing of by one set of plunderers

to the other.

MARY AND HER SIREA TRUE TALE, FOR THE OLIO.

There lives a curious foreigner,
An Anglicised old churl;

His daughter Mary is his pride,
And passion-hearted girl.

Wonder not, youths, that pass the door,
View Mary's roseate charms;
And every sheepish languish caught
Begets the sire's alarms.

Among the many breasts that sigh,

Young Mobbs a merry wight,

Loiters with Mary when the dusk
Grows evening into night.

Her father does not brook the stealth
Which Cupid loves to keep:
Mary's hard by the threshold's porch;
Within, her sire's asleep.

Rising in yawns and fev'rish dreams,
The hour of bed-time near ;
The sire shuts shop, calls Mary in,
To chastise her career.

Mobbs, laughing in his sleeve, delays
The flutt'ring girl each night;
The father's ire provok'd, declaims
Against this merry wight.

In broken accents, such as these,
He vents his nightly wrath :-
"Mary! you thfool! dat Mopps no goot!
A viper in your path!"

Mary loves coffee with a zest,-
This is another crime:
"Mary, you thfool! you nose you drink
A pailful at a time."

"Me drink a pailful, father ?"—"Ay !
You nose you do, you thfool !"
"Oh! father, say not so!"-" You do!
And contradicts by rule.

"And who is dat from London comes, To keep me up so long?"

"A very nice young man!"-" Not he!
You thfool! he'll lead you wrong."
"Dear father! sure, he means no harm."
"Better I nose den dat;

Mary, you thfool! he mean no goot!
I nose!-He vears vite hat.
"And, he de trav'ller! vot is HE?

You thfool! Is he your own?
He mean no goot, and fain vould take
You, like himselfs, to town."
Thus Mary and her frectious sire
Pass through their scenes In strife;
Whoever courts, he means no good,
And single she's for life.
Northampton.

Fine Arts.

POETRY AND PAINTING.

J.

Finden's Illustrations of Lord Byron's Works; and Finden's Gallery of the Graces, with Poetical Illustrations by T. K. Hervey. Tilt.

The two illustrated works are linked

together in our notice, as emanating from the kindred arts of painting and poesy. The first work has reached the

tenth part; and by the fostering aid of

Mr. Murray is tilt ed, as it were, into publicity, giving the poet's thoughts illustration, and proving the excellence of the artists so eminently employedBeautiful as are Finden's "Gallery of the Graces," their exhibition is decidedly enhanced by the poetic descriptions, to a degree of refinement seldom met with even in the tenderest verses; and which, moulded in Mr. T. Hervey's mind, are graceful divinities, for whom we may truly say--On lui a commis la garde de cette galerie.

Entimations of New Books.

The Georgian Era. Vol. II. This is a very useful and excellent work, well condensed, and containing a mass of highly interesting matter, suitable for the general reader, and valuable as a book of reference for the library the printing and general appearance of the work reflect great credit upon the proprietors.

The Life of a Sailor.

The gallant captain is no ordinary man to have passed through a life, by sea and land, affected by vicissitudes the most perilous. Though he shews