: of the sacristan possesses some comic colouring.-In another piece Lopez de Vega represents a sacristan as a love messenger, or bearer of billet-doux at first he feels indignant at the profane proposal, as derogatory to his demi-clerical character; but at the sight of some gold coin, he finds out that in furthering the views of the lovers, he is only consulting the interest of the church, and the honour of the holy sacrament of matrimony, by hastening the moment of the nuptial benediction. The plot of another interlude, Los Romanos, "The Romances," is evidently taken from the Don Quixote of Cervantes. Bartolo, a young peasant, has had his head turned by the reading of romances aud poems treating of chivalry. In spite of the endeavours of all his family, he bestrides his ass and sets out in quest of adventures: close to his native village he meets an old comrade, whom he takes for a Moor his rival; falls foul of him, and is soundly drubbed for the mistake. Stretched on the earth, and aching in every bone, he invokes the aid of Montezinos, Durandarte, and other heroes of romance: his family arrive, and inquire how he has come into such a plight, but he only replies by high chivalric and inexplicable phrases, calling his father the Marquis of Mantua, and his mother l'Infanta. On being asked if he be wounded, he answers in heroic strain, that he has "twenty trenched gashes on his head, the least a death to nature." His relations very naturally conclude that he is non compos, and take him back to his house, in order to secure and watch him until his folly shall have abated. The scene changes to the interior of the house, where the wedding of Bartolo's sister is celebrating. His mother enters, and says that the patient is in a sound sleep, and that there is little danger of their being disturbed by him. The festivities commence, but in the midst of them Bartolo rushes to the door of the apartment, in his shirt, crying out" Fire! fire!" The guests disperse in every direction, some to escape and others to extinguish the conflagration; but it is a false alarm; and the only thing that is found to be on fire is the brain of poor Bartolo, who is heard reciting a poetical description of the burning of Troy, which recitation terminates the interlude. This little piece had at least the merit of being à propos, and must have excited a good deal of laughter at the time when chivalric romances were so much the vogue in Spain. The last of those minor pieces I shall mention, is entitled El Ospidal de los Podridos, "The Hospital for Fools." The plan is not devoid of comic intention. The director of a mad-house, attended by his secretary, passes in review all the inmates of his establishment. One has been driven mad by envy, another by poetry, a third by ambition; and after examining five or six of his insane guests, the director himself gets into a furious passion with one of them, and becomes so outrageous, that the secretary orders the keeper to secure and confine him. Shortly after, the secretary also falls into so terrible a rage with the keeper, that the latter thinks it but prudent to accommodate him with a cell and a straightwaistcoat. We were in hopes, that as insanity was taking its rounds, that the keeper himself would have become mad and so filled up the measure of folly. This piece, in its plan and composition, is of a higher order than the fore-mentioned ones. It approaches very near a regular comedy, and might, with a little modification, take a not inferior place amongst those modern theatrical pieces, which the French call pièces à tiroir, because they contain several unconnected characters that are developed one after the other, as you draw out the drawers of a cabinet or secretaire. Amongst the fools who figure in El Ospidal de los Podridos is a poet, who cannot digest an absurdity that appears in the first verses of an old song, where it is said, that Charlemagne was one day playing at chess with the chief Moor Almeria. The fool shrewdly enough observes, that an emperor must have had something else to do than play at chess; and insists upon having the last will of the author of the song examined, to see if there be not an injunction to his executors to correct the mistake. All the interludes that I have here mentioned are to be found in the voluminous collection of Lopez de Vega's dramatic works, and are probably, written by him. It is to be regretted that these are the only ones that have been printed or come down to our times; for although they could not be held up as models of dramatic composition, yet they might have furnished modern writers for the stage with a great variety of comic situations, pleasant adventures, and frank and joyous humour, which might very advantageously replace the servile and spiritless imitations, and meagre and tasteless rechauffes, which are so profusely obtruded upon the English and French public at present. Indeed, the dramatic literature of Spain, the offspring of the fresh and fertile Castilian imagination, may be considered as a rich mine, from which though there has been already much valuable and sterling ore extracted, yet still sufficient remains to reward the labour and ingenuity of future adventurers. D. ON SEEING A TOMB ADORNED WITH ANGELS WEEPING. Though sculptors, with mistaken art, Place weeping angels round the tomb; Yet, when the good and great depart, These shout to bear their conquerors home. Glad they survey their labours o'er, And with their mounting spirits rise. Britain may mourn her Patriot dead, Parents may shed a tender tear, And friends indulge a parting groan ; But if the wounded marble bear CAMPAIGNS OF A CORNET. NO. IV. THE information which we received from the two alarmists, whom, as I have already related, we discovered like the valiant fat knights, lying upon their faces, induced us to take the precaution of reconnoitring the position and force of the enemy's troops. This duty, which is called patrolling, is usually performed, in the first instance, by some cavalry officer, who takes with him four or five of his men, merely to prevent surprise. I shall here give a slight notion of the manner in which this duty is done; but first, we must beg our civil readers will not confound us with that highly meritorious body of men, called, xar' ɛğoy, the horse-patrol; who may be observed pursuing their nocturnal rounds in the villages near the metropolis, and with whose cry of" pad-rowl," no doubt many of our readers must be acquainted. Perhaps the strongest distinction between us and that worthy body of men is, that the horse-patrol invariably perform their duties on foot. When the patrolling party advances, two dragoons are first despatched, about fifty yards from one another, with their carbines upon their knee, while the officer, with the sergeant, follows at the distance of sixty or seventy yards from the last dragoon, and the rear is in general brought up by another of the party. The advance is made with the utmost caution, the soldiers in front examining every hedge and bush: the moment they scent the enemy they fire their carbines, and retreat if the danger is at hand, or else wait till their officer rides up to make his observations. The direction given on these occasions is to gather as much information as possible, but never to incur the danger of being captured; which would of course defeat the object in view. Under these circumstances it is not considered derogatory to the honour of a soldier to display the best part of valour, and to live to fight another day. In passing through villages there is of course more danger of surprise (which we this day proved) than in the open country, and it is the usual practice to make the dragoons ride two or three times up and down the street before the officer considers it conformable to military regulations to venture his own person. On the present occasion I took with me a sergeant and three men; and in the selection of my attendants I paid particular attention to their physical strength and mental courage. One of the privates who now accompanied me I had often employed on similar occasions. He was an athletic, bold enterprising Scotchman, about six feet high. Like Cinna, he had a head to contrive, and a hand to execute any mischief. I well recollect, when we lay before Pampeluna, an instance of this man's courage which is worth repeating. He made some trifling bet with a brother soldier, when on picquet, that he would knock at the city-gate, notwithstanding the interposition of the French troops between us and the walls. One evening, under the cover of vineyards and standing corn, he crept round the French picquets, lay listening to them a little while, then stole forwards, knocked at the gate, and retreated in safety to his party; an action which was visible to some of our own men, who had their eyes fixed upon his movements. After having patrolled fourteen or fifteen miles, over hill and dale, we arrived at the entrance of a small town, where we had some suspicions that a party of the gens-d'armerie of the province was quartered. Accordingly, I directed two men to enter the town, with strict injunctions to use every precaution; but, after waiting a considerable time for their return, and not hearing the report of their carbines, I determined to advance myself. I am sure it must have been an amusing thing to an indifferent spectator to have seen the very cautious style in which we now made our approaches: Macbeth, when he was on his way to commit the murder, could not have looked around him with greater anxiety than we did. At last the mystery was explained, at the bottom of the street I perceived my two heroes led captives from a winehouse by a party of gens-d'armes, and I learned from a peasant that, attracted by the smell of the wine, the rogues had got off their horses, and had no sooner entered the house than they were instantly captured by a party of the enemy, who were regaling themselves there. They paid dearly for their indiscretion. About three or four months afterwards they joined me at Bourdeaux; and from the day of their capture until that time they had never enjoyed a day's rest: marched in the first instance to Verdun, the advance of the Allies drove them thence to Lisle; from Lisle they were sent to Cherbourg, and at Cherbourg they were turned loose without a single sous, to rejoin the English army if they were able. Finding it impossible to recapture our companions, we were compelled, very much to the annoyance of the stout-hearted Scotchman, to make good our retreat, without any attempt at a rescue. However, as we reached the outskirts of the town, we sprang some fresh game in the person of a French commissary, in a large cocked-hat and feather, who was making the best of his way out of town towards the French camp, mounted on a horse which the Scotchman immediately recognised as the steed of one of the captives. He could not resist this; and dropping his carbine by the swivel, he drew his sword, and commenced the chase. He gained a little on the man of beef and mutton, before the latter was aware of his pursuer; but, on perceiving his danger, he fled precipitately towards a river, which ran about a quarter of a mile off. The race was admirable. The Scotchman, thinking that a live commissary was of greater value than a dead one, made several snatches at him as he came up with him, but the Frenchman's ingenious evolutions always defeated those attempts. The spectacle was at one time very ludicrous. The Scotchman grasped his adversary's immense cocked hat, which was tied under his chin by the scales, and he would certainly have succeeded in either detaining or in choking him, had not the Frenchman, with great presence of mind, slipped the knot which tied the ligature. Like an over-hunted stag the commissary now took the water, and by this manoeuvre gained a little on his pursuer, who now began to cut at him very viciously; but as the river was deep and rapid, and his horse began to swim, our champion, obeying my peremptory mandate, gave up the pursuit. The result of the day's campaign was the loss of two men, and the capture of one cocked-hat. On rejoining our detachment I found them waiting my return, to proceed forthwith to the army, which we reached about two o'clock'on the following day. The village in which our own regiment lay was on the banks of the Garonne, and contained, in addition to the English brigade, Morillo's corps of the Spanish army. The French were posted on the heights, on the other side of the river; with the picquets upon the banks, so that the officers on each side could converse together with ease. About five o'clock in the afternoon we received an order to be mounted at ten; which put us all in good spirits, and on assembling at that hour, we found that our present duty was to pass over the pontoons, which the engineers were then laying across the river. My orders were to pass over with about twenty men, and skirmish, while the remainder were crossing. No very enviable amusement, it must be confessed, on a dark night. The swelling of the waters from the rains in the mountains, had so increased the breadth of the river, that we found we had thirty yards of pontoons wanting; the consequence of which was that we were compelled to return, and all our pontoons fell into the hands of the enemy. At daybreak the next morning, the commander of the forces came down, and instead of finding his troops established on the right bank of the river and engaged with the enemy, to his no little chagrin, discovered what had taken place the night before. This circumstance, I suppose, rather ruffled his temper; the effects of which were visible in the case of a Spanish soldier, whom at this moment I saw crossing his excellency's path, carrying a bottle of wine, and pursued by an old countryman, exclaiming in some horrible patois against the dishonesty of the Spaniard. The Frenchman seeing that the commander-in-chief wore a cocked-hat, immediately made his complaint to him. The provost-marshal (whose powers extend to life and limb) was ordered instantly to take cognizance of the offence; and on his arrival the delinquent was tied to a log of wood, protesting vehemently against being flogged. Unfortunately for him, however, such an apprehension was entirely vain, for in about ten minutes from the time of the commission of the offence, half a dozen balls, from the carbines of as many dragoons, effectually prevented the delinquent from repeating his crime. This was "Philosophy teaching by example" with a vengeance; but after all it did not destroy that innate love of wine by which all the Spaniards are distinguished. The commander-in-chief being determined to throw the right of the 'army over the river, above Toulouse, we proceeded along the bank until we arrived at the place where the Garonne is formed by the junction of two smaller rivers. The first of these we succeeded in crossing by a pontoon bridge, and we had then to march across the country for eight or ten leagues, in order to cross the other branch. The army lay on the banks of the latter stream, and I was stationed in an old chateau in the rear. My directions were to cross the river opposite the chateau; which, however, I found it impossible to do, both by reason of the depth of the river, and of a company of French light infantry on the opposite bank. It was about sun-set when I took my station, and having doubled my videttes, and directed my picquet to keep on the alert, it occurred to me that it was a ridiculous thing to be starving in the very granary of France. As the most peaceable plan of securing a supper, I commanded my trumpeter to attend me, and proceeded to make a vigorous attack upon a strong garrison of pigeons at the top of the chateau. Here, "like an eagle in a dovecote," I did great execution, with the assistance of the trumpeter; when suddenly our ears were assailed by the sound of several shots, which intimated that there was some sharp skirmishing going forward, and immediately he of the sounding brass and myself flew without helmet or swords to our steeds. The skirmishing was now all round us, for |