hides, perhaps covering a wooden horse. They are accoutred with saddle, stirrups, and bridle. One person who came down on one of these horses rose and fell in his stirrups as though riding a real horse; it created much laughter, and the people surrounding immediately called out "Un Anglais! un Anglais!" I believe he was an Englishman. It had a ridiculous effect to observe the anxiety depicted on the countenances of the heroes, and compare them, with the knowledge of their perfect safety, with the laughing groups that surrounded them. Sometimes a veteran hero would mount one of the horses and come down with triumph in his countenance; the effect then became still more ridiculous, for he seemed like a great baby mounted on a hobby-horse proportionately large. But so it is through life, I think; one sees people capable of being elated as much by actions little in themselves, but enlarged for the instant by circumstances, as, for instance, in this case—the rapidity of motion, the gay crowd, and the distant music—as they would have been by an action really great in itself but unembroidered by outward show.

Hearing the music and wishing to see the dancing I had heard so much of, I approached the dancers. We read that the French enjoy dancing with great zest; certes, to see them dance a quadrille, one would not say so: 'tis true it is a dance in which custom has forbidden much exertion, still the entire listlessness they show induced me to think it was a task rather than a pleasure. But when a lively waltz struck up and the waltzing began, I....

Here the notes break off.

Of the student's life of four years from 1828 to 1832 there is little which can or need be said. For two years and a half out of the four he was house surgeon at the Westminster Hospital and the Ophthalmic Hospital, having received, at the age of twenty-one, the diploma from the Royal College to practise surgery. During this period he continued modelling, and took pupils in that art. Writing for periodicals also occupied some of his leisure time.

No sooner was his student career ended than an opening presented itself which determined the future course of his life, but in a way very different from what could possibly have been anticipated.

II. THE PENINSULA, 1832-1837.

Dynastic quarrel in Portugal—Foreign legion—Mr Alcock enters the service, 1832—Character of the force and its leaders—Colonel Shaw—Incidents of the campaign—Important medical services of Mr Alcock—Joins the Spanish Foreign Legion, 1836—Termination of the campaign.

There were troubles in Portugal. The usurper Dom Miguel was on the throne. It was proposed to seat the rightful sovereign, Donna Maria, there—her father, Dom Pedro, ex-Emperor of Brazil, who assumed the title of Duke of Braganza, heading the movement.

Sympathy was excited in France and England, in both of which countries irregular forces were levied to co-operate with the constitutional party in Portugal led by his imperial majesty. It was a kind of service which tempted alike young bloods and old soldiers who had been languishing in peace and idleness since 1815, and a small army of "Liberators" was got together in England, with a corresponding naval force.

It has been mentioned that young Alcock had studied under the eminent army surgeon Guthrie. Feelings of regard had sprung up between the two which extended far beyond the professional sphere. Not only had the boy been a favourite pupil whose aptitude reflected credit on his teacher, but it is quite evident that a personal affection which lasted their respective lifetimes was rekindled during the years they subsequently spent together in Westminster. When, therefore, Mr Guthrie was applied to by Mr O'Meara, who had been in attendance on Napoleon at St Helena, to recommend a surgeon for the British-Portuguese force, Guthrie sent at once for Alcock and discussed with him his professional prospects. The upshot was that as, considering his youth,—he was then only twenty-two,—it was useless for him to think of beginning practice in London, a few years might be most advantageously passed in military service abroad. The young man was only too eager to close with the offer then made to him, which not only afforded the prospect of active professional work, but seemed to open the way for adventures such as the soul of a young man loveth. Within twenty-four hours of accepting the offer Alcock was on the way to Portsmouth and the Azores. For some time after his arrival there he did duty on board ship. His ambition being cramped by this restricted service, however, he was anxious to be transferred to the military force. He accordingly applied to Colonel Hodges, who commanded the marine battalion, to be taken on his staff. The colonel looked at him with some hesitation owing to his extremely youthful appearance, but on hearing that he had been specially recommended by Guthrie, said, "Oh, that is a different matter; come along."

Of the Peninsular expeditions of 1832-37 the interest for the present generation lies less in their origin, aims, and results, than in their conduct and incidents. They were episodes which have left no marks on the general course of history visible to the ordinary observer, and are memorable chiefly for their dramatic effects, the play of character, the exhibitions of personal courage, capacity, and devotion; of jealousy, intrigue, and incapacity; of love and hate; and of the lights and shadows that flit across the theatre of human life. Interferences in other people's quarrels naturally bring to the surface all the incongruities. The auxiliaries are sure to be thought arrogant whether they are really so or not, and the protégés are no less certain to be deemed ungrateful. Each party is apt to underestimate the exploits of the other and to exaggerate his own. They take widely different views of the conditions under which their respective services are rendered; they misconstrue each other's motives, assessing them at their lowest apparent value. Each side looks for certain sentimental acknowledgments from the other, while daily frictions and inevitable misunderstandings continually embitter the disappointment felt at their absence. And there are not two parties, but many. There are wheels within wheels; sections playing on each other tricks which savour of treachery on the one side, while on the other side there may be sulks which are constructive mutiny. The question of pay is naturally a constant source of bitterness, for countries that need foreign assistance are impecunious and dilatory. Few of them would be entitled to the certificate which Dugald Dalgetty gave to his excellent paymasters, the Dutch. Yet in spite of drawbacks, there is a kind of method in the whole business, a movement towards a goal, though at a maximum of cost, with the greatest waste and the most poignant regrets over mismanagement.

But what in these irregular campaigns is so remarkable as to be almost repugnant to common reason is the devotion of the mercenary soldier. This inspiriting sentiment, which springs up spontaneously like a wild-flower in desert places, seems to put patriotism in the shade as a motive for sacrifice. The hired soldier, though an alien, is often indeed more faithful than the son of the soil, perhaps for the reason that his allegiance is of a simpler nature, more categorical and explicit. The direct personal character of such alien allegiance and its transferability are exemplified in the lives of soldiers of fortune in general: never better, perhaps, than in the wild and dangerous career of Alexander Gardner, colonel of artillery in the service of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, whose Memoirs have been recently edited by Major Hugh Pearse. Is it the fighting instinct, hereditary heroism, or military discipline that makes the