The regiment with its officers was to be transported in ships providedby His Majesty's government for the occasion: and in two days afterthe festive assembly at Mrs. O'Dowd's apartments, in the midst ofcheering from all the East India ships in the river, and the militaryon shore, the band playing "God Save the King," the officers wavingtheir hats, and the crews hurrahing gallantly, the transports went downthe river and proceeded under convoy to Ostend. Meanwhile the gallantJos had agreed to escort his sister and the Major's wife, the bulk ofwhose goods and chattels, including the famous bird of paradise andturban, were with the regimental baggage: so that our two heroinesdrove pretty much unencumbered to Ramsgate, where there were plenty ofpackets plying, in one of which they had a speedy passage to Ostend.

That period of Jos's life which now ensued was so full of incident,that it served him for conversation for many years after, and even thetiger-hunt story was put aside for more stirring narratives which hehad to tell about the great campaign of Waterloo. As soon as he hadagreed to escort his sister abroad, it was remarked that he ceasedshaving his upper lip. At Chatham he followed the parades and drillswith great assiduity. He listened with the utmost attention to theconversation of his brother officers (as he called them in after dayssometimes), and learned as many military names as he could. In thesestudies the excellent Mrs. O'Dowd was of great assistance to him; andon the day finally when they embarked on board the Lovely Rose, whichwas to carry them to their destination, he made his appearance in abraided frock-coat and duck trousers, with a foraging cap ornamentedwith a smart gold band. Having his carriage with him, and informingeverybody on board confidentially that he was going to join the Duke ofWellington's army, folks mistook him for a great personage, acommissary-general, or a government courier at the very least.

He suffered hugely on the voyage, during which the ladies were likewiseprostrate; but Amelia was brought to life again as the packet madeOstend, by the sight of the transports conveying her regiment, whichentered the harbour almost at the same time with the Lovely Rose. Joswent in a collapsed state to an inn, while Captain Dobbin escorted theladies, and then busied himself in freeing Jos's carriage and luggagefrom the ship and the custom-house, for Mr. Jos was at present withouta servant, Osborne's man and his own pampered menial having conspiredtogether at Chatham, and refused point-blank to cross the water. Thisrevolt, which came very suddenly, and on the last day, so alarmed Mr.Sedley, junior, that he was on the point of giving up the expedition,but Captain Dobbin (who made himself immensely officious in thebusiness, Jos said), rated him and laughed at him soundly: themustachios were grown in advance, and Jos finally was persuaded toembark. In place of the well-bred and well-fed London domestics, whocould only speak English, Dobbin procured for Jos's party a swarthylittle Belgian servant who could speak no language at all; but who, byhis bustling behaviour, and by invariably addressing Mr. Sedley as "Mylord," speedily acquired that gentleman's favour. Times are altered atOstend now; of the Britons who go thither, very few look like lords, oract like those members of our hereditary aristocracy. They seem forthe most part shabby in attire, dingy of linen, lovers of billiards andbrandy, and cigars and greasy ordinaries.

But it may be said as a rule, that every Englishman in the Duke ofWellington's army paid his way. The remembrance of such a fact surelybecomes a nation of shopkeepers. It was a blessing for acommerce-loving country to be overrun by such an army of customers: andto have such creditable warriors to feed. And the country which theycame to protect is not military. For a long period of history theyhave let other people fight there. When the present writer went tosurvey with eagle glance the field of Waterloo, we asked the conductorof the diligence, a portly warlike-looking veteran, whether he had beenat the battle. "Pas si bete"--such an answer and sentiment as noFrenchman would own to--was his reply. But, on the other hand, thepostilion who drove us was a Viscount, a son of some bankrupt ImperialGeneral, who accepted a pennyworth of beer on the road. The moral issurely a good one.

This flat, flourishing, easy country never could have looked more richand prosperous than in that opening summer of 1815, when its greenfields and quiet cities were enlivened by multiplied red-coats: whenits wide chaussees swarmed with brilliant English equipages: when itsgreat canal-boats, gliding by rich pastures and pleasant quaint oldvillages, by old chateaux lying amongst old trees, were all crowdedwith well-to-do English travellers: when the soldier who drank at thevillage inn, not only drank, but paid his score; and Donald, theHighlander, billeted in the Flemish farm-house, rocked the baby'scradle, while Jean and Jeannette were out getting in the hay. As ourpainters are bent on military subjects just now, I throw out this as agood subject for the pencil, to illustrate the principle of an honestEnglish war. All looked as brilliant and harmless as a Hyde Parkreview. Meanwhile, Napoleon screened behind his curtain offrontier-fortresses, was preparing for the outbreak which was to driveall these orderly people into fury and blood; and lay so many of themlow.

Everybody had such a perfect feeling of confidence in the leader (forthe resolute faith which the Duke of Wellington had inspired in thewhole English nation was as intense as that more frantic enthusiasmwith which at one time the French regarded Napoleon), the countryseemed in so perfect a state of orderly defence, and the help at handin case of need so near and overwhelming, that alarm was unknown, andour travellers, among whom two were naturally of a very timid sort,were, like all the other multiplied English tourists, entirely at ease.The famous regiment, with so many of whose officers we have madeacquaintance, was drafted in canal boats to Bruges and Ghent, thence tomarch to Brussels. Jos accompanied the ladies in the public boats; thewhich all old travellers in Flanders must remember for the luxury andaccommodation they afforded. So prodigiously good was the eating anddrinking on board these sluggish but most comfortable vessels, thatthere are legends extant of an English traveller, who, coming toBelgium for a week, and travelling in one of these boats, was sodelighted with the fare there that he went backwards and forwards fromGhent to Bruges perpetually until the railroads were invented, when hedrowned himself on the last trip of the passage-boat. Jos's death wasnot to be of this sort, but his comfort was exceeding, and Mrs. O'Dowdinsisted that he only wanted her sister Glorvina to make his happinesscomplete. He sate on the roof of the cabin all day drinking Flemishbeer, shouting for Isidor, his servant, and talking gallantly to theladies.

His courage was prodigious. "Boney attack us!" he cried. "My dearcreature, my poor Emmy, don't be frightened. There's no danger. Theallies will be in Paris in two months, I tell you; when I'll take youto dine in the Palais Royal, by Jove! There are three hundred thousandRooshians, I tell you, now entering France by Mayence and theRhine--three hundred thousand under Wittgenstein and Barclay de Tolly,my poor love. You don't know military affairs, my dear. I do, and Itell you there's no infantry in France can stand against Rooshianinfantry, and no general of Boney's that's fit to hold a candle toWittgenstein. Then there are the Austrians, they are five hundredthousand if a man, and they are within ten marches of the frontier bythis time, under Schwartzenberg and Prince Charles. Then there are theProoshians under the gallant Prince Marshal. Show me a cavalry chieflike him now that Murat is gone. Hey, Mrs. O'Dowd? Do you think ourlittle girl here need be afraid? Is there any cause for fear, Isidor?Hey, sir? Get some more beer."

Mrs. O'Dowd said that her "Glorvina was not afraid of any man alive,let alone a Frenchman," and tossed off a glass of beer with a winkwhich expressed her liking for the beverage.

Having frequently been in presence of the enemy, or, in other words,faced the ladies at Cheltenham and Bath, our friend, the Collector, hadlost a great deal of his pristine timidity, and was now, especiallywhen fortified with liquor, as talkative as might be. He was rather afavourite with the regiment, treating the young officers withsumptuosity, and amusing them by his military airs. And as there is onewell-known regiment of the army which travels with a goat heading thecolumn, whilst another is led by a deer, George said with respect tohis brother-in-law, that his regiment marched with an elephant.

Since Amelia's introduction to the regiment, George began to be ratherashamed of some of the company to which he had been forced to presenther; and determined, as he told Dobbin (with what satisfaction to thelatter it need not be said), to exchange into some better regimentsoon, and to get his wife away from those damned vulgar women. Butthis vulgarity of being ashamed of one's society is much more commonamong men than women (except very great ladies of fashion, who, to besure, indulge in it); and Mrs. Amelia, a natural and unaffected person,had none of that artificial shamefacedness which her husband mistookfor delicacy on his own part. Thus Mrs. O'Dowd had a cock's plume inher hat, and a very large "repayther" on her stomach, which she used toring on all occasions, narrating how it had been presented to her byher fawther, as she stipt into the car'ge after her mar'ge; and theseornaments, with other outward peculiarities of the Major's wife, gaveexcruciating agonies to Captain Osborne, when his wife and the Major'scame in contact; whereas Amelia was only amused by the honest lady'seccentricities, and not in the least ashamed of her company.

As they made that well-known journey, which almost every Englishman ofmiddle rank has travelled since, there might have been moreinstructive, but few more entertaining, companions than Mrs. MajorO'Dowd. "Talk about kenal boats; my dear! Ye should see the kenalboats between Dublin and Ballinasloe. It's there the rapid travellingis; and the beautiful cattle. Sure me fawther got a goold medal (andhis Excellency himself eat a slice of it, and said never was finer matein his loif) for a four-year-old heifer, the like of which ye never sawin this country any day." And Jos owned with a sigh, "that for goodstreaky beef, really mingled with fat and lean, there was no countrylike England."

"Except Ireland, where all your best mate comes from," said the Major'slady; proceeding, as is not unusual with patriots of her nation, tomake comparisons greatly in favour of her own country. The idea ofcomparing the market at Bruges with those of Dublin, although she hadsuggested it herself, caused immense scorn and derision on her part."I'll thank ye tell me what they mean by that old gazabo on the top ofthe market-place," said she, in a burst of ridicule fit to have broughtthe old tower down. The place was full of English soldiery as theypassed. English bugles woke them in the morning; at nightfall theywent to bed to the note of the British fife and drum: all the countryand Europe was in arms, and the greatest event of history pending: andhonest Peggy O'Dowd, whom it concerned as well as another, went onprattling about Ballinafad, and the horses in the stables atGlenmalony, and the clar't drunk there; and Jos Sedley interposed aboutcurry and rice at Dumdum; and Amelia thought about her husband, and howbest she should show her love for him; as if these were the greattopics of the world.

Those who like to lay down the History-book, and to speculate upon whatMIGHT have happened in the world, but for the fatal occurrence of whatactually did take place (a most puzzling, amusing, ingenious, andprofitable kind of meditation), have no doubt often thought tothemselves what a specially bad time Napoleon took to come back fromElba, and to let loose his eagle from Gulf San Juan to Notre Dame. Thehistorians on our side tell us that the armies of the allied powerswere all providentially on a war-footing, and ready to bear down at amoment's notice upon the Elban Emperor. The august jobbers assembled atVienna, and carving out the kingdoms of Europe according to theirwisdom, had such causes of quarrel among themselves as might have setthe armies which had overcome Napoleon to fight against each other, butfor the return of the object of unanimous hatred and fear. Thismonarch had an army in full force because he had jobbed to himselfPoland, and was determined to keep it: another had robbed half Saxony,and was bent upon maintaining his acquisition: Italy was the object ofa third's solicitude. Each was protesting against the rapacity of theother; and could the Corsican but have waited in prison until all theseparties were by the ears, he might have returned and reignedunmolested. But what would have become of our story and all ourfriends, then? If all the drops in it were dried up, what would becomeof the sea?

In the meanwhile the business of life and living, and the pursuits ofpleasure, especially, went on as if no end were to be expected to them,and no enemy in front. When our travellers arrived at Brussels, inwhich their regiment was quartered, a great piece of good fortune, asall said, they found themselves in one of the gayest and most brilliantlittle capitals in Europe, and where all the Vanity Fair booths werelaid out with the most tempting liveliness and splendour. Gambling washere in profusion, and dancing in plenty: feasting was there to fillwith delight that great gourmand of a Jos: there was a theatre where amiraculous Catalani was delighting all hearers: beautiful rides, allenlivened with martial splendour; a rare old city, with strangecostumes and wonderful architecture, to delight the eyes of littleAmelia, who had never before seen a foreign country, and fill her withcharming surprises: so that now and for a few weeks' space in a finehandsome lodging, whereof the expenses were borne by Jos and Osborne,who was flush of money and full of kind attentions to his wife--forabout a fortnight, I say, during which her honeymoon ended, Mrs. Ameliawas as pleased and happy as any little bride out of England.

Every day during this happy time there was novelty and amusement forall parties. There was a church to see, or a picture-gallery--therewas a ride, or an opera. The bands of the regiments were making musicat all hours. The greatest folks of England walked in the Park--therewas a perpetual military festival. George, taking out his wife to anew jaunt or junket every night, was quite pleased with himself asusual, and swore he was becoming quite a domestic character. And ajaunt or a junket with HIM! Was it not enough to set this little heartbeating with joy? Her letters home to her mother were filled withdelight and gratitude at this season. Her husband bade her buy laces,millinery, jewels, and gimcracks of all sorts. Oh, he was the kindest,best, and most generous of men!

The sight of the very great company of lords and ladies and fashionablepersons who thronged the town, and appeared in every public place,filled George's truly British soul with intense delight. They flungoff that happy frigidity and insolence of demeanour which occasionallycharacterises the great at home, and appearing in numberless publicplaces, condescended to mingle with the rest of the company whom theymet there. One night at a party given by the general of the divisionto which George's regiment belonged, he had the honour of dancing withLady Blanche Thistlewood, Lord Bareacres' daughter; he bustled for icesand refreshments for the two noble ladies; he pushed and squeezed forLady Bareacres' carriage; he bragged about the Countess when he gothome, in a way which his own father could not have surpassed. Hecalled upon the ladies the next day; he rode by their side in the Park;he asked their party to a great dinner at a restaurateur's, and wasquite wild with exultation when they agreed to come. Old Bareacres,who had not much pride and a large appetite, would go for a dinneranywhere.

"I hope there will be no women besides our own party," Lady Bareacressaid, after reflecting upon the invitation which had been made, andaccepted with too much precipitancy.

"Gracious Heaven, Mamma--you don't suppose the man would bring hiswife," shrieked Lady Blanche, who had been languishing in George's armsin the newly imported waltz for hours the night before. "The men arebearable, but their women--"

"Wife, just married, dev'lish pretty woman, I hear," the old Earl said.

"Well, my dear Blanche," said the mother, "I suppose, as Papa wants togo, we must go; but we needn't know them in England, you know." And so,determined to cut their new acquaintance in Bond Street, these greatfolks went to eat his dinner at Brussels, and condescending to make himpay for their pleasure, showed their dignity by making his wifeuncomfortable, and carefully excluding her from the conversation. Thisis a species of dignity in which the high-bred British female reignssupreme. To watch the behaviour of a fine lady to other and humblerwomen, is a very good sport for a philosophical frequenter of VanityFair.

This festival, on which honest George spent a great deal of money, wasthe very dismallest of all the entertainments which Amelia had in herhoneymoon. She wrote the most piteous accounts of the feast home toher mamma: how the Countess of Bareacres would not answer when spokento; how Lady Blanche stared at her with her eye-glass; and what a rageCaptain Dobbin was in at their behaviour; and how my lord, as they cameaway from the feast, asked to see the bill, and pronounced it a d----bad dinner, and d---- dear. But though Amelia told all these stories,and wrote home regarding her guests' rudeness, and her owndiscomfiture, old Mrs. Sedley was mightily pleased nevertheless, andtalked about Emmy's friend, the Countess of Bareacres, with suchassiduity that the news how his son was entertaining peers andpeeresses actually came to Osborne's ears in the City.

Those who know the present Lieutenant-General Sir George Tufto, K.C.B.,and have seen him, as they may on most days in the season, padded andin stays, strutting down Pall Mall with a rickety swagger on hishigh-heeled lacquered boots, leering under the bonnets of passers-by,or riding a showy chestnut, and ogling broughams in the Parks--thosewho know the present Sir George Tufto would hardly recognise the daringPeninsular and Waterloo officer. He has thick curling brown hair andblack eyebrows now, and his whiskers are of the deepest purple. He waslight-haired and bald in 1815, and stouter in the person and in thelimbs, which especially have shrunk very much of late. When he wasabout seventy years of age (he is now nearly eighty), his hair, whichwas very scarce and quite white, suddenly grew thick, and brown, andcurly, and his whiskers and eyebrows took their present colour.Ill-natured people say that his chest is all wool, and that his hair,because it never grows, is a wig. Tom Tufto, with whose father hequarrelled ever so many years ago, declares that Mademoiselle deJaisey, of the French theatre, pulled his grandpapa's hair off in thegreen-room; but Tom is notoriously spiteful and jealous; and theGeneral's wig has nothing to do with our story.

One day, as some of our friends of the --th were sauntering in theflower-market of Brussels, having been to see the Hotel de Ville, whichMrs. Major O'Dowd declared was not near so large or handsome as herfawther's mansion of Glenmalony, an officer of rank, with an orderlybehind him, rode up to the market, and descending from his horse, cameamongst the flowers, and selected the very finest bouquet which moneycould buy. The beautiful bundle being tied up in a paper, the officerremounted, giving the nosegay into the charge of his military groom,who carried it with a grin, following his chief, who rode away in greatstate and self-satisfaction.

"You should see the flowers at Glenmalony," Mrs. O'Dowd was remarking."Me fawther has three Scotch garners with nine helpers. We have an acreof hot-houses, and pines as common as pays in the sayson. Our greepsweighs six pounds every bunch of 'em, and upon me honour and conscienceI think our magnolias is as big as taykettles."

Dobbin, who never used to "draw out" Mrs. O'Dowd as that wicked Osbornedelighted in doing (much to Amelia's terror, who implored him to spareher), fell back in the crowd, crowing and sputtering until he reached asafe distance, when he exploded amongst the astonished market-peoplewith shrieks of yelling laughter.

"Hwhat's that gawky guggling about?" said Mrs. O'Dowd. "Is it his nosebleedn? He always used to say 'twas his nose bleedn, till he must havepomped all the blood out of 'um. An't the magnolias at Glenmalony asbig as taykettles, O'Dowd?"

"'Deed then they are, and bigger, Peggy," the Major said. When theconversation was interrupted in the manner stated by the arrival of theofficer who purchased the bouquet.

"Devlish fine horse--who is it?" George asked.

"You should see me brother Molloy Malony's horse, Molasses, that wonthe cop at the Curragh," the Major's wife was exclaiming, and wascontinuing the family history, when her husband interrupted her bysaying--

"It's General Tufto, who commands the ---- cavalry division"; addingquietly, "he and I were both shot in the same leg at Talavera."

"Where you got your step," said George with a laugh. "General Tufto!Then, my dear, the Crawleys are come."

Amelia's heart fell--she knew not why. The sun did not seem to shineso bright. The tall old roofs and gables looked less picturesque allof a sudden, though it was a brilliant sunset, and one of the brightestand most beautiful days at the end of May.