  “Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither.” Shakspeare. Captain Thompson, of the artillery, while serving in the Peninsula, had the luck to lose, in the space of one campaign, every man of the heavy brigade which he commanded, some by sickness, but most by the enemy; and he found himself at last, not only the captain of the brigade, but, in his own person, the brigade itself. Finding, however, that a commanding officer, without men to command, was neither useful nor ornamental, he applied personally to the Adjutant-general, for advice under the circumstances, observing, that he wished to be appointed to some other duty. The Adjutant-general, at the moment the application was made to him, happened to be proceeding across the village in which they were quartered, to Lord Wellington; and said he would speak to his Lordship, requesting Thompson to call on him, for the purpose of knowing the Commander of the forces' will on the subject. When the Adjutant-general mentioned the matter to Lord Wellington, his Lordship was very busy with a map of the Peninsula, and did not give any answer regarding the captain and his brigade; but continued to attend to the subject he was then engaged with. At length the Adjutant-general got up to retire, and amongst other things, asked his Lordship again, where he should send Captain Thompson; “Oh, send him to h——ll,” was the reply, and the interview ended. When the last man of the brigade called upon the Adjutant-general, to know the result of his application, he was accosted by that officer in a grave and official manner:— “Captain Thompson,” said he, “I am sorry we are going to lose you; and still more sorry to learn the sort of duty which the Commander of the forces has assigned to so deserving an officer.” The Captain, who was a most gallant and deserving, but hot-tempered and impetuous man, interrupted the Adjutant-general thus: “God bless me! I hope his Lordship is not going to send me home.” “I don't know that,” was the answer. “I'm sure I have done my duty since I have joined his Lordship's army,” continued the Captain, “and I trust I shall not be so far negatively disgraced.” “My dear Captain,” replied the Adjutant-general, “it is not a very disgraceful duty to which you are appointed, considering the very respectable men who have preceded you upon it. The fact is, that the Commander of the forces, knowing you to be a devil of a fire-eater, has directed us to send you to h——ll, and here is your route,” handing him an official direction of the marches by which he was to arrive at his destination. The stages mentioned in the route were whimsical in the extreme, and there were several good points made; the last-mentioned place on the road was London. When Thompson read the paper, his weather-beaten jaws relaxed into a smile; and putting the document into his pocket, he drily remarked, that Lord Wellington had always been in the habit of giving him hot work. “It is not the first time,” said he, “that I was sent to clear the way for him; however, when I arrive, I'll look out for warm quarters for his Lordship and staff. But there is a mistake in the route, I suspect; you see ‘London’ is the last stage mentioned.” “Yes,” replied the Adjutant-general, “and depend upon it that is the nearest way to the infernal regions.” “Excuse me,” rejoined Thompson, “there is a much better.” “What is that?” asked the other. “Why,” said the Captain, “Wellington, to be sure.” The joke was soon carried to the Commander of the forces, and his Lordship, with the best humour in the world, changed Thompson's route, and took him off the infernal duty to which he had previously ordered him. |
|
