The following narrative is put forth with all the diffidence and apprehension that a mind unaccustomed to literary pursuits, and limited in its opportunities of improvement, naturally feels on presenting itself for the first time to the notice of the public. The doubts I entertain, regarding the prudence of the step I have taken, are in no small degree increased by the circumstances under which the work has been executed, the details having been entirely furnished from memory, and without the aid of any sort of data or memoranda. I should never have dreamt of undertaking such a task, had not the partiality of good natured, though perhaps misjudging friends, overcame the scruples which a consciousness of my own deficiencies excited, and induced me to commit to paper the scenes with which they professed themselves to have been amused.

Having candidly admitted the demerits of the work, I may now be allowed to say a few words in its favour. Should it be taken up in the expectation of supplying materials for the defence of an erroneous policy, or the gratification of party spleen, it will fall short of the hopes of the reader, for I have endeavoured to steer clear of every thing like political allusion in the fear of adding to difficulties, which already appeared sufficiently formidable, and of wrecking my little bark on a stormy and troubled sea. Mine is the simple, straightforward narrative of a soldier, more accustomed to wield the sword than the pen, and caring little for the conflicting interests or animosities of party. With such a small amount of profession, it is not unreasonable to hope that the public will extend towards it some portion of that generous indulgence with which it is ever wont to regard the literary efforts of the humbler classes.

London, December 10th, 1842.