Soon after the battle of Fuentes Lord Wellington was again called to the south, leaving us with a burning desire to follow, which was eventually gratified; for, after various coquettish movements between us and the enemy, which carried us in retreat near to Sabugal, we, at length, received an order for the south; and, leaving our adversaries to do that which might seem best unto them, we were all at once helm up for the other side of the Tagus.
On our way there we halted a night at Castello Branco, and hearing that the Bishop's garden was open for inspection, and well worth the seeing, I went with a brother-officer to reconnoitre it.
Throughout the country which we had been traversing for a season, the ravages of the contending armies had swept the fruits, flowers, and even the parent stems, from the face of the earth, as if such things had never been; and it is, therefore, difficult to convey an idea of the gratification we experienced in having our senses again regaled with all that was delightful in either, and in admirable order.
Beauty, in whatever shape it comes before us, is almost irresistible, and the worthy prelate's oranges proved quite so; for they looked so brightly yellow—so plumply ripe—and the trees groaned with their load, as if praying for relief, that with hearts framed as ours, so sensitively alive to nature's kindlier feelings, it was impossible to refuse the appeal.
Stolen kisses, they say, are the sweetest, and besides, as there might have been some impropriety in pressing the oranges to our lips so publicly, we were at some loss to provide for their transfer to a suitable place, as our dress was pocketless, and fitted as tight as a glove; but we contrived to stow away about a dozen each in our then sugar-loaf-shaped regimental caps, and placing them carefully on the head, we marched off as stiffly as a brace of grenadiers.
As the devil would have it, however, in traversing the palace-hall, we encountered the Bishop himself, and as it was necessary that the compliments of the season should pass between us, it was rather an awkward meeting; I was myself alive to the consequences of having more brains above the head than in it, and, therefore, confined myself to the stiff soldier's salute; but my companion, unluckily, forgot his load, and in politely returning the prelate's bow, sent his cap and oranges rolling at his feet, while his face shone as a burnt offering at the same shrine! The Bishop gave a benevolent smile, and after very good naturedly assisting the youth to collect the scattered fruit, he politely wished us a good morning, leaving us not a little ashamed of ourselves, and deeply impressed with a sense of his gentleman-like demeanour and amiable disposition.
Our third march from Castello Branco brought us to Portalegre, where we halted for some days.
In a former chapter, I have given the Portuguese national character, such as I found it generally,—but in nature there are few scenes so blank as to have no sunny side, and throughout that kingdom, the romantic little town of Portalegre still dwells the greenest spot on memory's waste.
Unlike most other places in that devoted land, it had escaped the vengeful visit of their ruthless foe, and having, therefore, no fatal remembrance to cast its shade over the future, the inhabitants received us as if we had been beings of a superior order, to whom they were indebted for all the blessings they enjoyed, and showered their sweets upon us accordingly.