The Sun.
London, England, 1859-12-29 00:00:00

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Critnea (and much of which will doubtle -e. : r,:: 'ere- ,474
highly 'prized 'in Tartar', lints for 'a- cen tt '''Vi'' 177' --' .44, ' ,
come), would place this camp in-a state of perfect a - S
luxury.. As it is, we have a few camp-stools, and -'''- A''
we sit On boxes, and trunks, and -1 eds, and manage -•
pretty well. The accommodation is not such as to
tempt to late sittings, and Spaniards are not in the
habit-Of lingering over their-bottle, while toddy or -
grog is to most of them a thing abhorrent. So after ' '
dinner they generally content themselves with a cup
of Coffee or tea (the use of the latter has of late
years become widely spread in Spain), and when
they ka--.,:, ----,"lted a cigar or two, or a dozen
:pape/iios, u,m. , . . :.: -7 'their past. ciimpaigns, and
(-
aiming trim:, • ' '•.. : 7, enerally ret trekarly tkr.bed.
I suspect. .e ni..j.,..ity- are-- wrapped- in, -their-
b7ankets, rugs, or cloaks between 9 and 10, and to - • •
sit up habitually till 11 would almost :;oilice to give
one the reputation of a " fast man." , The night
here is not the pleasantest part of the 24 hours.
The best canvas is impotent to exclude the fresh
breezes that sometimes whistle over this nook of
Northern Africa, and lucky is he who sleeps so
soundly as not to be pretty frt quentlyawaketted by
the :cold. Lspeak of those situated as the great
majority ate here, not of a very few fortunate and
foresighted individuals who have spared nothinj
that can conduce to comfort, and who may almost •
be said to carry, snail-like, their homes upon their
backs, or at least upon Ihe backs of their sumptcr
mules. 1 know one officer, fur instance—on a cor-
ner of whose tent I detected the well-known name
of Edgington—wha nightly tucks himself into a bed
than which, barring sheets, a more comfortable he
could hardly have in his house at Madrid. But he
is one in a hundred, and the great majority, Gene-
rals included, are content with much rougher
Couches. More or less well or ill, the night passes,
One's slumbers only occasionally broken by a chilly
blast, the tramp of a relief, by an escaped mule
running up against the tent, or by the baying of
sundry dogs who have attached themselves to the
army and apparently intend going through the
campaign. At 6 o'clock it is still dark night, but
sleep is at an end for all whose repose is not proof
against every variety of noise. The man-of-war in
the harbour has hardly fired the morning gun when
a solitary trumpet, which, in the stillness that, pro-
Hkils, •seems sounded withiira- foot' ofelatre's -tent;
' clangs out a call. Sometimes its notes are a little
false and languid, as if the trumpeter were still half
asleep and felt a compassionate hesitation in rousing
his comrades. No sooner does it cease than a brass
band—a eltaranga, as it is expressively called—
strikes up the liana, the reveille. The next regi-
ment takes it up, and the next, and the next, till
the whole camp is din and clamour. Harmony •
there is none ; infantry, cavalry, and artillery each
sound their own particular tune, and the three, each
of which alone would be pleasing. blend into ear-
splitting discord. Quick, high, sharp, no other
music, no roar of cannon, no uproar of any kind,
could so effectually achieve the purpose of awaking
people. The crash of the brass seems to strike into
the very inmost recess of the ear, to act upon every
fibre in one's frame, and not only to awaken, but to
force one to rise. It turns one out of bed as effectually
as a pail of cold water on a frosty morning. Up you '
jump, as if galvanized, and, as an indispensable pre-
liminary to moving in the close packed tent., the
servants are summoned te'clear away the beds or
such substitutes for them as there may be. These
obstacles to egress removed, and on the principle
that a plunge is less trying than gradual entrance,
you rush out of the tent in the attire in which you
hare slept, which is generally pretty nearly the
same in which you passed the previous day. It is
as good as a cold douche, and most effectually
removes any slight- somniferous cobwebs the abo-
minable blasts G f the brazen musicians may have
left about your eyes and brain. The stars are
shining brightly ; 'the moon casts her broad clear
light over sea and mountain ; here and there in the
difflment camps and guards waiehtires are still
blazing, the figures of the soldiers around them
standing out dark against the flame ; down in the
bend of the coast south of Ceuta a steamer floats
motionless and seemingly deserted; a few officers
on guard, or early rising aides-de-camp,pace rapidly
up and down, wrapped in their cloaks, and with
cigars in their mouths, looking grim and blue ;
servants are already hurrying about lighting finis
in their alfresco kitchens to prepare their masters'
early cup of chocolate or tea; here stands my luxu-
rious friend, he of the Sybarite bed, in the flannel
trousers and jacket iu whisk he habitually s Jeeps,
looking as if he were going out to play at cricket,
and with a fur cap on his head as if he had just
returned from a visit to the Esquimaux. He seems
to find it more chilly than pleasant, for he quickly
vanishes again beneath the Edgington marquee,
shouting for Antonio and hot water. And, as a little
of this temperature is enough, you soon follow his
example, the tent, which you were cursing for its
coldness ten minutes ago, now seems delightfully
warm, a perfect conservatory in comparison with
the outer air ; and you proceed to struggle against
the difficulties inseparable from dressing 'by the
light of a single candle or dint lamp, and of shaving
with water just a quarter of a degree above the
freezing point—if shave you do, which many here do
not, or do it bat rarely—and you, probably, while
going through these unpleasant operations, heap •
maledictions upon your- own head for ever having
been idiot enough to be tempted by hope of glory, or
love of lucre, or an Irish penchant for fighting or a
truant disposition, or any other inducement wriatso- .
ever,to come out to Barbary in the winter season and
associate yourself with such an insane, Quixotic
business as this crusade against the infidel. By
the time you are dressed, however, and have swal-
lowed that minute calker of brandy as protection
against the morning mist, or to keep off the cholera,
or because your doctor recommends it, or perhaps
merely because you like it—and smoked that media-
regalia, and washed as well ste_you can in a tent 11
feet square at the base, andltt which three persons
sleep, and inveighed a little (of course 'without ex-
pletion) against those fellows who sat smoking so
late last night, and converted your horsehair mat
into an ashbox and spittoon, you find on looking
out that the sky is brightening and the stars are
gradually fading away, and there are red streaks in
the East and good promise of a fine day. Where-
upon you begin to feel blander, and less disposed
brutally to assault the first fellow-creature who
comes in your way, and you say a civil word to the
young aide-de-camp whom you lately consigned to
the keeping of the Evil One merely because, poor
fellow, he stands six feet one in his stockings, and
has a habit of always getting
.in your way, and you
suspend your savage sarcasms upon him of the
flannel breeks and Capuan couch, and begin to won-
der whether there will be any letters for you by '
the morning post, and whether the Moritos (little
Moors, as they are here affectionately termed) will
afford any sport that day, or whether they will re-
main in their earths and sulk, and you order your
horse to be in readiness to go into Ceusa, or out to
the lines, as circumstances may dictate. And so
each day passes, with little to vary the monotony
of skirmishing, shiftmaking, and speculating as to
1 the coming events of the campaign. .

DEC. 17.

Just after 12 o'clock last night firing was heard
upon our extreme left. There was a pretty general
turn out of officers, although here, at headquar-
ters, we are a long way off, and there could be no
immediate menace to us. So the troops were left
quiet. On stepping out of my tent, wishing any-
thing but good to the restless Moors who thus
added to the difficulty, already not small of getting
a good night's rest, I saw• the bright flashes of small
arms spangling the darkness at two points of the
front of Ros do Olano's camp, one looking towards
the mountains and the other down by the beach.
The firing, however, lasted but a very short time,
and may possibly not have proceeded frsm the
Moors at all, but from our own outposts under the
influence of a false alarm. That corps has only just
arrived, and the men are quite new to the work.
Such alarms, however, are not without their uses,
as accustoming the soldier to the more serious ones
he may hereafter have. At the same time the out-
posts should be cautioned against firing until they
are sure there is a sufficient cause, for the army has
plenty to fatigue it without having its sleep un-
necessarily broken.
This morning all is quiet as yet (10 o'clock), but
the skirmishes do not in general begin quite so
early, the Moritos apparently thinking that six
hours' activity (from 11 till 5) is sufficient. We have
as yet had five skirmishes, two, at least, of which
may merit the name of little combats. The dates
arc the 25th and 30th of November, and the 9th,
12th, 15th of December. I do not reckon the trfiing
affairs that took place within the first five days of
the landing of the first corps under General Echague
who is now, I am glad to say, nearly well of his
wound, and was out with the Staff on the 15th. I
have not the exact number of our losses, but they
cannot be less than 1,200 killed and wounded. They
are published regularly and pretty correctly in the
Madrid papers. In the affair of the 15th seven
officers were wounded besides three or four con-
tused. The wounded, I learn from the doctors, were
under 100, but from what I saw I should think the
proportion of killed rather larger than usual.
This is a gray cold day, and I fear the weather
is sickening for rain. It feels almost cold enough
for snow, but I believe that 'hardly ever falls here,
except on the mountains.

WEDDING AMONGST RUINS.—On Monday
week, at ten o'clock, a bride and bridegroom made their
appearance at the front gates of the old Bethnal-green
Church, London to bo married ; aud, to their great dis-
may, found nothing remaining of the church but the bare
walls, not having beard of the fire by which the church
has been destroyed. They then went round to the rectory-
house, where they were kindly received by thecurate, who
proceeded to the ruins and wedded the happy pair on the
spot where the vestry-room formerly stood.