Lorrequer." When an author has the boys of England on his side, he
can laugh at the critics. Not that Lever laughed: he, too, was
easily vexed, and much depressed, when the reviews assailed him.
Next he began "Charles O'Malley"; and if any man reads this essay
who has not read the "Irish Dragoon," let him begin at once.
"O'Malley" is what you can recommend to a friend. Here is every
species of diversion: duels and steeplechases, practical jokes at
college (good practical jokes, not booby traps and apple-pie beds);
here is fighting in the Peninsula. If any student is in doubt, let
him try chapter xiv.--the battle on the Douro. This is, indeed,
excellent military writing, and need not fear comparison as art with
Napier's famous history. Lever has warmed to his work; his heart is
in it; he had the best information from an eye-witness; and the
brief beginning, on the peace of nature before the strife of men, is
admirably poetical.

To reach the French, under Soult, Wellesley had to cross the deep
and rapid Douro, in face of their fire, and without regular
transport. "He dared the deed. What must have been his confidence
in the men he commanded! what must have been his reliance on his own
genius!"

You hold your breath as you read, while English and Germans charge,
till at last the field is won, and the dust of the French columns
retreating in the distance blows down the road to Spain.

The Great Duke read this passage, and marvelled how Lever knew
certain things that he tells. He learned this, and much more, the
humours of war, from the original of Major Monsoon. Falstaff is
alone in the literature of the world, but if ever there came a later