carnage by which his triumph had been gained, he burst into tears, and wept like a child. The severity of Johnston's wound obliged him for a while to go to Scotland. On arriving home, he found the French prisoners who had been located in Sanquhar were having greatly too much freedom, and going beyond the prescribed area over which they were permitted to move. They were even being highly entertained in many of the better-class houses of the district, the hospitality thus given to them being sadly outraged in more than one instance. Johnston at once put a stop to all this, telling the people how differently he had learned how some of his friends had been treated who had the misfortune of falling into the enemy's hands as prisoners, and pointed out the gross licentiousness that was characteristic of the French army from the Emperor downwards. He further intimated that if this state of matters continued, he would have the Frenchmen shut up in jail, or perhaps shot for breaking their parole. The Frenchmen, who were officers, said they had had a good time in Sanquhar, "but since that young hero of Badajoz had come things were entirely changed." On becoming convalescent, Johnston returned to his regiment, and was able to share in the triumphs of Tarbes and Toulouse. The peace which followed gave him a short respite; and in the interval before the escape of Napoleon from Elba, he was again at Sanquhar. Mr Veitch of Eliock used to describe, with his usual impressiveness, a meeting which at this time took place in Eliock House between Johnston and Sir Sidney Beckwith, who commanded in the Peninsula the battalion of the Rifle Brigade in which the former was then a Captain. Both officers were invited to dinner, but without either having any knowledge of the other's presence, and Mr Veitch would dwell on the surprise, the delight, and the hearty hand-shaking that the two war-worn comrades indulged in on the occasion. The trumpet of war again sounded in 1815, and once more Johnston was at his post, with his blood flowing again, on the field of Quatre Bras on the 16th of June. His wound on that day, however, was not so severe as to oblige him to quit the field; and he had again the honour of shedding it yet more freely, when on the plains of Waterloo the Rifle Brigade formed a wing of the "Fighting Light Division," under the immortal Picton, who closed a glorious career, at the head of the division, in the greatest and most glorious of his country's battles. Johnston was promoted to a Majority in 1829, and continued to serve until the 2nd of August, 1831, when he retired on half-pay, with the intention of enjoying the slender fruits of his hard servitude in peace and quietness. But his active mind was ill-suited for a life of repose, and having been offered an appointment in the Colonial Magistracy in 1833, he proceeded in that capacity to the Cape of Good Hope, where for two years he continued to exercise the functions of his office in a manner which commanded the respect of everyone. In December, 1835, he was seized by a disease (enlargement of the heart) which rapidly caused a decline. He determined on returning to Scotland, but died, after being a week at sea, on the Athol troopship, on the 6th of April, 1836, the twenty-fourth anniversary of his greatest triumph-Badajoz. OLDEN HOSPITALITY IN NITHSDALE. In the Statistical Account of the Parish of Sanquhar," written by the Rev. William Ranken in 1793, mention is made of the almost continual flux and reflux of vagrants through Sanquhar—“ a thoroughfare for both ends of the kingdom," a state of affairs which, says the reverend scribe, acts as a strong corrosive on the morals of the people," and even at that time was deemed sufficiently serious to ask for the adoption of some effectual regulations for its suppression. Mr Ranken describes the Sanquhar people of his time as being hospitable to strangers and humane to the distressed; "but," he says, "there is no particular district of the country more infested than this with shoals of foreign beggars, and as there is no certain criterion by which to distinguish the seeming from the real objects of charity, it often happens that those belonging to the former tribe, by sly address, and by telling some strange tale of woe, impose upon the simple, and obtain that which ought to be applied to the relief of the native poor, and having obtained it, riot in the spoils." These remarks, penned a hundred and ten years ago, are equally applicable at the present day. The tramp nuisance shows no signs of abating, and there is certainly no improvement in the genus vagabundum. The gaberlunzie of the olden times had about him a certain air of the romantic that is entirely lacking in the modern tramp. In return for an awmous, the gaberlunzie was willing to entertain his benefactor with a ballad or some quaint bit of humour; he would unfold his budget of the latest news and country gossip-always welcome when newspapers were scarce—and, unlike his latter-day representative, was willing, when needed, to give a helping hand at the hay-making or assist in the harvest field. The beggar man was, therefore, a not unwelcome guest at many farm houses, and it is difficult in looking back to avoid a kindly feeling for a class to which belonged "the pawkie auld carle" so humorously depicted by King James the Fifth in the old song, where, to the farmer's daughter, with whom he eloped, he says: Wi' cauk and keel I'll win your bread, And spindles and whorles for them wha need, To carry the gaberlunzie on. While we shall be merry and sing." Vagrants in the olden days had, on the whole, a by no means despicable existence. It was no uncommon thing a hundred years ago for the lairds and farmers to entertain beggars with great kindness, giving them supper and breakfast, and a bed in one of the outhouses. Those of them who were cripple or blind were hospitably treated wherever they went, but at the same time they imposed a tax upon the charitable that in these days. would not be tolerated, for, in addition to giving them food and shelter, the families relieving them had to |