the 23rd, so as to arrive at the Carrion by daylight on the 24th, force the bridge, and fall upon the main body of Soult's troops. But on the evening of the 23rd, trustworthy intelligence was received that the whole French armies from various parts of Spain were in movement to crush the British. Among the converging forces 60,000 men and 150 guns, having fifteen days' provisions in carts, were reviewed on the 19th by the Emperor at Madrid, and on the evening of the 22nd 50,000 of them were at the foot of the Guadarama Mountains. Deep snow choked the pass, and after twelve hours of ineffectual toil their general reported the road impracticable; but Napoleon, rebuking him fiercely, personally urged on the columns, and the passage was effected amidst storms of hail and sleet, the cold and fatigue so intense that many soldiers and draft animals died during the two days the operation lasted. On the 26th Napoleon was at Tordesillas. "If the British pass to-day in their position they are lost," he wrote; but Sir John Moore had become well aware that his position was untenable; without the aid of the Spanish armies, he would soon have been surrounded by the overwhelming legions of France. He had, however, gained the political object of saving Andalusia by drawing the French power on himself.

Notwithstanding his rapid march, having scarcely rested night or day, Napoleon was twelve hours too late; the British were across the Esla! Their heavy baggage and stores were moved to the rear, but the reserve, the Light Brigade and cavalry, remained at Sahagun, pushing their patrols up to the enemy's lines, and skirmishing to hide the retrograde march. On the 24th General Hope with two divisions fell back by Mayorga, and General Baird by Valencia de San Juan, where was a ferry-boat over the Esla, which he crossed on the 26th, and took post on the other side. Moore with the reserve and light brigades followed Hope's column to Valderas.

which were slighter, and many of the prisoners' horses had sore backs. Many of the prisoners' feet were frost-bitten, but those whose wounds were slight danced and amused themselves grinning through the windows at the Spaniards, who would have killed them but for the British guard. They were attended to as well as our own men. "The Town of Sahagun" is now the regimental song of the 15th Hussars, and is sung on the anniversary in memory of this exploit.

Sergeant Robertson's Journal gives some account of the particular movements of the 92nd since we left them at the Escurial, from which quarter they resumed their route for Valladolid, crossed the Guadarama Pass, where, on the top of one of the mountains which divide the provinces of Old and New Castile, the figure of a lion is placed holding a ball in its paw. They descended into Old Castile, but diverged from the road to Valladolid, as the French were advancing by that way towards Madrid. So little information had the British, that the French advanced guard was in sight before they were aware of its approach. In the evening they reached a village, the Alcalde (or Mayor) of which came with the inhabitants to light them in with torches, and they were put into a monastery for the night. The Fathers, with the kindest intentions, lighted the charcoal stoves to warm them, and some of the soldiers, not understanding their management, were nearly suffocated, but recovered on being carried to the open air. The battalion continued its march to Alba de Tormes, where they halted; while here they heard the report that they were surrounded by the French, and were to commence a retreat into Portugal. This report was contradicted, but as the men had no map, they did not know whether they were advancing or retiring. Continuing their movement towards Burgos, they met at Toro a party of dragoons belonging to General Baird's Division lately arrived from Corunna, who had just had a skirmish with the enemy, and had taken some waggons of stores which they were escorting.

On December 24th some of the sergeants had an exciting adventure at Villada, where they had been sent on in advance of the battalion to draw billets. On entering the little town they found it occupied by a patrol of French cavalry. Sergeants did not carry firearms; there were only six or seven of them armed with their pikes and claymores. Like true soldiers they never thought of retiring to wait till the troops came up, but adding Scotch caution to British bravery, they went warily. It was market-day, and the town full of people, who did not know to which side the Highlanders belonged, so all was quiet on their part. Finding that the Frenchmen, unaware that any Britishers were within miles, were regaling themselves in

a wine house, their horses being tied to the rings which were, and in parts of the Continent still are, commonly placed in the wall for that purpose, the plucky sergeants, quietly keeping the side of the causeway, reached the tavern; and it was only when they had the bridles in their hands that the astonished dragoons, hearing some noise, looked out to find their steeds in the possession of men in feathered bonnets and kilts!

The Frenchmen had their carbines with them, but the sergeants "took the first word o' flytin'," rushed in and disarmed them; and though a few hurried shots and many oaths were discharged at them, none of them were hurt, and they took the patrol-a N.-C. officer and five privates— prisoners with their horses. When the Spaniards saw what they had done, they seemed frantic with joy, and gave the sergeants anything they liked, bringing them warm gloves, as it was very cold.

When the troops came up to Villada on the 24th, they were much fatigued on account of the state of the roads, which were deeply covered with snow. The men were ordered to clean themselves, as they were expected to halt for some time; but all of a sudden, the same evening, they were ordered to fall in in marching order. Columns were formed outside the town, ready for the expected engagement. It was a beautiful moonlight night, but so cold that they could only keep warm by walking about till morning, but every heart beat high with the thought that we were to measure arms with the great Napoleon. The notion entertained by the British army was, that the great victories gained by him had been over raw and undisciplined troops. Every man felt confident of his own prowess when compared with a French soldier's, and nothing was more earnestly wished than an opportunity of engaging, and an order for battle."

Such being the spirit of the British rank and file, one can imagine their surprise and mortification when a Staff officer arrived with an order to prepare to return to England. All the horrors of a retreat of several hundred miles over bad roads in winter weather appeared to their minds. All ranks

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called out to stop and fight and not to run away (as we termed it), which would be a disgrace to the British army."* The troops were in the highest state of vigour and spirits, and an unbroken series of brilliant successes at the outposts had given rise to an unbounded confidence in their own prowess, likely to have produced glorious results, if not met by overwhelming odds. But they were not aware, as their general was, that such absolutely overwhelming odds were against them.

By this timely retreat Sir John Moore reached Benevente, and the hazardous operation of crossing the swollen torrent of the Esla, over planks laid across the broken arches of the bridge of Castro, was successfully performed in the dark by General Crawford with the rear guard, not, however, without fighting, in which the Chasseurs of the Imperial Guard rode close up to the bridge, and captured some women and baggage. Instances occurred of great bravery and devotion on the part of soldiers of the rear guard. Napier tells of two. John Walton and Richard Jackson were posted in a hollow road beyond the bridge, at a distance from their picket. If the enemy approached, one was to fire and run back to give notice if they were few or many; the other was to maintain his ground. A party of cavalry following a hay-cart stole close up to these men and suddenly galloped in with a view to kill them and surprise the post; Jackson fired, but was overtaken and received twelve or fourteen wounds in an instant; he came staggering on notwithstanding his mangled state and gave the signal. Walton, with equal resolution and better fortune, defended himself with his bayonet, and wounded several of his assailants, who retreated leaving him unhurt; but his cap and knapsack, his belts and his musket, were cut in about twenty places, his bayonet was bent double, his musket notched like a saw from the muzzle to the lock. Jackson escaped death during the retreat, and finally recovered of his wounds.

Again, at Benevente several thousand infantry slept in the long galleries of an immense convent; the lower corridors were filled with the horses of the cavalry and artillery, so thickly packed that it was scarcely possible for a single man

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to pass between them, and there was but one entrance. officers returning from the bridge, being desirous to find shelter for their men, entered the convent, and perceived with horror that a large window shutter being on fire and the flames spreading to the rafter above, in a few minutes the straw under the horses would ignite, and 6000 men and animals would inevitably perish in the flames. One of the officers (Captain Lloyd of the 43rd), a man of great activity and presence of mind, made a sign to his companion to keep silent, and springing on to the nearest horse, ran along the backs of the others till he came to the flaming shutter, which he tore off its hinges and threw out of the window; then, returning quietly, awakened some of the soldiers and cleared the passage without creating any alarm, which, in such a case, would have been as destructive as the flames.*

The army remained two days at Benevente, and as few of the stores collected there could be removed, after supplying the immediate wants of the troops the rest was destroyed.

Meanwhile the 92nd, with Hope's Division, had commenced their retreat on Christmas Day, and marched by Mayorga, where, arriving after dark, they found the doors and windows barricaded by the inhabitants, who would not let the men in or sell them food. Irritated by such inhospitality on

a winter night, they broke open the doors, and so frightened the people that the news, spreading from village to village, had a bad effect on the feeling of the country people towards them. Spanish enthusiasm, in the north at any rate, had evaporated, says Dr Neales; the people of Mayorga would render no assistance, and were too ignorant to know why we were in the country.

At Valderas they were put in a convent, and no one was allowed to go out. At Benevente they lay where they could on the stairs and passages of the great convent described above. Here they got a supply of shoes and blankets, and hardly had they marched, when the rear and baggage guards were skirmishing with the enemy's cavalry; "but," says Sergeant Robertson, "when they came on, our dragoons showed that though retreating, it was not from fear."

* Napier, and "Life of a Sergeant."