[Sidenote: A MARCH IN FLOOD.] On the morning of the 3rd, taking nearly an opposite direction to that of Medina, the army moved towards Vejer. This day’s march was excessively harassing. A causeway, along which we must pass, was constructed over the edge of a lake; and the heavy rains had so swollen the waters that not a vestige of the causeway was perceptible. Our guides were guerillas, but imperfectly acquainted with the place; and thus many of our men in attempting the passage fell into the deep. Even along the causeway, when discovered, we were up to our middle in water; the track was marked by placing men on the submerged road. The British general with his staff stood in the water to guide and animate the soldiers during their aquatic movement. Having passed this obstacle, which occupied much time, we pushed on to Vejer, from which we dislodged the enemy there posted. The town is built on a high conical hill looking down on the celebrated Bay of Trafalgar, where every breast was filled with thoughts of the immortal Nelson. From this eminence the enemy had a full view of the surrounding country, and not only could discover all our movements as we approached, but, as on the preceding day when we were passing the convent, were enabled to ascertain our exact strength. On the afternoon of the 4th, about three o’clock, the army again moved forward, before the men’s clothing and appointments were dry. General Graham, previous to leaving Tarifa, requested La Peña to make short marches, and thus bring the troops fresh into action. But the Spanish general, as is common with the weak, imagining that genius was marked by diversity of opinion and mistaking mulish obstinacy for unshaken determination, disregarded this sound advice. He acted on the principle of differing from the British general in everything; and accordingly he marched the army for sixteen hours, the greater part of the time during a cold night, making frequent momentary halts, which always tend to harass rather than refresh troops. On the dawn of the 5th our advanced guard of cavalry (Spanish) were encountered and worsted by a few French dragoons; the affair was trifling, yet its moral influence was sensibly felt throughout the day. Cold, wearied, dejected but not disheartened, we still moved forward, until the sun, rising with unusual splendour and genial warmth, dissipated the drowsiness, which but a moment previously bowed down every head, and roused us to wonted animation. On opening our eyes to broad daylight, we found ourselves on the south-west skirts of Chiclana plain. [Sidenote: LETTER OF LA PEÑA.]