Imagine, then, what must have been our feelings on the following morning (August 21st) when in almost a dead calm we moved slowly along, apparently rendered more slow by our plainly hearing the heavy booming of cannon, at that moment pouring forth their fury from the heights of Vimieiro. But they alone who have been in battle and cordially mingled in fight, can sympathise with the feelings which thrill through every nerve and agitate the frame of those who, all but in reach of the field, yet are withheld from participating in its glory. Intense excitement painfully marked the veteran’s contracted brow, while fiery impatience flashed in the eyes of the young soldiers. Creeping along the scarcely ruffled surface of the waters like wounded snakes or Alexandrine verse, we, seemingly in so many years, arrived in three days in the unquiet bay or roadstead of Peniche. Here, although the distant sea continued calm, still the surf so dashed against the shore that we found much difficulty in landing. When this at last was done, we immediately proceeded to unite with Sir Arthur Wellesley’s troops, whom we found still upon the ground, so late the theatre of their gallant exploits. This, our first march, although but of three leagues, was severely felt, since with the exception of a scramble over the rocks in the vicinity of Gottenborg harbour, we had been for upward of four months cooped up in miserable little transports. The men had scarcely the use of their limbs; and being so long unaccustomed to carry their packs, to which were now added three days’ provisions and sixty rounds of ball-cartridge, in this their first march, with the thermometer between ninety and a hundred, many were left behind and slowly followed after. The 4th or King’s Own Regiment, with whom we were then brigaded, from its seniority of number, marched in front. Although at the time perhaps the finest looking body of men in the Army, the select of three battalions, yet, being generally rather advanced in age as soldiers and heavy-bodied, they were on this day continually falling out of the ranks and flanking the road. This afforded an opportunity to one of our light hardy Irishmen (a class of which the 28th Regiment was then chiefly composed) to remark: “Faith! this is a very deceiving march; the royal milestones are so close to each other.” [Sidenote: HEAVY MARCHING ORDER.]