Early the next morning the piquets were called in, and Lieutenant-Colonel Beckwith's Brigade ordered to cross the river and attack the enemy. The river was rapid and at the ford took me to the waist. I fully expected the enemy would have greeted our approach with grape-shot and shells, but they suffered us to pass unmolested. As soon as the Rifle Men crossed, they extended and moved up the steep hills, covered with mountain heath and brushwood. On approaching the summit of the first chain of heights, the enemy commenced skirmishing. By this time the 43rd Light Infantry and Caçadores had joined us. The enemy were driven from one chain of hills to another for two miles, when suddenly, on gaining the top of a third chain of hills, our whole line in skirmishing order came in contact with seven columns of French. The company I was leading on pounced upon a column, and, owing to the situation of the ground, came literally within twenty yards of it before we could see it. Guess my astonishment! The most hideous yelling assailed my ears (the same in every direction of our line), the French drumming, shaking their bayonets, and calling out "Long life to the Emperor Napoleon." Luckily the ground was thinly patched with stout trees, which afforded our men good shelter in retiring. Nothing could intimidate our brave fellows, retiring and keeping up a hot and destructive fire upon the enemy's close column so as to annoy them very materially. I now began to think we were always to have ill-luck on the banks of this infernal river, but fortune, under many circumstances, favours the brave. Colonel Beckwith rode along the line in the most cool and gallant style, cautioning the men to be steady, knowing well that if we maintained our ground for one hour or so we should have two or three Divisions of our army to our support, and that if we did not keep our ground the whole Brigade would be drowned or bayoneted. As our Division had so recently driven about 500 French into a river and drowned them, the same way of retorting to the joke would have been delightful to the enemy. We retired very steadily about fifty yards into a deep valley, the French firing from a great number of cannon, throwing grape and shells, which splintered the trees and naturally killed several men. Finding the enemy did not advance farther, the Colonel formed part of the 43rd Regiment, our little line of skirmishers moving up at the same time and making a desperate attack upon a gun that was keeping up a very destructive fire. Every one near the gun was bayoneted or shot. We were driven back, attacked again, but were again obliged to retire, when luckily the other part of our Division moved up, and the gun was ours. Colonel Beckwith on the second attack, had his horse's side pierced by a grape-shot; a bullet hit him slightly on the eyebrow; as he wiped the blood away he called out, "My brave lads, I am no worse; follow me." General