Villar de Ciérvos, Spain, _30th April 1810_. Dear Father—You will wonder, I suppose, at my sending one letter after another in this way, as I wrote you so recently from Reygada in Portugal. I had the other day a long letter from my friend Maud. I answered it the following day. He is in high health. I gave him all my news, ending the letter, as usual, with advice. He has been stationed for some time at Portalegre in Portugal, an exceeding good town, while I have been traversing the country for months, not staying more than a day or two in a place, and sleeping in tents or churches. For the last two months back we have been stationed so near the enemy we durst not take off our shoes. The weather has all along been very bad, continually raining or snowing. I am in hopes it will soon clear up. The other day I was posted on a bleak rock from four o'clock in the morning till one after noon before I was relieved, and got famously ducked; but I derived this advantage—it gave me a keen appetite for my breakfast, which my servant has provided for me in style—four eggs, roast fowl, and plenty of tea. We have no certainty as to meals, sometimes we dine at two o'clock, and other times at ten at night. In our company we have three mules and an ass to carry our provisions and wine, which, when we move about, we carry in deer skins. This day I marched four leagues under a continuous torrent of rain. I am now under tolerable shelter, sitting drying my trousers over a fire of wood upon the ground, and am in a very ill-humour, having burnt the leather which encircles the bottoms. I have my jacket off and a blanket round me until my jacket and shirt are dried. I am so much accustomed to get wet I think little about it. For some time the French had been stationed about eight leagues from us, but lately they made a move and menaced Ciudad Rodrigo, but not having sufficient cannon, they were obliged to retire for the present. I saw a fine puff in the English papers treating upon the bravery of the garrison (how John Bull is gagged!) Depend upon it the French have much greater influence with the Spaniards than the English. All the Spanish soldiers I have seen look more like banditti than soldiers. We always know when the French are near—they, the Spaniards, run away in every direction. Our soldiery hate to see them. The Portuguese are much superior in appearance. We shall soon try their composition in the first battle. The enemy marched to San Felices, which caused us to advance upon Bouza (our regiment only). The other part of the Light Brigade continued in the rear, occupying villages, waiting ready to advance in case we required their assistance.