“He that is truly delicate to war Hath no self-love; nor he, that loves himself, Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valour.” The next day the town was to be attacked. Our men were all on the fidget to know the result, and every tree and hillock within sight or hearing of the scene was taken possession of. At about twelve o’clock, A. M., the breaches were assaulted, and the place carried after a severe contest. Three or four hundred French, unable from the great rains to ford the Bidassoa, charged fiercely upon one of our companies, and another of the second battalion, then posted at the bridge of Vera. After a sanguinary struggle they effected their purpose, and escaped. They were the remnant of the French troops that had forded the river in the morning, and whom our Spanish force distinguished themselves in repulsing. After this we remained quiet for several days in our camp ground. It was about this time that those men of the 52nd, who were fortunate enough to have survived the “forlorn-hope” of Rodrigo and Badajoz, were distinguished with a badge of laurel on the right arm. It was given by their commanding officer as a testimonial of their gallant conduct, which was expressed by the two letters V. S. or “valiant stormer” placed beneath the wreath. Why the men of our battalion and those of the 43rd, who had equally distinguished themselves on those occasions were not similarly honoured, I know not. For my own part, all I ever received in the way of reward, for my services as a stormer, was the sum of six dollars. This was after the taking of Badajoz. In the French service, those men who volunteered in the ranks of “Les enfants perdus” were always first in the list for commissions, and were distinguished also by a cross of the Legion of Honour, which was so respected amongst their countrymen, that even their comrades were always obliged to salute him who wore it. How must the heart of those thus distinguished beat at the possession of such a mark. How different is the case of the British soldier! This “hope” in his country remains unnoticed, and he quits its service “equally forlorn” for obscurity without distinction, save that which points him out with his empty sleeves, or wooden stump limping his way to Chelsea. Some, perhaps, may argue that an improvement took place at Waterloo. That may be, if we allude to those, who on that occasion, performed their first and last military feat, and came away unscathed. How “pleasant” then must it be to the old Peninsulars, whose battles fought and won outnumber perhaps the men of their company, to see whole squads of Waterloos strutting about with medals dangling on jackets which, as their first and last, had scarcely been on long enough to collect the dust of a “donkey’s trot.”