The morning we left Plaisance we had a long and dreary march over a range of hills, until we came to the village of Tarbes, a short distance beyond which we observed the enemy in possession of a hill both sides of the road to Toulouse. We were immediately ordered to commence an attack upon them. Passing on at the “double,” some of our regiments of cavalry gave us an encouraging huzza as we passed up the road. The French had thrown up strong entrenchments, and were, to use a nautical phrase, “tier above tier.” I never remember to have been so warmly engaged as on this occasion, except at Badajoz. The enemy were in great numbers, our attacking force few, being only our three battalions of Rifles which their bullets were fast thinning as we struggled up the hill: still, although under every disadvantage, the victors of so many hard fights were not to be repelled, and the French were obliged to retreat. I was very sorry this day for striking a poor Frenchman whom I came up with, as I discovered he was badly wounded; but I made the _amende honorable_ by a sup from my canteen, which he received with grace. We saw but little of the enemy after this, until we came within sight of Toulouse, where they seemed determined on a resolute stand. We took up our cantonments on this side of the Garonne in the beginning of April. The aspect of the country here was very agreeable: it abounded in wine of a rather superior quality to what had hitherto been served out as our rations. Although the inhabitants, from Marshal Soult’s orders, had been obliged to fly on our approach, yet, I am happy to say that our men were restrained from most of those excesses in the waste and destruction of property, that had taken place in Portugal and Spain. This was greatly occasioned by the very excellent general order of Lord Wellington, published throughout the army at that period, explaining to the troops that although we were at war with an usurper and his army, we were not with the inoffensive country-people, who were subjected by fear. About twelve o’clock on the night of the 9th of April we were ordered to fall in. We marched to the side of the Garonne, which we crossed by means of a pontoon bridge, and took up our station behind the walls of a château about a mile from the town. Having had scarcely any rest the preceding night, most of our men were buried in profound sleep, when we were suddenly roused by the most expressive words to the ear of a soldier—“Fall in.” This was done in an instant, and we were ordered to advance in double time.