IN pursuance of the intention of the Spanish Government that the auxiliaries should winter and complete their military discipline in Vittoria or Breviesca, on the 30th of October, 1835, the Legion, in conjunction with a division under Espartero, commenced its march to those places. It was well known that at this period the enemy were anticipating our movements and intended destination, and learning that our route would be on the Durango road, they posted themselves in great strength to give us a warm reception. The formidable attitude of the Carlists, however, induced General Evans to abandon this direct line of march upon Vittoria, not more than twelve leagues distant, and to take a more circuitous, and almost pathless route, of sixty leagues, over a difficult and mountainous district. The main body of the Legion started about six in the morning, but the whole had not quitted till late at noon, when closed in upon their rear by the Guerillas and Carlist peasantry. They became separated from the baggage, which, but for the contiguity of Bilboa, would have been all taken. The consequence was, that almost the whole returned, and was supposed to have been placed under the care of the British Consul and the Alcalde of the city, who, in conjunction with a few others, actively employed, may be said to have originated the plunder which subsequently devoured almost all the luggage of the Legion officers; quantities without lists, or any regular accounts, having been indiscriminately heaped in stores, and thence as carelessly embarked for Santander. Meanwhile, on the second day’s march, we came to Castro, where, as we expected to meet the enemy, my company was selected to form a rear-guard in the event of the Carlists attacking our rear. Near the town, as expected, a number of the Guerillas, who were always on the look-out, fired on our rear sections, and a poor fellow of the Westminster Grenadiers, who through fatigue had straggled from his regiment, was shot through the thigh. I instantly started a few old soldiers after them, who very soon put them to flight. This was the first time that I had heard the whistle of a Carlist ball. I then placed the wounded soldier on my pony till we arrived at Castro, where we halted for the night. We found this place to be a wretchedly filthy hole; a sea-port on the Bay of Biscay, and then occupied by two regiments, and some artillery of the Queen’s troops.