At daybreak the next morning, we left Castro, and after an advance of five or six miles, a Spanish officer who had been riding rapidly to overtake us, informed the General that the enemy were again advantageously posted, and in great strength, awaiting our arrival a few miles further on. On this intelligence we were again ordered to the right-about. However, my company, who were on the advance in the morning with some Lancers, received orders from General Reid to remain where we were, until the main body had reached the bottom of a hill, about two miles distant; but expecting to see the Carlists fast advancing upon us, I thought it more prudent to follow in quick time, with the Lancers behind us. We remained for the night in the small villages round Castro. The next day’s march was a very harassing one. Our route led over high mountains, with scarcely a path, and almost unknown even to our guides; however, for my own part, this was compensated for by one of the most majestic pieces of scenery I ever beheld. The country around us was beautifully romantic; the Bay of Biscay, from our elevated position, appearing but a short distance off, while the clouds which encircled that part in our view, kept circling upwards and throwing a reflection on the serene surface of the sea, that seemed almost enchanting. At the entrance of a small village on the hill just mentioned, the rifle of a Sergeant Johnson, of my company, while on trail, went off, and shot a man named Neal, the ball entering at the back and passing out at the groin. We conducted him to a house where, for want of conveyance, we were obliged to leave him to the mercy of the mountain peasantry; this poor fellow, strange to say, was brother to the man who, the night of our landing, had been shot by the sentry at Portugaletta. They were both fine young men, and deserved a better fate. At night, after a fatiguing march, the brigade as usual was quartered in a damp church. The day following we proceeded on our march, but a great deal of anxiety was experienced lest a celebrated pass (Las Goras) which we had to advance upon, should be occupied by the enemy. About four o’clock we arrived, but found it in possession of the Queen’s troops, and for the first time, we bivouacked in a wood. The next morning the harassed and jaded condition of the men was so evident, that we could not proceed until several bullock-carts had been procured. On the following morning we continued our march for several days, till we arrived at the banks of the river Ebro, the scene of many of my former campaigns. After passing the bridge the prospect became beautifully varied, the Ebro silently meandering in its serpentine course, through a broad and fertile valley, at the base of a chain of mountains which, verging towards the Mediterranean, were here and there dotted with villages and lonely cottages, the scattered husbandmen quietly occupied in the tillage of their fields.