About this time an order came from Madrid, for the whole of the men to be paid up to the last day of November, 1835; this was the only settlement that Captains of companies had with the paymaster, until the dissolution of the Legion. After remaining in this town about three weeks, the Legion marched for Vittoria, leaving two large hospitals crowded with sick. The morning of our departure was exceedingly inclement, and those who witnessed our march from Breviesca, will not readily forget the scene that presented itself. The ground was covered with snow; such of the sick as could not be accommodated in the hospitals, in the absence of every other conveyance, were mounted upon donkeys, supported on each side by their comrades, and enveloped in old rugs, watch-coats and blankets, as a protection against the inclemency of the season. As this spectre group moved along in sad and melancholy procession, their gaunt appearance produced a strong sensation upon the troops, as they passed them on the line of march. The Englishman commented on their worn and wretched appearance, and commiserated their sufferings; while the calculating Scotchman anticipated that before long, such probably might be their own fate. But an Irishman roared out from the ranks, “Prepare to receive cavalry!” and then making a full stop, and scratching his head, as he deliberately surveyed, with a serio-comic expression of countenance, the melancholy cavalcade of invalids, exclaimed, with a significant nod to his comrades, “By Jasus, boys, there’s no danger, they are quietly marching to tother world!” After going through the romantic pass of Pancorbo, we halted for the night in a mountain village, on the left of the main road. My company was told off to two houses, and as I ever made it a rule to visit the men’s quarters after a day’s march, I found in one of their billets, the patrone and two of his children laying dead, huddled together on some Indian corn-leaves, with an old blanket thrown over them, and the unfortunate mother in another corner of the room weeping most bitterly, with an infant in her arms, without fire, or any other thing to comfort her. It appeared, from the forlorn widow’s statement, that her husband was pressed by the Carlists for a soldier. Being fond of his children he deserted, and remained secreted until he died from want. We collected a small sum for her, and I got the children interred. The next day, at about two o’clock, we came in sight of the city of Vittoria; its towers slowly emerging to the view as we neared it over the plains.