There were three captains billeted in the same house as myself, and amongst them a Captain ——, who, on the morning of the fight, left the field and took to his bed. The doctor, on visiting him, under the idea that he really was wounded, could discover, however, neither the least scratch, nor even bruise. This got wind, and naturally enough caused a stir amongst his brother officers, and the Captain was obliged to resign. But he had formerly been in the service of Don Pedro, and found a friend and powerful advocate in the person of his old chieftain, through whose interest he regained his captaincy, and, to the surprise and indignation of the chief part of the officers, actually in a few days attained a majority, and had the order of San Fernando conferred on him. Two officers of the Rifles also bought the same honour, at the price of a dozen of champagne. But this last was through the then acting Commander of the regiment. The Spanish Government, with their profusion of honours and pewter, also paid the officers their arrears up to the month of March, 1836, in bills on Colonel Carbonel, in London, at the time payable on delivery; the last and only payment ever made during the service—the officers having been obliged to manage on their field-allowance. About this time we were joined by a number of convalescents from Vittoria, consisting of officers and men. My old friend, Captain Plunkett, came with them. This veteran soldier, who had formerly served in the 60th Rifles, and was now on half-pay, by an apathy generally evinced to those of the British service, found himself spurned and deserted by the chief part of the officers of our regiment, who were, as before stated, almost entirely composed of Pedroites. He was, at this period, very poor, and was constantly seen in the market-place, selling his necessaries to procure the little requisites of an invalid. But through want and neglect he at last got a relapse, and took to his bed. In this extremity all he had was disposed of. But for my accidentally noticing his servant selling his first, and now the last, resource of a soldier, _his sword!_ he might have died unnoticed. I hobbled, however, as well as I could, to his quarters, and was only in time to witness his expiring agonies. Poor Plunkett, strange to say, was the creditor of the Spanish Government to the amount of one hundred and fifty pounds though he died actually through want.