On my arrival, the first thing that caught my attention was a number of Spanish sentries posted round the different entrances and inside. On entering I beheld a miserable-looking group, seemingly belonging to the Legion. Anxious to see the Commandant whom I was to relieve, I found him in bed, in almost the last stage of fever; his name was Deacon, Captain of the 1st regiment; he had formerly been a Lieutenant in the British Marines. There were also, besides, several officers convalescent, and a number of men disabled through wounds, &c. But the major part of the inmates were composed of the 6th and 8th Scotch, to the number of two hundred and fifty—being the men who had laid down their arms at San Sebastian. The officer appointed to officiate during the Commandant’s illness, was the Quarter-master of the depôt, and one who might be well compared to a land-shark. I had scarcely left the sick Captain’s quarters, when one of the Rifles placed in my hand a small bit of paper written on with a pencil, and begging me to call at the guard-house and see their condition. I followed him immediately, and was proceeding to open the door, when an effluvium of the most fetid description obliged me to retire outside the building. I gave instant orders for the prisoners to come out, and fall in before me; and out came thirty-six of the most cadaverous-looking objects man ever beheld. The room from which they thronged, and their misery-stricken haggard forms and countenances, would have well typified the horrors of the Hole of Calcutta. It had been formerly used as a stable by the monks: the only window was now blocked up by the miserable beings to keep out the northern blast. Here, upon inquiry, I was informed they had been placed on nothing more or less than a speculation of the Quarter-master’s, who taking advantage of an order issued by Colonel Arbuthnot “to deprive all prisoners of their meat and wine,” had confined these invalids (for that they really were), and was in the habit of occasionally sending the proceeds and selling them at Santander: of this I afterwards found every proof. I, of course, immediately released the whole, ordering them to their rooms; and the next morning gave directions for every one to fall in, prisoners as well as invalids. It would be impossible to portray a faithful picture of the miserable creatures before me. They stood like beings just come out of the grave: their eyes sunk in their heads, and their countenances, with want, filth, and the confinement, hardly recognizable. Scarcely a dozen of them had even jackets or shirts, and not one either shoes or stockings, and many were covered only with a ragged rug. Their daily allowance had been a pound and a half of black bread, and water _ad libitum_; and if they strayed beyond the boundaries to get a little maize or Indian corn to eke out their miserable pittance, they had, perhaps, a leaden bullet from the Spanish sentry, to digest, for their temerity.