We continued to occupy the same spot the whole of the following day, waiting very anxiously for the promised supply of rations; one day’s rations, however, to our exceeding joy, made their appearance in the evening of the 16th. The following being the morning of St. Patrick’s Day, the whole of our battalion, English and Irish, duly celebrated the event by a proper attention to greens, and not having shamrocks, leaves, grass and boughs of trees were substituted: thus ornamented we commenced our march. Just before we arrived at the river Caira, the waters of which flowed over the body of many an unfortunate French soldier, we came upon a sight which was enough to make the “Humane Society,” declare eternal war against the men of the wooden shoes. This was some two or three hundred donkeys and mules, which the enemy, unable to drive off, had maimed and hamstrung. The poor animals looked up to us as if for vengeance, and every mute appeal was sternly fulfilled, for they struck home to the feelings of us all. We continued our march for about two leagues, when the battalion halted upon a hill covered with pine-trees. At the bottom of this and near our advanced posts, flowed the river Alva, on the opposite side of which the retreating army lay encamped. We had halted, and refreshed ourselves, with the notion that we should spend the night there quietly, but we were doomed to be miserably undeceived, as a fresh order was given for us to fall in, the artillery coming up, and commenced playing on the enemy’s masses, and our division was ordered to cross the river. Lord Wellington certainly was determined to allow the French no rest if possible, and indeed, if truth be added, ourselves as little. A pontoon was thrown over the river for the division to cross, while others forded the stream a little higher up on our right. The enemy retired in excellent order, and we pursued until both halted for the night. The place we occupied was a little village called Melo, where we remained during the following day, having had one ration only for the last four days. Never let it be said that John Bull cannot fight upon an empty stomach. If ever one division of our army proved this more than another, I certainly think it was the light one. _Light_ enough we were at this and at other periods, Heaven knows. While thus impelled by hunger, myself and Wilkie searching about for something to devour, proceeded down a lane, where we came upon the body of an elderly woman. She was lying in the middle of the road, dressed in white, and, from the hands being bound together in a praying attitude, and the general appearance of the corpse, it was evident that she had been taken out for the purpose of burial, as it is the custom in that country to inter them in full dress, and without a coffin: the arrival of the French no doubt had obliged her attendants to abandon her.