While endeavouring to obtain shelter, Lord Wellington rode up, and knowing the chief business of the day had fallen upon our brigade, he ordered us into the town. We arrived just in time to prevent the fifth division from supplanting us, and they consequently were obliged to retrace their steps, which they did with much grumbling and discontent. It was dark before we got into the house appropriated to us. Myself and one or two others turned into a small square room, the floor of which was covered with straw. Though wetted through to the skin I soon fell into a sound sleep, but was, however, quickly awakened by a hurried exclamation from a man who had just entered the room with a light. On looking around for the cause of his surprise, I beheld a stiff and naked corpse placed upright against the walls of the room, brutally defaced; at the same moment, and in the act of turning, I placed my hand on the clammy features of another body, partly concealed under the straw, and across which I had actually been sleeping; we found four bodies altogether, evidently Portuguese, and all of them bearing the usual proofs of French retaliation. The next day Massena evacuated Portugal, with the exception of Almeida, and in a short time we ourselves crossed the frontiers and took up our old quarters at Gallegos; here we found many of our acquaintances of the preceding year, and the enemy having retired upon Ciudad Rodrigo, we were suffered for a while to recruit our strength. Some weeks after our arrival at Gallegos, the battalion had orders to prepare for marching at an hour’s notice, and to leave their knapsacks behind. This was announced by Colonel Beckwith on the afternoon parade, who, at the same time, desiring those who were sick or weakly to fall out, as a forced march was to be undertaken to prevent the French throwing supplies into Rodrigo. On hearing this several skulkers in the regiment fell out of the ranks, but were obliged to fall in again. Passing down the regiment, Colonel Beckwith, attracted by the evident looks of ill-health of a man named Burke, noted for his daring courage, very humanely advised him to remain behind, “For you look very ill, Burke,” said the Colonel. “No, Sir,” replied Burke, casting a look of contempt on the skulkers, “I certainly am not well, but I still have the heart of a man, and will keep up with my comrades as long as my legs will carry me.” The Colonel evinced a melancholy, but evident satisfaction, at this manly reply. “I am sorry,” said he, “that the sneaking propensities of others should compel a brave man to act against himself.” This brave fellow Burke was afterwards one of the forlorn hope at Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, and St. Sebastian, through the successive horrors of which he lived to fall mortally wounded at Quatre Bras, just previous to the battle of Waterloo.