Sudden and utterly unexpected as the announcement was, Arnal’s face was the only one that showed scarcely any emotion. “Well,” he remarked to those around him, “I am quite ready.” A short time afterwards he sent for the pay-sergeant of the company he belonged to, from whom he received the arrears of pay that were due to him. This he spent on wine, which he distributed among the men of the guard. Noticing one man with very bad shoes, Arnal observed his own were better, and taking them off he exchanged them for the bad pair, saying, “They will last me as long as I shall require them.” The morning turned out showery, the division formed in three sides of a square, and the guard, headed by the band with Arnal in front, slowly marched round; the muffled drum beat in dull time the “Dead March,” and the swell of its solemn harmony, though it filled the eyes of every man present, only seemed to strengthen the glance of the doomed. He led the van of his funeral procession, like one who was to live for ever: his step was as firm and more correct than any, and I thought at the time, a finer soldier never stepped. Poor Arnal, I shall never forget when we halted at his own grave, the heavy rains had filled it half with water, which he noticed with a faint smile, and observed: “Although a watery one, I shall sleep sound enough in it.” He then stood upright in a fine military position, while the Brigade-Major read aloud the proceedings of the court-martial. The provost came to tie the handkerchief round his eyes, when he coolly remarked, “There is no occasion—I shall not flinch.” Being told it was customary, he said, “Very well, do your duty.” Before this last office was performed, he turned round, and calling most of the guard by name, bade them farewell. As I nodded to him in return, I fancied it was to a dead man, for in two minutes he was no more. The intrepid and cool manner in which he met his fate, drew forth a general feeling of admiration. A few days after the execution we marched for Badajoz, in the environs of which we arrived on the 17th of March. This celebrated city, of which so much has been said and written, stands on an extended plain equidistant three leagues from Elvas and Campo Mayor. The Guadiana which hereabouts forms the boundary between Spain and Portugal, flows on one side of the fortification, and connects with them by a bridge over its surface, one or two forts on the opposite banks. The fortress on all sides is surrounded by strong bastions to the number of thirteen or fourteen, which with trenches and other forts and outworks rendered it almost impregnable. In addition to these the Rivella a tributary stream to the Guadiana flowed round and through the trenches in our front. Our battalion on its arrival took up its encampment on the Spanish side of the river, where we occupied a small hill, and for the first time during our campaigns made use of small square tents, belonging to the Portuguese.