While I contemplated all the luxuries with which I was surrounded, I felt exceedingly happy, and I am inclined to think that the evening of the 4th of January 1812 was, if not one of the pleasantest of my life, unquestionably one of the most rational I ever passed. Our baggage had by this time arrived, and having got on dry clothes, we began to attack the contents of Peshall’s canteen, which was ever at the service of his friends; it contained, among other good things, a Lamego ham, and a cold roast leg of mountain mutton, “morsels which may take rank, notwithstanding their Spartan plainness, with the most disguised of foreign manufacture.” It is scarcely necessary to add that we did ample justice to the viands placed before us, and having taken a sufficient libation of brandy punch, in which the Spaniard joined us, we turned our thoughts to our beds. We arose early the following morning, the 5th, and the brigade reached the small village of Atalaya, distant three leagues from Rodrigo, a little before noon. That fortress was completely invested on the evening of the 7th, and dispositions were made to commence operations against it on the night following. Ciudad Rodrigo stands upon an eminence, on the right bank of the river Agueda, and is difficult of access; it had been, since its occupation by the French, much strengthened by the construction of a redoubt on the hill above St. Francisco; some old convents in the suburbs were also turned into defences, and these places no longer presented their original peaceful appearance, but were, in fact, very respectable outworks, and tended much to our annoyance and loss at the commencement of the siege.