So soon as my regiment reached the village, I obtained leave to return to Rodrigo, for I was anxious to see in what situation the family were with whom I, in common with my companions, had passed the preceding night. Upon entering the town, I found all in confusion. The troops ordered to occupy it were not any of those which had composed the storming divisions; and although the task of digging graves, and clearing away the rubbish about the breaches, was not an agreeable one, they nevertheless performed it with much cheerfulness; yet, in some instances, the soldiers levied contributions upon the unfortunate inhabitants,—light ones it is true, and for the reason that little remained with them to give, or, more properly speaking, withhold. But the Provost-Marshal was so active in his vocation that this calamity was soon put a stop to, and the miserable people, who were in many instances in a state of nudity, could without risk venture to send to their more fortunate neighbours for a supply of those articles of dress which decency required. Upon reaching the house I had rested in the evening before, I was rejoiced to find it uninjured, and the poor people, upon once more seeing me, almost suffocated me with their caresses, and their expressions of gratitude knew no bounds for our having preserved their house from pillage. Having satisfied myself that my _padrona_ and her daughters had escaped molestation, I took my leave of them, and once more visited the large breach. On my way thither I saw the French garrison preparing to march, under an escort of Portuguese troops, to the fortress of Almeida; they were a fine-looking body of men, and seemed right well pleased to get off so quietly; they counted about eighteen hundred, and were all that escaped unhurt of the garrison. At the breach there were still several wounded men, who had not been removed to the hospitals; amongst them was a fellow of my own corps, of the name of Doogan; he was badly wounded in the thigh, the bone of which was so shattered as to protrude through the skin. Near him lay a French soldier, shot through the body, quite frantic from pain, and in the agonies of death. The moment Doogan observed me, he called out most lustily, “Och! for the love of Jasus, Mr. Grattan, don’t lave me here near this villain that’s afther cursing me to no end.” I observed to Doogan that the poor fellow was in a much worse state than even himself, and that I doubted whether he would be alive in five minutes. At this moment the eyes of the Frenchman met mine, “_Oh! monsieur_,” exclaimed he, “_je meurs pour une goutte d’eau! Oh, mon Dieu! mon Dieu!_”—“Now,” ejaculated Doogan, addressing me, “will you believe me (that never tould a lie in my life!) another time? Did you hear him, then, how he got on with his _mon dew_?” I caused Doogan to be carried to an hospital, but the French soldier died as we endeavoured to place him in a blanket.