Towards three o’clock in the afternoon our works had been materially advanced, several small magazines were in progress, the batteries destined to act against La Picurina were armed, and the losses which we sustained amongst our engineers repaired by the arrival of others to replace their fallen companions. It was at this time, while I was seriously occupied with thirty men, in covering with boards and sand-bags a magazine which had been, with great labour, formed during the forenoon, that a shell of huge dimensions exploded at the entrance of it. There were, at the moment, above a dozen or so of the Staff Corps and Engineers, with some of the line, placing a quantity of gunpowder in the vault which had been prepared to receive it. The roof of the magazine was, in defiance of the dreadful fire which was incessant upon this point, crowned by a few soldiers of the party under my command; some kegs of gunpowder, which were at the entrance of the cave, unfortunately blew up, destroying all at that side of the magazine, and hurling the planks which were but in part secured upon its top, together with the men that were upon them, into the air: it caused us great loss of lives and labour, but fortunately the great store of powder which was inside escaped. The planks were shivered to pieces, and the brave fellows who occupied them either blown into atoms, or so dreadfully wounded as to cause their immediate death; some had their uniforms burned to a cinder, while others were coiled up in a heap, without the vestige of anything left to denote that they were human beings. An 88th soldier, of the name of Cooney, barber to the company he belonged to, escaped the effects of the explosion unhurt, except a slight scratch in the face, caused by a splinter from a rock that had been rent in pieces by the blowing up of the magazine; he was an old and ugly man, but yet so vain of his personal appearance as to be nearly in despair at the idea, as he said, “of his good looks being spoiled.” While he was in the midst of his lamentation, a round shot struck his head and carried it off. In his coat pocket was found his soap and razor, which were instantly drawn lots for, but to whose “lot” they fell I know not.