The next day, the 6th, we had no fighting; each army kept its position, and Villa Formosa continued to be the receptacle for the wounded. This village is beautifully situated on a craggy hill, at the foot of which runs the little stream of Oñoro. Its healthful and tranquil situation, added to its proximity to the scene of action, rendered it a most desirable place for our wounded; the perfume of several groves of fruit-trees was a delightful contrast to the smell that was accumulating on the plain below; and the change of scene, added to a strong desire to see a brother officer, who had been wounded in the action of the 5th, led me thither. On reaching the village, I had little difficulty in finding out the hospitals, as every house might be considered one, but it was some time before I discovered _that_ which I wished for. At last I found it. It consisted of four rooms; in it were pent up twelve officers, all badly wounded. The largest room was twelve feet by eight, and this apartment had for its occupants four officers. Next the door, on a bundle of straw, lay two of the 79th Highlanders, one of them shot through the spine. He told me he had been wounded in the streets of Fuentes on the 5th, and that although he had felt a good deal of pain before, he was now perfectly easy and free from suffering. I was but ill skilled in surgery, but, nevertheless, I disliked the account he gave of himself. I passed on to my friend; he was sitting on a table, his back resting against a wall. A musket-ball had penetrated his right breast, and passing through his lungs came out at his back, and he owed his life to the great skill and attention of Doctors Stewart and Bell, of the 3rd Division. The quantity of blood taken from him was astonishing; three, and sometimes four, times a day they would bleed him, and his recovery was one of those extraordinary instances seldom witnessed. In an inner room was a young officer shot through the head. His was a hopeless case. He was quite delirious and obliged to be held down by two men; his strength was astonishing, and more than once, while I remained, he succeeded in escaping from the grasp of his attendants. The Scotch officer’s servant soon after came in, and, stooping down, inquired of his master how he felt, but received no reply; he had half turned on his face; the man took hold of his master’s hand, it was still warm, but the pulse had ceased—he was dead. The suddenness of this young man’s death sensibly affected his companions; and I took leave of my friend and companion, Owgan, fully impressed with the idea that I should never see him again.