In 1809 we find the Welsh Fusiliers at Corunna, in Spain. It would be foreign to our purpose to relate the events which preceded that battle; suffice it to say, that Sir John Moore, after a series of brilliant encounters with the enemy, was obliged to retreat. The Spaniards afforded no assistance to the retreating army, which was reduced to the greatest privations; officers and men suffered alike from hunger and fatigue; it was not unusual for the soldiers to point to some young aristocrat marching at the head of his company without shoes or stockings, and to say, with grim humour, “There goes ten thousand a year.” On this, as almost every occasion, the officers bore up better than the men, so great is the influence which the mind has over the body. On reaching Corunna, where they were about to embark for England, our men were attacked by the French. Sir John Moore was prepared to receive them; the sick, the cavalry, and part of the artillery were already embarked; the remaining part of his forces were drawn up to meet the attack of the enemy. The Welsh Fusiliers formed part of General Fraser’s division, which was stationed in the rear at a short distance from Corunna. The enemy charged again and again, but our men not only kept their ground and remained unbroken, but actually forced them to retire at the point of the bayonet. The battle began at mid-day, and at five o’clock in the afternoon the enemy were foiled at every point, and our army occupied a more advanced position than at first. The loss of the British was 800 killed and wounded, including their gallant leader, who was struck to the ground by a cannon-ball, and died in the hour of victory. His death has been commemorated in lines familiar to all our readers, and it is satisfactory to know that Soult, instead of insulting his ashes, caused a monument to be erected to his memory. It is by such generous acts that nations prove their manhood amid the fierce passions evoked by war.