“To return to our own part of the battle, _i.e._, to our left wing, the fire of the enemy soon became very hot, and even though the 36th were lying on their breasts under the brow, our men were getting pretty much hit, whilst the regiment in our rear, the 82nd, which at that time could not fire a shot, suffered more than we did. General Spencer, who commanded the division, when moving about to regulate the general movements, was hit by a ball in the hand, and I saw him wrap his handkerchief round it, and heard him say, ‘It is only a scratch!’ Soon after the light infantry in our front closed files and fell in; our guns we pulled back, and then came the struggle. General Ferguson waving his hat, up we rose, old Burne (our colonel) crying out, as he shook his yellow cane, that he would knock down any man who fired a shot. “This made some merriment among the men, as tumbling over was the fashion without the application of their colonel’s cane. “Charge,” was the word, and at once we went over the brow with a steady line of glittering steel, and with a hearty hurrah, against six regiments in close column, with six pieces of artillery, just in front of the 36th. But not an instant did the enemy stand against this most unexpected sally within pistol shot. Off they went, and all their guns were instantly taken, horses and all, and then left in our rear, whilst we went on chasing the runaways for a mile and a half, as hard as we could go, over the moor of Tourinhâo. They rallied, it is true, once or twice, particularly behind some thick prickly-pear hedges and a hut or two on the flat table-land; but although their brave General Solignac was always cantering to their front, and animating them against us, they at last fled precipitately, until they reached a small hamlet, where, however, they did make a tolerable stand. “Here it was that Sir Arthur Wellesley overtook us after a smart gallop. He had witnessed from a distance our steady and successful charge, and our capture of the guns, and he now saw how we were thrusting the French out of this hamlet. Through the sound of the musketry, and in the midst of much confusion, I heard a shrill voice calling out, ‘Where are the colours of the 36th?’ and I turned round (my brother ensign, poor Peter Bone, having just been knocked down), and looking up into Sir Arthur’s bright and confident face said, ‘Here they are, sir.’ Then he shouted, ‘Very well done, my boys! Halt, halt—quite enough.’ “The French were now at their last run, in spite of every effort of Solignac to rally them. Several of our bloody-minded old soldiers said in levelling, ‘they would bring down the —— on the white horse,’ and sure enough the gallant fellow fell, just as the 71st Highlanders, who were on our left, being moved round _en potence_, charged down the hill, with their wounded piper playing, sitting on the ground, and completed the rout of the enemy, taking General Solignac of course prisoner.”