When the dispersion of his columns took place, the Duke of Alburquerque found his retreat completely cut off. Four officers were with him; with these he advanced upon the French cordon of cavalry, and when at the distance of about an hundred yards, turning to one of his companions, he said, “You see that officer of chasseurs so gaily caparisoned? I will have him down in a moment.” He then spurred his horse, and rode at him full speed: of course his companions followed; ... the French officer was startled, and moved rapidly on one side, several of the chasseurs imitated his movement, and Alburquerque with his friends got through the opening they had thus made. D. Miguel de Alava was one of those friends; he had behaved with distinguished gallantry that day, and just before the dispersion of the last battalions, sword in hand, singly retook a Spanish nine-pounder from two French dragoons who had taken possession of it. Soon after they had broken through, and were still hotly pursued, a wounded artilleryman besought Alava to save him from the general massacre. “Get up behind me,” was the answer, “and I will carry you off, or we will perish together.” This little party, happily for Spain, effected their escape. About midnight they arrived at a lone farm-house, far enough from the field to feel themselves in safety; and having got some wood upon the fire, and lighted their cigars, they agreed unanimously that the loss of the battle was of no[11] importance. Such was the spirit of the Spaniards; a spirit which no misfortunes could abate, which no defeats could subdue. ♦THE REMAINS OF THE SPANISH ARMY COLLECT.♦