On the 8th Bonet arrived, and the French marshal immediately extending his right to Toro, commenced repairing the bridge there. Wellington, in like manner, stretched his left to the Guarena, yet kept his centre still on the Trabancos, and his right at Rueda, with posts near Tordesillas and the ford of Pollos. In this situation the armies remained for some days. Generals Graham and Picton went to England in bad health, and the principal powder magazine at Salamanca exploded with hurt to many, but no other events worth recording occurred. The weather was very fine, the country rich, and the troops received their rations regularly; wine was so plentiful, that it was hard to keep the soldiers sober; the caves of Rueda, either natural or cut in the rock below the surface of the earth, were so immense and so well stocked, that the drunkards of two armies failed to make any very sensible diminution in the quantity. Many men of both sides perished in that labyrinth, and on both sides also, the soldiers, passing the Duero in groups, held amicable intercourse, conversing of the battles that were yet to be fought; the camps on the banks of the Duero seemed at times to belong to one army, so difficult is it to make brave men hate each other. To the officers of the allies all looked prosperous, their only anxiety was to receive the signal of battle, their only discontent, that it was delayed; and many amongst them murmured that the French had been permitted to retreat from Christoval. Had Wellington been finally forced back to Portugal his reputation would have been grievously assailed by his own people, for the majority, peering through their misty politics, saw Paris in dim perspective, and overlooked the enormous French armies that were close at hand. Meanwhile their general’s mind was filled with care and mortification, and all cross and evil circumstances seemed to combine against him.