On the morning of the tenth day after our embarkation, I was condoling with Donald, who was now quite blind. “I will never be a soldier again, O Thomas! I will be nothing but Donald the blind man. Had I been killed,--if you had left me to die in Spain,--it would have been far better to have lain still in a wreath of snow, than be, all my life, a blind beggar, a burden on my friends. Oh! if it would please God to take my life from me!"--“Land a-head! Old England once again!” was called from mouth to mouth. Donald burst into tears: “I shall never see Scotland again; it is me that is the poor dark man!” A hundred ideas rushed upon my mind, and overcame me. Donald clasped me to his breast: our tears flowed uninterrupted. We anchored that same day at Plymouth, but were not allowed to land; our Colonel kept us on board until we got new clothing. Upon our landing, the people came round us, showing all manner of kindness, carrying the lame and leading the blind. We were received into every house as if we had been their own relations. How proud did I feel to belong to such a people! We were marched to Ashford barracks, in the County of Kent, where we remained from the month of February, 1809, until we were marched to Gosport camp, where the army was forming for a secret expedition. During the five weeks we lay in camp, Donald joined us in good health and spirits. All the time I lay at Ashford, I had letters regularly from my mother, which whiled away the time. We sailed from the Downs on the 28th of July, and reached Flushing in thirty hours, where we landed without opposition. Our regiment was the first that disembarked. We were brigaded, alongst with the 68th and 85th regiments, under the command of Major-General De Rollenburgh. Here, again, as in South America, I was forced to work in the trenches, in forming the batteries against Flushing. On the night of the 7th of August, the French sallied out upon our works, but were quickly forced back with great loss. They were so drunk, many of them, that they could not defend themselves; neither could they run away: we, in fact, gave up the pursuit, our hearts would not allow us to kill such helpless wretches, a number of whom could not even ask for mercy.