The Duke of Dalmatia crosses the Bidassoa—Sharp contest at the heights of St. Marzial and the Bridge of Bera—Touching scene witnessed by the Author on his way to rejoin his division at Santa Barbara—A present from England—Passage of the Bidassoa by the English troops on the 6th of October—Active fighting—The French driven over the mountains into their own territory—Delights of good quarters after hard work—Reconnoitring—Habits and condition of the Spanish soldiery—A mock fight—Military pastimes—Preparations for the invasion of France. On the same day that the assault of St. Sebastian took place, the Duke of Dalmatia, with the right wing of his army, crossed the Bidassoa, opposite to the heights of St. Marzial, and another division forded the river two hundred yards below Bera (under cover of the high rock, which rises abruptly over the west end of the town) and immediately moved forward to attack the heights above the village of Salines, occupied by part of the seventh division, with whom and the Portuguese the enemy were engaged the greater part of the day. The French repeatedly endeavoured to climb the heights of St. Marzial without effect. The ascent was so difficult, that the Spaniards had little more to do than to deliver their fire, by which they managed, in the presence of Field-marshal the Marquis of Wellington, to beat the enemy. The French marshal, when he saw his soldiers giving way and plunging into the Bidassoa, became perfectly furious, for, owing to this unsuccessful attack, the French above Salines were obliged to grope their way down the uneven and slippery mountain, in search of the ford which they had previously crossed (in the morning) in good order, and in the highest spirits. When, however, they now reached the river after exceeding toil and in total darkness, they found it so swollen, owing to the floods from the mountains, that they could not attempt to cross it. The wind howled fiercely; the roaring torrents, and vast bodies of water, poured down the sides of the mountains, rocks and water courses, swelling the river into an overwelming flood, which rushed through the narrow arches of the bridge of Bera, with irresistible fury. In short, a perfect hurricane raged over the mountains, and swept throughout the valleys, in boisterous whirlwinds, that carried away in their fearful blasts branches of trees, and bellowed furiously over the tops of the forests.