I stay'd behind, while the Earl convey'd the distress'd Dutchess to her requested _Asylum_; and I believe it was much the longest Part of an Hour before he return'd. But as soon as ever he came back, he, and my self, at his Command, repair'd to the Place of most Confusion, which the extraordinary Noise full readily directed us to; and which happened to be on the Parade before the Palace. There it was that the _Miquelets_ were making their utmost Efforts to get into their Hands the almost sole Occasion of the Tumult, and the Object of their raging Fury, the Person of Don _Valasco_, the late Governor. It was here that the Earl preserv'd that Governor from the violent, but perhaps too just Resentments of the _Miquelets_; and, as I said before, convey'd him by Sea to _Alicant_. And, indeed, I could little doubt the Effect, or be any thing surpriz'd at the Easiness of the Task, when I saw, that wherever he appear'd the popular Fury was in a Moment allay'd, and that every Dictate of that General was assented to with the utmost Chearfulness and Deference. _Valasco_, before his Embarkment, had given Orders, in Gratitude to his Preserver, for all the Gates to be deliver'd up, tho' short of the stipulated Term; and they were accordingly so delivered, and our Troops took Possession so soon as ever that Governor was aboard the Ship that was to convey him to _Alicant_. During the Siege of _Barcelona_, Brigadier _Stanhope_ order'd a Tent to be pitch'd as near the Trenches as possibly could be with Safety; where he not only entertain'd the chief Officers who were upon Duty, but likewise the _Catalonian_ Gentlemen who brought _Miquelets_ to our Assistance. I remember I saw an old Cavalier, having his only Son with him, who appear'd a fine young Gentleman, about twenty Years of Age, go into the Tent, in order to dine with the Brigadier. But whilst they were at Dinner, an unfortunate Shot came from the Bastion of St. _Antonio_, and intirely struck off the Head of the Son. The father immediately rose up, first looking down upon his headless Child, and then lifting up his Eyes to Heaven, whilst the Tears ran down his Cheeks, he cross'd himself, and only said, _Fiat voluntas tua_, and bore it with a wonderful Patience. 'Twas a sad Spectacle, and truly it affects me now whilst I am writing.