While in Campo Mayor, where we remained for some time, a German of the sixtieth regiment, a Frenchman, and two Italians, belonging to the Chasseurs Britannique, were shot for desertion,—the former belonging to our division, the latter three to the seventh. On the morning that the sentence of the first was carried into execution, the division was assembled outside of the town, where they formed three sides of a square. The prisoner was marched past the various regiments, accompanied by the chaplain of the division, and the guard appointed to shoot him. When his devotions were finished, he was blindfolded by the provost marshal, and placed kneeling on the brink of his grave already open to receive him. He gave the signal, and the next moment he fell pierced by half a dozen musket balls. The different regiments then marched past the body, receiving the word ‘eyes left’ as they past him. I was on the general provost guard, the evening previous to those of the seventh division being shot. The sergeants came with the company’s books to settle their accounts; the two Italians were in paroxysms of agony, crying and wringing their hands. The behaviour of the Frenchman, who had been taken prisoner, had volunteered into the Chasseurs Britannique, and afterwards deserted from them to his countrymen, formed a strong contrast to that of the others. Calm and dignified, he seemed to feel no fear of death, nor did any complaint pass his lips, save an occasional exclamation against the injustice of trying him as a deserter, being a Frenchman. In his circumstances, he argued it was natural that he should endeavour to join his friends the first opportunity that offered. When the sergeant was settling their accounts, the Italians paid no attention to anything said to them; but he discussed every item with the greatest exactness, and the sergeant wanting a small coin about the value of a farthing to balance, he desired him to procure it before he would sign the ledger; but though thus exact with the sergeant, the moment he received his balance, which amounted to some dollars, he divided every penny of it amongst his fellow-prisoners. When the Italians received their money, they sent for brandy, and began to drink intemperately, endeavouring to drown their sorrows and sear their minds; but it had quite a different effect, for they then broke from all restraint in the expression of their feelings, and cried and groaned with agony in such a manner, that they could be heard at a considerable distance from the guard-room. In this state they continued until morning, when they ceased their lamentations, only because nature was exhausted by their former violence. Quite different was the conduct of the Frenchman: when the brandy was procured, the Italians pressed him to take some, but he thanked them, and refused, ‘No,’ said he, throwing a look of mingled pity and contempt on them, ‘I need no brandy to enable me to face death.’