The gallant Major, thus taken by surprise, was so much affected by the event that it was a considerable time before he recovered from the melancholy shock. He was himself killed in France, in the course of a few months, after having run an honourable career throughout the whole of the Peninsular war. They were both sons of Captain H. Mackenzie, the Paymaster of the regiment, who was highly esteemed and respected by the 71st, in which he had served many years. The whole line moving forward along the ridge, the entire extent of which by this time was carried, our troops followed the retiring enemy with steady perseverance, until all opposition having ceased throughout the field, a general halt took place, and the firing was discontinued. The fugitives, in straggling bodies, fled precipitately towards the woods, through which the road to Salvatierra leads; their numbers being every moment swelled, and their confusion rendered irretrievable, by fresh accessions from Vittoria and other quarters, myriads of the routed foe covered the distant country as far as the eye could reach, their route being traceable by a continuous and lengthened train of baggage, guns, and wounded, as well as by the interminable multitude of followers, that are always to be found upon the skirts of a beaten, or in fact of any other, army. Of prisoners taken the number was consequently great, and the whole of the baggage and artillery fell into our hands together with most of the wounded.[28] [28] While employed in some hot work upon the hill, I observed an instance of "taking things coolly," even in the midst of fire, which is worthy of noticing here. One of our Captains, a brave, intrepid soldier from the other side of the Tweed, (who had been so often in the smoke that he seemed only in his proper element when the balls were whizzing past his grisly locks, and the music of great guns was sounding in his ears,) happened to get a crack in the arm, of so violent a nature as to fracture the bone. Regardless of the wound, while the blood was streaming fast, he looked down sorrowfully on the damage effected on his precious garment, the object of his tenderest care, which had so often been wheeled to the right about, that with respect to it, the old adage of "one good turn deserves another" was virtually attended to, and, after eyeing wistfully the awful breach, with greater horror than he would the breach of Badajos, or any other he was about to storm, he cast an angry glance towards that quarter from whence the missile was sent, and exclaimed, in none of the softest tones, as though he wished the whole French army might hear his voice, "Dom the fellows, they've spoiled my cott!"