Captain Gough, of the 68th, was quartered in the next house, where we passed some pleasant days, while comparing notes on the subject of our late adventures. Poor Gough I never saw again. He was a passenger from America, (where his regiment was quartered), in the Union Packet, which was shipwrecked off the coast of Ireland, and was among those who unfortunately perished. Vittoria is a well built and populous city, with regular streets, and a handsome Square. The country around is abundant in all the productions of so fine a climate, and did not seem to have experienced any of those evils incident to war. The inhabitants in general treated the British officers with civility, but many were inwardly our enemies. Some time after our arrival, however, they thought it better policy to affect a degree of reverence for us, and make wondrous professions, of the sincerity of which we had certain doubts. It was during our stay here, that the Honorable Captain Gore, of the 94th regiment, was put to death by a party sent to force an entrance into his quarters, in order to convey from thence a lovely and interesting damsel, whom that officer had taken under his protection. Of this tragical event there has been so many different versions, that, if I were to relate the particulars as reported at the time, the account would probably vary from others that were published. I shall therefore forbear from any detail of the painful and melancholy narrative. The gallant Captain was certainly imprudent in resisting the Spanish authorities. Knowing as he did the prejudices of the country, the results of the ill-fated attachment might have easily been foreseen; for, thus to get involved so seriously with a fair Senorita could not fail to exasperate and excite the vengeance of her family.--The unfortunate affair was truly to be deplored on every account. Gore was a fine promising young man, and his inamorata (since entombed within a convent), was beautiful. The good people of Vittoria enjoyed themselves, while we remained, as much as any other set of mortals in this transitory state of being. Apparently indifferent as to what might become of their politics, they assembled, during the cool and refreshing hours of evening, in groups around the doors, making merry among each other with lively chattering, and peals of laughter, that flew, in a sort of running fire, from one end of the city to the other. About this time, the celebration of a grand festival, in honour of one of their numerous saints, was going forward. During its continuance, the place was in a state of noisy uproar, and the people were infected with a sort of dancing mania, enough to gladden the heart of St. Vitus himself. We were insufferably tormented with the unmerciful squealing of fifes, and upon the parchment they were perpetually drumming in our ears.