We marched by Aguilar to Palencia; our light cavalry by Zamora and Toro: the right and centre columns of the army, with Lord Wellington, passed through Salamanca to Valladolid--the whole directing their march to Burgos. At Palencia I first saw the ponton boats in their carriages: they were drawn by oxen; each boat had a carriage to itself, and each carriage was drawn by from twelve to sixteen. The boats were reversed--or bottom uppermost--and seated on them were the pontoneers, dressed in naval uniform; these were men specially employed to launch the boats, form the bridge, and, in short, to conduct that service through all its branches. I had but a faint idea of the extreme ponderosity of warlike machinery until I beheld these boats upon their carriages: the battering rams of the Romans were go-carts compared with the ponton train on the march: the Spaniards, as they passed, threw up their eyes in an ecstasy of admiration at the sight of them, and cheered loudly while they were in view. Over those boats were to pass to France, which they feared and hated, the invading and delivering armies--over them the cannon that was to thunder their victory:--this thought was enough to make them cheer, and their “_vivas!_” were well answered by the troops that followed. I remained at Palencia until the evening of the day on which the pontons passed through it; and there I accidentally met with a young officer, whose subsequent greatness I little thought then depended so on the success of our campaign, as it afterwards turned out. This officer was Captain De Grammont, then of the 10th Hussars, but now his Grace the Duc de Guiche. He is a part of the royal family of France, aid-de-camp to the Duke d’Angoulême, and high in favour at the Tuilleries. When I saw him at Palencia, he appeared one of the finest models of a young Hussar chief I ever beheld: he wore his beard, which curled upon his chin; his regimentals were sufficiently field-rubbed to have lost that _very_ bright gloss which distinguished them on the parade at home; and there was a melancholy cast about his countenance and manner, which, from being mixed with the most affable address, made a strong impression upon me--particularly when I learnt his true situation. He was engaged against his countrymen--but for his country’s rights; and he had only a day or two before met them in the charge. It was _his_ troop that spilled the first French blood of that campaign, and it was _his_ subaltern who gave the first wound. He described the charge to me: it was thus:--The French having crossed the Esla, a strong guard covered their retreat, and the 10th Hussars attacked their rear, which was defended by light dragoons. In advancing to the charge, the Subaltern of Captain De Grammont, Cornet Fitzgerald--a lad of only sixteen years of age--happened to have been somewhat in advance of the troop, owing to the mettle of his horse: the Cornet’s servant