We were now in a mountainous country, and consequently the army, which had been all united on the march after crossing the Esla, was obliged to separate, and move by various roads to one point. In a day or two we found that the French were about to give up their running, and try their fortune by a stand. We were halted on the 20th of June, about four or five miles from Vittoria, and our columns closed in from various directions: we were told by several peasants that the French, under the command of Joseph Buonaparte and Marshal Jourdain, were between us and Vittoria; and when we saw the Duke of Wellington pass along the road close to us, with several of his generals, we suspected we should not long lie idle: we knew his Grace was going to the front to reconnoitre. I never saw him look better in my life; the march had improved his health, and success had brightened his looks in such a manner, that I fancied he felt confident of beating the enemy in “off hand” style at the first brush. I observed the several Portuguese battalions pass, as fresh for work as if they had not marched two miles; and in several Spanish corps which crossed us to the left under the command of Colonel Longa, I saw physical strength, although neither equipment nor high spirits. Our own troops looked as well as ever they did--the sun-browned and laughing faces of Johns, Pats, and Sawneys, gave assurance that they were highly disposed to enjoy “a bit of diversion.” During the 20th the men refreshed themselves with change of linen, &c. in the best way they could, and enjoyed the evening of that day as happily as if they were reposing after a hunting excursion; every shade had its group, and the country afforded the most picturesque situations for bivouacking. My dinner was spread upon a green spot beneath an overhanging bank, covered with thick foliage, which shut out the hot sun; a clear stream rippling beneath; and here six of us enjoyed an evening’s chat as comfortably as if we were on the banks of one of the Cumberland lakes. We expected to be engaged next day, and the allusions which this expectation brought forth, although calculated to stir up some thoughts of home and friends, did not abate that cheerfulness which the scene present diffused. Our mortal enemy, old Death, was spoken of occasionally, but it was with a smile; no more was thought about him than about Marshal Jourdain or the ex-king Joe.