lay in her way, and had not gone more than about fifty yards, when she fell on her face, and uttered the most bitter cries. We hastened to her--she was embracing the body of a sergeant, a fine tall fellow, who lay on his face. “Oh! it’s my husband--it’s my husband!” said she; “and he is dead and cold.” One of the men turned the body on his face; the sergeant had been shot in the neck, and his ankle was shattered. The lamentations of the woman were of the most heart-rending kind, but not loud. She continued to sit by her lifeless husband, gazing on his pale countenance, and moving her head and body to and fro, in the most bitter agony of woe:--she talked to the dead in the most affectionate language--of her orphans--of her home--and of their former happiness. After a considerable time, by persuasion, we got her upon one of the cars with the wounded, and placed the body of her husband beside her; this we did, because she expressed a wish to have it buried by a clergyman. She thanked us more by looks than words, and the melancholy load proceeded slowly to Vittoria. In our way back to the town, my companion’s attention was attracted by a dead Portuguese; he raised up the body, and asked me to look through it--I _did_ absolutely look _through_ it. A cannon-ball had passed into the breast and out at the back--and so rapid must have been its transit, from its forming such a clear aperture--in circumference about twelve inches--that the man must have been close to the cannon’s mouth when he was shot--it spoke volumes for the courage of the troops. The hospital at Vittoria that evening presented a sad spectacle; not only was part of it filled with wounded, but the streets all round it--about two thousand men, including those of the French with those of the Allies. Owing to the rapid, and perhaps unexpected, advance of the army, there were only three surgeons to attend to this vast number of wounded, for the first two days after the battle; and, from the same reason, no provisions were to be had for them for a week! The Commissariat had not provided for the exigency, and the small portion of bread that could be purchased was sold at three shillings per pound. From these casualties, I often thought since, that in cases of expected general actions, if one half of both medical and commissariat staff were under orders to remain on the field until relieved, instead of following their respective divisions, it would obviate such privations. However, there is every excuse in this case, considering the unexpected rapidity of the advance. No fault whatever can be laid to either of the departments in this instance: it was wholly owing to advancing to such distance beyond Vittoria, as required too long a time to retrace.