I slept at Bastania the night I arrived: there were not more than a dozen houses in the village, and all filled with dragoons. Into one of those I went, and found the ground-floor covered thickly with straw, upon which the soldiers--about thirty in all--were lying. They immediately made room for me:--my servant slept with my horses in an out-house. I was fatigued; and so, without any other refreshment than a cup of commissariat grog, lay down and slept happily until the trumpeter sounded “_Boots and Saddles_:” this was at two o’clock in the morning, and I had been asleep about three hours. The men were soon out and horsed--so was I. The baggage of the dragoons all packed and mounted--every thing ready for “a breeze.” The morning was dark, and for the time of year, rather chilly: I could not see to a great distance, but within my view passed several troops of heavy dragoons proceeding towards the foot of the mountains. There was scarcely any sound but that from the motion of the horses--the men spoke but little, and were yet half asleep. I moved towards the main road, in order to come up with my division, which was in front; but I soon found that it would be unsafe to proceed, on account of a fog which arose, completely obscuring every thing around. In consequence of this I dismounted; took off my saddle; put it on the ground; and directing my servant to stake the horses to their tethers, lay down with my head resting on it. I can assure my readers, that a saddle is no bad substitute for a pillow when the ground is the bed. The spot I selected was soft, though not dry; it was in a furrow of a ploughed field. I was rolled in my blanket, and for an hour never enjoyed a sounder sleep: but I did not find the waking quite so pleasant; for it had rained heavily during my _enjoyment_, and I felt myself nearly covered by the _watery bed_ of the furrow: however, I shook off my blanket--saddled, and mounted. It was daylight, but not yet sunrise: as I proceeded towards the mountains, I could see to my right, over the distant plain, several bodies of horse evidently stationed to be ready in case the enemy forced their way down--the town of Pamplona on my left in the centre of the plain--the _tricolore_ flying, and occasional guns--I suppose signals--firing. The Pyrenees were capped in grey mist, and therefore I could not discern any of our infantry upon them; but I knew they were in their position there, and had fought the two preceding days in defence of it.