The British had stood firm without flinching an inch; but the French, who were now fighting in a great disorganized mob, had continued to advance, by the rear men pushing on the _front_, until within thirty paces of the British line; and at so short a distance it may easily be supposed that the shot on both sides told with fearful effect, especially among the dense masses of the French, before whom, in five minutes, arose a pile of their own dead and wounded like a breast-work. Beyond this ghastly line they would not advance an inch, nor could they be prevailed upon to do so even by the most strenuous exertions of their officers, who, whenever the smoke cleared away a little, were observed brandishing their sabres, waving their colours and eagles, and enthusiastically crying, "_Vive la France! Vive l’Empereur! Vive la Gloire!_" But their soldiers heeded them not, and continued to load and fire with the utmost _sang froid_, but would not be led to the charge. The brave 71st Highland Light Infantry, after fighting with their usual obstinacy and intrepidity, had been compelled to give way, by which three Portuguese pieces of cannon fell into the possession of the French. To recapture these, a desperate attempt was made by Lieutenant Armstrong, who, at the head of eight private soldiers, as brave and as rash as himself, rushed furiously on the enemy. With his sword in one hand and his bonnet in the other, the gallant Borderer was seen amidst the smoke leading them on; but all perished under the leaden shower, within a few feet of the French bayonets. After being reduced to half its number of officers and men, this fine regiment began to retire in disorder. The 34th and 50th were in the same perilous predicament, owing to the front and flank movements of the enemy, when Fassifern with his Highlanders entered the bloody arena. As the battalion moved in open column of companies, along the hill-top from the camp towards the pass, Cameron addressed a few words to them, exhorting them to fight to the last man, and maintain the ancient fame of the north. He reminded them that they were not fighting merely for the defence of Spain, but of those homes where their kindred dwelt. His voice became drowned in the din of the conflict which rolled along the face of the hills, and Stuart heard only the concluding part of his address, and part of it was in Gaelic. "Highlanders! we shall have a bloody sabbath here to-day; but we go forth to shed our blood that the sabbath-bells may ring in peace at home, in those green straths and wooded glens where many a Scottish heart is praying for us at this hour." The sound of the pipes, as the piper on the flank of each company struck up "_On wi’ the Tartan_," was the only reply. What a gush of indescribable feeling came through every breast, when the blast of the pipe was heard at such a moment! Every eye lighted up, and every cheek flushed: the effect of the sound of that