If e’er they meet their worthy king, Let them dance roun’ him in a ring, And some Scottish piper play the spring He blew them at _Vittoria_. Peace to the spirits of the brave, Let a’ their trophies for them wave, And green be our Cadogan’s grave Upon thy field, _Vittoria_." _Scottish Song._ In the long interval of time during which Lord Wellington’s army remained cantoned on the Spanish frontier, no hostilities took place saving General Foy’s fruitless attack upon Bejar, and the defeat of the French under General Frimont in the vale of Sedano, near Burgos. During the winter, supplies of every kind,—pay in some instances excepted,—arrived from Britain, to refit the army and enable it to take the field, which it did in an efficient state in the month of May, 1813. During the long residence of the Gordon Highlanders in the valley of Banos, they had become quite domesticated among its inhabitants; and it was a daily occurrence to see them assisting in household matters,—working with the men in the gardens and vineyards, or carrying about in their arms the little children of the patrona on whom they were quartered; and before the battalion departed, the venerable _cura_, had wedded, for weal or woe, several of the olive-cheeked maidens of the valley to men who wore the garb of old Gaul. On the 13th of May the corps marched from Banos, and the entire population of the secluded vale accompanied them to the end of the pass, and watched them until the notes of the war-pipes died away in the wind, and the last bayonet gave a farewell flash in the sun-light as the rear-guard descended the mountains towards the plain of Bejar, where Sir Rowland Hill mustered and reviewed the gathering brigades of his division. The troops presented a very different appearance now from the way-worn, ragged, and shoeless band which, in the close of the last year, had retired from Burgos. Fresh drafts of hale and plump British recruits had filled up the vacancies caused by wounds, starvation, and disease; and a few months in quarters had restored the survivors to health and strength: the new clothing had completely renovated their appearance, and all were in high spirits, and eager again to behold their old acquaintances, Messieurs the French. Sir Rowland complimented Fassifern on the appearance of his Highlanders, who cocked their plumes more gaily now than ever, as they marched past to "the garb of old Gaul." Truly, new scarlet jackets, Paisley tartan, and bonnets from "skull-cleeding Kilmarnock," had wrought a wonderful change upon their ranks.