I have already stated that the citadel, after enduring the miseries of a bombardment during a whole week, finally surrendered on the 8th of September. It was now the 15th, when I, with two or three others--who, like myself, were desirous of examining the condition of a place which had held out so long and so vigorously--mounted our horses soon after sunrise, and set forth. The road by which we travelled was both sound and level, running through the pass of Irun, a narrow winding gorge, overhung on both sides by rugged precipices, which in some places are hardly fifty yards apart. This we followed for about twelve miles, when, striking off to the left, we made our way, by a sort of cross-road, over hill and dale, till we found ourselves among the orchards which crown the heights immediately above the town. We had directed our course thither, because a medical friend, who was left in charge of such of the wounded as could not be moved, had taken up his quarters there in a large farmhouse, which he had converted into a temporary hospital; and to him we looked for beds and entertainment. Nor were we disappointed; we found both, and they proved to be greatly superior in quality to any which had fallen to our lot since we landed. The reader will easily believe that a man who has spent some of the best years of his life amid scenes of violence and bloodshed must have witnessed many spectacles highly revolting to the more delicate feelings of our nature; but a more appalling picture of war passed by--of war in its darkest colours--those which distinguish it when its din is over--than was presented by St Sebastian and the country in its immediate vicinity, I certainly never beheld. While an army is stationary in any district, you are wholly unconscious of the work of devastation that may be going on--you see only the hurry and pomp of hostile operations; but when the tide has rolled by, and you turn to the spot over which it last swept, the effect upon your own mind is such as cannot even be imagined by him who has not experienced it. Little more than a week had elapsed since the division employed in the siege of St Sebastian moved forward. Their trenches were not yet filled up, nor their batteries demolished; yet the former had in some places fallen in of their own accord, and the latter were beginning to crumble to pieces. We passed them by, however, without much notice. It was, indeed, impossible not to acknowledge that the perfect silence was far more awful than the bustle and stir that lately pervaded them; whilst the dilapidated condition of the convent, and of the few cottages which stood near it, stripped as they were of roofs, doors, and windows, and perforated with cannon-shot, inspired us, now that they were deserted, with sensations somewhat gloomy. But these were trifles--a mere nothing when compared with the feelings which a view of the town itself excited.