the rear, or to Gibraltar." He was a strict disciplinarian, and very particular that there should be no straggling or irregularity on the march, thereby ensuring the comfort of good soldiers and the character of the regiment, while the country people were encouraged by good treatment to bring in regular supplies.

The retreat of Marshal Soult from Cadiz, and of the Count d'Erlon (Drouet) to join him, rendered Hill's presence in Estremadura no longer necessary, and he was directed to move by Almarez upon Toledo and Aranjuez, for the purpose of covering the capital while Wellington left it to lay siege to Burgos. Accordingly, the battalion left Don Benito on the 13th of September, forded the Guadiana, and marched with the First Brigade to Majados, and, moving by Villa Macia, arrived at Truxillo on the 15th. Here they halted till the 18th, when they bivouacked in the beautiful country near Jaraceijo, the place where they had remained concealed before the surprise of Almarez. On the 19th they proceeded through the Pass of Mirabete, crossed the Tagus by a pontoon bridge placed near the site of the one they had destroyed in May, and encamped in front of Almarez. The 50th being the rear battalion of the column of march this day, on crossing the bridge, Colonel Stewart halted and formed line fronting the tête-de-pont and Fort Napoleon, in the capture of which they had acted so conspicuous a part; the whole gave three times three cheers, the band all the time playing "God Save the King"; they then followed the rest of the brigade, the band playing "The Downfall of Paris," and "The British Grenadiers."

The line of march continued by Naval Moral, Calzada de Oropesa, and La Gartera, where they halted a day; marching at midnight on the 25th, they entered Talavera de la Reina next morning amidst the acclamation of the whole population, who had not forgotten the battle of Talavera in 1809, or the conduct of the British soldiers on that occasion; and Sir Rowland Hill's desperate defence of the left of the position was spoken of by all with an admiration which was reflected on the troops now under his command. It was therefore with considerable regret that they took leave of the warm-hearted

Talaverians on the 27th, and marched through miles of vineyards, the grapes, ripe and delicious, overhanging the narrow roads in beautiful and inviting clusters. These autumn marches were very different to the summer heat and arid plains of Estremadura, the peasants selling cheaply wine, peaches, plums and grapes, often giving fruit for nothing to the soldiers as they passed along, and at night the troops either lay in the village houses, or bivouacked round bright firwood fires; where groups might be seen listening to old Highland tales, singing Gaelic or English choruses, such as the Skye soldiers' song *:

Or

Tha mi'n duil

Tha mi'n duil

Tha mi'n duil ri bhi tilleadh

Dh' ionnsuidh Duthaich Mhic Leod

Far am b'og bha mi mireadh.

"The wind blew the bonnie lassie's plaid awa'."

Or a veteran of Egmont-op-Zee and Egypt would be heard reciting Corporal MacKinnon's poems. Nor were there wanting songs inspired by more recent adventures, notably one on Arroyo dos Molinos, to the tune of "Hey, Johnny Cope," in which the French General Gérard took the place of his English prototype.

On arrival at their next halt, Cebollio, the Highlanders had, however, rather a cool reception. The reader may remember how in November 1808, when they entered Spain under Moore, some thoughtless people of the 71st had told the natives that the kilted men were cowards; this, like other scandalous tales, had spread further than the inventors of it intended, and had reached Cebollio, while the contradiction had failed to do so, and the villagers looked on them as men totally unworthy of notice; but the men could now talk Spanish, and they told the people that they were proud of their distinctive and honourable dress, while the 71st were even more anxious than themselves to remove the impression which they deeply regretted their thoughtlessness had created, There were many Skye men in the regiment at this time.

so that the people were soon laughing heartily at their mistake, and the country was inundated with Highlanders proceeding by invitation to partake of the fruits of the surrounding vineyards.

Next day during the march they passed through five or six considerable towns, in each of which they were received with every demonstration of welcome, and at Torrejos, where they halted, Sir Rowland was received by the magistrates in their robes of office, and the town was illuminated in the evening. At Toledo, where they arrived on the 29th, the Governor, the magistrates, the famous guerilla chief El Medico, and many of the nobility and gentry, met them a mile from the gates, congratulating their general on the favourable state of affairs, and cordially welcoming the first British troops who had visited them. When within the walls of this ancient city, they were received with enthusiasm; cheering crowds lined the streets, the balconies and windows were filled with ladies waving their handkerchiefs and throwing flowers as the soldiers passed, crying " Viva George III.," " Viva Wellington," "Viva Hill," "Viva Ferdinand VII." The troops halted in the principal square, where every house was decorated with flags and gaily coloured cloth; and in the evening the city was brilliantly illuminated.

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Splendid spectacles have generally their comic incident. It was furnished here by a vendor of brandy, who went along the ranks bawling the excellence of his liquor. Thinking Colonel Cameron a likely customer as he stood giving orders in front of his battalion in the square, he approached, roaring, "Aguardente, Senhor, aguardente," holding out for admiration an enormous bottle. Whack came the cane of the angry Highland chief, the big-bellied bottle was flying in a thousand pieces; and the spirit merchant bounded into the crowd, in terror lest his brains should follow his brandy, while a titter ran along the ranks.

On the 30th the battalion left Toledo (famous for the manufacture of sword blades), crossed the Tagus by the bridge under the walls, and bivouacked in a rich valley twelve miles up the river; on the 1st of October they occupied Aranjuez, a handsome town about twenty miles from Madrid, where, pre

vious to the French invasion, the royal family resided for part of the year. Officers and soldiers were permitted to see the apartments of the palace, and three officers at a time were allowed four days' leave to Madrid.

During these campaigns, escorts were often sent to the rear with prisoners of war, or with sick and wounded, sometimes bringing back from the hospital men who had recovered, or ammunition, etc. on mules. The muleteer is a great character, a jovial, wine-loving, hardy fellow, sleeping in the open with his pack-saddle for a pillow, a favourite with all the countryside. The peasants were often hospitable to the soldiers. In the mountain districts the Spanish peasants wore sheepskin coats, woolly side out, and kept enormous wolf-dogs to guard their sheep. In the plains they still tread out the corn with cattle or mares instead of threshing it. They live frugally, and in the evening sit on stone benches in front of the cottages, singing and playing the guitar. They are fond of dancing. These escort duties were often pleasant excursions. Sometimes officers and soldiers fell in love with the agreeable girls they met in their billets, and many romantic adventures or ridiculous situations ensued. At times when the regiment had changed its quarters, the returning escort might lose its way and meet an enemy, as happened once when, on a sultry day, one of these parties arrived at the summit of a ridge where a grassy hollow invited a halt. The wooded rocks which partly surrounded it offered shade to the tired soldiers, while a spring of cold water quenched their thirst. Presently the glitter of helmets was seen at a corner of the winding road, up which a foraging party of French dragoons were advancing. Not knowing which might be the stronger, the officer quickly moved his men and lay in ambush in the wood above, hoping the French would pass, and that he might then resume his march in peace; but the place was so tempting for a halt that the Frenchmen dismounted, watered their horses, and leaving them in charge of one or two of their number, the rest with the muleteers stretched themselves in the shade and proceeded to take a pull at the wine-skin. They were few in number, and the Highland officer, having crept to where he could see their arrangements, formed the design

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of capturing them and their spoil. He desired his little force to line the rocks above the unsuspecting marauders so as to cover them all. As he approached the rocks, a piper who was with him (probably returning convalescent), not understanding that stratagem rather than strength was to be used, was about to blow the onset, when a fierce, if whispered, rebuke prevented his play from spoiling the game. Then, as his men suddenly appeared with their firelocks presented at the astonished dragoons, the young officer called to them in their own tongue, "Surrender, or you are dead men ! Their carbines were on their saddles; there was nothing to be done, and they did it! The Highlanders had the satisfaction of rejoining their battalion with their prisoners, and the price of the horses and mules made a handsome lining to their sporrans.

These little adventures were not always, however, so much. to their credit. An old soldier used to relate with great glee how, being one of an escort on a long, hot, and dusty march, they halted and sat down to rest in the shade of some trees by the road, while their officer retired some little distance out of sight in the wood. Soon there appeared coming up the road a procession of peasants leading asses and mule carts laden with grapes, corn and wine, while a monk in his long robe and bare feet, carrying a cross, led the way. The soldiers supposed he had been collecting tithes; and thinking they would like a share, jumped up, and without saying a word began to help themselves; then they heard a peculiar sound from the front, and looking round saw the monk on his knees calling down curses on their heads; on which a wild sort of young fellow named Sandy M'Intosh, reckless of the clerical anathemas, ran across the road, lifted his musket, which was not loaded, and pointed it at the poor monk, who, to their great amusement, sprang to his feet, threw down the cross, and, kilting his coats, ran away as fast as his legs could carry him. Having taken their toll they let the carts go, and were much relieved to find that the officer, who had probably been taking a nap, knew nothing of their performance.

The battalion remained at Aranjuez in peace and plenty for three weeks, waiting and hoping for news of the capture of