of the 16th, and the general gave notice that he intended, if the French did not move, to begin embarking the reserve at four in the afternoon. This was about mid-day. He mounted his horse, and set off to visit the out-posts: before he had proceeded far, a messenger came to tell him that the enemy's line were getting under arms; and a deserter arriving at the same moment, confirm ed the intelligence. He spurred forward. Their light troops were pouring rapidly down the hill on the right wing of the British, and the advanced picquets were already beginning to fire at them. Lord William Bentinck's brigade, consisting of the 4th, 42d, and 50th regiments, maintained this post. It was a bad position; and yet, if the troops gave way on that point, the ruin of the army was inevitable. The guards were in their rear. General Puget was ordered to advance with the reserve and support Lord William. The enemy opened a cannonade from eleven heavy guns, advantageously planted on the hills. Two strong columns, one advancing from a wood, the other skirting its edge, directed their march towards the right wing. A third column approached the centre: a fourth advanced slowly upon the left: a fifth remained half way down the hill, in the same direction.

Sir David Baird had his arm shattered with a grape-shot as he was leading on his division. The two lines of infantry advanced against each other: they were separated by stone walls and hedges which intersected the ground but as they closed, it was perceived that the French line extended beyond the right flank of the British, and a body of the enemy was observed moving up the valley to turn it. Half of the 4th regi

ment, which formed this flank, was ordered to fall back, forming an obtuse angle with the other half. This manoeuvre was excellently performed, and they commenced a heavy flanking fire: Sir John Moore called out to them, that this was exactly what he wanted to be done, and rode on to the 50th, commanded by Majors Napier and Stanhope. They got over an inclosure in their front, charged the enemy most gallantly, and drove them out of the village of Elvina; but Major Napier, advan cing too far in the pursuit, received several wounds, and was made prisoner, and Major Stanhope was mortally wounded.

The general now proceeded to the 42d. "Highlanders," said he, "remember Egypt!"--and they rushed on, and drove the French before them, till they were stopped by a wall: Sir John accompanied them in this charge. He now sent Captain Hardinge to order up a battalion of guards to the left flank of the 42d. The officer commanding the light infantry conceived, at this, that they were to be relieved by the guards, because their ammunition was nearly expended, and he began to fall back. The general, discovering the mistake, said to them, "My brave 42d, join your comrades: ammunition is coming, and you have your bayonets!" Upon this, they instantly moved forward. Captain Hardinge returned, and pointed out to the general where the guards were advancing. The enemy kept up a hot fire, and their artillery played incessantly on the spot where they were standing. A cannon-shot struck Sir John, and carried away his left shoulder, and part of the collar-bone, leaving the arm hanging by the flesh. He fell from his horse on his back,

not a muscle of his face altered, nor did he betray the least sensation of pain. Captain Hardinge, who dismounted, and took him by the hand, perceived him anxiously watching the 42d, which was warmly engaged, and told him they were advancing, and upon that intelligence his countenance brightened. Colonel Graham, who now came up to assist him, seeing the composure of his features, began to hope that he was not even wounded, till he saw the dreadful laceration. From the size of the wound, it was in vain to make any attempt at stopping the blood; and Sir John consented to be removed in a blanket to the rear. In raising him up, his sword, hanging on the wounded side, touched his arm, and became entangled between his legs: Captain Hardinge began to unbuckle it; but the general said, in his usual tone and manner, and in a distinct voice," It is as well as it is; I had rather it should go out of the field with me." Six soldiers of the 42d and the guards bòre him. Hardinge, observing his composure, caught at the hope that the wound might not be mortal, and said to him, he trusted he would be spared to the army, and recover. Moore turned his head, and looking stedfastly at the wound for a few seconds, replied, No, Hardinge, I feel that to be impossible."

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As the soldiers were carrying him slowly along, he made them frequently turn round, that he might see the field of battle, and listen to the firing; and he was well pleased when the sound grew fainter. A springwaggon came up, bearing Colonel Wynch, who was wounded: the colonel asked who was in the blanket, and being told it was Sir John Moore, wished him to be placed in the wag

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gon. Sir John asked one of the Highlanders whether he thought the waggon or the blanket was best? and the man said the blanket would not shake him so much, as he and the other soldiers would keep the step, and carry him easy. So they proceeded with him to his quarters at Coruna, weeping as they went.

General Paget, meantime, hastened with the reserve to support the right wing. Colonel Beckwith dashed on with the rifle corps, repelled the enemy, and advanced on their flanking, so far as nearly to carry off one of their cannon; but a corps greatly superior moved up the valley, and at length forced him to retire. Paget, however, attacked this body of the enemy, repulsed it, and pressed on, dispersing every thing before him, till the enemy, perceiving their left wing was now quite exposed, drew it entirely back. The French then advanced upon Generals Manningham and Leith, in the centre, and there they were more easily repelled, the ground being more elevated, and favourable for artillery. The position on the left was strong, and their effort there was very unavailing: But a body of them took possession of a village on the road to Betanzos, and continued to fire from it, till Lieutenant-colonel Nicholls attacked it, and beat them out. Night was now closing in, and the French had fallen back in all parts of the field. The firing, however, was not discontinued till it was dark.

Never was any victory gained under heavier disadvantages. The French force, at the lowest computation, exceeded 20,000 men, and was more generally estimated at 30,000. The British were not 15,000. The superiority in artillery was

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equally great:--they had met English guns on the way, sent off, thus late, to the patriotic armies, and these they had turned back, and employed against the English army. Our artillery was embarked; and the Shrapnell shells, which contributed so materially to the success at Vimiera, were not used in this more perilous engagement. If the moral and physical state of the two armies be considered, the disadvantages under which our soldiers laboured were still greater: The French, clothed in the stores which they had overtaken the road, elated with a pursuit, in which no man had been forced beyond his strength, and hourly receiving reinforcements to their already superior numbers;-the English, in a state of misery, to which no army, perhaps, had ever before been reduced till after a total defeat; having lost their military chest, their stores, their baggage, their horses, their women and children, their sick, their wounded, their stragglers, every thing but their innate, unequalled, unconquerable courage. Our loss in the battle did not amount to 800; that of the French exceeded 2000. If such a victory was gained by the British army under such circumstances, what might not have been atchieved by that army when unbroken, with all its means at hand, in health, strength, in its pride; and in its height of hope!

The general lived to hear that the battle was won. "Are the French beaten?" was the question which he repeated to every one who came into his apartment; and he expressed how great a satisfaction it was to him to know that they were defeated. "I hope," he said, "the people of England will be satisfied! I hope my country will do me justice."

Then, addressing Colonel Anderson, who had been his friend and companion in arms for one-and-twenty years, he said to him, "Anderson, you know that I have always wished to die this way.-You will see my friends as soon as you can :-tell them every thing.-Say to my mother"-But here his voice quite failed, and he became excessively agitated, and did not again venture to name her. Sometimes he asked to be placed in an easier posture. "I feel myself so strong," he said, "I fear I shall be long dying. It is great uneasiness-it is great pain." But, after a while, he pressed Anderson's hand close to his body, and, in a few minutes, died without a struggle. He fell, as it had ever been his wish to do, in battle and in victory. No man was more beloved in private life, nor was there any general in the British army so universally respected. All men had thought him worthy of the chief command. Had he been less circumspect, had he looked more ardently forward, and less anxiously around him, and on all sides, and behind,-had he been more confident in himself and in his army, and impressed with less respect for the French generals, he would have been more equal to the difficulties of his situation.

But let it ever be remembered with gratitude, that, when some of his general officers advised him to conclude the retreat by a capitulation, Sir John Moore preserved the honour of England.

He had often said that, if he was killed in battle, he wished to be buried where he fell. The body was removed at midnight to the citadel of Coruna. A grave was dug for him on the rampart there, by a party of the 9th regiment, the aides-ducamp attending by turns. No coffin

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could be procured; and the officers of his staff wrapped the body, dressed as it was, in a military cloak and blankets. The interment was hastened; for, about eight in the morning, some firing was heard, and the officers feared that, if a serious attack were made, they should be ordered away, and not suffered to pay him their last duty. The officers of his family bore him to the grave; the funeral service was read by the chaplain; and the corps was covered with earth.

Meantime, Gen. Hope, on whom the command devolved, passed the night in embarking the troops. At ten o'clock he ordered them to march from the field by brigades, leaving strong picquets to guard the ground, and give notice if the enemy approached. Major-general Beresford, with a rear guard of about 2000 men, to cover the embarkation, occupied the lines in front of Coruna. Major-general Hill, with a corps of reserve, was sta

tioned on a promontory behind the town. Nearly the whole army was embarked during the night: the picquets were withdrawn, and embarked also before day; little remaining ashore at day-light except the rear guard and the reserve. The French, seeing this, pushed on their light troops to the heights Jan. 17. of St Lucia, which command the harbour, got up some cannon to a rising ground, and fired at the transports. Several of the masters of these vessels were frightened, and cut their cables: four of them ran a-ground. The men were put on board other ships, and these were burnt.— During the night of the 17th, and the following morning, Beresford sent off all the sick and wounded who were in a condition to bear the removal: And, lastly, the rear guard got into the boats, no attempt being made to interrupt them. Thus terminated our first campaign in Spain.