On a morning in February 1810, I had to leave the island, where I was garrisoning, to go to Cadiz, obeying a notice as discreet as it was brief that a certain lady had the goodness to send me. The day was beautiful, clear and happy as in Andalusia, and I traveled with other companions, who were walking towards the same point if not for the same purpose, the long isthmus that serves so that the continent does not have the misfortune of being separated from Cadiz; We examined the admirable works of Torregorda, the Cortadura and Puntales as we passed, we chatted with the friars and grave people who worked on the fortifications; we disputed whether or not the positions of the French were clearly perceived on the other side of the bay; We threw some canes in the Poenco figon, next to the Puerta de Tierra, and finally, we parted ways in the Plaza de San Juan de Dios, to go each one to their destination. I repeat that it was in February, and although I cannot specify the day, I do affirm that it was the beginning of that month, because the famous answer was still warm: AThe city of Cadiz, faithful to the principles that it has sworn, does not recognize another king that Mr. D. Femando VII. February 6, 1810 A
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