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and examine the flints. We then moved up the hill under heavy fire; the centre being ordered to open to allow the 71st (our regiment) to advance. Our men had engaged before word came for the doctor to assist Colonel Cadogan, who was wounded. Immediately we charged up the hill, the piper playing Hey, Johnny Cope.' We forced the French from the height, sending out four companies to skirmish. As the enemy retreated we saw a French officer harshly pricking his men with his sword to force them to stand. 'Down with him!' cried a man near me; and down he dropped, struck by several balls. We were scarcely on the height, when a heavy column of French, dressed as Spaniards in greatcoats and white covers on their hats, gave us a volley which put us to the right-about down hill through the whins in double-quick time. Our four companies, already deceived, were mown down almost to a We retired, covered by the 50th, who stopped our pursuers by a tremendous volley, and we returned to the height. We were here supplied with sixty more rounds of ammunition, and continued firing till the bugle sounded. Our drought was excessive, for the only spring there was had been rendered useless. In the heat of the action one of our men called out he would have a drink, let the world go as it would. As he stooped to drink, a ball pierced his head, and he fell in the water, which was reddened by his blood. Thirsty as we were, we could not taste it after that. Only 300 of us were able to do duty out of above 1000 who had drawn rations in the morning. The cries of the wounded were heartrending; but we could give them no assistance, for the French were getting under arms, and we were to maintain the heights while there was a man left of us.

man.

When the French retreated to Vittoria, we followed quick as our weary limbs would carry us—our legs bleeding with thorns, our feet bruised by the roots of trees. Coming to a bean-field at the bottom. of the height, we immediately broke, and every man filled his haversack. It was a dull encampment that night- -we had left 700 men behind. No one joked; everyone hung his head, mourning the loss of a friend or comrade. At twelve o'clock a man from each company was sent to receive half-a-pound of flour for every soldier, and thus we had double allowance. I had fired 168 rounds that day; my shoulder was as black as a coal, and I could not touch my head with my right hand. The next day there were great congratulations. Mutual sorrow had made us all brothers. About a hundred of our men joined they had escaped from the French in the retreat.

The afternoon we attacked Toulouse, as we were in extended order, firing and retiring, just as I had risen to run behind my file, a spent shot struck me on the groin. God receive my soul!' I said, and sat down resigned, laying my musket by me, and gasping for breath. The French were advancing fast. I was sick; I put

my canteen to my mouth, but I could not taste the water; still I moistened my lips, and grew less faint. I felt my thigh, and found there was no blood. At that moment the French came up, and one of them made a charge at me as I sat pale as death. But the next man turned the point past me. 'Do not touch the good Scot,' he said; and then asked me if I remembered him. He was a soldier whose life I had saved at Lobral from a Portuguese who was going to kill him as he lay wounded. 'God bless you!' he cried; and threw me a pancake from his hat. The rear-guard took my knapsack, and left me lying; and I soon rejoined the regiment, though in great pain. Soon after came peace. We embarked at Bordeaux, and arrived in Cork in June 1814.

I had been now seven years and eleven months a soldier, and hoped for my discharge; but having been only sixteen when I enlisted, my seven years were counted from my eighteenth year. . I had still therefore a year to serve. After lying at Limerick some time, we got the word for America. I sought my discharge in vain, though I had only a few months more to serve. It was hard, and I so near freedom, I was almost tempted to desert; but I kept my honour and embarked. When on our way, a schooner fired a gun, brought us to, and gave us orders for Deal. My heart leapt for joy. I would not have stayed in the regiment for a thousand pounds; ay, I would have left if I had only had a shirt to cover me. We sailed to Gravesend, and after one afternoon sailed for Antwerp.

We were quartered in villages near Louis till the 16th of June 1815, and were drilled daily. As we were going out for the usual field-day on the 16th, we were marched off sixteen miles to the French frontier, and arriving at one in the morning at a village, we took the quarters of a brigade of Brunswickers who marched out. The next day, just as we had halted for the heat and lit our fires, we got orders to fall in, and move along the high-road towards Waterloo. The road was crowded by artillery and ammunition carts, all pushing on for Waterloo. The distant firing had never ceased that day or the day before. Just as we encamped, and began to cook, we had to advance on the enemy. We lay down under arms, the rain never ceasing all night. At daybreak, stiff and sore with the rain, we got half an allowance of liquor, the most welcome thing I ever received. As the weather cleared up, we began to clean our arms and prepare for action. A young lad lately joined said to me while we were cleaning, Tom, you are an old soldier, have escaped often, and have every chance to escape this time also. I am sure to fall.' I tried to cheer him, but I could not alter his belief; and he begged me to tell his parents he died praying for their blessing and pardon.

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ferent parts of the line. About twelve o'clock we fell in for attack,
and marched to our position on the face of a brae, to cover a brigade
of guns.
We were so worn out with our two days' march that many
of us fell asleep (I included) directly, almost as soon as we
touched the ground. The cannon-balls plunging in amongst us
killed many of our men. I was awoke by a shot striking the ground
a little below me. It turned me heels over head, broke my musket
in pieces, and killed a lad at my side. I was so stunned and con-
fused, I did not know at first whether I was wounded or not. An
hour and a half under this dreadful fire cost us about sixty men, and
we never returned a bullet. The poor lad I mentioned had both
his legs cut off by a shot, and he soon bled to death, saying, Tom,
do not tell my mother how I died; it would break her heart.' About
two o'clock a squadron of lancers came down hurraing to charge the
guns. We formed square.
General Barnes called out, 71st, I
have often heard of your bravery-it will not be less to-day than it
has been.' We soon put our old playfellows to the right-about.
We advanced, forming square every now and then to receive cavalry.
The noise and smoke were dreadful. We could see but a very
little way from us, and the wounded and dead lay thick all round.
We then moved on in column for a considerable way, and formed
line; then gave three cheers, fired a few volleys, charged the enemy,
and drove them back in the old way. Once a squadron of French
cavalry rode furiously down upon our line. We had only time
to form the front of the square before they were on our bayonets.
Many of our men were out of place. There was a good deal of jost-
ling for a minute or two and a good deal of laughing our quarter-
master dropping his bonnet in riding into the square, snatched it
up, put it on back foremost, and wore it so all day. A French
general lay dead in the square, his breast covered with orders. Our
men fell to plundering them off, pushing each other as they passed,
and snatching at them. We stood in square for some time, while the
13th Dragoons and a squadron of French dragoons were engaged :
the 13th kept retiring behind our column, till we would drive
back the Frenchmen with a volley, then at them again. We felt
every blow the 13th received; when a Frenchman fell, we shouted;
when one of the 13th, we groaned. We wished to join them, but
were forced to stand in square. When we fell back to the heights
in the rear, a shot cut the straps of a man's knapsack near me; it
fell and was rolling away, when he snatched it up, saying, 'I am not
going to lose you in that way—you are all I have in the world ;'
and roughly tying it on, he marched forward. Lord Wellington
came riding up, and forming square with him in the centre, we re-
ceived the French cavalry. Shortly the whole army received orders
to advance, and we moved forwards in two columns four deep. This
was the last effort the enemy retired, leaving everything behind.

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We moved on towards a village, and charged right through, killing great numbers, the place was so crowded. We formed on the other side of it, and lay down in the open air, hungry and wearied to death. We had been oppressed all day with the weight of our blankets and greatcoats, which were drenched with rain, and lay like logs of wood on our shoulders. The moment I stretched myself on the ground sleep came. The whole night I was harassed by dreams of fighting and charging. As my comrades one by one awoke, we began to talk over the great battle. I had been in many an action where our own regiment had fought harder, but I had never known one where the firing was so dreadful or the noise so great. When I looked over the field of battle, it was covered and heaped in places with dead, and it was horrible to see the wounded crawling along the rows of corpses. Yet it seemed a mere matter of course then. Somehow I have been more distressed by the burial of a comrade who had died in a hospital, than seeing after a battle fifty comrades put into the same trench. In the morning we got half an allowance of liquor, and remained under arms till mid-day; then we received orders to cook. When cooking was over, we marched on towards France. When we reached Paris, and the French capitulated, we marched towards the gates, placing a cannon on each side and gunners with lighted matches. Lord Wellington stood at the gates to see us. After three months in Paris, we were marched to Flanders for winter quarters, and I got my discharge. I left my comrades with regret, but the service with joy.

WALTER THORNBURY.

THE TÊTE NOIRE REVISITED

O vows of love on Alpine path,

'Midst Alpine summits, sworn! O sweet false love! O after-math

Of love-love's sweetness shorn!
Our bodies twain, our souls were not;
Our kiss our spirits drew-
That kiss of passion first begot―
Their fleshly prison through.

Our bodies twain, our souls were one!
So ran our vows; and they,
Pledged ere the day had well begun,
Held true-till close of day.
'True e'en as to their craggy bed

Dash down those mountain rills;
True e'en as they are true,' she said,
The everlasting hills.

There, wrapt in snow sublime, they rise
Imperishable, vast;

Yon Tête Noire heaven itself defies-
See how the storm flees past!
Should fiercer suns its snowy, wreath
Dissolve, love melts not so;
Love, firm as e'en the rock beneath,
Heeds not the sun's fierce glow!'

Only a twelvemonth since, and now
What are the words and where the vow ?
Still is the Tête Noire here; but where

She I had deem'd as true as fair?
Again do I see the Alpine snow,
But what of her who, a year ago,
Gazed on that Alpine snow with me,
Weaving it into a simile?

Fancy meeting her yesterday!
Excellent friends in a distant way;

Just as if to each other ne'er

More than we now can be we were.

Capital match you have made,' they say; And the world is always right.

What of your simile apropos

But stay,

Of love and rocks and Alpine snow?

T. H. S. ESCOTT.

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