g over its
gravelly bed; the cawing of the old rooks in the tall beech-trees; but more
than all, the happy laugh of children,--speak of the spot as one of retired
and tranquil beauty; yet when my eyes opened upon it on the morning of the
17th of June, the scene presented features of a widely different interest.
The day was breaking as the deep, full sound of the French bugles announced
the reveille. Forgetful of where I was, I sprang from my bed and rushed to
the window; the prospect before me at once recalled me to my recollection,
and I remembered that I was a prisoner. The exciting events around left me
but little time and as little inclination to think over my old misfortunes;
and I watched, with all the interest of a soldier, the movement of the
French troops in the orchard beneath. A squadron of dragoons, who seemed to
have passed the night beside their horses, lay stretched or seated in all
the picturesque groupings of a bivouac,--some already up and stirring;
others leaned half listlessly upon their elbows, and looked about as if
unwilling to believe the night was over; and some, stretched in deep
slumber, woke not with the noise and tumult around them. The room in which
I was confined looked out upon the road to Charleroi; I could therefore
see the British troops; and as the French army had fallen back during the
night, only an advanced guard maintaining the position, I was left to my
unaided conjectures as to the fortune of the preceding day of battle. What
a period of anxiety and agitation was that morning to me; what would I
not have given to learn the result of the action since the moment of my
capture! Stubborn as our resistance had been, we were evidently getting the
worst, of it; and if the Guards had not arrived in time, I knew we must
have been beaten.

I walked up and down my narrow room, tortured and agonized by my doubts,
now stopping to reason over the possibilities of success, now looking from
the window to try if, in the gesture and bearing of those without, I could
conjecture anything that passed. Too well I knew the vaunting character
of the French soldier, in defeat as in victory, to put much confidence in
their bearing. While, however, I watched them with an eager eye, I heard
the tramp of horsemen coming along the paved causeway. From the moment my
ear caught the sound to that of their arrival at the gate of the orchard,
but few minutes elapsed; their pace was indeed a severe one, and as they