mont had been
partially, La Haye Sainte completely won; that upon the right of the road
the farm-houses Papolotte and La Haye were nearly surrounded by his troops,
which with any other army must prove the forerunner of defeat,--yet still
the victory was beyond his grasp. The bold stratagems, whose success the
experience of a life had proved, were here to be found powerless. The
decisive manoeuvre of carrying one important point of the enemy's lines, of
turning him upon the flank, or piercing him through the centre, were here
found impracticable. He might launch his avalanche of grape-shot, he might
pour down his crashing columns of cavalry, he might send forth the iron
storm of his brave infantry; but though death in every shape heralded their
approach, still were others found to fill the fallen ranks, and feed with
their hearts' blood the unslaked thirst for slaughter. Well might the
gallant leader of this gallant host, as he watched the reckless onslaught
of the untiring enemy, and looked upon the unflinching few who, bearing the
proud badge of Britain, alone sustained the fight, well might he exclaim,
"Night or Blucher!"

It was now seven o'clock, when a dark mass was seen to form upon the
heights above the French centre, and divide into three gigantic columns,
of which the right occupied the Brussels road. These were the reserves,
consisting of the Old and Young Guards, and amounting to twelve
thousand,--the _elite_ of the French army,--reserved by the Emperor for
a great _coup-de-main_. These veterans of a hundred battles had been
stationed from the beginning of the day, inactive spectators of the fight;
their hour was now come, and with a shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" which rose
triumphantly over the din and crash of battle, they began their march.
Meanwhile aides-de-camp galloped along the lines announcing the arrival of
Grouchy, to reanimate the drooping spirits of the men; for at last a doubt
of victory was breaking upon the minds of those who never before, in the
most adverse hour of fortune, deemed _his_ star could be set that led them
on to glory.

"They are coming; the attack will be made on the centre, my lord," said
Lord Fitzroy Somerset, as he directed his glass upon the column. Scarcely
had he spoken when the telescope fell from his hand, as his arm, shattered
by a French bullet, fell motionless to his side.

"I see it," was the cool reply of the duke, as he ordered the Guards to
deploy into line and li