e down behind the ridge, which now the French
artillery had found the range of, and were laboring at their guns. In front
of them the Fifty-second, Seventy-first, and Ninety-fifth were formed; the
artillery stationed above and partly upon the road, loaded with grape, and
waited but the word to open.

It was an awful, a dreadful moment. The Prussian cannon thundered on our
left; but so desperate was the French resistance, they made but little
progress. The dark columns of the Guard had now commenced the ascent, and
the artillery ceased their fire as the bayonets of the grenadiers showed
themselves upon the slope. Then began that tremendous cheer from right
to left of our line, which those who heard never can forget. It was the
impatient, long-restrained burst of unslaked vengeance. With the instinct
which valor teaches, they knew the hour of trial was come; and that wild
cry flew from rank to rank, echoing from the blood-stained walls of
Hougoumont to the far-off valley of La Papelotte. "They come! they come!"
was the cry; and the shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" mingled with the out-burst
of the British line.

Under an overwhelming shower of grape, to which succeeded a charge of
cavalry of the Imperial Guard, the head of Ney's column fired its volley
and advanced with the bayonet. The British artillery now opened at half
range, and although the plunging fire scathed and devasted the dark ranks
of the Guard, on they came, Ney himself on foot at their head. Twice the
leading division of that gallant column turned completely round, as the
withering fire wasted and consumed them; but they were resolved to win.

Already they gained the crest of the hill, and the first line of the
British were falling back before them. The artillery closes up; the
flanking fire from the guns upon the road opens upon them; the head of
their column breaks like a shell; the duke seizes the moment, and advances
on foot towards the ridge.

"Up, Guards, and at them!" he cried.

The hour of triumph and vengeance had arrived. In a moment the Guards were
on their feet; one volley was poured in; the bayonets were brought to
the charge; they closed upon the enemy; then was seen the most dreadful
struggle that the history of all war can present. Furious with
long-restrained passion, the Guards rushed upon the leading divisions; the
Seventy-first and Ninety-fifth and Twenty-sixth overlapped them on the
flanks. Their generals fell thickly on every side; Mic