e straggling sunbeams fell upon the earth, I could
trace the helmet of the Enniskilleners, or the tall bearskin of the Scotch
Greys, lying in thick confusion where the steel cuirass and long sword of
the French dragoons showed the fight had been hottest. As I turned my eyes
hither and thither I could see no living thing near me. In every attitude
of struggling agony they lay around; some buried beneath their horses, some
bathed in blood, some, with clinched hands and darting eyeballs, seemed
struggling even in death; but all was still,--not a word, not a sigh, not a
groan was there. I was turning to leave the spot, and uncertain which way
to direct my steps, looked once more around, when my glance rested upon
the pale and marble features of one who, even in that moment of doubt and
difficulty, there was no mistaking. His coat, torn widely open, was grasped
in either hand, while his breast was shattered with balls and bathed in
gore. Gashed and mutilated as he lay, still the features wore no trace of
suffering; cold, pale, motionless, but with the tranquil look of sleep, his
eyelids were closed, and his half-parted lips seemed still to quiver in
life. I knelt down beside him; I took his hand in mine; I bent over and
whispered his name; I placed my hand upon his heart, where even still the
life blood was warm,--but he was dead. Poor Hammersley! His was a gallant
soul; and as I looked upon his blood-stained corpse, my tears fell fast and
hot upon his brow to think how far I had myself been the cause of a life
blighted in its hope, and a death like his.

CHAPTER LIV.

BRUSSELS.

Once more I would entreat my reader's indulgence for the prolixity of
a narrative which has grown beneath my hands to a length I had never
intended. This shall, however, be the last time for either the offence or
the apology. My story is now soon concluded.

After wandering about for some time, uncertain which way to take, I at
length reached the Charleroi road, now blocked by carriages and wagons
conveying the wounded towards Brussels. Here I learned, for the first time,
that we had gained the battle, and heard of the total annihilation of the
French army, and the downfall of the Emperor. On arriving at the farm-house
of Mont St. Jean, I found a number of officers, whose wounds prevented
their accompanying the army in its forward movement. One of them, with whom
I was slightly acquainted, informed me that General Dashwood had spent
the g