believes in discipline after
serving half a century in such a regiment. Have you ever heard the
story of their fight at Fontenoy, ten years since, when they lost two
hundred and forty men? I heard it three nights ago at the general's
table, and 't was enough to make a man weep for very pity that such
valor should count for naught."

"Tell it me," I cried, for if there is one thing I love above all
others,--yea, even yet, when I must sit useless by,--it is the tale of
brave deeds nobly done.

"'T was on the eleventh day of May, seventeen forty-five," he said, "that
the English and the Dutch met the French, who were under Marshal Saxe.
Louis the Fifteenth himself was on the field, with the Grand Dauphin by
his side and a throng of courtiers about him, for he knew how much
depended on the issue of this battle. A redoubt, held by the famous
Guards, bristling with cannon, covered the French position. The Dutch,
appalled at the task before them, refused to advance, but his Grace of
Cumberland, who commanded the English, rose equal to the moment. He
formed his troops in column, the Coldstreams at its head, and gave the
word for the assault. The batteries thundered, the redoubt was crowned
with flame, but the Coldstreams turned neither to the right nor left.
Straight on they marched,--to annihilation, as it seemed,--reforming as
they went, over hill and gully, as steadily as on parade. At last they
reached their goal, and an instant's silence fell upon the field as they
faced the French. The English officers raised their hats to their
adversaries, who returned the salute as though they were at Versailles,
not looking in the eyes of death.

"'Gentlemen of the French Guard,' cried Lord Charles Hay, 'fire, if
you please.'

"'Impossible, monsieur,' cried the Count of Hauteroche; 'the French
Guards never fire first. Pray, fire yourselves.'

"The order was given, and the French ranks fell as grain before the
sickle. They gave way, the Coldstreams advancing in perfect order, firing
volley after volley. The officers, with their rattans, turned the men's
muskets to the right or left, as need demanded. Nothing could stop that
terrible approach, resistless as a whirlwind, and French and Swiss broke
themselves against it, only to be dashed back as spray from a rocky
coast. Regiment after regiment was repulsed, and the Coldstreams still
advanced. Saxe thought the battle lost, and begged the king and the
dauphin to flee while time per