eath came. It was thus, at
the age of thirty, that the good, the brave, the generous Lloyd died.
Tributes to his memory have been published by Wellington, and by one of
his own poor soldiers, by the highest and by the lowest. To their
testimony I add mine. Let those who served on equal terms with him say
whether in aught it has exaggerated his deserts."

A pathetic incident may be added, found in Napier's biography, but
which he does not give in his History. The night before the battle
Napier was stretched on the ground under his cloak, when young Freer
came to him and crept under the cover of his cloak, sobbing as if his
heart would break. Napier tried to soothe and comfort the boy, and
learnt from him that he was fully persuaded he should lose his life in
the approaching battle, and his distress was caused by thinking of his
mother and sister in England.

On December 9, Wellington, by a daring movement and with some fierce
fighting, crossed the Nive. It was a movement which had many
advantages, but one drawback--his wings were now separated by the Nive;
and Soult at this stage, like the great and daring commander he was,
took advantage of his position to attempt a great counter-stroke. It
was within his power to fling his whole force on either wing of
Wellington, and so confident was he of success that he wrote to the
Minister of War telling him to "expect good news" the next day.
Wellington himself was on the right bank of the Nive, little dreaming
that Soult was about to leap on the extremity of his scattered forces.
The country was so broken that Soult's movements were entirely hidden,
and the roads so bad that even the cavalry outposts could scarcely
move. On the night of the 9th Soult had gathered every available
bayonet, and was ready to burst on the position held by Sir John Hope
at Arcanques.

In the grey dawn of the 10th the out-pickets of the 43rd noticed that
the French infantry were pushing each other about as if in sport; but
the crowd seemed to thicken and to eddy nearer and nearer the British
line. It was a trick to deceive the vigilance of the British outposts.
Presently the apparently sportive crowd made a rush forwards and
resolved itself into a spray of swiftly moving skirmishers. The French
columns broke from behind a screen of houses, and, at a running pace,
and with a tumult of shouts, charged the British position. In a moment
the crowd of French soldiers had penetrated betwixt the