the loss was much greater, and in many, houses full of furniture
were entirely deserted, and abandoned to pillage.

Sunday morning was ushered in by one of the most dreadful tempests I
ever remember. The crashing of thunder was followed by the roar of
cannon, which was now distinctly heard from the ramparts, and it is not
possible to describe the fearful effect of this apparent mockery of
heaven. I never before felt so forcibly the feebleness of man. The rain
was tremendous--the sky looked like that in Poussin's picture of the
Deluge, and a heavy black cloud spread, like the wings of a monstrous
vulture, over Brussels. The wounded continued to arrive the whole of
Saturday night and Sunday morning, in a condition which defies
description. They appeared to have been dragged for miles through oceans
of mud; their clothes were torn, their caps and feathers cut to pieces,
and their shoes and boots trodden off. The accounts they brought were
vague and disheartening--in fact, we could only ascertain that the Duke
of Wellington had late on Saturday taken up his position at Waterloo,
and that there he meant to wait the attack of the French. That this
attack had commenced we needed not to be informed, as the roar of the
cannon became every instant more distinct, till we even fancied that it
shook the town. The wounded represented the field of battle as a perfect
quagmire, and their appearance testified the truth of their assertions.
About two o'clock a fresh alarm was excited by the horses, which had
been put in requisition to draw the baggage-wagons, being suddenly
galloped through the town. We fancied this a proof of defeat, but the
fact was simply thus: the peasants, from whom the horses had been taken,
finding the drivers of the wagons absent from their posts, seized the
opportunity to cut the traces, and gallop off with their cattle. As this
explanation, however, was not given till the following day, we thought
that all was over; the few British adherents who had remained were in
despair, and tri-coloured cockades were suspended from every house. Even
I, for the first time, lost all courage, and my only consolation was the
joy of Annette. "England cannot be much injured by the loss of a Single
battle," thought I; "and as for me, it is of little consequence whether
I am a prisoner on parole, or a mere wanderer at pleasure. I may easily
resign myself to my fate; but this poor girl would break her heart if
she lost her lover, f