each other on the grand and nobly achieved work,
each praising the bravery of the other's troops. 'Your fellows slash
in like the very devil himself!' cried Wellington. Bluecher replied,
'Yes; you see, that is their business. But brave as they are, I know
not whether one of them would stand as firmly and calmly in the midst
of the shower of balls and bullets as your English.' Then Wellington
asked Bluecher about his previous position on the field of battle,
which had enabled him to execute an attack so fatal to the enemy.

Bluecher, who could strike tremendous blows, but was by no means a
consummate orator, and could not paint his deeds in words, conducted
Wellington to the place itself. They found it completely deserted; but
on the very spot where Bluecher had that morning halted, and from which
he had galloped away, stood a man with his head bound up, and with his
arm wrapped in a handkerchief. He smoked a long, dazzling white clay
pipe. 'Good God!' exclaimed Bluecher, 'that is my servant, Christian
Hennemann. What a strange look you have, man! What are you doing
here?' 'Have you come at last?' answered Christian Hennemann, in a
grumbling tone; 'here I have stood the whole day, waiting for you. One
pipe after another have the cursed French shot away from my mouth.
Once even a blue bean (a bullet) made sad work with my head, and my
fist has got a deuce of a smashing. That is the last whole pipe, and
it is a good thing that the firing has ceased; otherwise, the French
would have knocked this pipe to pieces, and you must have stood there
with a dry mouth.' He then handed the lighted pipe to his master, who
took it, and after a few eagerly-enjoyed whiffs, said to his faithful
servant, 'It is true, I have kept you waiting a long time; but to-day
the French fellows could not be forced to run all at once.' With
astonishment, Wellington listened to the conversation. Amazed, he
looked now at the Field-Marshal, now at the 'Pipe-master,' and now at
the branches of trees and the balls scattered all round, which made it
only too evident what a dangerous post this spot must have been during
the battle. The wound in Hennemann's head proved to be somewhat
serious; his hand was completely shattered; and yet, in the midst of
the tempest of shot, he had stood there waiting for his beloved
master."[55]

[Footnote 55: During the conquest of Holland, Louvais
paid more attention to furnishing tobacco than