ense had become
unbearable.

The heavens were shattered by the discharge. Ney pitched from his
horse, the sixth that day to be shot under him. He was up in a moment,
his sword out. He advanced on foot at the head of the Guard. It was
his last charge. He was to face muskets again, but in Paris, in the
hands of a firing-squad, with his back to the wall. He was not given
the coveted privilege of dying on that stricken field, though he sought
for it wildly everywhere, but when he did die it was as he had lived,
undaunted. Now, his great voice uplifted, he led forward the devoted
and immortal band. His sword was shot out of his hand. Seizing a gun
and a bayonet from a falling grenadier, he fought in the ranks as in
Russia.

Again, the tactics were faulty, as d'Erlon's men the Guard came in
solid columns. Right in front of the rapid-firing English, the muskets
and cannon in one continuous roar now, they sought to deploy and return
that terrible withering fire. The Prussian infantry, panting like
dogs, now gained the crest of the ridge and, animated by more than
human hatred, fell into disorderly but determined lines and opened
fire. Harsh German oaths and exclamations mingled with hearty English
curses and cheers. The Guard was firing rapidly now, straight into the
faces of the English. And still the columns came on. Like a great
wave which rushes forward at first swiftly and then goes slower and
slower and slower as it rolls up the beach it advanced. By and by it
stopped. The end was at hand. With bent heads the men stood and took
the hail of lead and iron.

"Come!" said Ney, frantic with battle fever. "Come! See how a Marshal
of France can die."

Now was the crucial moment. The Iron Duke saw it. The two armies were
face to face firing into each other. To which side would the victory
incline? He spoke to Maitland, to Adams, to Colborne. That gallant
soldier threw his men on the exposed flank of the column which had
obliqued, bent to the right. Before they could face about out of the
smoke came the yelling English! They found the men on the flank of the
column the next morning just where it had stood lying in ordered ranks
dead.

Still they did not give back. Vivian and Vandeleur, daring light
horsemen, were now hurled on the devoted division. At it they ran. On
it they fell. Still it stood. It was incredible. It was almost
surrounded now. The attack had failed. To advance was impossi