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 out of it—of the farmer Lacoste, in his pinioned situation beside Buonaparte—or, if I may venture so to speak, of the commandant of that nameless corps of Gentlemen light horse volunteer, when he received the unwelcome hint from Lord Wellington’s aid-du-camp, that an opportunity occused for them to charge the French cavalry; their colonel, in great surprise, objected the enemy’s strength—cuirasses,— and the consideration, which had unaccountably, he said, escaped the Commander in chief, that his regiment were “all gentlemen!!” This diverting response was carried back to Lord Wellington: who dispatched the messenger again to say, that if the gentlemen would take post on an eminence, which he pointed to in the rear, they would have an excellent view of the battle; and he would leave the choice of a proper time to charge, entirely to their own sagacity and discretion, in which he had the fullest confidence. The colonel actually thanked the aid-du-camp for this distinguished post of honour, and followed by his gallant train, with their very high plumes, (the present great point of continental military foppery), was out of danger in a moment.

IN the course of the Monday, the news of the defeat of the French arrived; and on the following day my friend and his wife returned to Brussels. On the Wednesday he visited the field of Waterloo. His account of it is dreadful!—The first thing which struck him at a distance, was the quantity of caps and hats strewed on the ground. It appeared as if the field had been covered with crows. When he