THE STORY OF A RECRUIT.

quarter-master or something of the kind. I suppose I
had swerved my mare a little to the left to save her
shoulder; but notwithstanding that, the shock nearly
threw me out of the saddle. Another thing was, that
Peggy had snapped, as she galloped up, at the neck of
the French horse, and held a piece of it between her
teeth. Then there was such a shaking of manes and
prancing that we, human fighters, had as much as we
could manage to keep our seats. The cuirassier was
grinding his teeth and swearing in his foreign way; for
every cut which he aimed at Peggy, to make her loose
her hold, was parried by me immediately, though the
force of the blows, which numbed my arm to the shoulder,
showed me that I had no chicken to deal with. At
length the French horse set himself free, but for all that
I could get no nearer to his master, as the creatures
commenced rearing and sparring with their fore-fect,
| like boxers. Finally (I do not know whether to be
proud or sorry) a sudden plunge of Peggy placed me
above the Frenchman, and enabled me to cut him in the
face with a back-hander. He sank stupified on his
horse’s neck, and I saw no more of him. These circum-
stances occurred with such rapidity, that a very few
minutes were occupied. In those few minutes a crisis
had occurred—we were retiring. With our light horses,
we might as well have charged against a stone wall as
against those cuirassiers. We were forced back by sheer
weight. In retreating, I found myself alongside of Joe
Coblins. ‘Captain’s taken,’ said Joe. “And Sam?” I
asked. “Down, and cut to pieces,” was the reply. “ Look
there!” it was poor Sam’s riderless horse aligning with
me, the saddle red with blood. “Look out!” shouted
Joe. It was time I did look out, for the next moment
my brass chin-strap, and half my left ear with it, was
divided by a crappo cuirassier, who was cutting at me
over Sam’s horse, as if I had been a round of beef. One
of my holster-pistols settled that gentleman,—greatly to
my relief—for I could not have done it with my sword-
arm.

Asevery one knows—we were relieved, in covering the
retreat, by the Life Guards. It was not till our broken
ranks were reformed in rear of the Heavies, that I began
to think of Sam. I hope that you will not think worse of
me, when I say that I cried like a child. Poor Joe Coblins,
drunkard as he was, was equally affected with myself. “I
tried all I could, Jack,” said he piteously, “to get near
him. I mastered my man, as you did. But the rear
ranks came on so thick that we had to give way. Sam
wastoorash. I think he wanted to die.” So did I, though
I did’nt tell Joe Coblins so.

Then began the miseries of the retreat. A retreat is
never a very easy or pleasant business under any circum-
stances; but our skilful general had done every thing
possible to remove impediments. The infantry, baggage,
and wounded, had been removed, as I have said previously ;
in fact the whole affair had been most cleverly masked.
The French, naturally, were savage at having been de-
ceived, more especially as one of their best men (Ney) was
at their head, till the arrival of Bony in person.

During the whole of the 17th we were slowly retiring
before the enemy. My own regiment was not again
engaged. The only injury we suffered from the enemy
during this day was an occasional twelve-pound shot
whistling through our retreating squadrons, killing or
dismounting a trooper here and there. Towards night

237

even this ceased. But then we had new enemies to con-
tend with. The rain came down in torrents. And the
mud! I never saw such mud before nor since. It was
different to English mud, thicker, darker. Of course we
were soon as wet as fishes, men, horses, every thing.
Nothing could keep it out. After a time we became 60
soaked, that we could not possibly be wetter. (We had
not unrolled our cloaks.) This we could have put up with,
but when the poor animal under you has to drag its feet
out of the earth at every step, things become, to say the
least, wearisome.

After this fashion we plodded onwards till midnight,
by which time the regiment had arrived at the position
which it was intended to occupy on the morrow.

v.

Ir any thing could be worse than the retreat, it was the
biyouac which followed. Imagine some hundreds of men
and horses crammed together in a field, under a pouring
rain, and told to make themselves as comfortable as they
could.

You must remember that we had none of the comforts
possessed by the young soldiers in the autumn manceuvres
which you have lately been reading about in the news-
papers. We had no waterproof sheets nor tents—nothing
but our cavalry cloaks, already half soakened.

I am afraid that I must hurry over the rest of my tale,
as my old wrist is aching with the constraint.

The events of the great and glorious day which followed
have been told over and over again by better people than
myself. My own share of it was terminated very early
in the afternoon. In making a flank rush with the
object of cutting off some French cavalry (Polish lancers,
I believe) which had been repulsed by the Enniskillens,
I received a pistol-bullet, which broke my sword-arm, and
rendered me quite helpless to defend myself. Fortunately
my bridle-arm was sound ; and glad I was, I can assure
you, to find myself, with arm in sling, in the rear.

Joe Coblins I never saw again. Old Wilkins told me
long afterwards that he was shot in charging a square of |
the Old Guard. He got it somewhere about the head
and was thrown by his horse right among the French |
bayonets, where, of course, he was instantly despatched. |

As for me, I made the best of my way through crowds
of wounded and fugitives, back to Brussels, where I |
delivered up my mare to the proper quarter-master,—
soon after which I fainted with pain and loss of blood.

My wound was a severe one, for the holster pistols
then in use carried a large ball; so that it was a consider-
able time before I was enabled to return to old England. |
Not having lost the use of my arm, my discharge was |
not sweetened by so large a pension as I should otherwise
have received. In fact I was able to resume my employ- |
ment. My pension was only for a few years; but it was
very welcome while I was looking out for something to |

do.

Poor Peggy I lost sight of for years, till one day, in
Clerkenwell, I fancied I caught sight of her at a little |
distance, bowling along between the shafts of a trades-
man’s cart. That was ten years after Waterloo, so that
of course she had been “cast” some time. It was too
far, and the street too crowded, for me to catch up with
her. If I could have done so, however, I would have
given all the money I had in my pockets for one embrace

see