unications, that the horses of Concombre's
dragoons in turn took fright, and those warriors in their turn broke and
fled. As soon as they turned, the Vendean riflemen fired amongst them
and finished them: the gallant Concombre fell; the intrepid though
diminutive Cornichon, his major, was cut down; Cardon was wounded a la
moelle, and the wife of the fiery Navet was that day a widow. Peace to
the souls of the brave! In defeat or in victory, where can the soldier
find a more fitting resting-place than the glorious field of carnage?
Only a few disorderly and dispirited riders of Concombre's regiment
reached Tours at night. They had left it but the day before, a thousand
disciplined and high-spirited men!

Knowing how irresistible a weapon is the bayonet in British hands, the
intrepid Jenkins determined to carry on his advantage, and charged the
Saugrenue light infantry (now before him) with COLD STEEL. The Frenchmen
delivered a volley, of which a shot took effect in Jenkins's cockade,
but did not abide the crossing of the weapons. "A Frenchman dies, but
never surrenders," said Saugrenue, yielding up his sword, and his whole
regiment were stabbed, trampled down, or made prisoners. The blood of
the Englishmen rose in the hot encounter. Their curses were horrible;
their courage tremendous. "On! on!" hoarsely screamed they; and a second
regiment met them and was crushed, pounded in the hurtling, grinding
encounter. "A Jenkins, a Jenkins!" still roared the heroic Duke: "St.
George for Mayfair!" The Footmen of England still yelled their terrific
battle-cry, "Hurra, hurra!" On they went; regiment after regiment
was annihilated, until, scared at the very trample of the advancing
warriors, the dismayed troops of France screaming fled. Gathering
his last warriors round about him, Nemours determined to make a last
desperate effort. 'Twas vain: the ranks met; the next moment the
truncheon of the Prince of Orleans was dashed from his hand by the
irresistible mace of the Duke Jenkins; his horse's shins were broken by
the same weapon. Screaming with agony the animal fell. Jenkins's hand
was at the Duke's collar in a moment, and had he not gasped out, "Je me
rends!" he would have been throttled in that dreadful grasp!

Three hundred and forty-two standards, seventy-nine regiments, their
baggage, ammunition, and treasure-chests, fell into the hands of the
victorious Duke. He had avenged the honor of Old England; and himself
presenting the