of the whole division,
and Brussels, which had but an hour before echoed with the sound of
the carriages returning from the ball, woke with a start.

With the sound of the bugle was mingled that of the Highland pipes,
and in a few minutes the streets swarmed with the soldiers; for there
was scarce a house but had either officers or men quartered in it. The
upper windows were thrown up and the inhabitants inquired the cause of
the uproar, and soon the whole population were in the streets. There
was no delay. The soldiers had packed their knapsacks before lying
down to sleep, and in a quarter of an hour from the sound of a bugle
the regiments were forming up in the park. They were surrounded by an
anxious crowd. Weeping women were embracing their husbands and lovers;
the inhabitants looked pale and scared, and the wildest rumors were
already circulating among them; mounted officers dashed to and fro,
bugles kept on sounding the assembly; and the heavy rumble of guns was
heard as the artillery came up and took up their appointed position.

In half an hour from the sound of the first warning bugle the head of
the column began to move, just as daylight was breaking. Comparatively
few of the officers of Ralph's regiment were married men, and there
were therefore fewer of those agonizing partings that wrung the hearts
of many belonging to regiments that had been quartered for some time
at home; but Ralph saw enough to convince him that the soldier should
remain a single man at any rate during such times as he is likely to
be called upon for serious service in the field. It was a relief when
the bands of the regiment struck up, and with a light step the troops
marched away from the city where they had spent so many pleasant
weeks.

As the troops marched on their spirits rose--and indeed the British
soldier is always at his gayest when there is a prospect of
fighting--the hum of voices rose along the column, jokes were
exchanged, and there was laughter and merriment. The pace was not
rapid, and there were frequent stoppages, for a long column cannot
march at the same pace as a single regiment; and it was ten o'clock
when they halted at Mount St. Jean, fourteen miles from Brussels. Here
the men sat down by the roadside, opened their haversacks, and partook
of a hasty meal. Suddenly there was a cheer from the rear of the
column. Nearer and nearer it grew, and the regiment leaped to their
feet and joined in the shout, as the Duk