re. Harry did not see his viscount
again, until three months after, at Bois-le-Duc, when his Grace the Duke
came to take the command, and Frank brought a budget of news from home:
how he had supped with this actress, and got tired of that; how he had
got the better of Mr. St. John, both over the bottle, and with Mrs.
Mountford, of the Haymarket Theatre (a veteran charmer of fifty, with
whom the young scapegrace chose to fancy himself in love); how his
sister was always at her tricks, and had jilted a young baron for an
old earl. "I can't make out Beatrix," he said; "she cares for none of
us--she only thinks about herself; she is never happy unless she is
quarrelling; but as for my mother--my mother, Harry, is an angel." Harry
tried to impress on the young fellow the necessity of doing everything
in his power to please that angel; not to drink too much; not to go into
debt; not to run after the pretty Flemish girls, and so forth, as became
a senior speaking to a lad. "But Lord bless thee!" the boy said; "I
may do what I like, and I know she will love me all the same;" and
so, indeed, he did what he liked. Everybody spoiled him, and his grave
kinsman as much as the rest.

CHAPTER XII.

I GET A COMPANY IN THE CAMPAIGN OF 1706.

On Whit-Sunday, the famous 23rd of May, 1706, my young lord first came
under the fire of the enemy, whom we found posted in order of battle,
their lines extending three miles or more, over the high ground behind
the little Gheet river, and having on his left the little village of
Anderkirk or Autre-eglise, and on his right Ramillies, which has given
its name to one of the most brilliant and disastrous days of battle that
history ever hath recorded.

Our Duke here once more met his old enemy of Blenheim, the Bavarian
Elector and the Marechal Villeroy, over whom the Prince of Savoy had
gained the famous victory of Chiari. What Englishman or Frenchman doth
not know the issue of that day? Having chosen his own ground, having
a force superior to the English, and besides the excellent Spanish and
Bavarian troops, the whole Maison-du-Roy with him, the most splendid
body of horse in the world,--in an hour (and in spite of the prodigious
gallantry of the French Royal Household, who charged through the centre
of our line and broke it,) this magnificent army of Villeroy was utterly
routed by troops that had been marching for twelve hours, and by the
intrepid skill of a commander, who did, indeed, s