ounded; wagons full remaining in the streets, and many
sitting on _the steps of the houses_, looking round in vain for
immediate succour!

Our escape has been mavellous, for Napoleon's plan was to penetrate to
Bruxelles, and to surprise the Duke and his staff at the ball, when
surrounded by the British _belles_; for he had his spies to report even
the hour of our pastimes, and he reckoned upon a rise of the Belgians in
his favour. For three days and nights we expected the enemy to enter;
treachery reigned around us, and false reports augmented our alarms, as
we knew the terrible numbers of the French forces. It was Bulow and his
corps that protected us from that calamity. On the Saturday we took
refuge within the city, from the scenes of horror before our villa.
Baggage-wagons of the different regiments advancing--the rough chariots
of agriculture, with the dead and the dying, disputing for the
road--officers on horseback wounded! I spoke to one: 'twas Colonel
C----, of the Scotch brigade; he replied with his wonted urbanity to my
inquiries--gave me his hand--"I am shot through the body--adieu for
ever!" He left me petrified with horror, and I saw him no more! One hour
afterwards I sent to his apartment--the gallant veteran had expired as
they lifted him from his horse!

I could not abandon the Baroness and her children in such an hour; but I
must ever gratefully recollect the kind offers of asylum made to me by
my Belgian acquaintance, and for months, they said, had the battle been
lost. It is truly pitiable to see the wounded arriving on foot; a musket
reversed, or the ramrod, serving for a staff of support to the mutilated
frame, the unhappy soldier trailing along his wearied limbs, and perhaps
leading a more severely-wounded comrade, whose discoloured visages
declare their extreme suffering;--their uniforms either hanging in
shreds, or totally despoiled of them by those marauders who ravage a
field of battle in merciless avidity of plunder and murder. These brave
fellows, these steady warriors, so redoubtable a few hours since, are
now sunk into the helplessness of infancy, the feebleness of woman, over
whom man arrogates a power that may not be disputed, but whose solacing
influence in the hour of tribulation and sickness they are willing to
claim.

The Belgian females are in full activity, acting with noble benevolence.
They are running from door to door begging linen, and entreating that it
may be scraped for