scene of blood, lest they should be taken in
requisition to bury the dead; almost every person who came near, being
pressed into that most disgusting and painful service. This general
burying was truly horrible: large square holes were dug about six feet
deep, and thirty or forty fine young fellows stripped to their skins
were thrown into each, pell mell, and then covered over in so slovenly a
manner, that sometimes a hand or foot peeped through the earth. One of
these holes was preparing as I passed, and the followers of the army
were stripping the bodies before throwing them into it, whilst some
Russian Jews were assisting in the spoilation of the dead, by chiseling
out their teeth! an operation which they performed with the most brutal
indifference. The clinking hammers of these wretches jarred horribly
upon my ears, and mingled strangely with the occasional report of
pistols, which seemed echoing each other at stated intervals, from
different corners of the field. I could not divine the meaning of these
shots, till I was informed, that they proceeded from the Belgians, who
were killing the wounded horses. Hundreds of these fine creatures were,
indeed, galloping over the plain, kicking and plunging, apparently mad
with pain, whilst the poor wounded wretches who saw them coming, and
could not get out of their way, shrieked in agony, and tried to shrink
back to escape from them, but in vain. Soon after, I saw an immense
horse (one of the Scotch Greys) dash towards a colonel of the Imperial
Guard, who had had his leg shattered; the horse was frightfully wounded,
and part of a broken lance still rankled in one of its wounds. It rushed
snorting and plunging past the Frenchman, and I shall never forget his
piercing cry as it approached. I flew instantly to the spot, but ere I
reached it the man was dead; for, though I do not think the horse had
touched him, the terror he felt had been too much for his exhausted
frame. Sickened with the immense heaps of slain, which spread in all
directions as far as the eye could reach, I was preparing to return,
when as I was striding over the dead and dying, and meditating on the
horrors of war, my attention was attracted by a young Frenchman, who was
lying on his back, apparently at the last gasp. There was something in
his countenance which interested me, and I fancied, though I knew not
when, or where, that I had seen him before. Some open letters were lying
around, and one was yet gra