;
the barefooted children still turned upon their axles beside the
carriage wheels as we rolled along, and that other day seemed so far
away, that we could neither bring it near nor realize it. One grim
reminder of the past rose in the distance, and, as we drew near, swelled
and grew before our eyes. It was the huge mound of earth raised two
hundred feet, to commemorate the victory of the allies. Hills were cut
down, the very face of nature changed for miles around, to rear this
monument to pride and vain-glory. Upon its summit crouches the Belgian
lion.

We turn from the paved road, when we have reached what seems to be a
mass of unsightly ruins, with only a tumbling outbuilding left here and
there. The whole is enclosed by a wall, which skirts also an orchard,
neglected, grown to weeds. The carriage stops before the great gates. It
is very cool and quiet in the shaded angle of the battered wall as we
step down. It has been broken and chipped as if by pick-axes. Ah! the
shot struck hardest here. The top of the low wall is irregular; the
bricks have been knocked out; the dust has sifted down; the mosses have
gathered, and a fringe of grass follows all its length. Even sweet wild
flowers blossom where the muskets rested in those dreadful days. At
intervals, half way up its height, a brick is missing. Accident? Ah, no;
hastily constructed loopholes, through which the English fired at first,
before the horrible time when they beat each other down with the butts
of their guns while they fought hand to hand here, like wild beasts.

We enter the court-yard. Only a roughly plastered room or two remain,
where the greed that gloats even over the field of blood offers
_souvenirs_ of the place importunately. In the centre of this court-yard
may still be seen the well that was filled with corpses. It must have
given out blood for many a day. Upon one side are the remains of the
building used for a hospital in the beginning of the fight, but where
the wounded and dying perished in torment, when the French succeeded in
firing the chateau; for this is _Hougomont_.

We came out at the gateway where we had entered; crossed the slope under
the shadow of the branches from the apple trees, and followed the road
winding through wheat-fields to The Mound. Breast-high on either side
rose the nodding crests; and among them wild flowers, purple, scarlet,
and blue, fairly dazzled our eyes, as they waved with the golden grain
in the sunshine.