iety and not a little depression of spirits news
from the battle-field was now awaited, but the suspense did not last
long, for presently came the cheering intelligence that the French
were retiring, being forced back by the Pomeranian corps, and some of
the lately broken right wing organizations, that had been rallied on
the heights of Gravelotte. The lost ground being thus regained, and
the French having been beaten on their right, it was not long before
word came that Bazaine's army was falling back to Metz, leaving the
entire battle-field in possession of the Germans.

During the excitement of the day I had not much felt the want of
either food or water, but now that all was over I was nearly
exhausted, having had neither since early morning. Indeed, all of
the party were in like straits; the immense armies had not only eaten
up nearly everything in the country, but had drunk all the wells dry,
too, and there seemed no relief for us till, luckily, a squad of
soldiers came along the road with a small cask of wine in a cart.
One of the staff-officers instantly appropriated the keg, and
proceeded to share his prize most generously. Never had I tasted
anything so refreshing and delicious, but as the wine was the
ordinary sour stuff drunk by the peasantry of northern France, my
appreciation must be ascribed to my famished condition rather than to
any virtues of the beverage itself.

After I had thus quenched my thirst the King's, brother called me
aside, and drawing from his coat-tail pocket a piece of stale black
bread, divided it with me, and while munching on this the Prince
began talking of his son--General Prince Frederick Charles, popularly
called the Red Prince--who was in command of the Second Army in this
battle--the German left wing. In recounting his son's professional
career the old man's face was aglow with enthusiasm, and not without
good cause, for in the war between Prussia and Austria in 1866, as
well as in the present campaign, the Red Prince had displayed the
highest order of military genius.

The headquarters now became the scene of much bustle, despatches
announcing the victory being sent in all directions. The first one
transmitted was to the Queen, the King directing Count Bismarck to
prepare it for his signature; then followed others of a more official
character, and while these matters were being attended to I thought I
would ride into the village to find, if possible, some water for my