ce est blesse--quel malheur!_ Soon after the marshal himself
arrived; he was on foot, and supported by an aid-de-camp. Vinegar was
hastily called for. The marshal had been wounded in the arm by a
cannon-ball, and the pain was so acute that he could not bear the motion
of riding.

The houses in the village were every where plundered, and the
inhabitants kept coming in to solicit assistance. I represented their
distress to an aid-de-camp, who only shrugged his shoulders, and gave
the miserable consolation that it was now impossible for him to put a
stop to the evil.

At length, early on the 19th, we appeared likely to get rid in good
earnest of the monster by which we had been so dreadfully tormented.
All the French hurried in disorder to the city, and our _sauvegarde_
also made preparations to depart. Already did I again behold in
imagination the pikes of the Cossacks. All the subsequent events
followed in rapid succession. My _gens d'armes_ were scarcely gone when
a very brisk fire of sharp-shooters commenced in our neighbourhood. In a
few moments Pomeranian infantry poured from behind through the garden
into the house. They immediately proceeded, without stopping, to the
city. It was only for a few minutes that I could observe with a glass
the confused retreat of the French. Joy at the long wished-for arrival
of our countrymen and deliverers soon called me away. The galling yoke
was now shaken off, probably for ever. I bade a hearty welcome to the
brave soldiers; and, as I saw several wounded brought in, I hastened to
afford them all the assistance in my power. I may ascribe to my
unwearied assiduity the preservation of the life of lieutenant M**, a
Swedish officer, who was dangerously wounded; and by means of it I had
likewise the satisfaction to save the arm of the Prussian captain Von
B***, which, but for that, would certainly have required amputation. On
the other hand, all my exertions in behalf of the Swedish major Von
Doebeln proved unavailing; I had the mortification to see him expire.

I was incessantly engaged with my wounded patients, while more numerous
bodies of troops continued to hasten towards the town. We now thought
ourselves fortunate in being already in the rear of the victorious army;
but the universal cry was, 'What will become of poor Leipzig?' which was
at this moment most furiously assaulted. Various officers of
distinction kept dropping in. The Swedish adjutant-general Gueldenskioeld
arrive