The Duke generally rode alone, or rather without having any one by his side, and rarely spoke, unless to send a message or to give orders; sometimes he would suddenly turn round and glide past his followers; halting occasionally, and apparently paying no attention to his own troops, his Grace would observe through his telescope those of the enemy, which the docile Copenhagen appeared perfectly to understand, from his showing no impatience nor getting restive. The troops had been previously placed in their respective positions, and afterwards the cavalry dismounted. About this time, the French bands struck up, so that we could distinctly hear them. I have no doubt, this was the moment when Napoleon assembled all his generals, and forming a circle, placed himself in the centre, and gave his orders. This was in the hamlet of La Maison-du-Roi, about a mile in the rear of his centre. Not long after, the enemy’s skirmishers, backed by their supports, were thrown out; extending as they advanced, they spread over the whole space before them. Now and then, they saluted our ears with well-known music, the whistling of musket-balls. Their columns, preceded by mounted officers to take up the alignments, soon began to appear; the bayonets flashing over dark masses at different points, accompanied by the rattling of drums and the clang of trumpets. Could any one behold so imposing a spectacle without awe, or without extreme excitement? Could any one witness the commencement of the battle with indifference? Can any one forget the impressions that are made upon the mind at such a moment? What a magnificent sight! Napoleon the Great, marshalling the chosen troops of France, against those of Britain and her allies under the renowned Wellington! Here, on one side, were the troops that had held nearly all Europe in bonds, and by whom kings and princes had been humbled and deposed; and although it was not the first time that many of us had faced them, yet, on the present occasion, they were under the immediate command of their idolized Napoleon. It was impossible to contemplate so formidable a power in battle array, without a feeling of admiration towards such noble antagonists. It presented altogether a sight that must be seen and felt to be duly appreciated, a sight that “survivors recollect in after-years.” Such a scene fires the blood of the brave, and excites feelings and hopes, compared with which, all other emotions are cold and powerless: “To him who’s born for battle’s strife, Or bard of martial lay, ’Twas worth ten years of peaceful life, One glance at this array.”