‘Wearied, worn out, and exhausted, the French army held their ground, like men prepared to die before their Emperor, but never desert him, when the fearful intelligence was brought to Napoleon that in three days the army had fired ninety-five thousand cannon-balls; that the reserve ammunition was entirely consumed, and but sixteen thousand cannon-balls remained, barely sufficient to maintain the fire two hours longer! What was to be done? No resources lay nearer than Magdeburg or Erfurt. To the latter place the Emperor at once decided on retiring, and at seven o’clock the order was given for the artillery waggons and baggage to pass the defile of Lindenau, and retreat over the Elster, the same order being transmitted to the cavalry and the other corps of the army. The defile was a long and difficult one, extending for two leagues, and traversing several bridges. To accomplish the retreat in safety, Napoleon was counselled to hold the allies in check by a strong force of artillery, and then set fire to the faubourg; but the conduct of the Saxon troops, however deserving of his anger, could not warrant a punishment so fearful on the monarch of that country, who, through every change of fortune, had stood steady in his friendship. He rejected the course at once, and determined on retreating as best he might. ‘The movement was then begun at once, and every avenue that led to the faubourg of Lindenau was crowded by troops of all arms, eagerly pressing onward--a fearful scene of confusion and dismay, for it was a beaten army that fled, and one which until now never had thoroughly felt the horrors of defeat. From seven until nine the columns came on at a quick step, the cavalry at a trot; defiling along the narrow gorge of lindenau, they passed a mill at the roadside, where at a window stood one with arms crossed and head bent upon his bosom. He gazed steadfastly at the long train beneath, but never noticed the salutes of the general officers as they passed along. It was the Emperor himself, pale and care-worn, his low chapeau pressed down far on his brows, and his uniform splashed and travel-stained. For over an hour he stood thus silent and motionless; then throwing himself upon a bed he slept. Yes; amid all the terrible events of that disastrous retreat, when the foundations of the mighty empire he had created were crumbling beneath him, when the great army he had so often led to victory was defiling beaten before him, he laid his wearied head upon a pillow and slept! ‘A terrible cannonade, the fire of seventy large guns brought to bear upon the ramparts, shook the very earth, and at length awoke Napoleon, who through all the din and clamour had slept soundly and tranquilly. ‘“What is it, Duroc?” said he, raising himself upon one arm, and looking up. ‘“It is Swartzenberg’s attack, sire, on the rampart of Halle.”