Tales of suffering in those days cannot vie in magnitude with the tales of to-day, but it is interesting to note that the endurance and patience of the Highlanders, as they lay on the wagons, or came in on foot, fainting with weariness and loss of blood, called forth the remark, as they passed through the street, "the men of your country must be made of iron." It remains to touch on the Highlanders' own account of this battle. It was simple and unpretentious in the extreme. One who had been severely wounded, and was lying on the paving stones, waiting to be attended to, was accosted by an English resident. "How you and your comrades fought!" he said. "Your bravery will be the talk of the world. There is no doubt, as the people here say, you and your countrymen are made of iron." "Hoots, man," replied the Highlander, "need ye mak' sic a din aboot the like o' that? What did we gang oot for but to fecht?" It goes without saying that false reports of any considerable engagement were spread through the countryside, even in those days. A chronicler states that Mercer, when making his way to the scene of action, happened on a Gordon Highlander, toiling painfully along the road, badly wounded in the knee. "Halt!" cried Mercer. "Have you any information? The Belgians tell me that our army has been forced to retreat." "Na, na," replied the Scot; "it's a damned lee! When I cam' awa' they were fechtin', an' they're aye fechtin' yet." With that, he sat down on the roadside and calmly lit his pipe, while a prentice surgeon probed for the bullet in his knee. Another incident preserved in the records of the Gordons is related by a Scotch lady who resided at that time in Antwerp. She had heard reports of a retreat from Quatre Bras, and other mis-statements concerning Mont St. Jean had also reached her ears, all to the effect that the British had suffered severe defeat; that Wellington was dangerously wounded, and that all of any account in our army were either killed or taken prisoners. Moreover, thousands of French troops had entered Brussels, and that on the heels of death and destruction came panic and dismay. Needless to say, this was not true, except in one point only--that 2,000 French _had_ entered Brussels; but it was in the rôle of prisoners, not victors! On the following day the Scotch lady went out in search of news, and was met by a long procession of vehicles laden with the wounded. Not a word of victory could she get on any hand, until she observed, in the very last wagon, a group of Gordon Highlanders, badly wounded, and heavily bandaged. They evidently knew something, for they were throwing their bonnets in the air, and shouting: "Bony's beat! Hurrah for Bonnie Scotland! Hurrah for Merrie England! Bony's beat!" Recognizing the Highland spirit, the lady sought to learn the cause of their excitement, and they told her, between their wild cries of joy, that a rider had just sped by, bringing the glad news of victory.