About one hundred and fifty of the Old French Guard in their flight ran down a street which was one of the few that had escaped the fury of the morning attack, and the further end of which, unknown to them, had been barricaded by our troops the night before. Shut up thus in a complete _cul-de-sac_, the result may be easily imagined;—it was a frightful slaughter, but it was unavoidable. Troops advancing to assault a town, flushed, indeed, with victory, but uncertain whether that victory may not be wrenched the next minute from their grasp, have no time to deliberate. Some of the French Guard sought a vain refuge in bursting open the houses and ascending the chimneys, but their enemies were too close at their heels for them to succeed. This attack was headed by Lieutenant George Johnston, who, not satisfied with clearing one street, immediately proceeded to the next, where the enemy still made a show of resistance, and at length carried away by feelings very natural at such a moment, he climbed up to the top of a stone cross, erected in a square at the river’s edge, and taking off his hat waved it in defiance towards the enemy. The French, however, made no further effort to recover the place, but confined themselves to a heavy cannonade which they continued to pour into the streets, utterly regardless of its murderous effects upon their own wounded. From this cannonade the men of the EIGHTY-EIGHTH were ordered by Colonel the Honourable Edward Pakenham to shelter themselves, when they took a position behind a wall in the rear of the chapel, and soon afterwards evacuated the town, which was occupied by the light division under Brigadier-General Robert Craufurd.