The waters subsided in the night as quickly as they had risen, but at daylight a living stream of French grenadiers glided swiftly down the bed of the river, and as if assured of victory, arrived, without shout or tumult, within a few yards of the walls, when, instead of quitting the hollow, to reach the breach, they, like the torrent of the night, continued their rapid course and dashed against the portcullis. The British soldiers, who had hitherto been silent and observant, as if at a spectacle which they were expected to applaud, now arose, and with a crashing volley smote the head of the French column! The leading officer, covered with wounds, fell against the portcullis and gave up his sword through the bars to colonel Gough; the French drummer, a gallant boy, who was beating the charge, dropped lifeless by his officer’s side, and the dead and wounded filled the hollow. The remainder of the assailants then breaking out to the right and left, spread along the slopes of ground under the ramparts and opened a quick irregular musketry. At the same time, a number of men coming out of the trenches, leaped into pits digged in front, and shot fast at the garrison, but no escalade or diversion at the other points was made, and the storming column was dreadfully shattered. For the ramparts streamed forth fire, and from the north-eastern tower a field-piece, held in reserve expressly for the occasion, sent, at pistol-shot distance, a tempest of grape whistling through the French masses, which were swept away in such a dreadful manner, that they could no longer endure the destruction, but plunging once more into the hollow returned to their camp, while a shout of victory, mingled with the sound of musical instruments, passed round the wall of the town. [Sidenote: 1812. January.] [Sidenote: General Campbell’s Correspondence, MSS.]