The French now brought up battery after battery, and a tremendous cannonading was kept up by both sides for some time. The effect was grand and exciting. Our position was a happy one, for all their shot which grazed short, came and struck in the perpendicular bank of our gravel-pit--and only one struck amongst us, breaking the traversing handspike at one of the guns, but neither injuring man nor horse. Our fire was principally directed against their masses as we could see them, which was not always the case from the smoke that, for want of wind, hung over them; then against their smaller parties that had advanced into the valley to skirmish with the rear-guard of our cavalry. Here for the second and last time I saw Napoleon, though infinitely more distant than in the morning. Some of my non-commissioned officers pointed their guns at the numerous cortège accompanying him as they stood near the road by Belle Alliance; and one, pointed by old Quartermaster Hall, fell in the midst of them. At the moment we saw some little confusion amongst the group, but it did not hinder them from continuing the reconnaissance. Whilst we were thus engaged, a man of no very prepossessing appearance came rambling amongst our guns, and entered into conversation with me on the occurrences of the day. He was dressed in a shabby old drab greatcoat and a rusty round hat. I took him at the time for some amateur from Brussels (of whom we had heard there were several hovering about), and thinking many of his questions rather impertinent, was somewhat short in answering him, and he soon left us. How great was my astonishment on learning soon after that this was Sir Thomas Picton! The enemy, finding us obstinate in maintaining our position, soon slackened, and then ceased firing altogether; and we were immediately ordered to do the same, and establish ourselves in bivouac for the night. This we proceeded to obey as a most welcome order, and retiring from our position down the hill, came to a large farm, where, breaking through a quickset hedge, we formed our park in the adjoining orchard, preferring its green turf to the plashy, muddy fields around, that morning covered with fine crops of wheat, now little better than sloughs. We were not long, however, in discovering that it was only exchanging the frying-pan for the fire, since our smiling turf was nearly ankle-deep in water, the orchard lying low and hollow, somewhat below the level of the road. But it was already growing dark, consequently too late to hunt out another, so we were obliged to put up with it. Thoroughly wet--cloaks, blankets, and all--comfort was out of the question, so we prepared to make the best of it.