The grenadier company, stout and steady fellows, formed in line as quick as lightning, pouring a thundering volley into the column of the enemy which was approaching, and the word “_Charge!_” sent us off like rockets. Our line hurried on with a simultaneous shout, and every bayonet met its bloody sheath in a moment. We were supported by the remainder of the regiment, and for several minutes were mixed together, both French and English, tugging at each other fiercely. Our fellows absolutely turned their muskets, and butted and smashed them down, as if dissatisfied with the more silent, but more effective execution of the bayonet. The scene was one of complete confusion; many of our own men were wounded by their comrades' balls from behind, as the surgeon afterwards declared, on comparing them, as they were extracted—he distinguished the British bullets by their greater size in relation to those of the French. The enemy, encouraged by their officers, rallied and fired several times boldly, but were again and again repulsed. The 51st and the 95th on our side attacked from a field, and assisted mainly in deciding the affair. The firing by degrees became less and less, and when our troops had completely chased the French back to their strong hold, they were ordered to return. So ended the sortie of the 6th of August. In returning to our huts we overtook, amongst several of the wounded, Lieutenant R——, of our's, my most intimate friend and companion; he was carried by four of our men, and was on his way to the hospital at West Zuburg. His altered voice, when he called to me, foreboded melancholy consequences. He had been shot in the side by one of the last bullets that the enemy discharged, after having done his duty gallantly, and was in the act of giving them a farewell shout and a farewell volley. As soon as the regiment halted, he was surrounded by his brother officers, and the Colonel particularly attended to him. My friend begged that I might be allowed to accompany him to the hospital, and remain with him during the night, which was readily permitted, and, with a sad farewell from all his brother officers, he was borne along in a blanket. I walked beside him, administering every attention in my power; and in about ten minutes we arrived at the church of West Zuburg, which was appropriated for the field-hospital. My friend was laid down upon some hay, shaken together upon a tombstone in the church. His side was immediately examined by the medical officers on duty, and he was bled; after which his wound was dressed, and a sheet was thrown over him; for, as the weather was very hot, the surgeon would not allow more covering. He did not appear to be in much pain, but felt very much exhausted, and, with his hand holding mine, he fell into a slumber. I sat beside him all the night, wetting his lips whenever he awoke, which, however, was not very often, with what had been delivered to me by the surgeon;—and such a night!—there