All stood on the highest part of the ground, to witness the arrival of the troops, who were now within a quarter of a mile of them on the main road. A hum arose. Belgian officers galloped down the road, and across the fields in all directions; the duke was seen riding towards his expected soldiers, and the scene was life at all points. The pibroch's sound grew louder; and now the bands of the more distant regiments were heard; and the harmonious bugles of the rifle corps, mingled their sounds with the others. The long red line of Britons is fully before the sight, like a giant stream of blood on the ripe and mellow bosom of the earth. Picton is at its head, and the duke greets the heroic partner of his glory. The first of the regiments passes close to the troopers, and receives a cheer from them, which found a return in the relaxing muscles of the hardy Scots. "What corps is that?" inquired one of the group. "The Royal Highlanders, the 42nd--don't you see they are turned up with blue and gold?" replied another. "And what's this with the yellow facings?" "The old 92nd." "And the other Scotch regiment, with the green and gold?" "The 79th; three as good kilted corps as ever crossed the Tweed. And there's the 95th rifle boys, as green as the wood they are going to take. And there see the 28th,--and the 44th,--and the 32nd;--that's Picton's division; a glorious set of fellows as ever slept." "And who are the fellows all in black?" "The bold Brunswick corps, with death's head on their caps--the _undertakers_ of the French," cried the corporal. Never did a young hero gaze on a gallant army with more enthusiastic feelings, than did Gray upon the troops before him--the sight stirred his heart-strings. They were within shot of their foe, and half an hour should see them in the bloody contest. He sighed to think that his own regiment was not yet come up, with which he might share the glory of the fight. One after the other, the corps entered the fields, across the high corn, from the road, to take up their positions for the battle. Neither cavalry nor artillery had they to support them--their bayonets were their hopes; and their wise general placed them accordingly in squares, and at such distances as that one might support the other, while each would protect itself, independently, if necessary. The rifle corps now advanced, to open the business of the day by firing into a field of tirailleurs. The French were not idle at this time; they advanced in masses--cavalry and infantry; while a roar of cannon, that almost deafened every ear, covered the attack. "They are coming on the centre," cried Gray: "see the cuirassiers--what a body of men! Oh! where is our cavalry?" "Ay," cried a trooper; "and look, what columns of infantry!"