"At the end of the night I was sent to collect what men I could that had gone off with the wounded, and all that were left with the regiment was 16 officers and men.

"I buried 8 officers the next day. Trotter was the first, he was shot through the heart; I have written to his brother-in-law, and said I would pay his bills and remit home the money that arose from his things being sold. I have bought Colonel Hamilton's horse, which is a very fine one, 5 years old and fit to carry 15 stone, for £55; he refused £100 for him often. When the bills for Trotter's things are given, I shall send them either to you or the agent. I lost some of my things, many officers their whole baggage. The Belgian cavalry ran off to Brussels, saying the Army was defeated, and took our baggage from the men by force; such a scene never was witnessed; the road at last got blocked with waggons, and the Brunswick Hussars and the Belgians seized upon everything. Let me hear from you as soon as possible. Write to my father when you get this and say I am well. I shall write you next from Paris, which is only 100 miles off, and with love to the children,

"Believe me,
"Yours truly,
"A. J. Hamilton.

"To Captain Lawson."

Letter from Cornet Clape (age 16), Scots Greys, to his Mother a week after the Battle of Waterloo.

"My dear Mother,

"I am afraid my long silence may have occasioned you some uneasiness, particularly as the list of killed and wounded was so long making its appearance. I would have written the day after the battle, but where could I find pen and ink, in the middle of a cornfield that was occupied the night before by the enemy.

"I have certainly delayed writing to you this week, as I wanted to date my letter from Paris, which we have been expecting to enter every day. As you must now be certain that I have escaped without a broken head, and, as to my health, I could not enjoy better, you may perhaps wish for the history of our proceedings since we left Dunderhauten.

"On the morning of the 15th we were roused from a most comfortable sleep by the sound of Bugles, and noise of Sergeants crying 'Turn out,' 'Turn out!' We understood that the enemy had in some fear of our pickets, and that we were to march about 15 miles, which we did, when we were ordered to move on with all possible speed to the field of action. We could hear the firing distinctly. We got to Ne——lles about nine at night. The firing had almost ceased, they were bringing in the wounded by hundreds. We arrived on the field of Battle at 12 o'clock, where we bivouacked, after having marched upwards of 50 miles. I rolled my cloak round me, and laid down in some rye, where I slept as sound as ever I did in my life. On the morning of the 17th the firing commenced early, chiefly skirmishing. We could not see much of it, as we were covered by some rising ground. About 12 the Cavalry and Artillery took up positions upon the heights, to cover the retreat of the Infantry. We commenced our march in their rear about 4 o'clock, going through Jenappes: the rain fell in torrents. We soon after moved into the cornfields, where we what they called shewed a front, retiring, then fronting again. It was here that I first heard the whizzing of a Ball (there is really something very grand about it). They were coming pretty fast and very near us: however we had not a man killed, or wounded. At 7 we halted. The firing had ceased. We had touched nothing since we left Dunderhau—but a little bread and some . Luckily we were near a very large farm house, that supplied us with wood and straw. Such a scene of destruction I never before witnessed. Ploughs, Harrows, Chairs, Tables, everything that would burn was brought out to make fires. The straw was unthrashed. Old sows, little pigs, calves and cows, all shared the same fate. I got a calves kidney, and although it was not dressed in style (for one half of it was raw) I made a very dainty meal of it.

"Oh: the night: what could be more uncomfortable. It began raining again at 10, and we had nothing but our cloaks to cover us, which were soaked in half an hour. On the morning of the 18th, the clouds began to break, the sun made his appearance, and with good fires we soon got dry. At 10 the firing commenced, we then moved to the bottom of the Hill, where Colonel Hankins (?) Horse came down with him crossing a ditch: he was severely hurt: we were just in the range of the 12 Pounders. We were ordered up the Hill, and after 3 hours, charged the enemy in the finest style possible. The men were only too impetuous, nothing could stop them, they all separated, each man fought by himself. I received a bullet from a Frenchman not 20 yards from me: it went through my cloak, and lodged in my saddle, which it has completely spoiled. I was the last person with Colonel Hamilton, who was just like a madman. He was crying 'Halt, Halt, the Greys,' when there was none to be seen. He then galloped completely into the French Lines, where I thought it time to leave him; and make the best of my way back, which by the greatest good fortune I effected. If we had been supported by the Light Dragoons, we should have lost very few, and done three times the execution. After we had collected all we could of the two Brigades, we retired behind a wood, where we remained till 4 o'clock in the afternoon, when we were ordered to the right. Talk of the charge, I say it was a farce to this; this tried a soldier: we were formed upon a hill facing the enemy, receiving his whole force of Artillery and Musketry, without being able to return a shot. Really the Bullets came as thick as Hail, the men were dropping on all sides, here we were until half-past seven, diminishing every moment. We seemed to be placed there only to be shot at, and the enemy threatening to charge us every instant with 6 times our number. We thought all was lost, yet all resolved to stand to the last. How can I express, my dear Mother, what we felt at seeing the Light Dragoons and Artillery come up, and in an instant saw the whole French Army in a rout. I must leave it to your own imagination. Our Regiment was only 36 strong when we marched to this Mount, when we left it we could only muster 14. Colonel Clarke had two horses shot under him, and was wounded himself. Major Vernon was wounded. Major Cheney had five horses shot under him, and kept mounting the fresh ones with the same coolness that he would had they been at his own stable door. My old mare received three slight wounds. One was a bullet through her ear. Poor Whindham was shot through the foot in the charge, he is doing well. What a scene did the field of action present to our view. The wounded groaning, the dead cut up in a most hideous manner. Horses standing upon three legs, you could not go a step without stumbling over something. We that night occupied the very ground that the enemy had bivouacked upon the previous night, and much obliged to them we were for the huts they had left us. Since that time we have been taking forced marches, and are now quartered at N——, six miles from Paris. Sergeant Ewart of the Greys took the Eagle."