interested in the subject, continually assured me of her complete
devotion to the English.--"Ces maudits François!" cried she one day,
with almost terrific energy, when speaking of Napoleon's army. "If they
should dare come to Brussels, I will tear their eyes out!"--"Oh, aunt!"
sighed her pretty niece; "remember that Louis is a conscript!"--"Silence,
Annette. I hate even my son, since he is fighting against the brave
English!"--This was accompanied with a bow to me; but I own that I
thought Annette's love far more interesting than Madame's Anglicism.

On the 3rd of June, I went to see ten thousand troops reviewed by the
Dukes of Wellington and Brunswick. Imagination cannot picture any thing
finer than the _ensemble_ of this scene. The splendid uniforms of the
English, Scotch, and Hanoverians, contrasted strongly with the gloomy
black of the Brunswick Hussars, whose veneration for the memory of their
old Duke, could be only be equalled by their devotion to his son. The
firm step of the Highlanders seemed irresistible; and as they moved in
solid masses, they appeared prepared to sweep away every thing that
opposed them. In short, I was delighted with the cleanliness, military
order, and excellent appointments of the men generally, and I was
particularly struck with the handsome features of the Duke of Brunswick,
whose fine, manly figure, as he galloped across the field, quite
realized my _beau ideal_ of a warrior. The next time I saw the Duke of
Brunswick was at the dress ball, given at the Assembly-rooms in the Rue
Ducale, on the night of the 15th of June. I stood near him when he
received the information that a powerful French force was advancing in
the direction of Charleroy. "Then it is high time for me to be off,"
said the Duke, and I never saw him alive again. The assembly broke up
abruptly, and in half an hour drums were beating and bugles sounding.
The good burghers of the city, who were almost all enjoying their first
sleep, started from their beds at the alarm, and hastened to the