that the Guards were coming quickly. As he spoke, Sir John Moore was struck to the ground by a cannon-ball, which lacerated his left shoulder and chest.

He had half-raised himself, when Hardinge having dismounted, caught his hand: and the General grasped his strongly, and gazed with anxiety at the Highlanders, who were fighting courageously: and when Hardinge said, "They are advancing,' his countenance lightened.

Colonel Graham now came up, and imagined, from the composure of the General's features, that he had only fallen accidentally, until he saw blood welling from his wound. Shocked at the sight, he rode off for surgeons. Hardinge tried in vain to stop the effusion of blood with his sash: then, by the help of some Highlanders and Guardsmen, he placed the General upon a blanket. In lifting him, his sword became entangled, and Hardinge endeavoured to unbuckle the belt to take it off; when he said with soldierly

feelings,
'it should go out of the field with me.'

It is as well as it is; I had rather

His serenity was so striking, that Hardinge began to hope the wound was not mortal; he expressed this opinion, and said, that he trusted the surgeons would confirm it, and that he would still be spared to them.

Sir John turned his head, and cast his eyes steadily on the wounded part, and then replied, No, Hardinge, I feel that to be im'possible. You need not go with me; re'port to General Hope, that I am wounded ' and carried to the rear.' He was then raised from the ground by a Highland serjeant and three soldiers, and slowly conveyed towards Corunna.

Meanwhile, the action continued with relentless fury, and was conducted by General Hope with skill and resolution. Soult, seeing the miscarriage of the attack on the British right wing, made a vigorous effort with his masses against the centre. But some pieces of cannon, judiciously planted, furrowed his

columns, which were received steadily by the
British line, and forced back in confusion.

On the left, the ground was disadvanta-
geous for the enemy, and their resistance
there was feeble. For a village occupied by
them was attacked and carried, which ex-
posed that flank; while Paget, who had
turned the other, was intrepidly pressing four-
ward, and the enemy's centre was also driven
back. For the movements which had been
concerted were, without a failure, correctly
and courageously executed; and the French.
defeated on all sides, sought refuge on the
high ridge of hills from which they had de-
scended. Night put a stop to their pursa't
by the victorious British.

It is now necessary to resume the melancholy recital, which I had broken offigy. The soldiers had not carried Sir Joha Moore far, when two surgeons came ring to his aid. They had been employed in dressing the shattered arm of Sir David Baird; who, hearing of the disaster which had occurred to the commander, generously

VOL. II.

ordered them to desist, and hasten to give him help. But Moore, who was bleeding fast, said to them, You can be of no service 'to me: go to the wounded soldiers, to whom 'you may be useful;' and he ordered the bearers to move on. But as they proceeded, he repeatedly made them turn round to view the battle, and to listen to the firing; the sound of which, becoming gradually fainter, indicated that the French were retreating.

Before he reached Corunna, it was almost dark, and Colonel Anderson met him; who, seeing his general borne from the field of battle for the third and last time, and steeped in blood, became speechless with anguish. Moore pressed his hand, and said in a low tone; Anderson, don't leave me.' As he was carried into the house, his faithful servant François came out, and stood aghast with horror: but his master, to console him, said smiling, My friend, this is nothing.'

He was then placed on a mattress on the floor, and supported by Anderson, who had saved his life at St. Lucia; and some of the

gentlemen of his staff came into the room by turns. He asked each, as they entered, if the French were beaten, and was answered affirmatively. They stood around; the pain of his wound became excessive, and deadly paleness overspread his fine features; yet, with unsubdued fortitude, he said, at intervals, Anderson, you know that I have 'always wished to die this way. I hope the 'people of England will be satisfied! I hope my country will do me justice!

Anderson, you will see my friends as soon C as you can. Tell them every thing.

Say to my mother.' Here his voice faltered, he became excessively agitated, and not being able to proceed, changed the subject.

Hope!*-Hope! I have much to say to ‹ him—but cannot get it out. Are Colonel Graham †, and all my aides-de-camp, 'safe?' (At this question, Anderson, who

* Sir John Hope, who succeeded to the command; afterwards the Earl of Hopetown.

+Of Balgowan, now Lord Lynedoch.