And now, just as the sun is disappearing behind the western hills, Blucher 11 arrives. Years have passed. The Scarlet Letter is no more visible upon this earth. Waterloo is a Scarlet Letter no more. The dim of battle long since has ceased.
Peace reigns victorious.
Peace and calm reign over all. Yet, to our standing at twilights on that memorable field of battle, as the shades of night close in upon him, lingering upon the details of that awful day, the present becomes lost in memories of the past. He hears the roll of the drums, the rattle of musketry, the tread of marching men. The songs of the birds are no longer heard. The waving grain disappears under the footsteps of advancing hosts.