The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1880-12-18
WATERLOO.
How tn. Field Leos. 10 /. Yankee vi.

how tne kteIu Lo0ks 10 q YANKEE Wis.,
itor.
From the Springfield Republican,
Waiting now at the station to take the route
to Waterloo, horde of convent children go
clacking by in wooden shoes. We ride third
class, taking an excursion ticket A pretty
girl sits next to me with rank Limburger
cheese on the seat between us. She laughs and
complains of it and tries to push it away, as il
it did not belong TO her. Twelve miles and we
are at famous Waterloo. Dismounting from
the train we. see, three miles away, huge
mound. This monstrosity rises like an Egypt
ian pyramid and overlooks the region far
around. 1t covers the spot where the Prince
Of Orange, "Brunswick's fated chieftain,'' was
wounded and marked the point OF termination
of the battle; it was three years in process of
erection; is quadrilateral in shape and sur
mounted by the Belgic lion in bronze. We set
off on our feet TO the village patch near by, a
mere handful of houses; il is Waterloo. Then
detouring through it bear directly for the bat
tlefield. Passing over the eobbled streets, q
guide is pointing out the secrets of the past TO
group Of English travellers. We move on,
now aud then stopping by the way to rest and
look at the wind-mills whose long revolving
arms fan the land, and We watch the little Bel
g;e who clatter on the cobbles. in their slipshod
sabots. The land here with magnificent sweep
rolls from ridge to ridge, and where these bill
lows of earth tide up, one view the whole
region round. Avenues of slim, tall trees
TdheTSc tile utlu5 dtiu lLulCdttstIc WduQ6TlQB
roads. Now the English party, in coach and
cab, roll grandIy by, all outside and looking
down compassionately upon US. No fences in
sight, only the beautiful land with its after
maths Of clover and grain. For the most part
thick grass covers the field with daisies looking
mp in the midst We smble along under tall
trees, with sunshine and shower and a cool
wind gently airing the day. There on our left
are the woods through which Blucher came to
the rescue, and woods they still remain.
The mighty mound, shut out by houses and
trees, seems to keep its distance till after an
hours plodding we come to the lesser monu-
ments which to-day garrison the tield One is
in honor of the Hadoyerians, the other to
the English Col. Gordon, Wellington's
aide-de-camp, erected by his own family. 1t
has evidently been overthrown and shattered,
but reset and Inended. We hurry up the
mound over well-set stairway Of stones. An
old guide, who of course claims to be a relic Of
the battle, seizes rs and hurriedly sketches be-
fore us a few points of interest. We are look
ing off toward Paris. Yonder to the right lay
the French, stretching from the chateau de
Hougoumont, where Jerome Bonaparte COM
manded, southwark to the farm of La Haye
Sainte, the ground of Napoleon himself. Hith-
erward lay the allied forces, and down there be-
hind this awful mound was the bloody corn
field which thessEnglish guard held 30 stubborn
ly. Wellington found the ground much changed
only two years after the battle. The ravine,
that swallowed up many cuirassiers in the
terrible charge under Ney, is filed up or razed,
but others yet remain to indicate the lay Of the
land at that time. Byron refers to this catas-
trophe to the French in the line, "Rider and
horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent r.
The festivities at Brussels referred to in Childe
Harold, was the last night but ono before the
battle, probably the evening Of the 10th, as
Waterloo was fought June 18th, 1915. The
view from the summit of the mound, $50 feet
high, covers vast arena of clear, beautiful
country. The guide, holding me fercely by
the arm, points with his skinny fingers here
and there in most excited, dramatic way and
with an accompaniment of broken English, till
can almost see the shades Of the battle dark
and red rise before me-
The rain lightly falls and we hasten down
"the false monumental pile" Victor Huffol,
and hurry to the station at Braine d'Allend,
three miles away. Passing the museum where
relics are made and sold, and crossing fine
avenue of trees that skirt the north part Of the
field, we plod through the ravines in mud and
rain. Two men are working in the plowed
field; one comes to the verge of the high ridge
and extends his hand. stop and say 'spour
quoi2" He replies. "tabac," meaning l sup
pose that he would like some Of our American
tobacco. The storm is now furious and we
crouch with our umbrellas under bushes and
banks and take such a pe1ting OF thunder,
lightning and rain as will long help our memory
of Waterloo