The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1901-11-21
ole PASSING Of
~ 66e EMPIRE.
LEAVES FROM THE
MEMOIRS OF AN
AIDE TO NAPOLEON,

DOo0D -
Rome; Caesar besieging Vercingetorix.
or charging his countrymen at Phar-
salia; these are the marvels of human
ability and human prowess that will
go down to the end of time in history,
but however long or short the list may
be, it must include the last charge of
Napoleon's Old Guard at Waterloo or
it will not be complete.
The guard swept past a low hill,
where stood group of officers glitter
ing with finery. Out from the others
little way, small man, dressed very
plainly, was seated on gray horse.
The emperor. A sea of sabre blades
fills the air. A hoarse roar shakes the
earth: "Vioe J. Empereur!" 1t was
their last tribute to the man they loved
so we'll. Caesar, we who are about to
die salute thee! The emperor bowed
slightly and lifted his hat.
Cold, passionless, the iron Caesar
gazed upon them. They were but a
unit to him in vast force called
France. Did the Old Guard perish !?
He would create another. Did hell
defy him? He would beat its gates in
with his musket butts. Did Europe
mock him? He would crush it with a
pyramid of bayonets. Yet he loved
the Old Guard in his way. They had
carried his eagles across three con-
tinents, but he sacrificed them when
the hour called for it. Yes, "Vace
Emperor" they said, as they swept
by.
AS the guard passed the long lines of
yellow, muddy trenches, the lines of
muddy men stood up, waved their
muddy hats and cheered vigorously
"Au trot!' came the order; the guard
moved faster and faster. A huge
machine of flesh and steel moving with
frightful momentum towards the
entrenched heights. Nothing but God
or death could stop them now. The
British flag on the heights still futtered,
futtered, huttered.
Faster and faster they went. Their
| fighting blood was at fever heat now;
one tall trooper was screaming the
"Morseilzaise" at the top of his voice.
Others were singing little Partisan
street songs. Others were cursing
copiously. The conscript noticed one
fellow who cursed every body in the
British army, from the commander in
chief down, and when he got through
he carefully went over the list to make
sure he had not missed any, The
Partisan street songs brought picture
| of Paris to the cOnscript's mind as he
saw it the night before he left; long
vistas OF brilliantly lighted streets
filled with joyous throngs and soldiers
everywhere; occasionally in the dis
tance, the rolling of drums. He seemed
to see the gardens of the Luxembourg
again as he once saw them on a fair
spring day. The throngs of merry
makers, the shady trees, the children
chattering and playing on the green
grass.
The hills were very near now. On
the heights silence. They awaited the
death struggle. They knew the Old
Guard.
Such was the condition of this roar
ing, singing, cursing body of reckless
dare-devils when they struck thesunken
road of Ohain. The cOnscript had a
brief glimpse of a great yawning ditch,
filled to the top with bloody mass of
mangled men and horses. He spurred
his horse across roadway composed
of human limbs and faces. "My Godr
he exclaimed again and again.
The next instant the Old Guard
struck the slope leading up to the
British guns. 1t was still slippery from
the morning rain but they fought their
way upward, inch by inch, as the young
Alexander fought his way up the slope
lof Granicus twenty-three centuries