The Birmingham age-herald., 1914-11-01
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French held it so well in hand that the Emperor could turn upon Wellington again at : o'clock. st
 The Last Throw
 The early summer sun still granted him a respite of two hours whom he rode down into the valley, where from La Have Sainte, his eye swept the thin and jagged British line. But thele Ereinained to him only SoC0 of his guard Behind that fragment of his invinoible corps, he gath cred the wrecllage of his army putting in his last man for one supreme des- perate effort to turn the tide.
 While he was preparing for the at tack, captain of carabineers deserted his ranks and raced ahead through the hail of shot and shell straight toward the enemy. Raising his right hand as he drew near the British, the traitor cried out Long live the King of Eng land! The redeoats lowered their guns before their strange visitor, who now shouted' Get ready. Napoleon. the scoundrei will be upon you with his guard in less than half an hour!"
 The British line closed up and braoed itself for the assault. Even Napoleon himself might come, for Butcher too, was coming, as every bulldog in the pack well knew.
 Forward moved the little band of French, But even as they went the van
 
 the scene from Papellotte. A thrill of panic ran through the slender ranks of the advancing column. as its members looked into the barrels of Wellington's muzzles in front of them, heard Bulow still pounding upon their flank and saw Butcher moving upon their right.
 But the ringing tones of the masters voice rallied them and aroused thei, Gallic spirit, while couriers were sent over the field to spread the cheering delusion that Grouchy, too, was coming Now the guard went forward as steady as If on review, led by Ney his face begrimed with powder his sword broken, his hat and coat rent by bullets. As he went, his horse was shot from under him for the fifth time that afternoon, and he rolled on the ground, but. struggling to his feet and waving his broken sword, he marched on afoot.
 When the French came within 200 yards the British cannon famed In their faces. Yet the charging battalions did not bend before the yawnlng guns. Many flung themselves upon them and drowned their roar with shouts of vive rEmpereur!'' They swept over the British batteries, and shifting victory at last, rushed on with auickening pace.
 Division commanders cried out to We'll inston for endorsements to save their troops from destruction. But he had
  Iron Duke replied as he stood by the elm tree beside the Brussels road. Hold on to the very last man, so,a as to give the Prussians time to come up.
 The French now, near o'clock, We're close upon the duke himself, when he gave the memorable demand. Stand up guards and make ready. The British Life Guards, who had been lying in wait. sprang from the earth like dragons teeth and opened a muderous fire at 50 paces. still, 4eaping over their own dead and wounded, on came the Gauls to hurl themselves against the pitiless steel, and then staggered back. In that instant when the Old Guard recoiied. the name of Waterloo became forever synonym not of victory, but of defeat.
 The Death Cry
 The death cry of the empire rang out on the evening air, ''The guard gives wayl'' 'The guard gives wayr' For the first time on any field that lamenta- ton ran through the ranks of France, as the stricken guard reeled back, caught in demoralizing cross fire from the vic torious foes who swarmed about it.
 Butchers Prussians were now getting into action and fast working in behind the French, when Wellington rose in his strrups and waved his cooked hat. A, that signal the whole British army poured down Mt. St. Jean and fell upon the recoiling troops.
 Not far from the spot where France has planted memorial sculpture of d wounded eagle, Napoleon, sitting on his little white horse by the wall of La Have Sainte, strove once more and for the last time, to form a martial line He had only one round of shot left for his bat tery. But he pieced together few broken fragments of the guard and rang ing them to three suuares for an orderly retreat, he took his place in the center of one of them.
 As these frail squares retreated across the valley, with the huge British squares pounding against them like hattering