CHAP. VII.] THE BRUTE. 225 



space and breadth the horizon, the wood, the hollows, and the road. 

 I realize the colour the green of the grass and of the springing corn, 

 with their different shades, the darker wood, the red and the blue of 

 the massed troops, the glitter of helmet, bayonet, and scabbard, the 

 flash of sabres, the lightning and black storm of the guns, great and 

 small. I seem to hear the sounds. The din of roaring culverin and 

 bursting missile, the noise of men and of horses, the far-off rushing, 

 audible and desperate, so far away how clear they come back ! 

 And I distinguish in my fancy all the movements and manoeuvres of 

 that hard-fought day : the charges, the melees, the retreats, the pur 

 suits. Many a slight and momentary scene or sound revives the 

 gallant rider throwing up his arms as the fatal bullet found him out, 

 the plumed hat with which the field officer waved on his men, the mad 

 riderless horse that galloped my way, the wild shriek that once and 

 again had come up out of the uproar and appalled me. It all remains ; 

 not perhaps as fresh to-day as it was yesterday, but quite unmistafce- 

 able; and it is probable that I shall carry it with me to my last 

 moments. If I lose any of the details I can often recall them by first 

 of all recalling what preceded or followed one fragment of the picture 

 suggests another. And even if I meet with similar details in quite 

 other scenes, my battle is brought back to my imagination. The 

 harmless firing of volunteer artillery recalls the fearful volleys of that 

 day. I cannot see the smoke of a weed fire hanging in the air of a 

 March afternoon, or watch the mists curling along the sides of a 

 wooded hill after rain, without having the lurid canopy of that field in 

 my thought again. When I mount a church tower, and look out over 

 Yorkshire wold or Cornish moor, I range my armies as they once 

 stood on another plain far away. The smell of the blue-bells never 

 fails to make me think of that day, for there was a patch of blue-bells 

 under the trees by my post of observation. Whenever I see again that 

 peculiar arrangement of the clouds that marked one moment of the 

 day, I recollect the tremendous rush of cavalry there was just then. 

 Nay, if I had reason during the fight to fear for my own life or safety, 

 there are moments when a tremor of my nerves, proceeding from fear 

 or ill-health, or from surprise, will carry me back from the midst of a 

 crowd and from the engrossment of interesting conversation to the 

 moment when I stood solitary and anxious so long before upon the 

 tower.&quot; 



He goes on : 



Let us suppose that the man who witnessed the battle already 

 mentioned had lived for several years after it, and neither during its 

 occurrence nor since had travelled out of the region of impressions 

 and reproduction described above. And let it be supposed that one 

 day under circumstances of peculiar quietness and solitude, there 

 suddenly arose within his mind a rcflection-the reflection, for in- 



