The French, reinforced by the whole Sixth Corps, now came forward at a quick-step.

Dashing through the ruined streets of the lower town, they crossed the rivulet, fighting bravely, and charged against the height.
Already their leading files had gained the crag beside the chapel.

A French colonel holding his cap upon his sword-point waved on his men.
The grizzly features of the grenadiers soon appeared, and the dark column, half-climbing, half-running, were seen scaling the height.

A rifle-bullet sent the French leader tumbling from the precipice; and a cheer--mad and reckless as the war-cry of an Indian--rent the sky, as the 71st and 79th Highlanders sprang upon the enemy.
Our part was a short one; advancing in half squadrons, we were concealed from the observation of the enemy by the thick vineyards which skirted the lower town, waiting, with impatience, the moment when our gallant infantry should succeed in turning the tide of battle.

We were ordered to dismount, and stood with our bridles on our arms, anxious and expectant.