I wished to be a man.
The time soon came,--the morning of Waterloo.

But why describe that momentous battle, on which the fate of the entire world was hanging?
Twice were the Fifty-sixth surrounded by French cuirassiers, and twice did we mow them down by our fire.

I had seven horses shot under me, and was mounting the eighth, when an orderly rode up hastily, touched his cap, and, handing me a despatch, galloped rapidly away.
I opened it hurriedly and read:-- "LET PICTON ADVANCE IMMEDIATELY ON THE RIGHT." I saw it all at a glance.

I had been mistaken for a general officer.
But what was to be done?
Picton's division was two miles away, only accessible through a heavy cross fire of artillery and musketry.

But my mind was made up.
In an instant I was engaged with an entire squadron of cavalry, who endeavored to surround me.