able to stem the rapid course of these two heroes, if an army of one hundred thou-
sand of our best troops--posted between two roads, trebly entrenched, and per-
forming their duty as well as brave men could do--were not able to stop them
one day? Will you not, then, own with me, that they surpass all the heroes of
former ages?"

With his usual humanity, Marlborough's first care, at the close of the action,
was the relief of the wounded. Three thousand Frenchmen who lay on the field
shared his attention, with the wounded of his own army; and he immediately ar-
ranged means for conveying them away. Still, next morning--the day set apart
for burying the slain--notwithstanding his care, when riding over the field he saw
among the heaps which covered the plain, not only the numerous bodies of the
slain, but of the dying also. Nor did he feel only for the sufferings of his com-
panions in arms; the groans of wounded enemies, and the sight of their mangled
limbs, equally awakened his compassion. Learning also, that many French offi-
cers and soldiers had crept into the neighboring houses and woods, wounded, and
in a miserable condition for want of assistance, he ordered them every possible re-
lief, and despatched a messenger with a letter to the French marshal, humanely
proposing a conference to arrange the means of removing these wretched suf-
ferers. By this humanity the larger portion of not fewer than thirty thousand
men, to whose sufferings death would soon have put an end, were saved. The
officers gave their word that they would not serve against the allies till they were
regularly exchanged; and the common soldiers were to be considered as prisoners
of war, for whom an equal number of allied troops were to be returned.

Many, many battles, too numerous to mention, were gained by this great
commander. When he came back to England, at the peace, he for some time
distinguished himself as an able statesman; but incurring the displeasure of the
queen, and that of the party then in power, he found his situation so painful, that
he determined to leave the country till the course of events should again run in
his favor. He left Dover without any honors, as a private passenger, in a packet-
boat; but on its arriving off Ostend, as soon as the townspeople knew that the
Duke of Marlborough 'was on board, they made a salute of all the cannon to-
ward the sea; and when the vessel entered the harbor, they fired three rounds of
all the artillery on the ramparts. The people crowded round him, and shed tears
at the ingratitude of his nation. Some, full of astonishment at the sight of him,
said, "His looks, his air, his address, were full as conquering as his sword." Even
a Frenchman exclaimed, "Though the sight is worth a million to my king, yet I
believe he would not, at such a price, have lost the service of so brave a man."

Marlborough remained at Aix-la-Chapelle till the death of the queen. On
August 1, 1714, the day George the First was proclaimed, the duke and duchess
landed at Dover. Marlborough's reception was truly a contrast to his departure.
Now the artillery thundered forth a welcome; while thousands of spectators
hailed the return of the voluntary exile. Passing on to London, he was met at
Southwark by a large body of the burgesses, who escorted him into the city; and
thence, joined by man of the first merchants, the nobility, and gentry, he pro-

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