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Written for Burke’s Weekly. THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. ET me tell you boys some thing about one of the greatest military men the world has yet produced. Arthur Wellesley, better Cfo known as the Duke of Wellington, f§p was born in Ireland on the Ist ol sh May, 1769—just a little more than f one hundred years ago. Some writers say that he was born in Dublin, an d others at Dungan Castle, in the county of Meath. He received his early education at Eton, a celebrated English school, and afterwards was sent to the Military College of Angers, in France. At both of these schools he was consider ed a boy of ordinary powers, who gave no promise of future greatness. At the early age of eighteen, he was commissioned as Ensign in the British army, and through the influence of his friends, rose rapidly, until at the early age of twenty-seven he became a Col onel, and was sent to India. He was so successful in his campaigns in that country, that he soon took high rank among the military heroes of Great Britain. On his return to England, in 1805, he received a vote of thanks of tlic British Parliament, a sword of honor, and was made a Knight Commander of the Bath. In 1807 he was actively em ployed in Spain, and for his suc cess at the battle of Talavera, and the passage of the river Douro, he received the title of Baron Douro and Miscount Wellington, a vote of thanks from Parliament, and a yearly pension of £2OOO, or SIO,OOO in gold. In 1311 he received the thanks of the Crown and Parliament for having driven the French out of Portugal, and on the 18th oi August, 1813, he was, for gallant con duct, created Marquis of Douro and Duke of Wellington. But the action which gave Wellington his greatest reputation was the battle of II aterloo, which witnessed the downfall Napoleon Bonaparte, probably the greatest military chieftain the world ever saw. Wellington was at Vienna, when Napoleon’s escape from the island ot Film summoned him to Belgium, to take command of the allied army. Icm will remember that Napoleon, on Die 11th of April, 1814, after an unsuc cessful campaign against the allied armies °1 nearly half of Europe, had abdicated, 01 renounced, the thrones of France and Ital y, an d had been banished to Elba, a BURKE’S WEEKLY. small island in the Mediterranean Sea, where he was to retain his imperial title, and receive an income from France. Ten months afterwards, and while the allied sovereigns were assembled at Vienna, he escaped from Elba, with bis imperial guard of 1000 men, landed at Cannes, a seaport in the south of France, and at once advanced towards Paris. Every* where the people flocked to his standard, and he soon found himself again at the head of an army of 200,000 men. The allied army, under Wellington, is said to have numbered half a million of men. On the 18th of June, 1815, these two grand armies met at Waterloo. The Prussian army was commanded by Mar shal Blucher, the English by Wellington, and the French were, for the last time, under the eye of Napoleon. The battle was long and obstinately contested, and resulted in the complete overthrow of the French army, and the downfall of Napo leon. , . , With the victory of Waterloo, closed Wellington’s military career, but he still devoted his services to his country, and filled various high offices of State. lie died suddenly September 14, 1852, in the eighty-fourth year of his age. The lesson to be learned from the life of the Duke of Wellington is an impor tant one. “For him who follows the trade of arms, fixity of purpose and stead fastness of will are indispensable if he would attain distinction or satisfactorily tread the paths of duty.” ‘To scorn de light and live laborious days;’ to endure cheerfully the inclemencies of climate or scarcity of food ; to watch, and wait, an persevere; to seize every opportunity ot acquiring information, to kcip eve the “ path of duty,” which is always the “path of glory”—it is thus, and thus on ly, that the soldier can hope to command success. And what is true of the soldier is as true of every other state in life. V ill, patience, promptitude, purpose,— these are the qualities which will always command success. THE POWER OF A WORD. N the green hills of Ver pV mont, a mother was hold- D'g by the right hand a son sixteen years old, mad with the love of dfag. the sea. And as she stood by the «£ garden gate one morning, she said : irk “ Edward, they tell me, for I » never saw the ocean, that the great temptation of a seaman’s life is drink. Promise me, before you quit your moth er’s hand, that you will never drink.” “And,” said he, (for he told me the story,) “I gave her the promise, and I went the broad globe over to Cal cutta and the Mediterranean, San Francisco, the Cape of Good Hope, the North Pole and the South. I saw them all in forty years, and I never saw a glass filled with sparkling liquor that my mother’s form by the gate did not rise before me; and to day I am innocent of the taste of liquor.” Was not that sweet evidence of the power of a single word ? Yet that was not half. “ For,” said he, “ yesterday there came into my counting room a man of forty years and asked me : “ ‘ Do you know me?’ “ ‘No,’ 1 replied. ‘“Well,’ said he, ‘I was once brought drunk into your presence on shipboard; you were a passenger; the captain kick ed me aside; you took me to your berth and kept me there till I had slept oft the intoxication ; you then asked me if I had a mother. I said I had never know n a word from her lips. You told me of yours at the garden gate, and to-day 1 am mas ter of one of the finest packets in New York; and I came to ask you to come and see me.’ ” How far that little candle throws its beams! That mother’s word on the green hills of Vermont! O, God be thanked for the mighty power of a single word ! ♦♦♦ — Truth and Honor.— The heaviest fet ter that ever weighed down the limbs of a captive is as the web of a gossamer, compared with the pledge of a man of honor. The wall of stone and the bar of iron may be broken, but the plighted word never. 397