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1852.]
He was evidently not more than forty
five years of age; yet his head drooped
upon his breast; his form was bent to
decrepitude; and his hair was utterly
white. I looked on the features and out
line of robust maturity, blended with the
ravages of extreme old age. What a
fearful anomoly is this to gaze at ? And
how does one shudder to think of the
mental rack which must have stretched
every fibre of the soul, ere affliction could
so have anticipated the work of years!
liis eye had a vacant apathy, and only
gleamed with a ray of intelligence when
glancing towards the bier of the dead.
Then a look of acute, of intensest consci
ousness lit it up.
Two young men supported him, or he
would have fallen. When the period ar
rived for depositing the body in the earth,
he seemed suddenly to recover from his
trance of grief. He looked wildly around
—his body, before so bent, was drawn
instantly up to its naturally towering
height; and when the earth rattled over
the lowered coffin, he sprang a few paces
forward,, and with a yell of such wild
despair as will ring in my ears to my
dying day, fell on the ground! They
raised him—but he was dead !
At a soiree , a few evenings afterwards,
I learned that it was the unfortunate De
Valmont whose death 1 had witnessed.
From the hour of his daughter’s dissolu
tion, he had “mourned as one who would
not be comforted.” Belonging to that
fatal school which rejects the healing
balm offered by Christianity to the woun
ded spirit, and which depends on philoso
phy for support in the hour of need, he
found, when support was requisite,
nothing but the cold barren maxims of
fortitude to lean upon. They were insuf
ficient: Refusing food or rest, his body
and mind sank together. At his imper
ative desire, he was lifted from a sick
bed to attend the funeral —but, the “sil
ver cord,” too tightly drawn, snapped
asunder at his daughter’s grave !
It appeared that he had been one of
the most active in projecting and organ
izing the revolt against Charles X., and
had made himself conspicuous among the
heroes of the “Three Days.” But,
knowing the apprehensive love of Isoline,
he had concealed his participation from
her knowledge. The darling scheme of
his heart was acheived. The king was
driven from his throne, the people tri
umphant. But—alas! for the vanity
of human desires and designs! —by as
sociation with these events, he became
the murderer of his beloved child, and
his own life was the expiatory sacri
fice.
The word daisy is a thousand times
pronounced without adverting to the
beauty of its etymology, “the eye of
day.”
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
THE BISCUIT.
From the Military Sketch Book.
Our advanced guard had been skir
mishing with the enemy for five days,
and with empty stomachs. The commis
sary of the division had either missed
us in his march with the provisions, for
which he had been despatched to the rear,
or else had not been successful in procur
ing a supply. But whatever might have
been the cause, the consequence was try
ing to us; for the men, officers and all,
were wholly without provisions for three
days. At the time the commissary went
to the rear, two pounds of biscuit, one
pound of meat, and a pint of wine, were
served out to each individual ; and upon
this quantity we were forced to exist for
five days, for nothing was to be bought.
If we had been loaded with gold, we
could not have purchased a morsel of any
sort of food.
Most of the men, from having been ac
customed to disappointment of supplies
of rations, managed their little stcck of
provisions so economically, that it lasted
nearly three days, but the greater part
finished it in half the time. As the men
grew weaker, the work grew heavier;
and as hunger increased, so did the ne
cessity for physical exertion. The enemy
were constantly annoying us, and every
hour of the day brought a skirmish, ei
ther with their little squads of cavalry,
their riflemen, or their voltigeurs. The
latter were troops of very short stature
and strong make, very esteemed by Na
poleon. They wore short breeches and
half gaiters, and none of the men were
more than five feet three inches high.
The rifles would advance by the cover of
a hedge, or hill perhaps, while the volti
geurs would suddenly dart out from a
ditch, into which they had crept under
cover of the weeds, and fall upon our
piquets with the ferocity of bull-dogs;
and when they were mastered, would (if
not killed, wounded, or held fast) scam
per off like kangaroos. In like manner
the cavalry would try to surprise us; or,
if they could steal upon us, would dash
up, fire their pistols, and, if well opposed,
gallop oft'again.
On the fifth morning after the commis
sary had delivered the rations above
mentioned, we had a very sharp brush
with the enemy. A company of infan
try and a few dragoons were ordered to
dislodge the French from a house in
which they had a party, and which was
necessary to the security of our position ;
for, from this house, they used to sally
upon our piquets in a most annoying
manner. The French, not more than
fifty in number, made a considerable re
sistance ; they received the English wfith
a volley from the window’s, and imme
diately retreated to a high bank behind
the house. From this point they con-
tinued to fire until their flank was threat
ened by our dragoons, when they retreat
ed in double quick disorder, leaving about
fifteen killed and wounded.
Our men were then starving. The poor
fellows, although they had forgotten their
animal wants in the execution of their
duty, plainly displayed in their faces the
weakness of their bodies. Every man of
the crowded encampment looked wan
and melancholy; and all kept up their
flagging spirits by resolution and pa
tience. Many a manly fellow’ felt in si
lence the bitterness of his situation.
There were no uphraidings, for all were
sufferers alike.
In about an hour after the taking of the
old house in front, I went out from our
huts in a crowd to see the place of ac
tion. 1 met. four or five of our men
wounded, led and carried by their com
rades. The officer commanding the party
now joined me, and walked back to the
house, to give further directions regard
ing other wounded men not yet removed.
When we had gone about fifty yards, we
met a wounded soldier carried very slow
ly in a blanket by four men. As soon
as he saw the officer who was along with
me, he cried out in a feeble but forced
voice, “Stop ! stop !—lay me down —let
me speak to the captain.” The surgeon,
who was along with him, had no objec
tion, for, in my opinion, he thought the
man beyond the power of his skill, and
the sufferer was laid gently down upon
the turf, under the shade of a projecting
rock.- 1 knew the wounded man’s face
in a moment, for I had often remarked
him as being a steady, well-conducted
soldier; his age was about forty-one or
two, and he had a wife and two children
in England. I saw death in the poor fel
low’s face. He was shot in the throat,!
or rather betw’een the shoulder and the i
throat; the ball passed apparently down
wards, probably from having been fired
from the little hill on which the French
posted themselves when they’ left the
house. The blood gurgled from the
wound at every exertion he made to
speak. I asked the surgeon what he
thought of the man, and that gentleman j
whispered, “It is all over with him.” lie j
said he had done every thing he could to <
stop the blood, but found, from the situa
tion of the wound, that it was impossible
to succeed.
The dying soldier, on being laid down,
held out his hand to my friend the cap
tain, which was not only cordially re
ceived, but pressed w’ith pity and ten
derness by that officer. “Sir, ’ said the
unhappy man, gazing upon his captain
with a look such as I shall never forget —
“Sir, you have been my best friend ever
since I entered the regiment —you have
been every man’s friend in the company,
and a good officer. God bless you ! Tou
saved me once from punishment, which
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