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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 291