brave troops had heard the tramp of thousands of cavalry sweeping to battle without fear; but now they stood in still terror before the march of the conflagration, under whose burning footsteps was heard the incessant crash of falling houses, and palaces, and churches. The continuous roar of the. raging hurricane, mingled with that of the flames, was more terrible than the thunder of artillery; and before this new foe, in the midst of this battle of the elements, the awe-struck army stood powerless and affrighted. When night again descended on the city, it presented a spectacle the like of which was never seen before, and which baffles all description. The streets were streets of fire-the heavens a canopy of fire, and the entire body of the city a mass of fire, fed by a hurricane that whirled the blazing fragments in a constant stream through the air. Incessant explosions from the blowing up of stores of oil, and tar, and spirits, shook the very foundations of the city, and sent vast volumes of black smoke rolling furiously towards the sky. Huge sheets of canvas on fire came floating like messengers of death through the flames-the towers and domes of the churches and palaces, glowed with a red heat over the wild sea below, then tottering a moment on their bases were hurled by the tempest into the common ruin. Thousands of wretches, before unseen, were driven by the heat from the cellars and hovels, and streamed in an incessant throng through the streets. Children were seen carrying their par ents the strong, the weak; while thousands more were staggering under the loads of plunder they had snatched from the flames. This, too, would frequently take fire in the falling shower, and the miserable creatures would be compelled to drop it and flee for their lives. Oh, it was a scene of woe and fear inconceivable, and indescribable! A mighty and close packed city of houses, and churches, and palaces, wrapped from limit to limit in flames, which are fed by a fierce hurricane, is a sight this world will seldom see. But this was all within the city. To Napoleon without, the spectacle was still more sublime and terrific. When the flames had overcome all obstacles, and had wrapped everything in their red mantle, that great city looked like a sea of rolling fire, swept by a tempest that drove it into vast billows. Huge domes and towers, throwing off sparks like blazing fire-brands, now towered above these waves and now disappeared in their maddening flow, as they rushed and broke high over their tops, scattering their spray of fire against the clouds. The heavens themselves, seemed to have caught the conflagration, and the angry masses that swept them, rolled over a bosom of fire. Columns of flame would rise and sink along the surface of this sea, and huge volumes of black smoke suddenly shoot into the air as if volcanoes were working below. Napoleon stood and gazed on this scene in silent awe. Though nearly three miles distant, the windows and walls of his apartment were so hot he could scarcely bear his hand against them. Said he, years afterward: "It was the spectacle of a sea and billows of fire, a sky and clouds of flame, mountains of red rolling flame, like immense waves of the sea, alternately bursting forth and elevating themselves to skies of fire, and then sinking into the ocean of flame below. Oh! it was the most grand, the most sublime, the most terrific sight the world ever beheld ! ” can' o pied, covered as with a canopy. Mortier (mor' të a′), marshal of France. Mos' cow (kō), former capital of Russia. Murat (mü' rä′), marshal of France and King of Naples. pil' lage, plunder; robbery. A FAREWELL. CHARLES KINGSLEY. My fairest child, I have no song to give you ; Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; AN ENGLISH COUNTRY SCENE. WILLIAM BLACK. (From "Green Pastures and Piccadilly.") It was as yet the early morning, and the level sunshine spread a golden glory over the eastwardlooking branches of the great elms, and threw long shadows on the greensward of the park. Far away the world lay all asleep, though the kindling light of the new day was shining on the green plains, and on the white hawthorns, and on this or that gray house remotely visible among the trees. What could be a fitter surrounding for this young English girl Lady Sylvia, than this English-looking landscape? They were both of them in the freshness and beauty of their springtime, that comes but once a year and once in a life. She passed along the terrace. Down below her the lake lay still; there was not a breath of wind to break the reflections of the trees on the glassy surface. But she was not quite alone in this silent and sleeping world. Her friends and companions, the birds, had been up before her; she could hear the twittering of the young starlings in their nests, as their parents came and went carrying food; and the loud and joyful "tirr-a-wee, tirr-a-wee, prooit, tweet!" of the thrushes, and the low currooing of the wood-pigeon, and the soft call of the cuckoo that seemed to come in whenever an interval of silence fitted. The swallows dipped and flashed, and circled over the bosom of the lake. There were blackbirds eagerly but cautiously at work, with their short spasmodic trippings, on the lawn. A robin, perched on the iron railing, eyed her curiously, and seemed more disposed to approach than to retreat. For, indeed, she carried a small basket, with which the robin was doubtless familiar, and now she opened it, and began to scatter handfuls of crumbs on the gravel. A multitude of sparrows, hitherto invisible, seemed to spring into life. The robin descended from his perch. But she did not wait to see how her bounties were shared; she had work farther on. Now the high-lying park and ground of Willowby Hall formed a dividing territory between two very different sorts of country. On the north, away beyond the lake, lay a broad plain of cultivated ground, green, and soft, and fair, dotted with clusters of farm-buildings and scored by tall hedgerows. On the south, on the other hand, there was a wilderness of sandy heath and a dark-green common, now all ablaze with gorse and broom; black pine woods high up at the horizon; and one long, yellow, and dusty road apparently leading nowhere, for there was no trace of town or village as far as the eye could see. It was in this latter direction that Sylvia Blythe now turned her steps. She passed through some dense shrubberies-the blackbirds shooting away through the laurel-bushes-until she came to an open space at the edge of a wood where there was a spacious dell. Here the sunlight fell in broad patches on a tangled wilderness of wild flowers great masses of blue hyacinths, and white starwort, and crimson campion, and purple ground ivy. She stayed a minute to gather a small bouquet, which she placed in her dress; but she did not pluck two snow-white and waxen hyacinths, for she had watched these strangers ever since she had noticed that the flowers promised to be white. Should he upbraid, I'll own that he'll prevail. She hummed carelessly to herself, as she went on again; and now she was in a sloping glade, among young larches and beeches, with withered brackens |