Dispel the clouds, majestic orb! That round the dim horizon brood, That rests upon the slumbering flood, Lo! scattered wide beneath thy throne, O! let thy cloudless glory shed Its welcome brilliance from on high, Shine on, fair orb of light! and smile And Labour hath forgot the toil He bore in summer's sultry ray; And when the reapers end the day, Tired with the burning heat of noon, They'll come with spirits fight and gay, And bless thee-lovely Harvest Moon! W. MILLER. Interesting Account Of the Hon. Colonel Ponsonby, who was wounded at the Battle of Waterloo, extracted from a letter addressed to the mother of that galant officer. DEAR LADY B, You have often wished for some written account of the adventures and sufferings of your son, Colonel Ponsonby, in the field of Waterloo; the modesty of his nature is, however, no small obstacle in the way. Will the following imperfect sketch supply its place until it comes? His answers to many of the questions which were put to him are here thrown together, as nearly as I could remember, in the following words: The weather cleared up at noon, and the sun shone out a little just as the battle began. The armies were within eight hundred yards of each other, the videttes, before they were withdrawn, being so near as to be able to converse. At one moment I imagined I saw Buonaparte, a considerable staff moving rapidly along the front of our line. I was stationed with my regiment (about 300 strong) at the extreme of the left wing, and directed to act discretionally; each of the armies were stationed on a gentle declivity, a small village lying between them. At one o'clock, observing, as I thought, unsteadiness in a column of French infantry (50 by 20—1000, or thereabouts), which were advancing with an irregular fire, I resolved to charge them. As we were descending in a gallop, we received from our own troops a fire much more destructive than theirs, they having begun long before it could take effect, and slackening as we drew nearer; when we were within fifty paces of them, they turned, and much execution was done among them, as we were followed by some Belgians who had remarked our success. But we had no sooner passed through them than we were attacked in our turn, before we could form, by about three hundred Polish lancers, who had come down to their relief; the French artillery pouring in among us a heavy fire of grape-shot, which, however, for one of our men killed three of their own; in the melee, I was disabled almost instantly in both my arms, and followed by a few of my men, who were instantly cut down (no quarter being asked or given), I was carried on by my horse, till receiving a blow on my head from a sabre, I was thrown senseless on my face to the ground. Recovering, I raised myself a little to look round (being, I believe, at that time in a condition to run away), when a lancer passing by, exclaimed, "Tu n'est pas mort, coquin," (What, you're not dead yet, you scoundrel!) and struck his lance through my back; my head dropped, the blood gushed into my mouth, and I thought all was over. Not long afterwards (it was then impossible to measure time, but I must have fallen in ten minutes after the charge), a tirailleur came up to plunder me, threatening to take my life; I told him that he might search me, directing him to a small side-pocket, in which he found three dollars, being all I had; he unloosed my stock and tore open my waistcoat, and then left me in a very uneasy posture; he was no sooner gone than another came up for the same purpose, but I assured him I had been plundered already, and he left me; when an officer bringing on some troops (to whom probably the tirailleurs belonged), and halting where I lay, stooped down and addressed me, saying, he feared I was badly wounded; I replied that I was, and expressed a wish to be removed into the rear. He said it was against the order to remove even their own men, but that if they gained the day, as they probably would (for he understood the Duke of Wellington was killed, and that six of our battalions had surrendered), every attention in his power should be shown me. I complained of thirst, and he held his brandy-bottle to my lips, directing one of his men to lay me straight on my side, and place a knapsack under my head; he then passed on into the action, and I shall never know to whose generosity I was indebted, as I conceive, for my life: of what rank he was I cannot say; he wore a blue great-coat. By and bye, another tirailleur came and knelt and fired over me, loading and firing many times, and conversing with great gaiety all the while; at last he ran off, saying, "You will be glad to hear we are about to retire ; good day, my friend.” While the battle continued in that part, several of the wounded men and dead bodies near me were hit with the balls, which came very thick in that place. Towards evening, when the Prussians came, the continued roar of the cannon along theirs and the British line, growing louder and louder as they drew near, was the finest thing I ever heard. It was dusk, when two squadrons of Prussian cavalry, both of them two deep, passed over me in full trot, lifting me from the ground, and tumbling me about cruelly; the clatter of their approach, and the apprehensions it excited, may be easily conceived; had a gun come that way it would have done for me. The battle was then nearly over, or removed to a distance. The cries and groans of the wounded all around me became every instant more audible, succeeding to the shouts, imprecations, and outcries of "Vive l'Empereur!" the discharges of musquetry and cannon, and now and then intervals of silence, which were worse than the noise,-I thought the night would never end. Much about this time I found a soldier of the Royals across my legs, who had probably crawled thither in his agony; his weight, convulsive motions, |