L E 1 battle, and dying of their wounds after all. And yet it was not likely-it was hardly possible that John could have been in the affray, his indentures protecting him from the impress. These cogitations were speedily followed by others of as gloomy L a character; for the thoughts breed faster than we can perceive them, and each multiplies after its kind. It was a year since he had heard from his friends, and five years since he had seen them. Who could tell what changes had taken place in that time? Who could tell whether poor John had even lived to be killed by the press-gang? His father, his mother, and his sisters were they dead, were they living, were they sick, or in health? His sister had been always a delicate girl, one of those gentle and fragile flowers of mortality that are sure not to live till the summer; perhaps consumption, with the deceitful beauty of his smile, had already led his fair partner down the short dance of life. Tormenting himself with such speculations, he arrived at his father's house. Here he was surprised, bewildered, almost shocked, to observe a new and handsome farm-house in place of the old one. On looking farther on, however, he did detect the ancient habitation of his family, in its original site; but it seemed, from the distance where he stood, to be falling into ruins. His whole race must either be dead or banished, and a new tribe of successors settled in their place; or else uncle William must be deceased, and have left his father money enough to build a new house. He walked up to the door, where he stood trembling for some minutes, without courage to put his hand to the latch, and at last went round to the window, and, with a desperate effort, looked in. How his heart bounded! His father was there, still a stout healthy man of middle life, his hair hardly beginning to be grizzled, by the meddling finger of the old painter, Time; and his mother, as handsome as ever, and her face relieved by the smile either of habitual happiness, or of some momentary cause of joyful excitation, from the Madonna cast which had distinguished it in less prosperous days; and his sister, with only enough left of her former delicacy of complexion to chasten the luxuriant freshness of health on the ripe cheeks of nineteen. John, indeed, | was not there; but a vacant chair stood by the table ready to receive him, and another-a second chair, beside it, only nearer the fire-for whom?-for himself. His heart told him that it was. Some one must have brought the tidings of his arrival; the family circle were at that moment waiting to receive him; he could see his old letters lying on the table before them, and recognised the identical red spalsh he had dropped, as if accidentally, on the corner of one of the despatches he had written after his first action-although he had taken the trouble to go to the cock-pit to procure, for the occasion, this valorous token of danger and glory. But John-it was so late for him to be from home!—and, as a new idea passed across his mind, he turned his eyes upon the old house, which was distant about a hundred yards. It was probable, he thought, nay, more than probable, that his father, when circumstances enabled him to build a new house for himself, had given the old one to his eldest son; and John, doubtless, was established there as the master of the family, and perhaps at this moment was waiting anxiously for a message to require his presence on the joyful occasion of his brother's arrival. He did not calculate very curiously time or ages, for his brother was only his senior by two years; he felt that he was himself a man long ago, and thought that John by this time must be almost an old man. While these reflections were passing through his mind, he observed a light in the window of the old house; but he could not well tell whether it was merely the reflection of a moonbeam on the glass, or a candle in the interior. He walked forward out of curiosity; but the scene, as he approached the building, was so gloomy, and the air so chill, that he wished to turn back; however, he walked on till he reached the door, and there, sure enough, his brother was waiting on the threshold to receive him. They shook hands in silence, for Wil liam's heart was too full to speak, and he followed John into the house; and an ill-cared-for house it was. He stumbled among heaps of rubbish in the dark passage; and, as he groped along the wall, his hand brought down patches of old lime, and was caught in spiders' webs almost as strong as if the spinner in a letter I received at Smyrna ;—surely that cannot be all." "I have more to tell," said John, solemnly; "my apprenticeship is out." "What in four years -you are mad, John! What do you mean?" "The indenture was cancelled this evening." "How?" cried William, with a gasp, and beginning to tremble all over, without knowing why. "I was wounded on the beach," said John, rising up, and walking backwards towards the window; while the moon, sufficient power to exhibit the outlines of his figure.' "It was by the point of a dagger," continued he, his voice sounding distant and indistinct," and I died of the wound!" had meant to go a-fowling. When they had got into the parlour, he saw that the building was indeed a ruin; there was not a whole pane of glass in the window, nor a plank of wood in the damp floor; and the fire-place, without fire, or a grate to hold it, looked like the entrance to a burying-vault. John, however, walked quietly in, and sat down on a heap of rubbish by the ingleside; and William, following his example, sat down overagainst him. His heart now began to quake, and he was afraid, without knowing what he had to fear. He ran over in his mind the transactions of the even-entering into a dense cloud, had scarcely ing-his walk, his reflections, his anxieties-embracing the whole, as if in one rapid and yet detailed glance of the soul, and then turned his eyes upon his brother both in fear and curiosity. What fearful secret could John have to com- William was alone in the apartment, municate in a place like this? Could and he felt the hair rising upon his head, he not have spoken as well in the open and cold drops of sweat trickling down air, where it was so much warmer, and his brow. His ghastly and bewildered in the blessed light of the moon? No look was hardly noticed by his parents one was dead, or likely to die, that he and sister during the first moments of cared for; his dearest and almost only salutation; and, when it was, the excuse friends were at this moment talking and was illness and fatigue. He could laughing round their social table, and neither eat nor drink (it seemed as if he near a bright fire, expecting his arrival, had lost altogether the faculty of swallowand John and he were here! At length, ing), but sat silent and stupified, turning repressing by a strong effort the undefined his head ever and anon to the door, till it and undefinable feelings that were crowd-struck one o'clock. About this time a ing upon him, he broke the silence, which was now beginning to seem strange and embarrassing. "And how have you been, John?" said he, in the usual form of friendly inquiries; "and how have you got on in the world since we parted?" "I have been well," replied John; "and I have got on as well as mortal man could desire." "Yet you cannot be happy; you must have something to say-something I am almost afraid to hear, Out with it, in God's name! and let us go home." "Yes," said John, "I have something to say; but it will not take long to hear, and then we shall both go home. I was apprenticed to the boat-building four yearsago." "I know it,” replied William; "you wrote to me about it yourself, John." "I was made foreman before my time was out." "I know that, too," said William ; "Fanny gave me the whole particulars knocking was heard, and the sister, jumping up, cried it was John come home, and ran to open the door. But it was not John; it was the minister of the parish; and he had scarcely time to break the blow to the parents with the shield of religion, when the dead body of their eldest son was brought into the house. BATTLE OF NAVARINO. After the action, an Irishman, named Phelon, who was cook's mate of the Genoa, was observed to skip about the galley with the most ludicrous manifestation of joy. On being questioned, he shouted out, "Och, by the Powers I'm glad that the villains hav'nt spoilt the coppers-the devil a shot has touched them." London:-Printed by JOSEPH LAST, 3, Edwardstreet, Hampstead-road; and published by W. M. CLARK, 19, Warwick-lane, Paternosterrow; J. PATTIE, 17, High-street, Bloomsbury, and may be had, by order, of all Booksellers. WHEN We read of the brilliant victories which have been achieved by our armies over forces vastly superior in point of numbers and physical strength, we feel a glow of admiration and respect for the conquerors. This applies to the memorable battle of Assaye, which was so gloriously fought and won by the brave army then under the command of the immortal Wellesley. On the 24th of August. 1802, general Wellesley crossed the Godavery, with the whole of his force, and reached the large and noble city of Aurungabad on the 29th. There are pleasant breaks in the hot toils of marching and campaigning in India, when a place is approached that rewards the gaze, as riding slowly up, dome, cupola, and tåll minar rise grandly in the distance; objects singularly noble and VOL. I. picturesque in themselves, but doubly so with the adjuncts of the palm-tree anp feathery cocoa-nut, and that sunset sky, where long dark stripes, of the very blacket purple, divide the deep, the glowing vermillion, after a manner that no painter either could or would dare to copy. These things, and a soowarree, perhaps, coming on the way with huge elephant and camels, and long-maned horses, fretting handsome under their weighty housings, and their turbaned riders,and all the historic associations that crowd up to the cultivated minds at the sight; these are the beguilements of Indian marches; and are, after different manners and degrees, delightful alike to the march-worn soldier, and to the thoughtful leader riding in the van. As soon as the enemy heard of the arrival of general Wellesley at Aurunga- Stevenson, then about eight miles to his bad, they moved from Jalna to the south-left, to apprise him of this intention, and ward and eastward, menacing a march to direct his advance. upon Hyderabad. The general marching eastward, along the left bank of the Gadavery, frustrated their design effectually; and, by the same movement, covered the safe advance of two important convoys coming up from Moodgul. The enemy now returned to the northward of Jalna. Colonel Stevenson attacked and carried that fort on the 2d of September: upon the night of the 9th he surprised a detached encampment of the enemy, created no small disturbance and alarm, and caused them much loss. The confederate chieftains had hitherto been marching solely with their cavalry, supported by a few thousands of the irregular foot, armed with matchlocks. They were now joined by sixteen battalions of regular infantry, and a large train of artillery, under the command of French officers. The whole of these forces were collected at Boker-left, and all the guns. The position of dun, and lay between that place and Jaffierabad. The camp colours were plucked from the ground, and the little army of Wellesley marched on. With the 19th light dragoons, and three regiments of native cavalry under colonel Maxwell, the general himself advanced to reconnoitre. The infantry followed. After a march of about four miles, from an elevated plain in front of their right, he beheld the Mahratta camp. A host of near 50,000 combatants, horse, foot, and artillery, lay strongly posted behind the river Kaitna. A smaller stream, called the Juah, flowed past their rear; and its waters joined those of the Kaitna at a point considerably beyond their left, leaving there a vacant peninsulated piece of ground of some space. The line of the enemy ran east and west along the northern bank of the Kaitna. The infantry lay upon the this wing was a little retired upon the Juah, having its point d'appui on the village of Assaye, which leaned upon that river. The right consisted entirely of cavalry. The north bank of the Kaitna is high, rocky, and difficult; the front, for the most part, unassailable. mass, 30,000 horses. The cavalry under Maxwell formed up their brilliant line, and remained steady. Wellesley with rapid glance surveyed the ground. From beneath the thick plumes of red horsehair, which drooped over their bronzed cheeks, the manly eyes of the bold 19th dragoons looked on severely. The general resolved for battle. That this was the calm decision of a consulted judgment is not probable; but "there is a tide in the affairs of men:" he felt it swelling in his bosom, and took it at the happy ebb. On the 21st of September, general Wellesley and colonel Stevenson met and conferred at Budnapoor. They here arranged a combined attack of the enemy for the morning of the 24th. Stevenson was detached by the western route, the Upon his bay Arabian sat Wellesley, general himself taking the eastern; in just opposite the enemy's right, then disorder that by this division of the force tant about a mile and a half, and prethey might be enabled to effect the pas-senting to his view, in one magnificent sage of the defiles in one day, and by occupying both prevent the enemy from escaping to the southward; —a manœuvre by which they might otherwise have avoided the encounter of our army at that time, and, perhaps, altogether. The common hircarrahs of the country reported the enemy to be at Bokerdun; and, according to the information which he had received about roads and distances, the general directed his march, so as to encamp within twelve miles of that place on the 21st. When on the morning of that day he arrived at the proposed halting ground, he learned, to his surprise, that he was only six miles from Bokerdun. At the same time intelligence was brought, that the cavalry of the Mahratta camp were already in movement to the rear, and that the infantry and guns were preparing to follow. The general determined to march upon the infantry, and engage it. He sent a messenger to A body of the enemy's horse moved out, advanced to within half a mile of the British cavalry, and threw out skirmishers, who fired a few shots. Some British troopers were ordered to drive back these skirmishers, and all again was quiet. The general, observing a spot with a few houses beyond the left of the enemy, where there was probably a ford, and which he saw they had neglected to guard, resolved to pass the Kaitna at that point; to throw his small force entire upon that flank; to attack their infantry and guns; and thus to neutralise the presence of their vast cavalry, or compel them to bring it into action under very confusing disadvantages, and on a more confined field. A bright and bold conception. towards the left, so numerous and weighty were the guns, and so thickly were they disposed immediately near the village. The fire was rapid, furious, and terrible in execution: the British guns, few in number, opened as the line advanced, but were almost on the instant silenced. Their gunners dropped fast, and the cattle fell lacerated or killed beside them. With the fierceness of the struggle and the fearfulness of the hazard, the undaunted spirit of the general rose. He at once abandoned the guns, and directed an advance with the bayonet: with the main body he soon forced and drove the enemy's right, possessing himself of their guns by a resolute charge. During this movement, the pickets and 74th regiment were losing men so fast by the fire from Assaye, that a body of Mahratta horse, which, hastening to that flank, had moved round the village, charged them, and with severe effect; though the heart, or centre, of the 74th still held gallantly together. Maxwell, with his dragoons, rode swiftly to their rescue, and spurring hard upon their assailants, drove them, with great slaughter, across the Juah. Amid a shower of musketry and grape, this leader and his cavalry rode on through the enemy's left: the gallant remnant of the pickets and 74th pressed on, and the battle was already won. The sepoys of the main body, possessed in great part the very ground on which the enemy had stood, and the guns which he had fought to the last, the gun The general, bidding Maxwell keep his present ground for a time, went back, and brought up the infantry in person. With these last, in steady columns, he now moved down upon the river. They marched silent and firm, every man in his place. It was to be the triumph of discipline. The courage of the heart was to be aided by the quick eye, the obedient ear, and the keeping calmly in the ranks. A cannonade played upon their line of march as they approached the ford: it was dis- | tant, and without effect. As they passed up out of the river, and the head of the column gained the clear ground above, a field battery, within range, opened upon them hotly. It was at this the anxious moment of directing with care the formation of the lines for battle, that the orderly dragoon riding close to the general, had his skull torn away by a cannon-ball. The horse, feeling the relaxed bridle and collapsing limb of his rider, fell a-trembling, and kicked and plunged franticly, till he got quit of the corpse. An incident not worth the notice, but for the moment of its occurrence, and the trouble it caused to those immediately near. Under this cannonade general Wel-ners in many instances actually suffering lesley formed up his people in three lines; two of infantry, the third of his cavalry; which, as soon as the colums had crossed the ford, rode smartly down from their position, and took battle station in reserve. As a watching check upon the enemy's right, were left the Mysore horse and some cavalry of the peishwah's which marched with our army; but, though useful here, they could not be ventured in the fight. The order of the battle being thus skilfully changed, the infantry of Scindia was compelled to present a new front. They did so with greater ease than was expected. The line they now formed rested with its right upon the Kaitna, and its left upon the village of Assaye and the Juah. The front now presented by the enemy was one vast battery, especially themselves to be bayonetted at their posts, in others lying dead, as it seemed, under their cannon. These sepoys rushed on in pursuit. Their officers could not control their elated ardour; but, happily the 78th British, upon the left of all this early exultation, stood firm and steady, with unbroken ranks. A cloud of the enemy's horse hung dark upon the hill above, ready to burst, like a torrent, upon the brave confusion, but they durst not dash and break, as they must have done, upon that rock. Some of Scindia's routed battalions clustered confusedly near Assaye, where numbers of the infantry and gunners, who had cast themselves upon the earth, to avoid the sabres of the cavalry, by feigning death, started up, and joined them. This body attempted a new formation; |