enced his course during the revolution, only a mixed feeling of hatred of despotism, hatred of the class that had oppressed and degraded him, and hatred of institutions that had permitted or inflicted his wrongs. And this hatred was scarcely relieved by a corresponding love of liberty, equality and justice; it was a hatred of one set of objects, imperfectly mingled with a love of their opposites. This made him more eager to demolish existing institutions, than careful in selecting substitutes to supply the places thus made vacant. The feelings which prompted both this eagerness in tearing down, and this carelessness in building up, sprang from a very natural but a very impure source. He had been crushed under the heel of a proud noblesse; he had been hunted through Europe by the ministers of a regal government. He would have vengeance on his oppressors, by trampling down the aristocracy and degrading the throne.

Human nature might have forgiven him this, had he not turned traitor to his avowed principles by betraying the cause he had championed. The searching eye of calumny has been able to find only three or four instances of venality among all the authors and promoters of the revolution; and its most celebrated orator is one of these. When Robespierre and his colleagues had all the revenues of France at their control, they allowed themselves a monthly salary, which was to cover all their personal expenses, of only 360 francs ($67) each. The chiefs of the Reign of Terror, with hearts sealed to the cry of pity, were above the reach of corruption. With arms dipped to the elbows in the richest blood of Paris, they never dabbled in private bribes, or abstracted a franc from the public coffers. But Mirabeau, long pinched with poverty, he had become sordid. Given to pleasure, he required immense sums to gratify his appetites and maintain his ostentatious displays. A life of debauchery and strife had so rotted his heart, that he had not sufficient virtue remaining to resist a bribe. Months before his death, he had entered into an obligation to sell his principles and his party into the hands of the king, for so much gold and such office in the government as he might select. We hardly know which party to this base bargain is most deserving of pity-the fallen prince, or the degraded deputy. Both must have been reduced to the last straits before they could have joined hands over such a contract. Mirabeau had received part of his price, and had secretly commenced his work, when death released him from the completion of the compact. Had he lived, he must have failed in arresting the march of the revolution, and would no doubt have fallen an early victim to the Reign of Terror. His treachery not having been yet disclosed, his death was mourned as a public calamity, his body was deposited with solemn pomp in the Pantheon, and a nation sprinkled his tomb with unaffected tears.

Three years afterwards, during which the blade of the guillotine had dripped with the blood of Louis, Marie Antoinette, Phillippe Egalite, Vergniaud, Mayor Bailly, Madame Roland, Danton, Camille-Desmoulins, and Robespierre, the remains of the great orator of the Assembly were expelled from the Pantheon; his ashes strewn upon the winds by hands that had once and again borne him in triumph from the tribune; his bust burnt in the Place de Greve amid the shoutings of the populace that had so often applauded his eloquence; and his head-the head of Mirabeau ! was thrown into the cemetery of Clamart, the common receptacle of the scaffold, there to moulder undistinguished among the mutilated trunks and skulls of the Reign of Terror! Such was that Great Leveller, the French Revolution!

THE LOST STANDARD:

AN INCIDENT OF THE BATTLE OF AUSTERLITZ,

(TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF WILHELM SMETS.)

{Napoleon was crowned at Fontainebleau, December 2, 1804; on the same day, is the following year, was fought the celebrated battle of Austerlitz.]

AGAIN, oh sun! thy course brings round the coronation day,
'Mid blood-red clouds thy beams appear, in blood they fade away;
A year ago, thy setting closed far otherwise than now,
When Corsica's bold soldier placed the crown upon his brow;
Yet now, as then, the thunders roll, with deep and solemn sound,
The pealing trumpet wildly rings, the drum-beat echoes round,
The clarion summons to the chase, where mortals are the prey,
And where three mighty hosts contend, peels death's stern reveille.
From thunder-clouds on every side the lightnings start by fits,
On this, the coronation day--the day of Austerlitz!
How sank thy shield, oh! Hapsburg, then, thy proudly 'scutchion'd shield,
Beneath the foeman's vengeful stroke, on that ensanguin'd field!
How lay, oh! Czar, in crowded heaps, thy bravest warriors slain,
When, sweeping from the open'd ranks, the death-shot pour'd like hail.
Still onward rusk'd by legions, France, amid the batile's roar,
And in the van, troop after troop thy chainless eagles bore.
There, clad in garb of gray, behold the genius of the fight,
An image of pale death he seems, upon his charger white;
Around him now, the carnage o'er, the ranks are gather'd nigh,
And ev'ry soldier seeks the glance of that keen falcon eye.
He sees them round him, girt about with corpses of the foe,
Around whose ghastly forms there floats a winding-sheet of snow;
And proud and high, from every band, the Eagle banner's tossed,
That all may meet the monarch's glance, nor show one standard lost:
Not one? With gloomy brow advances swift, the man in vestment gray,
Sorrow and wrath his features speak, that words could ill portray:
All voiceless as the hush of death, the stalwart hand stood still,
While ev'ry bosorn felt a pang, and ev'ry pulse a thrill;
“Where is your Eagle banner, men, that late my own hand gare?
Whor! die ye not of very sbame--why seek ye not your grave ?"
Thus from his lips, while flash'd his eye, the gather'd fury rush'd-
“The Eagle-yes, your Eagle, men"--and all again was hush'd.
The ranks unclose-two veterans scarr'd, advancing from the band,
With nartial step, in silent grief, before the monarch stand;
The cross of honor seems to say- the forehead brown'd 'neath many a sun,
We gain'd the field of Arcola--the "Pyramids" we won.
No arins does either now present--weapons they carry none;
Yet glorious trophies do they bear, and thus outspeaketh one:
• The ensign fell amid the fray -- thus was our Eagle lost,
Then we, like raging lions, rush'd amid the hostile host,
And man to man, and breast to breast, we mingled in the fray,
That so we might our loss repair, and wash this stain away;
And these two Rrussian standards, sire, which we have won to-day,
We beg, in place of that we lost, before our chief to lay."
“Now, Emperor, thou thyself shalt say, if ever it can be,
That thou our Eagle wilt replace, and grant us pardon free,
For we have sworn we will not live, it we must hear our name
Forever coupled, on thy lips, with epithets of shame.”
"Be patient, then,” the monarch cried, and hurried swiftly by,
Yet ere he left, there fell, 'tis said, a tear-drop from his eye.
Beneath the Invalides' proud dome the Russian banners rest,
And in Saint Ivan's loliy halls the Eagle droops his crest;
Yet, as the rolling year again brought round that baule day,
Before their chief that army pass'd in all their bright array:
Another Eagle then was borne before that legion brave,
Who knew, altho' their flag was lost, their honor'd name to save.

W. B.

SKETCHES OF LALLY'S CAMPAIGN IN MEXICO.

(Concluded.) The Ohio Regiment of Col. Brough, with three additional companies, (Simmons' battalion,) together with Lieut. Pratt's battery, were left to guard the train. The remainder, consisting of a battalion of the Pennsylvanians, under Col. Wynkoop; the Indiana regiment, under Col. Gorman ; Captain Heintzleman's battalion of six companies of infantry; the veteran battalion of Major Lally; four companies of mounted men, under Walker; five pieces of artillery, under Captain Taylor and Lieut. Field, both of the Third Artillery ; and several others, volunteers and followers of the army; amounting, in all, to three thousand picked men, moved from San Antonio at about ten o'clock on the ninth day of October, with drums beating and colors waving, in all “ the pride and circumstance of glorious war.

Their movements were not unnoticed. Frequently, as the eye scanned the road to Huamantla, men on horseback could be seen, watching the busy preparations with eager gaze. As the last regiment shouldered their muskets, and hurried after the men who had preceded them, as if satisfied of our number and force, they galloped away.

At about one o'clock the city of Huamantla (pronounced Whawmantla) was descried. It is situated about ten or fifteen miles from San Antonio, and is reached by a road which thence branches off to the right of the national highway. The road is lined on either side with thick groves of maguay, which much obstructs the view. The column was halted at about three miles distant, and preparations made for assault.

At this moment two thousand regular cavalry were seen hurrying over the hills towards the city, and large parties of other horsemen rapidly concentrating from every quarter. Several of these passed very near the advance. Walker, who was in command here, and who was doubtless ignorant of the habitual impetuosity of Lane’s advance when actually engaged with the enemy, and who feared, perhaps, that an opportunity for doing service would escape, could no longer restrain his own impatience and the impetuosity of the men. He had under his command more than one hundred and fifty of perhaps the best mounted force in the world, and believed himself impregnable. Elated and confident, he charged upon a small party which was passing before the moment of the intended combined assault, and, long before he could recover, had driven them to the gates of the city. Unfortunately, he did not stop there, but, flushed with success, and urged by the spirit and intrepidity of his men, he followed the enemy into the very heart of the city. Some have said, in excuse for Captain Walker, that he recognized, in this party, the staff and person of General Santa Anna. At all events, the entry into the city was premature and impolitic.

It was the intention of the commander-in-chief, that the city should be first approached by the infantry, on the right and left flanks, and accordingly, that part of the force was divided into three bodies. Colonel Gorman was directed to enter on the west side, with his regiment, while Wynkoop, with the artillery, should penetrate from the east. Lally's

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VOL. XXVII-NO, V.

brigade were held in reserve. The rapid entry of Walker occasioned some little precipitation in the movements of the troops, and some confusion. He had no sooner succeeded in dispersing the party, which was his original object, than they were reinforced by those large bodies whom we have seen hurrying towards the city from all quarters. Lieut. B. F. McDonald, of the 3d Artillery, was dispatched by Lane to acquaint Walker of the perils of his situation. The messenger arrived too late; Walker was already engaged in a desperate hand to hand struggle with them, upon the main plaza. Surrounded by more than three

thousand of the enemy, who, by the mere force of numbers, had detached the various sections of his little band, with unparalleled' intrepidity he disputed every inch of ground. His orders could not reach all his men, yet, posted at the head of a lane through which the enemy were pouring in upon his little troop, he exhibited to them a noble example of triumphant heroism. The wars of ancient Rome seemed revived upon that bloody field, and thus contending, single-handed, against fearful odds, he might well be deemed worthy to rank beside her sublimest warriors. After about three quarters of an hour, loud huzzas, which reached the plaza, from the west, announced the rapid approach of Gorman's regiment, and the rest of the American infantry. The Mexicans retired in precipitation ; but at the very moment when speedy relief was thus at hand, the gallant captain fell, pierced by three mortal wounds. 6 YIELD NOT AN INCH !NOT ONE INCH !” he cried, and sank lifeless in the arms of his comrades.

In the meanwhile, Wynkoop had entered on the east, and Lally, after a short detour with his corps de reserve, in pursuit of the retreating enemy, also gained the scene of the recent terrible conflict. The plaza was heaped with the slain. One hundred and fifty of the enemy were killed ; the American loss was only thirteen killed and eleven wounded. Two field pieces and two officers of rank, Col. La Vega and Major Iturbide, were taken prisoners; the latter surrendered to Lieut. Anderson, of the Georgia volunteers. Lieut. Claiborne, of the rifles, and Captain Fitzhammond, of the same regiment, are entitled to the honor of capturing the guns. There fell also into the hands of the victors, a large quantity of ammunition, several thousand stands of arms, and a number of excellent horses.

At about four o'clock the column evacuated the city and returned towards camp. Several stores having been broken open and pillaged during the mêlee, this was not easy of accomplishment. Two-thirds of the command were mounted upon the captured horses; quite a large number were intoxicated, and had arrayed themselves in parts of the gaudy uniform of the Mexican lancers, and excited much merriment by their uncouth gestures and appearance. So carelessly was the evacuation conducted, that little is hazarded in the remark, that a few hundred men, posted behind the thick maguays which line the sides of the narrow alleys leading from Huamantla, could, on the night of the victory, have taken ample

revenge for the bloodshed and enormous loss of property which this victory occasioned to Mexico.

None but the dragoons reached camp that night. They carried with them the said news of Walker's death. To the men of his own company the intelligence was of course most distressing; for it was his high encomium to be most loved where he was best known. Modest and unassuming when off duty; in the moment of the fearful charge, his shrill, clear voice, could be heard high above the clamor, in tones at once musical

and commanding. He enjoyed in an eminent degree, the faculty of attaching others to his person; and in his death, not only did all feel, that the service had lost an efficient and valuable officer, but numbers mourned the departure of a dear and intimate friend.

Partaking of some hurried refreshments, and to afford the stragglers from Huamantla an opportunity of regaining the main body, Gen. Lane spent in his camp, at San Antonio, the night of the 10th of October. On the morning of the 11th, he resumed his march, and arrived at Puebla at about meridian on the next day.

If all accounts be true, Puebla is certainly the most lovely city in Mexico. It is situated among hills, very near the snow-covered peaks of Orizaba, and Popocatapetl, in a highly picturesque and delightful locality, surrounded by the most charming scenery, and enriched with costly architecture, and a refined and intelligent population. Perhaps the great plaza, or square of this city, is even more richly adorned than that of the capitol, and its various public gardens filled with every variety of tropical fruit, where flowers of every hue bloom in perennial magnificence; the fountains-the public baths-the promenade, and other works, attest the taste and wealth of the citizens.

The main square, just spoken of, is bounded on one side, for several hundred feet, by the Cathedral. On the right of this, (entering the city from the sea-coast,) appears the Palace, a fine suite of apartments, two stories high, whose interior is elegantly decorated and gilded. On the left there extends, the whole length of the plaza, a range of shops for goceries, dry goods, liquors, cutlery, cotton goods, etc., etc., and in front a range of elegant private residences. The area in the centre is bounded by four streets, running along the front of these buildings, and adorned with trees, a large fountain, and an iron railing with benches.

On market days, this place is usually crowded with the peasantry, and covered with a number of temporary booths, erected for the sale of fruit, pulché, (the common drink,) and poultry and vegetables, of all which there is a vast variety. No scene can be more unique or interesting to an Atlantic-shore American, than is here occasionally presented from the balconies of the palace. Beneath your feet, moves a numberless throng of swarthy men, women and children; affording all the possible shades of human color, from the unmixed black of the Ethiopian, (here, perhaps, more degraded and miserable, than even in the northern states of our Union,) in their leathern vests and leggins, begrimed with dirt, and venerable with patches, usually having burdens on their backs, and dangerous to approach by any one opposed to vermin; through all the varieties of brown and yellow, exhibited in the Indian and mixed races, to the unmixed white of the proud Castilians, with their embroidered jackets, broad sombreros, and usually white breeches. With the exception of the latter class, all wear blankets of more or less fine texture, wrapped mantilla-like around their shoulders, and less necessary in the extreme mildness of the climate, than by immemorial custom.

Through the crowd there passes at intervals a priest of the Roman Church, with the huge shawl hat, and dark or colored cloak; and occasionally a sweet female head and face, partly hid beneath the mantilla, and boasting a pair of exquisite black eyes.

The ladies are considered handsome. God bless them, they are everywhere. Here indeed it may be said, they are unusually beautiful. To