a while this perplexed him, but at last he came to the conclusion that there were a number of loop-holes close together in the tower, so constructed as to command the ravine perfectly.

19. At sunset the last assault was made and repulsed, and at dark the Austrian commander sent a second summons to the garrison.

20. This time the answer was favorable. The garrison offered to surrender at sunrise the next morning if allowed to march out with their arms and return to the army unmolested. After some hesitation, the terms were accepted.

21. Meantime La Tour d'Auvergne had passed an anxious day in the tower. He had opened the fight with thirty loaded muskets, but had not been able to discharge them all. He had fired with great rapidity, but with surprising accuracy, for it was well known in the army that he never threw away a shot.

22. He had determined to stand to his post until he had accomplished his end, which was to hold the place twenty-four hours, in order to allow the French army time to complete its manoeuvre. After that he knew the pass would be of no consequence to the enemy.

23. The next day at sunrise the Austrian troops lined the pass in two files, extending from the mouth to the tower, leaving a space between them for the garrison to pass

out.

24. The heavy door of the tower opened slowly, and in a few minutes a bronzed and scarred grenadier, literally loaded with muskets, came out and passed down the line of troops. He walked with difficulty under his heavy load. To the surprise of the Austrians no one followed him from the tower.

25. In astonishment the Austrian Colonel rode up to him, and asked in French, why the garrison did not come

out.

"I am the garrison, Colonel," said the soldier, proudly.

26. "What!" exclaimed the Colonel, "do you mean to tell me that you alone have held that tower against me?" "I have had the honor, Colonel," was the reply.

27. "What possessed you to make such an attempt, grenadier?"

"The honor of France was at stake."

28. The Colonel gazed at him for a moment with undisguised admiration. Then, raising his cap, he said warmly, "Grenadier, I salute you. You have proved yourself the bravest of the brave."

29. The officer caused all the arms which La Tour d'Auvergne could not carry to be collected, and sent them with the grenadier into the French lines, together with a note relating the whole affair.

30. When the knowledge of it came to the ears of Napoleon, he offered to promote La Tour d'Auvergne, but the latter preferred to remain a grenadier.

*

31. The brave soldier met his death in an action at Aberhausen in June, 1800, and the simple and expressive scene at roll-call in his regiment was commenced and continued by the express command of the Emperor.

HOU art no lingerer in monarch's hall :

Tjoy thou art and a wealth to all;

A

A bearer of hope unto land and sea :

Sunbeam, what gift hath the world like thee?

II.

Thou art walking the billows, and ocean smiles;
Thou hast touched with glory his thousand isles;
Thou hast lit up the ships, and the feathery foam,
And gladdened the sailor like words from home.

*Pronounced Ah-ber-how'zen

To the solemn depths of the forest shades
Thou art streaming on through their green arcades,
And the quivering leaves that have caught thy glow,
Like fireflies glance to the pools below.

IV.

I looked on the mountains: a vapor lay
Felding their heights in its dark array;
Thou breakest forth, and the mist became
A crown and a mantle of living flame.

HOME HAPPINESS.

V.

I looked on the peasant's lowly cot:
Something of sadness had wrapped the spot;
But a gleam of thee on its casement fell,
And it laughed into beauty at that bright spell.

273

VI.

Sunbeam of summer, O what is like thee,
Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea?
One thing is like thee, to mortals given,

The faith touching all things with hues of heaven.

Mrs. Hemans.

CXII. HOME HAPPINESS.

L

I.

IKE a thing of the desert, alone in its glee,
I make a small home seem an empire to me;
Like a bird in the forest, whose world is its nest,
My home is my all; and the centre of rest.
Let Ambition stretch over the world at a stride,
Let the restless go rolling away with the tide,

I look on life's pleasures as follies at best,
And, like sunset, feel calm when I'm going to rest.

II.

I sit by the fire, in the dark winter's night,

While the cat cleans her face with her foot in delight,

And the winds all a-cold, with rude clatter and din
Shake the windows, like robbers who want to come in;
Or else, from the cold to be hid and away,

By the bright burning fire see my children at play,
Making houses of cards, or a coach of a chair,

While I sit enjoying their happiness there.

III.

I walk round the orchard on sweet summer eves,
And rub the perfume from the black-currant leaves,
Which, like the geranium, when touched, leave a smell
That lad's-love and sweet-brier can hardly excel.

I watch the plants grow, all begemmed with the shower.
That glitters like pearls in a sunshiny hour,

And hear the pert robin just whistle a tune,
To cheer the lone hedger when labor is done.

IV.

Joys come like the grass in the fields springing there,
Without the mere toil of attention and care;
They come of themselves, like a star in the sky,
And the brighter they shine when the cloud passes by.
I wish but for little, and find it all there,

Where peace gives its faith to the home of the hare,
Who would else, overcome by her fears, run away
From the shade of the flower and the breeze of the day.

V.

O the out-of-door blessings of leisure for me!
Health, riches, and joy, it includes them all three.
There peace comes to me, I have faith in her smile,
She's my playmate in leisure, my comfort in toil ;
There the short pasture-grass hides the lark on its nest,
Though scarcely so high as the grasshopper's breast;
And there its moss-ball hides the wild honey-bee,
And there joy in plenty grows riches for me.

VI.

So I sit on my bench, or enjoy in the shade
My toil as a pastime, while using the spade;
My fancy is free in her pleasure to stray,
Making voyages round the whole world in a day.
I gather home-comforts where cares never grew,
Like manna the heavens rain down with the dew,
Till I see the tired hedger bend wearily by,
Then like a tired bird to my corner I fly.

John Clare.