outside, "Now, Cavaliero," says I, squeezing my voice into a small whisper, we must skulk past the sentry;-it's stoop you must," said I, “and come under the shadow," but the devil a bit he'd stoop, but stalked along, bolt upright, like the ghost in the play, with the full moon shining with all its might on his infarnal ruff. Lucky for us, the sentry had got his dead lights up, and couldn't see anything but what he was dreaming of, so we gets undiskivered to the ramparts. I had made a rope of my sheets,

and had it fast in no time to one of the guns; then, manning the gangway, for I knew what sort of a customer I had to deal with, I scraped my best bow, and invited the old Don to go down afore me. It was doing the handsome thing by him any how; but after giving a look over, he

furls up his arms one within another, and turns his back on my rope, as if it warn't fit to hang a dog. I thought at first as how he fancied it didn't look strong enough; but it was nothing after all but his Spanish pride. What do you think the old stiffbacked beggar said? “I don't object to the rope," says he; "nor I don't object to escape," says he; "but I'll stand here till the day of judgment," says he, “before I'll escape," says he, “by letting myself down!"

AN INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP.

BY ROBERT BROWNING.

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:

A mile or so away

On a little mound, Napoleon

Stood on our storming-day;

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,

Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow Oppressive with its mind.

Just as perhaps he mused "My plans
That soar, to earth may fall,

Let once my army-leader Lannes
Waver at yonder wall,”—

Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound
Full-galloping; nor bridle drew

Until he reached the mound.

Then off there flung in smiling joy,

And held himself erect

By just his horse's mane, a boy :
You hardly could suspect—
(So tight he kept his lips compressed,
Scarce any blood came through)

You looked twice ere you saw his breast

Was all but shot in two.

Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's

grace

We've got you Ratisbon !

The Marshal's in the market-place,

And you'll be there anon

To see your flag-bird flap his vans

Where I, to heart's desire,

Perched him!" The Chief's eye flashed;

his plans

Soared up again like fire.

The Chief's eye flashed; but presently

Softened itself, as sheathes

A film the mother-eagle's eye

When her bruised eaglet breathes :

"You're wounded!" "Nay," his soldier's

pride

Touched to the quick, he said:

"I'm killed, Sire!" And the Chief beside, Smiling the boy fell dead.