tions by keeping his plans confined within his own breast; in masking his movements by swarms of light troops when drawing near his adversaries, and in attacking vigorously when the moment for action arrived. What little there was of novelty in his mode of attack was faulty; for he continued the system adopted by his republican predecessors, of pushing forward dense columns of raw recruits against the well-formed lines of the enemy, totally regardless of the loss of life.—Military Life of Wellington, by Jackson and Scott.

44. EXECUTION of the Duke d'Enghien.

This sanguinary scene took place at the castle of Vincennes. It was General Ordener, commandant of the horse-grenadiers of the guard, who received orders from the minister of war to proceed to the Rhine, in order to give instructions to the chiefs of the gendarmerie of New Brisach, which was placed at his disposal. This general sent a detachment of gendarmerie to Ettenheim, where the Duke d'Enghien was arrested on March 15. He was immediately conducted to the citadel of Strasburg, where he remained until the 18th to give time for orders to be received from Paris. These orders were given rapidly, and promptly executed; for the carriage which conveyed the unfortunate prince arrived at the barrier of Paris at eleven o'clock on the morning of the 20th. It remained there for five hours, and then departed by the exterior boulevard on the road to Vincennes, where it arrived at night. Every scene of this horrible affair took place during the night—the sun did not even shine upon its tragic close. The soldiers had orders to proceed to Vincennes during the night; it was at night that the fatal gates were closed upon the prince; at night the court was assembled to try him, or rather to condemn him without trial. When the clock struck six on the morning of March 21, the order was given to fire, and the prince ceased to live.—Bourrienne.

45. A SPANISH GENERAL-IN-CHIEF.

On the 21st the two commanders-in-chief dined together; and in return for the military spectacle Cuesta had given Sir Arthur, the British troops were drawn out in the evening for

his inspection. The mounting on horseback to proceed to the review, showed how ill-fitted was Cuesta for the activity of war. He was lifted on his horse by two grenadiers, while one of his aides-de-camp was ready on the other side to conduct his right leg over the horse's croup and place it in the stirrup! Remarks were whispered at this moment that if his mental energy and activity did not compensate for his bodily infirmity, Sir Arthur would find him but an incapable coadjutor. The general passed along the line from the left to the right, just as the night fell; and we saw him put comfortably into an antiquated squarecornered coach, drawn by nine mules, and proceed to his quarters.-Earl of Munster.

46. THE SPANISH GUERRILLAS.

The French had never found any difficulty in defeating the Spanish armies; but now they were engaged with the nation -they stood side by side in the market-places with men who were marking them for a prey. The peasant was seen ploughing peaceably in his field; but in one of the furrows lay his long Spanish gun, ready to give aid in any chance contest between the partidas, or guerrillas, and the passing detachments of the enemy. Not a mountain pass in the romantic land but there lay among the rocks and bushes a group of these fierce and formidable men, awaiting the expected convoy or the feeble company. Even in the plains the posts of correspondence were compelled to fortify a belfry, or tower, or house; and the sentinel kept his vigilant look-out from a scaffolding of planks, that he might see all that passed in the fields around'; nor could any of the soldiers venture beyond the inclosure thus fortified for fear of assassination. To lead these guerrilla bands, the priest girded up his black robe, and stuck pistols in his belt-the student threw aside his books, and grasped a sword—the shepherd forsook his flock-the husbandman his home.-Moyle Sherer.

47. THE BEDOUINS.

By degrees, the numbers of the Bedouins increased, and without offering any resistance to the head of the column, they hovered round us all day, greeting us with wild yells. They

gallop without any order, and singly, to within eighty or a hundred paces of our sharpshooters, and discharge their rifles at full speed. The horse then turns of his own accord, and the rider loads his gun as he retreats; and this is repeated again and again all day long. The Bedouins never wait for a close encounter hand to hand when charged by our cavalry; they disperse in all directions, but instantly return. The only difference between them and the Numidians, of whom Sallust says, 'they fight flying and retreat only to return more numerous than before,' is, that the Numidians of old fought with bows and the Bedouins have rifles. This kind of fighting is equally dangerous and fatiguing to us. It is no joke to be firing in all directions from sunrise to sunset, and to march at the same time, for we seldom halt to fight at our ease. The General only orders a halt when the rearguard is so fiercely attacked as to require reinforcement. Any soldier of the rearguard who is wounded or tired has the pleasant prospect of falling into the hands of the Bedouins, and having his head cut off by them. One comfort is that this operation is speedily performed: two or three strokes with the yataghan are a lasting cure for all pains and sorrows.-The French in Algiers, translated by Lady Duff Gordon.

48. THE COST OF THE BOMBARDMENT OF ALGIERS BY

LORD EXMOUTH.

There are middle-aged Moors in Algiers who can remember very well when Bourmont's cannon were first heard at SidiFerruck; but there are aged Moors whose recollection will carry them still further back, and who have a distinct remembrance of the year 1817, when Lord Exmouth rained shot and shell from the British fleet into Algiers. The conquest by the French did not take place until thirteen years later; but there is no doubt that the assault made by Lord Exmouth broke the neck of the piratical power of the Barbary States. The scare in Algiers was awful. The terrified mob forced the Dey to come to terms, and the Janissaries strangled him shortly afterwards for having come to them. There is still, among some old people, a droll kind of uncertainty as to why the English should have knocked the city to pieces without sacking it and murdering the inhabitants. They can't

understand why the Engliz should have gone away. 'How much did it cost your nation to bombard my forts?' asked the Dey of Lord Exmouth when the treaty of peace was signed. The gallant sailor gave him a rough estimate of the number of thousands of pounds sterling the expedition would probably cost. 'Allah is great!' exclaimed the Dey. If you had only told me beforehand and given me half the money, I would have saved you all this trouble and bombarded the town myself.'

49. SIDI-EMBAREK, THE HOLY MARABOUT.

Before the awful earthquake which in 1825 destroyed both Kolea and Blidah, the first-named place was a kind of miniature Mecca, to which the Arabs, from hundreds of miles round, made pilgrimages. The Kolea of the present day is notable mainly for a very cosy little inn, a couple of cafés, and a military club; but a quarter of a century since it was the locale of the shrine of Sidi-Embarek. The sainted Marabout came down to Milliana with two servants. He could not pay these gentry their wages; he consequently turned them out of doors. They went away to the boarders of the Chelif, where they begat children, who became the tribe of the Hachems of the east. Sidi-Embarek then repaired to Kolea, where he engaged himself as a ploughman, to one Ismaïl, a farmer. The holy man-Sidi, I mean— had, however, contracted the habit, not uncommon among his countrymen, of going to sleep instead of working. Ismaïl, like a jolly farmer taking his walks abroad over his acres, espies his lazy ploughman asleep under a fig-tree. Forthwith he makes up to him with a big stick, when, wonderful to tell, he saw Sidi's oxen ploughing, with never a hand to guide coulter or share, and the furrows were as clean as whistles. The tradition likewise adds that while Sidi thus slumbered he was guarded by a covey of partridges, who, the holy man being much tormented by fleas and other small deer even more objectionable, performed all that was requisite in the way of scratching and exterminating for the somnolent saint. After this, nothing of course was left for Farmer Ismaïl save to fall down at the feet of Sidi-Embarek and worship him. 'Oh, my lord!' cried this benighted agriculturist, 'thou art clearly the elect of Allah. Henceforward thou shalt be the master, and I the servant.' Whereupon

the holy Sidi-Embarek set up a koubba; devotees came to worship, bringing gifts; and he gathered great riches. His descendants —for he was a married Marabout—were respected even by the Turks, and the few who still exist continue to exert a considerable though occult influence.

50. SELF-ESTIMATE OF PROGRESS.

It is curious, and it is instructive to remark, how heartily men, as they grow towards middle age, despise themselves as they were a few years since. It is a bitter thing for a man to confess that he is a fool; but it costs little effort to declare that he was a fool a good while ago. Indeed a tacit compliment to his present self is involved in the latter confession : it suggests the reflection what progress he has made, and how vastly he has improved since then. When a man informs us that he was a very silly fellow in the year 1857, it is assumed that he is not a very silly fellow in the year 1867. It is as when the merchant with ten thousand a year, sitting at his sumptuous table, and sipping his '41 claret, tells you how, when he came as a raw lad from the country, he used often to have to go without his dinner. He knows that the plate, the wine, the massively elegant apartment, the silent servants, so alert yet so impassive, will appear to join in chorus with the obvious suggestion, 'You see he has not to go without his dinner now!' Did you ever, when twenty years old, look back at the diary you kept when you was sixteen; or when twenty-five, at the diary you kept when twenty; or at thirty, at the diary you kept when twenty-five? Was not your feeling a singular mixture of humiliation and self-complacency? What extravagant silly stuff it seemed that you had thus written five years before ! Oh! what a fool he must have been who wrote it! It is a difficult question to which the answer cannot be elicited, Who is the greatest fool in this world? But every candid and sensible man of middle age knows thoroughly well the answer to the question, Who is the greatest fool that he himself ever knew? And after all, it is your diary, especially if you were wont to introduce into it poetical remarks and moral reflections, that will mainly help you to the humiliating conclusion.—A. K. H. B.