house, at the barrier-gate, undiscovered, for the ripple of the waters smothered the sound of their footsteps; but just then the explosion at the breaches took place, the moon shone out, and the French sentinels, discovering the columns, fired. The British troops immediately springing forward under a sharp musketry, began to hew down the wooden barrier at the covered way, while the Portuguese, being panic-stricken, threw down the scaling-ladders. Nevertheless the others snatched them up again, and forcing the barrier, jumped into the ditch; but the guiding engineer officer was killed, and there was a cunette, which embarrassed the column, and when the foremost men succeeded in rearing the ladders, the latter were found too short, for the walls were generally above thirty feet high. Meanwhile the fire of the French was deadly, a small mine was sprung beneath the soldiers' feet, beams of wood and live shells were rolled over on their heads, showers of grape from the flank swept the ditch, and man after man dropped dead from the ladders.

"Fortunately some of the defenders having been called away to aid in recovering the castle, the ramparts were not entirely manned, and the assailants, having discovered a corner of the bastion where the scarp was only twenty feet high, placed three ladders there under an embrasure which had no gun, and was only stopped with a gabion. Some men got up, but with difficulty, for the ladders were still too short, and the first man who gained the top was pushed up by his comrades, and then drew others after him, until many had gained the summit; and though the French shot heavily against them, from both flanks and from a house in front, they thickened and could not be driven back; half the fourth regiment entered the town itself to dislodge the enemy from the houses, while the others pushed along the rampart towards the breach, and by dint of hard fighting successively won three bastions.

"In the last of these combats General Walker leaping forward, sword in hand, at the moment when one of the enemy's cannoneers was discharging a gun, fell covered with so many wounds that it was wonderful how he could survive, and some of the soldiers immediately after, perceiving a lighted match on the ground, cried out, "A mine!'

At that word, such is the power of imagination, those troops whom neither the strong barrier, nor the deep ditch, nor the high

walls, nor the deadly fire of the enemy could stop, staggered back appalled by a chimera of their own raising, and in this disorder, a French reserve, under General Viellande, drove on them with a firm and rapid charge, and pitching some men over the walls and killing others outright, again cleared the ramparts even to the San Vincente. There, however, Leith had placed Colonel Nugent with a battalion of the thirty-eighth as a reserve, and when the French came up, shouting and slaying all before them, this battalion, about two hundred strong, arose, and with one close volley destroyed them.

"Then the panic ceased, the soldiers rallied, and in compact order once more charged along the walls towards the breaches, but the French, although turned on both flanks and abandoned by fortune, did not yet yield; and meanwhile the detachment of the fourth regiment, which had entered the town when the San Vincente was first carried, was strangely situated, for the streets were empty and brilliantly illuminated, and no person was seen; yet a low buzz and whisper were heard around, lattices were now and then gently opened, and from time to time shots were fired from underneath the doors of the houses by the Spaniards. However, the troops, with bugles sounding, advanced towards the great square of the town, and in their progress captured several mules going with amunition to the breaches; but the square itself was as empty and silent as the streets, and the houses as bright with lamps; a terrible enchantment seemed to be in operation, for they saw nothing but light, and heard only the low whispers close around them, while the tumult at the breaches was like the crashing thunder.

"There, indeed, the fight was still plainly raging, and hence, quitting the square, they attempted to take the garrison in reverse, by attacking the ramparts from the town side, but they were received with a rolling musketry, driven back with loss, and resumed their movement through the streets. At last the breaches were abandoned by the French, other parties entered the place, desultory combats took place in various parts, and finally General Viellande, and Phillipon, who was wounded, seeing all ruined, passed the bridge with a few hundred soldiers and entered San Cristoval, where they all surrendered early the next morning upon summons, to Lord Fitzroy Somerset, who had with great readiness

pushed through the town to the drawbridge ere they had time to organize further resistance. But even in the moment of ruin the night before, the noble governor had sent some horsemen out from the fort to carry the news to Soult's army, and they reached him in time to prevent a still greater misfor

tune.

Now commenced that wild and desperate wickedness, which tarnished the lustre of the soldier's heroism. All indeed were not alike, for hundreds risked, and many lost their lives in striving to stop the violence; but the madness generally prevailed, and as the worst men were leaders here, all the dreadful passions of human nature were displayed. Shameless rapacity, brutal intemperance, savage lust, cruelty, and murder, shrieks and piteous lamentations, groans, shouts, imprecations, the hissing of fires bursting from the houses, the crashing of doors and windows, and the reports of muskets used in violence, resounded for two days and nights in the streets of Badajos! on the third, when the city was sacked, when the soldiers were exhausted by their own excesses, the tumult rather subsided than was quelled. The wounded men were then looked to, the dead disposed of!

"Five thousand men and officers fell during this siege, and of these, including seven hundred Portuguese, three thousand five hundred had been stricken in the assault; sixty officers, and more than seven hundred men, being slain on the spot. The five generals, Kempt, Harvey, Bowes, Colville, and Picton, were wounded, the first three severely; about six hundred men and officers fell in the escalade of San Vincente, as many at the castle, and more than two thousand at the breaches, each division there losing twelve hundred! And how deadly the strife was, at that point, may be gathered from this: the forty-third and fiftysecond regiments of the light division, alone, lost more men than the seven regiments of the third division engaged at the castle!

"Let any man picture to himself this frightful carnage taking place in a space of less than a hundred square yards. Let him consider that the slain died not all suddenly, nor by one manner of death; that some perished by steel, some by shot, some by water; that some were crushed and mangled by heavy weights, some trampled upon, some dashed to atoms by the fiery explosions; that for hours this destruction was endured with

out shrinking, and that the town was won at last; let any man consider this, and he must admit that a British army bears with it an awful power. And false would it be to say that the French were feeble men, for the garrison stood and fought manfully, and with good discipline, behaving worthily. Shame there was none on any side. Yet who shall do justice to the bravery of the soldiers? the noble emulation of the officers? Who shall measure out the glory of Ridge, of Macleod, of Nicholas, or of O'Hare, of the ninety-fifth, who perished on the breach, at the head of the stormers, and with him nearly all the volunteers for that desperate service? Who shall describe the springing valour of that Portuguese grenadier who was killed the foremost man at the Santa Maria? or the martial fury of that desperate soldier of the ninety-fifth, who, in his resolution to win, thrust himself beneath the chained sword-blades, and there suffered the enemy to dash his head to pieces with the ends of their muskets? Who can sufficiently honour the intrepidity of Walker, of Shaw, of Canch, or the resolution of Ferguson of the forty-third, who having in former assaults received two deep wounds, was here, with his hurts still open, leading the stormers of his regiment, the third time a volunteer, and the third time wounded! Nor would I be understood to select these as pre-eminent, many and signal were the other examples of unbounded devotion, some known, some that never will be known; for in such a tumult much passed unobserved, and often the observers fell themselves, ere they could bear testimony to what they saw; but no age, no nation, ever sent forth braver troops to the battle than those who stormed Badajos.

"When the extent of the night's havoc was made known to Lord Wellington, the firmness of his nature gave way for a moment, and the pride of conquest yielded to a passionate burst of grief for the loss of his gallant soldiers."

All good Englishmen must turn from this horrible picture, with a feeling of gratitude to the Almighty, that our seagirt island is yet unexposed to the calamities which befel the unhappy Spaniards -that while other countries have been desolated by invading and contending armies, England has not been the theatre of such long and sanguinary wars.

MISCELLANIES.

HAYDN AND HIS WIFE.

THE celebrated Haydn delighted in telling the origin of his good fortune, which he said he entirely owed to a bad wife. When he was first married, he said, finding no remedy against domestic squabbles, he used to quit his bad half, and go and enjoy himself with his good friends, who were Hungarians and Germans, for weeks together. Once, having returned home after a considerable absence, his wife, while he was in bed next morning, followed her husband's example; she did even more, for she took all his clothes, even to his shoes,

stockings, and small clothes, nay, every thing he had, along with her. Thus situated, he was under the necessity of doing something to cover his nakedness; and this, he himself acknowledged, was the first cause of his seriously applying himself to the profession which has since made his name immortal, He used to laugh, saying, "I was from that time so habituated to study, that my wife, often fearing it would injure me, would threaten me with the same operation, if I did not go out and amuse myself; but then," added he, "I was grown old, and she was sick, and no longer jealous.'

BREAD IN THE TIME OF ELIZABETH.

THE following is the account given by Harrison of the fare of the labouring classes in the reign of Elizabeth: "The bread throughout the land is made of such graine as the soile yeeldeth; neverthelesse the gentilitie commonlie provide themselves sufficientlie of wheate for their owne tables, whilest their household and poore neighbours in some shires are enforced to content themselves with rie or barlie; yea, and in time of dearth, manie with bread either of beanes, peasen, or otes, or of altogither, and some acarns among; of which scourge the poorest doe soonest taste, sith they are least able to provide themselves with better, and I will not saie that this extremitie is oft so well to be seene in time of plentie as of dearth; but if I should, I could easilie bring my trial." He concludes thus-" The artificer and labourer are driven to content themselves with horse-corn, beanes, peasen, otes, tares, and lintels." This was nearly as bad as the peasants of Norway, who in times of scarcity mix the bark of trees, usually the fir-tree, with their oatmeal; they dry this bark before the fire, grind it to powder, mix

it with some oatmeal, then bake it, and eat it like bread: it is bitterish; and affords but little nourishment."

BLARNEY.

THIS is the name of a castle, about three miles from Cork. Adjoining to the inhabited mansion, there was formerly a

large square tower, with a winding stone staircase to the top; the floors were all gone, but the stone roof was entire; it was the custom here for all strangers who ascended to the top of the tower, to creep on their hands and knees to the corner-stone of the highest pinnacle, and kiss the same; by virtue of which, the parties ever after were said to be endowed with extraordinary powers of loquacity and persuasion. Though nothe stone had any such effect, the cusbody could have believed that kissing tom was followed, through innocent mirth, and it accordingly became a comfellow," he has been at Blarney ;" and mon saying at Cork, of any prating hence the phrase, "none of your blarney."

BIRMAN CUSTOMS.

Ar Martaban should any man wish to separate entirely from his wife, with or without her consent, the children of the marriage, and his clothes, gold, ornaments, &c. are taken by her. Should a wife desire separation, but the husband not, she must pay to him double the expense he was put to by the marriage. When a child has attained the age of seven days, its head is shaved, and an entertainment is given: at the same time, some old astrologer inspects the horoscope, and having foretold a fortunate hour, he bestows a name on the child. The visitors then each present it with a piece of money or something of value. The Martabaners generally burn their dead, in compliance with the Budhist ordinances. The poor do not burn the body of a person who has died suddenly, but expose it to birds and dogs. The reason is not known, but perhaps the expense of large quantities of wood and earthsoil, which would be required to consume a body which has not been wasted by disease, may be the cause of the custom. The corpses of priests are burned in the manner described by Captain Symes and by Dr. Carey, in the Asiatic Researches, by being placed on a pile of billets, amongst which are some of odoriferous woods; it is fired by means of rockets let off at a distance, and which reach the pile along a wire stretched for the purpose.

THE CHALLENGE.

(For the Parterre.)

Iago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.

Othello, Act 3, Scene 3.

1

MONSIEUR de L- was an agreeable, sprightly old gentleman of the ancien regime, but he had one very great failing-he was intolerably jealous. This, however, will not excite the wonder of our readers, when they hear that Madame de L- was a very agreeable sprightly dame, full twenty years younger than her husband.

Many a wicked young Parisian took delight in teazing the poor old gentleman, and fanning the flame which the considerate and humane always endeavoured to stifle.

"Ah! my dear Monsieur de L-, what a happy man are you! How is your amiable and lovely spouse?" were the constant exclamations and questions with which he was saluted, whenever he encountered a young friend in the

streets.

Monsieur de L- always, in his heart, wished the quærists at the devil; but politesse obliged him to receive them graciously-in truth, he made himself very miserable; and more than once thought of closed windows and doors, and a pan of lighted charcoal, after the favourite method of his countrymen, when bent on suicide. But, somehow or other, he altered his determination from day to day, and lived on. He always found an excuse for delaying the ceremony. A new Vaudeville was announcedthey were preparing a grand opera with music, that he could not die without hearing, or some great savage from Zealand or Timbuctoo had just arrived, to astonish the Parisians with his outlandish performances, so the charcoal fumes were not put in requisition, and Monsieur de L-continued to exist.

When we say that our old Monsieur was jealous, it will scarcely be necessary to add, that he kept a sharp eye upon Madame, who, as may be supposed, was very much annoyed at it; but she found relief in the consciousness that his suspicions were groundless. She might, perhaps, have sometimes innocently thought,

that as she was yet young she might outlive her ancient partner, and have the good fortune to meet with a somewhat younger husband-but then this was all in perspective-merely in perspective: she was a Frenchwoman-witty, lively, gay, but not corrupt. But to proceed with our story.

Monsieur de L- was one evening returning from a visit to a friend in a distant quarter of the city, and had arrived in sight of his residence, when he saw, with some surprise, a man under the windows of his drawing-room, to which he ever and anon directed an anxious look. Rage took possession of the old Frenchman. His first thought was to rush upon the fellow and annihilate him upon the spot, but then he had no wea pon. A moment's reflection, however, convinced him that it would be better to wait, and have further proof of his wife's supposed infidelity. Concealing himself in a gateway, he saw, while his frame quivered with rage and indignation, the object of his suspicions clamber up with the agility of a monkey, and enter an open window.

Monsieur de L- waited no longer; he rushed into the house and encountered the intruder in the drawing-room.

The enraged husband, forgetting his natural politeness, instantly commenced a torrent of abuse, which the intruder received with great coolness. Of course this only increased the rage of the abusing party: it was a marvel that Monsieur de L- did not go out of his wits at that moment. His almost unintelligible splutterings at length subsided, and addressing the violater of his honour in a calm determined tone; he said:

"Monsieur, you have wounded a Frenchman where he is most vulnerable - you have invaded my dwelling to dishonour me"-here his voice faltered, and his lips quivered; but recovering himself, he continued "The Bois de Boulogne at five to-morrow morning! Pistols! you understand me, eh ?"

"Perfectly well, Monsieur," replied the stranger-" at five precisely, I will meet you-you will bring a friend with you ?"

No," rejoined Monsieur de L—, sternly, "I will possess no one with the hateful story-we will meet alone, if you please."

"Agreed," said the stranger bowing: "Good evening, Monsieur;" and with all possible sang froid he proceeded down stairs, leaving the poor old Frenchman a prey to the most torturing emotions.

The professed novelist would here sprinkle the page with a triple row of stars, while the writers of newspaperparagraphs would inform us, that the scene which took place between Monsieur and Madame, after the departure of the gallant, may be "better imagined than described." It will be sufficient to inform our readers, that at the appointed hour Monsieur de L- arrived at the Bois de Boulogne with pistol in hand, and dire revenge in his heart. He had been pacing up and down about ten minutes, when he beheld two persons approaching.

"The villains!" exclaimed the old Frenchman, "they are come to assassinate me ;" and he resolved to fire upon the pair as they advanced, when one of them called on him to surrender in the name of the law!

Monsieur de L stared with surprise, for he now perceived that neither of the men was the fellow who had appointed to meet him. That surprise was greatly increased, when the police (for such they were) informed him that he was arrested on suspicion of a design to commit highway robbery.

Our old Frenchman was overwhelmed with rage, grief, and mortification, from which he had not recovered when he stood before the prefect at the Bureau de Police.

Luckily for Monsieur, the prefect was an acquaintance of his, and a shrewd clever man, who saw through the affair in a moment.

"Monsieur de L-," said he, "you appear to have fallen into a sad error. I strongly suspect that the man whom you thought your rival was a thief, and that he has given information to the police in revenge for your having thwarted his designs upon your property.

Scarcely had he spoken when Madame de L- entered the office in breathless haste, and confirmed the prefect's suspicions. She had risen immediately on the departure of her jealous spouse, and then discovered what she had overlooked in the turmoil of the preceding evening

that the stranger had possessed himself of several valuable portable articles, as he passed through a room in his way down stairs.

Poor Monsieur de L- was stung with self-reproach, he saw that he had been the dupe of groundless jealousy, and, embracing his wife, swore that he would never again doubt the purity of her conduct.

E. F.