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severe weather. The two powers that conquered | torious army. For General Vandamme, who Napoleon were Space and Time. The cold, was at the head of the chief force of the purfrosts, and snows of Russia simply completed suing French, pressed the allies with energy, rewhat those powers had so well begun, and lying on the support of the Emperor, whose so well done. orders he was carrying out in the best manner. This led to the Battle of Kulm, in which Vandamme was defeated, and his army destroyed for the time, because of the overwhelming superiority of the enemy; whereas that action would have been one of the completest French victories, had the Young Guard been ordered to march from Pirna, according to the original intention. The roads were in a most frightful state, in consequence of the wet weather; but, as a victorious army always finds food, soit always find roads over which to advance to the completion of its task, unless its chief has no head. Vandamme had a head, and thought he was winning the Marshal's staff which Napoleon had said was awaiting him in the midst of the enemies retiring masses. So confident was he that the Emperor would support him, that he would not retreat while yet it was in his power to do so; and the consequence was that his corps d'armée was torn to pieces, and himself captured. Napoleon had the meanness to charge Vandamme with going too far and seeking to do too much, as he supposed he was slain, and therefore could not prove that he was simply obeying orders, as well as acting in exact accordance with sound military principles. That Vandamme was right is established by the fact that an order came from Napoleon to Marshal Mortier, who commanded at Pirna, to reinforce him with two divisions; but the order did not reach Mortier until after Vandamme had been defeated. Marshal Saint-Cyr, who was bound to aid Vandamme, was grossly negligent, and failed of his duty; but even he would have acted well had he been acting under the eye of the Emperor, as would have been the case, had not the weather of the 27th broken down the health of Napoleon, and had not other disasters to the French, all caused by the same storm that had raged round Dresden, induced Napoleon to direct his personal attention to points remote from the scene of his last triumph.*

In the grand campaign of 1813, the weather had an extraordinary influence on Napoleon's fortunes, the rains of Germany really doing him far more mischief than he had experienced from the snows of Russia; and, oddly enough, a portion of this mischief came to him through the gate of victory. The war between the French and the Allies was renewed in the middle of August, and Napoleon purposed crushing the army of Silesia, under old Blücher, and marched upon it; but he was recalled by the advance of the Grand Army of the Allies upon Dresden; for, if that city had fallen into their hands, his communications with the Rhine would have been lost. Returning to Dresden, he restored affairs there on the 26th of August; and, on the 27th, the Battle of Dresden was fought-the last of his great victories. It was a day of mist and rain, the mist being thick and the rain heavy. Under cover of the mist, Murat surprised a portion of the Austrian infantry, and, as their muskets were rendered unserviceable by the rain, they fell a prey to his horse, who were assisted by infantry and artillery, more than sixteen thousand men being killed, wounded, or captured. The left wing of the Allies was annihilated. So far all was well for the Child of Destiny; but Nemesis was preparing to exact her dues very swiftly. A victory can scarcely be so called, unless it be well followed up; and whether Dresden should be another Austerlitz depended upon what might be done during the next two or three days. Napoleon did not act with his usual energy on that critical occasion, and in seven months he had ceased to reign. Why did he refrain from reaping the fruits of victory? Because the weather, which had been so favour able to his fortunes on the 27th, was quite as unfavourable to his person. On that day he was exposed to the rain for twelve hours, and when he returned to Dresden at night he was wet to the skin, and covered with mud, while the water was streaming from his chapeau, which the storm had knocked out of a cocked hat. It was a peculiarity of Napoleon's constitution, that he could not expose himself to damp without bringing on a pain in the stomach; and this pain seized him at noon on the 28th, when he had partaken of a repast at Pirna, whither he had gone in the course of his operations against the beaten enemy. This illness caused him to cease his personal exertions, but not from giving such orders as the work before him required him to issue. Perhaps it would have had no evil effect, had it not been that, while halting at Pirna, news came to him of two great failures of distant armies, which led him to order the Young Guard to halt at that place an order that cost him his empire. One more march in advance, and Napoloen would have become greater than ever he had been; but that march was not made, and so the flying foe was converted into a vic

* There was a story current that Napoleon's indisposition on the 28th of August was caused by his eating heartily of a shoulder of mutton stuffed with garlic, not the wholesomest food in the world; and the digestive powers having been reduced by long exposure to damp, this dish may have been too much for them. Thiers says that the Imperial illness at Pirna was a malady invented by flatterers," and yet only a few pages before he says that "Napoleon proceeded to Pirna, where he arrived about noon, and where, with a pain in the stomach, to which he was subject after having partaken of a slight repast, he was seized after exposure to damp." Napoleon suffered from stomach complaints from an early period of his career, and one of their effects is greatly to lessen the powers of the sufferer's mind. His want of energy at Borodino was attributed to a disordered stomach, and the Russians were simply beaten, not destroyed, on that field. When he heard of Vandamme's defeat,

When Napoleon was called from the pursuit of Blucher by Schwarzenberg's advance upon Dresden, he confided the command of the army that was to act against that of Silesia to Marshal Macdonald, a brave and honest man, but a very inferior soldier, yet who might have managed to hold his own against so unscientific a leader as the fighting old hussar, had it not been for the terrible rain-storm that began on the night of the 25th of August. The swelling of the rivers, some of them deep and rapid, led to the isolation of the French division, while the rain was so severe as to prevent them from using their muskets. Animated by the most | ardent hatred, the new Prussian levies, few of whom had been in service half as long as our volunteers, and many of whom were but mere boys, rushed upon their enemies, butchering them with butt and bayonet, and forcing them into the boiling torrent of the Katzbach. Puthod's division was prevented from rejoining its comrades by the height of the waters, and was destroyed, though one of the best bodies in the French army.

The Baron Von Muffling, who was present in Blucher's army, says that when the French attempted to protect their retreat at the Katzbach with artillery, the guns stuck in the mud; and he adds-"The field of battle was so saturated by the incessant rain, that a great portion of our infantry left their shoes sticking in the mud, and followed the enemy barefoot." Even a brook, called the Deichsel, was 80 swollen by the rain that the French could cross

Napoleon said, "One should make a bridge of gold for a flying enemy, where it is impossible, as in Vandamme's case, to oppose to him a bulwark of steel." He forgot that his own plan was to have opposed to the enemy a bulwark of steel, and that the non-existence of that bulwark on the 30th of Auguat was owing to his own negligence. Still, the reverse at Kulm might not have proved so terribly fatal, had it not been preceded by the reverses on the Katzbach, which also were owing to the heavy rains, and news of which was the cause of the halting of so large a portion of his pursuing force at Pirna, and the march of many of his best men back to Dresden, his intention being to attempt the restoration of affairs in that quarter, where they have been so sadly compromised under Macdonald's direction. He was as much overworked by the necessity of attending to so many theatres of action as his armies were overmatched in the field by the superior number of the allies. He is said to have repeated the following lines, after musing for a while on

the news from Kulm :

"J'ai servi, commandé, vaincu quarante années; Du monde entre mes mains j'ai vu les destinées, Et j'ai toujours connu qu'en chaque événement Le destin des états dépendait d'un moment." But he had hours, we may say days, to settle his destiny, and was not tied down to a moment. Afterwards he had fairness to admit that he had lost a great opportunity to regain the ascendency in not supporting Vandamme with the whole of the Young Guard.

it at only one place, and there they lost waggons and guns. Old Blucher issued a thundering proclaination for the encouragement of his troops. "In the battle on the Katzbach," he said to them, "the enemy came to meet you with defiance. Courageously, and with the rapidity of lightening, you issued from behind your heights. You scorned to attack them with musketry-fire: you advanced without a halt; your bayonets drove them down the steep ridge of the valley of the raging Neisse and Katzbach. Afterwards you waded through rivers and brooks swollen with rain. You passed nights in mud. You suffered for want of provisions, as the impassable roads and want of conveyance hindered the baggage from following. You struggled with cold, wet, privations, and want of clothing; nevertheless you did not murmur; with great exertions you pursued your routed foe. Receive my thanks for such laudable conduct, The man alone who unites such qualities is a good soldier. One hundred and three cannons, two hundred and fifty ammunition-waggons, the enemy's fieldhospitals, their field-forges, their flour-waggons. one general of division, two generals of brigade, a great number of colonels, staff and other officers, eighteen thousand prisoners, two eagles, and other trophies, are in your hands. The terror of your arms has so seized upon the rest of your opponents, that they will no longer bear the sight of your bayonets. You have seen the roads and fields between the Katzbach and the Bober: they bear the signs of the terror and confusion of your enemy." The bluff old General, who at seventy had more "dash" than all the rest of the leaders of the Allies combined, and who did most of the real fighting business of "those who wished and worked" Napoleon's fall, knew how to talk to soldiers, which is a quality not always possessed leader who can take them to victory, and then by even eminent commanders. Soldiers love a talk to them about it. Such a man is "one of

them."

Napoleon never recovered from the effects of the losses he experienced at Kulm and on the Katzbach-losses due entirely to the wetness of the weather. He went downward from that time with terrible velocity, and was in Elba the next spring, seven months after having been on the Elbe.

Napoleon's last campaign owed its lamentable decision to the peculiar character of the weather for such a thing as severe weather in June, in on its last two days though one would not look Flanders. But so it was, and Waterloo would have been a French victory, and Wellington nowhere, if the rain that fell so heavily on the 17th of June had been postponed only twentyfour hours. Up to the afternoon of the 17th, the weather, though very warm, was dry, and the French were engaged in following their enemies. The Anglo-Dutch infantry had retreated from Quatre-Bras, and the cavalry was following, and was itself followed by the French cavalry, who pressed it with great audacity.

"The weather," says Captain Siborne, "during the morning, had become oppressively hot; it was now a dead calm; not a leaf was stirring; and the atmosphere was close to an intolerable degree while a dark, heavy, dense cloud impended over the combatants. The 18th English Hussars were fully prepared, and awaited but the command to change, when the brigade guns on the right commenced firing, for the purpose of previously disturbing and breaking the order of the enemy's advance. The concussion seemed instantly to rebound through the still atmosphere, and communicate, as an electric spark, with the heavily charged mass above. A most awfully loud thunder-clap burst forth, immediately succeeded by a rain which has never, probably, been exceeded in violence even within the tropics. In a very few minutes the ground became petfectly saturated-so much so, that it was quite impracticable for any rapid movement of the cavalry." This storm prevented the French from pressing with due force upon their retiring foes; but that would have been but a small evil, if the storm had not settled into a steady and heavy rain, which converted the fat Flemish soil into mud. All through the night the windows of heaven were open, as if weeping over the spectacle of two hundred thousand men preparing to butcher each other. Occasionally the rain fell in torrents. greatly distressing the soldiers who had no tents. On the morning of the 18th the rain ceased, but the day continued cloudy, and the sun did not show himself until the moment before setting, when for an instant he blazed forth in full glory upon the forward movements of the Allies. One may wonder if Napoleon then thought of that morning "Sun of Austerlitz," which he had so often apostrophized in the days of his meridian triumphs. The evening sun of Waterloo was the practical antithesis to the rising sun of Austerlitz.

If space permitted, we could bring forward many other facts to show the influence of weather on the operations of war. We could show that it was owing to changes of wind that the Spaniards failed to take Leyden, the fall of which into their hands would probably have proved fatal to the Dutch cause; that a sudden thaw prevented the French from seizing the Hague in 1672, and compelling the Dutch to acknowledge themselves subjects of Louis XIV.; that a change of wind enabled William of Orange to land in England, in 1688, without fighting a battle, when even victory might have been fatal to his purpose; that Continental expeditions fitted out for the purpose of restoring the Stuarts to the British throne were more than once ruined by the occurrence of tempests. That the "misty, chilly, and insalubrious" weather of Louisiana, and its mud, had a marked effect on Sir Edward Pakenham's army, and helped the Americans to victory over one of the finest forces ever sent by Europe to the West; that in 1828 the Russians lost myriads of men and horses, in the Danubian country and its vicinity, through heavy rains and hard

frosts: that the November hurricane of 1854 all but paralyzed the allied forces in the Crimea; and many similar things that establish the helplessness of men in arms when the weather is adverse to them.

THINGS THAT NEVER DIE.

The pure, the bright, the beautiful,
That stirred our hearts in youth,
The impulse to a wordless prayer,
The dreams of love and truth.
The longings after something lost,
The spirit's yearning cry,
The strivings after better hopes—
These things can never die.

The timid hand stretched forth to aid A brother in his need,

The kindly words in grief's dark hour,

That proves a friend indeed;
The plea for mercy softly breathed,

When justice threatens high,
The sorrow of a contrite heart-
These things will never die.

The memory of a clasping hand,

The pressure of a kiss,
And all the trifles sweet and frail,

That make up love's first bliss;
If, with a firm, unchanging faith,

And holy trust and high,

Those hands have clasped, those lips have met― These things shall never die.

The cruel and the bitter word,

That wounded as it fell,
The chilling want of sympathy,

We feel but never tell;

The hard repulse that chills the heart,
Whose hopes are bounding high,
In an unfading record kept-

Those things shall never die.

Let nothing pass, for every hand

Must find some work to do; Lose not a chance to waken love,

Be firm, and just, and true. So shall a light, that cannot fade,

Beam to thee from on high, And angel voice will say to theeThese things shall never die.

THE LADIES' PAGE.

LADY'S WATCH-POCKET IN NETTED EMBROIDERY.

MATERIALS.-One reel Boar's-head crochet cotton No. 16, of Messrs. Walter Evans and Co., Derby, twó meshes, one flat, nearly half an inch wide, and the other round, steel No. 16; a netting needle; one skein of coloured wool, of any colour to suit the drapery of the room: a yard of inch-wide sarcenet ribbon; a round of card-board, and a small piece of silk the same colour as the wool.

On a foundation of 28 stitches net one round with wide mesh.

2nd round. Small mesh, one in each. 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th. Same as 2nd.

th7. Large mesh, two in each. 8th. Small mesh, one in each. 9th and 10th. Same as 8th.

Fasten off and work the edge as before.

In the 14th round darn every alternate diamond with the wool.

On a foundation of 18 stitches, with wide mesh, net one round.

2nd. Small mesh, two in each. 3rd. Small mesh, one in each. Do five more rounds the same, and work the as before; darn every alternate diamond in 6th round.

Fasten the thread, and with the wool cover the entire outside round of meshes with loosely-edge wrought button-hole stitches. This forms the first round of the pocket.

On the same foundation, with wide mesh, net one plain round.

2nd round. Wide meshes, two stitches in each.

3rd. Small mesh, net two stitches together all round.

4th. Small mesh, one in each.

Do six more rounds the same.

11th. Small mesh, two stitches in each. 12th. Small mesh, one in each.

13th, 14th, 15th, and 16th. Small mesh, one stitch in each.

Take a round of card-board the size of a large watch, leaving about an inch above the round at the top, cover it with the silk, lay the first piece of netting flat on it, and stitch it round.

Now take the second piece and stitch the 5th round of diamonds down tightly, rather more than half round, so as to make the edge come to the 7th round of the first piece. This will leave it loose in the centre to form the pocket. Stitch the other piece of netting to the middle of this, and finish with a knot of ribbon in the centre. Attach a piece double, about three inches long, to the top, and add a rosette and ends.

MOSS FOR A MAT.

MATERIALS.-One dozen light green, one dozen dark green skeins of Berlin wool; bone knitting pins.

[blocks in formation]

Cast on 5 stitches, *, knit 5, pull the second last stitch on right-hand needle over the last 4 times, pick up the loop at the end and knit it, pull the other over it, slip the stitch that remains on to the left-hand needle, cast on 4 stitches, repeat from * 4 times more, then take up the long loop at the straight edge of each point, and knit it; this will make 6 on the needle; seam 2 together and seam 2, seam 2

together, turn, knit 4, take up the last stitch of the first point and knit it, turn and cast off, slipping the first stitch and seaming the others, cast on 1 stitch, pull the stitch to the left haud over it, repeat from 6 times, cast on 4 stitches, and repeat from the first cross till you have made the length you wish. This is a very strong trimming for children's things,

LEAVES FOR THE LITTLE ONE S.

LITTLE DICK.

(A True Story.)

BY "METEOR."

It is the fashion now-a-days to write "true stories" about many things, and these stories are not always true, but only false and wicked inventions. However, the tale I am about to tell you now is of things I myself saw and heard, and will always remember, and often love to think about.

Before telling you this simple story of a little suffering child, I should like to impress upon all who may chance to be my readers (old as well as young) how true and pure a pleasure may be found by all of us in striving, each in our own particular sphere and way, to bring a bit of comfort and a ray of sunshine into the homes of the poor around us. Nothing seems to me more sad than to think of one who lies down to rest at night and has left undone that little kindness; left unspoken that little word of sympathy; left ungiven that little offering that might have cheered a suffering fellow creature, or even held him back from sin. Surely in the lives of some sins of omission will form a heavier charge than any other!

During a wandering and changeful life I have seen much of poverty, much of sickness, much of death, and I have often paid the tribute of deep and earnest gratitude to those who, from my earliest childhood, taught me to withhold neither help nor sympathy when it was in my power to bestow either. I have learnt that the benefit is not altogether on one side; that truly the "quality of mercy is twice blessed it blesseth him that gives, and him that takes," for comfort is given to us as well as by us from the suffering ones of God's world, and we learn many a holy lesson that will stand us good in our own hour of need.

At one time, some years ago, I used often to visit the wards of a foreign hospital, and the pitiful and patient suffering I there witnessed, the heartfelt gratitude for the smallest kindness, often led me to feel how light, in comparison to the lot of these poor creatures, were my own troubles and trials.

I especially remember the case of a young seaman (belonging to a French merchant vessel), who, while in a strange port, fell from one of the masts and broke both his thighs. Though treated with every care and kindness by Dr. Pisani, the admirable surgeon of the hospital, and tended by those gentle sisters of charity, that are the best of all nurses, he was very lonely surrounded by those who could neither speak nor understand his own language, and

to whom he could only indicate his wants by signs and signals. I well remember his pale, patient face, drawn with pain, yet full of endurance, lying back upon the pillow, and the sudden gleam and flash of light that came over it as I addressed him in his own tongue. Tears of joy gathered in his eyes, and he held my hand in a grasp that trembled with excess of feeling. From that day I saw him frequently, and he spoke to me of those he loved, and should never see again; for the fiat had gone forth, and one day as I entered the ward I saw his bed was empty, and the " sister" met me with the simple words: "é morta." Yes; he had died among strangers, and far from the mother of whom he had spoken so lovingly. I thanked God that it had been granted to me to break through the isolation of his last days-but I am wandering far from "Little Dick."

During the summer of the present year, while living in the South of Ireland, I was one morning disturbed by the sound of a long argument, apparently being held on the doorstep, between my cook and some very earnest petitioner. I had been seriously ill, and therefore my servants hesitated to disturb me so early in the day; but something in the voice, that was full of trouble, led me to inquire into the matter, and I rung my bell.

"It is a poor old woman," was the information I received; "she wants to beg a spoonful of jam for a dying child. She's brought a cup and a spoon to take it in, and has been to six doors already and can't get any. I was just about telling her you hadn't a bit in the house, or I knew you'd be after giving it her."

In a moment there flashed through my mind the pitiful picture of a little suffering creature in some of those dreadful narrow squalid streets not far from my own home. I fancied an eager, watching, waiting face, pinched with pain and want, and the bitter disappointment when the cup and spoon came home empty from a quest that had been in vain. The result of this fancy-picture was that I said: "Go and see if that poor woman is out of sight, and, if not, call her back."

She came: I did not see her, only sent down a written order to my grocer to "give the bearer a small pot of strawberry jam, for me." I also obtained her name and address. This last was, as I expected, in the lowest and most povertystricken part of the town.

As time passed I regained my usual strength, and one day I made up my mind to go and find the child that had been sick so long-for the poor woman had said he was "two years bad." No one but those who have seen the narrow streets of hovels in Irish towns can conceive what they are-and certainly anyone would

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