stood. We saw them riding through the guns, as I have said; to our delight we saw them returning after breaking through a column of Russian infantry, and scattering them like chaff, when the flank fire of the battery on the hill swept them down, scattered and broken as they were. Wounded men and dismounted troopers flying towards us told the sad tale. Demigods conld not have done what they had failed to do. At the very moment when they were about to retreat, an enormous mass of Lancers was hurled on their flank. Colonel Shewell, of the 8th Hussars, saw the danger, and rode his few men straight at them, cutting his way through with fearful loss. The other regiments turned, and engaged in a desperate encounter. With courage too great almost for credence, they were breaking their way through the columns which enveloped them, when there took place an act of atrocity without parallel in the modern warfare of civilised nations. The Russian gunners, when the storm of cavalry passed, returned to their guns. They saw their own cavalry mingled with the troopers who had just ridden over them; and, to the eternal disgrace of the Russian name, the miscreants poured a murderous volley on the mass of struggling men and horses, mingling friend and foe in one common ruin. It was as much as our heavy cavalry brigade could do to cover the retreat of the miserable remnants of the band of heroes as they returned to the place they had so lately quitted. At thirty-five minutes past eleven not a British soldier, except the dead and dying, was left in front of these guns.—RUSSELL. THE MONKEY AND THE CHILD. In the year 1818 a handsome vessel that sailed between Whitehaven and Kingston, Jamaica, started on her home ward voyage, and among other passengers was a lady, the mother of an infant only a few weeks old. When the weather permitted, the mother took regular exercise on deck, sometimes with the infant in her arms, but oftener at a moment when it had been hushed to sleep by the motion of the ship, the rushing of the waters, and the whisperings of the breeze. In August the weather became remarkably fine; and one beautiful afternoon, when the vessel was majestically speeding along, the captain perceived a distant sail-a sight that is always welcome at sea, and which, amidst the vast solitudes of the Atlantic, may be compared to the meeting of pilgrims in a desert. The discovery attracted the attention of all on board, and after the captain had gratified his curiosity, he politely offered his glass to the lady alluded to, that she might obtain a clear view of an object which the naked eye was unable to distinguish from the fleecy clouds which overspread the horizon. At this moment she had the baby in her arms, but she immediately wrapped her shawl about it; and placed it on the sofa on which she had been sitting. The captain assisted her to steady the glass, but scarcely had she applied her eye to it than the helmsman cried, in a voice trembling with emotion, "See what that mischievous monkey has done!" The mother's feelings may be imagined, when, on instantly turning round, she saw that a large, strong, and active monkey, which was on board the vessel, had grasped the infant firmly with one arm, and with the other was nimbly climbing the shrouds, evidently intent on reaching the very top of the mainmast. One look was sufficient for the terrified mother, and that look had well-nigh been her last. Though she attempted to speak, the words died away on her lips, or were rendered inarticulate by her sobs and groans, and had it not been for the prompt assistance of those around, she would have fallen on the deck, where she was soon after laid, to all appearance a corpse. At this crisis the captain was sore distressed. When he looked at the mother, speechless, motionless, and deadly pale, he almost fancied that life had fled: and when he thought of the child borne far aloft by so strange a nurse, he dreaded every moment that the capricious monkey would have become tired of its toy, and either dash it on the deck or drop it in the ocean. Often as he had crossed the wide Atlantic, braved its perils and borne the terrors of the winter's storm, never, amidst all the chances and changes of a seaman's life, had his feelings been exposed to so severe a trial. It is true the sailors could climb as well as the monkey, but any attempt to capture it was dangerous, for the moment they endeavoured to put a foot on the shrouds, the captain feared that it would drop the child and endeavour to escape by leaping from one mast to another. In the meantime the infant was heard to cry; and though many supposed from this that it was suffering pain, their fears on this point were speedily dissipated, when they observed the monkey imitating exactly the motions of a nurse, by dandling, soothing, and caressing the child, and even endeavouring to hush it to sleep. Many a plan had been tried to lure the culprit from the mast-head, but, fiuding all fail, the captain, as a last resort, ordered every man to conceal himself below. The order was promptly obeyed, and he now took a seat where he could see without being seen. To his indescribable relief, the monkey, on finding that the coast was clear, cautiously descended from the mast-head, and replaced the infant on the sofa from which it was taken, cold, fretful, and perhaps frightened, but in every other respect free from injury. The captain had now a most grateful task to perform, and the babe was immediately restored to its mother's arms.— CASSELL'S NATURAL HISTORY. THE ANT. Turn on the prudent ant thy heedful eyes, Amidst the drowsy charms of dull delight, -JOHNSON. DEATH OF THE SON OF KING HENRY I. The fleet destined for the return of the royal party from Normandy to England was lying in the port of Harfleur, in the month of December, 1120, and all things were ready for the reception of the voyagers. They were on the point of weighing anchor, when a Norman mariner, called Fitz-Stephen, approaching King Henry I. and presenting him with a piece of gold, thus addressed him: Etienne, son of Herard, my father, all his life, followed thy father on the sea! he steered the vessel in which thy father sailed to the conquest of England. I ask of thee that thou wouldst grant me the like honour. I have a ship, called La Blanche Nef, in readiness for thee; sail in her as thy father did in the ship of my father." The King replied that it was too late to change the vessel destined for his own conveyance, but that in consideration of the request of a son of Etienne, the young prince and all the treasure should be confided to his safe conduct. This compromise being accepted, the King embarked and reached England in safety. But Prince William spent several hours on deck, feasting and dancing. with his gay and thoughtless companions, before he would permit the anchor of the Blanche Nef to be lifted. The vessel was manned by fifty skilful rowers; the son of Etienne was at the helm, and they held their course rapidly under a clear moon, coasting along Normandy, before reaching the open sea. The rowers, stimulated by the wine, with which in the riot of the moment they had been too plentifully supplied, resolved on attempting to overtake the vessel of the king; but, too eager to accomplish this, they incautiously entangled themselves among the rocks by which that dangerous coast is protected. The hand of the helmsman proved untrue, and, amidst the shouts and merriment of her disorderly company, the white ship struck with all the velocity of her course, and immediately began to fill. Prince William was instantly lowered into a boat, and might with ease have reached the shore, but the screams of his sister Adela recalled him to her aid; numbers rushed into the small boat as she once more approached the sinking bark, and she was instantly swamped, all within |