ing their swords, they rushed out to the assembled troops, while I slowly followed. It was really well that I was in the background, and therefore not observed; for, although not generally fearful, I seemed now as if struck with a panic. It may have been that I am naturally more timid at evening than in broad daylight.
Suddenly I was aroused from my terror by the voice of my commander—“Adjutant-general, march with twenty men to the churchyard, for our post is there attacked. We will remain here, as it seems only a skirmish; but if needs be, send for succour.”
It was fortunate that my courage was not called in question, for self-respect restored it to me; till, when we reached the churchyard, all again became suddenly black before my eyes, and taking the old wall, covered with dry briars, for French troops, and the thorns for bayonets, I sprung aside, while calling aloud, “Take aim—fire!”
The flash of the powder immediately discovered to us that we were waging battle against a wall, but at the same moment there was a cry of “pardon! pardon!” from the opposite side, and seven French infantry crept under the wall, where they had been concealed, and laid their arms at my feet. The fools—if they had but kept quiet, they would have entirely escaped observation. My prisoners were speedily disarmed and conducted to head-quarters; and it may be supposed that it was not without some honest pride that I presented myself before my commander-in-chief. He embraced me most cordially in the sight of the whole army, adding, “Adjutant, your courage and prompt action have done you honour; and be assured that you shall be speedily reported to his majesty the king.”
From our prisoners we learned that a corps of French artillery was stationed in the adjacent village; that seeking for fuel they were surprised to find a numerous band of Prussians in the neighbourhood, as they were led to believe us much larger than we really were, from the number of our guard and the noise made by our drums and trumpets; and that in their sudden retreat the seven captives had been unfortunately taken. In my exultation, I treated the vanquished with every thing that our stores allowed, and the poor fellows really seemed to enjoy their good luck, and freely informed me that the whole corps were then on their way from Saxony to Berlin, under the command of Marshal Davoust. I mentioned this fact to my general, who, flushed by our great achievement, rubbed his hands, exclaiming, with exultation—“Aha, we are certainly on the rear of Napoleon’s army,” while the hussar hung down his head and became pale with terror.
(To be continued.)
THE GOLD PEN.—A POEM.
(INSCRIBED TO THE GENTLEMAN WHO PRESENTED THE GIFT.)
BY MRS. SARAH JOSEPHA HALE.
Have ever with earth’s humble things been blent,—
When ancient Lore and Law Divine were worded,
A simple reed was all the instrument.
Caught inspiration from the fount of light,
His sceptre, waved above the world adoring,
Was but a feather seized to aid his flight.
The surer way to rule the world have found—
They wrest the stubborn steel from War, their neighbour,
To bid thought flow, as he did blood, around.
When precious things to precious uses given,
Shall make true glory what the Poet dreameth,
Who weds the flowers of earth with stars of heaven.
To gild the heathen’s god, the tyrant’s sway;
No longer will the man of wealth be quoted
By what he gains—but what he gives away.
Will be a spirit loving, meek and pure,
With angel-watchfulness the ill preventing—
With angel-kindness seeking wo to cure.
And Truth the diamond star that decks the great—
And Virtue’s patriot voice assign the stations
That lead to honour in the ordered State.
The Moon, full-orbed, his evening smile doth throw,
So shall the Mind, enlarged, shine forth resplendent,
When holy thoughts from golden pens shall flow.
This glorious triumph of the good and true,
I’d say, and every boast of pride ’twould chasten,
“What grateful thanks are to the Giver due!”
