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with the hope of the morrow’s success, that they were absolutely incapable of repose. As they passed the wakeful hours, and the silence and darkness of midnight stole upon them, while the fires of the sleeping soldiers, now almost extinct, threw their last rays of light over the heaps of arms piled around, they gave themselves up to profound meditation. They reflected on the wonderful events of our strange expedition: they mused on the result of a battle which was to decide the fate of two powerful empires: they compared the silence of the night with the tumult of the morrow: they fancied that Death was now hovering over their crowded ranks, but the darkness of the night prevented them from distinguishing who would be the unhappy victims: They then thought of their parents— their country— and the uncertainty whether they should ever see these beloved objects again, plunged them into the deepest melancholy. But suddenly, before daybreak, the beat of the drum was heard, the officers cried to arms, the men eagerly rushed to their different stations, and all, in order for battle, awaited the signal for action. The colonels placing themselves in the centre of their regiments, ordered the trumpet to sound, and every captain, surrounded by his company, read aloud the following proclamation:—
“Soldiers—This is the battle so much desired by you! The victory depends on yourselves. Its is now necessary to us. It will give us abundance, good winter quarters, and a prompt return to our country! Behave as at
