cavalry swept the plain, and the tremendous artillery tore over the field, and crushed, beneath its ironbound wheels, the bodies of the wounded and the fallen ;-then were mingled groans and shouts, shrieks and execrations ;-then was the death which no soft hand alleviated, and no prayer hallowed;-then the spirit burst from its rent and agonized prison-house, into an eternity which must have covered it with astonishment and dismay.-Could we for a moment view the curtain withdrawn, which hangs around mortality, we should be forced to admit, that the deepest terrors of the conflict lay beyond the sepulchre !

At Brussels, in the mean time, all was anxiety and inquiry; those who had ventured as near as they dared to the field, brought back contradictory accounts, but most were unfavourable. Shortly came in some wounded, carried in litters, and on carriages; these could tell but little, as they left the field early. Soon, however, the wounded came in in greater numbers, the hospitals were overstocked, and the houses of individuals were thrown open for their reception. The ladies of the city administered to the wounds and to the necessities of the soldiers; and the same delicate spirits, who would have shuddered in calmer hours to have trampled upon an insect, now bore to hear, although not without many a deep sensation, the groan of agony, as the knife separated every muscle and fibre, and as the amputating saw grated through the bone.

From Grecian Stories, by Maria Hack.

AFTER the Anecdote given of the Duke of Wellington in our last Number, Mrs. B. continues thus:

If such are the feelings of a victorious General, what must be the horror and anguish of him who has lost the battle?-Who sees his brave and faithful soldiers exposed to the

most terrible sufferings, without having the poor consolation of being able to afford them any relief?

Harry.-Very true, mamma. I see that those who make war have a great deal of misery to answer for; but with an officer or a private soldier, you know, the case is different.

Mrs. B.-They certainly cause less misery to others: but I am afraid, my dear Harry, that you have a very imperfect notion of what the poor soldier suffers himself. Here is the second volume of Sandford and Merton; Lucy, you shall read to us Mr. Barlow's description of the life of a soldier.

(Lucy reads.)" But since you are so little acquainted with the business of a soldier, I must show you a little more clearly in what it consists. I must inform you, that there is no human being exposed to suffer a greater degree of hardship. He is often obliged to march whole days in the most violent heat, or cold, or rain; and frequently without victuals to eat, or clothes to cover him. When he stops at night, the most he can expect is a miserable canvass tent to shelter him, that is penetrated in every part by wet, and a little straw to keep his body from the damp, unwholesome earth.-Frequently he cannot meet with even this, and is obliged to lie uncovered upon the ground; by which means he contracts a thousand diseases, which are more fatal than the cannon and weapons of the enemy. Every hour he is exposed to engage in combats, at the hazard of losing his limbs, of being crippled, or mortally wounded. If he gains the victory, he generally has only to begin again and fight anew, till the war is over. If he is beaten, he probably loses his life upon the spot, or is taken prisoner by the enemy; in which case he may languish several months in a dreary prison, in want of all the necessaries of life."

Harry. If Mr. Barlow gives a just description of the life of a soldier,

I am sure it must be a very unhappy

one.

Mrs. B. It is not only the poor soldier who is rendered unhappy by the sufferings arising from war. You have no conception, my dear children, of the terror and confusion that prevail in a country that is the seat of it. A few years ago there was a civil war in France. A civil war is that which is carried on in any country, where a difference of opinion among the inhabitants induces them to settle their dispute by arms. Some of the French chose to establish a republic, others resolved that the country should continue to be governed by its king. The republican party fought the royalists, defeated and pursued them. From these unhappy fugitives I will select one family, because you will have a more distinct idea of the scene, than if your attention is divided amongst a confused crowd.

Harry. You are very kind, dear mamma. I should very much like to hear a French story.

Mrs. B.-Madame de Lescure, the wife of one of the brave Vendean generals, uncertain of the fate of her husband, who had received a dreadful wound in the late engagement, had passed a most agitating day. Flying on horse-back from the approaching enemy, she was for some time obliged to carry her infant daughter in her arms. Bewildered in the cross-roads of a country with which they were unacquainted, the fugitives on the approach of night found themselves near a village distant only a few miles from the Loire. Here, with her mother, her aunt, and her poor infant, Madame de Lescure was glad to throw herself on a bed, in a room almost filled with soldiers.

nothing, compared with the agony that she suffered from her entire ignorance of the fate of her husband.

Harry-Poor thing, she was in a dreadful situation! but I wish you would go on with the story. When did this affair happen, dear mamma ?

Mrs. B. About the middle of October 1792. Exhausted with the fatigue and anxiety of the day, the poor wanderers fell asleep. At three o'clock in the morning they were awakened by the roar of cannon, which resounded from hill to hill along the Loire. They arose to attend mass, (for so the service of the Roman Catholic Church is called) which was to be performed in the night, because, in their present circumstances time was precious, and many wished to rejoin the army. The church was full; the priest, a venerable man, exhorted the soldiers in the most affecting manner, to advance courageously in defence of their king, their wives, and their children, whom the enemy were massacring. The roar of cannon was heard at intervals, during this discourse. The noise, the darkness, their unhappy situation, the uncertainty they felt respecting the fate of the army, and that of their dearest friends, made a gloomy and fearful impression on every mind.

After mass, the good old priest, who had been informed that M. de Lescure was dead, endeavoured to prepare the mind of his unhappy wife to support such a misfortune. He spoke to her of the duty of resignation: his voice, his manner, appeared to her prophetic of some terrible calamity. Benumbed with fear, she gazed at him, scarcely knowing what to believe. In the meantime, the discharges of artillery became louder and more frequent, and seemed approaching: it was necessary to quit the church. Almost fainting, this unhappy lady was assisted to mount a horse, and obliged to continue her flight, without knowing where she could hope for refuge.

Hearing that her husband was at Chaudron, and that he was wounded, she hastened thither. Alas! what a sorrowful spectacle awaited her! The forehead of M. de Lescure had been shattered by a ball, which struck him near the left eye-brow, and passed behind his ear: his countenance was dreadfully swollen and disfigured, and he was scarcely able to speak. But though reduced to so deplorable a state, he received some comfort from the arrival of his wife, on whose account he had suffered the greatest anxiety, imagining that she had fallen into the hands of the republicans.

Harry. And suppose she had? they could have no motive to injure her, for she could do them no harm, poor thing!

Mrs. B.-Alas! my dear Harry, in the dreadful confusion which follows a battle, both women and children are often great sufferers. We have no adequate conception of such horrors in England; and long may Providence, in its mercy, preserve us from them!

Lucy-And other countries too, I hope. Oh, mamma! I did not think that war had been so dreadful.

Mrs. B.-The Vendean Generals resolved to make yet one more attempt against the republicans, and led their brave countrymen to the charge. At first they were successful; but the enemy received a fresh supply of troops, the royalists were routed in their turn, and at length completely defeated. No hope remained for the fugitives, unless they could accomplish the passage of the Loire. The Bretons, who inhabited the country to the north of that river, invited the unhappy Vendeans to take refuge amongst them, and sent some boats to convey them over. During the whole of that miserable night, the fugitives arrived in crowds at St. Florent: among the rest were M. de Lescure and his family. The wounded general was carried in a bed with every possible care, for his

virtues and his courage had gained general esteem; but with every precaution that could be taken, the motion of travelling occasioned intolerable pain. His afflicted wife journeyed beside him, and early in the morning they gained the heights of St. Florent, which form a kind of semicircular enclosure. From the bottom of these hills a vast flat extends to the margin of the Loire, which in that place is very broad. Eighty thousand persons were crowding into this valley. Soldiers, women, children, old people, were all hurrying along in a confused mass, flying from slaughter and conflagration; behind them they perceived the rising smoke of villages, which the republicans had set on fire. No voice was heard but that of lamentation. In this confused crowd, each person was seeking parents, friends, or protectors. Ignorant of the fate which awaited them on the opposite shore, they eagerly desired to pass the river, as if on the other side they were to find an end to all their sorrows. About twenty wretched boats carried over, in turn, the fugitives who pressed into them. Others endeavoured to cross on horseback: all extended their arms towards those on the other bank, to implore assistance. On the opposite shore was seen another multitude, whose distant and hollow murmur was more faintly heard. In the middle of the stream was a small island, covered with people. Never will that spectacle be effaced from the memory of the unfortunate Vendeans! Many of them compared that disorder, that despair, that uncertainty of the future, that bewildered crowd, that valley, that river which must be passed, to the ideas which we sometimes form of the awful day of the last judgment.

Lucy.—Oh, mamma, this scene is a great deal too terrible! What became of the poor lady and her husband and little girl?

Mrs. B..-M. de Lescure died of his wounds, in the beginning of No

vember, leaving his wife overwhelmed with affliction.

But I have told you enough of this melancholy tale. You have heard some of the dangers and miseries which accompany war. I will now relate a story of some people who resolved that they would have nothing to do with war or its horrors; and then you may consider which plan is likely to make men happiest.

(To be continued.)

Copy of a Letter from a Gentleman in Paris, who is connected with the Peace Society in this Country, to his friend in London.

Paris, Aug. 8 1821. MY DEAR FRIEND,-I have been so exceedingly occupied, that I have not been able to give the Peace Society

the details I could have wished.

I have been however actively employed. I am glad to say that the principal literary publication here, the Revue Encyclopedique, has taken up the subject, and will give a long

article in their next Number.

The new Society* here met about ten days ago; I attended their meeting, and assured them of our cordial co-operation as far as their plan and objects accorded with ours. The promise of co-operation was accepted and repeated. I engaged that they should be furnished from time to time with details of our proceedings, and they assured me that they would constantly send us a procès verbal of theirs. I hope this matter is now perfectly in order, and that our union, thus begun, will be perfected, and made availing for the great objects

in view.

I have given Toreno (Count) a Set of our Tracts, and have already distributed pretty extensively those I brought with me.

I have written to M. Liotard, of Amsterdam, who some time ago

*Alluding to the Society whose Prospectus appears in our present Number.

wrote to the Peace Society. I have sent a number of our Tracts to the North of Italy.

M. Mosena, in his second Petition, speaks of the Peace Society in strong terms of approbation.

[The following Letter from the London Peace Society has been translated into several of the European languages, and both at home and abroad will obtain, we hope, extensive circulation. May it excite that lively interest, and be attended subject truly merits.] with that vigorous operation, which the

London, 3 Great Knight-Rider Street,
Doctors' Commons.

SIR,-The Society for the Promotion of Permanent and Universal

Peace desiring to avail themselves of that period of tranquillity which has at last dawned upon the Nations of Europe, take the liberty of addressing you, to entreat your co-operation in the dissemination of their principles, by the circulation of their Tracts, and by exciting as extensively as possible the attention of the religious world to the all-important question, Whether the Christian religion, in its spirit and its letter, is not wholly opposed to the practice of

War?

to any nation or clime Will you give them the encouragement of your correspondence, and of your counsels; so that no effort may be lost--no attempt be untried, which may promise to encourage the circulation of this distinguishing characteristic of the religion of Jesus?

On their behalf I invite you to co-operate, and remain, &c.

(Signed by the Foreign, or Home Secretary.)

Review of a Sermon, on the Doctrine and Spirit of Christianity, preached at York Street Chapel, Walworth, 21 Jan. 1821, by the Rev. GEORGE CLAYTON,

PAINFUL as the reflection is, we find it impossible to stifle the conviction, that much of the vindictive and re

vengeful spirit from which private quarrels and national animosities have arisen, is owing to an unintentional neglect on the part of Christian Ministers, in propagating, with reiterated and affectionate zeal, the humble, self-denying, and peaceful spirit of the Gospel. They have either been not sufficiently aware of its importance, or possessed with too humiliating an idea of the beneficial efficacy which, with the blessing of God, their labours in this respect were calculated to produce. Yet its peculiar importance forms a most prominent subject of our Saviour's addresses to his disciples; and it seems absolutely impossible that any minister, whose mind is familiar with the 13th chapter of the 1st book of Corinthians, can be satisfied without making the spirit of Christian love a very frequent and forcible theme of address to his people.

But we are persuaded, both as it regards ministers and people, (with out referring to any particular sect) that the lovely dispositions of Christianity are gaining ground, and that the imperative necessity of propagating and encouraging these dispositions in others is more powerfully

felt. It is with unfeigned delight that we hail any public demonstration of this fact. Two recent publications, on the genuine spirit of Christianity, have been sent to us. One is entitled "The Kingdom of GOD on Earth," by the Rev. John Whitehouse, rector of Orlingbury, Northamptonshire, -The other is a Sermon by the Rev. George Clayton, on " the Doctrine and Spirit of Christianity, in reference to the Retaliation of Injuries." Both admirable for the spirit which they breathe, and both intimately connected with the subject of Peace. The former, which embraces a wider field, we must reserve to our next Number. To the latter we request the attention of our readers at the present time.

The following is the text which Mr. Clayton has selected, and the striking exordium he has employed to introduce the subject to the notice of his hearers, and the public :—

Luke vi. 27, & 28. But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies, do good to them which hate you, bless them that curse you, and pray for them that despitefully use you.' Christianity, even where it is most publicly and extensively professed, is but partially understood, and imperfectly exemplified. Looking at the great mass of what is called the religious world, and marking the spirit they breathe, and the passions they indulge, who would suppose that they had read, even with a cursory attention, the precepts of the New Testament, or sat in submissive silence, even for an hour, at the feet of Jesus of Nazareth? When we contemplate the delineation of his divine religion, as presented to us in the inspired page, and then turn to the living manners of those who avow themselves its professors, we are ready to exclaim with one of the Fathers," either this is not Christianity, or we are no Christians!" Such are the reflections which have forced themselves upon the mind, in reading the language of the text.