תמונות בעמוד
PDF
ePub

wild and grand in the consciousness of accepted death, offered himself to every blow in this combat. He had his fifth horse killed under him here. Bathed in perspiration, with a flame in his eye, and foam on his lips, his uniform unbuttoned, one of his his epaulettes half cut through by the sabre cut of a horseguard and his decoration of the great eagle dinted by a bullet, bleeding, muddy, magnificent, and holding a broken sword in his hand, he shouted, "Come and see how a marshal of France dies on the battlefield!" But it was in vain, he did not die. He was haggard and indignant, and hurled at Drouet D'Erlon the question, "Are you not going to get yourself killed?" yelled amid the roar of all this artillery, crushing a handful of men, "O, there is nothing for me! I should like all these English cannon balls to enter my chest!" You were reserved for French bullets, unfortunate man.

THE CATASTROPHE.

He

Ney

The rout of the rear of the guard was mournful; the army suddenly the army suddenly gave way on all sides simultaneously, at Hougomont, La Haye Sainte, Papelotte, and Planceroit. The cry of "treachery" was followed by that of **Sauve qui peut!" An army which disbands is like a thaw-all gives way, cracks floats, rolls, falls, comes into collision, and dashes forward. borrows a horse, leaps on it, and without hat, stock, or sword, dashes across the Brussels road, stopping at once English and French. He tries to hold back the army, he recalls it, he insults it, he clings wildly to the rout to hold it back. The soldiers fly from him, shouting, "Long live Marshal Ney!" Two regiments of Durutte's move forward and backward in terror, and as it were tossed between the sabres of the hussars and the musketry fire of Kempt's, Best's, and Peck's brigades. A rout is the highest of all confusions, for friends kill each other in order to escape, and squadrons and battalions dash against and destroy each other. Lobau at one extremity, and Reille at the other, are carried away by the torrent. In vain does Napoleon build a wall of

what is left of the Guard; in vain does he expend his own special squadrons in a final effort. Quiot retires before Vivian, Kellerman before Vandeleur, Lobau before Bulow, Moraud before Pirch, and Domor and Subervie before Prince William of Prussia. Guyot, who led the Emperor's squadrons to the charge, falls beneath the horses of English dragoons. Napoleon gallops along the line of fugitives, harangues, urges, threatens, and implores them; all the mouths that shouted "Long live the Emperor" in the morning remained wide open; they hardly knew him. The Prussian cavalry, who had come up fresh, dash forward, cut down, kill and exerminate. The artillery horses dash forward with the guns; the train soldiers unharness the horses from the caissons and escape on them; wagons overthrown and with their four wheels in the air, block up the road and supply opportunity for massacre. Men crush each other and trample over the dead and over the living. A multitude wild with terror fill the roads, the paths, the bridges, the plains, the hills, the valleys, and the woods, which are thronged by this flight of forty thousand men. Cries, desperation; knapsacks and muskets cast into the wheat; passages cut with the edge of the sabres; no comrades, no officers, no generals recognized-and indescribable terror. Ziethen sabring France at his ease. The lions become kids. Such was this flight. Genappe, an effort was made to turn and rally; Lobau collected three hundred men; the entrance of the village was barricaded, but at the first round of Prussian canister all began flying again, and Lobau was made prisoner. This shot may still be seen, buried in the gable of an old brick house on the right of the road, just before you reach Genappe. The Prussians dashed into Genappe, doubtless furious at being such small victors, and the pursuit was monstrous, for Blucher commanded extermination. Roguet had given the mournful example of threatening with death any French Grenadier who brought in a Prussian prisoner, and Blucher surpassed Roguet. Duchesme, general

At

of the young guard, who was pursued in the doorway of an inn in Genappe, surrendered his sword to an Hussar of death, who took the sword and killed the prisoner. The victory was completed by the assassination of the vanquished. Let us punish as we are writing history, old Blucher dishonored himself. This ferocity set the seal on the disaster; the desperate rout passed through Genappe, passed through Quatre Bras, passed through Sombreffe, passed through Thuin, passed through Charleroi, and only stopped at the frontier. Alas! and

who was it flying in this way? The Grand Army. Did this vertigo, this terror, this overthrow of the greatest bravery that ever astonished history, take place without a cause? No. The shadow of a mighty right hand is cast over Waterloo; it is the day of destiny, and the force which is above man produced that day. Hence the terror, hence all those great souls laying down their swords. Those who

had conquered Europe, fell crushed, having nothing more to say or do, and feeling a terrible presence in the shadow. Hoc erat in fatis. On that day, the perspective of the human race was changed, and Waterloo is the hinge of the nineteenth century. The disappearance of the great man was necessary for the advent of the great age, and He who cannot be answered undertook the task. The panic of the heroes admits of explanation; in the battle of Waterloo there is more than a storm; there is a meteor. At nightfall, Bernard and Bertrand seized by the skirt of his coat, in a field near Genappe, a haggard, thoughtful, gloomy man, who, carried so far by the current of the rout, had just dismounted, passed the bridle over his arm, and was now, with wandering eye, returning alone to Waterloo. It was Napoleon, the immense somnambulist of the shattered dream, still striving to advance.

A

TO THE YOUNG.

BY SR. ALMIRA.

LONE with the Father in the closet, or in a place secreted from the gaze of mortal, looking to him for words of encouragement for our inexperienced writers.

We are well aware that many of our eminent writers have completed their work and passed over, and others are nearing the end of the journey. They are glad. and we are glad, that so many of the young have ambition enough to take hold of the work, and we hope that their aspirations after the pure and the good, will be so fully developed that their words will be a power that will lift up many out of sin into purity.

How beautiful, how encouraging is the thought that God is no respecter of persons, but he who fears him and works rightly is accepted of him. 'Tis not the learned or the rich particularly, but all who work righteousness, or according to the teaching of Jesus, that can have a realization of

his presence. One must study, rea

son, and meditate in order to have his manuscript well prepared, and in order to have the ideas come up to the true standard, he must read that which is good and pure, and besides must be guided by the Author of every good and perfect thought.

When one is writing an article it may seem to be very imperfect, or perhaps almost worthless in the opinion of the writer, but when it returns in print he may be surprised, can hardly believe that it is his own thoughts, and yet there may be imperfections which were not noticed before it was sent. If so, strive to improve the next time, just as one must do in all affairs of life, just as all successful writers have done, and just as all will be obliged to do to be successful in future.

I have never met one of those whose names I have seen as writers in our late periodicals. but have exchanged letters with the wish that I could have a few words from them and others.

We are getting acquainted with one another though, in a manner, by reading one another's ideas. Yours are beautiful to me, and give me encouragement on my pilgrimage, and if the thoughts that have been given me are of worth to you, then I shall not have lived altogether in vain.

Writing is a good pastime and it is very profitable too, even if one does not receive money for it, if pure, uplifting thoughts are used.

Our thoughts make us what we are. That which cometh out of the mouth is a specimen of the contents of the mind, whether pure or impure. Pure words, whether spoken or written, will exert a pure influence over both

giver and receiver. So in like manner will evil ideas exert an evil influence over both, and how long will that influence last? Who is able to answer? We are glad our writers use facts, good points and true principles for their material. All our works will be tried so as by fire. Fiction must be consumed, and truth will remain as truth infallible. I, for one, would rather write truth for the world, free of charge, than to write fiction, at the exorbitant prices of the day.

Dear brothers and sisters, let us continue to write that which we shall not fear to meet in the day of reckoning.

TWILIGHT MUSINGS.

ELDER A. T. BRADSHAW.

While musing in the twilight, on a glorious

summer eve,

Around a peaceful calm had fallen, nature

scarcely seem'd to breathe;

The red kine in the meadows moved lazily along,

And the nightingale so plaintively trilled forth her evening song;

A mist hung o'er the summit of some far distant hill,

And adown and through the valley murmured soft a limpid rill;

The sun below the horizon had sunken in the

west,

Behind; a purple tinted grandeur seemed to

follow him to rest;

And as darkness grew around me, and the stars bedecked the sky,

A mystic spell came o'er me, as my eyes were raised on high;

My heart was moved within me, and my soul was stirred with bliss,

Pæans of praise and adoration burst from out my trembling lips;

And lifted far above the turmoil of the struggle and the strife,

Methought how great a blessing is the gracious gift of life:

How lovingly the "All Father" had created all things good,

Trees and flowers to glad the senses, and golden grain for food;

LONDON, England.

But amidst the song of gladness with which my being thrilled,

Came a minor chord of sadness, for a moment praise was stilled;

And I mused upon the sorrow, the suffering, and the pain,

The hungry and the naked, and the lustful greed of gain;

The "rich man" in his purple, and the "beggar" with his sores,

I marveled why this all should be, and then there came a pause;

When a mild voice seemed to whisper, oh! so gently in mine ear,

"The Archenemy among the wheat has sown many, full many a tare;

But a time is surely coming when all tares shall be destroyed,

Banished every care and sorrow, every tearful eye be dried;

When mens' hearts shall never more fail in them for fear,

It is coming, surely coming, 'millennium's dawn' is near:"

Then again burst forth my praises in a loud and jubilant song,

To him who rules, in justice, and righteth

every wrong;

To him the great "All Father" who doeth all things well,

Who is coming, yea is coming, with his saints on earth to dwell.

N

PRAYER.

BY MISS PEARL PRICE.

O duty, no religious exercise, occupies a larger or more prominent place in the Christian system than prayer.

The New Testament Scriptures throughout abound with precepts, examples, forms, promises, and encouragements in regard to the obligation and benefit of (thus) devoutly addressing the Father of Mercies. Indeed this Sacred Volume may be regarded as the Common Prayer Book" of the human family. It teaches us both how to pray and what to pray for; and assures us in the most express terms and emphatic manner of the efficacy of prayer, as a means of obtaining blessings from God of both a temporal and spiritual nature. The broad commands and unqualified promises given are, "Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." And to convince us of God's loving readiness to hear and answer the prayers of his earthly offspring, he appeals to and reasons from the tenderest and strongest affection of the human heart-parental love.

"If

a son ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or, if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? or, if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion? If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give good things to them that ask him?" And in harmony with all this it is added that, "Men ought always to pray and not to faint," seeing "the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon him."

and

As upon the safety of the acorn sprout depends the growth. strength and value of the future oak, so upon the early safety of the little Plymouth colony depended the springing up of the great Tree of American Liberty: and, we may say, the existence of the vast and happy nation which spans this continent to-day. And we may reasonably suppose that if the great God interests himself in

any of the affairs of this world, he has been interested in the formation, character, and destiny of such a nation as this. Now in an early day-the spring of 1623-our Pilgrim Fathers, finding that supplies from the old country could no longer be depended upon, set themselves to plant more corn than they had ever done before; but by the time they had done planting, their stock of food was spent. They daily prayed, "Give us this day our daily bread," and in one way or another their wants continued to be supplied. In the month of June, their hopes of a harvest were nearly blasted by a drought, which withered up the corn, and made the grass look like hay. All expected to perish with hunger. In their distress, these godly people set apart a day for humiliation and prayer, and continued their worship for eight or nine hours. "God," says the historian. "heard their prayers, and answered them in a way which excited universal admiration." Although the morning of that day was clear, and the weather very hot and dry during the whole forenoon, yet presently clouds were seen to form and extend in every direction, and before night it began to rain, and refreshing showers continued to fall for many days, so that the ground became thoroughly soaked, and the drooping corn revived.

The learned Dr. Dwight, president of Yale College, referring to this, and similar events in the early history of this country, says: "I am bound, as an inhabitant of New England, solemnly to declare, that, were there no other instances to be found in any other country, the blessings communicated to this would furnish ample satisfaction that God answers prayer, to every sober, much more to every pious man."

Among the favors for which the New Testament Scriptures specially warrant and encourage us to pray is the recovery or relief of the sick. Is any among you afflicted? let him pray," says the Apostle James. And

again, "Is any sick among you? let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray for him, and the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up." Prayer is ever alike our duty and our privilege; but there is no place where it is more appropriate or needful than by the bedside of the sick. When health has fled; when strength has failed; when vain has become the help of man; when death approaches; to whom can we look for succor but to Almighty God? Nature itself, in such circumstances, both teaches and prompts us to call upon him. And

the prayers then offered have brought relief and inspired hope a thousand and a thousand times when every earthly source had failed. There is, indeed, real and availing comfort to the helpless sufferer in pouring his complaints into the ear of the Father of Mercies. The last resource, the last hope of afflicted millions, would be taken away, if men were denied access to the throne of grace. And yet, heartless and unnatural as it is, the attempt is made by materialists to strike even this last plank from under the sinking sufferer. They would sever the connection of the human spirit with its God, and leave it a helpless, bewildered, and cheerless wanderer amid the workings of cold and inexorable laws, with no Comforter in the time of trouble, no Helper to whom the fainting heart could turn, no Hope to which the sinking soul could cling.

Death is a solemn and important event in man's history. It is the moment of destiny, the seal of eternity, the cessation of probation, the commencement of retribution. To every sense it is appalling-to everything but faith overwhelming. This, and this only, can change its aspect, extract its sting, or soften its stroke;

and this can. Yes, Christian Faith can give the soul a joyful and illustrious triumph over death.

Faith in the "Blood of Atonement" brings home to the soul a sense of pardon, and an experience of peace with God. Faith discovers to the Christian that death to him has lost its sting, and the grave been despoiled of its boasted victory. Faith brings assurance that our Father in heaven concerns himself to determine the time and place, the means and manner of death to every believer; and the thought that infinite wisdom and infinite love have been engaged in arranging all these, is full of precious. and unspeakable comfort. Faith holds sweet and hallowed communion with a living present Savior, and reveals amid celestial splendors the bright and holy mansions he has made ready for his ransomed people; and, when the soul is liberated from the earthly house of this tabernacle, Faith brings cherub guards from glory to conduct it in joyous triumph to the mansion prepared for its future home.

What scenes, transcending all that poetry can describe or that fiction can imagine, are to be witnessed in the chambers of dying saints! How often has it seemed as if the veil were drawn aside, and the scenes of the celestial world were actually visible to the eye of sense, piercing through the veil of mortality, and roaming abroad amidst the realms of celestial glory. Hence it is that we so often hear that triumphant exclamation, "O Death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" But thanks be to God who giveth giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

"O Thou, by whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way,
The path of prayer thyself hast trod,
Lord, teach us how to pray."

Scorn not to do the humblest thing,
If by that act thy soul may rise;
Each moment bears upon its wing
A treasure; catch it as it flies.
Scorn not to work with willing hand
To make another's burden light;

ADVICE.

By this thy soul shall grow more grand
To spurn the wrong and speed the right.
Adorn thy life with noble deeds;

Let truth and love thy watchword be,
And sow with careful hand the seeds
That ripen for eternity.

« הקודםהמשך »