of ammunition, almost entirely ceased on ours, yet we had received no orders to retire. In this situation, a brigade of artillery was advanced to the front, and instantly opened their fire. It was charged by the French cavalry, and we had the mortification to observe the artillerymen driven from their posts, and the guns remain in possession of the enemy. The regiment were already retiring when this unfortunate event took place ; but even destitute as we were of ammunition, I determined to make an effort to recover the guns, thus disgracefully sacrificed, at the point of the bayonet. Once more we faced the enemy, and calling on the small remains of the regiment to follow me, I led the charge, trampling, as we advanced, on the bodies of our dead and dying companions. The charge was successful. The enemy were driven back, and the guns were once more in our possession.

The Fusileer brigade was seen at that moment advancing to our support, and everything seemed to indicate a happy termination of the contest. Before the arrival, however, of this seasonable reinforcement, we were charged by the Polish lancers, who had already done so much execution

in the commencement of the action, supported by a heavy column of infantry. At this moment I received a shot in the body, but did not fall from my horse. I was immediately surrounded by the lancers, and remember receiving a dreadful sabrecut on the face, and a pistol-shot in the left arm.

I fell to the ground, and of what passed afterwards my memory gives me no intelligence.

CHAPTER VIII.

She is my essence, and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence

Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.

How like a younker or a prodigal

Cymbeline.

The skarfed bark puts from its native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind;
How like a prodigal doth she return,

With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!
Merchant of Venice.

My return to consciousness was accompanied by acute bodily suffering. I was in a tent, and the surgeon of the regiment, with one of his assistants, stood beside the pallet on which I lay. My feelings were those of a man on whom death had set his gripe. I gasped convulsively for breath, yet at every respiration was nearly suffocated by the blood which gurgled from my throat, and

obstructed the action of my lungs.

Had relief not

been administered, it was impossible I could have

survived many minutes.

Fortunately, the surgeons, in examining my body, found a small protuberance below my left shoulder, which they immediately opened; the bullet and a mass of coagulated blood issued from the wound, and the dreadful feeling of suffocation was instantly relieved. The blood which had hitherto flowed through my throat, now found another channel, and from that moment I date the full and unimpaired restoration of my senses.

The difficulty of breathing, that primary of the vital functions, had absorbed all other sense of suffering, and that removed, I awoke only to pain, of which I had hitherto been unconscious. Stimulated by their first success, and the slight hope which it held out of their skill being efficaciously exerted, the doctors proceeded to examine my other wounds more minutely than in my apparently hopeless state they had at first deemed necessary. This done, they consulted a few minutes apart; then Holford approached, and, taking my hand, thus addressed me:

"Thornton," he said, and I saw the tears rise

to his eyes as he spoke,-" you are a man of cour

age, arm yourself with it."

"You mean to tell me my wounds are mortal. Speak,-do not fear me."

"Not so. There are hopes of your recovery; and, by God's blessing, we shall have you once more among us. But an operation is necessary. You must lose your arm."

"And is this the only means of saving my life?"

He answered, in a low but decided tone of voice, pressing my hand between both of his-" In our judgment it is."

On receiving this intelligence, I at first made no answer, but closing my eyes, endeavoured to collect my energies for the scene of sufferance, through which it was necessary I should pass. To do so, was no easy task. Weakened as I was by loss of blood, my mind partook of the feebleness of my body. I was distracted and irresolute. A cold and clammy perspiration overspread my forehead, and there was fear and shrinking in my heart. At that moment I would have preferred death; but I felt, that to incur death for the mere avoidance of bodily pain, would leave an indelible