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his imagination to reunite the different portions of the ethereal frame. But Milton has really painted this scene, though the artillery of Cromwell and his Ironsides, from which he drew his description, were popguns compared to the ordnance which is concentrated for the attack and defence of Sebastopol.

These profound disquisitions suggest the inquiry, What has become of all the infernal machines, subterranean devils, long ranges, and "boulets asphyxiants," which were to destroy human life wholesale? Surely we may assume that modern science has brought all her appliances to bear on the present siege, yet we have nothing absolutely new, no novel principle has been applied to one useful purpose of destruction; all we have to show is an increase in degree, by simple multiplication of, or addition to, the size of the engines which we used in the Peninsula. I suppose the truth is that war, being in reality the favourite science of the human race, has nearly attained perfection, and that future progress is only to be looked for in the way of exaggeration. We have, since the last war, progressed from 32-pounders to 64-pounders; the next war will find us with monster 100-pounders, and a range of eight miles, so that battles may be carried on out of sight, and the guns directed by latitude and longitude. But so long as there are Highlanders in the world, we know something more effective than the heaviest ordnance and the longest range. Give me any weapon to poke with or strike-a bayonet, a pike, or a claymoreand let me put them in the hands of the lovers of the bagpipe, and the Highland bonnets will soon be seen clustering up the redoubts where are posted the long-range guns, and then, and but for a moment, hand-tohand, and the troops of any nation will vanish like the smoke of the gun they try to defend.

October 17.*

We had been informed last night that our batteries would begin early this morning, so we were up before four o'clock to see the ball opened. It was pitch dark, illuminated only by a stray shell or rocket from Sebastopol. All along the lines we could already hear the stir of the troops, but except in our immediate vicinity we saw no one. An hour or two passed slowly and uncomfortably in the damp, festering autumn morning, but about five the fog began to take off from the English line, lifting up like a mighty curtain, and revealed their trenches full of men, with the batteries, some already unmasked, and others rapidly clearing out. Sebastopol also was beginning to show, and in advance of the town we could see the same operations by the Russians as by the English. They, too, had been preparing pleasant surprises, and as battery after battery of their extensive earthworks were unmasked, we began to discover that we had two Sebastopols to overcome, a mud one and a stone one, and that the first was fully as strong in appearance as the mud batteries with which we and our allies hoped to destroy both. Right in front of the centre of the French lines was a hill, on which we now found were posted forty heavy cannon, commanding our line very uncomfortably, while we seemed enfiladed by another battery on the enemy's extreme right. In fact, we were taken by surprise, but, nothing daunted, our gunners stood to their pieces. We had not long to wait; a solitary rocket ascended star-like from the English lines, three shots were fired from our batteries, and then immediately the earth shook with the simultaneous discharge of the whole allied artillery. The enemy returned the discharge with, if possible, a

louder reverberation, and for the space of ten minutes the hell music went on without one moment's cessation, deafening, and stunning, and filling the air with so thick a cloud of smoke that it looked as if it could be cut into slices. Above the bellowing thunder was heard other noises, clear and sharp like the shriek of a sea-bird; the formidable Lancaster guns sent out their missiles at deliberate intervals of time, while the whirr of the shells and balls, like the rising of a thousand partridges, gave variety to the concert. This went on till eight o'clock, the shot and shells falling all around us, not without effect both on batteries and men. Luckily the shells mostly burst in the air, but the balls were playing at ninepins with our ten-pounders, knocking them out of their embrasures, aud occasionally mowing down the gunners.

It was pretty evident we were over-matched. Our men already were beginning to hang back, the superior pluck of the officers was coming into requisition, and my friend the colonel was pushing forward to the front, when suddenly we were beat to the ground, and, rolling over our head, a whirlwind of noise absolutely striking us with sound. Confused, stupified, I slowly rose with the sensation of having got a severe blow on the head. All around me the ground was strewed with prostrate men, most of them, however, merely stunned, and, like myself, beginning to recover. I saw the colonel rise and pass his hand for a moment in a bewildered manner over his eyebrows, but he was soon himself again, and, shaking himself like a dog newly out of water, he coolly gazed around, as if trying to make out what had happened by his own observation without incurring the trouble of asking. It was one of those moments which brought out the rare courage of the man, for there he was as cool and collected as at the whist-table, only there was a slight compression of his stern lip, and a proud look in his grey eye.

We were not long in making out the nature of the catastrophe: a large powder magazine had exploded. Upwards of forty men near it had been thrown up in the air, and descended to the earth so many blackened corpses, while we who formed an outer circle had been smitten to the ground to a radius of forty yards from the centre of the concussion. Serious injury had been also done to our works, and one of our batteries ceased firing altogether, whereupon the Russians, with a loud cheer, increased their fire, throwing on our weakened lines double the number of shot which they had sent at first. The men in vain stood to their guns; they were cut down, and the guns knocked over; and finally, after much useless perseverance, our whole line was silenced, and, by the order of the general, the men withdrew within the trenches.

The Russians continued their fire for four minutes after our batteries had been silenced, and then suddenly ceased, and we had all leisure to view the fight in other directions. The English batteries were volleying shot without intermission, and we could see the parabolas of their projectiles in the air. Whirling round on its axis would go a shell with its burning fusee, then whizz, whizz! would follow a shot from the Lancaster, while the balls from the other guns pursued a uniform and noiseless tract. Nor were the Russians slow in returning; on the contrary, their fire evidently increased, till it seemed the combat would depend on who had most powder.

Meantime, as if to usher in the noblest feature of the day, a sharp breeze got up, and the smoke flew in convolute eddies towards the sea;

and, bearing through the rolling cloud, were seen the masts and funnel of a screw line-of-battle ship, steadily forcing its way in without firing a shot. It was the Montebello, of 120 guns. Slowly it advanced, and as the tricolor flag waved in the breeze our men cheered. This attracted the attention of the Russians to us, and a cloud of balls ploughed into our abandoned lines; another powder magazine was hit, and the explosion again struck terror into our men, lifting up the neighbouring earthwork of the battery, and heaving off the guns as if they had been plates on a table. Hardly was the smoke blown away when we saw eight more French liners dash up to the forts. Nothing could be more opportune. The attack, no doubt, had been preconcerted, but coming immediately after our disaster, it seemed as if an electric sympathy had conveyed the knowledge of our danger to our French brethren of the fleet. Not long did they hesitate. A noise which even at that distance seemed to be louder than any we had yet heard, a bright flash of fire like a horizontal streak of lightning, and in ceaseless succession broadside on broadside was poured in on the forts at a range of seven or eight hundred yards. Equally energetic was the fire of the Russians, and soon, notwithstanding the breeze, the whole space betwixt them was a dense black fog, only broken by the horizontal lightning of the broadsides and the more irregular, but not less rapid, flashes from the forts, while here and there, out of the lurid blackness, was seen the tricolor of France or the masts of the vessels, by turns revealed or obscured.

Now for the first time was seen a fair duel between granite and wood, and no favour on either side, four thousand pieces of the heaviest ordnance discharging simultaneously, while the English batteries continued in full play. Conceive ten of our principal railways, with heavy express trains rushing out of small tunnels, and quickly converging towards one another, the engines shrieking with terror at the approaching collision, and some idea may be formed of the noise and of the scene. Presently a tremendous explosion took place on the land side of Sebastopol, and, for the first time, the Russian fire began to slacken.

The

This was about four o'clock, and the smoke began to clear away a little, so that we could see somewhat better the fight between the ships and the forts. The forts presented three tiers of guns, and we could see through our glasses that the upper tier was nearly silenced, and considerably injured, but the two lower ones fired as briskly as ever. smoky curtain again descended, and the battle continued till eight o'clock, ships and forts still sticking to one another, and the batteries still firing. Then, as if by common consent, the fire slackened, and before night had fairly set in, it had ceased, except occasionally between the English and Russian batteries. The ships had retired not much the better from the stern parley of the forts, who seemed to have proved that stone was stronger than wood.

Nine P.M.-I have just ceased scrawling the above. Our men are labouring repairing their works, with a view to re-establish their batteries next morning. Poor fellows! it is hard work, and the heat by day— damp autumn heat-and the dew by night, is telling on them. Fully sixty men a day are unfit for work, and the number is increasing. I am far from well myself, diarrhoea having set in; but as I need not work unless I like, I can take care of myself, and hope yet to see Sebastopol taken.

GARIBALDI.

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THE eyes of Europe have, during the past month, been fixed eagerly and hopefully on the progress of one man; politicians of all shades, from the most ultra of our Conservatives down to the most captious Liberal, agree for once in recognising in Garibaldi the hero of the hour. Twelve months ago and many were disposed to believe the glozing tales of the priests, and regard the future liberator of Italy as a brigand; now that he has been recognised by the general of an established power, terms sufficiently strong can hardly be found to sing the praises of his chivalry and generosity in the hour of victory. Admiral Munday (all honour to him for it), in a recent despatch, described in burning words the atrocities committed by the royal troops in Palermo, and offered a brilliant contrast by his remark, "The conduct of General Garibaldi, both during the hostilities and since their suspension, has been noble and generous;' but from the hour he awoke to the consciousness of his manhood, Garibaldi has never behaved otherwise. Nor can we account for the popular enthusiasm in his behalf by his successes in Sicily, for, though they are very wonderful, they are, after all, as nothing compared with the feats he achieved during his ever-memorable march from Rome upon Venice. We are disposed, therefore, to regard the present excitement about Garibaldi as arising from the circumstance that people see in his success a prospect for the settlement of the Italian embroglio, which will restore peace to the Continent, and, at the same time, prevent any further annexation tentatives on the part of the great European Marplot. That Garibaldi will succeed in overthrowing the odious tyranny of Bombino there is not a doubt, after reading his past life-history, which we purpose presenting to our readers in the ensuing pages, such as we have been enabled to compile it from the best authorities. A really authentic life of the hero is among the desiderata of the day, for there is so much of the marvellous mixed up in the narrative, that it is a matter of difficulty to draw the line. One of the best accounts of him, however, based on information supplied partly by himself and partly by his friends, was recently published from the pen of Charles Paya, and it will serve as the basis of our article.*

Giuseppe Garibaldi was born at Nice on July 4, 1807, the descendant of a family which had long devoted itself to seafaring occupations, for which the lad also evinced a decided inclination. We know but little of his school days, save that he displayed a remarkable aptitude for mathematics, and even at that early age revealed his contempt of danger by saving a party of his fellow-students, who were capsized by a sudden squall while sailing in a pleasure-boat to Villafranca. Garibaldi swam out to them, and saved their lives at imminent risk of his own. after he entered on board a merchantman trading with the Levant, and during one of his voyages put into Civita Vecchia, and paid a flying visit to Rome. The abuses he witnessed there aroused the latent spark

Soon

*We may also refer our readers to an excellent work by Mr. Dwight, published by Sampson Low and Co., founded on Garibaldi's own manuscript. Unfortunately it only comes down to the end of his South American exodus.

July-VOL. CXIX. NO. CCCCLXXV.

2 B

of patriotism, there can be no doubt, but it was not till the age of twenty-six that his political sentiments began to exercise a material influence over his fortunes.

The accession of Charles Albert to the throne of Piedmont in 1831 excited the hopes of the patriot party, led by Mazzini, for, as Prince of Carignano, the new king had been a liberal, if not something more. The conspiracy was detected, and Garibaldi, who appears to have been mixed up in it to some extent, started again for the East. While his vessel was lying at Taganrog, he met with a young Italian, who was initiated in the designs of Giovane Italia, and Garibaldi became a conspirator. On his return to Piedmont, he joined in Mazzini's abortive descent on Savoy in 1834, and had to fly again, this time to bid a long farewell to his fatherland. Disguised as a peasant, he made his way to Marseilles, and obtained employment as captain of a French vessel trading with the Levant.

But the young man soon grew wearied of such a peaceful life; and we next find him sailing in an Egyptian corvette to offer his services to the Bey of Tunis. He was, however, soon disgusted with the supineness which is the rule in all Eastern establishments, and he resigned his.command. In 1836 he resolved on seeking his fortunes in the New World, and proceeded to South America, where a brilliant, though painful, career was awaiting him. With the aid of his compatriots he purchased a small coaster, in which he traded between Rio and Cabo Frio; and letters written by him at the time prove the despondency to which he fell a prey. The next year, however, a republican movement broke out in the province of Rio Grande, and Garibaldi was invited to join. He eagerly assented; his small vessel was secretly equipped for fighting, and no sooner out of port than the republican flag was hoisted.

After capturing several Brazilian vessels of considerable tonnage, Garibaldi cast anchor beneath the walls of Monte Video, having been persuaded that the city was favourable to the republican movement. He was speedily undeceived: a gun-boat attacked his vessel, and Garibaldi himself received a bullet under the ear, which stretched him apparently lifeless upon the deck. His terrified companions hoisted all sail, and steered for Gualegay, where the vessel was seized, and all cast into prison. Fortunately for our hero, he was allowed to leave prison on parole, and the generous attentions of the Spanish family with whom he resided restored him to his old vigour. Presently, however, he learned that the authorities were about to break their promise to him, and throw him into close confinement, and thinking that this relieved him from his pledge, he escaped by night from Gualegay. After wandering about the country for two days without food and shelter, Garibaldi was tracked and led back to Gualegay, when the commandant suspended him by the hands for two hours, and to the present day he suffers terribly from the injury. After some months' further imprisonment he was set at liberty, without any trial, and returned to Rio Grande, where he was received with open arms. He was at once appointed admiral of the republican navy, which consisted of only two or three wretched coasters, armed with guns of light calibre. At the same time commenced Garibaldi's marvellous exploits on land. Attacked at Camacuan by one hundred and twenty of the enemy, he cut his way through at the head

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