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The feelings of O'Hara, as he gazed on the surrounding objects, were indescribable. The trenches, on the bank of which he stood, were filled with dead and wounded republicans ; people of similar manners, speaking the same language, and closely related by descent, could not, in this scene of destruction, be re. garded without a lively sympathy. Those of the Americans who had fallen at any distance were scarcely to be discovered from the earth in which they rested. Nothing on these selftaught soldiers was intended to strike the eye. Their blue dresses and dark rifles were with out ornament. All was plain, but all was effective. Far differently appeared the British Grenadiers. Arrayed in uniforms profusely decorated, burthened with showy and useless accoutrements, with polished arms, belts, and breast-plates ; all too well calculated to bestow a melancholy distinction on the wearer, and make him a more marked object for the rifleman.

O'Hara sickened as he looked down the hill. It was, indeed, a melancholy sight. Heaps of corses lay as if regularly strewn in

front of the breast-work, and indicated with what unflinching courage the British had advanced to the assault. The gay habiliments of the fallen officers gave to the field of death a gloomier contrast. Caps and feathers, muskets and drums, as they had dropped from the relaxing grasp of their possessors, were loosely scattered, about; while, as if to crown the horror of the whole, the light which glanced upon the scene of slaughter was reddened by the flames of Charleston. O'Hara was nearly exhausted : he had received several slight wounds which were bleeding freely. A gun, which the retreating Americans had disabled, to prevent it from being turned on their rear, was beside him, and resting against it, he endeavoured to bind up his wounds, when his attention was roused by the voice of a soldier, whose tones were familiar to his ear, entreating the assistance of a comrade. The fellow had been wounded in the fleshy part of the thigh, and was (to make use of his own term) striving to "hough out the ball.” The assistance which he had solicited was kindly, but clumsily, administered by a Scotch drum

mer, and during an awkward operation, Mahony (for it was O'Hara's servant) bore it with unmoved stoicism. “ It's out, at last, sweet Jasus be praised,” exclaimed the attendant, “and may be I won't be easier with it in my pocket than if it was in my leg, if I felt as sore since Doctor Maginty (the devil's luck to him !) pulled out the wrong tooth instead of the right one. God bless you, Sandy dear,but you done it neatly. Ogh, Captain, the blood's runnin down your jacket : take a drop, it's only wine, for you know I am booked agin spirits till Lammas, barrin what's given me out of your own hand, or Serjeant Grady’s ; and if I never drink till the Serjeant gives it to me, well as I liked him, by my soul, I would not like to see him now that he's dead, for he's kilt out and out."

“ Poor fellow," said O'Hara, “ he was a noble soldier.”

“ And as clane a made man,” said Mahony,
as ever went into a field.”
“ Did you see him fall ?" asked the drum-

mer.

“ Fall!" echoed the grenadier, “ wasn't I beside him, man.

Serjeant,' says I, - will

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we ever get over that damnd shough?'Arrah, what will hinder us ?' says he. • Heads up, boys, and at them again.' With that, the ball hit him, and down he went. I was stopping to lift him, but he beckoned me off. · Forward,' says he,my darlings, for I'm done for: the blessings of the Almighty attend yees, and my curse and the devil's pursue the first man that shows the number of his knapsack. He strove to shout, but that was too much for him, over he went on his face, and died like a rael haro."

The eulogy on the departed Serjeant was interrupted by a heavy sigh. Mahony looked over his shoulder with great indifference, and continued

" It's the gentleman your honour jagged with the bayonet : I thought it was all over with him. Hould his head up, Sandy, and I'll give him a drop to keep the life in him.”

“ Poor boy,” said the Hibernian, as he unbuttoned a jacket, handsomely but plainly ornamented. 66 Here's a love-token hid in his breast."

The dying American seemed to apprehend the loss of the miniature, probably the portrait

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of his mistress, and made a feeble effort to retain it. His wishes were understood by the speaker.

“ Is it me take it? Oh no! you have been tenderly and genteelly reared ; and as to your keep-sake, no one shall titch it, and me by. But, hauld up,” continued he, in a tone of kind encouragement, “ they'll lift us soon, and we'll go together to the hospital. Af there's a squeeze, which I allow there will, you and I can have a shake down together. You fought hard, and the devil take them that would lave you. You got a sore prod, my jewel, but it's a comfort to know that it was a rael gentleman that gave you it.”

Warren's head rested on O'Hara's knee, and he appeared to recognise him as the officer who had wounded him. He gently took the supporting hand, and pressed it feebly to his breast. His eyelids closed, -the fingers gradually relaxed their pressure,—and a low groan, accompanied by a convulsive motion of the limbs, announced that Warren ceased to live.

This last scene was too much for the rival

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