had been rent asunder, and its central fires were bursting upwards uncontrolled. The two divisions had reached the glacis just as the firing at the castle had commenced, and the flash of a single musket discharged from the covered way as a signal, showed them that the French were ready; yet no stir was heard, and darkness covered the breaches. Some hay packs were then thrown, some ladders were placed, and the forlorn hopes and storming parties of the light divisions, about five hundred in all, had descended into the ditch without opposition, when a bright flame, shooting upwards, displayed all the terrors of the scene. The ramparts, crowded with dark figures and glittering arms, were seen on the one side; and on the other, the red columns of the British, deep and broad, were coming on like streams of burning lava: it was the touch of the magician's wand, for a crash of thunder followed, and with incredible violence the storming parties were dashed to pieces by the explosion of hundreds of shells and powder barrels. For an instant the light division stood on the brink of the ditch, amazed at the terrific sight; then, with a shout that matched even the sound of the explosion, flew down the ladders, or, disdaining their aid, leaped, reckless of the depth, into the gulf below; and nearly at the same moment, amidst a blaze of musketry that dazzled the eyes, the fourth division came running in, and descended with a like fury. There were, however, only five ladders for both columns, which were close together, and a deep cut made in the bottom of the ditch, as far as the counter guard of the Trinidad, was filled with water from the inundation: into this watery snare the head of the fourth division fell; and it is said that above a hundred of the fusileers, the men of Albuera, were there smothered. Those who followed, checked not, but as if such a disaster had been expected, turned to the left, and thus came upon the face of the unfinished ravelin, which, being rough and broken, was mistaken for the breach, and instantly covered with men; yet a wide and deep chasm was still between them and the ramparts, from whence came a deadly fire wasting their ranks. Thus baffled, they also commenced a rapid discharge of musketry, and disorder ensued; for the men of the light division, whose conducting engineer had been disabled early, and whose flank was confined by an unfinished ditch intended to cut off the bastion of Santa Maria, rushed to

wards the breaches of the curtain and the Trinidad, which were indeed before them, but which the fourth division were destined to storm. Great was the confusion; for now the ravelin was quite crowded with the men of both divisions; and while some continued to fire, others jumped down and ran towards the breach; many also passed between the ravelin and the counter-guard of the Trinidad; the two divisions got mixed; and the reserves, which should have remained at the quarries, also came pouring in, until the ditch was quite filled, the rere still crowding forward, and all cheering vehemently. The enemy's shouts also were loud and terrible; and the bursting of shells and grenades, the roaring of guns from the flanks, answered by the iron howitzers from the battery of the parallel, the heavy roll and horrid explosion of the powder barrels, the whizzing flight of the blazing splinters, the loud exhortations of the officers, and the continual clatter of the muskets, made a maddening din. Now a multitude hurried up the great breach, as if driven by a whirlwind; but across the top glittered a range of sword-blades, sharp-pointed, keen-edged on both sides, and firmly fixed in ponderous beams, which were chained together, and set deep in the ruins; and for ten feet in front the ascent was covered with loose planks studded with sharp iron points, on which the feet of the foremost being set, the planks moved, and the unhappy soldiers, falling forward on the spikes, rolled down upon the ranks behind.

Then the Frenchmen, shouting at the success of their stratagem, and leaping forward, plied their shot with terrible rapidity; for every man had several muskets; and each musket, in addition to its ordinary charge, contained a small cylinder of wood stuck full of leaden slugs, which scattered like hail when they were discharged. Again the assailants rushed up the breaches, and again the sword-blades, innumerable and impassable, stopped their charge; and the hissing shells, and the thundering powder barrels exploded unceasingly. Hundreds of men had fallen, and hundreds more were dropping; but still the heroic officers called aloud for new trials, and sometimes followed by many, sometimes by a few, ascended the ruins; and so furious were the men themselves, that in one of these charges, the rere strove to push the foremost on the sword-blades, willing even to make a bridge of their writhing bodies; but the others frustrated the attempt by

dropping down; and the men fell so fast from the shot, that it was hard to know who went down voluntarily, who were stricken, and many stooped unhurt that never rose again. Vain also would it have been to break through the swordblades, for the trench and parapet behind the breach were finished, and the assailants crowded into even a narrower space than the ditch was, would still have been

separated from their enemies, and the slaughter would have continued."

We have quoted so much of this vigorous description, because nothing less would afford the reader an adequate idea of the unconquerable energy of the British soldier, nor, indeed, do justice to the brilliant powers of the gifted writer, to whom, if we have been obliged to chastise him for his politics, we are only on that account the more anxious to make the fullest acknowledgments of his merits as a most impressive narrator of the chances of war. While our brave men were thus unflinchingly enduring the horrible carnage described above, the castle was taken by Picton's division, and the fort San Vincenti by the brigade under General Walker. These successes enabled our troops to take the enemy who were defending the breaches in front and rere, and soon decided the bloody contest. The extent of the havoc may be conceived when it is stated, that our losses amounted to five thousand!

The account of this siege concludes the present volume, and brings the history down to the April of 1812. We shall anxiously look for what is to follow, as the next was the most brilliant of all Lord Wellington's peninsular campaigns. In the mean time, we take our leave of the gallant writer with feelings of respect and admiration for the ability with which he has

executed his arduous task; and only regret, that the political bias under which he unhappily labours, must, of necessity, interfere with his usefulness, and does, unquestionably, wherever it manifests itself, give a shallow, vicious, pamphleteering character to a work that should never be contemplated by its author but as a bequest to posterity. Colonel Napier wants the elevated moral feeling which would enable him to form a just estimate of the atrocity of Bonaparte in the invasion of Spain; and accordingly the lesson which the events in the Peninsula is calculated to read to guilty power, cannot be found in his pages. There the noble enthusiasm with which the efforts of the tyrant were withstood, and which is so deserving of perpetual commendation, is almost, if not altogether, overlooked and undervalued, while his work overflows with praises of the disciplined but unprincipled valour which distinguished the reckless invaders. One thing, indeed, may be learned from Colonel Napier-namely, the awful sublimity of the military power of England, when it is exerted in a righteous cause, and has for its object the deliverance of prostrate and insulted nations. Distant be the time when we may be called on for similar efforts by the voice of duty or of honour; but when it does arrive, we can have little doubt but that the call will be answered by the future men of England in a manner that may prove that they have not degenerated from the heroes by whom such a harvest of glory was reaped in Spain, by whose deeds the recollections of Cressy and Ajincourt were revived, and the national honour associated with all that is wise and generous in policy, and brilliant and magnanimous in military achievement.

THE little harbour of Saracem is suitable only for small crafts, owing chiefly to the difficulty of its entrance. There is a long, narrow island, stretching across its mouth, and leaving only a narrow stream, or gut, at each end. One of these is so shallow that it is only passable by the smallest boats, while the other admits merchantmen of about 200 tons. Such a harbour prevented Saracem becoming, under any circumstances, a place of importance. It was, however, a small and neat village, and the number of very elegant villas, on a small scale, that studded the surrounding country, showed that some persons, at least, had contrived to acquire independence by the trade of the place.

This place was more faithful to the Spanish cause than most others, perhaps those who had most influence in it were attached to the royalist party; but, at all events, it continued true to the mother country much longer than many other more important places; when, however, the independent cause was proving triumphant everywhere, and the patriot colors were flying in three-fourths of the province, those who were attached to the old regime, began to prepare for the worst, and several of them placed some public money, which happened to be there at the moment, on board a small merchant brig, with the intention of sending it to the Havannah for safety. They had taken care, long before, to send the bulk of their own property to the same place. As the patriot cause had some steady, though secret friends, in Saracem, this scheme of the royalists was made known to us, and, accordingly, the Dolphin kept cruising about the mouth of the harbour, so as to intercept and capture the brig. We used generally, during day-light, keep out at sea, so as to let the merchantmen come, without suspicion, out of the harbour; and then,

every evening, we used to run in close to the land, and lie quietly under cover of the long island that crossed the mouth of the harbour. We used often go ashore in our boats, and meet the few persons who used to make this island a place of rendezvous, to communicate to us such information as they could obtain in the villages; and some pleasant nights were spent rambling along the smooth beach, or wandering among the dense woods that covered the whole face of the island.

I remained on board, one night, when Calcraft and Seyton went, as usual, ashore, and, though I do not now recollect why I did not accompany them, yet I remember, as if it were but yesterday, that I spent the time of their absence looking at the lightning that played upon the distant mountains. The night was intensely hot, and there was a heaviness in the atmosphere that was very oppressive; the sky was not clouded to any remarkable extent, but, in the direction of the mountains, there was a very deep and boding appearance: the lightning was flaming in immense sheets, over the whole heavens, in that quarter, and the rapidity with which flash succeeded flash, lighting up every cloud, and then reflected in the smooth sea around us, was one of the most splendid and sublime sights I have ever witnessed. This species of lightning is not dangerous, it is exceedingly common in the mountain ranges of the tropics, and is often visible every night, for weeks together, it seems designed to get rid of, by discharging it, the superabundance of electric fluid, and it has the effect of making the heavy atmosphere more light and agreeable; indeed it seems necessary in the tropics, where the weight of the atmosphere is sometimes so oppressive that it is almost insupportable. It was when I was leaning over the bulwarks of the Dolphin, and looking at this beautiful sight, in a

thoughtful mood, not uncommon to me at that time, that I observed our boat pulling towards us, and in a few minutes Seyton and Calcraft were on board, and told me, in a state of high excitement, that the merchant brig had weighed anchor, and was making her way out of the harbour.

sea.

Seyton at once gave his orders, and, as in an instant, they were followed by the spirit-stirring scene usual on such occasions; every hand was engaged upon the deck, or aloft in the shrouds; away went the tackling, and the foresail and fore-topsail and mainsail were hauled round the main-topsail and the topgallant sails were flying aloft-up flew the jibs, and in a minute every sail was shaken out aloft everything was arranged, and below the men were holding on the haul-yards, waiting for the word, so that before many minutes we had shaken out all sail, and stood out to Unfortunately, the wind was scarcely perceptible; the sails were seldom filled except in little fitful gusts, and then they would soon hang again, flapping against the masts and tackling. We made, however, sufficient way to enable us to keep our course for some time, when we dropped into a stream of wind just as we doubled round a long point of land, about a mile from where we had been laying: we here altered our course, and went right before the wind. From this moment, every eye was strained, and every glass was in requisition, looking out for the brig, which we expected to see right ahead. The night, though partially clouded, was sufficiently clear and favourable for our purpose, and we expected that it would be still more so, as the moon was likely soon to show itself; it was just then behind a deep and heavy bank of clouds, but promised its clear and beautiful light before another hour could elapse. We still held on our course at a steady rate, with every inch of canvass in requisition, when suddenly the moon cleared the bank, and shone full on the white sails of the brig as she moved at a rattling rate out of the harbour, with the wind on her beams. Her course at this moment was right across ours; we first observed her on our larboard bow, and the moment Seyton perceived her, he went himself to the wheels, and, changing our course full two points, threw her on our starboard

bow: at the same moment we shortened sail, and kept close in for the land, stealing along for the mouth of the harbour. This we did wholly unperceived by the brig; for, as we lay between her and the moonlight, we presented to her only our dark side, or rather only our head, so that we could not readily be perceived. Seyton adopted this course in preference to running down on her directly, in order that we might get between her and the harbour, and so cut off her retreat; if he had not acted thus, she might have perceived us too soon, and then, by quickly tacking about, she might have got under the battery which protected the mouth of the harbour, and escaped us; but by this manoeuvre she got not only clear of the harbour, but was actually dropping out of sight before Seyton would permit the course of the Dolphin to be changed. At last, when his object was perfectly secured, he gave the word: we put about our head, and again spreading all sail, steered directly for the course in which the brig lay, taking the breeze on our quarter. Away we sailed in high spirits, and as the breeze came freshening on every minute, we flew at a tremendous rate through the water, and were rewarded before long with the sight of our destined prey right ahead, and the certainty that we were fast making way on her.

As soon as she perceived us, she hung out her stun sails, and pressed all sail to get away from us before day-light, as if she hoped we might lose sight of her in the dark; and certainly, to give her her due, she sailed away beautifully; for, from the time she first perceived us, for two hours, we could not make the least way on her; and then the breeze began to slacken, and to veer about in such a way, that we found it no easy matter to keep our course steadily. In this uncertain and unsettled state, it continued till day-light, when we found that, though still in sight, we had gained on the whole but very little way upon her. On the wind, however, steadying again in the morning, we were enabled to pull up, and away we flew after her at a rate that it was impossible for her to compete with; so that about noon we were so close upon her, that we were confident of capturing her before evening indeed, if the wind had continued steady, we would have been up with her

in a few hours; but in this we were most provokingly disappointed. Immediately after noon, the wind fell, and as during the night, began to veer about; presently our sails would fill with wind from opposite directions, and soon afterwards it died completely away, and left our sails flapping heavily from their yards. All appearances now betokened an approaching calm, and, long before evening, there was not a breath to fill a single sail; so that we floated like a log upon the water, without as much wind as would enable us to keep our head towards the brig. There she lay before us; she had made more way than we did during the veering of the wind; so that she had got away to some distance, where she lay right ahead of us, be calmed like ourselves. This continued all the following night, and in the morning, on looking out, we found that we were in precisely the same relative position, without the slightest prospect of a breeze.

Of all the miseries of an ocean-life, a calm is the worst. There is no danger in the gale of winds-no fear from the fiercest hurricane-no annoyance from the storm of rain, or the shipping of a sea-that is half so intolerable as a calm within the tropics. There is an excitement in the storm, and a bustle in the gale, that absorbs the mind; and then the magnificence and awful sublimity of the waves, rolling along like mountains, crested with foam like an avalanche, give an intense delight, and fascinate and spell-bind the attention, though fraught with the wildest danger; at the same time, the velocity of the ship's movements, among these sweeping mountains, gives a lightness aud elasticity to the personal feelings that is very agreeable; but in a calm a dead calm-in which the vessel rolls slowly from side to side on the faint swell, without making an inch of way; and the idle sails hang heavily from their yards and tackling, without even flapping against the masts; and the smoke of the cabouse floats along the deck without a breath of wind to raise it; and then the hot and burning sun, scorching us with its vertical rays, while every one feels heavy and oppressedit is truly horrible; and those who have experienced it will acknowledge it to have been the greatest misery to which even an ocean-life can be exposed.

There every one lounges about, with spirits depressed and head aching, and no one able or willing to break silence, while all eyes are turned to the horizon, waiting for the first symptoms of a breeze, and are yet, day after day, doomed to disappointment; it is a resemblance of the halls of death, or of that fabled city where all the inhabitants were doomed to wander in dejection and unbroken silence. If anything was wanted to make such a calm less bearable than it otherwise might be, it was the peculiar circumstances in which we then were. We had a prize just within our grasp, one that had cost us some weeks' cruising and no small expense and annoyance, and now just as it seemed within our reach, and almost in our actual possession, this hateful calm draws on, and mars all our hopes. It was vexatious beyond conception; there she lay right before us, as if to mock us. She was, of course, becalmed like ourselves, just in the horizon, so that we could only see her masts, for her hull was entirely concealed. We paced our deck in impatience and vexation, and kept continually eyeing her through our telescopes, as if afraid she might slip from us: every one who possessed a glass kept it on her, or moved it round along the horizon, to see whether there was any prospect of a breeze to put an end to this state of inaction; and then, when night came on, all our night-glasses were in requisition for the same object; so that, on the following morning, we observed her in precisely the same position, without the least prospect of a change in the weather; so that we were necessitated to undergo the next day also under the same vexatious and tormenting circumstances; for still the dull and heavy calm continued, and the sails hung, and the smoke floated about the deck, and the vessel scarcely stirred except to the slow swell of the gulf, while we had nothing to vary the stupid and deadening monotony of the scene but the numerous sharks that moved slowly and lazily about us, as if conscious of our desire to bathe, and determined to prevent us even that enjoyment.

In this state of inaction, which had now continued for two days, the restless mind of Seyton was so irritated, that he determined to put an end to it by lowering the boats and boarding the