with the assault on St Sebastian's. The following is a part of his description of that event:

The forlorn hope took its station at the mouth of the most advanced trench, about half-past ten o'clock. The tide, which had long turned, was now fast ebbing, and these gallant fellows beheld its departure with a degree of feverish anxiety, such as he only can imagine, who has stood in a similar situation. This was the first time that a town was stormed by daylight since the commencement of the war, and the storming party were enabled distinctly to perceive the preparations which were making for their reception. There was, therefore, something, not only interesting but novel, in beholding the muzzles of the enemy's cannon, from the castle and other batteries, turned in such a direction as to flank the breaches; whilst the glancing of bayonets, and the occasional rise of caps and feathers, gave notice of the line of infantry which was forming underneath the parapet. There an officer could, from time to time, be distinguished, leaning his telescope over the top of the rampart, or through the opening of an embrasure, prying with deep attention into our arrangements. Nor were our own officers, particularly those of the engineers, idle. With the greatest coolness they exposed themselves to a dropping fire of musketry which the enemy at intervals kept up, whilst they examined and re-examined the state of the breachesa procedure which cost the life of as brave and experienced a soldier as that distinguished corps has produced. I allude to Sir Richard Fletcher, chief engineer to the army, who was shot through the head only a few minutes before the column advanced to the assault.

It would be difficult to convey to the mind of an ordinary reader any thing like a correct notion of the state of feeling which takes possession of a man waiting for the commencement of a battle. In the first place, time appears to move upon leaden wings; every minute seems an hour, and every hour a day. Then there is a strange commingling of levity and seriousness within him—a levity which prompts him to laugh, he scarce knows why; and a seriousness which urges him ever and anon to lift up a mental prayer to the Throne of Grace. On such occasions, little or no conversation passes. The privates generally lean upon their firelocks-the officers upon their swords; and few words, except monosyllables, at least in answer to questions put, are wasted. On these occasions, too, the faces of the bravest often change colour, and the limbs of the most resolute tremble, not with fear, but with anxiety; whilst watches are consulted, till the individuals who consult them grow absolutely weary of the employment. On the whole, it is a situation of higher excitement, and darker and

deeper agitation, than any other in human life; nor can he be said to have felt all which man is capable of feeling who has not filled it.

Noon had barely passed, when the low state of the tide giving evidence that the river might be forded, the word was given to advance. Silent as the grave, the column moved forward. In one instant the leading files had cleared the trenches, and the others poured on in quick succession after them, when the work of death began. The enemy having reserved their fire till the head of the column had gained the middle of the stream, then opened with the most deadly effect. Grape, cannister, musketry, shells, granades, and every species of missile, were hurled from the ramparts, beneath which our gallant fellows dropped like corn before the reaper; insomuch, that in the space of two minutes, the river was literally choaked up with the bodies of the killed and wounded, over whom, without discrimination, the advancing divisions pressed on.

The opposite bank was soon gained, and the short space between the landing-place and the foot of the breach rapidly cleared, without a single shot having been returned by the assailants. But here the most alarming prospect awaited them. Instead of a wide and tolerably level chasm, the breach presented the appearance only of an ill-built wall, thrown considerably from its perpendicular; to ascend which, even though unopposed, would be no easy task. It was, however, too late to pause; besides, men's blood was hot, and their courage on fire; so they pressed on, clambering up as they best could, and effectually hindering one another from falling back, by the eagerness of the rear-ranks to follow those in front. Shouts and groans were now mingled with the roar of cannons and the rattle of musketry; our front-ranks likewise had an opportunity of occasionally firing with effect; and the slaughter on both sides was dreadful.

At length the head of the column forced its way to the summit of the breach; where it was met in the most gallant style by the bayonets of the garrison. When I say the summit of the breach, I mean not to assert that our soldiers stood upon a level with their enemies; for this was not the case. There was an high step, perhaps two or three feet in length, which the assailants must surmount before they could gain the same ground with the defenders, and a very considerable period elapsed ere that step was surmounted. Here bayonet met bayonet, and sabre met sabre, in close and desperate strife, without the one party being able to advance, or the other succeeding in driving them back.

Things had continued in this state for nearly a quarter of an hour, when Major Snodgrass, at the head of the 13th Portuguese regiment, dashed across the river by his own ford, and assaulted

the lesser breach. This attack was made in the most cool and determined manner; but here, too, the obstacles were almost insurmountable; nor is it probable that the place would have been carried at all, but for a measure adopted by General Graham, such as has never perhaps been adopted before. Perceiving that matters were almost desperate, he had recourse to a desperate remedy, and ordered our own artillery to fire upon the breach. Nothing could be more exact or beautiful than this practice. Though our men stood only about two feet below the breach, scarcely a single ball from the guns of our batteries struck amongst them, whilst all told with fearful exactness among the enemy.

We have no special predilection for descriptions of such scenes as the following, but it may be interesting to our readers to know the manner of the execution of deserters from a regular army.

The place appointed for the execution was a little elevated plain, a few hundred yards in front of the camp, and near the piquet from which the culprits had deserted. Hither the different battalions directed their steps, and the whole division being formed into three sides of a hollow square, the men grounded their arms, and stood still. At the vacant side of this square, a grave was dug, the earth, which had been excavated, being piled up on its opposite bank; and this, as the event proved, was the spot to be occupied by the prisoners.

We had stood thus about five minutes, when the muffled drums of the corps to which the culprits belonged, were heard beating the dead-march; and they themselves, hand-cuffed and surrounded by their guards, made their appearance. One was a fine young man, tall, and well-made; another was a dark, thick set, little man, about forty years of age; and the third had nothing remarkable in his countenance, except an expression of deep cunning and treachery. They all moved forward with considerable firmness, and took their stations on the mound, when, attention being ordered, a staff-officer advanced into the centre of the square, and read aloud the proceedings of the Court. By these, sentence of death was passed upon all three, but the most villainous-looking among them was recommended to mercy, on the score of his having added the guilt of treachery to his other crimes.

As soon as the reading was finished, the prisoners were commanded to kneel down upon the ground, and a handkerchief was tied over the eyes of each. Whilst this was doing, I looked round, not so much from curiosity as to give a momentary relief to my own excited feelings, upon the countenances of the soldiers. They were, one and all of them, deadly pale, whilst the teeth of the many were set closely together, and their very breaths seemed to be repressed. It was altogether a most harrowing moment.

The eyes of the prisoners being now tied up, the guard was withdrawn from around them, and took post about ten yards in their front. As soon as this was done, the same staff-officer who had read the proceedings of the trial, calling to the informer by name, ordered him to rise, for that the commander of the forces had attended to the recommendation of his judges, and spared his life. But the poor wretch paid no attention to the order; I question, indeed, whether he heard it; for he knelt there as if rooted to the spot, till a file of men removed him in a state of insensibility. What the feelings of his companions in crime must have been at this moment I know not, but their miseries were of short duration; for, a signal being given, about sixteen soldiers fired, and they were instantly numbered with the dead. The little man, I observed, sprang into the air when he received his wounds, the other fell flat upon his face; but neither gave the slightest symptom of vitality after.

But

The discharge of the muskets in the face of the culprits, was followed by a sound as if every man in the division had been stifled for the last five minutes, and now at length drew in his breath. It was not a groan nor a sigh, but a sob, like that which you unconsciously utter after dipping your head under water; and now all excitement was at an end. The men were dead; they died by musket-shot; and these were occurrences, viewing them in the abstract, far too common to be much regarded. in order to give to the execution its full effect, the division formed into open column of battalions, and marched round the grave, on the brink of which the bodies lay; after which each corps filed off to its tents, and long before dark the scene of the morning was forgotten. Not but that it produced a good effect, by checking the prevalence of the offence of which it was the punishment; but pity soon died away, and every feeling of disgust, if, indeed, any such feeling had at all arisen, was obliterated. The bodies were thrown into the hole and covered up, and I returned to my tent to muse upon what I had seen.

The author gives some fine descriptions of natural scenery, but much the greater part of the book is filled up with accounts of the manner in which he disposed of his leisure time, notices of whatever events passed under his observation, and sometimes agreeable stories by way of episode. The volume closes with a survey of the armies about Bayonne, when intelligence was received of the abdication of Bonaparte.

A Grammar of Astronomy, with Problems on the Globes; to which is added, a Glossary of Terms and Questions for Examination, designed for the Use of Schools and Academies. By J. TowLE. New York. 1825. 12mo. pp. 174.

WE noticed, with approbation, on a former occasion, the typographical execution of this school-book, and intimated that at a future time, we should speak of the merits of the author a little more in detail than it was then in our power to do. We have at length found time to redeem our promise, and shall say what we think of the book with the less hesitation, because it treats of an exceedingly interesting subject, which it is a pity to render unintelligible by the assumption of false principles of communicating knowledge, as the foundation of the work. We are persuaded, that the author has by no means accomplished his design in the astronomical part of this treatise. It may be "adapted to the business of teaching," but it is certainly very poorly "adapted to the comprehension of beginners."

Many authors of elementary books,-and Mr Towle appears to be one of the number,-seem to suppose, that children, who are entirely unprovided with facts, can understand a difficult subject stated in the most general terms; or when the subject consists entirely of facts, by a mere allusion to those which are the most general; whereas to teach a person already provided with most of the same facts, they would not fail to state them fully. This is entirely wrong. To teach any subject to a child, as many facts, when the subject to be taught consists of facts, or examples, when general principles are to be derived from them, should be given as possible. They should also be of the simplest kind, and many should be given, that might be omitted with persons of riper years. If the book must be a small one, let it not be the less simple, but let it teach but little, and teach that little well. This will be found much more profitable for learners, than to endeavour to comprise a great deal in so small a space that they will be able to comprehend none of it. This Grammar pretends to teach the whole subject of astronomy; that is, to allude to all the principles, which can be comprehended in a popular treatise; and to give an account of the atmosphere, the winds, climates, and the aurora borealis, in sixty duodecimo pages. To those unacquainted with the subject, it must be unintelligible, and to those who are acquainted with it, it is useless.

The problems on the globes may be very useful. The plan of this part of the work is according to our principles of teaching