army was disputing their prey with the flames, Napoleon, whose sleep no one dared to disturb during the night, was awoke by the light of day and of the fire.

He was

His first feeling was one of irritation. then filled with surprise at the determination of the Russians. His conquest, for which he had sacrificed everything, was vanishing in smoke and flames. He was seized with extreme agitation, and seemed consumed by the fires that surrounded him. He rose

every moment, paced to and fro, and sat down abruptly. He traversed the apartment with quick steps; his sudden and vehement gestures betrayed his painful uneasiness; he quitted, resumed, and quitted again an urgent occupation, that he might hasten to the windows to watch the progress of the conflagration. Short and unconnected exclamations burst from him-" What a tremendous spectacle!" "It is their own work!" "So many palaces!" "What

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extraordinary resolution! "What men ! "These are Scythians indeed!"

Between the fire and him was an extensive vacant space-the Moskwa and its two quays—and yet the panes of the window against which he leaned already were burning to the touch, and the constant exertions of sweepers placed on the iron roofs of the palace were not sufficient to keep it clear of the innumerable flakes of fire which fell on it. Napoleon still walked about convulsively; he stopped at every window, and beheld the terrible and victorious element furiously consuming his brilliant conquest, seizing all the

bridges and advances to the fortress, and enclosing him in it as if by a siege.

Already they breathed nothing but smoke and ashes; night approached, and was about to add to our dangers. The equinoctial gales were in alliance with the Russians, and increased in violence. The King of

Naples and Prince Eugene urged Buonaparte on their knees to quit the scene of desolation; but Napoleon, now in possession of the palace of the czars, was bent upon not yielding that trophy even to the conflagration, when all at once a shout passed from mouth to mouth and roused us from our stupor, "The Kremlin is on fire!" From the Fourth Book of the Christian Knowledge Society.

46. THE TWO CAPTAINS.

BALLAD FOR A BOY.

When George the Third was reigning a hundred years ago, He ordered Captain Farmer to chase the foreign foe. "You're not afraid of shot," said he, "you're not afraid of wreck ;

So cruise about the west of France, in the frigate called Quebec.

"Quebec was once a Frenchman's town, but twenty years ago King George the Second sent a man called General Wolfe, you know,

To clamber up a precipice and look into Quebec,

As you'd look down a hatchway when standing on the deck.

"If Wolfe could beat the Frenchmen then, so you can beat

them now:

Before he got inside the town, he died, I must allow.

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But since the town was won for us, it is a lucky name; And you'll remember Wolfe's good work, and you shall do the same."

Then Farmer said, "I'll try, sir," and Farmer bowed so low That George could see his pigtail tied in a velvet bow. George gave him his commission, and that it might be safer, Signed "King of Britain, King of France," and sealed it with a wafer.

Then proud was Captain Farmer in a frigate of his own, And grander on his quarter-deck than George upon the throne :

He'd two guns in his cabin, and on the spar-deck ten, And twenty on the gun-deck, and more than tenscore

men.

And as a huntsman scours the brakes with sixteen brace of dogs,

With two-and-thirty cannon the ship explored the fogs. From Cape la Hogue to Ushant, from Rochefort to Belleisle, She hunted game till reef and mud were rubbing on her keel.

The fogs are dried, the frigate's side is bright with melting tar;

The lad up in the foretop sees square white sails afar. The east wind drives three square-sailed masts from out the Breton bay,

And "Clear for action!" Farmer shouts, and reefers yell Hooray!"

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The Frenchmen's captain had a name I wish I could pro

nounce ;

A Breton gentleman was he, and wholly free from bounce— One like those famous fellows who died by guillotine

For honour and the fleurs-de-lis and Antoinette the

Queen.

The Catholic for Louis, the Protestant for George,

Each captain drew as bright a sword as saintly smiths could forge;

And both were simple seamen, but both could understand

How each was bound to win or die for flag and native land.

The French ship was La Surveillante (which means the watchful maid);

She folded up her head-dress, and began to cannonade. Her hull was clean, and ours was foul; we had to spread more sail;

On canvas, stays, and topsail yards her bullets came like hail.

Sore smitten were both captains, and many lads beside,
And still to cut our rigging the foreign gunners tried.
A sail-clad spar came flapping down athwart a blazing

gun;

We could not quench the rushing flames, and so the French

man won.

Our quarter-deck was crowded, the waist was all aglow; Men hung upon the taffrail, half scorched but loath

to go.

Our captain sat where once he stood, and would not quit his chair;

He bade his comrades leap for life, and leave him bleeding

there.

The guns were hushed on either side, the Frenchmen lowered boats;

They flung us planks and hencoops, and everything that floats.

They risked their lives, good fellows! to bring their rivals aid.

"Twas by the conflagration the peace was strangely made.