face begrimed with dirt and smoke, and wildly rolling, inflamed, bloodshot eyes, stood before him with levelled musket.

"What wouldst thou, unhappy man,' exclaimed Bernhard, as horrorstricken he recoiled a step. The child screamed in terror, clung to him, and buried its little head in his bosom.

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Thy warm furs, or I shoot thee !' yelled the madman. 'There's no comradeship here; I have as good a right as thou to provide for myself.'

"Bernhard saw himself alone with the exasperated murderer; and though thousands were within call, the desperate wretch's shot would have prevented their aid, even should any individual yet have sufficient sense of another's danger, to prolong his way and his sufferings by a few steps in order to avert it. He had no choice but to submit, although he well knew that with his warm clothing he should give his life.

"Wilt thou prolong thy life through the murder of a comrade?' he rejoined, with the dignity of resolution. Be it so, but 'twill not be for long. Thine hour is at hand.'

"Hasten! or death will gripe me!' cried the frantic wretch, still presenting his musket, whilst his blood-shot eyes rolled wildly in their sockets.

"Bernhard set down the child, in order to pull off his fur cloak, when he heard a loud shriek. He looked up, and saw Bianca throw herself in tears at the maniac's feet. 'Take this gold, take these jewels,' she cried, take my warm mantle, only spare my brother!' With the hurry of agonizing fear she had torn a valuable chain from her neck, flung off her costly fur pelisse, and there she knelt, with slightly covered arms, exposed to the freezing cold, before the ruffian.

"He gazed at her with wide staring eyes, then his arms sank slowly, his firelock dropped upon the ground, he covered his face with both hands, and broke into whimpering tears. Ludwig had now joined the groupe, and with Bernhard raised Bianca, who still knelt, tendering her gifts with outstretched arms.

"And could I become such a wild beast?' suddenly exclaimed the stranger. No! this disgrace I cannot outlive. Forgive me! You once knew me a different creature. These dreadful sufferings have maddened me; but I know what I have to do now.'

"Where have I known you?' asked Bernhard, gazing at him with perplexed and indistinct recognition.

"No wonder you do not know me. I should not have known myself,' he replied gloomily. Of this order I can no more in my life be worthy,' and tearing the ribbon of the Legion of Honour from his rags, he tossed it on the snow, 6 so I will try to deserve your laying it on my grave. I judge my deed as it deserves.' He set the butt end of his firelock upon the ground, leant his breast upon the muzzle, and trod upon

the trigger. The piece went off; the wretched man fell.

*

"As his eyes closed Bernhard recognized him. He was the very same serjeant whose humanity, mingling with his undeviating strictness

VOL. XIX. No. XXXVIII,

CC

in his military duty, had saved the lives of both Bernhard and Ludwig when imprisoned at Smolensk."

We will now close our extracts with a single bivouac scene. The fire, judiciously located by Rasinski for his own little party, -soldiers he no longer has-gradually attracts as many straggling soldiers as can crowd around it; and all are fast asleep, except the broodingly remorseful lover, Jaromir, whose turn it is to watch and feed the flames, upon the kindly warmth of which the lives of all depend.

"Suddenly Jaromir heard in his immediate neighbourhood a loud laugh. He started, as though a cold lightning-flash of horror had blasted him; for the sounds, in such awful circumstances, seemed positive blasphemy. He endeavoured to shout, 'Who's there!' but his voice died upon his lips, and his eyes gazed doubtfully into the darkness, as though to discover the spirit of the abyss who must be lurking there.

"At this moment, a ghastly figure stepped forth from the shadows of night into the fire-light. It was a gigantic cuirassier, wrapt in a tattered cloak, his head bound with a blood-drenched handkerchief under his helmet. He carried a young fir-tree in his hand as a walking staff.

"In a hollow voice he accosted Jaromir, Good evening, comrade, good evening! Merry doings here! Ha!'

"What wouldst thou here?' cried Jaromir, horror-stricken. Away with thee, phantom.'

"The cuirassier glared upon him with his hollow eyes, distorted his mouth into a hideous grin, and gnashed his teeth, like an enraged animal. Ha ha ha!' laughed he harshly. Sleep ye so sound, ye sluggards?' and he stamped upon a stiffened corse, that lay beneath his foot. Wake up! Come along with me!'

"He stood a minute, as if listening, then staggered towards the fire. "Back!' cried Jaromir. Back, or I fire!' He drew a pistol, but the hand that grasped it trembled, and he could not raise or present it.

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"Huh! I'm freezing!' yelled the maniac, shaking himself. Then, like a sportive child, he caught at the flames, reeled nearer and nearer, till he stood close behind the ring of sleepers, over whom he stretched his arms towards the fire. Now first he appeared sensible of the warmth. A low whine issued from his breast, then, half-laughing, half-moaning, he suddenly cried, 'To bed! Quick, into my warm bed!' and staggering over his recumbent comrades, plunged madly into the flames.

'Help! help!' shrieked Jaromir, his hair on end with horror, and grasping Rasinski, he shook him with convulsive strength.

"Rasinski started up, asking, What is the matter?' Jaromir with difficulty stammered out, There! there!' and pointed to the flames in which the poor yelling maniac writhed frightfully.

"Rasinski rather divined than understood what had occurred. Reso

lutely he sprang forward to snatch the poor wretch from destruction. Too late! Already the heat had suffocated him.”

But the sight of frenzy has with a strange, though not very uncommon sort of sympathetic contagion, enkindled the spark of incipient insanity lurking in Jaromir's gloomy remorse. He suddenly breaks into raving, whilst Rasinski and Bianca, whom the disturbance has awakened, strive in vain to soothe him.

"He stared fixedly into the flames. Suddenly he burst with overpowering strength from Rasinski's arms, cried, 'That is the burning pit of hell! The powers of darkness hurl me into it! Quick! quick!' And with a fearful gesture he attempted to dash himself into the blazing fire. Rasinski clasped him with the force of agony. Bianca threw herself at his feet, and clung about his knees, shrieking, with her utmost powers of voice, 'Help! help! brother! Ludwig!'

"Roused by her voice from lethargic sleep, Ludwig started up, exclaiming, as he saw Jaromir battling against Rasinski and Bianca, 'Heavens! what means this?' Bernhard likewise awoke, and sprang up. It was time. Rasinski's whole manly strength could no longer control the frantic Jaromir's efforts to plunge into the fire. Help, friends!' he cried, help me to master him, or he is lost.'

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"Jaromir's frantic struggles were succeeded by complete prostration of strength. He sank down helpless, but, as though racked with pain, broke into heart-rending cries and groans. These sounds, following the preceding tumult, at length awoke all the sleepers. "Who is that madman?' surlily grumbled a colossal grenadier. 'What wants he? Is he to rob us of the few precious minutes of sleep we can enjoy? Toss him out of the ring, let him freeze, and not disturb us.'

"Throw him out! Out with him!' chimed in the boisterous cry of his awakened comrades, and several sprang up to execute the savage deed.

"Bianca uttered a loud shriek of terror; Ludwig caught her on his right arm as she sank, whilst with the left he kept off one of the threatening barbarians.

"Rasinski, who at once appreciated the imminence of the danger, dropped Jaromir into Bernhard's arms, and sprang with flashing eyes into the midst of the circle. With quick determination he snatched a blazing brand from the fire, brandished it over his head, and in that lion's voice, which could rule the thunder of the battle, spoke in accents of command, Back, wretches! This burning brand shatters the head of him who advances a step.'

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"The exasperated assailants paused, confounded, overpowered by Rasinski's moral ascendency. Only the one bearded warrior, who had first spoken, drew his sword, and furiously shouted, What, dastards? Are ye all cowed by one man? On! on! Down with the Polish dog!' "Wild beast that thou art!' thundered Rasinski in retort, and rushed like a lion upon the raging barbarian. 'Down with thee, bru

talized monster!' With powerful adroitness he at once grasped the wrist of the hand that brandished the sabre, thus rendering the weapon useless, and struck him on the head with his burning club, which, splintering, scattered a shower of coal and sparks around. But the grenadier's thick bearskin cap weakened the blow. The enraged soldier was not stunned, and his fury was increased even to foaming madness. Built for an athlete, and taller, by half a head, than his antagonist, he dropped his sabre, and, grappling with Rasinski, endeavoured to hurl him into the fire. A moment they wrestled; the Pole slipped, reeled and sank upon one knee. He was lost! Reckless, brute force was about to destroy a hero! But with the rapidity of lightning, Ludwig sprang to his aid. He grasped the savage from behind, and dragged him back so violently, that together they fell to the ground. Rasinski now snatched up the dropped sabre, with his left hand tore the bearskin cap from his fallen adversary's head, and with his right dealt a blow at his forehead that clove his skull. Haughty, commanding as a monarch, he now upraised himself, stood majestically_amidst the astonished and terrified circle, and authoritatively said, Fling the carcase out into the snow, then lie down again and sleep on. Trouble yourselves no more than though I had slain a wolf.’

"As though no longer needing it, he disdainfully tossed away the weapon, ruling the multitude solely by his loftier soul. No one dared to stir. A couple of men obediently took up the bleeding body, carried it a few paces from the circle, and Aung it down in the snow."

And again the whole bivouac company, save the appointed watchers of the fire, Ludwig and Bernhard, go to sleep!

At Wilna, the calamities of the retreat end. There Jaromir dies in the arms of his tenderly forgiving bride, who, accompanied by her guardian, Rasinski's noble sister, and her friend Marie, Ludwig's sister, has come thither to soothe and recover him. The reinforced French repulse an attack of Cossacks, then evacuate the town, when Rasinski insists upon his non-military friends remaining under the protection of Bianca, as a Russian princess; and Marie, for the first time avowing her love, flings herself into his arms, and hangs upon his lips, at parting.

After such potent calls upon our sympathies, who can care about the commonplace, conjugal happiness of a couple of German households? Yet more: who can endure Marie's abandonment of a passion thus openly and despairingly acknowledged, to accept Bernhard, before she even knows that Rasinski is probably drowned? Our romance cannot stand it, and we lay down the pen.

ART. VI.-1. Vergleichende Darstellung Griechischer BauOrdnungen. (Comparative Examples of the Greek Orders.) Von J. M. Mauch, Folio. Potsdam.

2. Elements of Architectural Criticism, for the Use of Students, Amateurs, and Reviewers. By Joseph Gwilt, Author of a Translation of Vitruvius, &c. Svo. London, 1837.

VERY remote was it from our intention to return thus speedily to any topic connected with architecture; nevertheless we are relieved from the necessity of making any apology for so doing, neither will our readers feel the slightest surprise at it. Rather would there be surprise on their part, and apology be due on ours, were we not on so very peculiar and extraordinary an occasion, to deviate from our usual course, not merely as regards our prompt recurrence to this particular subject, but also our speaking chiefly of an English publication. That, in this latter respect, we are not intermeddling with what in nowise concerns this periodical, is evident enough, Mr. Gwilt's "Elements," as he is pleased to call his book, being neither more nor less than a direct attack—how able and judicious a one will presently be shown-upon the architectural articles that have appeared in the Foreign Quarterly, and on the opinions therein propounded. Although by no means so intended, it is certainly complimentary to us that a professional writer should have composed a volume expressly for the purpose of putting down what he considers very mischievous doctrines-doctrines particularly disagreeable because completely at variance with his own; yet not contemptible, idle babblings; else, wherefore should he, while evidently disposed to sneer at Reviewers in general, confine his remarks exclusively to this journal, and, after the lapse of three years, bestow such very particular attention upon the paper on the "Present School of Architecture in Germany," printed in our 27th number?

No; the reason for his hostility is sufficiently obvious: he feels that, as it has happened, we were mainly instrumental in being on that and a former occasion the first to call the attention of our countrymen to the merits of Schinkel and others, who were previously hardly known among us even by name; consequently he regards us-not unjustly--as particularly obnoxious, and active in disseminating a taste most fatally opposed to that of his own favourite Palladian style. Perhaps, too, he has been alarmed into the determination to take up thus tardily his pen against us, by finding that, although their writer "should have confined his opinions to his own circle," the architectural papers in this Review have attracted no small degree of notice among those who are