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Youth's Companion

Ulysses, .


The Head and the Heart, .

. J. G. Saxe.




Orlando's Wooing,

Shakespeare .

The Artist's Dream, .

Columbus Before Ferdinand and Isabella,

A Pleasant Acquaintance,

The Stolen Bird's Nest,

Incompatibility: A Charade, Ella H. Clement .










APOLEON was sitting in his tent; before him lay

a map of Italy. He took four pins and stuck them up; measured, moved the pins, and measured again. “Now," said he, “that is right; I will capture him there !” “Who, sir ?” said an officer. “Milas, the old fox of Austria. He will retire from Genoa, pass Turin, and fall back on Alexandria. I shall cross the Po, meet him on the plains of Laconia, and conquer him there," and the finger of the child of destiny pointed to Marengo.

Two months later the memorable campaign of 1800 began. The 20th of May saw Napoleon on the heights of St. Bernard. The 22d, Larmes, with the army of Genoa, held Padua. So far, all had been well with Napoleon. He had compelled the Austrians to take the position he desired ; reduced the army from one hundred and twenty thousand to forty thousand men; dispatched Murat to the right, and June 14th moved forward to consummate his masterly plan.

But God threatened to overthrow his scheme! A little rain had fallen in the Alps, and the Po could not be crossed in time. The battle was begun. Milas, pushed to the wall, resolved to cut his way out; and Napoleon


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reached the field to see Larmes beaten-Champeaux dead-Desaix still charging old Milas, with his Austrian phalanx at Marengo, till the consular guard gave way, and the well-planned victory was a terrible defeat. Just as the day was lost, Desaix, the boy General, sweeping across the field at the head of his cavalry, halted on the eminence where stood Napoleon. There was in the corps a drummer-boy, a gamin whom Desaix had picked up in the streets of Paris. He had followed the victorious eagle of France in the campaigns of Egypt and Germany. As the columns halted, Napoleon shouted to him :-“ Beat a retreat!” The boy did not stir. "Gamin, beat a retreat!” The boy stopped, grasped his drum-sticks, and said: "Sir, I do not know how to beat a retreat; Desaix never taught me that; but I can beat a charge, -Oh! I can beat a charge that will make the dead fall into line. I beat that charge at the Pyramid : I beat that charge at Mount Tabor: I beat it again at the bridge of Lodi. May I beat it here?” Napoleon turned to Desaix, and said: “We are beaten; what shall we do ?” “ Do? Beat them! It is only three o'clock, and there is time enough to win a victory yet. Up! the charge ! beat the old charge of Mount Tabor and Lodi!” A moment later the corps, following the sword-gleam of Desaix, and keeping step with the furious roll of the gamin's drum, swept down on the host of Austrians. They drove the first line back on the second—both on the third, and there they died. Desaix fell at the first volley, but the line never faltered, and as the smoke cleared away the gamin was seen in front of his line marching right on, and still beating the furious charge. Over the dead and wounded, over breastworks and fallen foe, over cannon

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belching forth their fire of death, he led the way to vic-
tory, and the fifteen days in Italy were ended. To-day
men point to Marengo in wonder. They admire the
power and foresight that so skillfully handled the
battle, but they forget that a General only thirty years
of age made a victory of a defeat. They forget that a
gamin of Paris put to shame "the child of destiny."




T was a Christmas morning, the bells tolled loud and

Awake, awake, O sleepers ! for Christmas Day is here !
Awake, awake! this morning we bring to you again
This message down from Heaven, Peace and good-will

to men.

Within her curtained chamber, the Lady Judith heard,
But in her aching bosom no chord responsive stirred ;
Though on the wall before her an ancient picture hung,
In which the infant Jesus to His “ blessed mother"


She sees the Son and mother, she hears the joyful bells,
And her heart grows hard and bitter as the tide of

“ And what to me is Mary's Son ?" she cries in anguish

“While on my darling's little grave

the winter's snows
are piled;

“ And what to me are Christmas bells, when I no more

may hear

The voice that all my music made, fall on my longing

ear ?

Then sudden silence filled the room, a silence so pro

found, My Lady, awe-struck, raised her head and wondering,

looked around.

No more four walls confined her gaze; before her, far

and wide, She saw a beauteous valley spread, with hills on either

side. Amid the verdant grasses

ar streams of water strayed, And trees, with sweet fruits laden, a pleasant shadow


Fair temples crowned the lovely slopes, bright flowers

bloomed everywhere, And birds with brilliant plumage with music filled the

air; But now among the flowers and underneath the trees And floating in the crystal floods, what is't my Lady sees? Can they be earthly children? or are they angels bright, Those happy little creatures, all robed in spotless white?

And now the childish voices in sweetest singing blend, “ All hail! all hail!" they joyful cry, "He comes, the

children's Friend," And walking in the valley, she sees a noble form; The happy children leave their play and round about

Him swarm,

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