stores, burns fiercely, feeding the fire with oil and spirits. From other quarters of the metropolis flames and smoke are rising, and every means for extinguishing the fire are carefully removed. This is significant enough. The Muscovites have fired the "Sacred City of the Czars," that Napoleon may not triumph there.

"To this the soldier lent his kindling match,
To this the peasant gave his cottage thatch,
To this the merchant flung his hoarded store,
The prince his hall,-and Moscow was no more!

The French legions find the provision-magazines emptied, the public treasures taken away; and they see the roads to the south crowded with files of carriages, and long columns of men, women, and children; and they can hear -I do not know with what feelings-the holy hymns which the people are singing as they go.

Such was Napoleon's reception in Moscow.

He, gazing on the flames, often mournfully exclaimed, "This bodes great misfortune,”-still selfish, thinking only of himself, and of those who were necessary to his schemes. Neverthe