less, he could admire the heroism of the Muscovites,-"That sacrifice would have done honour to ancient Rome!" he said, after the campaign, when speaking of the burning of Moscow.

The City of the Czars was now abandoned to double destruction,-fire and pillage. Amidst the horrors that ensued it was very pitiful to hear the howlings of the poor dogs, chained to the gates of the burning palaces.

Some of the people of Moscow remained hidden in their dwellings until forced to come forth by the progress of the fire. Then, writes an eye witness, "On one side we saw a son carrying a sick father; on the other, women who poured the torrent of their tears on the infants whom they clasped in their arms; they were followed by the rest of their children, who, fearful of being lost, ran crying after their mothers." Old men, weeping over the ruin of their country, lay down to die as near to their homes as possible, in the streets, the squares, the churches. Well might Napoleon repeat mournfully,“This bodes some great misfortune.”

But it was not the misery he had occasioned, it was not the destruction he witnessed, which affected the heart of Napoleon; it was the want of provisions for his army-it was dread of the barren wastes that lay between him and France; it was the approach of the Russian winter that kept him spell-bound amidst the tremendous conflagration, until obliged to retreat to save his life. Even then he continued to watch the expiring city during successive days and nights, from the Czar's country residence, about a league distant.

It is wonderful how the soul may be perverted by selfish ambition. During all the retributive horrors of Napoleon's retreat through Russia in mid-winter, when, he says, "they told me every morning that I had lost 10,000 horses during the night," when every bivouac was marked by circles of soldiers left stonedead, and the road was like a burial-ground with soldiers covered by the snow, as they dropped overcome with cold, and hunger, and fatigue ;-during all this dreadful march, Napoleon was as firm as ever in his unhallowed

schemes; and he returned to France making light of disasters which plunged the whole country in grief, and which, as it proved, so shattered his power that it could never be restored to what it was before.

THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

NAPOLEON, compelled to abdicate by overwhelming numbers, by the invasion of France, and the taking of Paris, bade farewell to his imperial guard, saying to them:-"Europe has armed against me! France has deserted me!" He went to the Isle of Elba in deep melancholy and humiliation; but he soon left it in grandeur and in power, to throw himself for the last time into the midst of the French army, and make a final attempt to redeem his broken fortunes.

Entering his carriage at Paris, he said:-" I go to measure myself with Wellington," who was

at the head of the army of the allied sovereigns.

Napoleon's last battle was that of Waterloo, -the grandest in respect of numbers and military movements, and the most terrible as respects waste of human life, that has ever yet occurred.

"At last, then," exclaimed Napoleon joyfully, when he beheld the army of Wellington drawn up in line of battle, "at last, then, I have these English in my grasp !'

But he deceived himself.

In the midst of the French position was a height, on which was a farm, since called La Belle Alliance. Here Napoleon remained all through the battle, surveying the movements of the enemy through a spy-glass, and directing his chief officers.

The most perilous part of the battle for the English was the attack of those veteran warriors, the Cuirassiers, who, like "a furious ocean pouring itself against a chain of insulated rocks," dashed round and round the British squares, with terrible and persevering