Why, you see, miss, I can write a few words to say that being that a lady was asking me after lodgings, I told her that they had time past let them there; but being that Mrs. Jones is a very respectable woman, and she's acquent with me going twelve year and more, I'm bound that I know nothing of the

to

case.

say "That is all I ask," said Milly. "Then that's what I'll do," said the hostess.

So the light cart was prepared, and, an hour later, Milly found herself at the door of a very neat but small farm-house, the bearer of a note addressed to "Mrs. Jones of Llandyvy Farm."

To Mrs. Jones she was fain to tell her tale; it was her only hope of procuring admittance into a house of respectability and virtue. She, however, gave only her Christian name, and concealed the name and residence of her betrayer.

Iler tale met credit. She paid a month in advance, promised to do so constantly, and at once took up her quarters at Llandyvy Farm. From thence she wrote to her sister and her aunt, telling them of her heavy grief. Her aunt's reply-misspelt and blotted, but legible-to Milly was the following:

me to think that Evver I stud betwickst you and John, but it hurts me most To think that you didn't stay with me and keep clere of em all,-John as was so poor, and him as pruves such a villun. But com home, luv, and we'll do the best we can, and ye may be a'most like a mery maiden agen. I am your affectionate Ant, and a'most belike yr. Mother, MARTHA L.

My Poor, dere Child,-Wy did you goanny wares but To me? Did you think my Hart wood grow Kold to you because your lot grow Dark? You can Do no beter now than give up your Lodgings, and cum as Kwick as may bee to your Poor old Ant's home, and she'll do her best to cumfut ye. Kepe up yur spiruts, my girl; there's trubbles in life to all, moor than's beknownst to you nor me: it's Likewise shure to have trubbles Wich it Is to drore breth. Now It hurts

VOL. XXXIII. NO. CXCVI.

"Now you must clear your honour and the honour of your family, and have Take your revenge upon him all in one. your fill of revenge upon the villain, it will be your best cure in your sorrow.

"You must begin the prosecution directly, and I will find you funds; and, instead of hiding your head in Wales, you cannot do better than go direct to aunt, who will be very glad to have you back again. As soon as I hear that you are safe with her, I shall come and see you, and bring a lawyer with me, who will direct us how to proceed. But keep up your heart, poor child; and never sink to the earth because a bad man has wronged you!"

Milly's replies were the following:

"My dear, good Aunt,-Your kind letter touches me very much, and you may be sure how glad I should be to see you; but I can never shew my face in that village more. I could not even if John were not there. My spirit is broken, and I shall never look up again. Be secret about my sorrow, and never think to reproach yourself for the past. I am your very attached and grateful niece, "MILLY L."

"My dear Sister,-You are very good to be sorry for me, and to offer me money for the purpose that you say. But I cannot prosecute him. I have called him my husband, and he is father to the child that I shall bear. Neither can I go back to my aunt. I shall never shew my head again. I hope your honour will not suffer for my misfortunes.

EE

Wishing you happiness that I shall never know again, I am your affectionate sister, "MILLY L.”

When Milly's aunt found that her niece could not be induced to return to her, she began to make up her little matters to go and end her days in Wales. But the thought of the poor girl, and of her departed brother's fondness for his child, were too much. "It's enough to call him from his grave," she would say. It was enough to send her to hers. The blood mounted to her head, apoplexy ensued, and she died within twelve hours of the attack.

When the sister found that Milly declined to prosecute, she wrote again to say, that it was due to herself and to her family to take that course, and that, unless she would consent to do so, she must not expect to be longer acknowledged or further helped by her (Mary), for that she would be held a disgraced and guilty woman, unless, by the verdict of a fair trial, she proved herself to have been an innocent victim to the villany of another.

Milly could not bring herself to prosecute. Had she any lingering affection to the man who had betrayed and ruined her? That was never told. But already the mother spoke within her soul, and she had all the sensitive delicacy of a shrinking woman. She could not come into open court; she could not fix that dreadful charge upon the man whom she had once called husband; she could not publicly brand her unborn child a bastard. "Let me live hidden and alone," she said, "and seek to win my way to heaven."

She resolutely and decidedly declined to act upon her sister's requisition. Mary kept her word, and renounced

her.

In one short month, Milly had lost husband, aunt, and sister,-had fallen from affluence to poverty,— from a condition where she was held in honour, to one in which she lived by sufferance and blushed to shew her face. "Such may be, such are to some, the chances and changes of this mortal life!"

But the fortitude, resignation, and patient endurance of that sorrowstricken woman, surely they will find reward in heaven! Perhaps, in the eyes of the Searcher of hearts, the Judge of virtue, Milly never had stood so high.

Near four months rolled away, and her child was born. Then once again she knew a troubled, saddened pleasure,-yes, even under her circumstances, she found a joy in ma ternity! Was that last solace also to be abridged? Yes, so it must be. She must quit her child; her purse was growing low. She must seek the means to maintain herself and him. She heard of a lady at some distance who was inquiring for a maid. She offered herself, told her affecting tale, produced the certificate of her marriage, and was accepted.

Under that lady's kind protection, and cheered by her true sympathy, the poor blighted Milly still lives.

Her son is provided for: she sees him twice in every year. She is resigned and cheerful, and, in her little way, a benefactress to the poor around. Many a cottage sufferer pours blessings upon Milly L

PRINCIPAL CAMPAIGNS IN THE RISE OF NAPOLEON.

No. IV.

THE ITALIAN CAMPAIGNS.

CHAPTER VI.

Fourth Attempt to relieve Mantua.-Battles of Rivoli and the Favorita.-Surrender of Mantua.—The French march against Rome: peace of Tollentino.—Projects of Napoleon, and Conduct of the British Government during the Campaign.

AND now again to the field, for we are following in the footsteps of him who "strewed our earth with hostile bones;" whose career was little more than a succession of battles, the thunder of which burst upon Europe with such stunning rapidity, as effectually to hinder any event unconnected with their fierce and fatal results from fixing itself in the minds of men, during the brief intervals of occasional repose. Napoleon's battles constitute not only his own history, but the great landmarks in the history of his time, a circumstance which renders a just understanding of the character of these actions indispensably necessary to a proper appreciation of the period in which they were fought, and of the ruling powers who then influenced the destiny of millions.

The last battle of Arcole had been fought on the 17th November, and on the 5th December Marshal Alvinzy already received a letter from the Emperor of Austria, again commanding him to proceed forthwith to the relief of Mantua. This order the fieldmarshal communicated to the generals of his army, requesting their opinion of its practicability, together with their advice as to the best mode of carrying it into effect. All were unanimous in declaring it impracticable. The army, they said, counted only 37,000 men, was greatly disorganised in consequence of the loss of officers, and of the sufferings and privations it had undergone during the last operations; it was, besides, in want of provisions, money, clothing, carriages, and matériel of every description. The elements had also added to the difficulties; snow had fallen in such quantities in the mountains of the Tyrol and the Venetian Terra Firma, as to render them in a great measure impassable;

and the possession of the road across Monte-Baldo was deemed indispensably necessary to the success of every attempt.

On the other hand, the accounts from Mantua were of the most afflicting nature. Marshal Wurmser declared, indeed, that there could be no thought of surrender as long as a single "horse, cat, or rat, remained unconsumed within the walls of the fortress;" but the power of endurance was rapidly giving way. Wholesome food had long been wanting; fuel also failed; and the troops were exposed without fire to all the inclemencies of a severe winter. hospitals were destitute of medicines, and unchecked sickness crowded the lazar-houses of woe and suffering in all the ghastly forms impressed by famine; death alone was busy in Mantua, from which hope itself had almost fled.

The

The cabinet of Vienna, well aware of the distressing state of affairs, made generous efforts to strengthen Marshal Alvinzy's army. Provisions, money, clothing, carriages, and pontoons were forwarded. Recruits and drafts were sent from the interior by forced marches, and by the beginning of January the army again mustered 48,000 men ready for the field; but these men had been hastily collected, were insufficiently organised, and the old soldiers, from whom the young were naturally to take their tone and feeling, were bending bencath the recollection of their late disasters. The order for their immediate advance was, however, imperative.

The French army had received reinforcements to the amount of 7000 men from France, and the Italian levies had also rendered some of their garrisons and detached corps disposable for service

in the field. Their return strength at this moment was 57,000 men, of whom 48,000 were effective with the army deducting as usual 10,000 men for the blockading corps, and 2000 for other detached purposes, which we find specified, it leaves 36,000 disposable for active operations. Of these forces, 12,000 under Joubert occupied Rivoli, the Corona, and the passes of Monte - Baldo: Massena, Augereau, the reserve and the cavalry, observed the line of the Adige from Verona to Legnano. Major, afterwards Colonel Weirotter, chief of the staff, was the officer who, when generals and marshals paused, projected the plan which was now to be pursued for the relief of Mantua. The project was to deceive the French respecting the real point of attack, and to fall with the principal part of the army on the division of Joubert, which was farthest from assistance, and to destroy it entirely before it could be supported. The severity of the season, the quantities of snow which had fallen, and the difficulties of attacking the Corona, the most commanding point of MonteBaldo, under such circumstances, would, it was concluded, help to make the French think themselves secure in their mountain - fastness. To confirm them in this belief, two corps, one of 9000 under Provera, the other of 5000 men under General Bayalish, were to advance towards Verona and Legnano, as if intending to force the passage of the Adige; both were to turn their feint attacks into real ones if the opportunities offered, and Provera in particular, was commanded to force the passage of the river, and proceed to Mantua. If this project was too complicated, perhaps, for a military operation, which should always be as simple as possible; if it depended too much on the punctual and exact performance of duty by detached corps and commanders; we are, nevertheless, bound to allow, that it was devised with great ability and calculated with singular accuracy; and its ultimate want of success must be ascribed more to the severity of the season, and the misconduct of the troops, than to its o.vn demerits. But when the soldier is wanting in nerve, confidence, or goodwill, when the elastic spring which must hurl him against

the foe is once relaxed, then strategists and tacticians exert their skill in vain, and find their best efforts tend only to disappointment and defeat; a good reason, it might be supposed, for bestowing more fostering care and kindness on the labourer in the humbler ranks of war, on whom so much is ultimately made to depend. In the British army it happens that, owing to some gallant quality which our people derive from the land of their fathers, personal courage has never been found wanting: we have, therefore, thought ourselves entitled to cast science entirely overboard; and so completely have we succeeded in this laudable task, that we do not possess a single volume of strategy in the language. What progress any science can make without the aid of letters it is needless to say; and yet is the value of science illustrated on every page of military history. And if a small portion only of the skill evinced in projecting the operation we are about to describe, had been displayed during the enterprises of Castiglioni and Arcole, it

almost im

possible, considering how nearly the results were balanced, notwithstanding the mismanagement on the part of the Austrians, to see how they could have failed of success.

The Austrian flanking corps advanced to the Adige, and on the 8th already drove in the French outposts: an attempt to surprise Legnano failed; but though Provera lingered with his movements, Bayalish acted with so much spirit as completely to deceive his opponents. On the 11th Marshal Alvinzy commenced operations: his army, reduced by detachments to 28,000 effective

men, was divided into six columns: of these, one advanced on the left bank of the Adige; a second, with which was all the cavalry and artillery, followed the high road leading along the right bank of the river; with the other four the marshal ascended the huge, steep, and gloomy masses of Monte-Baldo, which, covered with snow, now presented to the eye a trackless and seemingly impassable Alpine barrier. The dif ficulties of the road were found far greater than had even been anticipated: the narrow paths and mountain-ladders were covered with snow,