drafted off every autumn to the different regiments, and then distributed among the squadrons. were still thick on the branches. Without a word Delkof mounted the horse nearest at hand, and galloping over the drilling-ground, his lieutenants behind him, turned the end of the hedge. The chestnut was standing on the maize-field covered with foam, slime, and blood, its head hanging low between its fore legs, its knees shaking and scraped to the bone. On its chest was a deep wound, where probably it had fallen upon one of the wooden posts planted at intervals as supports to the hedge. Its tongue was hanging out, and blood was dripping from its mouth. The horse reached the marsh, still going in a straight line, and raced through it, apparently without any moderation of One morning, very near the end of its pace, or at any rate none that was disSeptember, Delkof was at work in his tinguishable from the distance at which open-air riding-school, an oblong square we stood. It reached the hedge, rose to enclosed by a single wooden rail, and sit- it, and half crashed through it, half jumped uated at not more than a couple of hun-it. In what manner it landed it was not dred paces from the barrack-walls. There possible to guess, for the acacia leaves were eight young horses in the riding. school, all ridden by non-commissioned officers, while Delkof on foot was superintending operations. Among the eight horses there happened to be one of those all but thoroughbreds which occasionally, by some chance, find their way into the generally mediocre ware supplied to the file of the Austrian cavalry. This beasta dark chestnut-was thoroughly refractory. Seeing that the rider was making no progress, Delkof ordered him to dismount, and the horse having been freshly bridled with a complete set of reins, he proceeded to fix the two curb reins, circusfashion, to the saddle. Keeping hold of the snaffle-reins, he now passed these over the horse's head, and, standing straight in front of it, began by attempting to "loosen "the rebellious animal from the ground. The brute had bored its four feet into the earth as though it meant to take root there. The experiment had scarcely begun when the chestnut, rendered more than ever restive by the constrained position of its head, reared straight up. Delkof saw in an instant that, despite his great skill and huge strength, he had no choice but to let go or be thrown to the ground. At the same moment that he dropped the snaffle-reins, the buckie of the left-hand curb-rein gave way, owing to the violent movement of the horse, so that the animal, losing its balance, fell over to the right, straight on to the top of, and almost over, the rail beside which it had been standing. For the space of about two seconds it remained thus half suspended; then, with a desperate effort, drew its hind feet after it over the rail, and, feeling its head free, for the remaining curb-rein had snapped in the struggle to get clear of the rail, raced off at a mad pace towards the further end of the ground, and straight in the direction of the acacia hedge. Every one stood and stared after the galloping horse, wondering what the end was going to be. "The marsh will cool him down a bit," remarked Deikof with his usual composure, drawing his handkerchief over his hand, which had been cut by the sharp edge of the bridle. Upon examination it proved that, in consequence of the violent effort by which the animal had burst the buckle, and thereby freed its head, its tongue had been cut almost in two by the pressure of the bit, as though by the application of a blunt knife. The terrific pain which this must have caused made the desperate leap of the maddened horse appear somewhat more comprehensible. I may remark, in parenthesis, that the chestnut in question, though considerably disfigured by that morning's work, was in no way disabled, and continued for five years longer to serve his Majesty the emperor. horse with half a tongue pointed out as a curiosity. "The was often The event of the morning was the talk of that whole day. At dinner the conversation turned exclusively upon the display of strength and agility of which a horse is capable when under the pressure of exceptional circumstances. Discussions were raised, opinions aired, examples cited. By evening the excitement had rather increased than cooled down, and the conversation at supper was only an aggravated edition of the dinner talk. It so happened that Ludwey had been away all day, having been invited to a hunt in the neighborhood, and had therefore not witnessed the performance of the chestnut. We were in the middle of supper, when he entered, ravenously hungry, and in the best of spirits, for they had had a splendid run. A dozen voices assailed him on the spot: "Have you heard?" know?" "You've missed the best sight "Do you of the year." "Worth a dozen fox-hunts." "The chestnut," "the hedge," etc., etc. "You must listen." "There is no call for personal violence," laughed Ludwey, shaking himself free, for one of the most eager of the lieutenants had caught him by the sleeve. "I am quite willing to listen, I only stipulate for the choice of a speaker, but I warn him that he'll have to put it on pretty thick if I am to be made to repent my fox-hunt." And then the story was told, with all its details and at great length. Ludwey listened at first with good-humored interest. As the tale developed he grew graver; by the time it was ended he had become very quiet. Delkof was sitting at the other side of the long, narrow table, straight opposite to Ludwey. His voice had not been among the dozen eager voices which had assailed Ludwey on his entrance. He had finished his supper, and sat engaged with a toothpick, his plate pushed aside, his elbows on the table, and his eyes quietly watching Ludwey as he listened to the story. When the narrator had done he leant a little further forward over the table. "So I was right after all," he drawled, his eyes still on Ludwey's face. "Do you remember our discussion in spring? Well, there's the horse that has got to the other side of that hedge." Ludwey made no reply. The two captains looked at each other steadily for the space of a few seconds, and Ludwey's clear, olive skin paled just perceptibly. For the others, very likely the short scene had not the same significance that it had for me, for it was I alone who had been near enough to hear the words of that discussion in spring to which Delkof referred with that same odious smile on his lips. I had noted the glance exchanged, and I said to myself, "There is mischief brewing." The storm of questions and exclamations had again broken loose; every one wanted to hear Ludwey's opinion of the matter. To every one's surprise he seemed to have next to no opinion. He remarked, with apparent indifference, that it certainly was an interesting incident, an unusual feat, etc., and then immediately turned the conversation to the fox-hunt, and to the prospects for the season. This conversation took place on Saturday evening. Early on Sunday morning I was awakened by my servant, who handed me a note. It was from Ludwey, and ran as follows: "You will find me waiting for you on the drilling-ground for a morning ride. at once." Come on horseback, and I jumped out of bed and called for my boots. It was not by any means the first time that I had received somewhat similar notes from my captain. Being devoted to morning rides, and not being devoted to solitude, he had very frequently asked for my company in this same unceremonious fashion, well aware how gladly I came. For a minute or two the invitation did not strike me as anything peculiar. Suddenly, however, I withdrew my face from the basin of cold water into which I had dipped it, and started bolt-upright.. I had not been thoroughly awake till now, but the shock of the cold water had given me back my senses; I remembered what had passed last night at the supper-table, and an uncomfortable presentiment took pos session of me. I looked out of the window. The barrack-yard was so full of white autumn mist that the one long, slanting beam which surmounted the big draw-well in the centre was only dimly discernible; the acacia-trees dripped with chilly moisture. A strange morning, certainly, to choose for a ride. There No one was stirring yet as I rode out of the yard. On the drilling-ground I could see from afar the figure of a mounted rider, waiting immovable. The mist somewhat blotted the outlines, and made man and horse appear of an almost unnatural size. As I drew nearer I recognized Ludwey, upon Satanella. Satanella was an exquisite animal, a coal-black, thoroughbred mare, whom, however, very few people besides Ludwey could ride. There was no positive vice about her; it was simply that she was a beautiful shedevil, and like all she-devils, her peculiarity was that she was incalculable. were days on which a child could have guided her with a silken ribbon in her mouth, when she behaved like a lamb and flew like a bird; and there were other days on which Louis Seeger himself could not have moved her from the spot, nor yet got her to do anything that she had taken into her beautiful, glossy head not to do. What made the puzzle complete was that no one, not even Ludwey, had ever dis covered the causes which determined her "good" and her "bad" days. When taken in the right humor the mare was capable of beating a dozen average horses at any feat of speed or strength. Somehow the sight of Satanella at this moment rather increased than quieted the suspicions in my mind. As I approached Ludwey nodded to me, but he did not speak until I was close. "Thank you for coming," he then said, with a grave smile. "It is not exactly a morning ride to which I am inviting you to-day, but I required a witness, and I thought you would not object to doing me this service. Do you remember the discussion between Captain Delkof and my self in spring - with regard to that acacia hedge? You were with us at the time, if I remember right." "And did you hear the words that then Sunday stillness reigned unbroken. "For passed; the declaration I made?" "So much the better; that will save me a lot of explanation. Remember that nothing is further from me than the wish to impute any underlying motive to that remark of Captain Delkof's; he had every right to make it. I accuse him of nothing; but the remark once being made, I consider myself bound to attempt the jump." I cannot say that I was exactly surprised. I had indistinctly expected this all along, but to hear it put into plain words simply frightened me. Having collected my wits I began to make some faint objections. I have a recollection of clinging with desperate pertinacity to the fact that the yesterday's leap had been accomplished by a riderless horse, and that therefore this alone completely altered the case, and released Ludwey from any obligation which he might otherwise, with his somewhat fantastical sense of honor, choose to consider incurred. "There is nothing to dispute about," remarked Ludwey simply, having waived all my objections aside. "It may have been very foolish of me to pledge my word in such a matter as this, but that does not alter the fact that it has been so pledged. It may be that some men might discover a loophole in the case by which they could save both their honor and their neck, but I am not clever enough to understand these shades and quibbles. I prefer to keep to the sense of the words that were actually spoken. I am going to ride at that hedge." Then my self-control gave way, and I loudly declared that he should not ride at the matter of that we shall soon see what my chances are," added Ludwey. "To tell the truth, I have not yet had the pluck to find out what sort of a temper Satanella is in. I rode her out of the stables as gingerly as though I had her on a cotton thread." The spot where we were standing was close to the usual regulation leaps to be found on every cavalry paradeground in Austria: a hurdle two and a half feet in height, and a ditch five feet in width; things which Satanella, when so inclined, could have taken almost in her stride. Ludwey turned her gently round, and rode cautiously towards the hurdle. The mare went forward willingly enough at first, then suddenly stopped short and flung herself round. Ludwey turned her again as quietly as before, patted her neck, eased the reins, talked to her encouragingly, all with the most perfect coolness and patience. Then he once more approached the hurdle. He did not get so near it this time. Before she had got within fifty paces of it, Satanella again threw herself round, and now the tussle began. Her nose went up, her flanks began to quiver, specks of foam flew from her nostrils to the grass, and all the time Ludwey remained quite still in the saddle, apparently doing nothing but holding the reins. Between the quick snorts of the mare, who was growing more unmanageable every moment, I could still hear his voice, talking to her in a tone as soothing as though he were reasoning with an obstinate child. My own horse, a generally phlegmatic brown, began to grow restive. My breath was coming faster and faster, for I foresaw the moment when Ludwey's patience must give way. The moment came almost as I thought of it; Satanella, whom Ludwey had succeeded in bringing within ten paces of the hurdle, reared straight up; Ludwey, who until that moment had not once touched her with either spur or whip, all at once reversed his riding-cane in his hand, and with the heavy silver top dealt the horse a tremendous blow between the ears. In the next instant Satanella was over the hurdle, and in the same moment I saw her head go down, and understood that she was bolting. The direction she had taken was towards the right-hand corner of the drilling-ground, where nothing but a narrow ditch separated the space of grass from the road alongside. I was watching horse and rider so intently that the idea of galloping after them never even occurred to my mind. Without being aware of any thing like a distinct thought, I felt that the more absolutely immovable I remained the better should I be able to follow with my eyes each movement of both Ludwey and Satanella. Soon I perceived that Ludwey was endeavoring, by the most desperate efforts, to alter the direction, and to turn Satanella's head towards the acacia hedge; I could distinctly see that he dropped the right hand reins, and leaning back in the saddle was bringing all his weight and strength to bear on the inner reins, tugging at them with both hands. By degrees the mare turned in a wide curve towards the hedge, still going at the same insane pace. My sensations were those of a man who is condemned to watch the accomplishment of a suicide without being able to move a finger. Upon the marshy end of the drilling ground the mist hung thicker, the hedge itself was half smothered in a white cloud. The figures of horse and rider grew gradually more hazy, and finally disappeared. I heard a sharp snapping of branches, but I could see nothing distinctly. The moment that they disappeared I recovered my senses with a shock; I had sat till then so absolutely immovable, that I had not even discovered how cold my hands had grown. Even my teeth chattered nervously as I started to skirt the corner of the hedge. Arrived on the maize-field, the first object that met my eyes was a startling and almost comically grotesque figure. Satanella was lying on the ground, or rather she was half standing on it, her knees folded under her, her weight resting on the front of her head, which was pressed deep into the wet earth of the field, while her hind legs were still upright. It did not require the immobility of the carcass to tell me that her neck was broken. About fifteen paces further into the field, and among the maize stubbles, Ludwey lay upon his face without giving any sign of life. I remember noticing that his spurs were drenched with blood. I had dismounted by this time, and raising his head, I turned him over, in the firm conviction that I had a corpse before me. If I had not known that this was Ludwey I could not possibly have recognized him, for his face was covered with a mask of blood and dirt. I had scarcely laid him on his back, when to my astonishment, I might almost say to my horror, his limbs began to stretch, and he opened his eyes. "Where is Satanella?" he asked faintly, but quite audibly, after having stared at me with a puzzled air for fully a minute. With my assistance he struggled to his feet, and proceeded to feel himself all over- his elbows, his knees, his shoulders; there was absolutely not a bone out of place. We stood and stared at one another incredulously; it did not seem quite rational to believe that this had happened. How many men have broken their necks over a furrow in a field, or been crippled for life through a stumble over a cart-rut, and here stood Ludwey beside the five-feet-high acacia hedge and the twelve-feet-wide water-ditch, with a dead horse beside him, it is true, but with sound limbs! We then looked to Satanella. At the first touch the body lost its balance and fell over on its side. She lay before us stretched out at fuil length on the grass, her flanks still steaming with moisture, her eyes wide open and fixed. Ludwey bent down and closed them. He did not even say, "Poor Satanella!" but he remained very silent as we slowly walked back towards the barracks. As for Delkof, I am bound to say that he got off with flying colors. When at dinner-time Ludwey entered the room, pale and grave, with various pieces of sticking-plaster about his forehead and chin, and, walking up to Delkof, began a declaration touching the fashion in which he had redeemed his word, the other broke into his speech with boisterous joviality. Every one in the room had their eyes upon the two, but there was no shade of embarrassment about Delkof, as, in a manner almost hearty for him, he clapped his rival on the shoulder, and told him that it could only have been the unsatisfactory state of his liver or of his digestion which could have made him take a harmless joke in such a truly tragic fashion; that if he had even distantly suspected such desperate intentions on the part of his comrade, he would have sent out at least half his squadron to defend the acacia hedge against the attack of any -- such fantastical madman, at the point | deep knowledge are wanting through of the lance, if necessary, etc., etc. every part of this book; and it nowhere conveys a vivid impression of the personality and the achievements of Turenne, or of the characteristics of the military art during the second half of the seventeenth century. The volume, too, overflows with errors, occasionally of a ridiculous kind; it is burdened with tedious and petty details, while it is very deficient in breadth of view; and it is redolent of that pedantry of the German camp which, since the war of 1870-1, has disfigured the works of so many writers, and which abounds in shallow conceits and sciolism. Napoleon has left us a masterly sketch of the character and the campaigns of Turenne; and M. Le Roy, a recent French writer, has composed a learned and useful account of the conduct and life of the great French mar The officers of both squadrons who sat at the table looked at their plates, at their boots, at the ceiling, at anything except one another's faces. Each and every one was in his innermost mind convinced that the issue of the morning's incident was to Delkof a bitter disappointment, yet each was aware that to attempt to formulate an accusation would have been to make himself ridiculous. Once more the supreme and cold-blooded insolence of the man proved itself victorious. This incident, which would have made the position of any one else in the regiment untenable, did not even for an instant shake Delkof's position. True, he was more hated than before; but though he was aware of this fact he was absolutely indifferent to it, knowing well that mere hatred was power-shal. Colonel Hozier, however, has not less to harm him. THIS sketch of the life and career of Turenne continues the series of the biographies of great commanders we have already noticed, and is an inferior book on a noble subject. Colonel Hozier justly describes Turenne as the first soldier of the old French monarchy; and a graphic account of his fine campaigns, and a discerning estimate of his true place among the masters of the art of war, would be a valuable contribution to military history. This volume, however, is not of this type; and it is rather an ill-digested and hasty compilation, devoid of original thought and research, than a conscientious or a successful attempt to place before us the life or image of one of the greatest captains of the seventeenth century, and to pronounce a careful judgment on his famous exploits. Colonel Hozier, no doubt, has studied his subject; he has read much that has been written on Turenne; and he has, at least, endeavored to describe what were the conditions of war and the state of armies during the long career of that illustrious chief - a topic on which he has rightly enlarged; but real intelligence and Turenne. By H. M. Hozier. London: Chapman & Hall. 1885. scrupled to borrow largely from Napoleon's Précis, without making a sign of acknowledgment; and as for M. Le Roy, he has transcribed whole passages, and almost pages, from that author's work. Henry la Tour d'Auvergne, the Turenne of history, was born at Sedan in 1611. His father was one of the great noblesse of France; his mother came from the house of Orange, that illustrious stem of heroes and statesmen. Turenne, like other renowned warriors, was feeble and even sickly in childhood; but he showed from the first a love for arms; and the story is well known how he passed a night on a gun carriage on the ramparts of Sedan, in order to prove that his delicate frame could endure the hardships of a soldier's life. The boy was brought up with the attentive care bestowed in those days, in many instances, on the young scions of the French nobility; he was sedulously trained in the military art; and the future strategist gave industrious days to the study of the campaigns of Cæsar, and to the astonishing marches of Alexander the Great, whose career made a deep impression on him. At the age of fourteen, Turenne was sent to serve under his uncle, Frederick Henry of Nassau; and the young soldier, who, though of the highest rank, made his first essays in war as a private, took part for some years in the protracted contest between Spain and the Dutch Republic then being waged in the Low Countries. The youth distinguished himself at more than one siege for his professional zeal and intrepid courage; and there is reason to believe that the extreme length and the indecisive character of this kind of warfare first directed |