I beat it again at the Bridge of Lodi. May

I beat it here?"

Napoleon turned to Desais. beaten; what shall we do?"

"We are

"Do? Beat them. It is only three o'clock, and there is time to win a victory yet. Up, gamin, beat the charge, the old charge of Mount Tabor and of Lodi. "

A moment later and the corps, following the sword gleam of Desais and keeping step to the furious roll of the gamin's drum, swept down upon the host of Austrians, piled the first line back upon the second, the second upon the third, and there they died. Desais fell at the first volley from the enemy's guns, but the line never halted.

As the smoke cleared away, the gamin was seen at the head of the line rushing right on and still beating the furious charge. Over the dead and wounded, over breastworks and ditches, over cannon and batterymen, he led the way to victory; and the fifteen days in Italy were ended. Today men praise the power and foresight that so skillfully planned the battle,

but they forget that Napoleon failed; they forget that he was defeated; they forget how a general but thirty years of age made a victory out of the Corsican's defeat, and that a gamin of Paris put to shame the Child of Destiny.

Translated from the French.

แ

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER

66

A chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
Cries, Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound,1
To row us o'er the ferry."

"Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?"

Oh, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.

"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.

1 Pound, a coin.

"His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover?"

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
"I'll go, my chief; I'm ready;
It is not for your silver bright;
But for your winsome 1 lady:

1

"And by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry:

So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry."

By this the storm grew loud apace, The water wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armèd men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.

"Oh, haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
"Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,

When, oh, too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her.

And still they rowed amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing;

Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,
His wrath was changed to wailing.

For sore dismayed, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover;

One lovely hand she stretched for aid,
And one was round her lover.

"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,

"Across this stormy water:

And I'll forgive your Highland chief,

My daughter! O my daughter!"