beauty, that her master himself in a short time offered her his hand, which to his great surprise she thought proper to refuse. It seems she was resolved to marry her deliverer only, even though he had lost an arm, and was otherwise disfigured by wounds in the service of his country. And shortly afterwards their nuptials were celebrated.

But all the lines of her fortune were to be striking: the very day on which they were married, the Russians laid siege to Marienburg, and the newly-wedded pair had to part. The bride never again saw her husband alive: he was killed in the first attack on the city.

In the meantime, the siege went on with fury-aggravated on one side by obstinacy, on the other by revenge. The war between the two Northern powers at that time (A.D. 1700) was truly barbarous; the innocent peasant and the harmless maiden often shared the fate of the soldier in

Marienburg was taken by assault; and such was the fury of the assailants that not only the garrison, but almost all the inhabitants, men, women, and children, were put to the sword; at length, when the carnage was pretty well over, Catharine was found hid in an oven.

The fame of the loveliness of the captive maid came to the ears of Prince Menzikoff, who bought her from the soldier, her master, and placed her under the direction of his own sister. She had not been long in this situation, when Peter the Great, paying the prince a visit, was struck with the grace and modesty of the beautiful slave that was handing round fruits and wines to her master's guests. On the following day the mighty monarch sent for Catharine, and, on conversing with her, found her intelligence and understanding equal to her beauty. In a short time the poor stranger, captive, and slave was made a partner of the throne of Russia.

She ever after retained those virtues and great qualities which first placed her on a throne; and at length, when she had greatly filled all the stations of empress, friend, wife, and mother-bravely died without regret, regretted by all.

THE CRIMEAN WAR.

AFTER a peace of nearly forty years England became again involved in a European war (A.D. 1854). It arose from the ambition of the Russian Emperor to extend his dominions by encroaching upon Turkey, with the view ultimately of annexing the whole country. To prevent Russia from becoming so powerful as to endanger the liberty of other European states, England and France, and afterwards Sardinia,1 joined Turkey in making war against her.

The chief interest of the war centred in Sebastopol, a strongly fortified town in the Crimea,2 and the chief naval arsenal of the Russian Empire. With the design of moving on to the attack of Sebastopol, the allies landed at Eupatoria 3 Bay. Between them and the town flowed the river Alma, and on the rugged heights beyond the river was posted the Russian army. Here was fought the first pitched battle of the campaign. The English were commanded by Lord Raglan, the French by Marshal St. Arnaud, and the Russians by Prince Menschikoff. According to the concerted plan of attack, the French were the first to advance and establish themselves on the cliffs beyond the river. In this they were completely successful. When the British, in their turn, went forward, the Russian batteries on the opposite slope opened upon them with a destructive fire. But our gallant soldiers pressed on like a resistless torrent, through vineyards, over barricades of felled trees, across the river, and up the steep ascent beyond. The redoubt from which they had been cannonaded was stormed, taken, and retaken. The tug of war was about equal, when the Highland Brigade under Sir Colin Campbell arrived, and in cooperation with the Guards decided the day in our favour. Two guns placed by Lord Raglan on a commanding eminence completed the Russian defeat. The enemy retired, however, in good order towards Sebastopol.

The allied armies, after a rest of two or three days, resumed their march, and finally took up their position between Sebastopol and Balaklava. The latter was a village with a small harbour, of the greatest consequence to our army, as through it all supplies from home must come. The safety of this place was committed to Sir Colin Campbell and his 93rd Highlanders. The main body was soon engaged in constructing batteries for cannonading the fortresses of Sebastopol, whilst the allied fleets took up a position for pouring in shot and shell on the side facing the sea. On the morning of the 17th of October the bombardment began. But the Russian defences were so admirable, and their artillery so well handled, that when sunset came, it was found that eight ships of the line, two English and six French, had been so sadly mauled that it became necessary to send them home for repairs; on the other hand, not a single breach had been made in the Russian walls, although in many places they were dinted as thickly with cannon-balls as if a hailstorm had beaten against them, and each hailstone had left a mark behind.

The Russians, growing bold with success, in less than a week made a sudden attack on our position at Balaklava. The Russian cavalry came sweeping on at a rapid pace towards the village, in front of which the Highlanders were drawn up in a double line to receive them. It looked as if that coming charge of cavalry, now rushing on like a hurricane, must snap asunder that thin red line like a thread. But before the enemy had come within 250 yards, a deadly volley from the Highland rifles brought the whole squadron to a sudden pause, and in another moment they hurriedly faced about in the direction of their friends. Shortly afterwards our Heavy Brigade, of Scots Greys, Inniskillings, and Dragoon Guards, rode like a whirlwind through a mass of Russian cavalry thrice their number. This was a day of heroic deeds. But the most brilliant feat of all was the charge of the Light Brigade, consisting of only 600 horse

men.

As the Russians were retiring with some guns taken from the Turks in the morning, this gallant corps made a splendid dash at them. For about a mile they rode at full gallop under the fire of thirty cannon and thousands of musketry. They went clean through a body of infantry drawn up to bar the way, reached the guns on the other side, and sabred the gunners. They then rode back through the same storm of musket-shot and cannon ball, "but not-not the six hundred :" only one man in three survived that day.

On Sunday, the 5th of November, 1854, was fought the battle of Inkermann, generally called the "soldiers' battle," because it was a trial of strength and courage between the soldiers in the two armies, with scarcely any plan on the part of the generals. Under cover of the night and a fog, the Russians had crept silently up to the extreme right of the British position, overlooking the valley of Inkermann, and had planted their guns in commanding positions, when our picket, with the first faint dawn of light, saw with astonishment masses of Russian troops pressing on towards the British lines. An earth-work called the Two-gun battery formed the focus of the fight. For three hours the Grenadier Guards and Fusiliers maintained their position, as the French general said, with "invincible solidity." When their ammunition was exhausted, they used the butt-end of the musket and the point of the bayonet. Having to contend against five or six times their number, the British would have been overpowered, but for the timely arrival of 6,000 French. Side by side the English and French soldiers. fought, each trying to excel the other in deeds of valour, against a foe three or four times as numerous as themselves combined. Over the whole field the Russian columns were at last in full retreat, like waves that had spent their force in vain upon a rock, leaving behind them a wreck of the dead and dying amounting to 4,000.

And now commenced a woeful time for the British army, ill provided with food, clothing, and shelter for resisting the

rigours of a Crimean winter. On the 14th of November a furious storm swept over Balaklava, and wrecked the vessels in the harbour, with their cargoes of warm clothing and provisions. The soldiers' tents were levelled like grass before the scythe; and even the wooden houses, that had been set up for hospitals, were in some cases borne away on the hurricane, leaving the sick and wounded exposed to the inclemency of the sky. The rain and snow that descended soon converted the entire camp into a sea of mud, and the road from Balaklava to the camp into a canal of deep mire. Our victorious army was soon reduced by sickness and death to a few thousand ragged, half-fed, over-wrought soldiers, exhausted by work in the trenches during the day, and the necessity of keeping watch as sentinels by night.

The intelligence of their miserable plight went to the heart of the nation at home. More than a million pounds were subscribed to the "Patriotic Fund." Many busy hands, moved by kind hearts, made up huge bundles of blankets, and woollen things in all possible forms, whilst others packed up hams and cured meats of all kinds; and these supplies were then forwarded in all haste to the seat of war. The sympathy of the nation evinced itself in a still nobler form. Thousands of diseased, mangled, and mutilated soldiers overcrowded the hospitals at Scutari 5 and elsewhere, and were dying for want of careful nursing. A noble band of women, with Florence Nightingale at their head, went out to brave the horrid spectacle of a soldiers' hospital, and to minister with tenderness and devotedness to the pitiable sufferings of the sick and wounded. Miss Nightingale and her thirty-seven nurses arrived at Scutari just before the wounded were brought in from the battle of Inkermann. The presence of these ladies was like a spell, under which pain was abated, murmurs hushed, and the glazed eye kindled with new comfort and hope. Miss Stanley, with fifty new nurses, soon afterwards went out to aid in the good work. Of all the glories of the war we