The Young Soldier.

It was the eve of a battle. Far along the sides of the hill stretched the camp of the allies, the long lines of white tents gleaming in the starlight, and the death-like silence of the sleeping army filling the mind with an awe, second only to that inspired by the holy silence of the calm and peaceful stars above. Below was a wide extensive valley, through which wound a narrow river, while here and there along the plain were scattered rich farms, and solemn woodlands. On the opposite range of uplands, the camp of the enemy might be detected by the long-line of watch-fires glittering on the horizon. Occasionally the neigh of a steed, or the “all’s well!” of the sentinel, floated past on the night air. All else was still. A profound calm reigned where to-morrow would be heard the shouts of thousands, the booming of artillery, and the clash of meeting squadrons.

It was yet long before day when Lorraine sprang from his couch, and hastily attiring himself, prepared to join his troop, at the expected summons. It was to him a day of the most intense interest, for not only was he then for the first time to behold the conflict of man with man, but he was to begin that career of arms which he had determined should give him renown or death.

“Yes!” he exclaimed energetically, “though Isabel may never love me, she shall hear my name in every mouth, or else be told by some pitying tongue that I have died in the heart of battle. I feel that within me which will make or mar me. To-day shall lay the first stone in my advancement, and men will talk no longer of the idle page, when they hear of the deeds of the warrior.”

With such emotions stirring in his bosom, Lorraine joined his corps on the morning of that eventful day; nor did he, for a moment, through the long hours of that celebrated battle, forget his vow. Wherever the danger was the most imminent, there the gallant young soldier was to be found. When the battle was at its fiercest, Lorraine seemed only more calm and collected; until even hoary veterans were astonished at the fearless composure of the young officer. Already had he performed deeds of daring, which had been alone enough to make him the wonder of his corps, when he was ordered to charge, with his body of dragoons, on a battalion of the enemy who were about making a movement on the left of the allies.

Flushed with the confidence thus displayed in his coolness and valor, Lorraine dashed off to take up his position so as to be able to check the enemy’s advance at the most favorable moment. Rapid as was his movement, however, he had been anticipated by the foe, and before he could reach the threatened position, the detachment of infantry defending the farm-house had been driven in, half their number made prisoners, and the rest compelled to fall back in disorder. When Lorraine approached their post, they were retreating up the hill immediately in the rear of the farm-house, while a strong body of the enemy’s infantry was pressing upon them in the rear. A thick wood, running at right angles with the road taken by the retreating corps, effectually hid Lorraine’s dragoons from sight, until the very moment when the enemy’s flank was exposed to his charge. Perceiving his advantage, the young soldier waved his sword, and turning to his troops, shouted,

“Charge!” and in an instant, like a whirl-wind they burst upon the astonished enemy. The shock was irresistible. Taken completely by surprise, and already disordered by the pursuit, the foe scarcely stood their ground a moment, but broke in all directions. A scene of wild consternation ensued. Through and through the tumultuous crowd of fugitives, dashed the troopers of Lorraine, hewing and treading down their antagonists at every step. Amid this wild uproar, the young officer might be detected by his snowy plume and white charger; and wherever they were seen, there the battle was sure to rage the thickest. But though broken in nearly every direction, there was still a fragment of the enemy’s corps, which, rallying around its leader, endeavored for a while to maintain its ground, and even succeeded in repelling the attack made upon it by a portion of the late fugitives, who, rallying at the first appearance of succor, under charge of their commander, attempted to cut off the retreat of the enemy. At this moment Lorraine perceived their peril. Quick as lightning he dashed to their aid, followed by a portion of his gallant band; and arrived at the very moment when his brother officer, having been struck from his horse, lay at the mercy of the enemy’s uplifted sword. It was but the work of a moment to strike up the weapon of the assailant, and with another blow to sever the arm of the French officer. Lorraine’s troopers at the same instant, rushing like a thunder-bolt upon the enemy, scattered them down the hill, and before the young officer could stoop to raise his fellow soldier, the enemy had vanished from around them.

“To whom am I indebted for this timely aid?” said the wounded man, endeavoring to rise.

“To a friend—Henry De Lorraine. As I have just joined the army even my brother officers are unknown to me.”

“But you will not be long unknown to them, for a more gallant charge I never saw made, and even a De Courtenay may consider it an honor to be the friend of a Lorraine.”

The young officer felt his heart beat as it had not beat yet through all that day’s conflict. The lover of his cousin was before him. With that name rushed a thousand memories upon his mind, and for an instant he stood silent and spell-bound before De Courtenay. But recalling, with an effort, his wandering thoughts, he bowed to the speaker’s compliment, and assisting the wounded officer from the field, recalled his troops, and prepared to maintain the position he had so gallantly recovered.