He was
destined to climb other hill-sides before his life-work was over, and to
take part in more hazardous performances than, when scampering with his
nurse along the rural banks of the Don. Seventeen years passed, and the
bright-eyed boy had become a man. True to the traditions of his house, he
had entered the army, and borne himself gallantly on many a well-contested
field in the Spanish Peninsula. He eagerly pursued the path of glory which,
as poet tells us, leads but to the grave. The dictum as applied to him,
proved to be true enough. The night of the 6th of October, 1812, found him
"full of lusty life," hopeful, and burning for distinction, before the
besieged outworks of Badajoz. During the darkness of night the siege
was renewed with a terrific vigour that was not to be resisted, and the
"unconsidered voluntaries" of Estramadura tasted the sharpness of English
steel. The town was taken--but at what a cost! If any one wishes to know
more of that fearful carnage let him read the description of it in the
pages of Colonel Napier, and he will acquiesce in the chronicler's
assertion that, "No age, no nation ever sent braver troops to battle than
those that stormed Badajoz.
Pages:
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219