The Ashland union. [volume] (Ashland, Ashland County, Ohio) 1854-1868, 1855-05-09

day is so like twilight that we cannot
distinguish the figures on their buttons.
Yes, i. is-5. What noble fellows !
How nobly they sit upon their horses
With what an air of impatience they
lean forward as the battles din in
creasesl How their nostrils dilate with
the delay of opportunity ai y g.sts'1.
Which of them is Cecil Gray? Do
you see yonder, at the right, that tall,
noble young officer who is gazing with
looks of funspeakable tenderness upon n
locket miniature that,he has just drawn
/ from his bosom? That is he, and the
miniature is of-the name would choke
his utterancc if he attempted to speak it !
for he is thinking of the time-not many
months ago, but oh, how long when
the original of that picture sobbed on
his breast, and clung on him with love s
desperation, kissing him with most i'm
pass;oned kisses, and pleading him in
Gods name not to go-oh, not to gol
His lipquirers; he brushes his hand
across his eyes; he closes the lockct
and replaces it in his bosom. IF he were
not agonizingly prayed for with her
every breath, of whom be is now tank
ing, we would say, o God in mercy let
him not sink on the le-feld to-day |
The Fifth had lost their infantry in
the beginning Of the battle, for the Turk
ish foot, their main support, had fed at
the first onset--and there remained to
them now only small division of High
landers, number quite Insufficient to
sustain them. Yet as the cahons thun-
dered, and the muskets hailed the death
around, the brave fellows felt it like
a shame to sit there idle while their
comrades were winning glory, ard every
moment they grew more andmore eager,
even without the support of infantry,
for an occasion to act 5sf ...-
Hark the tramp of. cavalry. Every
rein is tightened, and every horseman's
bF, ath is quelled with expectancy. LIP
they came at fierce gallop, as though
they meant to sweep the height at sin
gle pass. 1t is the Muscovitcs Their
heavy, rushing billows of horse dash full
upon the Highlandets, and are shocked
back by the shore of bayonets, They
rally and advance again, slowly and de-
terminedly. .sf,ta.it ta.- ;ru.
Then the bugles of the Fifth sound
and the fiery horses are wheeled into
order for the onset.
Look at Cecil Gray be has forgotten
tie miniature; he has forgotten its
original; he has forgotten the little cot
tage by the Thames, where she is sigh
ing prayers unto Heaven for him now;
he thinks only of glory. His breast
heaves and pants, and his hand clutches
his hilt, waiting the next signal twang.
Another blast of the bugles, and the
whole Fifth instantly bristling all over
with swords, like single being, spring
into the pas de charge. A thuudering
hurricane of battle, they swoop right
down on the advancing foe with the
speed of the wind God of heaven
what a spectacle With what sub
timely terrific shock the two hostile
masses of men and horses crash togeth-
eri Sword clangs on sword-horse and
rider sink-the sea of combat surges
over them. go. .F aa
The Fifth cut the foe through and
through-and when their buglcs sound
the rally they disregard the signal, de-
termined to fight until they clear the
field or die Horse against horse, with
ouset and repulse, Saxon aud Cossack,
they cleave one another down, swaying
to and fro like stormy sea.
Where is Cecil Gray? Yonder is
his plume. Watch it. 1t tosses above
the thick of the fight, as if it were alive
with glory There, it loses itself in the
smoke of pistols 1t emcrges. We lose
sight of it again. Yonder once more it
flies along the field, like some splendid
bird of prey, that kills its quarry, but
stops not to devour Swords leap up
above and around it; other plumes nod
and sink around it; riderless horses
whirl away from it, and roll down, aud
surge, ond struggle, and die in the over
whelming billows of battle But that
plume and the sword which goes with
it, cease not an Instant in their sub
lime career.
The wounded French Chasseur. who
reclines on his elbow here nigh us,
watching that plume, forgets his pain,
and ejaculates " C'est supcr6e!" And
it is superb; it is glorious.
But now that plume is the dreadful
centre of a vortex of foes, which dashes
upon it, as upon lone sail the foam
capped whirlpool in the sea. Other
plumes fly to the rescue. Sabres fash
up thick and fast, and chop down into
fiery brains, and cross, and thrust, and
stab. and mix in q horrible turmoil of
heroic desperation.
We close our eyes tightly, with a
slfudderiDg sickness and faintness, and
when we open them on the scene again.
the Russians are in total rout, and the
gallant Fifth in rally, With shout and
hurrah But the plume of Cecil Gray