Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1855-04-19
hliseelIaneous.
From the Boston Olive Branch.
THE TWO PICTURES.
Br cokTEs-KIsNEY.

that onslaught, which before the day was done,
should make Inkermann second only to Water
loo. Through the foggy, drizzly dark, had
burst the blasts of bugles, and drums, and 6fes,
and rattling musketry and the transition from
sleep to battle had been transcent interval of
CONSERVATION not the consterna ton Of coward
ice, however, but of sudden surprise.
10 arms To the summoning martial music
drums, whose hurried roll, and flies, whose
thrilling shrieks, make the blood beat surge in
the veins--to the glorious martial music, man
after man, column after column, company after
thsy wheel into army. Swiftly and
nightly, as though hurled by the power Of
thunder, horse and plumed rider swept over the
field and along the lines, bearing the hoarse, loud
command and rs quick as thought there follow
charges and evolutions, and sublime preparations
for blood
Oh the battle of Inkermann would have
been splendid sight to see in a broad field and
u bright sun. But the nature of the ground'
and the darkness Of the day, rendered it impos-
sible to take in more than small scene of the
grand and terrible drama at one view. Many a
heroic deed was performed that day in obscure
and solitary places that left no record but DEATH
If you found, in some gloomy glen, a flush har-
vest of carnage-corpses lying as thick as sheaves
after the sickles-you knew there had been great
achievements there but they will not illume
the page of history, for their memory sleeps in
the burial trenches with those why died enact
ing them.
Thirst of glory such as is slaked by blood,
had lured young Cecil Gray from his happy
home in England, to the camp and the field
He was an officer in the fifth Dragons and as
we have an interest in him now, let us watch
the performance of the Fifth, on the day of In
hermann.
Is it not they, yonder on the height Let US
get nearer them; for this dismal day is so like
twilight that we cannot distinguish the figure on
their buttons. Yes, it is FIVE. What noble fell
lows How proudly they sit on their horses
With what an air of impatience they lean for
ward, as the battles din increases How their
nostrils dilate with the delay of opportunity
Which of them is Cecil Gray! Do you see
yonder at the right, that tall, noble young Off
Ger who is gazing with looks of unspeakable
tenderness, upon locket miniature which he
has just drawn from his bosom! That is he :;
and the miniature is of-the name would choke
his u utterance, if he attempted to speak it J; for
be is thinking of tho time--nos many rnontirs
ago, but oh how long when the original of
that picture sobbed on his breast, and clung to
him with loves desperation, kissing him with
the most impassioned kisses, and pleading with
him in Gods name not to go-oh, not to 60!
His lip quivers he closes the locket and re.
places it in his BOSOM If he were not agoniz
ingly prayed for with her every breath, of whom
he is now thinking we would say, oh God LEI
him not sink on the battlefield to-day!
The Fifth had lost most of their infantry il
the beginning of the BATTLE for the Turkish foot
their main support had fled, at the first onset
and there remained to them now, only small
division of the Highlanders, a number quite in
sufficient to sustain them. Yet, as the cannon
thundered, and the muskets hailed the dealt
around, the brave fellows felt it like shame t
sit there idle while their comrades were winnin
glory and every moment they grew more co
ger, even without the support of infantry, 70
an occasion to act.
Hark the tramp of cavalry. Every rein
frightened, and every horseman's breath is quel
ed with expection. UP they come at tierc
gallop, as though they meant to sweep tn
height at a single pass. 1t is the Muscovites
Their heavy rushing pillows of horse, dash flu
upon the Highlanders, and are shocked back
the shore of bayonets. They rally, and advan'
more slowly and determinedly.
Then the bugles of the Fifth sounded, and ii
fiery horses arc wheeled into order for the onse
Look at Cecil Gsay he has forgotten IL
miniature; he has forgotten its original;
has forgotten the little cottage by the Thame
> where she is singing prayers to Heaven for hi
: now he thinks only of glory. His brea
0 heaves and pants, and his hand clutches bis hi
9 waiting for the next signal twang.
0 Another blast of the bugles, and the who
q fifth, instantly bristling all over with swort
s like single being, spring into the pas de chars
n laundering hurricane of battle, they swe
v right down on the advancing foe with the spe
of the wind. God of heaven what spectac
With what sublimely terrific shock the t
It hostile masses of men and horses crash togethe
}, Sword clangs on sword horse and rider sin
) the sea of combat surges over them.
!; The Fifth cut the Zoe through and throug
: and when their bugles sound the rally, they d
i regard the signal, determined to fight till Il
Is clear the field or die. Horse against horse w
d onset and repulse, Saxon and Cossack, IL
d cleave one another down, awaying two and
C like stormy sea.
'e Where is Cecil Gray! Yonder is his plur
D. Watch it. 1t tosses above the thick of
s. fight, as if it were alive with glory. There
re loses itself in the smoke of pistols. It emere
rs We lose sight Of it again. Yonder it once m
,e hies along the field, like some splendid bird
!, prey that kills its quarry, but stops not to
p YOUR. Swords leap up above and about il o
)f er plumes nod and sink around it; rider
re horse whirl away from it, and roll down, 1
is surge and die in the overwhelming pillows
Or battle. But that plume, and the sword t
eff goes with it, cease not for an instant in Il
ed sublime career
ar The wounded French Chasseur who reoli
on his elbow here nigh us, watching that plul