The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1855-05-30

their postrle dilatc with tho delay Of
opportunity
Which Of them is Cecil Gray2 Do
you see yonder at the right. that tall. no.
ble young officer who is gazing, with
looks Of unspeakablc tenderness. upon
lockct miniature which he has Just
drawn from his bosom. That is he, and
the miniature is of-tbc name would
choke his u'terance if he attempted to
speak il; fo' he is thinking Of tho time
bot many months ago, but oh, how
long when the original of that picture
solbcd on his breast and clung to him
with loves desperation. kissing with most
passioned kisses, and pleading with him
in Gods rame not to go-oh, not to 90 !
His lip quivers; he brushes his hand
across bis eyes be closes the ocket aud
replaces it in bis bosom. If be we're not
agopizirgly prayed for with every breath,
OF whom he is now thinking. VIC would
say, o God let him not sink on the bat
tie field to-day
The Fifth bad lost most of thea infan.
try in the beginning of the battle, for
the Turkish foot, their main supper t,
bad fed at tho first onset, and there re-
maiped to them now only small divis.
ion of Highlanders, humber quite in-
sufficient to sustain them. Yet. as the
caLuons thundered and the muskets
hailed the death around, felt it Ike a
bam, TO sit there idle while their com
rades were winning glory, and every mo-.
ment they grew more esger, even with.
out the support of infantry, for an occa-
sion to act.
Hark the tramp of cavalry. Every
rein is tightencd. and every horse mans
breath is quelled with expectation Up
they come at a fierce gallon. as though
they meant to sweep the height at a sin
gle pass. 1t is tie Muscoviies Their
heavy, rushing pillows of horse dash full
upon the Highlanders. and are shocked
back by the shore of bayonets. They
rally. and advance again, more slowly
and deter mincdly.
Then the buglcs of tie Fifth sound ;
nno the fiery horses are wheeled into or
der for the onset.
Look at Cecil Gray he la. forgotten
the miniature he has forgotten the orig
iual he has forgotten the little cottage
by tho Thames, where she is singing
prayers to Heaven for him new: lie
thinks only of glory. His br, ast Leaves
and pants, and bis hand clutches his Lilt,
waiting for the next signal.,wang.
Another blast Of the Lugl,s and the
whole Fifth instantly brisiIing all over
with swords, like single being, spring
into the pas dc charge In thunder.
irg hurricane Of battle. they swoop right
down on the advancing foe with the
speed Of the wind God of heaven !
what spectacle ! With what n sublime
ly terrific sh"rk the two hostile masses
Of men aud horses crash together !
Sword clal gs Oh sword horse and rider
sink; the sea of combat surges over
them
The Fifth cut the foo through and
through ard when their hugles sound
the rally they disregard the sigral. de.
termined to fight till they clear the field
or die. Horse against horse. with onset
and reruIse Saxon and Cossack, they
cleave one another down. swaying to and
fro like stormy sea.
Where is Cecil Gray? Yorder is
his plume. Watch it. 1t tosses above
the thick of the fight, as lift we're alive
with glory. There, it loses itself in the
smoke of pistols 1t cmerges. We lose
sight Of il again. Yonder "nco more it
flies along the field. like some splendid
bird of prey, that kills its quarry, but
stops not to dcvour. Swords leap up a.
bove and around it other plumes nod
and sink around it; riderless horses
whirl away frcm it, aud roll down, and
surge. and struggle. and die in the over.
wheimng billows of battle. But that
plume, aud the sword which goes with it,
cease not for an instant in the sublime
career.
The wounded French Chasseur who
reclines on his elbow here nigh US,
watching lat me, fcrgeis his ain.
and CALCULATES, $ Cca snper6e" And
it is superb it is glorious.
But now that plume is the dreadful
centre of vortex Of foes Which dashes
upon il, as upon n lone sail the foam.
capped whirlpool in tho sea Other
plumes fly to the rescue. Sabres fash
up thick and fast, aud chop down into
fiery brains, and cross and thrust. and
stab, and mix in a horrible turmoil Of
heroic desperation.
We close our eyes tightly, with a
shuddeIing sickness and faiutness, and
when we open them on tho scene sgain
the Russians are in total rout and the
gallant Fifth in rally, with shout and
hurrah ! But the plume of Cecii Gray7
1t is gone ! The prayers which have
kept going up to heaven from the cot.
tage by the Thames have not been an.
swered. That plume bowed to death
and went down while We were shutting
our eyes.
How eloriously he died On the
field they found him the evening of that
day, with a monument of slaughtered
heroes piled up to his glory And as
bis surviving comrades spaded him a
grave and wrapped his cloak around
him, aud laid him to bis rest, they tnlk.
ed animatingly of bis heroism, and then
they spoke falteringly of one who
No more Of that, my comrade |" said
he who had been his bosom friend, in
choking voice 6 There p he had taken
the locket from the neck of the dead.
clipped with his sword lock from the
horo's hair and shut IL over the minia.
ture g that .b.n l.. l. -.