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The sea dashed in storms upon the coast, though

not a breeze disturbed its surface, and hollow rumblings, the convulsions of a labouring earthquake, burst from the bosom of the volcano. Towards evening the deep and bloody atmosphere seemed on fire with meteoric exhalations, and torrents of ignited matter rolled their destructive tide along the plains. The natives of Herculaneum beheld the messenger of death approach. For one short moment, the yells of mortal agony were heard above the thunders of his voice; the next, all was silent as the grave, and when the morning sun arose he smiled upon a city of the dead.

Centuries rolled unheeded away, Herculaneum and its fate were forgotten in the universal barbarism that ensued, until one morning some adventurous antiquarians descended into our lava sepulchre. Among many beautiful statues they did me the honor of a preference. France witnessed my resurrection, and I was for some years its proudest boast, when the revolution (to its shame be it mentioned,) moulded me into artillery. In this strange capacity, I made great havoc among the grenadiers of the Prussian despot, and resisted the Duke of York's attack upon Valenciennes. I followed Moreau into Germany,

accompanied his celebrated retreat, and twined fresh laurels round the brow of Napoleon in his Italian campaign of 1797.

By the treaty of Campo Formio between Austria and France, I was restored to Paris, and degraded to the office of door-keeper to the Thuilleries. Here I witnessed the triumphs of the republican faction, and with the prophetic eye of an experienced statesman, beheld in the First Consul an embryo ruler of the continent. It was about this time, that in the midst of a general tranquillity a vast armament was prepared. All France was awakened from repose; its warriors flew to arms, its statesmen to the cabinet, and I among other cannon was deprived of my inglorious occupation. Placed on board a ship of the line, I directed my course to Egypt, and was anchored with the rest of the French fleet in Aboukir Bay.

While closely guarded by the coast, we lay off the mouth of the Nile, intelligence was brought that Sir Horatio Nelson with a numerous squadron was bearing down upon us. In an instant we prepared for action and in a few hours beheld the British fleet crowding all her canvass to the wind. A narrow space lay between our ships and the shore. Thither the enemy directed their course, and commenced a conflict which was continued

with determined perseverance on both sides. The decks grew slippery with blood, and the hollow thunder of the cannons mingled with the hoarse dashing of the sea, the groans of the dying, and the melancholy moan of the breeze that sighed over them, gave an awful sublimity to the moment. Twilight went down upon the work of carnage, and soon the flash of the guns was the sole light that lent its fitful radiance to the scene. When the battle had for some time continued, it was discovered that the French ship with which Sir Alexander Ball was engaged, had on a sudden ceased from firing. On beholding it, his sailors spent with fatigue, requested a momentary respite from the guns. A quarter of an hour was allowed them, and when the conflict had again commenced and the enemy were captured, it was found that she had been compelled to discontinue her cannonade from a similar exhaustion.

It was now the last hour of midnight. Victory had crowned the exertions of Lord Nelson, and the standard of England waved from our dismasted vessels. The firing had long since ceased, and the night became gloomily tranquil until a faint groan, or the occasional crash of a falling mast disturbed its melancholy silence. On a sudden a sound as of a thunder-clap was heard, and a

splendour intense in its coruscation irradiated the whole atmosphere. An awful pause ensued, then a shriek of agony, a loud splash into the wave, and all again was hushed. The alarm proceeded from the French ship L'Orient, which had exploded with the noise of thunder. A few sufferers alone survived, and to these the enemy directed their kindest attention, while the rest were whelmed in the tide.-Peace to the memory of the brave. Glory to those whose unburied corses repose beneath the waters of the Nile. They died in the discharge of their duty, and are sepulchred in their country's gratitude. The blue-wave rolls calmly above them, as if it knew not that death was below, and the rich sunset reflects an unconscious glory on the ruddy ocean that enshrouds them.

Of all the French squadron on whose success so much depended, but a few vessels escaped. I was in one of the number and was the first who carried back to France the tidings of its disgrace. Placed once more in my old abode, I remained in peaceful obscurity until the return of Napoleon from Egypt, gave fresh assurance of hostilities. Nothing could escape his penetration, and grieving to see so old a friend neglected, he determined to gratify to the ful my instinctive thirst for destruction.

Under his auspices I accompanied the French army in its well-known descent into Italy, over the Alpine ridges of Mount St. Bernard. I saw them, regardless of the eternal winter that chilled the very vapours to ice around them, force a march among precipices where the chamois alone dared to venture, and heard their joyous acclamations as they beheld the distant spires of Milan, glittering in the ardent richness of an Italian sunset. A few weeks afterwards, I was drawn up by the side of Napoleon at Marengo, and when the work of death was ended, guarded his repose on the field.

I should forfeit my claims to modesty, were I to recapitulate at any length my subsequent achievements. I shall therefore pass with decorous expedition into Spain, which was the principal theatre of my exploits. At Corunna, I was opposed to the unfortunate but gallant Sir John Moore, and under the superintendence of a young artillery officer, was sent forward to intercept the embarkation of his squadrons. The same engineer employed me in the defence of Badajos. But in vain I directed my thunders against the besiegers. In vain I strewed the breaches with the dying and the dead, for the British troops were on every side victorious. They rushed fearlessly upon the bristling forest of sharpened swords that opposed them,

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