THE PRICE OF A VICTORS. 845 - ‘sent word home of his welfare, but for the last year nothing was heard of him. . Os. Where was he, then ? Ff, You shall hear. One summer’s evening, a man in an old, red coat, hobbling on crutches, was seen to enter the village. His countenance was pale and sickly, his cheeks hollow, and his whole appearance bespoke extreme wretchedness. Several people . gathered around him, looking earnestly in his face. Among these, a young woman, having gazed at him awhile, cried out, “ My Walter!’ and fainted away. Walter fell on the ground beside her. His father and mother being fetched by some of the specta- tors, came and took him im their arms, weeping bitterly. I saw the whole scene, and shall never forget it. At length, the neighbours helped them into the house, where Walter told them the follow- ing story:— _ | “At the last great battle that our troops gained in Germany, I was among the first engaged, and received a shot that broke my thigh. I fell, and presently after, our regiment was forced to retreat. A squadron of the cnemy’s horse came galloping down upon us. A trooper making a blow at me with his sabre as I lay, I lifted up my arm to save my head, and got acut which divided all the smews at the back of my wrist. Soon after, the enemy was driven back, and came across us again. A horse set his foot on my side, and broke three of my ribs. The action was long and bloody, and the wounded on both sides were left on the field al night.