soldiers, for combat. It was in the early dawn of the morning
that the celebrated battle of Lipetsk commenced. The arena of strife
was a valley, broken by rugged hills, on the head waters of the Don,
about two hundred miles south of Moscow. It was a gloomy day of wind,
and clouds and rain; and while the cruel tempest of man's passion
swept the earth, an elemental tempest wrecked the skies. From the
morning till the evening twilight the battle raged, inspired by the
antagonistic forces of haughty confidence and of despair. Darkness
separated the combatants, neither party having gained any decisive
advantage.

The night was freezing cold, a chill April wind sweeping the mists
over the heights, upon which the two hosts, exhausted and bleeding,
slept upon their arms, each fearing a midnight surprise. With the
earliest dawn of the next morning the battle was renewed; both armies
defiantly and simultaneously moving down from the hills to meet on the
plains. Mstislaf rode along the ranks of his troops, exclaiming:

"Let no man turn his head. Retreat now is destruction. Let us forget
our wives and children, and fight for our lives."

His soldiers, with shouts of enthusiasm, threw aside all encumbering
clothes, and uttering those loud outcries with which semi-barbarians
ever rush into battle, impetuously fell upon the advancing foe.
Mstislaf was a prince of herculean stature and strength. With a
battle-ax in his hands, he advanced before the troops, and it is
recorded that, striking on the right hand and the left, he cut a path
through the ranks of the enemy as a strong man would trample down the
grain. A wake of the dead marked his path. It was one of the most
deplorable of Russian battles, for the dispute had arrayed the son
against the father, brother against brother, friend against friend.

The victory, however, was now not for a moment doubtful. The royal
forces were entirely routed, and were pursued with enormous slaughter
by the victorious Mstislaf. Nearly ten thousand of the followers of
Georges were slain upon the field of battle. Georges having had three
horses killed beneath him, escaped, and on the fourth day reached
Vladimir, where he found only old men, women, children and
ecclesiastics, so entirely had he drained the country for the war. The
king himself was the first to announce to the citizens of Vladimir the
terrible defeat. Wan from fatigue and suffering, he rode in at the
gates, his hair disheveled, and