circumstantial variety and general
grandeur. What a sight it is, that steady advance with his "troops well
in hand!" But for a peculiar flashing of the eyes, and sternness in the
features, of the men, we should have fancied them in the Home Park at
Windsor, encircled, not by ferocious Sikhs in the horrid harness of war,
but by the graceful array of gentler--though, in sooth, more
irresistible--foes. Sir Harry Smith has disappeared--very likely hidden
himself behind a baggage waggon or a huge drum. Sapient speculator!
behold him yonder on the house-top, darting his eagle vision down into
the centre of the distant enemy, and unmasking and anticipating their
movements with unerring foresight. Many serious things his vigilance
must watch; but, without distracting his attention, the "glistening of
the bayonets and swords of his order of battle," fills his heart with
boyish glee. The fierce cannonade from the whole hostile line has begun,
and, although the balls fall short at first, quickly reaches us. Under
this murderous shower, he _halts his line_ for a minute's pregnant
reflection, as an elderly gentleman, playing golf on a rainy day, takes
his spectacles from his nose, and wipes the water-drops away, before
venturing the decisive stroke of the game. Nothing escapes him; every
thing is done in the nick of time. Infantry, cavalry, and artillery,
charge to the right or the left, or straight before them, dash through
the enemy's front, or scour the flanks, or sweep the rear, perambulate
squares, and perforate encampments, just as if the serried ranks of the
Sikhs had been unsubstantial creatures of the imagination, or
mist-wreaths from the "wet nullah," which a lively fancy had invested
with human form and warlike panoply. But one hundred and fifty-one
gallant men killed, and four hundred and thirteen wounded, sufficiently
proved that "one of the most glorious victories ever achieved in India,"
had not been won in a combat with phantoms.

The current of the Sutlej hurried melancholy and portentous tidings from
Aliwal to the Sikhs at Sobraon. The bodies of their slaughtered
countrymen rolling down in hundreds, announced, in terms too dismally
unequivocal, another tremendous blow of British might. In the breasts of
such a people--ay, or of any people--these ominous visitations could
hardly be the harbingers of hope, to cheer them in the final
death-struggle, which they knew to be hourly approaching. The
fortifications at Sobr