as we reached the summit of a gentle rise, we saw the advance party standing with their shakos on the end of their rifles—a signal which meant “the enemy is in sight, in force." From the slight elevation where we were standing we could see the road stretching before us for nearly a mile. Near us were woods, but in front, to the right and left of the road, were open fields, bordered on both sides and at some distance in front by woods. It was a beautiful day-the trees were clothed with the tender, delicate foliage of early summer, and the fields were green with young crops. From where we stood we could see nothing of the enemy, but we saw the advance guard extend from its centre and push on in skirmishing order. Nos. I and 2 Company were ordered to move up and extend on their left and right flanks respectively, and Nos. 3, 4 and 6 advanced in support. In a few minutes puffs of smoke from the skirmishers and from the woods and fences in front of them told that the action had begun. Before long we heard the whistle of bullets in the air, and No. 7 Company was extended to the left in skirmishing order, with No. 8 (Trinity College Company) in support. This brought the University Company to the front of the column, but we did not long remain there. We were marched off to the right, extended, and told to lie down on a low, pebbly ridge, behind which grew some fine maple trees. Here we lay for a while, the bullets singing over our heads, and cutting off branches from the maple trees. In a few minutes Major Gillmor came up and ordered us to clear the woods on the right from which these bullets seemed to be coming. We jumped up and advanced in skirmishing order, supported by No. 10 Company, the Highlanders, from whom, however, we soon became separated in the thick woods, through which our course at first lay. After clearing the woods we came out into an open field. Behind the fence on the other side of the field we saw some men kneeling, and puffs of smoke showed them to be in action. It was not at first clear whether they were friends or foes. Some of our men were about to fire on them, but Ensign Whitney, who was in command, called out, "Don't fire, they may be our own men. Lie down and wait till I find out." We lay down as directed, and watched him as he quietly walked forward for a hundred yards or so. Then he stopped, took a leisurely observation through his field glass, and turning round to us, called out, cheerfully, "All right, boys! They are the enemy. Fire away." We ran up to him. Till we reached him he stood watching the enemy, apparently absolutely indifferent to the bullets that were whistling round him. We then crossed a road, where the Fenians had made a barricade of fence rails, and entered a field of young wheat, studded at intervals with black stumps. Here we could see no Fenians, but from behind fences, and from the woods in front of us, they kept up a hot fire. Our advance across this field was the most exciting part of the fight, and was conducted in this fashion : having selected a desirable stump at a convenient distance in front, we made a dash for it at full speed, and the moment we reached it we fell flat on our stomachs behind it. This was the signal for a shower of bullets, some of which whistled over our heads, some struck the stump, and some threw up the dust in the field beside us. As soon as our opponents had emptied their rifles, we fired at the puffs of smoke, reloaded, selected another stump, and so on, da capo. In this way we crossed the wheat field and entered another wood, through which we advanced under cover of the trees. Here we were a good deal annoyed by the fire of some of our own friends, who, not knowing our whereabouts, were firing into the wood from behind us. Sergeant Bryce-now the Rev. Professor Bryce, of Winnipeghad taken post behind a fine, thick maple tree. Before long it became doubtful which side of the tree was the safest, and Bryce settled it by saying, "I'd rather be hit before than behind," and deliberately placed himself in front of the tree. Beyond this wood was a recently-cleared field, and beyond that another wood in which we could plainly see the Fenians. We had begun to climb the fence into this cleared field, and indeed some of us were already there, when we heard the bugle sounding the retire. Whitney gave the word to us, and called back those who had crossed the fence. When we turned our backs on the Fenians, we had not the faintest suspicion of defeat. We had, up to the moment when we got the order to retire, steadily driven the Fenians before us, but we could see them in greatly superior numbersthere were only twenty-eight of us. We knew we had lost touch with our supports, and we supposed we were merely falling back to restore communication with them. Whitney had already sent back a sergeant to see what had become of the rest of the command and to ask for orders, but he had not returned, and we thought the bugle was a summons to us to rejoin our comrades, of whose success no doubts had entered our minds. All the same we soon found out the astonishing difference on the mental, moral and physical condition of the soldier under fire which is produced by the simple rotation of his body through an angle of 180. The first sensation was of intense disgust at having to turn our backs on the enemy; the second the acute realization that we had had no breakfast that morning, and no supper nor sleep the night before, and that we were nearly dead beat. Up till that moment the thought of fatigue had never occurred to us, and we had felt as fresh as paint. Now it seemed as if it was impossible to drag one leg after the other. But then we felt that it would not do to be left behind, for there were the Fenians. Upon them our change of position had had a precisely opposite effect, and they followed us cheerfully with much shooting. When we reached the cross road a number of us stopped, and kneeling behind the fence opened a brisk fire upon the enemy, and for a time checked their advance. But there were too many of them and their fire was too fatal. Mackenzie had fallen before the retreat began, shot through the heart, and now others were dropping fast. About this time Tempest and Newburn were killed, and Vandersmissen, Paul, Kingsford and Patterson were wounded. In the cross road Tempest was next to me. Just after firing a shot he rose to his feet. He was a very tall fellow, and presented a conspicuous mark above the fence. Next moment I heard the sound of a dull, heavy blow, and saw him fall forward on his face. I ran to his side and found a small, round hole in his forehead. He had been shot through the head, and the bullet, after penetrating the brain, had broken the bone at the back of the skull. Of course he died instantly. As soon as I saw that nothing more could be done for him, I looked about me and found that I was alone on the road. A little farther to the right was a brick house and orchard, and as this promised better cover than the open field, I made for it. It stood at the crossing of this road with the Ridge road, along which we had been marching before the fight, and when I reached it I saw a body of troops in the orchard, which, from their dark clothes, I took to be the Queen's Own. I hastened to join them, but they turned out to be a column of Fenians, who saluted me with a volley. An attempt to fire my rifle proved that it was empty, and while in the act of reloading I was surrounded and made prisoner. I was placed in the brick house, under charge of a guard. As soon as I was there, the fatigue, which had been forgotten during the stand in the road, returned with redoubled force, and I lay down on a mattress completely exhausted. After a while, however, a Fenian came in, bleeding freely from a wound in the ankle. I roused up and tied it up with a bandage torn from a sheet. My success in this simple, surgical operation at once established cordial relations between myself and my captors. They got me a drink of water, which greatly refreshed me, and we smoked a social pipe together. Presently a mounted officer rode up and ordered us to proceed to the front. We set off, a Fenian, with bayonet fixed, marching on each side of me. The sight of the killed and wounded whom we passed lying in the dusty road beneath the blazing June sun, was sad indeed. At a roadside tavern, called the "Smugglers' Home," we halted, and here I found Private Junor, of the University Company, in his shirt sleeves, carrying a pail of water for the wounded, several of whom, among them Ensign Fahey, of the Queen's Own, and Lieutenant Routh, of the 13th, were lying on the floor of the bar-room. After a few words with them we were again ordered to march. Junor and two other prisoners, one of Trinity College Company, and one of the 13th, were added to our party. At my request, Junor and I were allowed to walk together. At the village of Ridgeway we found the Fenians resting after the fight. Their conduct was perfectly orderly. There was no plundering, though the village was entirely at their mercy. A coloured man, who attempted to steal some articles from the store, was stopped by an officer, who placed a revolver at his head and sternly ordered him out, threatening to blow his brains out if he caught him there again. There was a tavern in the village, but not a man touched a drop of liquor. They told me that their orders were strict against drinking, and against stealing_anything, except food and horses. These orders, I can testify from personal observation, were rigidly obeyed. They gave me half a loaf of bread, which was very welcome, and after about an hour's rest we fell in again, and turning our backs on Ridgeway, set out in retreat for Fort Erie, along the Garrison road. The Fenians' treatment of myself and the other prisoners was kind and considerate in the extreme. The day was hot, and the road dusty. The Fenians observed the most perfect discipline. At intervals, when we came to a wayside house, they asked for water, and on these occasions they always gave us the first drink. One woman in response to their request for water brought out a pail of buttermilk, which they handed to me. That drink of buttermilk will always live in my memory as the most delicious draught I ever had. Our guards conversed with us, by the way, in the most friendly manner, and took us freely into their confidence. They thought that the Canadian people would gladly welcome them as deliverers, and they thought that the regular troops would not fight against them. "Quaybec'll be the hardest nut for us to crack," said one of them. 'Sure, the French 'll burn that for us," cheerfully rejoined his comrade. Their uniform consisted of a green shirt, with brass buttons, dark trousers, a black, soft felt hat, with wide brim. Over their shirts they wore dark civilian coats which served the purpose of overcoats, and which had been used to conceal their uniform before crossing the river. It was owing to this fact that the general impression prevailed that the Fenians were not in uniform. Most of the superior officers wore the dress proper to the rank they had held in the American army during the Civil War. The officer commanding our escort, who had the commission of Captain in the army of the Irish Republic, was a striking-looking figure. He was about fifty years of age, with a long, iron-grey beard. He had served as a sergeant in the Southern army during the war, and had walked all the way from Tennessee to take part in the raid, joining the Fenians just in time for the battle. He wore his old regulation kepi, a long black frock coat, with a belt outside, in which was stuck a sword without a scabbard. He was full of enthusiasm for the cause of Ireland, and of fierce hatred against the English. But to us, whom the fortune of war had made his prisoners, his conduct was all gentleness and bonhomie. Towards evening we neared Fort Erie, and a mounted officer came up to us with the order, "Prisoners and baggage to the rear!" We were halted at the roadside and allowed all the column to pass us. The escort, who knew from this order that another fight was expected, became greatly excited, and cursed the ill-luck which condemned them to inactivity. Thanks to their eagerness to see what was going on, I had an excellent opportunity of watching the action that followed; for as soon as the troops had all marched past, they led us up to a plateau, where we had a clear view of the whole affair. The road here slopes down between high banks to the river. One division of the Fenians continued their march down this road till it reached another road, which runs along the river bank. Here they turned to the left and marched straight for the village of Fort Erie, which we could plainly see, with the Stars and Stripes flying from the house of the American Consul. Across the river was the town of Black Rock, and there the shore was crowded with spectators. Another division of the Fenians left the road where we were, and advanced in line across the fields in a direction parallel to that of the column which was marching by the river road. The high banks soon hid the river column from our sight, but in a short time the report of musketry told us that it had gone into action. Who the defenders were or what their strength was, we did not then know; but we afterwards learned that fifty-four men of the Welland Field Battery, acting as infantry, and eighteen men of the Dunnville Naval Company, were holding the place. For a while the firing was kept up smartly, but all this time the second division was marching across the fields above the town, and now they wheeled to the right and thus took the defenders on the flank. They advanced rapidly, firing as they went. In the village there was at first a continuous roar of musketry, which gradually slackened. There were a few dropping shots which soon ceased altogether. The smoke drifted away; and Fort Erie was in the hands of the enemy. The result of the conflict was hailed with shouts of triumph from the crowds of spectators at Black Rock. We were then marched down to the river side. Here we met General O'Neil, the Fenian Commander. He told us that his men were old soldiers and knew how to treat prisoners, and that we should have no cause to complain, unless any of his men were hanged by the Canadians, in which case he promised he would shoot ten of us for every Fenian hanged. He then stopped at a roadside tavern and ordered a glass of beer for each of us, for which he paid. We were then marched together with a number of the Welland Field Battery, who had been taken prisoners at Fort Erie, to the old Fort, which is a ruin standing on the river bank. The Fenians established guards, lit fires, and set about cooking their supper. To each of us they gave a slice of raw pork, a biscuit, and a drink of water. The day had been hot. The night was clear and very cold, too cold for much sleep. About two o'clock in the morning we were aroused and marched down to the wharf. There we saw a large body of Fenians in the act of embarking on a great scow. When the last man embarked, O'Neil told us we were free. He then shook hands, and said good-bye, adding that he would be back soon with a larger force. I told him he would find us better prepared next time; and so ended my adventures as a Prisoner of War. Wm. Hodgson Ellis. DANTE'S DIVINE COMEDY. II-THE PURGATORIO. By Professor William Clark. THE HE comparison of one work of art with another is never quite profitable, although it is sometimes almost unavoidable. It has been largely practiced in connection with the different parts of Dante's great poem. To a large class of readers the Inferno seems to make a special appeal; to others the Paradiso. We believe, however, that in personal and religious interest, no part of the poem comes nearer to human experience than the Purgatorio. As has already been remarked, the Inferno is a hollow inverted cone, the passage of which becomes more difficult as we descend. The Purgatorio is a mountain thrust out from the earth by the formation of the Inferno within; and on this the ascent ever grows easier. Both are places of suffering; but the one has the suffering of hopeless misery which hardens and destroys, the other the suffering of hope and joy, which purifies, elevates and prepares for a better and higher life. The reason in each case is plain. The one is a state of impenitence and unbelief which shuts out every gracious influence; the other a state of lowliness, penitence and love which opens the soul to every higher power. In the Inferno we see the operation and consequences of different forms of evil: in the Purgatorio the principle of sin is purged away. There are nine circles in both, and both have a vestibule; but in the Inferno it is not reckoned one of the nine circles. It is so reckoned in the Purgatorio. Another difference should be noted. The division in the Inferno is a circle (cerchio): in the Purgatorio it is a terrace or cornice (balzo, precipice). The circles are concentric: the ascent in the Purgatorio is by a spiral path. In the vestibule of the Purgatorio are those who delayed their repentance to the last. On the summit of the mountain is the earthly paradise, lost in Adam, recovered by the second Adam, and entered by those who have passed through cleansing fires. Between those two extremes are seven terraces in which the seven cardinal sins are cleansed away. There is another difference. In descending through the Inferno we find the sins become more heinous: in ascending the mount of purification they become lighter. For example, sensuality is the first sin punished in the Inferno: it is the last cleansed in the Purgatorio. Instead of the horrid Charon, the ferryman of hell, there is an angel in a boat with no other sail than the angel's wings. The opening lines of the poem declare the change which has taken place: "O'er better waves to speed her rapid course |