multitude gave way before the onset of disciplined valour. No mob attacked by regular soldiers was ever more completely routed. The little band of Frenchmen, who alone ventured to confront the English, were swept down the stream of fugitives. In an hour the forces of Surajah Dowlah were dispersed, never to reassemble. Only five hundred of the vanquished were slain. But their camp, their guns, their baggage, innumerable wagons, innumerable cattle, remained in the power of the conquerors. With the loss of twenty-two soldiers killed and fifty wounded, Clive had scattered an army of nearly sixty thousand men, and subdued an empire larger and more populous than Great Britain.

Meer Jaffier had given no assistance to the English during the action. But as soon as he saw the fate of the day was decided, he drew off his division of the army, and, when the battle was over, sent his congratulations to his ally. The next morning he repaired to the English quarters, not a little uneasy as to the reception which awaited him there. But .his apprehensions were speedily removed. Clive came forward to meet him, embraced him, saluted him as Nabob of the three great provinces of Bengal, Bahar, and Orissa, listened graciously to his apologies, and advised him to march without delay to Moorshedabad.

Surajah Dowlah had fled from the field of battle with all the speed with which a fleet camel could carry him, and arrived at Moorshedabad in little more than twenty-four hours. There he called his coun

cillors round him. The wisest advised him to put himself into the hands of the English, from whom he had nothing worse to fear than deposition and confinement. But he attributed this suggestion to treachery. Others urged him to try the chance of war again. He approved the advice, and issued orders accordingly. But he wanted spirit to adhere even during one day to a manly resolution. He learned that Meer Jaffier had arrived, and his terrors became insupportable. Disguised in a mean dress, with a casket of jewels in his hand, he let himself down at night from a window of his palace, and, accompanied by only two attendants, embarked on the river for Patna.

From "Essays" (Lord Clive), by MACAULAY.

13. ON A CELEBRATED EVENT IN ANCIENT

HISTORY.

A Roman master stands on Grecian ground,
And to the people at the Isthmian Games
Assembled he, by a herald's voice, proclaims
THE LIBERTY OF GREECE. The words rebound
Until all voices in one voice are drowned;
Glad acclamation by which air was rent!
And birds, high flying in the element,
Dropped to the earth, astonished at the sound!
Yet were the thoughtful grieved, and still that voice
Haunts, with sad echoes, musing Fancy's ear.
Ah that a conqueror's words should be so dear!
Ah that a boon could shed such rapturous joys!
A gift of that which is not to be given

By all the blended powers of earth and heaven.

WORDSWORTH.

14. THE COMBAT.

Gandalin and his companions remained beside the chapel, looking after Amadis as he rode so fast away; then Gandalin, who was passionately weeping, cried out, "I will follow and carry his arms to him, although he hath forbidden me!" "And I," quoth Durin," will bear you company for this night." So they left Ysanjo, and getting to horse rode after him, coasting here and there about the wood, till fortune brought them so near the place where he was lying that his horse scented theirs, and began to neigh. Then they knew that he was near, and Gandalin alighted, and went quietly through the shrubs till he saw his master sleeping by the fountain. The squire then took his horse and led it where he had left Durin; and taking off the bridles from all the horses, that they might browse the green boughs, they remained still. It was not long before Amadis awoke, for his sleep was restless. He rose, and looked round: the moon was almost down, but it was yet some time till day. Then he lay down again, and broke out into pitiful lamentations for his evil fortune.

The two squires heard all he said, and were greatly moved thereat, yet durst they not appear before him. Presently there came up a knight singing along the way, and when he was near the place where Amadis lay, he exclaimed, "Love, Love, I thank thee for exalting me above all other knights-giving me good first, and better afterwards. You made me affect the fair Queen Sardamira, thinking to secure her heart

by the honour which I should bear away from this land; and now, for my greater happiness, you make me love the daughter of the greatest king in the world, the fair Oriana, who hath no peer on earth: you make me love her, and you give me strength to serve her." Saying this, he drew from the wayside to a great tree, whereunder he meant to wait for the daybreak. Then said Gandalin to his comrade, “Stay here while I go see what Amadis will do."

He went towards the fountain, but Amadis had risen, and was seeking his horse; and seeing Gandalin dimly in the night, he cried out, "Who goes there? tell me, I beseech thee."-" Gandalin, sir! who is going to bring you your horse."-"Who bade thee follow me against my command? You have displeased Give me my horse and go thy way, and tarry not here, unless thou wouldst have me slay thee and myself."- 'Sir," cried Gandalin, "no more of this. Did you hear the foolish words of a knight hard by?" And this he said to make him angry, that he might forget his displeasure for a while. Amadis answered, "I heard him, and therefore want my horse to depart."

me.

-"How is this all you will do?"- "What wouldst thou more?"—"That you should fight with him, and make him know his folly."—" Fool that thou art! I have neither heart, nor strength, nor spirit, having lost all in losing her from whom all came. She gave me courage, and hath taken it away; the most caitiff knight in Great Britain might slay me now.""Sir," said Gandalin, "speak lower, that Durin may not hear this, for he has heard all that the knight