they could loosen over the bodies, and the chaplain read prayers at last, after a ‘week’s preparation’ and suspense, ‘snow to snow, and ice to ice.’  That night a herd of wolves came prowling by, and carried the corporal and drummer along with them.  The fifer—­an Irish rascal—­was laughing heartily the whole week; and it was he set up the corporal’s claim to the deep grave, to have his joke out.  When all was over, the sergeant reported him to me, for bragging ’that he could have buried them six feet deep himself in two hours, and have covered them up so nately after, that the devil couldn’t stick a tooth in them; but he had kept the secret to be revenged of the corporal, who had ‘listed him one day,’ and of the drummer who had ‘flogged him.’  ‘Please your honour,’ said he, when called before me, ’I was sartain you wished to find work for us this cowld weather, and it wouldn’t become me to say what your honour knew as well as myself—­that a rousing fire would soften any frost; and sure, only I know you compassionated the poor starving wolves, I’d have thrown a few buckets of water through the grave-stones, and clinched ’em as tight as the bars of Newgate.’”

The fertilizing properties of an individual in the chemical stage of his existence, seem only to have been fully recognised since the memorable battle of Waterloo; the fields of which now annually wave with luxuriant corn-crops, unequalled in the annals of “the old prize-fighting ground of Flanders.”  I have no doubt, however, that the cerealia of La Belle Alliance would have been much more nutritive if the top-dressing which the plain received during the three days of June, 1815, had not been robbed of its stamina by London dentists, who carried off the soldiers’ teeth in hogsheads; and by Yorkshire bone-grubbers, who freighted several transports with the skeletons of regiments of troopers, as well as troop-horses, to be ground to dust in Kingston-upon-Hull, and drilled with turnip seed in the chalky districts of the North and West Ridings of Yorkshire.  The corn of Waterloo is thus cheated of its phosphate of lime; but the spirits of Cyrus the Great and Numa the Wise, who had a fair knowledge of the fructifying capabilities of the “human form divine,” must rejoice in beholding how effectually the fertilizing dust pushes the young Globes, Swedes, and Tankards into their rough leaves, that bid defiance to that voracious “Yorkshire bite” the turnip fly.

* * * * *

BIRTH SONG.

  ANGEL OF WELCOME.

  Hail, new-waked atom of the Eternal Whole,
  Young voyager upon Time’s rapid river! 
  Hail to thee, Human Soul,
  Hail, and for ever!

  CHORUS OF CHERUBIM.