exploits, the glory of their companions in arms. In the evening the rain somewhat subsided, and the soldiers loaded anew their muskets. General Kaminski, my friend and school-fellow, arrived at head quarters; and while we were walking in the court, and speaking of the morrow, blending in our conversation the recollection of the happy days of our youth, we saw a flock of ravens flying on our right. “Do you remember your Livy?” said he to me, “these ravens are on our right, it is a bad omen.”—“It would be so for the Romans,” said I, “but not for us—you will see, that, although it seems impossible, we shall beat the Muscovites.”—“I think so too,” replied he.
The day of the 9th of October was as beautiful, as those which preceded it were rainy. Very early in the morning, Colonel Krzycki brought two regiments detached from the camp of Warsaw. The soldiers, dying from hunger and fatigue, were in low spirits, but the animating language of the officers, and some glasses of brandy, soon re-
