lon was taken. The young lieutenant-colonel
distinguished himself greatly in this his first real battle. His horse
was shot under him, and he was wounded with a bayonet thrust in the
thigh; but he kept his men in place, and finally advancing they
succeeded in covering both the town and the fleet in the sea. When the
fighting was over the general in command wrote to Paris: "I have no
words to describe the merit of Bonaparte; much science, as much
intelligence, and too much bravery. This is but a feeble sketch of this
rare officer, and it is for you, ministers, to consecrate him to the
glory of the Republic."

Such was the young Napoleon at twenty-three. Almost immediately he was
made general of brigade, and was looked upon as one of the coming
defenders of the French Republic.

He went to Paris, was loaded with honors, and given post after post in
the service of his country. For a time he proved a great defender of his
people, for a time he served the Republic as no other man could; but
when defense was no longer needed he could not sheathe his sword, he had
to use it for attack whether the cause were just or not. As he won
victory after victory and tasted power he discarded even the Republic
that had made him, and placed himself upon the throne as Emperor.

That same love of power which had made him was also his undoing. He
could not rest content with what he had. As he had predicted to Monsieur
Pichegru that afternoon at Brienne he would have his own way, and very
much as he had treated his schoolfellows there he later grew to treat
the nations of Europe. As a result they, like his playfellows, combined
against him, and sent him down finally among the privates.

XV

Walter Scott

The Boy of the Canongate: 1771-1832

The business office of a Scotch solicitor is not an especially cheerful
place at any time, and the interior of such a room looked particularly
cheerless on a late winter afternoon in Edinburgh in 1786. A boy of
fifteen sat on a high stool at an old oak desk, and watched the snow
falling in the street. Occasionally he could see people passing the
windows: men and women wrapped to their ears in plaid shawls, for the
wind whistled down the street so loudly that the boy could hear it, and
the cold was bitter.

The boy looked through the window until he almost felt the chill
himself, and then, to keep warm, held his head in his hands and fastened
his eyes on the big, heavy-leaved book in front