sion of the Strahöw gate, for the purpose of admitting the cavalry. The guard at this important post were faithful to their trust, and fired on the Swedes, when they gave no answer to their challenge. But this slender band was soon cut to pieces by the assailants, with the exception of two persons: one of whom, an ensign, named Przichowsky, hurried toward the bridge as fast as a dangerous wound would permit, with a view to rouse the Old city to a sense of its imminent peril. In the meantime, the Strahöw gate was hewn and battered into fragments; and Königsmark, with his troopers, entered and drew up in the palace square. Hence he instantly despatched Odowalsky, and a body of picked troops, with orders to occupy the bridge, and secure a passage into the Old city for the soldiers then engaged in making a lodgement in the royal palace, and in firing at such of the alarmed population as ventured to show themselves even at a window. Odowalsky and his men promptly obeyed these instructions, and pushed forward, dealing death on those terrified citizens who happened to appear on their course. Their career was arrested for a time, in the open place called the Ring of the Lesser city. There, a party of Imperialists had rallied, and, although much inferior in numerical force, maintained an obstinate defence that seasonably favoured the object of Przichowsky, who. continued to stagger onward, almost fainting from loss of blood. At length he gained the bridge-tower; but as he passed through the archway, he heard the Swedes marching in double quick time down the street of the Jesuits, leading directly to the tete-du-pont. With redoubled efforts, and a fervent invocation of the stone saints he passed upon the battlements; the brave and patriotic ensign attained the centre of the bridge just as the enemy arrived at the first tower. Bullets whistled around him-the tramp of the foe sounded nearer and nearer feeling that in a single moment all would be lost or gained, he summoned his whole remaining energies-sprang forward-reached the archway-tottered into the guard-house-called out to the sentinels "Save the Old city-the Swedes are on the bridge!"—and fell senseless at their feet. The city guards had heard the firing in the Hradschin and the Lesser city, but attributed the reports to the discharges of fire-works in the palace gardens. The tower gate was now closed, well manned, and so ably defended, that Odowalsky was obliged to retreat; nor during a siege of many months could the Swedes, though superior in artillery, discipline, and numbers, prevail against the heroic resolution displayed by the nobles, garrison, and citizens of Prague, in defence of their ancient metropolis. The gallant High-Burg-Graf, though a veteran of seventy years, fought with youthful courage against an overwhelming force. He was wounded and taken prisoner in the Hradschin palace. The Lesser city and the royal and other palaces on that side the river were ransacked and plundered. The Swedish leaders occupied the most distinguished houses during the term of several months, employed in besieging the Old and New cities, which sustained and repulsed various trying assaults. Affairs at last began to look unfavourably for the besiegers. Odowalsky was shot in leading a storming party. The Imperial troops were approaching in considerable strength to raise the siege, and the Swedes, wearied and harassed by the indefatigable hardihood of the citizens, and disheartened by this intelligence, withdrew during the night. The Imperialists appeared shortly afterwards, and in a few months, a war, which for thirty years had made Germany a field of ruin and blood, was finally brought to a close. The gallant man to whom Prague owed so much, recovered of his wounds, to be rewarded by the merited honour and admiration of his sovereign and his country. He rose to distinction in his profession, and those who may choose to consult the annals of a subsequent period, will find that the name of Przichowsky ranks among the brightest in the historical records of Bohemia. 218 THE CONSCRIPT. O the day of our bridal I knew would never come, THE MOUNTAIN MAID. AT the time when a fortunate conqueror, from the throne to which Victory had raised him, gave laws to obedient nations, and at the period when Spanish firmness began to break the chains of military despotism, Camillo, a youth of Turin, was called to run the career of arms. From the dreaded urn containing the names of the Turinese youth, his name was drawn amongst the first. His father, who possessed a small house in Turin, and a vineyard opposite to Moncalieri, had given all his little wealth, and had even plunged himself in debt, to save his eldest son from the perils of war by sending a substitute to gather cypress or laurels in his stead. He could not renew the sacrifice for his second son, without involving his family in utter ruin. Camillo would not relinquish the hope that he might not be forced to carry arms, because the then existing laws exempted any one who had a brother already with the army, and he expected, through the influence of friends and of gold, to avoid the necessity of marching with the soldiers. Relying on this expectation, he had devoted himself to the sciences, and the day was approaching on which he hoped to obtain the honours of learning in the University of Turin. But the military laws becoming more rigid, as new victims were required for insatiable war, his dreams of forensic eminence, and peaceful enjoyment, were painfully broken. He had a maternal uncle, a rich merchant, who loved him, but who loving still more devotedly the wealth he had amassed during a life of labour and privation, could not consent to expend the sum necessary for procuring a substitute to serve in his place; Camillo, therefore, was compelled to enter the bloody lists of Mars. He grieved for himself, for, although naturally brave, he wished rather to be crowned with the olive than the laurel, and to form in peace the pride and support of his family; but he grieved still more for his cousin Adelaide, a charming and virtuous girl, to whom he had plighted his faith. The trumpet had given the signal for departure, and already Camillo, with his haversack on his shoulder, journeyed along with his companions to Moncenisio. It was at this time the custom of the conscripts of the Po, to leave Turin to the sound of martial instruments, in order that their inspiring notes might drown the sighs of relatives and friends on parting with those they loved, and inflame with generous ardour the youthful soldiers. The military music accompanied them till their arrival at the Tesoriera, about a mile distant from |