There, a council of war was called, and it was debated whether they should make a stand there or not. The conclusion was that they should not, but should abandon the sacred city--the Jerusalem of Russia--to the enemy, and, there can now be little doubt, to the flames. Rostopchin, the governor of the city, had for some time been preparing for the grand catastrophe. Under pretence of pouring down liquid fire on the French from a monster balloon, he had employed great numbers of women in making such a balloon, and men in preparing fireworks and combustibles--the accumulation of the latter being his real object. On the 14th of September the Russian army filed through the streets of their beloved but doomed city, with sad looks, furled banners, and silent drums, and went out at the Kolomna gate. The population followed them. Rostopschin had encouraged vast numbers already to transplant all their wealth and stores from the place, and, as his last act, he called up two prisoners--a Russian traitor, and a Frenchman who had dropped hostile expressions. The Russian he ordered, with the consent of the culprit's own father, to be put to death; the Frenchman he set at liberty, telling him to go to Buonaparte and say that but one traitor had been found in Russia, and him he had seen cut to pieces. Rostopschin then mounted his horse and rode after his countrymen, having first ordered all the gaols to be set open, and their wretched inhabitants to be allowed to make their escape. On the 14th of September the French army came in sight of Moscow, and the soldiers, worn down and miserable with their long and severe march, shouted with joy, "Moscow! Moscow!" They rushed up the hill called the Mount of Salvation, because there the natives coming in full view of the city kneel and cross themselves. There the splendid spectacle of the widely-spread ancient capital lay before their eyes, with its spires of thirty churches, its palaces of Eastern architecture, and its copper domes glittering in the sun. Interspersed were beautiful gardens, and masses of noble trees, and the gigantic palace of the Kremlin rising above in colossal bulk. All were struck with admiration of the place which had so long been the goal of their wishes. Napoleon himself sat on his horse surveying it, and exclaimed, "Behold at last that celebrated city!" But he immediately added, in an under-tone, "It was full time!" He expected to see trains of nobles come out to throw themselves at his feet and offer submission; but no one appeared, and not a sign of life presented itself, no smoke from a single chimney, not a man on the walls. It looked like a city of the dead. The mystery was soon solved by Murat, who had pushed forward, sending word that the whole population had abandoned Moscow! Two hundred and fifty thousand people had forsaken their home in a mass! The tidings struck the invader with wonder and foreboding; but he added, smiling grimly,