"Forcibly mustering my spirits," says he, "I ordered my men to carry the body to the fire. There we examined it more closely, and with extreme anxiety I sought to ascertain whether there was any hope left of reviving her. Vain hope! It was several hours since her spirit had departed; the ball of one of our riflemen had gone through her heart. From the small red wound blood was still oozing in a single drop, which I carefully caught in my handkerchief to be preserved as a relic. "My only consolation was that the deceased could not have suffered long; that she must have expired the very moment she was struck. Those pure, noble, still wondrous beautiful features; on her brow dwelt peace and composure, and the lips almost smiled. There she lay, as if in tranquil slumber, and yet those eyes were never more to open--those lips never more to utter noble sentiments or words of kindness. "My hussars were visibly affected, and thought it a pity that one so young and so beautiful should die so early. Many of them who had been with me on our first march through Hungary for two days together at St. ----'s mansion, instantly recognised Helene, and doubly lamented her death, because she had shown such kindness to them." They dug a deep grave beneath the frozen snow. "The corpse, in full uniform; the _holpack_, with plume of glistening heron's feathers on her head, the light Turkish sabre by her side, was then carefully wrapped in a clean large blanket which we had with us, and so deposited in the grave, which we filled up again with earth. Then regardless of caution, I had a full salute fired with pistols over the grave. I have preserved a small gold ring and a lock of her hair for a memorial." The Baron, it should be added, plainly tells the reader that he was very nearly, if not quite, over head and ears in love with the beautiful Helene. One of the hussars, who could do carpenter's work, made a cross of two young, white maple trees, which was placed over the heroine's grave. * * * * * The Garde Mobile (which, as an extra battalion to the National Guard, did good service to the people in '48,) when it was disbanded, proved to be half composed of Parisian women and girls. Louisa Battistati, a heroine of the Lombardian Revolution, was a native of Stradella, in Sardinia, and a mantua-maker by trade. She was dwelling in Milan, following this business, when the five days' Revolution broke out. On Sunday, the 10th March, 1848, Louisa attacked and disarmed an Austrian cavalry soldier, although he carried a carbine. At the head of a valiant band of young women, she now took up her station at the Poppietti bridge, and defended it all through the 20th, the 21st and the 22nd. At every shot from her musket a Croat fell dead. * * * * *