Napoleon, with all his strength of mind, was superstitious; having some peculiar notions about fate, and destiny, and stars and fortune—as though these imaginary beings had any power to control the laws of Nature, or interfere between cause and effect, whether in the moral or physical world. It is not improbable that, when, in the night of the 15th October, Napoleon saw three “DEATH-ROCKETS” rise from the southern horizon, streaming their pale but brilliant light high through the Heavens—and, when, immediately afterwards, he beheld four blood-red meteors springing up far far to the northward, indicating too plainly that the signal from the grand Austro-Russian army in the South was answered by the Swedo-Prussian in the North, his moral courage may have experienced a momentary depression, and his superstition an alarm! There was little time, however, for reflection. Action, action was soon required. At the dawn of day the Austro-Russian army attacked the whole southern front of the French position with great fury but no success. Six desperate attempts were reiterated, one after the other—but all failed! This was discouraging enough—worse remained behind. The moment of exhaustion among the allied troops was seized upon by Napoleon, who, by one gigantic effort, pierced and penetrated the very centre of the allied line, while Murat, Maubourg, and Kellerman, dashed through the gap with the whole of the cavalry! At this moment of frightful peril, when the torrent of French troops was pouring through the fatal breach with irresistible impetuosity, shouting and exulting in the successful exploit, ALEXANDER called to his faithful Cossack guards, and pointing to the column of French cavalry that was thundering forward in the rear of the allies, addressed a few, and but a few words to them—probably not dissimilar from those of our own poet, at another terrific combat— ——on ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave— Wave, Cossacks! all your banners wave! And charge with all your chivalry! The valorous Pulk right well fulfilled the emperor’s order. The “furious Huns” sprang, like tigers, on the “fiery Franks,” and not only charged and checked the headlong torrent, but rolled back the dense mass of cavalry at the point of their spears, with destructive carnage, through the opening by which it had penetrated the Austro-Russian line. Thus, at the moment when all appeared lost for the allies, a handful of semi-savages from the banks of the Don overwhelmed the finest body of French horse that ever paraded on the banks of the Seine—and that with the King of Naples at its head!