The infantry pressed forward, with a clash of bayonets, and a thronging of regiments, equipages, and arms; cavalry officers made their way about with orders, the inhabitants and the military servants accompanying the baggage wept and besought to be permitted to cross, while the artillery, in haste to get off, forced their way to the bay with a thunder of wheels. In spite of the diversions created by the varied and anxious demands on their attention, the instinct of self-preservation and the desire to escape as speedily as possible from that dread place of death were present in every soul. This instinct existed also in a soldier mortally wounded, who lay among the five hundred other wounded, upon the stone pavement of the Pavlovsky quay, and prayed God to send death; and in the militia-man, who with his last remaining strength pressed into the compact throng, in order to make way for a general who rode by, and in the general in charge of the transportation, who was engaged in restraining the haste of the soldiers, and in the sailor, who had become entangled in the moving battalion, and who, crushed by the surging throng, had lost his breath, and in the wounded officer, who was being borne along in a litter by four soldiers, who, stopped by the crowd, had placed him on the ground by the Nikolaevsky battery, and in the artillery-man, who had served his gun for sixteen years, and who, at his superior's command, to him incomprehensible, to throw overboard the guns, had, with the aid of his comrades, sent them over the steep bank into the bay; and in the men of the fleet, who had just closed the port-holes of the ships, and had rowed lustily away in their boats. On stepping upon the further end of the bridge, nearly every soldier pulled off his cap and crossed himself. But behind this instinct there was another, oppressive and far deeper, existing along with it; this was a feeling which resembled repentance, shame, and hatred. Almost every soldier, as he gazed on abandoned Sevastopol, from the northern shore, sighed with inexpressible bitterness of heart, and menaced the foe. PUBLICATIONS OF THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO., 13 ASTOR PLACE, N.Y. =American Histories for Youth.= By JACOB ABBOTT. In eight volumes, each volume complete in itself. Illustrated by Darley, Chapin, Herrick, Perkins, Parsons, Beaulieu, and others. 12mo, cloth, 4 vols., 2 vols, in one $6.00 =Adventure Library.= Fully illustrated. New and uniform style of binding. 5 vols., 12mo 7.50 =Anna Karenina.= A novel. By Count LYOF N. TOLSTOI. Translated by NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. 12mo 1.75 =At Home and in War.= Reminiscences and anecdotes of the Turko-Russian War, etc., by Col. ALEXANDER V. VERESTCHAGIN. Authorized translation from the Russian by ISABEL F. HAPGOOD. 12mo, illustrated, with portraits 1.75