a century was followed by the battle of St. Jacob in 1444, when 1600 Swiss met a predatory invasion of the French, a corps of 8000 horse and a large detachment of infantry, in all numbering over 20,000, called Armagnacs, the disbanded mercenaries of the English war, led by the Dauphin, afterwards Louis XI. Though they might have retreated without loss, the Swiss determined rather to perish on the spot, and fought with heroic fury, tearing the enemy’s arrows from their wounds to send them back dripping with blood. Their valor and terrible sacrifice never were surpassed. The Dauphin lost 6000 men; and of the 1600 Swiss, only ten lived to tell the tale, and they were immediately proscribed throughout Switzerland for having deserted their comrades. A monument is erected near the Birs, on the battle-field, consisting of a figure of Helvetia at the top with four dying soldiers on the pedestal, with the inscription: “Our souls to God, our bodies to the enemy.” At Morgarten, in 1315, 1300 Swiss routed Leopold’s army of over 20,000, killing 9000, when “There were songs and festal fires On the soaring Alps that night, When children sprung to greet their sires From the wild Morgarten fight.” Then there is the battle fought near Wessen, in the Canton of Glarus, where 350 Swiss attacked 8000 Austrians and gained the field. Eleven pillars are erected on the field of battle to mark the places where the Swiss rallied, for history says they were repulsed ten times, but, rallying the eleventh, broke the enemies’ line and put them to flight with great slaughter. This victory is celebrated every year; the people, in procession, fall upon their knees at each pillar, sing a _Kyrie_ and thank God for so signal a victory. When they come to the last pillar, one of their orators makes a eulogy of the three hundred and fifty, and, when he has finished, reads over a list of their names,--just as the Spartans caused the names of their three hundred to be cut in brass, to transmit their memories to posterity. There are, in addition, such duels of individual valor recorded as men fighting when mortally wounded, like Fontana, of Grisons, who cried out, “Do not stop for my fall, it is but one man the less;” or like John Walla, of Glarus, who met alone and put to flight thirty horsemen. These events, and many others well authenticated and unhesitatingly accepted in Swiss history, sound infinitely more of knight-errantry than the story of Tell.