On the night after the battle of Borodino, Count Platoff, we were told, bivouacked on the field, in front of the position originally occupied by the Russians[1], and on the next day he covered their retreat with his Cossacks. One of the Princes of Hesse Philipsthal, an uncommonly handsome young man, who had volunteered to act as an aid-de-camp of his, had his leg shot away close to his side. Amputation was immediately performed above the middle of his thigh; he was laid on a peasant's cart, and carried 350 versts almost without stopping. However, he recovered perfectly, and petitioned the Emperor to be allowed to wear ever after the Cossack uniform. We saw him in it at Paris, going on crutches, but regretting in strong terms that he was to see no more fighting. On the day before the French entered Moscow, Count Platoff, and some other officers, from one of whom we had this anecdote, breakfasted with Count Rostapchin at his villa in the vicinity of the town, which it had been the delight of his life to cultivate and adorn. After breakfast, Count Rostapchin assembled his servants and retainers; and after saying that he hoped his son and latest descendants would always be willing to make a similar sacrifice for the good of their country, he took a torch, set fire to the building with his own hands, and waited until it was consumed. He then rode into the town to superintend the destruction of some warehouses full of clothes, of a number of carts, and of other things which might be useful to the enemy. But he did not, as we were assured by his son, whom we met at Paris, order the destruction of the town. The French, enraged at the loss of what was most valuable to them, according to the uniform account of the Russians, set fire in a deliberate and methodical manner to the different streets. It is but justice to say, however, that French officers, who had been at Moscow, denied the truth of the latter part of this statement. * * * The Russian troops in the neighbourhood of Paris were under the immediate command of General Count Miloradovitch, a man of large property, and unbounded generosity, and an enthusiast in his profession. He had been in the habit of always making the troops under his command some kind of present on his birth-day. During the retreat of the French from Moscow, this day came round when he was not quite prepared for it. "I have no money here," said he to his soldiers; "but yonder," pointing to a French column, "is a present worthy of you and of me." This address was a prelude to one of the most successful attacks, made during the pursuit, on the French rear-guard.