The Arkansas Banner

Scene from the War in Hungary.

An Austrian officer relates the following episode in the war:

The leader of this corps, a man of tall, elegant figure, in the rich dress of a magnate, mounted on a superb, spirited, gray stallion, which he managed with great dexterity, was indefatigable in always rallying his men, and leading them back against our infantry. He galloped to and fro with as much unconcern as if the balls whizzing around him were but snowballs, continually flourishing his glistening blade. The figure of the rider seemed to be well known to me, but I could not distinguish his features as we were drawn up in rear of our column of infantry, at the distance of some hundred paces from him. Twice he had escaped unhurt the fire of our infantry, when, as I have already mentioned, some guns, which had, meanwhile, come up, began to fire with grape. He seemed not to heed the first discharge. For I saw him, still brisk and animated as ever, galloping about at the head of his men. The second must have been directed better for when the smoke cleared off. I could perceive horse and rider on the ground. At the same moment we received the signal for charging. The ranks of our infantry suddenly opened, to let us pass through and we advanced at full gallop upon the enemy's horse. These, at first retired precipitately, to get beyond the range of our cannon; then rallied, and drove us back; we did the same by them, and so we went on, till at length, as it is usual in Hungary, the whole dissolved into single combats, in which man is engaged hand to hand with man. It was nearly dark when, with my troop, some of whom were killed, others severely wounded, I reached the main body. Scarcely had we unsaddled, and, tired to death, I was about to stretch myself by the watch-fire, fed with the ruins of houses which had been pulled down, when an infantry soldier, appointed to be on guard duty, came to inform me that an officer of the insurgents, dangerously wounded, and taken prisoner, having heard my name, wished to speak to me. In spite of weariness I immediately followed my guide to the hospital. How was I shocked when the light of the attendant's lantern fell upon his face, and I recognized Count St— On our march through Croatia to Vienna I had passed two days at his mansion, had seen him in the society of two charming women—his wife and his sister—in the full enjoyment of happiness; and now, in what a state was I doomed to find him! Sz—om, a Magyar to the inmost fibre of his heart, had, indeed, then told me: that he should take up arms for Kossuth; but thus to meet him again I was not at all prepared. Kneeling by the side of my pale friend, whose noble countenance bore the evident impress of speedy death, I grasped his cold hand, and asked in what way I could be serviceable to him' “.Thank you for coming." he replied in a voice scarcely audible, and this effort manifestly caused him great pain ; I heard that you were here, and I sent for you. I am dying ! my chest is shattered When I am dead, take the pocket-book out of my uniform, and send it to my wife, who lives at K—n : It contains my will and other papers.'" Here he made a long pause, during which I strove to cheer him. "Don't talk thus— 'tis of no use—we part as friends—I have fought for my country—you are faithful to your colours."

I pressed his hand in silence. "Where is your sister Helene ?" I at length asked. "With the army," he answered, "she is fighting for Hungary." It was now a considerable time before St—m—could utter a word. He moaned gently and a regimental surgeon who came to us, significantly made the sign of the cross with his finger. At length, after a full hour, he suddenly raised himself and said—"So now 'tis all over—salute Marie—(the name of his wife) Marie " and with that he stretched himself out, his eye-strings broke, and his spirit fled.