The Caledonian

A Cherub’s Smile Will Tame A Savage.—The houses of the Kabyle village were all but deserted and empty; the women and children had been sent for protection to neighboring tribes further removed from the seat of war. In one, a Zouave, mad for plunder, was struck by observing a huge jar of rudely baked earthenware standing in a corner. To rush forward and dash it to pieces with his musket-butt was the affair of a second, when, to his surprise, out rolled a poor little Kabyle child, who, forgotten amidst the general confusion and flight, had crept into the jar for shelter. The Zouave raised his musket, but the little cherub smiled on its assailant as though perfectly at home. The rude Zouave’s heart was touched. Perhaps he thought of some far-off home in France, where a brother or sister might be playing in the sunshine like the poor Kabyle child, who smiled unconscious of the threatening musket. Perhaps it was merely his better nature touched by that smile. I know not how this was, but I do know that the Zouave, laying down his musket on the ground, secured the child on his back with his turban, and then rushed forward on his way.

The poor baby was thus borne through the thickest of the fray, but it seemed to have a charmed life. The balls whistled harmlessly by it; and though that night the brave Zouave was found lying on his face, with a ball through his brain, the child was asleep and unharmed. It was subsequently adopted by the officers of the regiment, and is yet alive.—Sketches of Algeria.