father.”  In the midst of all his triumphs, it has been said that he was touched with pity and with sorrow for suffering humanity.  “I asked him,” says Mr. Tweddel, “if after the massacre of Ismail he was perfectly satisfied with the conduct of the day.  He said, he went home and wept in his tent.”  Though Suwarrow spared but little time from his military avocation for social intercourse, his tenderness for children was so great that he could not bear to pass them without notice.  He would stop, embrace, and bless them whenever he met them:  that he fondly loved his own is sufficiently proved by the following anecdote:—­

While on his way to join the army, thoughts of home were in his mind.  He felt it might be long before he should see it in, if indeed, he should ever see it.  He was seized with the most intense longing to look on his children once more.  The desire became so irresistible, that he turned from the road he was traversing, and took that to Moscow.  He rested neither day nor night till he got there.  It was the middle of the night when he reached his house; he sprang lightly from his carriage, and knocked gently at the door.  All the family were asleep.  At length he was heard by one of the domestics, and let in.  He stole on tiptoe to his children’s room, and, withdrawing the curtains cautiously, for fear of disturbing them, bent over them; and, as he gazed on them in delight, they slept on, unconscious of their midnight visitor.  Then throwing his arms gently over them, he held them for a moment in his fond embrace and left them a father’s blessing, and then went away to join his troops.

After the death of Catharine, in the year 1796, there was a sad change in the fortunes of her faithful soldier.  He served her successor with the same heroic devotion with which he had promoted her interest and glory.  In 1799 he effected one of the most brilliant retreats that stand in the annals of history.  Opposed in Italy by Moreau with an overwhelming force, when a retreat was resolved on he was so afflicted that he wrung his hands and wept bitterly.  He led his troops over the heights of Switzerland into Germany with such consummate skill and undaunted energy as added fresh honors to his name.  The dangers and difficulties of this memorable operation were such as would have been considered absolutely insurmountable by one less daring, and a commander less beloved could never have encouraged his troops to hold out against surrender.  But they followed him in the midst of winter snows, through unknown and intricate paths and deep ravines; sometimes passing in what haste they could along the edge of frightful chasms and awful precipices, such as the weary traveler would tremble but to look at.  Here they were frequently exposed to the fire of the enemy, who lay in ambush among the rocks, and ofttimes had to fight their way at the point of the bayonet.  But still, even in retreat victorious, he achieved his object, and never