French Grenadier.—­During the assault of Thurot on the town of Carrickfergus in 1760, an incident took place, reflecting at once the highest lustre on the soldier concerned, and evincing the union of consummate courage with noble humanity.  Whilst the combatants were opposed to each other in the streets, and every inch was pertinaciously disputed by the British forces, a child by some accident escaped from a house in the midst of the scene of action, and ran, unawed by the danger, into the narrow interval between the hostile fronts.  One of the French grenadiers seeing the imminent danger of the child, grounded his piece; left the ranks in the hottest fire; took the child in his arms, and placed it in safety in the house from which it had come, and then with all possible haste returned to resume his part in the fight.

George I.—­During the siege of Fort St. Philip, a young lieutenant of marines was so unfortunate as to lose both his legs by a chain-shot.  In this miserable and helpless condition he was conveyed to England, and a memorial of his case presented to a board; but nothing more than half-pay could be obtained.  Major Manson had the poor lieutenant conducted to court on a public day, in his uniform; where, posted in the ante-room, and supported by two of his brother officers, he cried out, as the king was passing to the drawing-room, “Behold, sire, a man who refuses to bend his knee to you; he has lost both in your service.”  The king, struck no less by the singularity of his address, than by the melancholy object before him, stopped, and hastily demanded what had been done for him.  “Half-pay,” replied the lieutenant, “and please your majesty.”  “Fye, fye on’t,” said the king, shaking his head; “but let me see you again next levee-day.”  The lieutenant did not fail to appear, when he received from the immediate hand of royalty a present of five hundred pounds, and an annuity of two hundred pounds a-year for life.

Charles VI.—­At the breaking out of the war against the Turks, in the year 1717, the Emperor Charles VI. of Austria took leave of his general, Prince Eugene, with the following words:  “Prince, I have set over you a general, who is always to be called to your council, and in whose name all your operations are to be undertaken.”  With this he put into his hand a crucifix, richly set with diamonds, at the foot of which was the following inscription, ’Jesus Christus Generalissimus.’—­“Forget not,” added the Emperor, “that you are fighting his battles who shed his blood for man upon the Cross.  Under his supreme guidance, attack and overwhelm the enemies of Christ and Christianity.”