Look within for fact and fiction
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ] LOOK WITHN FACT AND FICTION CONSISTING OF INSTRUCTING SKETCHES, AND THRILLING JARRATIVES, BY ft O JUDD. MACON, GA.: PUBILSHEED FOR THE AUTHOR. 1864. page: 0[View Page 0] PREFACE. FOR many years a baneful influence has been exerted upon the minds of our people by those innumerable streams of fictitious trash springing from that fountain of Fanaticism iid Inftdelity, the North- ern Press,-so perverting the readers' tastethat all relish for solid matter was swallowed up by an all-consuming thirst for . ght itera- ture. Circumstances have now combined to prohibit foia time, this unnatural indulgence; and now let every .Southern pen wori with zeal in an effort to establish a bhealthy literary tone. The Author has striven to present in the following pages,- a work which will be worthy the perusal of both high and low. He feels, asured that it will prove a profitable and pleasing companion for the traveller, the Home Circle, or the group about the .Camp Fhe. THE AUTHOR. MACON, GA., OCTOBER, 1864. page: 0[View Page 0] TO My TWO BROTHERS, WHO HAVI JOINED THE' LEGIONS OF THE JpBAVt, IN THS UBLIME STRTGGLE FOR SOUTHERN INDEPENDENCE, I DEDICATE THS LITTLE WORK, EMBRACING THE FIRST FRUITS OF MY PIENY AS A SLIGHT TOKEN **R ODDF' AFFE fTt4 - THE STORY OF MY LIE. MY mother was ':a poet and'a painter ,not noted- as such, but as really these as any man or woman that ever lived. Of an intensely-sensitive nasuf : which--gave out tones as harps do;an imagination, - which made pictures in her thought as the eye eif does on its own retina;- pure, sweet, pensive, she infused : the essence of poetry into daily' thoughts and acted the painter, with neither brush nor easel. She gave me her sensitiveness of nature, without the.: poetic genius and charm; the pain without the bliss. In my young h'eart there was tension, from which a brush of the hand would. awaken sound:- music, perhaps-; but wild,; inharmonious fitful music; I could suffeir, but the thrill of joy came rarely. When I was quite, a child, I, jostled against rough natures in the child's world, and shrank more,- and more from the pain of contact, aslthe Brazilian mimosa shrinks from the hand that touches. I was not comely;, and I think I was not winning; at any rate, my chUi. friends gave me to myself, making me, if not- happier' at, least more at peace and content. At i-teii oreleven years of age, some- Iult;:of articulf iabn rept upon my speech. .Whether it was' stuctural, derangement, or came of accident, fast. ened by embarrpssment and strengthened by habit, page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] '- ' THE STORY OF MY L!EB, I never knew; but it grew upon me until it was most noticeable. Another source of pain. If I shrahk from conUtat before, I threw out double defenses now. I built hedges of thorns- about me, and neither old nor young ventured through. ,One day at school, atSehss--it was one of those October days which h iang clouds in the sky like pctures; in which Nature holds her breath till not a leaf is able to stir, and the vhole day seems waiting for the smile of God .to deepeni t0 the sereneness and gravity of ight--at recess I was pecliarly free and happy. A little of my youiger sglf came over me; for thel day seemed ; too deep i peace and beauty for anything like pain. I was playing briskly on the green grass which the heat of summer had failed to scorch, and 'the frosts F of: autumn had not yet reached, when a gleeful1 un-thought-of expression bursting from my lips, was caught by Willie Day-.my friend, if I had any- and repeated in the same stammering way. I looked, at him oncewas conscious of a sharp Mp in through my whole being, as tlough blades had pierced me in every living fibre, and" then laid my face in the grass. I never went to'school again. Willie hung upon me, wept, and begged forgiveness. I said"Yes;." in a stony way, looked at him with a stolid gaze. of half -consciousness, was passive, still, no tears, no re- proaches; but I never played with boys andgirls oa the gr-as again. I never spoke again i ^ eence / of anybut my nother and my bird, not iithoseiyears In giving this picture of unrest and the-'quivering of an over sensitive nature, '1 mui 'notl produce a , .. !. mAL iS'.rUjx uf' O Y LIFE. : wrong impression. My; bird, "myweet singei Israel,; my pet, my lovzer, my child, my little darli arched his neck, and turned his bright1 beady e upon me always soproudly. frI asall lthesam pet, 'whether his child;mistress stammered or no ; loved me and thought me a queen. Ahl it must pleasant to be "orshipped I'" ' Had my mother been more like others, I shoi I havae loved her less, should;-have been less happy at home, but more at ease abroad.- She taught t the sweetnesses of life, picked the thorns from beautiful flowers, and gave me to feel the ru contrast of less delicate .natures. . The unused ha is of velvet and blisters; the' chafed, hand; harden My mother and my rbird, with troops of kittens, long as the perverse things would stay little-tlE heard me talks. To all other creatures, hutman otherwise, I was dumb 'unless the flies upon t window, or the bees in the flower mansionarid .t birds in the -tree-tops, took notice of. my chatterin We. must have speech somewhere. Words are t] wings of thought; clip them and thioght-cannotfl Mother and I were, alone, but for these superanirnat ufnttakative.4hings . Father had died before. '1 was a rough, strong man,.such as win these ang women ;,and in battle, when his regiment stormed stronghold of, almost invineible texture, laid hii down to die as only a soldier can. y moth worshipe, his miemory. 'He was so: brave, n rugged', an great! ' she .would often say, withf glance of light, after a day dreamt .:' ..' ' ' * , ^ * y . t ' J : . t page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 80 v ; TSE STORY OF MY LIFE. "This is your father,"^ mother whispered one Sabbath evening, bringing me a sketch book, one that I did not remember having seen. I knew at once bhits delicate tone, that the draw- ing was my mother's;-a light penciling of a, hand, a man's hand, with its native 'trefigtt, but light in its manliness and beautiful as a woman's. We had a, pleasant -little room apart from our daily use, which was to us, in some sense;sewhat a, parlor is to more social families. We called it "The Flower Room." Carpeted with a pattern of lilacs in broad green leaves with a groundwork of steel; the walls hung with paper, on whidh were, vines with clusters of purple grapes, ntitmed with columbine and wild rose creep- erstlipging and nestling together; chairs and lounges ina afterns of snow-drops and dew bells; -ornaments of Paitiararble cut in roses; the windows sentineled of living plants in porcelain jars; and the room almost filled with tables loaded with like fresh and fragrant creations. It was quite a Paradise of beauty. My mother sketched much, but I never saw more of my father than the hand; excepting years: after, asirigle icrl black and heavy, shading the temple,- the, face seemed hidden by mist. I shuddered at the thought of sketching his face," she said on oday, '"it is impossible to seize the impres- sion and I should die to see anything less. Into this ho of poetry and beauty within which-I was folded and sheldedt as petals are folded within-flower TEIE 'STORY OF MY LIFE. cups, came a great sadness. Mother sickened. I thought she. would die; but like the arctic sun she sank so far, and then crept along the horizon of life. She was thus a year, and I cared for her. She did not seem to suffer, nor did she look ghastly with' illness; but much of her strength was gone. Lying upon her pillows, she talked-and planned and smiled and wept and tried to sketch, but could not do that; seeming just like herself. I was a child of fourteen, an unfit nurse; it appears to me but mother praised me. When the year was over, we thought to call in Dr. Grey, a young physician whose name was being known. I went for him, handed her a note, and he came. Dr. Grey thought me dumb, I pronounced him sufficiently ugly in feature to. be a marvel in talent and skill, as indeed he was. Mother grew better; very slowly indeed, but undoubtedly. In -the mean time, his profession and his frequent coming ' gave him a friend's place with us. I never had felt the power of sympathy and heart in a man of mental strength before. He drew me in spite of myself, and I talked. A year fled, and in'that year I had learned to love: and reveerece Dr. Grey. Even my exquisite sensi- tiveness had received no wound, though the man was as strong as a perfect type of men -but his power was that eos'ower which- is most provocative of. tenderess; against which gentleness is outlined like snow upon a raven's wing. He pally cured me of my fault of speech-partly by kindness and partly by a strong- uiding- word a, the right time. page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 . THE STORY OF MY LIFE. He was the ieriest of men. Somebody has written that power lies in gravity.;- Perhaps so, when merri- ment gets the better of self; but while the man holds his poise, merriment is only the bead which suggests the wine, I take it. And now. came a new element of disturbance; whether painful or not, I cannot say. Dr. Grey loved my -mother; at least it seemed so when the thought had once entered my mind. And my mother-yes, I remember when He first entered the room, and her eye had fallen on his hand-so like the hand of the'" sketch 'And now recollection flooded me with pictures of little tokens, which, in the light of the new thought,-made assurance doubly sure. I told my mother this and she wept, softly, pleas- antly,' saying never a word. Was this what had given tint to the cheek and strength to the failing limbs?.' 'I was happy now. The circuit was formed: Dr., Grey,-my mother, my lirdie and myself-through us all was daily passing theelectric thrill of life. A few months and my sweet, mother folded her hands to- unclasp them no more for me till we welcome one another in the new life. Dr. Grey was with: me, thett with blinding'tears, I said the good-which she could not answer. The rugged furrows of his face were wet, and his eyeplashes glistened with dew drops of tears. God help-us h eI eepI was ced'for. Never in the years that followed, two, three, four five,-ws Is beyond the influence of his companionship and care. He always called me * One June morning, we were under the apple blossoms, the air laden with the perfume of budding cherry and peach. ,an dquince bearing trees--he said, "Do you know how much you have changed since I knew you first; a little dumb girl?" "I suppose I have changed; but have I very much?" "Yes, child; you were a plain, sombre little grl then. Now you are-may I say it?" "No, please, Dr. Grey."-. "Do you love me, ,child?" "Yes-" W( ow ong?" . .. ' "Why, always, Dr. Grey." "You do not understand me::Will you be my wife?" Then came the sharp, quivering pains of that last school-day; and I looked at him- with the same stolid glance, only saying, "You are my father, Dr Grey." "How?" "You loved my mother." ' "For your sake, yes-dran by the promise I .aw in you, for :which I have waited years, to find it a thousand times fulfilled. ,Will yu. have. my low child, my first and only-?:" I was almst paralyzed. My finger tips grew cold, and a something chokedme. Iasked to b alone; : andhe left me till' the morro ,: .... ' Ofnce-alone, I retraced the 'e n wp;i TI based the theory of my mother d ir. Grey. One by one the coLumns 'meted, as though they had been page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 2: o. . TIE STOQY, OF MY LIFE. 'ice and any thoughts warm breeze, circulating through the corridors. At length the whole - vat fari tumbled with a crash. I had been mistaken I knew it, felt in my very soul. This thought settled, a long, thrilling flood swept through me. The hour seemed an hour of resurrec- tion, and the past as an-old :mortallife put o1 And this was love; the snow of my reverene and regard loosed-, from its arctic ;eight, falling in feathery clouds and. meltingas, it-ilk This was what I had beeen doing. thien, .all these years-loving under frost;.' This was why no other pyes or tones had touched me. This a why he ,came to be the standard by which I judged such men as gave me homage; and this was why the homage fell upon me as dust upon white marble. If a tiny doubt lingered in my thoughts, it was all gone when he told me on the morrow, that he knew from the very first that my mother was dying; and that he knew it too, knew it - uie as well: He had proffered his guardianship for her lone, sensitive child; and this had given the light. He has called me 'child' always, I am not dumb any more. Alas I that dreams'are only dreams; That Fancy cannot give A, lasting beauty to those forms, ' Which scarce a moment live. 'la s i thatfye'uth's fond hopes should fade, And io-vebe but a name; While'its rainbows fl1Io0weJ e'er so fast, Are distant still the same. wr., * THE YOUNG WIDOW. THE YOUN1G WIDOW. She is modest, she is bashful, Free and easy, butnot bold, Like. an apple; ripe and mellow, Not too young and not too old; Half inviting, half repulsing, Now advancing, and how shy, There is mischief in her dimple, There is danger in her eye. She has studied human nature, She is schooled in all her arts, :She ha, taken her diploma And the mistress of all harts. She can- tell the very moment,' When to sigh and when to smile;-- Oh! a maid is sometimes charming, But a widow all the while., You are sad? how very serious Will her handsome face become; Are you angry.? She is wretched, Lonely, friendless, tearful, dumb. Are you mirthful? How her laughter, Silver sounding, will ritg eutl She can lure, and catch, and play you, -As the angler does the trout. Ye old bachelors of frty, Who have grown so bold and wise,- Young Americans of twenty,. With your love-looks in your eyes,- You may practisee all the lessons Taught by Cupid since the fall- But I know a little wjdow, Who could catch and fool you all. page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] nt: M -. MYi MOTHER'S- NAM E. My mothersname, my mother's name; UtTponmyiistnlaig ear; What though a stranger spoke her praise, So exquisite it came, At once I loved him' as a friend;-- It was my mother's name. There was a fullness of the heart, A glist'ning o f'the eye, A sudden flushitg of the cheek,- I cannot tell ye why. I probed the theie mighty throb; That shook my trembling frame; :nl :knew, I only felt - It was my mother's name. And cloudless will I keep that name, While God my lifei shall spare; It never yet cofifessed a: blot,- - Nsist'tini-shall1 enter there. In wealor woe, tnasulliedy still "BY That shdow :brby shatne, Proudly my heart shall beat to tell ltisWO:my mother's name I And when,; t olength,' the' Lord of all Shall claim. the breath He gave, $:-, 'ndby thegras eeabtih consign Me: to t:he peffuga claim thebrsath - e , Above my to ai:b proclaim:' . .* He foundit spotl ss; and unstine ' . He Is still his mother's name.. : t'6s -b . i f i K - R . se st SHALL WE KNOW EACH OTHER: THERE? :SHALL WE KNOW Eo OTU RTHERE? When the holy angels meet us, As we go to join their, band, :, Shall we know the friends that greet us, In that glorious Spirit:Land?. Shall we see their dark eyes shining On us as in days of yore? Shall we feel their loredarms twing: . Fondly round us as beforeY Yes'; my earth-worn soul'rejoices, And my weary heart grOsi light; For the thrilling angel voices, And the angel fades bright, That shall welcome us in Heaven, Are the loved of long ago, And in them 'tis kindly given Thus their mortal friends to know.. O ye weary ones and lost ones Droop not, -fint not by the way;. Ye shall join the loved and lost ones, In the land of perfect day. Harp stringfouched by angel fingers, Murmur in :ny raptured ear,- BEvermore their sweet tone linges-- ' We shall know each othir there . THE OLD MAN DREAMS.- O, for an hour of -youthful joy! . Give back my twentieth spring I. I'd rather laugh a bright haiied boy, Than reign a 'grey haired king. page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] THE OLD MAN DREAMS. with the wrinkled spoils of age t Away rith -earntig's erown r Tear out life's wisdom-written page, And dash its trophies down I One moment let my lifebood stream From boyhbodis fount of flame Give me back one giddy, reeling dream liOfe aif ll love 'ald fame: My isteuing angel heard the prayer;, And calmly. miling, said, If I but tduch thy silvered hair, Thy hasty wish hath sped." " But is there nothing in thy track, To bid the fondly stays, Whilst'the swift seasons hurry back To find the wisihed-for day.?" Ah, truest soul of womankind r Without thee, what were life e One bliss I cannot leave behind, I'll take-my-precious-wife. - .The angel took a sapphirnpp,. And wrote in rainbow dew, "The maa. would be a boy againr , And be a husband too,' 4nd is there nothing yet unsaid, Before the change appears? Remember all theirgifts have fled, With those dissolving years. Why, yes;' for memory would recall My fond paterual joys; I could not bear to leave Shem all,- I'll take--my'-girls---and-boys. The smiling angel dropped bhi pen ;- . Why, this wh never do:. The an would be a boy again, And be a father too. ". * And 'so I laughed my laughter woke Th it household with' its inoe- And wrotemy dream, e To please the geyhaire . boy. THE 'following is a confession written Upoh the back of a one dollar bank bill. 'Let young ren, y ! and old men, follow the advice he gives, and take timely warning from the fate of this ' ruined young man., The original, we are inforned, is in the possession of Mr. W. Grenshaw of this city . This is the bill, edqevualet, NXmwhe 28th, 1880. $o,900.- And what have I lost? Not only m orunbuta y character is injured and my health impaired. -6w yonb;meau take -warning, -- beware of gambling. I am this day twenty-one years old, and far from my friends adrtives itht a. hereon to lay my head. a A RnE'D YOUNG. LET US look up in. fear and reverence, and say,- God is the great maker of romane He from wi:. page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] -18 AAI'1ECTING INiDENT. hands came-man and woman; He who strung the great harp of existence, withall its wild and wonderV ful and manifold chords, and attuned them to. one another,-He is the great Poet of'life. * Every im- pulse of bleauty, of heroism, and every craving for purer love, fairer perfection, nobler type and style of being than that which; closes like a prison hguse around ts, is God's'breath, God's impulse, God's reminder to the soul, that there is something higher, putir, sweeter .yet to be attained.. . , '* . . AN AFFECTING INCIDENT. ACTORS; poor fellows sometimes cannot help carrying their homes.-with them ,n the stage. We went one night to see a comedy= The chiel actor was a favorite one, and the theatre was crowded the curtain drew up, and amid a burst of applause the hero of the piece made his appearance. He had however, scarcely uttered twenty words, when it struck us that something was the matter with him The play was a boisterous comedy of the old school and required considerable vivacity on the part of the actors to sustain it 'properly; but this poor man seemed utterly lifeless. He walked and talked like a person in a dream; the best points he passed over without appearing to have noticed them; his limb, trailed as he walked; his smile was ghastly, his laugh - ,I-o ow and unnatural; and frequently he would stop , k *.' ' AN A' FFOCTING ItNCIDENT, absently in the middle of a speech and let his, eye wander vacantly over the audience. Even when in the character of the silly husband, he had to suffer himself to be kicked about the stage by the young rake of the comedy; and afterwards to behold that careless individual making love to his wife and eating his supper, while he was shut up in a closet from which he could not emerge, his contortions--of judicrous wrath, that had never before failed to bring down the thurdert of applause, 'were now such dismal attempts to portray the passion, that, hisses were plainly audible in various parts of the theatre. A story of sibilatioh and abuse long gathering, now- burst in the head of the devoted actor. Insults rang through the house; noisy people pounaed with sticks and umbrellas on the floor; and to verbal attaclk, orange peel, apples, and peanuts soon succeeded. The poor fellow: stopped at last, and turned to the shout- ing crowd. Nevet did we behold such misery in a human countenance. His face, worn and haggard, showed doubly meagre in the gas light, and tears rolled down his;-painted cheeks. We could see his lip quivering with inward agony; his bosom swelling with suppressed emotion, while his whole mien -was so eloquent of unutterable sorrow, that after the first glance, there was no man in the house who dared not to pity him. '-The audience was moved, and by degrees the clamor sthsided into solemn silence: (He stood near the footlights, qk'liet and dejected. When all was calm, he spoke; and, in a voice briken with sobs, proceeded to offer his little explanation. "Ladies page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 2 .i . Af FFCTG INCIDENT - . . . . and gentlemen,"-he said, " though in my performance to-night I -am coascious of having merited your displeasure, beleve me, that in one point you do me an injustice. :I am not intoxicated. Emotion alone, and that of, the most painful kind, has caused me to fulfill my allotted part so badly. My. wife'died an, hourt ago, and I left her bedside to ful]ll my unavoid-, able engagement here. If I have not pleased you, I implore' you to forgive me. I loved her, grieve for her; .and if misery and anguish can excuse a fault, I bear my apology-here.". He placed his hand upon ,his breast and stopped. A burst of tears for a moment relieved his paroxysmof grief, and there was -not-a corner of that house, that did not reecho that poor actor's sobs. The audience was completely overcome, and an honest burst of sympathy made the painted trees on the stage tremble, as if struck with a, storm.. Womena wept loudly, and strong men silently; and during the remainder of the evening, -the performance, was scarcely audible through the hurricane of applause, with which the crowd sought after, their[ own fashion, to soothe 4he poor actor's wgunded heart. There was something very melanw cholryin the thought of that wretched man's coming from-the-bed of death, to don gay attird. and utter studied: witticisms for; the amusement of a crowd, 'not one of -whom dreamed of the anguish that lay festering under the painted cheek and stage smile. AhUlthere are tnany around us in the great theatre of Life, lilke that poor actor, smiling gaily at the multitude,while at home lies some mystery of sorrow, * ' - THE MANIAC DOCTOR. whose shadow is ever present with them in- busy places,- nd in solitude, revels upon their hearts as- a ghoul among the tombs. Yes, there is many a life- drama enacting near us, as fevered, though not spasmodic as Alexander Smith's, THE MANIAC lDOCTOR. IT must be confessed that it is a very' provoking thing to receive a letter, calling you two hundred miles away, on " immediate and important business..t Yes, it is very provoking, indeed,-at least so I found it, both in anticipation and in very deed; but there was no help for it. Sndoks, my lawyer, wrote: and told me that if, on the 25th, -I was not at C--,.I should probably lose-never mind that, but some- thing which induced me to pack my portmanteau: in all haste, send for a hansom, and drive to the X. Y. Z. station. Whet I arrived there, I found that I was too late for the tramn I wished to catch, and that the next one did not start for three quarters of an hour. Inwardly cursing my ill fortune, H went to the waiting room, and endeavored to make myself as comfortable as I could; but despite all my attempts, I think that I never saw time pFass so slowly in all my life, except a certain twenty minutes about which I am going to tell. Although, as I said, the time went very slowly, nevertheless, it did go; and in process of time I found page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22- THE BANIAC DOCTOR. myself snugly ensconced in a first class carriage, which had but one occupant besides myself, a chderful look- ing little old man: with gray hair, and a strange, restless look about the eyes. Directly I got into the carriage, he addressed me in a familiar way: - "A merry time to you." "The same to you," replied I rather gruffly, as I was not in the best humor, and did not feel inclined to be cheerful and neighborly. "Why, bless me, sir," said the little old man, renewing the attack, "you-have not anything where- with to keep yourself warm on this cold winter's day; allow mn to offer you one of my traveling wrappers. I ilways take care to be well provided with such things when I go on a journey;" and my companion took from his side a rolled-up rug, unrolled it, and taking a small mahogany box from:the folds, threw the rug to me. "Thank you, sir," said I, feeling in spite of myself, a' shade more echeerful. "O, no thanks, no thanks; I do it for my own benefit, not yours, I assure you." "How do you make that out?" "Why,', like to have a comfortable face opposite me; and besides, the-grand experiment, you know." What: grand experiment?" said I, somewhat startled by the man's excited manner.. "O, nothing, nothing," said he coloSihg violently; "only-that is to say-exactly, are you a Freemason?" -THJE MANIAC- -DOCTOI. "Not ;, Freemason? Whxl, bless me, you bug most certainly to become one." "Why so?" . . "Because you would then know that- they have got a sort of-that is to say-in fact, a secret." 'I know that already." "Really, I declare you ate the most extraordinary man I ever met. Well, I've got a secret too, and that my grand experiment." :As it is a secret, I suppose you will not tell me n? it is." "O, yes, I will though'; but perhaps had better not. Never miind, I'll tell-you; it is simply this to discover what are the diferent feelings of different persons under different circumstances." - "I should hardly call that an- experiment ." "'Would you,: now? - Curious: that; .yes, v curious; for, to tell you the truth, I doubt myself whether I am justified in calling it an experiment. But enough of that matter for the present. May I ask where you are going to?" "To-; "Have you any -friends there?" "None, I am sorry to say I; am: called there some disagreeable though important business.,'; "Thent mayI I have- the pleasure of your company to dinner when we arrive there?" "Thank' you,; I shall have the greatest pleasure accepting your kind invitation." "By the by, do you know how many times: stop before we reach o --?" ; page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 4 TISt MANIAC IDOCTOR. ' "Only twice, as thi is an express train; Once at M---- at two o'clock, and second at F--- at four o' clock." "And when are we due at C --?" "At half past six I believe," ' Thank you." Thus for a time, our conversation endfd; but we often renewed it again, and I began to regard my companion as a clever, kind hearted, though eccentric old man. Some time after we passed M- , my eccentric fienad :composed. himself for a sleep, and was soon snorings; and it was not long before I followed his example. My dreams were troubled.. First of all, I dreamed that I was being hung; then that I was being handcuffed; and,last of all, that'a great weight was upon me,. and that something was pressing heavily upon my- chest. I then awoke with a start, to find myself bound hand iand foot, with' a rope passed round my-neck and fastened to the umbrella rack behind, in such a manner, that if I struggled-in the least, I would inevitably choke myself; and my fellowtraveler was standing over me, with one knee upon my chest." "What are you doing?" said I; but my sentence was cut short by a gag, which my eccentric friend thrust into my mouth and tied behind my head. He the:f stooda away to look at his handiwork with eyes glaring like those of a wild beast, and his wholesome et&eing. with excitement. "Now," he said with a wild laugh, " now I shall be able to try my grand experiment! Now; I shall be able to find whether ther heart can be extracted while a man is alive, without killing him! I twice have failed, but he stas have told me, that a third time, I shall not fail. O, fame glory immortal, I have you in my grasp I :-Wht piti' dyo, turn pale and tr le? If you die, tyo- wil die glorious martyr to science; and-if you lie, youaitai I will sihee-the glory of this grand discovery." ; From this ridiculous rodomonttd I perceived'that my pleasant, eccentric travelling companion was a raving maniac. What was I to. .do?' : cOtMd't' - move hand or foot, of even speak, and the matitiadm was arranging on the seat in front of me, aeolle:liti of bright steel instruments, which he took from thqi mahogany box;-'which I have mentioned before, Was there any-help for ,ne? I -tried ^ ' rmerin ' how long it was after I left M -- -, befo're I. wentio sleep, as I thougght if we- got to ":F.-- -, hAe ia-* would'be discovered, and I:'should t;,eieved' i the horrible death which now seemed imminent; - as I haI 'beeii dozing for ;6fme, time befo re. 'I. I . regularly off to sleep,-I fouand i;Er - co idnoti-tin^ least .rermeii what timla sed. :' . ' " tl After some time spet inprepariighisfstrrnsment, my persecutor b-ga; to pre e by unb^Uttii my wasteisat,-and baring my- breast- I:t le I everything seemed to be to hs' iatio% ; l took up ya shai, keeualtaded"ifi. : sai i I never forget my sensation*s :When'^-sai. I ,i^: An instrument so sn:to':be aei":'"'uoOd:a I page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 . THE MANIAC DOCTOr. felt a cold shudder run through my body, and I 'longed to close my* eyes, but they seemed to keep open by a sort of horrible fascination. After trying the! edge of the knife and preparing a, cloth, and giting onefinal look/ o his instrument, my eccentric friend pressed his finger close above my heart and said, This is how I am going to manage it, my friend; I'm going to cut a circle in the flesh above the heart, with. this knife. It will not hurt much, as I shall only just cut through the skin, and the knife is exceedingly sharp. I shall then. proceed to dig deeper with this instrument, and finally extract the heart with this.' The reader may imagine my sensations during this cold, bloody recital; for I am utterly unable to, describe them. But when the shap steel first- pierced my flesh, and I felt the warm blood gushing out, my past life seemed to pass before my mind ,in a moment of time, only to make my desire of still living, and the horror of an ignomini- death, ten-fold greater. Slowly the sharp knife *ugihed in my flesh, making my blood freeze in my irs, and my eyeballs burn and seem ready to burst from their sockets; and now I felt my reason gradu- ally leaving me. 'The strain upon my nervps was too much--I felt that they must give way; but I considered that if: they did, my only hope would be gone; for if I moved, I should be choked with the rope around my neck. Slowly the sharp steel, impe!ed bya steady hand, continued its deadly course; and. now the circle was nearly accomplished, when. I felt that the, speed of ' 1:^ " THE MANIAC DOCTOR. ' the train was being gradually diminished. A ray of hope illuminated my breast. I looked into my companion's eyes, to see if he noticed that we were. nearing F--; but he was too intent on his horrible * work. At length he leaned back and said- "There now; only about an inch more, and I shall commence the deep cutting." Only about an inch; and-the station was yet some I way off! Only about an inch! My life hung upon the merest thread. It was not long that the experimenter admired his diabolical work.--he soon fell to it again. But I saw the lights of F- station flash. past the window of the carriage; I saw a strange arm seize my tornmentor. I heard a loud and appalling cry, like that of a baffled wild beast, and I became insensible. For weeks after this, I lay between life and death; a brain fever brought on by the intense excitement and fear of those twenty minutes. I afterwards learned that my pleasant companion had been a doctor and a surgeon; but thiat when he was a young man and just married, having performed an operation to extract a cancer from his wife, of d, which she afterwards died, he went out of his mind, and had ever since- been attempting to escape, in order that he might perform the dreadful experiment which so nearly resultedjn my death.-Slected. What makes more noise than a pig under a gate? Two pigs. page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 2 .?x MBRBALT NEYrS DEATH SCENIm MARSHAL NEY'S DEATH SCENE * : . ' . .. ,* , . . THE vengeance of the allied powers demanded some victims; and the intrepid Ney, who had well. nigh put the crown again on Bonaparte's head at Waterloo, was to be one of them.' Condemned to be shot, he was led to the garden of Luxemburg on the morning of the seventh of- December, and placed in front of a file of soldiers drawn up to kill him. One of the officers stepped up to bandage his eyes; but ' ha repulsed him, saying, Are you --ign ant that for twenty-five years I have been accustomed to face both ball and bullet?"He then lifted his hat above hig head, and, with the same calm voice that had stadied his columns so frequently in the roar and tumult of battle, said; "I declare before God and man, that I never betrayed my country;--may my death render her happy.. Vive, la France fr He then turned to the soldiers, and striking his hand bn his heart,: gave the order '-Soldiers, fire t"A simulta- neous discharge followed, and the "Bravest of the brave,"' sank to rise no more. He who had fought five hundred battles for Frahce,. not one against her. was -shot as a traitor." i As I looked 'on the spot where he:fell,; could not but sigh over his fate. . True, he broke his oath of allegiance-so'dcid otkers, carried away by their attachment to Napoleon, and A the enthusiasm- that hailed his approach to Paris, I Still he was no traitor. ; -THE TOMB OP A WOMVAN.. 2 r 1 * .- ., - I " *' ' ' THE TOMflB OF-A WOMAN. FOR myself, I can pass by the tomb of a man with, somewhat of a calm indifference; but when lsurvey the grave of a female, asigh involuntarily escapes me. With the name of woman, I associate every softe tender, and delicate affection. I think of her as the young and bashful maiden, with eyes sparkling and, cheeks crimsoned with each impassioned feeling of the: heart; as the kind, affectionate wife, in the exercises of her domestic duties; as the chaste and virtuous matron, tired of the follies of the world, and prepar. ing for that grave into which she must soon descend Oh I there is something in contemplating a woman's character, that raises the soul far. above the vulgar level of society. She is formed to adorn and humanize mankind, to soothe his cares, and strew his path with flowers. - In the hour of distress, she is the rock on which he leans for support; and when nate calls him from existence, her tears bedew hisgrave. Can I look down on her tomb without emotion? Man has always justice done to his memory-woman, never. The pages of history lie open to the one'; but the meek, unobtrusive excellences of the other, sleeps with her, unnoticed in the grave. In her man have shone the genius of the poet, with the virtue of the saints; the energy of the man,. with the tender softness of the woman--Slected. . * page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] W' i- . .,z -EL.'JUW '- WE Inow not when or-where we have met with TRUE ELOQ achCEr i a anything in prose, more striking than the burst'oi ,ad-advertised a barbecue with better liquors than were generally furnished. When 1he people were assembled, desperado cried out, "Mr. Paul Denton everence has lied. You promised not only a: od b :becinowe but bwhenttr liquo where wethe liqumetorwit "There," answered the missionary in a tone o 'ntider, and pointing his motionless finger to the finatoeless double springs, gushing up in two strong eloquns c with a sound like a shout of joy, from iP j Dt nr of Tea, a Meth odi s The re; c he repeated wiath look terrible as lightning, while his enemy actual- trbadver t hise fee T rere it .thte liquor wthan God the Eternal, brews for all his children. Not " h W iereenerig stily over smoky fires, choked writ p -psonos gas es, psurrounded with the stench of siet e-ing odlors a and cotruptions, doth -your Father itth f water. B eut in the greenglade and grassyrdel ^ vihre te red aeer wanders and the child lover t - p iA ' o ere God brews it; aund daown in the deeper t vsmyof, wher -the fouhtain murmurs and the ri '?-? tite:simmering still, over smoky fires,-hoked witl g and ighn upon the mouintain topsu wahere tl enaked rante tht essence of life, the pure olh [! ]- * naked granite glitters like gold in the sun, whe: j . - * TRU- RLOQUE3NQ * storm clouds brocod and thunrder storms crash; -'and away far out' on. the wide, wpd'lsea, where the hurricane howls music and the big waves roll the I chorus, sweeping the march of God; there he brews' ity that beverage of life, health-giving * water, and everywhere it is a thing of life and beiuty, gleaming in the dewdrop, singing in-the rain, shining in the ice-drop -till the trees allI seem turned to living jewel!s, - spreading a golden vail -over the'. sun or white gauze around the moon, sporting in the: ,aarhCt, dancing-ing the hail shower uslteping in the glacier, foldingiti 1i bright snow curtains softly about. the wintery -wqrlTdi. and weaving the 'many-coloredT Irise that syren whose-, : warp is the raindrop of the earth, ;and whose woofiis the sunbeam of heaven, all checkered over . with- ? celestial 'flowers -by the -mystic hand of, refraction, i still: always it is beautiful, -that blessed life-water-I No. poison- bubbles on its bri-nk ; ita. foam brirngs no . S madness and murder; no bloodstains its. iquid glass-: pale' widows and orphans -weep-not burning tears; i-n its depths; no, drunkard's shrieking .ghost fromrthe gravei -urses4it in words of eternal: despair. .Speakl/ out, my . :friends, would you- exchange it; forS th. :[ clemon's drink, Alcohol " A. shout like.'theioabiof.: atempest, answered. No: - : ;' "Sambo said. a farmer to . his ser vant, :"have y0. souented the pigs to-night? "Yes,.fmassaillk .i ' ne little bl k:fethsq, awd he jumped :up , , I couldn't cout himi - ,... -. .; page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] -8.2 X / 1PEABODY S :LEAP I PEABODY S LEAP, A LEGEND OF LrAKE CHAMPLAIN. ' MA1Y are the places scattered over the face of our .! beautiful country, whose wild and picturesque scenery i -i worthy of the fpainter's pencil, or the poet's pen. '; Some bf them, which were once celebrated for their rich, stores of "Legendary Lore," are now only sought to view :their natural scenery, while the traditions which formerly gave them celebrity, are buried in oblivion. Such is the scene of the follow- ing iadvfiture,-a romantic glen, bounded on the north side by a high and rocky hill, which stretches itself some distance into the lake, terminating in a precipicei some thirty feet in height and, once known- by the name of "Peabody's Leap." At the time of this adventure, Timothy Peabody ,was the only white man that lived within fifty iilcs oftthis place;- and his -was the daring spirit that aelived it. In an attack on one of the frontier settlements, his family had all been massacred by the merciless savages, and ha had sworn that their death should be revenged. The better to accomplish this dread purpose, he had removed to this solitary place, and constructed the rude shelter in which he dwelt, tilf the blasts vpf winter drove him to the homes of, his fellow men; again' to renew the contest, when 4 r I -W PPEADODjyS LEAP. 33 spring had awakened nature :into life and beauty. Hle was a man bwho possessed much rude cunning, mcombined with a thorough knowledge of Indian habits, by which bhe had. always been enbIed to avoid the snares of his subtle. enemies. Often when they had come witha partyhto 'ake him, he escaped their lure; and after burning his hut on their'return homewards, some of their 'boldest- warriors were picked off by his unerring aim :-or on arriving at their town,- they learned that one of their swiftest hunters had been. ambushed by him, and taken a victim to his deadly rifle. He had lived in this way' for several years,- and had so often baffled themi that they had at last become weary: of the pursuit; and- for, sotne time, had left him unmolested. -Abut this' time, a party of Indians made a .descent on one of, the small settlements, and had taken three ,men prisoners, whom -they were carrying: ome to sacrifice for the same number of their men who had been kiiled by Peabody. It was twar: the Closeof the day when they passed his abode; most of the parte' were' in advance of the prisohfers, who, with their hands tied, and escorted by live or six indians, ere almost , weanried-out by their long march and but just able to crawl along e had obaerved thi advance guard, and suspecting there were prisonerg in the rear, had let them passunmolested, intending to try some "Yankee. trick,"-to 0eFect :their resue. e acordingly followed on the -trail oi the party;. keeping among the: thick trees which on either de Skirted the path. He had proceeded but -a short page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 4 PEABODY S LEAP. distance, before he heard the sharp report of a rifle apparently very near him, and which he knew must be one of the Indians, who had strolled from the main body, to procure some gaime for' their evening meal. From his acquaintance with their language and habits, he only needed a disguise to enable him to join with the party if necessary; and aided by the darkness which was fast approaching, with but little danger of detection. The resolution was quickly formed, and as quickly put into operation, to kill 'this Indian and procure his dress. 'He had gone but a few paces, when he discovered -his intended victim, who had just finished loading his rifle. To stand forth and boldly confront- him, would give the savage an equal chance ; and , Tim proved the best. shot, the party on hearing the report of two rifles at once, would be alarmed and commence a .pursuit. The chance was, therefore, two to one against him, and he was obliged to contrive a way to make the Indian shoot first. Planting himself then, behind a largedree, he took off his fox skin cap, and placing it on ,the' end of his rifle, began to wave it to nid fro.' The-Indian quickly discovered it, and was not at a loss to recollect the owner by the cap. Knowing how often. the white warrior had eluded them, he determined to dispatch him' at once; and without giving him notice of his dangerous proxim- ity, he instantly-raised his rifle, and its contents went whizzing through the air. The ball just touched the bark of -the tree ,and pierced the cap, which rose PEABODY'S I4EAP. 35 suddenly, like the death spring of the beaver, and then fell among the bushes. The Indian, like atrue sportsman, thinring himself sure of his victim, did not go to pick up his game till he had reloaded his piece; and dropping it to the ground, he was calmly proceeding in the operation, when Timothy as calmly stepped from his h-iding place, exclaiming, "Now, you tarnal critter, -say your prayers as fast as ever you can." , This was a short notice for-the poor Indian. Before him and scarcely ten paces distant, stood the tail form of Peabody, motionless as a statue-his rifle -to his shoulder, his finger on the trigger, and his deadly aim firmlyfixed upon him: He was about-to run, bt he had not time to turn round, ere the swift winged messenger had taken its flight. His first movement was his last--the ball-pierced his side, he sprang into the air, and fell lifeless on the ground. No time was now to be lost. He immediately proceeded to strip the dead body, and toarray him- self in the accoutrements,. consisting of a hunting. shirt, a pair of moccasins or leggings, and wampum belt and knife. A little of the blood besmeared on his surburnt countenance, served for the red paint; and it would have taken more than an ordinary eye, in the thicktwilight and thick gloomr of the surround- ing forest, to have detected the counterfeit Indian. shouldering his rifle he again started in the pursuit,. and followed--them till they arrived in the glen, where their canoes were secreted. Here they stoppediand began to make preparation for the expected supper, page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] OM - 3; PEABODY'S LEAP. previous to their embarkation for the opposite shore. X. The canoes were launched, and their baggage depos- ited. in them. The fire was blazingarightly, and the a party was walking round, impatiently waiting for the ] return of :the hunter. The body of Timothy was safely deposited behind fallen tree, where he could see. every motion and -hear every word spoken in the circle. Here he had been about half an hour. "Night had drawn its l sable curtains around the scene," or in other words, it was dark. The moon shone fitfully through the i Cloud which almost covered the horizon, only serv- -ing occasionally to render the "darkness visible." v -The. Indians- now began to evince - manifest signs of impatience for the return of their comrade. They feared that a party of whites had followed them, and taken him prisoner; and at last they resolved to go in search of him. The plan, which was fortunately heard by Timothy,. was to put-the captives into one of the canoes under the arc of five of their tumber, who were to secrete themselves in case of an attack, - massacre the prisoners, and then go to the assistance of their brethren.- As soon as the main body had started, Peabody cauatiously crept fromn his hiding place to the water, 'and sliding in feet foremost, moved alongOn his back, his, face just above the surface, to the canoe which contained the rifles of-the guard. The priming waa quickly removed from these, and their powder horns emptied repaede and the prisoners givens-notice of their -intended. rescue; warning them at, the -arame Il .- . \ PEABODY'S LEAP. t time, not to show themselves above -the gunwale, till they -were in safety. He next, with his Indian knife,. separated the thong which held the canoe to the shore, intending to, swim off with it,. till he had, got far enough to avoid observation, then get in and paddle ' for the nearest place where a landing could be effected.. All this was but the work of a moment; and he wasa slowly making off from the shore, as yet unobserved by the' guard, who little expected an attack from this side. But unfortunately, his rifle had.-been left behind, and he was resolved not to part with "Old Plum'per, as he called it, without at least one effort to recover it. He immediately gave the captives notice'of his intention, and directed them to paddle slowly and silently out, and in going past the head- land, to approach as near as possible, and then await his coming. The guard by this time, had secreted themselves, and one of thel number had chosen the' place which Timothy himeelfhad previously cc!pied, near which he had left his old friend.- H9had almost got to the spot, when the Indian discovered the rife, -grasped it, and springing upon his feet, gave the alarm to his companions. Quick as thought Tim was upon him,'seized the rifle, and wrenched it from him with such violence, as to throw -him breathless! on the ground. The rest of the, Indians were alarmed and sounding the war-whoop, rushed upon him. It was a standard maxim: with Timothy, that - a good soldier never runs till he is obliged to," anhd e- now found that-he should be under the necessity of page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 88 , PiEABODY'S LEAP. suiting his practice to his theory. There was no time for deliberation; he instantly knocked down the foremost with the but of his gun, and bounded away i Through the thicket like a startled deer. The three remaining Indians made for the canoe where the f aifles were deposited, already rendered harmless by the precaution of Timothy. This gave him a good advantage, which was not altogether unnecessary, as he was much: encumbered with his wet clothes, and before he reached the goal, he could hear them, snapping the dry twigs close behind him. The main body had likewise got the alarm, and were but a! short distance from him when he reached the head- land. .Those who were nearest he did not fear, unless they came to close action ; and he resolved to send I one more of them to his long home, before he leaped from the precipice. . "It's a burning shame to wet so much powder,' said he; I'll have one more pop at the tarnal red- skins." Tim's position was quickly arranged to put his thresttin execution. His rifle was presented, his eye glanced along the barrel, and the first one that showed his head, received its deadly contents. In an instant Tim was in the water, making for the canoe., The whole party had by this time come up, and commenced a brisk fire upon the fugitives. Tim stood erect in the canoe, shouting in the voice of a Stenabr, "Ye'd better take care, ye'll spile the kifE Old Plumper's 'safe, and ye'lI feel him yet, I te y were e. They were quickly lost in the darkness; taking a -"STAR SPANGLED BANNER." 9 small circuit, they effected a landing in safety. Many a man's life verified his last threat, and Peabody lived ,to a good old age, hving often related to his friends the adventure. which gave tothis place, the name of "Peabody's Leap." CONCLUSION TO "THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER." Farewell to that Flag, though long it hath waved, The pride of our land and the world's admiration; ' Now sullied and shorn, its supporters enslaved, It flaunts but to tell of its own desecration. Accursed be the name, That hath covered with shame, That flag, once the emblem of glory and fame; For the Star Spangled Banner no longer doth wave, O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. AN Irishman's horse fell with him, throwinghis rider to some distance; when the animal struggling to get up, entangled his hind leg in the stirrup. "O, very well, sir," said'the dismounted cavalier'; "if you're. getting upon your own back, I see there will be no room for me." .. ' "ARE you not alarmed at the approach of the king of terrors?" said a minister to a sick man. "O, no; I have been living six and thirty yeais with the queen of terrors-the king .cannot bemuch worse." page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] ^I '-!* ROSE HLL CEOMETERY, AMONG the many pleasing attractions which the combiied efforts of Nature and 'Art have thrown about the city of Macon, its Cemetery elaims a prgmineait place. It is located just beyond the western limits of the city occupying an elevated site -on the southern bank of the Ocmulgee River, which, sweeping'around a rocky headland, chants a perpetual requiem over the slumbering ashes on its -;margin. The Ceimetery was opened in 1840, conse- uently its general appearance is quite modern. From the heavy iron gateway, the main or central avenue leads down a gentle declivity to the river side., On ether hand as we descend, are spacious lots, d .enclosed by rich and tasteful iron railings and adorned with choice shrubbery, from the midst of which arise the glistening marble shafts and snowy statuary, , finished and. draped in the highest order of art. Surrounding the whole- isan air of taste and elegance which elicits-the admiration of the beholder. At the terminus of the avenue, a bold, rugged mass of limestone overhangs th, river some twenty feet. This rock has by some means, received the romantic appellation ofLover's Leap. From this conspicuous 'stand point, the eye may. range over quite a varie- gated field )ark grovesof oak and evergreen fringe the .opposite shore, while up the winding-stream, the - eye rests upon the broken outline of the blue horizon. I1QSD HLL CflMCTFkRY. Towards tie entrance, a beautiful view presents itself. Up, up, one above another, like the sweeping tiers of some vast amphitheatre, rise the long ranges of grass grown terraces, while through the clusters of ornamental trees, festooned with native ivy, we catch the gleam of spotless tombstones, standing like white robed sentinels, crowned with wreaths of creeps ing myrtle. Branching off from the Avenue, are innumerable graded. pathways, carpeted with faded foliage and overarched by giant oaks, lacing-and interlacing their'long branches, till in these woodland arbors, there reigns the sombre shade of twilight, throughout the'summer day- - There, on the left hind fronting the river, is a wifdl secluded dell, so beautiful and tranquil, that a grave in its cloistered bosom, would lose its repulsive feature, and seem a welcome retreat from the din and pains of - life. Farther on, in the face of a grassy bluff, are several vaults with ornamental fronts of brick. After passing these, we enter a deep embowered glen, with shaded tombs. On either slope, while wandering through the centre from the upland, flows' a noisy streamlet, now leaping over a range of rocks, in miniature cascades, and now calming its ruffled surface in the olear depths of an artificial lake.' On the margin of one of these sparkling mirrors, may be seen the entrance to the Chrystal ipring, babbling from the chamber of a pleasant grotto, some thirty feet in the hillside. Here and there under the trees, are rustic seats for the comfort of visitors; while high up on the bark of the old beech trees; are names a page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42; ' GENERAL ,AIt OLD. and dates of another day, weather-beate, and moss. grown, as may be the graves of many who wrote them. The sun has set and the last couples are strolling homeward, while the shadows are stealing from the forest, dancing to the music of the pine grove's melancholy vespers. GEN. ARNOLD.- hiring the traitor Arnolds pred- atory Operations in Virgini, in 1781, he took an American captain prisoner. After some general con- versation, he asked the captain, "What he thought the Americans .would do with him, if they caught him." :The captain declined at first, giving him an answer; but upon being repeatedly urged, "Why, sir, if I must answer the question, you will excuse my telling the truth. If my countrymen could catch you, I believe they would first cut off your lame leg, which was wounded in the cause of freedom and virtue at Quebec, and bury it with the honors tf war, and afterwards hang the remainder of your body upon a gibbtet' TRUE MAGNANIMTY.-Hath any one wronged thee? Be bravely revenged slight, and the work is begun; forgive, and 'tis- finished. :He is below himself, who is not above an injury.-Selected. IT hbas been estimated that a work like the great Pyramid, could not be constructed at the present day, with all the aids of modern science, for less. than one hundred and thirty-five millions of dollars. ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA. ANTHONY AND CLEOPATRA. I I aa dying, Egypt, dying, Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast; And the dark Plutonian shadows Gather on the evening blast. Let thine arms, O Queen, support me; Hush thy sobs; and bow thine ear; Hearken to the great heart secrets, Thou, and thou alone, must hear. Though my scarred and veteran legions Boar their eagles high no more, And my wrecked and scattered galleys . Strew dark Actium's fatal shore; Though no glittering guards surround me, Prompt to do their master's will; - I must perish like a Roman; Die the great Triumvir still. Let not Casar's servile minions Mock the Lion thus laid low; Twas no foeman's hand that slew him, 'Twas his own that struck the blow. Hear, then, pillowed on thy bosom, Ere his star fades quite away,. Him who, drunk with thy caresses, Madly flhng a world away. Should the base plebeian rabble Dare assault my fame at Rome, Wheh the noble spouse Oetavia, Weeps within her widowed home Seek her, say the Gods have told me, Altars, Augurs, circling wings, That her blood with mine commingled, Yet shall mount the throne of-kings, page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] -44 . SIMPLE AND COMPOUND. INTERESTS And for thee, starry eyed Egyptian, Glorious sorceress of the Nile, Lighlt the path to Stygin horrors, With the splendor of thy smile,. Give this Caesar crowns and arches, Let his brow the- laurel twine; I can scorithe Senate's triumphs, Triumphing in love like thine. I am dying, Egypt, dying; Hark! ithe insulting foeman's cry; They are coming-quick, my falchion 1 Let me front them ere I die. Ah I no more amid the battle, She my heart exultant swell;- Isis and Osiris guard thee; Cleopatra, Rome, farrell I [Selected. DIFFERENCE BETW'EEN SIMPLE AND COMPOUND INTREST.- From the birth of Christ to' December 15th, -1815, one penny, at five per cent. simple interest, amounts to 7s.- 3d: at compound interest, it would be 1,227,742,357,141,817,589,060,9T,240, 755,491, 9s. 6d. Allowing a cubic inch of gold to be worth- 38 16s. 6d., and the above sum to be condensed into a globe of gold, its diameter will be 6,193,604' miles, 54Q yards, 1 .foot, 6 inches and a fraction, which would exceed in magnitude, all the * planets in the solar system . and supposing this earth to be solid gold, it would not pay one hour's interest onthe above sum.--lected. ;"j THE SPERSON OF JESUS CHRIST. 4i A DESCRIPTION OF ThE PERSON OF JESUS CHRIST, As it was found in an aneent maniscript, which was sent by Publiuw Lentulusf President of Judea, toth Senate of Rome. - THERE lives at this time in Judea, a man of singular character, whose name is Jesus Christ. The barbarians esteem Vim a prophet, but his followers adore him as the immediate offspring of the Immor tal God. He is endowed with such unparalleled virtue as to call back the dead from their graves, and t heal every kind of disease with a word or a touch His person is tall and elegantly shaped; his aspect amiable' and reverend; his hair flows in beautiful shades, which o united colors can match; falling into graceful curls below his ears, agreeably couching on his shoulders, and parting on the crown of his head, like the head-dress of the: sect of the Nazarites His forehead is smooth, and. his cheeks without-. spot, save that of a lovely re - His nose and mouti are formed with exquisite symmetry; his beard i thick and suitabl te to the air of his head;. reaching a little below his chin, and parted in the middle like a fork; his eyes are bright, clear and serene. He rebukes with majesty, counsels with- mildness, and invites with the most tender and persuasive language: his whole address, whether in word or deed, beine page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " THE LAST NfGHT' OF THE YEAR. elegant, -brave, and strictly characteristic of so exalted a being. No man has seen- him laugh, but the whole world has frequently beheld him weep; - and so persuasive ar, his tears, that the multitude cannot withhold theirs from joining in sympathy with him. He is very modest, temperate, and. wise. ; In short, whatever this phenomenon may be in the end, he seems'at present a man of excellent beauty. and divine perfection; every way surpassing the children of rfen. [Selcted. *. , -x THE LAST NIGHT OF THE YEAR. ,.2 'Tis almost midnight, and a wilder scene than that which now chains the wondering vision, the most enthusiastic and vivid imagination would struggle in vain to comprehend. The very soul trembles before its supernatural grandeur, and my pen shrinks back appalled from the mighty task of sketching the magnificent scenes which half bewilder the senses. Night's murky sky, like ;an inverted sea, with here and there a rich diamond sparkling and flashing from its bosom, is filled with black, ominous, billowy clouds, surging to and fro in a chaos unsurpassed, I imagine, by that which brooded over the wild thbiob- bings of the creation. The untrammeled wintry blast, with shrieks and groans, is dashing its invisible tide with fearful and almost irresistible might against the trembling earth; while ever and anon the gloomy THE LAST NIGHT OF THE YEAR. arches of the sky are lighted up with 'fitful flashes of electric light, and for a moment, the whole uni- verse seems bound in chains of liquid fire, while from cloud to cloud, and arch to arch, rolls and reverberates the sublime voice of the eternal thunders. As I stand contemplating;these wonderful cenvul- sions of nature, the fearful scenes of Calvary arise. unbidden before the mind; and the shrinking gaze is turned, half expecting to behold some re-armated dweller of the tombs, or those three bloodstained crosses, hedged in with glittering steel; tie ears are unconsciously closed to those "dying groans," which' filled the'Roman soldiery with .terror, andishook the very heavens and earth. But hark! the watchman's cry, "Twelve o'clock and all's well," now rings 1 long the dark; deserted, street, while the clear( chime of brazen- tongues, from out a score of lonely belfries,.' proclaims thehhour of midnight, and also sounds the knell of a departed year. 'Tis the last night of 1868 passed away .amid these terrible throes of nature. Another stone of the Temple is thrown down another tomb appears in thatmighty graveyard, the Past. And now heralded byi the trumpets of the storm, and the music of the clouds, bright-eyed ',4 - has caught up the expiring torch aud falling sceptre of his predecessor, and is calmly, ascending the imperial throne. Time is anisland in the boundless ocean of Eternity. Another wave has struck upon that crumbling beach, which will ere long melt away and sink into oblivion; and the dark waters will roll on without a shore. page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] ' 48 THE HERO OF THE. PLAGUE. i "THE HERO OF THE PLAGUE. WHEN the plague was raging violently at Mar selles, every link of affection-was broken; the father turned from the child-the child from the father; cowalice and ingratitude no longer excited indigna- tion. Misery is at its height, when it thus destroys every generous feeling,-thus dissolves every tie of humanity. A funeral met you at every step I The physicians assembled at tie Hotel de Ville, to hold a consultation on the fearful disease, for which no remedy had yet been discovered. After a long consultation, they decided unanimously, that the malady' had a peculiar. 'and mysterious character, which opening a corpse might devslope,- an operation which it was impossible to attempt, since the operator must infallibly become a victim, in a few hours, beyond the power of human art to save him, as the violence of the attack would preclude their adminis- tering the customary remedies. A dead pause suc ceeded this fatal declaration. Suddenly a surgeon by the name of Oiyon,: in the prime of life, of great celebrity in his profession, rose and said firmly," Be ita so: I deote myself for the safety of the country. Before this numerous assembly, I promise in the name of humanity and religion, that to-morrow at the beak of day, I will dissect a corpse, and write down as I proceed, what' I observe.' THE HEROQ OF THE PLAGUE. 49 He left the assembly instantly. They admired him, lamented his fate, and doubted whether he would persist in his design. The intrepid and pious Guyon, animated by all the sublime energy that; religion or. patriotism can inspire, acted up to his word. He had married, and was rich; and he immiediately made his will, dictated by justice and piety. A man had died in his house witlhin four and twenty hours. Guyon at daybreak, shut himself up in the same room he took with him, ink, paper and a little crucifix. Kneeling beside the corpse, he wrote,- "Moldering tenement of an immortal soul, not only can I -gaze on thee without terror, but evewn with joy and gratitude. Thou wilt open to me the gates of a glorious eternity. In discovering to me the seeret cause of the terrible plague which destroys mn native city, thou wilt epable me to point-out some salutary remedy; thou wilt render my sacrifice useful.; O, God," continued he, "Thou wilt bless the action thou hast thyself inspired." He began, he finished the dreadful operation, and recorded in detail, his surgical observations. Ho then left the room, threw the papers into a-vase of" vinegar, and immediately sought the Lazaretto, where he died in twelve hours, a .death'ten times more glorious than the -warrior, who to save his country, rushes on the enemy's ranks- since he advances with hope at least, and sustained, admired, and secon4ed by a whole army. Physicians, who remain firm in the discharge of their duties, hile the fears :of their-fellow citizens E page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 60 - TiE TIGER'S CAVE. are prompting them to fly from contagion, display that moral courage, whibh is as far superior to he physical energy which sustains the soldier in battle, as the mind is superior to matter. THE TIGER'S C AVE. A N ADENTURE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS OF QUITO. ON leaving the Indian village, we continued to wind around Chimborazo's wide base; but its snow- crowned head no longer -shone above -us in clear brilliancy, for a dense fog was gathering gradually around it. Our guides looked anxiously towards it, and- announced their apprehensions of' a violent storm. We soon found that their fears were well founded. The fog rapidly covered and obscured the Whole-mountain; the atmosphere was ,suffocating, and yet 'so humid that the steel workof our watches -was, covered with rust, and the watches stopped. The river beside which we were traveling, rushed down with still greater impetuosity; and from the clefts of the rocks which lay on the left of our path, were suddenly precipitated small rivulets, that bore the roots of trees and innumerable serpents along with them. These nrivlets often came do'rn so suddenly and violently, tnat we had great difficulty Xj! '. THE TIGER'S CAVE. . in preserving our footing. The thunder at length- began to roll, and resounded through the mountain passes with the most terrific grandeur. Then came -the vivid lightning, flash following .flash-above, around, beneath,-everywhere a sea of fire. We- sought a momentary shelter in a cleft of-the rocks, ' while bne of our guides hastened forward to seek a - more secure asylum. In a short. time he returned, and informed us that he had discovered a spacious cavern, which would afforl us. sufficient protection from the element. We proceeded thither immedi- ately; and with great difficulty, and not a little danger, at lastgot into it. . . The noise and raging of the storm continued with ' so much violence, that we could -not hear the :sound of our voices. I had placed myself near the entrance of the cave, arid could observe through the opening which was straight and narrow, the singular scene without. The highest cedar trees'were struck down or. bent like reeds; monkeys and parrots lay strewed upon the-- ground, killed by the. falling branches; the. water had collected in the path, and hurried along it like a mountain stream. From everything I saw, I thought .it, extremely probable that we should be obliged to pass several days in the- cav- ern. ' When the storm, however, had somew4hat abated, our guides ventured out in order to ncertain if it were possible to continue our journey. .-The cave in which we had taken refugef was so extremely dark, that if we moved a few paces from the entrance,' we could. not see an inch before us;- and we were rr,; page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 THE TIGER'S CAVE. debating as to the propriety of leaving it, even before the Indians came back, when we suddenly heard a singular groaning or growling-at the farther end of the cavern, which instantly fixed all our'attention. 'Wharton and myself listened anxiously; but oul daring- and- inconsiderate young friend, Lincoln together with my huntsman, crept about upon theil 'hands and knees, and endeavored to discover by groping, whence the sound proceeded. They had not advanced far, into the eavern, before we heard theme utter an exclamation of surprise; and they returned to us, each carrying in his arms an anima singularly marked and about the size of a cat, seem ingly of great strength and power, and furnished With immense fangs. Their eyes were of a greer ol'or strong claws were upon their feet; and a blood red tongue hung out of their mouths. Whartor had scarcely glanced at them, when he exclaimed ir consternation, "Good God! we have come into the den of a---." He was interrupted by afearful cry of dismay from four guide,- who came rushing pre cipitately towards us, crying out, '"A tiger! a tiger i and at the same time, with extraordinary rapidity they climbed up a cedar tree; which stood at the entrance of the cave, and hid themselves among the branches; ' Afterthe first sensation of horror and surprise which rendered me motionless for a moment, had subsided, I grasped my fire-arms. Wharton had 'already regained his composure and self-possession and he called to us to assist him instantly in blockina ' '. THE TIGER'S CAVE, " '.11 .- . t, a .' . up the mouth of the cave with an immense stone; which fortunately lay near it. The sense of approachl ing danger augmented our strength, for we now distinctly heard the growl of the ferocious animal; and we were lost beyond redemption if it reached the entrance before we could getit closed. Ere this was done, we could distinctly see the tiger bounding towards the spot, and stooping in order to creep into the den by the narrow" opening. At this fearful moment our exertions were success- ful, and the great stone kept ther wild beast at bay. There was .a small opening,-:however, left between the top-of the entrance; and the stone, through which we could see the head of the animal, illuminated-, by its glowingo eyes which it rolled, glaring with fury, upon us. Its frightful roarings, too, penetrated to the depths of the cavern, and were answered by the hoarse growling of the cubs, which Lincoln and Frank had now tossed from them. Our ferocous enemy attempted first to: remove the stone with his powerful claws, and then to push it with his head from its place: and- these efforts proving; abortive, only to increase his wrath. He uttered atremendous heart-piercing howl, and his flaming eyes darted light into the darkness of our retreat. "Now is the time to fire at him," said Wharton, withhis psual calmness. '"Aim at his eyes; the ball will go through' his brain,- andiwe shal1 then have a chance to get of him."- . Frank seized his double, barrelled shot gun, 'and Lincoln his pistols; the former placed the muzizle page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] I 6845 . " THE TIGER'S CAVE. wit hin a few- iniches of the- tiger, and Lincoln did the same-. At Wharton's command, they both drew the triggers at the same moment, but no shot followed. The tiger, who seemed aware that the flash indicated an attack upon him, sprang growling from the entrance; but: feeling himself unhurt, immediately turned -back again; and stationed himself in his former -iosition. The' powder -in both pieces was wet; they therefore proceeded'to draw the, useless loading, while, .Wharton and myself hastened to seek the: powder flasks. . It was so' extremely, dark thai we were obliged to grope about the cave ;' and at last, coming:in contact with the cubs, we heard a rustling noise, as if they were. playing with some metal substance, which we soon discovered was ,the canister we were looking for. Most unfortunately, however, the animals- had, pushed off the lid with their claws, and' the powder had been strewed over the damp earth, and rendnered entii'ely useless. This horrible discovery excited- the' greatest consternation. "All is now over," said 'Wharton. "We have only now to choose whether we wilt die of hunger, together with 'these animals who are shut up with us, or open the entrance for the blood thirsty monster without, and so make a quicker end of the matter." -SsayiJngie placed himself 'close beside the 'stone, which. for the moment defended. us, and -1oked undauntedly :upon the lightning ,ees of 'the tiger. Lincoln raved and swore;. and Fra ftook a piece of st ong cord. from' his' pocket, -and hastened to 'the farther end of the ceave-I. knew not with what , THE TIGER'S 'CAVE., '6 design. We soon, however, heard a low, stifled groaning; and the tiger, who heard it also, became more restless and disturbed than' ever. He went' backward and forward' before the enitrance of :the cave, in the most wild and impetuous manner, then stood still, stretching out his neck towards the forest, and broke into a deafening howl. : 'Our two Indian guides took advantage of. this opportunity, to discharge severat arrows from the tree. He was struck more than once, but the light weapons bounded back harmlessly from'his thick skin. At length, however, one of them struck him near the eye, and the arrow remained sticking in the wound. He now broke anew into the'wildest fury, and sprang at the tree, and tore it with his claws, as if he would drag it to the ground.- But having at length succeeded in getting rid of the arrow, he became more calm, and laid himself down as before; in front of the cave. .. Frank now returned from. the lower end of th den, and a glance showed us what he had been doing. In each hand, and dangling from the end of a string, were the cubs. He had strangled them; and before we were aware of what he intended, he threw them through. the opening to the tiger. No sooner did the animal perceive them, than he gazed earnestly upon themi and, began to examine them closely, turning ,them- cautiously from side to sidei, As soon as he became awaret ; at they were dead, he, uttered-so piercing a howl of sorrow, that we .were o.:ligedto put our hands to our ears. When I upbraided my * , . page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 OTIE TIGER$S CAVE. lufitsman e r act huntsman for the cruel action 'he had so harshy committed, I perceived by his blunt and abrupt answers, that he also had lost all hope of rescue, and that under the circumstances, the ties between master and servant- were dissolved. For- my own part, without knowing why, I could not help believ. ing that some unexpected assistance would yet rescue us from so' horrible a fate. Alas. I I little anticipated, the sacrifice that ffiy rescue would cost. The; thunder had now ceased, and the storm had sunk to a gentle gale; the songs of birds were again heard in the neighboring forest; and the sunbeams sparkled in the drops that hung from the leaves. We saw through the aperture that all nature was reviving after the wild war of elements- which had so recently taken place; but the contrast only made our situation the-more horrible. We were in a grave from which there was no deliverance; and a monster worse -than the fabled Cerberus, kept watch over us. The tiger had laid- himself down beside his whelps. He was a beautiful animal, of great size anid strength; and his limbs being stretched out at full . length, displayed-his immense power of muscle. A double -row of great teeth stood far enough apart to show his large red tongue, from which the white foam fell :in large drops,.. All at once another roar was heard at a distance,- and the tiger immediately rose and an- swered it with :a mournful howl. At the same instant. our Indians uttered a shriek which announced that .some new danger 'threatened us. A few moments confirmed our. worst fears, for another tiger ITHEI TIGER'S CAVE. 57 not quite so large as the .former, came rapidly i towards the spot where we were. "This enemy will prove more cruel than the other," said Wharton; "for this is the female, and she knows i;o pity for those who deprive her of her young. The howls which the tigress gave when she had 1 examined, the bodies of her cubs, surpassed every- thing horrible that we had: yet heard; and the tiger mingled his mournful cries witn hers: Sud- denly her roaring. was lowered to a hoarse growling, and we saw her anxiously stretch out her head, extend her wide and smoking nostrils and -look as if she were determined to discover immediately, the murderers of her young. Her eyes quickly fell upon us, and she made a'spring forward, with the intention of penetrating to our place of refuge. Perhaps she might have been enabled. by her immense strength to push away the stone, had" we not with all our united power, held it against her. 'When she-found that all her efforts were fruitless, she approached the tiger who lay strefched beside his cubs, and,.he arose -and joined in her hollow roarings. They stood "together for a few moments as if in consultation, then suddenly went okf at a rapid pace, and disappeared from our sight. Their howlings died away in the distance, and then entirely ceased. We now began to entertain better hopes of our condition; but Wharton shook his head. "Do not flatter yourselves," said he "with the belief that these animals will let you escape out of their page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] THE TIGE1R'S CAVE. sight till-they have had their revenge. The hours we have to live are numbered." Nevertheless, there still appeared a chance for our rescue; for, to our surprise, we saw both our Indians standing before the entrance, and heard them call to us td seize the only' possibility of our yet saving ourselves by instant flight; for the tigers had only gone round the height to seek another inlet to the cave, with whioh they were no doubt acquainted. In the greatest haste the stone was pushed aside, and we stepped -forth from what we had considered a living grave Wharton was thedlast who left it; he was utiwillingo- leave his double barrelled gun, and stopped to pick it up; the rest of us only thought of making -our escape: We now heard once more the roaring of the tigers, though at a distance; and, -foll6wing the example of our guides, we precipitately struck into a sede path. From the number of roots and brnches. of trees with which the storm had strewed our way, and the slipperiness of the road, our flight w'as slow and difficult. Wharton, though an active -seaman; had a heavy step, and had great difficulty in keeping pace with us, and we were obliged to slacken our own:on his account. W: e had proceeded thus for about a quarter of an hour, when we found that our way led along the edge of a rocky cliff,with immeasurable fissures. We had just entered upon it, when suddenly the Indians who; were 'before us, uttered -one of their piercing shrieks, and we immediately became aware that the tigers were m pursuit of us. Urgedby despair, we THE TIGERRS CAVE. 59 rushed towards one, of the -breaks or gulfs in, our way, over which .was thrown a bridge of reeds, that sprang up and down at every step, and 'could-with safety be trod by the light foot of the Indians alone. Deep in the hollow rushed an impetuous stream, and a thousand pointed and jagged rocks threatened destruction on ever -side. Lincoln, my huntsman and myself passed over the chasm in safety; but Wharton was still in the middle of the wavering bridge, and endeavoring to steady himself, when both the tigers were seen to issue from the adjoining forest, and the moment they descried us, they bounded towards us with dreadful roarings.- Meanwhile, Wharton had nearly gained the safe side of the gulf, and we were all clambering -the- rocky cliff, except Lincoln, who remained at the reedy bridge, to assist his friend to 'step upon firm ground. Wharton, though the ferocious animals were clos-upon him, never lost his courage or presence of milacr As soon as he had gained the edge of the cliff, he knelt down, and with the edge of his sword, divided the fastenings by which the bridge' was' attached to the rock.: He expeeed that an. effectual barrier would thus be put' to the farther progress of our pursuers, but he was mistakeh; for he had scarcely-accomplished his task, when the tigress, without a moment's pause, rushed towards the chasm, and attempted to bound over. . . It was a fearful sight to see the, mighty aMitiil suspended for a moment in the air, over the .abyss; but the scene passed like a flash of lightning. Her^- strength was not equal to the dist ane; :shea fell i-nto page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] - . I r OTH , TE TIGERS CAV the gulf, and before she reached the bottom, was torn into a thuosand pieces by the jagged points of the rocks. Her fate did not in the least dismay her. companion-:' He followed her with an immense spring and reached the opposite side, but only with his fore claws, and thus clung to the edge of the precipice, endeavoring to gain a footing.. The Indians again uttered a-wild shriek, as if all hope had been 'lost; but Wharton, who was nearest the edge of the rock, advance courageously towards the tiger, and stuck his sword into the animal's breast. Enraged beyond all reason, the wild beast collected all his remaining strength, and, -with a violent effort, fixing one of his hind legs upon the edge. of the cliff, he seized Wharton -by the thigh. The heroic man still pre- served his fortitude; he grasped the trunk of a'tree with his left hand to steady and support himself, while with his right, he wrenched and violently turned th word, that was still in the breast of the tge ' All this was the work of an instant. The Indians, Frank and myself hastened to his assistance; but' Lincoln, who was already at his side, had seized Wharton's gun which lay near upon the ground, and struck so powerful a blow with the but end upon the head:of :the tiger, that the animal, stunned and over-. powered, letgo his hold, and fell back into the abyss. All would have been well had it ended thus: but the unfortunate Lincoln had .not calculated upon , the force of his blow. He :staggered forward, reeled upon the edge of the precipice, exteided his hands page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] tions and died, not one step nearr the truth than when they began. Now our philosoher struggle eaey ad oi eM ANtD FRIENDS a inscrutable omystrict nsali bl t Put the Bible out Mofsight and how much will humn intellets dis over conerning our origin-our ultimate destin y? In tthe mo ning of tie, sages hpandled these vital quess tions, and died, not one step nearer the truth than when they began. Now our philosophers struggle earhestly and -honestly to make plain the same inscrutable mysteries. Yes, blot out the record of M:oses, ;and we would grope in starless night; for notwithstanding the many-priceesjs blessingsit has discovered for man, the torch. of science will never pierce and illume the recesses over which Almighty God has hun, his veil." [elected **. ---H-- .*' HOME AND FRIENDS. O, there's a power to make eaeh hour As sweet as Heavon designed it: - Nor/need we roam to'brig ithhome, Though few there be that find it: We seek too high for things close by, And lose what Nature found us; For-life hath here no e arms so dear, *Asbhome and friends around us. - We oie destroy the present joy - 'r: .F'ft e hopes--and praise them, ; . :W histi lowers as sweet bloom at our ifet, fwd.?bu\t eto is toraise them I - . :FVthpg af ar stili sweeter are. , Wh y ouith s brjit spel ea th bound us; - But t* we'e-re, taWh that earth hatht naught -;f-4. li hoxen nd fiends around us. ' .LAST W0ADS OF ROBE'RT 'EMMETT. . - . - s -; ' . . i" , .E. 8 Thee friend Whoo speeds in time of need, . When: Hope's: last reed iss shaken, To show you still that come what will, , We are not quiteforsaken ; Though all ter4enight, it-but:the lightf : rom F riendship's altar crowned us,- . - 'Tw0ld prove the. bliss of earth was this Our henme and friends aiund us,. : [Seletei. - LAST WORDS OF ROBERT EMMETT, THE fl TxSR PATRIOT.- IF the spirit of the illustrious dead participate in the concerns and cares o1 those who were dear to them in this transitory life-O I ever dear and ven- erated shade of my- departed father, look down with scrutiny upon the conduct of your suffering son,and see if I have, even for - moment;, deviated from those principles of morality and patriotism which it was your c te to instil into my youthful mind, and for which I am now to offer up my life. f' Lords, you seem impatient for the sacrifice; the bloodfor which you thirst is not congealed by the artificial terrors which, surround your icim: if -circilates warmly and-unruffled through the channels which God crea- ted for nobler purposes, but W iii you are bent to- destroy for purposes so grievous, that the er: to Heaven. Be oye patieint -I have but; a--few more words to say. I am- oing to" ti cod^and slen grave; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished; *; 9.* page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] J GR-OVARt Us IsT-ORIAL -- *AC race is ran; the grave; opens to receve me ancd TI :sir into its bosom. I have but one requiest to ask at my departure from this world- it is the charity of its silenee: iel ne manjwrite my epitaph,. for as no, man who knows my motives: dare now vindicate $themr let Ot prejudee or ignoranee -aserse. Let thim and me repose min oscurity, and my tomb: remain *inseribed, nti other timds and other men canai do justine to my character. :When my country takea her place -among the nationa of the earth, the and not til thenta let my epitaph be- written I have done . ' Selected. A CURIOQlS HfSTORICAL FACT . DuRn' G tie troubles in ,tlhe 'e of., Charles I. eaunti'y girl canis to Londonein search of a place as a servant girl ; but not succeeding, she hired herself to earryl oit beer from a brewthouse- anmd ws one of : those called: tub women. The brewer observing a good lookinig girl in this low oceupation, toolk her into his family as a serxvat, --and after a short time married her; but he died whlfle yet; he was a yoGtng woman, n left her the bulk of his fortune. The business of the brewery wa: fropped, and to the' yotng wan,.was: r:e;oremended-Mr.-Hyde, -as skiplla.,l lawye r to artrange ht hsnd^ds busminess aff ars.; .iydew wQ was afterwards-the great Earl of * COlarendoni fnding the widow's fortune very consid : : .^ .,"... 4" .I IMMENSITY .O ORE CEATIO. 6 erable, married her. Of this marriage there as no other is8sue than a daughter, who'was dfterwards the wife of James II. and mother of Marytand Anne, Queens. of England. :- Slected. IMMENSITY OF -OREATIO N. He who through vast immensity can pierce, See worlds on worlds compose one universe; Observe how system into system runa, I Wthat other planets circle other suns; What varied beings people every sta,. ' .- May tell why God has made us as we are. PFPE. Some astronomers have computed that there are no less than 75,000,000 of suns in this universe. The fixed stars are all sans, having, like our sun;, numer- ous planets revolving round them. The solar system, or that to. which we belong, has about thirty planei, primary and secondary, belonging to it. The circular field of space which it occupies is in diameter three thousand six hundred millions of miles, and that which it controls much greater. That sun which is nearest neighbor to ours is celled Sirius, distant from our sun about twenty-two billions of miles. Now, if all the fixed stars are as distan't from each- other as Sirnus is from our sun; or if our solar, system be' the avera age magnitude of all the systems of the 75,000,00 of suns, what imagination can graspj te imiensit of creation Every sun of-the 75,0000,000 control a- field of space about 1,000,000,000 of miles in d-: eter. page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] J ^ A TOBlE REENG A YOtrN - oicer (in what army no matter) haa so fr ortten imself, i a moment of iritation, as. to s tik . piivat te ".soier full of psonal . dinity (.s -ometimes hiapensfin all ranks, and distingnuishedc for his cou ge I The. inexorable laws of military -iipline forbade to tie injured sold;ierany practical rreaes&-he eoui'i tokfO-. no retaliation by acts. Words only we;e at is command, and in a tumult of :in mignation, a he tiurnea wayithe soldier said to his f oeor, tthat h ie Bie ?maie him repent it r Thiisr w:eawr g.,ithe aBape-^of wmeace, naturally rekindled the ofioee:i9 anger, and interoepted any disposition which ighit le pg gwith!,in hinm teward a sentiment 'of rin ^- E t 'the iBrutation between the two yQn2i9p 4 g- rw!oiter thari .before. o I:eeks aftei this, a prtial aetion took place -]im e ne ujpyy. Su- ppose youraelf a pectator and -iooking- ,ato ; valley occ ed by the two :armes. They : are fa ingheach other, you see, in ' art:. - ; tt- it, i: m el mo re tiian a skirmish - {w^ : g .ton,. o n/ the -course of whiic, however, A:. .b1, h ,F!lae ttheeen y's h..a nds, t ,::B: tre at" y prneie: and 'nder :ctrm- 8O*-iY #r4 hdm, ioty. s a- sa'trong, prty )4 o leunqgtee fo te ;g:seryi:e 5 slre isa cry- for MGX l18body to t; -i you see a soldier step out " ' n * q . ' f . - 3 'from the ranks to assume this ;dangerous leadership. The party moves. rapidly forwrd; in a few minutes it is swallowed up from your eyes in cloudsof smoke or one half hour from behind these louds yon rebeive hierogliphie reportsp of:bIoody. strife e repeating signals, flashes from the guns, rolling mus- ketry, and exulting-hurrahs advancing or:receding- slackening or redtlubling: . At length all ,s over; -ite-redoubt hatheen reaei ered; that which wa lost is fotiend .again ; the jwei which had beena'made captive i ransomed with bloocd Crimsoned- with glorious gore the wreck of the con- quering party is relieved tad-iat liberty to retur, From-the river you see it asending., Theplume- crested officer rushes 'forward, with his left hand raising his hat in homage to the blackened fragments of what once was a fiag, whilt with his right hand he seizes that -of the leader, though no more than a private from- the!ranks. *V at; peplexs you not mys, ery you: seenone ,in, that. 'For" dista t o orderperish, ranks are;eonfouned; " ehi anlow. are words withont a meaning, :ad to wreekgos , every notion or fee ing ,t ha da esh ,-;, the nobleor the brave man:frpon the hra -l: But wlherefre is itithat hnow, when suddenly they wheel inpto mutual cg4 i sude nly e;pe' t Ths Soldi er, su enl tey, pas 7 Once bfore:they: had;sto facei te t- 4dir wt1at was struck, theQc zthai stre him. Oce- again I ,the are meelng;^n th giazg -armisis uponuthe,. If for a' mme:nt dbtib dest1i/i e, * . - ' * 00 , * '. 4% . ' * . ' - * , - ' " page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] iFW BDSATt1. in a moment the doubt has perished. One glance exchanged between them publishes. the forgiveness that is seared 'forever. As one who recovers a bro- ther whom he has accounted dead, the offiber sprang' forward, threw his arms around the neck of the sol- dier and kissed, him, as if he were some martyr, glorified by that shadow of death from which he was returning; whilst on his part, the' soldier, stepping 1ek, carrying his open hand throlgh the beautiful fi otions of the military salute to a superior, makes this. moral answer-that answer which shut up for- ever the memory of the indignity offered to him, ven while for the last time alluding to it: "Sir," he said,' "I told you before that I would make you repent it." DEATH,--We thought nothing new could be said about death, but Tailor,; o'the Chicago Journal, has the foll wing ideas: "There is a dignity about that going. a way lone, we call dying; that wrapping the mantle of immortality ghout us; that putting- aside with a' pale hand, the azure curtaijis that are drawn abo-t this cradle of a world; that venturing away from home,- for the first time in our lives, for we are not dead; :there is nothing dead to speak of, and seeing: foreign *ountries not laid down in any maps we know about.' -.There must be lovely lands somnewhere. starward, for none ever return who go thither; and we- very m'uch doubt if any would if they :could. , [Selected. - S OLILQUY OF T HE. srmIT; r SOLILOQUY ,OFr THEI SPIRIT OVER IT-S OLAY. [This very peculiar and orignal poemlMaS'a interet and a a usie of its own.- Ti wondrous 'strange-it looks as deaid. And yet I fee' no fear; My body lies npon the bedt And I am standing here' With all my faculties complete--. A perfect man from the'crown of my head To the soles f my- feet: ' . Dead I dead I what an earthly word t A br now I see it all U I was wont to laugh at the truths I hoard Of the life behind the pal; ' Of the dbath-inle and theife4in-death-. And held that the easingof the breath -Was the final end of all. But I have ffed from what is deadi And will arm the lay no more, That lies so ceaseless on the bed, . Deaf to those who deplore The absence of the Iring ray That saved the body from deiay^., And held the worm in awe. - " . . * ' 'But what wii my diarling sayto thi When she hears I hatepassed .way, . And knows the lips she was wont to kisf :Are palif, curves of clay? . Wii die for the want of the olden bl .- (^ re- for the heart's Teeay .' : ' *' ;1" ! ' , page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] I; I 70 MORGAN IN NASHVILLE. My only wish is to see her now- Gi'at Heaven I and can it be I There she lies with her curl-lit brow, Dreaming a dream of me. Dreaming a dream of the man that stands , Here by her side to-night; And kisses the white of her heavenly hands And her eyelids' vailing light. Ah I now I know that, I will go, Where my true affections are, And what I love below or above Will be my guiding star; And the light that I see cometh to me Undimmed by the clay that lies, Stiff and stark in the growing dark,. In the glow of the tropic skies. O r narrow tBe space I was compassed in, Chained to a lump of earth, And darkened by clouds of grief and sin , 'f From the moment of my birth? But I am ifree as thought can be, And am where my wishes are-- And pure and bright with the lucent light That flows from the Lord afar, Making me shine with rays divine' Eternity cannot mar. - [Slected. MORGAN IN NASHVILLE. WE learn- from an authentic source, that great excitement was created in Nashville a few days since, by the report that John H. Morgan was stopping in that city, overnight, at a well knownUb ding house. The Federal Provost Marshalammedatiey ordered 'r in, ADVENTURE OF A TRAPPER. 71 out a large force for his capture. The house was- surrounded in such a manner as to make escape utterly impossible, and the officer who had charge of the expedition feeling sure of his game, demanded, with some show of politeness, that the notorious Gen. Morgan should be brought out and delivered to the Federal authorities, quietly, in order to prevent bloodshed. The gallant Federalist was somewhat- chagrined when he was informed that such a process would be highly detrimental to the health of John. H. Morgan, who had arrived the night previous, and was six hdurs old-a patriotic lady having bestowed that honored name upon her new-born boy. Atlanta Confederacy. ADVENTURE OF A TRAPPER. SOME years ago a trapping party were on their way to the mountains, led, we believe, by old Subtlette, a well known captain of the Weest. Among the band was John Glass, who had been all his life among the mountains, and had seen, probably, more exciting adventures and had had more wonderful and -hair- breadth escapes than any of the rough and hardy fellows who make the far west their home, and whose lives are spent in a succession 0tr perils and plriva tions. On one of the rtreams running ffom: the "Black Hills'," a range of mountains northward -'of the Platte,' -OIgs and a companion were, one; day, page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] %1 * AD-VfUNLOE 0? A T setting their traps, when, on passing through a cherry thicket whiiec skirted the stream, the former, who was i. eaa'e descried a large grizzly bear quietly tu ring *tf with , er nose, hunting for pig- azti 0:hlakss; immediately called his companion, and &4th pioceediig eaiuOusiy, ucrept to the skirt of the thicket, and taking steady aim -at the animal, dis chargingtheir rifles at the same instant, both balls takig eectf'at iu otinlicting a mortal wound. The begiiing Sgroan of tgony, jumped with all his fti h le-infeXr e the ground and charged at once upon b -wr ll^iig witi pain and fury "Hurrai, ]3iE1'" -roared out Glassf as. he saw -the ai^ a1 hi8 g- ttowar wads them, "' we'll be made meat fo suare ashootin'J" He thenabolted through the thicket, closely ollowed bf hihpiii-i. The brush was so thiok that they couldscarcely make their way through, while the weight and strength of the bear carried him through ilit -btsionbabns,* and he was soon close upon them. Ab-iQahdre yards from the thicket was a steep Mbff; elas shouted tohis companion to make to this ' i' his only chance.'.- They -flew across the inter- ening--^ pe and level- space like lightfing. ' When ear:ry: :&cr-G4'ass' tripped over a stone and fell, ana juiitas he ros te bear rising on. hs hind feet, eon- fi-nd ie-him;. - : i he c osed, Glass never losing his iPreice I fmid, ied to hi -tompanion to Ilose up kiidad disch arge his pistol full into the b6dy of etiue h e-a .th e, msment .tl the bear, wi th b -t:.i"amng fromi his :nose and mouth' knocked ' , .. ADW TRI: OF A TiAPPiR 7: thepistol fromhi hihand With one blow ofi paw, and fixing its claws deep in his flesh, rolled with him to the ground. The hunter, not ithstanaiiig his hope less situation, struggled manfully, rawing his knife and plunging it several times: into the body f the beast, which, furious with pain, tore witi tooth and claw the body-of the wretehed victim, actuallybaring the ribs of flesh and exposing the boines. Weak' from loss of blood, and blinded witlMblood whfir raied'- from his lacerated scalp 'the knife atleniil':fell"foim his' hand, and Glass sank down* insensibl ai iippa- rently dead. . , His ,companion, who, up to this i oment had. watched the .onflict which, however, lasted but' a few seconds, thinking thIat his turn would teomdiex-t, and not having even presence ot 'nfnd ,ng1i to; load his gun, fled back t. caip and naramted 'e miserable fta of poor las ' The captin *f te band of trappers, however, dispatcic the' man wit: a: campanion back:to- the. sp:t. : reahing %he plaee, 'which wai rd wi th blood,:thyT found i la- still breathing, aid the:bear da ad stiff actuall lying on his body, Poor GlO's esenad -oi 'spectale ; the flesh was torn i:n itips from i oisie- and limbs, aerd his'-cap hung' bleeineg overt if ace; which waa also lacSratied i a shocki maeb T bear, besides the th-iee bue ibieti blr g odj, mounta neer. 4iaig "tt'-nf-nbt ,'d d' - the poor fellow could not possibly survive more than * G -.. . page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 ADVENTURE O1 A TRAPrPERl a few mmemts,.the men collected his arms, stripped him of even his hunting-shirt ,and mogeasins, and merely pullig the dead bear off from $he b6dy, they returned to their party, reporting that Glass was dead and that t}ey had buried him. In a few days, the gloom which pervaded the trappers' camp, at his loss, disappeared, and the incident, although frequently mentioned over the camp-fire, at length was almost entirely forgotten in the excitement of the hunt and athendia'perils which surrounded them. Months:elapsed, the hunt was over, and the hun- ters were on their way fo the trading fort with their - packs of beaver. It was nearly sundown, and the round adobe bastions of the fort were just in sight,. wheie, a, ehoeman was seen slowly approaching them ong:. ttie antcks of*the river. 'When near enough to discerin his figure, they saw a lank,. cadaverous. form wih a ee aso scarred and disfigured that scarcely a featre w as djs:ernible, approaching the leading horemen, onep of whom happened to be the compan- iou ,if the defunct Glass in his memorable bear sorpe. The straneri in a hollow voice, reining in hisbioe before th em, said, ', Uwrar OBillmylb oy! -you thought I was 'gone unPer,'^idy:u* -tBut hand .me ver iy horse and gUN laI. Iaint dead yet, -by atong shot." What wa te astonhmSent opf ;te 'whole party, and the g aue]B i polrt fBll. andhis worthycompanion in the ' b.,4t ry, to 'hear the well known but now altered vQeoft JokThhn Ollas. ,who had been killed by a f ' ',* '. I , ; ; ' - . r .v : : THE GOLDEN SUXSiT. '7 grizzly bear months before, and comfortably interred as the two men had reported and all had believed I There he was, however, and no mistkae; and all crowded round to hear from .his lips, how after the lapse of, he knew not-how long, hegradually recov- ered, and being without arms, or even butcher knife, :he had fed on the almost puttid a'caass of. the bear for several days, until he had regained sufficient strength to crawl, when, tearing off as much of the bear meat as he could carry in his enfeebled state, he crept down the river. -Suffering; ecessive torture from his wounds and hunger and cold, he made the best of his way to the fort which was some eighty or ninety miles distant; and living mainly upon roots and berries, he after many days, arrived in a pitiable tate, from which he had now recovered, and was,'to-use his own expression, "as slick as an onion." Sected. THE GOLDEN SUNSET. The golden sea its mirror spreads Beneath t;le golden skies, . And but A narrow strip between Of lad ind shiadbw lies. : The cloud-like rocks, the rock-like clouds, - . Diol edinglot y at-; t ^ And-midway ofthe radantflod^ , 4 *; -. . langa silently theboat. ' -'The seais-but anothesyv .ek . The sky aid se as weil; . ... , : And which is earth, and which the heavens, T he eye can scarc ely tl. '- -- .. . .- page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 A GLIMPsE FROM MOU1T KEBrNWESAW. , ...So when for us life's evening hour - ^ ' Igad ;: '-f. ' j Oi and f' ading a 1lh dease nd, : - i0 'th epeac, htl stpiri floas, : ' -. p gWit^h silet riqgr 1row;. 'Til wh re eartdh eads Fd he-ten 6in* , r *t . ; t of its. ' Iroxii-to an i mmol t , , and a s A GeMPt SE aiOM Mi. E iNNESoAW. IT is awoomitX^Buaermornipg In company pEep W here the haf sraiOtle ed. laes of babutle renof wts -viry 4to an ammarte I battle field, and a ba tied withe lo6h of the rsinen who are swarngr Ab ou-ints Tg base, crouched ready for Wa ' g v o the g i' fehere wie ar stniang ll -qu iet afi& rin' NIOus. is herelE. .. BoQw s-,.atrong ih'e opposite pln r ^- ealf smothered ames of battle Qo-y -ttit -th ^e4rvaqlft rday-f^^ i fiorth with OrcDa^ a * iB a fer.-A' 4rftr a few wcl^wePn, (^Ah- ^ e2!aaght from ihe- weln %!4fi 681 stthied, we Yto the si- .eveaiinghuta few ,yjr a windlng A GLIM? PSE. FRM MOtTON-ESw. 7.7 trail, along which weloda Idia:n i1e, iW thrugh a copse of 'undeowih; and n we"a ledg' of sharp roks. On and ip we ingo' g to rest, to take; a fresh pi't a r:tc'ante; -a indulge in a jolke. "Said t "I' -' ; .- ', "-4' "Oomrades, I have beeuF ftir" e l rather heap- were thi: .m6rni ' .r g tO: Jm . on Johnson's Island or alt' Camp :Ohisea. : W knoiw buit that te--are ieven noin fie 'h i doff tE& blue devils?' A quic,'] searchin:j glance on ',e:er hand, and a clutch at- theo repeater toIt . ta sensitive chord was totched. "'What thiink of' such aprpecpt,",tred?' askof mynar & . " *Cr F fa 3:;4r';e"4 " 0- t 'ltiright it if f tes o -de. :si with- af T:ated 6colilness. i : 1' the * b able to ufrish us witph 'hai n4 hft qeod ^ tiiber ut awtay by the sigaS w some time occupied o the posititoit, T of a chain; *of- picet& 6eir themii *:1 - mountain, we strugl6onovef ; brushs" ; O-till- t lichff a in t'huwier i^6 ibr^Xs who is rhear 7stt a'eV3 . *st himsself te? tat lfr aitet!"himA ad pistlshoutig htsly, vi prisoner;" ,n act 'whieli almostiim' wth -G*:c81n-c:Pt-lt3j' lil page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 A GLIMPSE FROM MOUNT KENNESAW. chagrin, when he discovered that in his haste, he had surrendered to our own signal sentry. Mater, were soon amicably adjusted, and we sat down -.4a/ o to laugh 'over our adventure, and- wait dev9lop- ments, for as yet the iidoIent mountain has not thrown off its nocturnal wrappings; but see, the sunbeams ar- at work, melting away the misty fetters, and now, as if with a mighty hand, the vail is rent and rolled back to the northward revealing to the eye much mpor than my enthusiastic imagination had pictured in anticipation. Where shall I turn? What shall I vievr fist?? The eye seems lost in a bewildering laby- inth of beauty. ' A worldseems spread out in virgin -purity amy feet Ibhaveclambered to crage3 pe aks in the far West, and scanned interminable forests, bioad rivers and far reaching prairies; have stood spell bouad qnoa barren cliff; frowning upon the rest- less Atlantic, and have feasted the vision on the wild scenery through which surges the glancing Shenari- doa whin it mingles its mutterings with the music, of the fir Potomac Yet the panoramic view from the cresd of Kennesaw, though simple in its contour possesses a bewitching grace, a grandeur ip extent, which I have seldom sen surpassed. The view is not limited to one ort two points of the compass, but yetheyry sweep over axbeautifully, variegated land- soa'p for, a. hnndred miles on either hand. 'Tis one -c a's fa^re st pietures, and when,. two centuries -hinie the d rama now being here enacted shall have grown mellow in the midst of-time,. when this spot s * * X AGLIMPSE FROM .MOUNT EENNESAW. 7' shall have become the subject of romance and poesy it shall claim a bnlliiriplr imiNatric fame, On the South side, three miles below usin the va] ley may be seeahitquiet village of Marietta, rastin in a pleasant grdve, 'while twhnty miles beyond th soft outline of the horizon :is brken by the gleamin1 spires and solitary dome of the Gate City.. .A fsv degrees to the east and sixteen beyond Atlanta, loom] up in majestic grandeur that far famed granite pile- Stone Mountain. -In its bold; bare 'appearance it re sembles some huge sea monster, rising from the wave to shake itself in the morning sunlight. And, nov directly east, some eight miles distant, Bush Mount ain, quite a prominent peak, claims our notice, which together with Lost Mountain, reposing in a deris forest, eight miles directly west of Kennesaw, consti tutes important; links in the Blue Ridge chain,.which stretches away until it melts into soft blue undulation! towards the rising sun. To the northward the ey flies:away over farm and-forest town, river and ham let, 'till it is lost in the shadowy peaks, among whise historic Lookout may be traced against- the sky These mountains, about eighty miles to the north ward of Klonnesaw, mark the terminus of Alleghany', cloud-capped range,. andcomplete the variegated pan orama which sprang like magie from the morning mist to greet my wondering gaze. .,. ' i - . But hark I the sullen sounds of battle, arising from the valley along the northern base of this grand obser- vatory of nature, breaks the charm of a pleasant revery and reminds us that the demon of war is rattling page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 A GLIMPSE FROM MOUNT KENNESAW. his chains at our very feet. With the first clouds of morning mingles the smoke from fresh sacrifices, on -crimsoi altars.- The lines of batle, twelve miles in length, *with eentre resting between tWo ard four miles from the; mountain, may be disnctly traced without the aid of a glass for some three miles east and West.; The trnictes: are erowded to their lutmost capacity,; and th'avy-musketry has commenced along thel lne for miles, and now a short distane 'to the right, two Yankee batteries opens a furious fire and are answered with equal' warmth by the brazen dogs who. confaront them. For an hour this duelling con- tinues without intermissions and ceases as abtubtly as it was m-comenced, ieaving the-silence t to be broken only by the sharp and coutinued volleys of musketry. The sun is now on the zenith, pourigS his fierce rays down without mercy upont those exposed lines, yet noft a post is vacant in the rebel ranks ;-each eye is steaily 'i don its antagonist; each musklet . is sending forth its deadly messenger. 'Tis- now four' o'clock, and- the scene changes. ' Four miles to tthe westward, fom -the borders of a grove, two mammoth batteries spring suddenly into: vew, pouring a torretit of shat a iidshell iihto- a forest which conceals 'our guns..' The:fire is slowly shifted along the line from west to east till: it reaches the centre, when a prom- inent battery opens for the first time, dropping an ugtl^':e^ I the: mfidsh t ofthe blue ouats. t IR falls like a spark into a powder magazine. Almost instantly three eor Ousa batteries in response, hurl a tremen- dous shower of hissing shot across the intervening , STARTLING BRUMOR1S.. 81 space, For two-long hours thiis, witheingg, fire was concentrated upon our devoted band who sent back an occasional fierce reply with the greatest precision. Tis now sunset. The last golden flush of evening is resting upon the landscape glowing with a dreamy softness through the haz, misty atmosphere, The signal flag is waving its symbolic language from the mountain's gilded crest, while desultory shots in the valley tell that the day's fighting is passed. Thevis. itors, some mounted and some on foot are preparing to descend to the valley. I cast one farewell glance at the scenery now growing dim and shadowy in the twilight and reluctantly leave the summit. During the descent, our party received a charming accession, in the person of a wonderfully handsome and interesting Esculapian disciple, whose store of wit seemed inexhaustible, and who insisted upon being called Salatiel, or the Wandering Jew, a:per- sonage whom I have nodoubt he ver much 'resem. bled, as with a long staff in hand, Be- strode through the gatlering shadow - At last the vaeley is reached the gliiimeriin lights od Marietta appear, and the form of Kennesaw is swallowed up in night. June 16th, 1864. STARTLIG BuMOs.-I; issaidthat a Mehodist preaeher-in South-western Virginia, in riding ariouad cirouit, lost his way an stopped st at a hou' e for some directions. Anb old la1y came :out, and giving him the desired information, asked him if he had page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 THE"FEDERAL SPY. any news. He said he had :not; and asked her if she had any. A 'Yes," sai4-she. "There was an, exerWr came along here this morning, and said that the Yankees was a mortifyin over at Blacksburg, and Mr. Goslin's critter cormany come along and drove 'em away. He said the news had come on the pettigrass. wire, to Cbristiansburg, that the preserves wB all called out, and the State of Virginny was to be vaccinated; and whiile he was telling it, the provokin guard come along and interested him." THE FEDERAL SPY. IT seems to be the prevailing opinion, that the' legions of evil which follow in the fiery train of war, will never succeed in storming the citadel of a heart guaiided by principles of morality, or in marring the grace and tone of anupright character; that although, the man s-ayeed by their evil influences, may have worn thee guise of rectitude in the hour of peace and social sunlight, nevertheless, nourished in his 'breast the seeds of discord, which only needed the poisonous dews of-a moral night, to animate and -fully develop: thiem. 'This heart enemy, who, 'passively slumbered inthe chains of political and social restraint, comes forth with giant powers from his' stronghold, to revel in the crimson tide of war, and the whirl- . . . THE FEDERALL SPY. 83 wind of civil commotion, This theory will only prove true, when characters are: matured and well based. upon a ground-work of enlightenment. Of this fact the present political contest, this national ordeal, has furnished ample evidence, for turn the eye where ever you may, you will witness the sad wreck of many a young but:romising character, dashed upon the breakers of this fanatical strife. Woe I woe to the land which nurses a civil fued at its breast. It will prove a viper, with the sting of death.. . The subject of the following-sketch possessed by nature a depraved disposition, a clouded nature, tinc. - tured with evil. Although in youth his placid face, and mild expressive eyewould have bespoken an inoffensive character, young Wright had slumbering. in his heart, passions and desires, which were one day to doom the man to abject slavery. Before he became of age, this evil nature began to illustrate itself in small thefts, and tales of deceit. H is parents being simple and illiterate, were of course incompetent to meet and baffle this growing evil. As he grew in years, he descended step by step the social scale, until he became an accomplished gambler and robber and had stained his hands with human blood. At twenty-two he was a noted outlaw, with ' no home, no friends,.-saye those who were 4is accom- plices in crime. On-ce, and only once, in his wild and sinful career, he displayed a desire to reform; but ere -he had taken many steps in a new course, 4s firmness forsook him. Old associations, andold k 6fos an page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 THE FEDERAL SPY. desires, came thronging with such force and attrac- tiveaess uppn him, that he was swiftly and irretriev- ably, borne- back to the haunts of- crime and sinful dissipation. Twas during that temporary triumph of the better man, that Wright had been induced to take a young and thrifty wife to hit new home, where, for months, naught occurred to disturb the hours of tranquility which followed his marriage.- In the course of time, a little bright eyed boy was sent to bless the alliance. Little Reuben was his mother's idol; around him her affections clustered,?oi him her hopes were centered. He had also a strong hold upon the affections of the desperado; even in his wildest fits of rage and intoxi. cation, the face and smiles of his cherub boy, would completely unnerve his-among the poisonous weeds in the sterile desert of his heart, there was one green pot sacired to affection. His selfish, discordant nature, possessed one cord unsnapped-by the gnaw- ings of vice; yet, theme attractions,. strong as they were were not sufficient to wean him from sinful habits. -: He forsook all and plunged again into the mazes of sin. For weeks and months, were his family tlhrown upon the charity of the cold-unfeeling would. , Q how often has the picture of that dismal, deserted home; -that pale, emaciated mother, and f l4Qj, child, arisen before my mind*-like a restless phantom, haunting my memory day afterday. When advised to return to her home and friends, her eyes filled with tears, and with trembling voice she replied: "Home, did you say? O, how sweet and musical THE FEDERAL SPY. 85 to me that word once was. But now, alas! it only reminds me that I have no home; no parents, no friends. They are all sleeping in the church yard, while I remain to pace the dismal chamber of a living grave. Alone, alonel. with a withered heart, and a smiting conscience. My God how earnestly I have prayed to die, that I might be at rest, in a home beyond the cares, the fleeting, cheating pleasures, which have thus far mocked my miserable existence; and yet, I shudder at the approach of death. I cannot nerve myself to unclasp the seal of my being; though I fear, that in moments of despair, I should have added this guilt to my burden of sins, but for the thought of my angel babe; my darling offspring. O, I must livel I I mist endure, that I may guard him from harm, and teaclh his feet to shun the paths of sin. ' None but her Maker ever knew, what anguisl racked the wounded heart of that forsaken wife-and mother. Even amid the darkest hours-which frowned upon her thorny path, she had indulged in hopes of her husband's ultimate :reformation, but in this she was doomed to disappointment . The tocsin of war rang out its':wild alarms; south- ern patriots rallied to their:new standard, and southern blood began to flow in the cause of independence, but Wright's name never stood upon a muster roll. He never came forward to plant himself upon the frontiers of his native land, but steadily pursued his course in a field, wide extended, ,with but few gallng restraints to check his illegal and profligate acts. * * $' page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 36 . THE FEDERAL SPY. Soon after the fall of- onelson, and evacuation of Nashville, it was reported that Wright was in the service of the enemy. Although his actions were mysterious:and somewhat suspicious, the report of his treachery was little credited. He very seldom made'his appearance in public during the day; but at late hours of thee night his horse's hoofs might often be heard clattering along the forest road leading to his eabin; where lights were burning, and shouts and bacchanalian songs broke the stillness of the night. his movements were narrowly watched, and he was fully aware ,of it. --He- one day made his appearance at a public gath- ering, where, after drinking pretty freely, he became entangled in a drunken brawl. Knives and pistols were -freely. used, and Wright stabbed one of the pairty, inflicting several severe wounds, then sought Safety in flight; but his enemies, like bloodhounds, wre close upon his track. It was soon ascertained that he had taken refuge in his own house, and it :was determined by his exasperated, neighbors, not to await the slow and uncertain course of law, but to take the ca. in their own hands, and mete out to the desperado- a just punishment for this glaring offence. So, in less than an hour, twenty sturdy, determiried metn, were-on the trail of their prey. They did not find'him napping, but as usual, on the alert.' He despied them before their plans were perfected, and wiwhirifie :and pistol in hand, again endeavored-to escape. by flight;: .but as he bounded off towards a copse hazle, the clear ring of a half dozen rifles THE FEDERAL SPY. 8" awoke the echoes of the forest, and his hat and cloth- ing were pierced by as many balls. 0On he leaped; with redoubled speed; but suddenly, there appeared directly before him two of the party, -which- had endeavored to surround him. -They instantly raised their pieces and demanded his surrender; but uttering a curse, he 'discharged .his rifle at-the mforemrbst, and darted into-an;outhuilding, shutting and barring the- door after him. A yell of triumph now -wen* up from all quarters, in anticipatioh of certain success; but the hunters did not appreciate the mettle of their game, for as they gradually closed up around bhe' building, a rifle was suddenly thrust between 'the logs, and'a sharp report rang out, to mingle with the groans of a wounded man. At this the party fell back out of range, in angry disappointrent at being thus baffled by a single adversary, who now indulged in a fiendish laugh of satisfaction and 'bitter curses, at the-same time, bidding them resume. the attack at their leisure. In vain did they strive to approach that log retreat; for as often as they made the attempt they were met, and repelled by the grinning muzzle of a rifle, with the accuracy, of which they w'ere but 'too well acquainted. ' Night soon came on, and put to -flight all- hopes of the outlaw-s 'capture for the time being; but his days were -numbered;, his evil, race was nearly run. . - A few weeks after the above occurtence,- Wright was recognized while stealthily gliding about a little valley, in which the rebel leader, Morgan, Was encamped while recruiting. .He was challenged by ,e W e recru a e geN page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 THE FEDERAL SPY. the picket, but putting spurs to his horse, he dashed away at full gallop. followed by a musket ball. As was expected the camp was attacked the next night, but being' fully prepared for any such emergency. the assault was gallantly met 'and repelled. Con- spicuous in the retreating columns of the enemy, pranced and galloped the fiery gray of Wright's. This settled the question ps to who had piloted the Federal ban&. From this time the character of Wright bore the public seal of traitor and spy, and dire vengeance was breathed against-him by his enraged countrymen, 'Time" wore on, chaining together mighty eventst arising from the 'sanguinary struggle, and but little was-heard of Wright until the fall of 1862. The memorable battle of Corinth had been given to the-pen of the historian, and our invincible army again confronted the invaders near Murfreesboro:, Tennessee. Between the armies lay a belt of neutral ground, over which the daring scouts of both forces, as well-as independent guerrillas, felt that they were licensed to rove. In the midst of this unoccupied section of country, just as an autumn day was wearing to its close, two horsemen, well mounted and equiped, mitht have been seen riding leisurely along a wind- ing pathway, which in many places, became almost" obscured by withered foliage. They were both hale, robust looking. men, with long hair and beard, and dark' bronzed features, shaded by broad brimmed hats. Overcoats of gray jeans,' entirely concealed their uniforms and rank. That they were soldiers was plainly indicated by their equipments, which con- H'. E FEDERAiL SPY. 89 sisted of a brace of repeaters, hanging from a -belt, together with a breech-loading rifte, swung ove, the shoulders by means of a strap. From all appearances the parties had ridden very hard, for their horses were worn and tired, and often needed the spurs to keep them in a reasonable gait. The horsemen.(who were no less personages than Captain Bond, and Lieutenant Hays, of the rebel guerrillas,) had been riding for some time in perfect silence, each as if by mutual consent, wrapped in the solitude of his own thoughts. But at length Hays observed:; "Captain, where do you propose 'stopping over night? 'Twill require a degree of prudence to avoid getting into a hornet's nest, as I believe a majority of the settlers in- this vicinity have, some from neces- sity, and many from choice, espoused the Federal-. cause.' . "'Tis true," replied Bond, "we are in the midst of our enemies; but I have heard of an old tavern: keeper living upon this road, who is still; a firmt patriot. Let me see, whatis his name? Ah, I have it, Lynch is the namer Michael Lynch;, more fre-e quently called Old Mike. - He cannot live -far from here. ^With him we will find comfortable quarters, and I feel confident, that he can give me;all neces sary information concerning the movemen:si-f the enemy. If I am thus fortunate, to-morrow'sitsunet will find us near our camps again. HRow:iald"aad tranquil seems the weather.", . -- . "Yes, indeed, I was only a moment since thinking that such a sunset would better become an evening H* page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 THE FEDERAL SPY. in May than October. Would to God I that such tra;nuiiity would again pervade the political atmos- phere of our dear land' , "I fully appreciate your setiment, but fear that the fires of fanaticism and discontent, which have been':kindled at the North, can only be quenched by the-blest blood of oar countryt." Atlhis :point in their conversation, they were-sud- denly interrupted by the unexpected appearance of a -horseman, who' emerged from a grove beside the road. With instinctive caution they grasped their weapons, for they were on dangerous ground, and great precaution was necessary to prevent falling into t snare; but as the individual before them appeared to be alone they rode fearlessly on. The stranger was a roughi uncouth looking being, armed with a long squirrel rifle, and a savage looking knife -thrustm in his girdle, and mounted upon a splendid gray horse. He did not attempt to avoid the approach- intg horsemen, but. on the contrary, checked' his own steed until they approached, wher, after passing the compliments of the day,' the three rode on together. After losely scanning the - appearance of thee new comer, the suspicions of Bond became aroused, and with a wink at-Hays he began-to interrogate him. :-My. friend, you- live near here, do you not?" '"Well,-yes-;' that is, I have a. cabin not far off where: I;stop some times,. but the major part of the :tnme I live in the saddle." * W :ith a look at his companion, Bond continued: "'aen agent for the government I presume." go t IxPresume.. THE FEDERAL SPY. . 9t "No sir, you've missed it there. I claim no ma- ter, but do a general trading business on my own hook." "You find such business at this particular time' exceedingly profitable, do you not? "Well, stranger, that depends entirely on ircum- stances. Sometimes the wind blows favorable and sometimes it don't. These are mighty ticklish times for trade. But strangers, from what part of the country do you hail, ifI, may be so bold as to ask?" "Well, sir," replied Bond, (becoming chief spokes- man, contrary to appearances, which would indicate a connection with the. army,)-" we are farmers, from. near McMinville, in search of some stray mules which we have tracked in this direction. Can you not gie us some information concerning them?" "Not I! I hav'nt laid eyes on a mule without a harness for many a day. But I'll tell you, I expect you are on the. right trail, for Jack Summons told-me yesterday, that he saw some long-eared strangers over near the Lebanon pike. '.Should'nt wonder if they belong to you. But, here we are at Old Mike's. Come in gents, and take something to tune your nerves; you'll find the pure article here.". So say- ing he dismounted, threw his rein over a horse rack, and followed by Bond and his companion, approached the old tavern. - 'Twas a frame building, beariing heavy lines aid traces of decaying time. On a post near the door, swung an old sign, which at one time bore--the rere. sentation of an eagle, with the proprietor's name-under- page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92 - 'THE FEDERAL SPY. reath it. In a yard near by, a pet cub was rattling his ;chain, as he sat upon -his haunches, while near by, a half dozen gaunt looking hounds were stretched u, pon the ground.- The party entered a large apart- ment, serving for bar and reception room, and seat- ing themselves around a pine table, called to the red-faced landlord, (who was none other than Old Mike,) for some choice brandy He soon complied, with rmany a flourish; all the while peering sharply throught a pair of green spectacles, at his hew cus- tomers. Again,.and again, the bottle passed round, till the party became quite merry; until Bond and Iays refused to drink more. They feared that their generous companion had some evil design in attempt- ing to get them under the effects of liquor. So, when he cried, "drink, friende,-drink!" they thanked him; but refused upon the plea, that they had already 'taken too much. "O0, but my jolly friend, (addressing Bond,) you must drink with me-once more, and 'give .us a toast for the times." So, with a wink at Hays, the Captain , raising the glass on high, cried: "Here's to the, health of Uncle Abe, and, the sue- cess of all his plans." "'Amen '- exclaimed Hays. Their companion swept the faces of both, with one keen, searching glance, and then, as if reassured, he grasped them by the hand, saying in a subdued tone: "I was sure I could not be deceived. I caught in the flash of your eyes, the light of the old spirit. I'll trust you. Your names if -you please." , ,. THE FEDERAL SPY. 9. They gave them, (assuned. ones of course,) where- upon he replied, in the same undertone: "My name is Reid. Meet me here to morrow, at sundown. I have an object in view which I will then explain. 'Tis worth your attention. Will you agree - They assented, and he resumed. . "You may think my request somewhat-strange, as we are strangers to each other, but I trust we will not remain so long. I must now be off. I have much to do before another sunset. Don't fail to meet me. Good evening gentlemen."' With this he passed out, and mounting, rode away. "Well, what do you think of him, Hays?" said his companion. "Well, from what I know of human nature, I should take him to be a grand rascal. Despite his efforts to deceive, the cloven-foot will appear. Treach- ery has placed its in'dellible seal upon his face; but I mean to know more of him." So saying, he called to the landlord. "I say, Mike, tell us what you know of that wild looking individual who has just left here. I don't fancy his looks one bit." " Well, gentlemen, I believe I can trust you, and if you will promise not to give the source of your information, I will gratify your curiosity." They pledged their word that any inf6rmation vhich they derived from him, should never involve i m in difficulty. He thus began: "I have lived in this old house 5 page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " THE FEDERAL SPY. ovir twenty years, and hav*known that fierce look- thg man since he- was a boy. A more mild and peaceful fellow'could not have been found in the State; but I guess the devil-was asleep in his heart, or only waiting for his prey. In youth he promised well; but his parents were too careless for his good. He was soon enticed from home to where he mingled withwild reckless characters, in the hunt, the dance, and the gambling room, until now you may see a demon looking from his eyes, and well tremble for your safety, "His name will bar the doors far and near, and frighten the children all but of their senses. A modern Murrell, gentlemen! a modern MurrellI in the truest sense of the word." "His name?' exclaimed both listeners at once. "He is called Cook Wfight." ' "What Wright the traitor and spy?" cried Bond,.. "The same." "Hays, 'twill never do to let such game escape: Let's follow'him and givO his body to the wolves. He shall never live to boast'of another game of treachery. Come, no time is to be lost." Both started from their seats and strode towards the door, but the old landlord shuffling after them, laid his hand u pqn Bond's shoulder, exclaiming, "Stay, my friend You must not act rashy in this matter. Listen to me for a moment, for I understand the difficulties which will beset you in this undertak- ing. Were you to succeed in finding Wright's trail, (which I think very doubtful, as it is growing dark), TrII FRDERAL :SPY.. .9t you would still have innumerable odds against you3 for with hi perfect knowledge of the country, and his suspicions fully aroused by being so hastily tracked, he would either evade or ambush you. If my, hearing did not deceive me, Wright made an bring him to justice. He is a dark, dangerou an, plied with your request, and shall depend upon your promise of secrecy. The' head ofOld Mike would not long rest upon his shoulders, should this impli- cation of his bec kno wn to that false earted and vindictive desperado." "H Save no fears upon that score, my friend. - This matter is perfectly safe in our keeping. Now lets have wsome supper, and then a place torest, fori we 'haveridden long, and are both hungry and fatigued." Away went the old host to stir up the servants A. smoking repast was soon spread in the long din ing room adjoining the bar. Here, by the light of a flickering tallow dip, the weary scouts were satis- ying their hunger, and. laying schemes for the mor- row, wenheir qi hrin ther quick hearing aught the ring horses feet rapidly approaching. Fully consciousof the danger which might threaten them, they arose insiantly,.seized their arms, and were starting for the door, when Old Mike rushed in, exclaiming: "My God, gentlemen a-bandof Federal guer; doo weeta fote page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] sB THE FEiDERAIL SPY. rillas are at the door. Fly I fly or we will all swing from the nearest limb. Hastel haste! they are call- ing for me. Yet, stay a moment. If you attempt to leave the place you nay stumble upon a straggler and be discovered.- At' the left of that back 'door, you will find an old furnace and oven; crawl into either,.agnd conceal yourselves until you hear from me. Now be off, or you will-be trapped." Back to the bar room, where the new comers were shouting and calling upon him, returned Old Mike, -rubbing his eyes and yawning extravagantly, as though he'had just been roused:from a nap. "Come, hurry up your stumps old man," cried -the leader of the band. "One would. suppose you were dead, or in Greenland, from the trouble we have had to xouse you. Give us some of yourbest liquor. Come up boys, and drink to the health of the girls you've left behind you. See here, Old Mike, how -many rebs have you got aboard to night? ' "Colonel Walker, you are unjust. ' Have you ever had reason to lose faith in my fidelity to the Federal ca se?" -' "come, come, don't take offence; I meant no -harm. I was only a little curious to know what horses made the tracks we have been tracing along 'the road? 'Have you seen no, horsemen this eve ning?"' "Let me see.. Yes, about two hours since some 'three or four neighboring farmers passed along*this way." IE PFEDEERAL . SPY. , 97 "You 'are sure -that they were only farmers are you, . ' Most positive, sirI I could not be mistaken." ' Very well I have the best of reasons for being thus inquisitive." Thespeaker was a tall, well pro- portioned, fair complected man, some'thirty years of age; with a pair of dancing dark eyes, a black beard -and moustache, and a tongue -as glib as that of a mocking bird. ' ' When all had finishedI their toasts and emptied their glasses, Walker gave them permission' to rest awhile; but with the precaution to keep possession of their arms, so that, in case of an attacks they might be ready for immediate action, o'Sme threw them- -selves Ulpon their blankets, and were soon u-ncon- scious; while others drew forth packs of dingycards -and commenced gaming. Thus grouped about the -br room, by the fitful blaze of' a half-dozen pine torches, the privates were passing' the time ia thoughtless gaiety. . But, apart from these:-scenes o&fhilarity, in the very room,. where, but a few moments before the rebel scouts had been sitting, were two officers, seated beside a table, engaged in "low conversation. There was -a slight rustling without, at which the parties starte, . ' Did you not hear something like a footfall?" inquired "one of them,- ; ,- . "I felt sure I :heard a manrs step just beside the house, but all is silent again. I doubt if'it was:any- thing more than the dogs at play, or may b, a -loose I . . page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] O98 THE FEDERAL SPY. horse wandering about the yard. What were you stating concerning your plans for the morrow?" "I had just come to the conclusion," .replied Walker, (for it was he, in company with a Lieuten. ant,) t" to abandon the scheme on which we embarked, and turn our efforts in a new direction. I have heard that, but a few miles from here there is encamped a company of rebel guerrillas, who are a perfect scourge to this 'section of the country, and whol have givenk our cause many a severe wound. This" band is under the command of a fiery little Captain-- named Bond. 'Tis my determination to strike a blow in the right place this time, to redeem the 'countryTfrom further molestation from this source. "We'll see how these freebooters will enjoy a short stayat Johnson's Island. But before we enter upon the execution of this plan, it will be necessary to rest iome, as the meti and horses are both weary. I shall dielay for a day or two in the adjoining county, to set all in order. Now, Williams, you know -my plan. What kink you of it?" "' It certainly promises well, and I believe in your hainds, can be rendered safe and fruitful. These 'bands of independent- marauders, are a disgrace to -'this enlightened age, and should be wiped out of existence. We leave here at an early hour, do we not?" - - "Yes! I have given orders to have all in readi- finess at daybreak. In the meaixtimej wre must take "s:me-Trest.' ; . -- hey- went to their respective, couches, where ?. , THE FEDERAL SPY. 99 schemes and plans were soon forgotten. Their repose would have been less profound could they have seen that dark figure stealing from a crevice in the side of the house, just back of the chairs where they sat conversing, and concocting their' treacherous plots. . Bond, as ever on the-alert, had slipped from his oven retreat,s and after ascertaining through the windows of the .bar room, about the number of its occupants, was returning to his novel quarters, when he observed' a ray of light streaming from a rent in the side of the dining room By applying his ear to. this open- ing, he had been enabled to discover the plot laid' for his destruction. He did not-consume much time in maturing his plans of operation. Hays would remain to meet and dispatch Wright, while he himself has- tened back to his command, to make all necessary preparations for a warm reception of the enemy. Sunrise found Bond far on the :way, by a circuitous' route, to his command. The-ring of spurs and clang of sabres had died away, and the inn was once more quiet. To ETys the day seemed to stand' still. He was eager to return and be with his men ip the coming attack;' but the game in. hand was a weighty one, and demanded attention. Wright was a dangerous foe, and his removal was of the utmost importance. How to accomplish this had been occupying the. mind of Hays throughout the day; but after all he left. the plan to be shaped by circumstances. Evening came and with it the scheming traitor. ilays accounted for the absence of his companion, page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] Do THE FEDERAt PY P . a y stating that hehad gone to act as guide for a t uerrilla party who padsed at 'aybreak. t "O, yes ' I heard that they were to pass this way t L search of that will-o-the-wisp, Bocnd, and his "'but- drnut cavalry" .W'ell, they have the best wishes of " s ne for their complete succes.; That rebel cavalry c a treacherous crew. But now to business without elay. I judge that you are a business man, and ril not refuse to engage in a paying transaction." t "You are right there.- I am ever ready to ope-" ate, in storm or calm, when there isa clear prospect f; fair remuneration." S That's the ring of the true metal. A man with hat spirit will always be independent. But now for ny proposition. Here Mike, give us some of your s :hoice extract of rye to oil up the vocal machinery. a 1ighty dusty out to-day, dowering his voicd). Now, ny friend, this is my plan. 0ld' farmer Stewart; a r niserly traitor, living about' three miles 'from here, aas been for several weeks engaged in collecting mules and horses, which he intends to run through the lines for the use of the rebs. A fine lotof stock it is. Too good for the accursed rebellion to appro priate, and if you will stick by me, not a beast of the i drove shall cross the line." . "But can this be done without great risk of dete c- Lion and punishment?" ' E '"Just as easy as to say, Jack Robinson, (take ] another drink). You see I have the plan all laid, and I don't work with'out tools. It will be an easy c matter to get the stock beyonda the reach of pursuit, , . .^ and dispose of it before old Stewart returns from up the country. I want to divide the drove, and push them in different directions; nake quick sales, and then lie low till the, storm passes by." "Well, Rpid, I must confess that your schemes are shrewdly concocted, and seem to promise well. My confidence in them is so firm, that I herewith give you my hand as a pledge of hearty co-operation. i Well said, well said, and you shall have no cause to regret this ready compliance with my request." As soon. as all preliminary. arrangements were ompleted, and an extra drink had been taken to the uccess of their undertaking, Wright took his leave, hinking it not prudent for both to start together. The point proposed for neeting'lay upon the road ome two miles from the inn, and was designated by giant gnarled poplar, which threw its ragged old branches over the road, and far above its forest neighbors. , Just before dark Hays reloaded iis repeaters,. and saw them well primed; then swallowing a glass of brandy to steady his nerves, (as he remarked to Old Hfike,) he mounted and started for the forest rendez vous. He reached it before Wright, as he had intended to do. [Having hitched his horse some fifty yards from the road, he took from his Saddlea a long grape vine, with which he had supplied himself and going back some six hundred yards on the road, he ran the vine from one side to the other, making it fast to a couple of small trees, so that in the center of the road it hung about two feet from' the ground. page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 THE FEDERAL SP'Y. This done, he took his stand in the shade of a shrub near by one terminus of the line. That was a fearful watch in-the depths of that shadowy wood, waiting for a human victimr with whose blood a brother's hand would soon be crim- soned; but the conscience of Hays was calmed by the assurance, that it was a duty. to act under exist- ing circumstances; to be diligent in the removal of even a pebble which might impede the progress of his nation's interests. Yet, with all this there came, (as it always will come,) a shudder of awe, at the determination of a mortal to push a fellow being from thi stage of existence ; to plunge' him into the waves of oblivion. To add to the gloom of suclh reflections, came-the shrill toohoo t toohoo I of an owl perched on the limb of the old poplar. But Hays was not left long to brood over gloomy forebodings, for that -ominous night voice had searcely died away, ere the clatter of horse's feet smote the air. Hays drew back into; the shade,} and with repeater in hand awaited events. At first he was fearful that the approaching - horseman might accidentally be a traveler passing that way; but he was soon satisfied to the contrary. as Wright's familiar gray came dashing round a turn in the road, but a few yards awaiy. On he came, with unabated speed-nearer and nearer. One more bound, and horse and rider were thrown with a fear- ful shock to the} earths. Hays Sprang forward like a tiger towards his prey; but in his hastehe tripped and fel. ' When he had regained his feet, his anta- gonist had also recovered from the fall and stood . ' confronting him. He instantly recognized Hayss, and with a curse and die! you black hearted traitorl he fired full at his breast. The report of Hays' pistol rang out almost simultaneoisly. 5W right giving a fearful shriek, reeled and dropped his pistol. Hays darted forward and emptied his weapon; every shot taking effect in the bead of his foe, who struggled a moment, then uttering a fiendish yell, lay a rigid, motionless corpse upon the highway. Hays glanced at the blood-stained features, upturned -in hideous distortion, then turning away with a shudder, secured hs horse and returned to the inn. After eating a lunch in silence and filling his can. teen; he was about starting- away, when 'he felt a sharp pain darting through his left shoulder. On going to the light he was startled to find his coat sleeve saturated with blood, which had been flowing. from a severe flesh wound when he had felt the pain.. It was soon well dressed and :bandaged, when, turn- ing to the landlord, he exclaimed: "Well, Mike, there is one the less traitor taxing his villainous brain with schemes of treachery. He came near ending my career; but a miss is as gaod as a mile. Just notify any who mav enquire for Mr. Reid aliaes Coob Wright, that his remains may be found on the road, near the old poplar. Goodbye, Old Mike! Keep up your courage; we'll be victo- riousy et." "I am sure of that, and shall look for our dear old flag anxiously. Goodbye, Hays! May Providence watch over and protect you." ' ". . , page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] VY kJLlj *fl J1L1J JLJL . Hays-with a wave of the hand, mounted and rode rapidly away. On through the gathering gloom went the reckless horseman, at a fierce gallop, when the ground would admit of it; but there were wild, dark streams to cross, and occasional rough declivi. ties, over which he was necessitated to cautiously pick his way. His progress had not been such as he had ,hoped for, but it had been sufficient to bring him within a short distance of his destination, ere the midnight hours went by. The close of the day had been cloudy and boister- ous; but about ten o'clock, the low dripping canopy was rolled back, revealing. to the eye the clear blue vault, with its tens of .millions of blazing lights, throwing their mellow radiance over the universe. Hays supposing that he had left the Federal band far :in the rear, and that he was nearing his own men, was riding on more leisurely, when, on turning an angle of the road, he came suddenly upon a picket standing by the roadside. Believing that he had miscalculated thedistance, and that the soldier-before him was one of his own men, he rode forward with- out mistrust, till he came within thirty yards of him, When he. was challenged in gruff- and unfamiliar accents. To his consternation, a close look discov ered the'sentinel to be none other than a stalwart blue coat, with muske' drawn. What was to be done? To retreat would be running a fearful risk, w :hile to advaneo,-was equally hazardous; but the dictates of hisactive mind instantly pointed the alter- native, and to the challenge he replied, "a friend, j . . . ' THE. FEDERAL SPY. - I05 with the countersign." Then walking his horse up within five paces of his enemy, he sank-the spurs into his horses flanks, and dashed with the shock-of a thunderbolt upon' the awe struck soldier, tramp- ling lim into the earth. So sudden and impetuous had been tie assault, that the picket had not time to .at, ere he was struck by the horse's feet. Inthe fall his musket was thrown with such force to the earth, that it waf discharged. The clear report rang sharply on the midnight air, quickening the pace of the relief, who was near at hand, but they only arrived in time to catch the glimpse of a retreating horseman. Three muskets fiercely befloweddf three minie balls whistled after.. the flying fugitive, but struck wide of their mark. Hays rode rapidly round the encampment, and soon had the satisfaction of being welcomed. by hiss brothers in arms. He immediately sought the quar- ters of his leader, whom he found sitting thoughtful and alone, inspecting a rude penciling of roads. and streams, in 'the vicinity of the present encampment. At his approach the Captain turned and starting up, exclaiming, why, how are you, my dear old fellow? I began to fear you would not get back in time for the ball.. 'Come, tell us how you succeeded' in the work assigned you." . After relating all that had occurred, with the exception of his last adventure, he enquired into the nature of Bond's plans.. "Well, I will briefly-explain. I have only remained here for the enemy to mark well our locality, and o o page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] O6 ' THE FEDERAL SPY., thatI feel confident they rhave now done. In an half- hour I shall leave here-and move up the road, which they must follow, some three miles, where we may ambush themin the rocky defile, you remember, near the old river ferry. Believing me to be uncon- scious of their approach, tley will naturally be off th;eir.guard, and I am very sanguine in the hope of a complete victory.' - -' I can. mcost certainly discover no defect in this little piece of strategy; but Captain, as the last hour has put: me in possession of some important facts, of which you are ignorant, I would like to suggest a plan which I 'believe will promise more certain suc- cess. Walker with his hireling crew, is encamped in a little secluded valley; only five miles from here. This I know, for I accidentally ran into the blue varmints.; but as luck would have it' came off with out loss. I have no doubt they intend to .attack us to-morrow, and I would propose that we move upon them !immediately, and by daylight I feel confident we will reap the fruits of a complete surprise." " Well, Lieutenant, I am favorably impressed with your well devised scheme, and shall most gladly adopt it. Out time is short-we mustbe off at once." But little delay occurred in assembling and mount ing the men; so that scarcely an hour elapsed after t:the aryival of Hays, ere. a :ing train of horsemen might haove ben seen winding quietly along through the shady depths of the forest. Oni they rode, with not a sound save, the: occasional rattle of a spurn or horse's shoe, fas it struck the flinty path, for nearly 'tPiE PaferAL BPT. 107 an hour, when they were halted and orered to pre- pare for immediate action. - Lieutenant Hays was to take command of a por- tion of the troops, and by a 'detour'gain the rear-bf -the foe, where hewas to make an attack simultaneous with that upon the front. At the same time, the horses which. Hays in his night adventure hid dis. covered near by, were to be stampeded, to prevent the flight of the enemy. All took'their positions, and at a given signal the horsemen dashed forward like an ocean wave. The pickets. with one exception, were cut down before they could give the alarm. Thelgray dawn was just creeping over the horizon, as the attackinrg party reached the borders of the little valley in which the Yankee cavalry had bivouacked. Theshrill notes of the bugle burst upon the morning air. Onward dashed the rebel horsemen. Bright gleamed an hun- dred sabres, as the cavalcade went thundering on-t the crimson harvest. Shrill rang the cry of Walker, "Steady,, men! To horse" ' Judge of their consternation, whhen ey :discovered their steeds. in full flight away through the forest. In vain' did the Yankee lteader-attempt to rally:ad ' form his force. So complete had been the surpfise, and impetuous the charge, that his men heeded not the command, 'but broke aay ndfled' iScarcely had they taken twenty steps to: the rear, before they were confronted by the dashing :. ays S i still strove hard to escape, but in vain. They were Sh'ot page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 THE SIEDERiA SPY. down to a man,while the majority threw down their arms and plead for mercy. Bond! iode forward to the silent and downcast 'Walker, and stalting him, enquired if he was in command of those men. He replied "I hive. that honor,sir2" Whereupon an unconditional surrender was de- 2manded, granting five minutes time for consideration, The demand was at once complied with. As Walker delivered up his splendidsword, he remarked, '"Captain Bond, we are political enemies, and I had anticipated a victory over you, but the fates of war have been unpropitious. Take this sword-it was a present from my father, who fought with it in 1776. In becoming a prisoner Ifeel humbled; but much less than might have been, from the fact, that I have been conquered by a brave and skillful .soldier." So saying he relinquished his weapon, which was returned with the reply- "Colonel. Walker, fortune has indeed made you mya prisoner. Believing you to. be a misguided gen- tleman, I return your sword, with the hope that it may not again be raised in the cause of oppression- -I feel confident that ere you are released, observation will teach you more fully to appreciate the motives which prompt the sons 'of the South in this sat- guinary contest." - The 'prisofers were disarmed, and after being per- mitted to decently bury their' dead, were ;conducted to McMimville and. delivered to the proper autho- rities. L# . , SADNESS, 1009 That day was one long to be remembered by Bond and his brave Tennesseeans. They have gained matv a victory since; but the one here Recorded, for completeness and brilliancy, remains unsurpassed. By the group about the camp fire, Hays has often been called upon to relate his adventure with Wright, tie Yankee Spy. S A'DNES:S. * , * .. TFE human heart like a. sweet toned lyre, is full of slumbering music.. Its emotions, like the magicai strings, are tuted and waiting for a player; and as the gifted musician with a gentle touch wins sweet melodies'from the one, so may the skillful hand: awake mellow symphonies from the other; but man is not the only pleyor. The sights and sounds that' throng our senses with unseen fingers sweep the mystic cords, Nature in her shifting shades of exis- tence, plays with marvelous power this human instru-- ment; she breathes upon its silver strings and their vibrations precisely accord with her mood; her sea- sons each call forth a new responsive strain. Spring* is joyous and happy, the very air she breathe seems " trembling with the sounds of a new emotion; Sum, mer in her .modest beauty moves along with quiet grace, bedecked 'ith flowery garlands, all. shining j. o page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] 1Qo SADNESS. with the. crystal. tears of night, but Autumn, robed and crowned with the dying blushes of the year, and enthroned upon the wreck of its beauties, always appeared to me like a queen of sadness; passing away is stamped upon her every feature; her breath is like a pestilential vapor to the vegetable kingdom, drying up its very life blood. O, to trace her frosty foot- step among the flowers of the garden andthe meadow, fills the breast with sad emotions. The murmuring breeze as it hurries by whispers sadness to the soul, and where'ef we turn we are hauntedhy the echoes of this mournful strain. '0, who has not felt like weeping over the death bed of the flowers, those little children of summer, whom we inet at each early morn with dewy faces upturned .to catch the earliest unnbeam's kiss? Their smiles made our lowly homes resemble Eden, and whert I see them lying dead and seentless at my feet; when the lonely eye wanders away over the barren fields in a vain search for one bright flower; w hen the red oak and the yellow maple leaves circle down upon their graves, and the rude gales amid the naked branches chaunt their mournful requiem, I cannot repress tears of sorrow. Autumn I that season when the land seems lost in a dream; when a shadowy twilight steals across the heavens, and the air like a gossamer veil hanging above eand about us, admits the struggling sunbeams Fith a subdued and softened lustrej when the. voice of tke merry brook becomes strange and saddened; when we hear the farewell lay of the birds as they a .ar..e SADNESS. il fly away tothe sunny South. All these things tend to keep alive that sad melody of the soul. This work of desolation mefts the eye on every hand, 'Tis wide spread. as Timle's decaying foot, steps on the gloomy plains of Egypt. One could not feel mnor elonely and deserted when surrounded byher crumbling, moss grown ruins of centuries, than among the wrecks of this autumnal blight. At this season of the year: we always long for soli- tude. How often have I buried myself in the quiet depths of the forest, where the sunbeams stealing. through the variegated faiage, fell upon the ground like the mellow colored i4ht from the stained win. "dows of some grand old cathedral, there to sit and muse, and dream for hours, not only of the present, but of the past. The mind wanders away over buried years, uncovering scenes to which memory clings with sacred fondness. On it speeds till checked by some touching scene--it may be that of a death bed, perhaps of a fond parent, by whose coffin side we stood unconscious of our loss, since then often fully realized; and though many years have passed, yet the eye grows dim with tears now at the thought of that shrouded form, and the-aching void left in our sorrowing hearts; but these events are too painful to long dwell upon. Let us draw about them their sable. curtains, and say farewell to the year now trembling on the verge of that yawning grave, the Eafti -It will soon be gone with it- joys and sorrows; gone with its good and ill, never to return; .gone like -the lone snowy cloud that sasai away, and is lost beyond the ,'* page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 . SADNESS M horizon; gone like the feathery snow flake that sinks into the bosom of the ocean, and still the winged moments fly stealthily by, Widening the waters that roll in our rear, And shortening our sail to the grave. Can man look upon the death of the year, and the wasting away-of its beauties, and not feel that it is typical of his own decay; - not see in it the foresha- dowing of his own sure dissolution? Ah i how can we forget that life also has an Autumn; a time when all our earthly hopes and joys will be swallowed up in decay; when man in his boasted majesty must ]ownto that conqueror, Death, like the proud oak that is riven by the blast. But look our, bark 'is tow approaching the wave beaten beach of the old year; behind us rolls the flood of the past, while * before us, half wrapped in a vail of obscurity, dance 'the bright waves where fancy has painted the future. We turn and take one more view of the waters we are leaving. As we glide in upon the- unknown sea we are to explore; our hearts beat high with bright anticipations. Hope flashes in letters of, light from the sky in our front, while with banner and sail all set, and a song on our lips, cheerfully speed we away on our annual -voyage: . -* But let the heart beat as light as it willt These solemn questions will visit us still: Shall I safely pass the rock and the shoal, Where threatening waves in majesty roll? - -Through the blinding mist can I safely steer, To the bright shining port of another new year t is - .t "AST WORDS OF -THE GREAT. " If so, then when, and where will I rea6h Eternities broad and unlimited' beach? - Little it matters to the christian son, When his dark and troublesome voyage ismdone. His spirit unlike the perishing flower,. Leaves earth but to bloom in a heavenly bower. His way worn bark o'er the ocean of Tinge, Will anchor in a better and fairer clime; , Among the green isles. in Heaven's bright sea; There to remain through all Eternity. "AST WORDS, OF THE GREAT.:' Tete de parmec. The head of the army I Napoleon.' I have. loved God, my father, liberty I D De Stel. Let me die to the sound of del' io us music L-. Mizrabeau. Is this your fidelity?' ; Nero. A king should die standingr Augusts. I must sleep nowl yron. Kiss me, Hardy 1 Nelson. Don't give up the ship I Larence. I'm shot, if I don't believe I'm tdying ^ a Clasp my hands, my-dear friend,: Idie I :e- A$iock44 ^-JJk page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 ABRE THERE NO WREATHS? , God preserve the Emperor I Hayder The artery ceases to beat Haller . Let the light enter I - Goethe. All my possessions for a moment of time- - 'I A -Elizabeth. What I is there no bribing of death? Beaufort. Monks f Monks I Monks I Henry IlL Be serious I . Grotzu. Into thy hands, O, Lord I I have had a good time, let me sleep I Dante.. [Selected: ARE THERE NO WREATHS? Are there no wreaths except the wreaths that deek The brows of men who gain .renown by strife- No fame but that which rises from the wreck Of happiness, and aste of human life 9 Is there no wreath for Humble Goodness? None bFr those who, meek and unambitious, glide , In quiet to the grave; their duties doie To God and man, without one pang of pride. Ask not in earth.; unblemished virtue stands - Unnoticed, unadorned, amidst mankind; It seeks- no praise, no wreaths from human hands, Heaven warrants, and there its wreaths are twin. -[Scelected -.. RBNOWN-TRUE 'GREATNESS. 15 The battle come on, and many a crest Was cleft to the brow by the sword; And many a heart, thro' corslet and breast, Was pierc'd at the shrine it adored. There rode like a tempest of fury rnd speed. A knight in the midst of the foes; He stood in his stirrups, he bent o'er his steqde - And victory follow'd his blows. Like Achillis he tore the proud laurels of fame From the brows of the valient in strife,. And he won never dying renown for his name, But the price of renown was-his life. ' Select&d TRUE GREATNESS.-When Dr. Franklin waa, re- ceived at the French Court, as American Minister, he felt some scruples of conscience about complying with their fashion of dress. "He hoped," hessaid to the Minister, 4' that as he was a very plain man, and irepresented a plainrrepub- lican people, the king would indulge his desire to, appear in court in his usual dress. Independent of this, the season of the year,' said he, '" lenders the change from yarn stockings to fine silk ones some- what dangerous." ' The French Minister made him a bow' but said that-fashion was too sacred a thing for him to meddle with, but he would do him the honor to mention it. : . page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 F eOETIC. to his Majesty. The king smiled and returned word, that ]r Franklin was at liberty to appear at court in any dress that he pleased, In spite of that delicate respect for foreigners, for which the French are so remarkable, the courtiers could not help:.staring at first, at Dr. Franklin's 'Quaker dress. But it soon appeared :as though he had been introduced upon this splendid theatre, only to demonstrate that great:genius, like beauty, "needs not the aid of ornament." [ - Seected. POETIC.-The poetic powers of Milton's mind attracted tthe- attention of his instructors when he was bt eleven years'old. -An instance is recorded while attending St. Paul's school, in London, that which illustrate this': At ai;public examination the scholars were each appointed to read a poetic composition. The theme chosen was the first miracle of our Savior-the turn- ing-of water into wine. Each one exerted himself to the iitmost, to gain the prize. sLong poems were written'and handed in' on that suject. - -But young Mt0on:gra sped the sublinme idea, and expressed it in a; isle that: would have done honor fto the greatest bard. - -ie only wrote on is slate one line: ' The conscious water saw its God, and blushed." :.It. is said- hat. the , ju4ges. looked -:upon: each other amazed-, :tnd without; -hesitation; -awarded him *the prize.- [Selected. I AN ENCOUNTER WH A BOA. 117 AN. ENCOUNTER WITH A BOA.-Mr. MMason in his work entitled, ' Pictures in Mexico," relates the following circumstances which pccurred to him while loitering along a shady path in the forest: "I stepped aside for a moment to admire a rich tuft pf purple flowers, my mule- having plodded on about eight or ten yards ahead, when, as I turned from the flowers towards the path, a sensation as of a flash of lightning stiuck my sight, and I saiw a brilliant and powerful snake, winding its coils around the head and body of the poor mule. It was a large and magnificent boa, of a black and yellow cilor; and sit had entwined the poor beast so firmly in its folds, that ere it had time to utter more than one feeble cry, it was crushed to detth. The perspiraw tion broke out on my forehead, as I thought of my narrow escape; and only remaining a moment to" view the movements of the monster as he began to uncoil himself I rushed through the brushwood, and did not consider myself safe until . was entirely. free from the forest.. - Seeced. ' PRUSSIA AND AUERICA.--It is said that a subject of the King of Prussia, a talented mechanic, being about to emigrate, was arrested and brought before - his Majesty. - "Well, my good friend,?' said the king, how can we persuade you to remiain in Prussia " ., ; Most gracious sir, only by making Prussia what America is." - He was allowed to endirate. [&lected.. page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "8 A AHRILLING- WOLF STORY. A' THRIL LNG WOLF STORY: THEI first settlers in Maine found, beside its red faced owners other and abundant sources of annoy- ance and danger. The majestic forests which then waved, where now is heard the hum of business, and -where a thousand villages stand, were the homes of innumerable wild and savage animals. Often at Ylight were the farmer's family aroused from sleep by the noise without, which told that bruin was- stormi ig :the sheep-pen, or pig-sty'; or was laying violent paws uponrsome unlucky calf, and often on a cold win- ter evening, did they roll a large log against the door, and with beating hearts draw close around the fire, as the dismal howl of the Wolves echoed through the woods. The wolf was the most ferocious, blood thirsty, but cowardly of all; rarely attacking man, unless driven by severe hunger, and seeking his vic- tim with: the utmost pertinacity. The incident here related, occurred in the early history of Biddeford. a A resident of that place, a Mr. H----,.was one autumn, engaged in felling trees some distance from his house.. His little son, eight years old, was in the habit while his mother was bujisywith the household caresof running out into the field and wo6ds around' the house, and 6ften going. whereotheifather was at work. r One day, aftpethe frost had robbed the trees of' their foliage, the father lst his work sooner than * v A THRILLING WOLF STORY. 119 usual and started for home., Just on the edge of'the forest he saw a curious pile of leaves; without stop- ping to think what had made it, he cautiously removed the leaves, when, what was his astonish. ment to find his own darling-boy laying there sound asleep 'Twas but the work of a mqmnent to take up the little sleeper, put in' his place:l:asmall log, care- fully replace the leaves, and conceal himself among the'nearest bushes, there to watch the result. After. waiting there a short time, he heard a wolf's distant howl, quickly followed by another:and another, till, the woods seemed alive with the' fearful sounds.- The sounds same, nearer, and in, a few minutes a huge, gaunt, savage looking wolf, leaped into the opening, closely, followed by the whole pack.. The leader, sprang directly upon .the pile of leaves, and in 'an instant scattered them in every direction. 'As soon as he saw the deception, his look .of fierceness and confidence: changed -to that of the most. abject fear. He shrank back, cowered to the ground, and passively waited his fate; for'the rest, enraged by the- supposed cheat; fell upon him, tore him in pieces, and devoured him- on the spot.- When they had finished their comrade,. they wheeled round, plunged int6 -the for' est and :disappeared; -within five minutes from their first appearance not a wolf wasin sight. - : : The excited father: pressed" his child-to his bbosom, and thanked :the) kind PBividence .which led : hin there to save. his dear Eboy. . ; .; . . The boy after. playing: till he was weary, -had 'laid down and fallen asleep, and -in that ituation hbd;lie'. page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] -1SO2 ONLt. A ME0CANI1C. wolf found him and covered him with leaves, until he could bring:his comrades to the feast; but himself furnished the repast. Helected ,ONLY A MEOHANIC! 'SP-SHAW I He's only a mechanic!"How often do we hear this and similar expressions, falling from the lips of those who are called intelligent and charif table. Ask that rich man about the occupant of that plain, but neat little cottage beside him, and be will tell you. "O, I guess he's a very good sort of a man; clever, honest, and intelligent; ;but he's only a mechanic." Day after day he will pass this poor but upright man, without bestowing upon him so much as a kind word ,or look. These gifts would cost him nothing, and would so brighten the shadowed pathway of the weary son of toil.- In fact the man of wealth 'often looks upon the mechanic, in a light not far removed from that of his horse or ox, knowing. that his services are essential to his own happiness and prosperity, but deeming him unworthy of more attention or respect The aristocratic female looks upon the woman, her equal, if not her superior in good sense, virtue and piety, with a sneering lip and frowning brow. And for what?l. Why, forsooth, she's a mechanics wife, And shall this longer be held a disgraee? As well :t* ONLY A MECHANIC. 121 might Eve have been condemned for being the help- mate of Adam, whom God sent forth to become, not 'a merchant, a lawyer, or banker, but a laborer, whose hands should grow hard With toil:; who should live by the sweat of his brow. 'Twas God who instituted manual labor. Who then 'shall Msorn it? Listen, my haughty friend'; yonuknow that %tis impossible for all to be rich. - Then if your neigh- . bor is of necessity poor, is he to blame? Are you not provoking. God's displeasure by despising :His work? To all men is not given power of intellect befitting them fbr high positions, but wie each have a mission to fulfill, and in the sight of the Great Me- chanic of the universe all honest callings are equally honorable. We bare dependent one upon another; and he who strives to advance the interests -of man- kind, who labors for the common weal, is a nobleman. ("What is noble? Is the sabre Nobler thanf the spade?" - There is dignity in labor Truer than eer Pomp arrayed." We behold among the brightest names that flash from the Temple of Fame, those of Watt, Franklin, Whitney, Fulton, and Moor$ These names will live in the grateful recollection of posterity, when the titled and laurelled destroyeds of mankind shall be remembered' only wifth detestation, - "' There is no- ministry more jonorable than that; of-the intelligent mechanic" ' 1e eis indispensaiBle- the advincement of your interests, and you a're as :muoh indebted to him for geniaus anskill as 'le is t ' you for support" K * , . page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 ONLY A ME- ANIC. 1 Who reared the mansion and adorned the grounds you-soimuch admire? Who spread the sails of corn merce and surrounded you with luxuries? The poo. Who make the laws of the country and sustain them, -even at the point of the bayonet? -The poor. From 'whence have sprung many of the greatest men the world ever-saw but from the ranks of the poor. ' After wealth and position had crowned (in many an instance) their own unaided efforts, "low birth and iron fortune " was forgotten by the fickle, flattering tide that rolled along in homage at their feet. Tell me, who can, what change had been wrought in them? Had not the man the same God-given talent, the same warm heart anrd persevering :industry, when he was perhaps . only a meehanic?"JNone can deny it; and yet you will sanction this inconsistent dis- tinction. Why will you become slaves to the per- verted tastes of fashion? Rich man, how came you by wealth? -If you have come' in possession of it without an effort on your part, then why should you boast? If by your own exertions you have acquired it, you are still indebted to Providence for what luck and fortune receive the credit. Wealth is only loaned to you to test your heart; to see if in the midst of prosperity you will forget whose debtor you are. Then why will you boast of what-may be' taken from y:you in an hour? Y you coldness and pride kindle t;he: fire of'enwy andlhatred in the breasts of the poor. T bhey canDot; -love you,. neither will' they be earnest in-the promotion of your welfare, - WhenU we prsy, '--"Thy kingdom come, Thy will . Will ONLY, MEOCHAIC. 123 be done on earth as It is in heaven," how can you hope that your petition will be answeredd so long as you continue to battle against that love and chris- tian unity which must characterize the- kingdom of heaven? How can you look for God's'kingdom on earth until you banish all false, hollow pride and learn to love and encourage the' honest poor. If you despise them here, provoking retaliation and stirring up the bitter waters of the heart, how: can we meet as one blissful family: in heaven? Here must be sown the seeds which are-to spring up and- bloom in perfection beyond the grave. How often it happens that the young maan- possessing 'that priceless jewel, a bright moral character-amiable and intelligent-- whose every action bespeaks a generous soul, is -re pulsed, with every feeling wounded and grieved, by the woman who will- welcome with smiles and flattery the idle, the profane, and senseless profligate, and why? Ah, because one has gold, though often des- titute of principle, while the- other has naught but his talents and a guileless heart to recommend him. If the wealthy have no excuse for pompons'feelings, how much less have they who, by a reverse of For- tune's wheel, have been compelled. to descend to an humble sphere. Yet in 'thb walks of life we meet hundreds of this class who though reduced topoverty, will not be humbled--they still carry ahigh headi endeavoring to blaze by reflected light, boasting of rich ancestral blood,: and the pomp'of depatedglory. To what are we tending when-. woman ,desertu the post to her assigned by her Maker?,- Wben she page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 ONLY A .MECHANIC. ceases to exert that- nfuence which is to soften and refine the harsh features of man's character,. leading him into a field of aetive usefulness? For what may we look but discord and vice within the pale of so- ciety, when she becomes so'far blinded by the mists. of prejudice and' evil fashion as to weigh the human character by a standard of gold and hollow sounding titles? I have seen the poor man weaving about the hearts; of his little flock the silver shield of fireside influences and kneeling with them- around the home altar, while: the wealthy were courting temptation at the theatre,. the opera, or gaming house. I have heard the child in fine linen, on his death bed, heaping curses upon his grey-haired parents. I have seen the sons of the poor man gracing the highest ofilces of their country, while those of his wealthy neighbor were lying in chains or reeling home, inflamed with wine, from the haunts of sinful dissipation. Now answer yolar consciencer honestly, who would be more: likely to possess the true riches, or could with any justice harbor feelings of pride-the man who in the bosom of his family finds pure delight dwelling in sweet communion with his Gods. or he whose mind is racked with anxiety, whose whole soul is enslaved by the twin-jailors of the' world-Pleasure and Gain. O '" rich man, have a care E"You are hot to live for yourselves alone; God has placed you in athe midst-of the poor that you may assist and encourage them. Forget not the unvailed pictuie of Dives and Lazarusspeaking from the eternal realms of truth. 'Remember the time isv s . ., THE WANDERER'S SONG. . not far distant when' all distinctions will be swep away, and all titles will vanish. When after life'i pilgrimage is over, trav el-worn and weary, you pas' through the shining gates of: that other 'country 'twill not be in gilded and. glittering array, nor wil you be classed according to birth; but your poor dis robed spirit will, with that of your humble-neighbor be ushered into the presence Iof a just Judge, ther to render a strict account of earthly, stewardship, ant then, in tones of conviction, will be echoed back th startling question-Hast 'thou loved thy neighbor a thyself?. - ... .- . THE WANDERER'S SONG. "Far away from my home and my kindred rm straying, And thugh- my heart often is glandsome and free, Yet to-night comes a voice like the voice of one praying, Speaking gently and lowly and praying for me; I list, though the ocean is rolling between us, For well I remember the words of that prayer, I watch till I fancy I see the light falling-- Falling softly and bright on my motherss dark hair; Blame me not if rm silent and listless and lonely, To-night of all nights I'm a stranger to joy, , I'm deaf to. all voices save thatfof one oily, And that is one praying for me .er dear boy'; For worlds Id not barter the wealth hof that heart- Every life-throb that beats in it beats iut for me; Now calmly she rises-I shiver and start l Ah I would I were there in that cot by the sea&" 9 . .. page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 - "tNKESSEE? TENNESSEEI [WRITTEN'JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE OF MS9SONARY RIDE, GEORI-aA.4 The wing of war that's hovering O'er this bright and beauteous land, Throws a dark, foreboding shadow Round our faithful, fearless band. Wave on wave rbll o'er the breakers, While dark and daTker grows the lea, One moere weighed in the trembling, balance, Unvails the fate of Tennessee. When the woodbine and the myrtle O'er the silent tombs are creeping; Then, a father and a sister, Side by side are calmly sleeping ' I am left in tears of mourning, It may be ne'er again to see, Beside nmy dear deserted home- Those hallowed mounds in Tennessee'. I had hoped the dread invader Would ne'er pollute that sacredt spott But'leave its fieldfts andcsilver streams Untarnished' &by a crimson Blot. Yet they camee with waving banners, With sword and torch in fiendish glee., Lighting up with burning homes, The quiet vales of Tennessee. But we'll never grow desponding, Tlough the vandals round us crowd, - For our star ienot decliniing, 'Tis only veiled behind a cloud. Faifhfi ad steel will rend its fetters,. -Setting the golden, trembler free, To warm the chilled and weary. heart Of the friendless refugee.. TE GOLD GANO. Iark I the bugle notes are sounding, The fearful crisis comes at last, By Heaven's help we'll scatter them Like autumn leaves before the blast, Then from peaceful dell and mountain, Will ring the anthems of the free; Hand in hand we'll meet rejoicing, Around the flag of Tennessee. THE OLD CANOE; Where the rocks are gray and the shore is steep; And the waters below look dark and deep; Where the rugged pine in its lonely pride Leans gloomily over the murky tie; Where the reeds and rushes are tall and rank, And the weeds grow thick on the winding bank; Where the shadow is heavy the whole day through, Lays at its moorings the old canoe, The useless paddles are idly dropped, Like a sea-bird that the storm hath lopped, And crossed on the railing, one o'er one, Like folded hands when the work is done ; While busily back and forth between, The spider stretches his silvery screen, And the solemn owl with hi&dull "too hoo,? Settles down on the side of the old canoe. The currentless waters are dead and still, But the light winds play with the :oaat wat And lazily in and out again, It floats the length of its rusty chain, Like the weary march of the hand' of time,. That meet and pass at-the noontide chime ; And the shore is kissed at each turn anew - By the. drippinghow of the. old canoie, page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 THERE'S LOVE IN THE COLDEST HEART. O, many a time -ith a careless hand, rve pushed it away from the pebbly strand, And paddled it down where the stream runs quick, Where the whirls are wild and the eddies are thick, And laughed as I leaned o'er the rocking side, And looked below in the broken tide, To see that the faces and boats were two, , That were mirrowed back from the old canoe. The stern, half sunk in the slimy wave, Rots slowly away i its living grave, And the green moss creeps o'er its dull decay, Hiding its mouldering dust away; ( Like the hand that plants o'er the tomb a flower, Or the ivy that mantles the fallen tower; While many as blossom of loveliest hue. Springs over tlh stern of the old canoe. But now as I lean o'er the crumbling side, And look below in the sluggish tide, The face that I see there is graver grown, -And the laugh that I hear his a soberer tone, And the hands that lent to the light skiff wings Have grown familiar with sterner things. But I love to think of the hours that flew, As I rocked when the whirls -their white spray threw, E'er the blossom's waved or the green moss grew O'er the mouldering stern of the old canoe. -THERE'S'LOVE IN THE COLDEST HEART. Say what you will of the coldness of man, Of his soul deSply trammelled in art; Still, let me believe through it all, if I can, That there's love in the coldest heart. Could we read the secrets of every soul, 'Know the motives which prompted the deed, Less oftener oir tongues would herald the scroll, Over which hearts silently bleed. J . . THE LAST SILVER DOLLAR. 129 I cannot think man so utterly lost, But what he has moments of shame; . Though reckless at times, still deep in his soul Is burning a holier flame. Some mem'ry is playing with his heart's silent strings Some blissful emotion is stirred; Some hope of the blessed to which his sour clings. Though his lips may utter no word. Every soul has its griefs, every bosom its cares,- So 'twill be till his life shall depart; Then let me believe, while life's burden it bear&'- , That there's love in the coldest heart. THE LAST"'SILVER DOLLAR. A PARODY. 'Tis the last silver dollar, Left shining alone; All its laughing companions 'Are wasted and gone. Not a coin of its kmndred, -No specie is nigh, ?i To echo back softly Its silvery sigh, You must leave me, bright dollar,. The last of my few; Since thy mates have departed, Skeedaddle thou too. Thus kindly I send thee , To wander afar-- In the night of shinptasters . A glimmering star. ' page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 180 AN ADVENTURE A:OING THE INDIANS. So soon may I follow, When thou art no more; Ahd I wreck of starvation, On currency shore. ' When the purse never jingles,/ And shiners have flown, O who could feel wealthy, Qn pictures alone. AN ADVENTURE AMONG THE INDIANS. BY DR. I. E. NAGLE, SIRGEON C. S. A. In 181 we were in the United States exploring service. Our fondness for adventure carried us to the far West, where the buffalo and antelope and Indian warriors roam- over the pathless and bound- less plains. With a choice and select party of friends and acquaintances to make the company cheerful and spirited, we necessarily sought many adventures which did not legitimately belong to our branch; our unbridled spirits often led us into dangerous places and to do rash deeds. On several occasions, small parties of us had become separated, intention- ally, from the main body. of the command, and fall- ing in with bands of hostile Indians, fought them at great odds, usually being forced to make a' rapid retreat on our reserves. , One evening in the latter part of summer, five of us were intently engaged in hunting antelopes, and AN ADVENTURE AMONG( THE INDIANS. 1! in the excitement of running and trying to circur vent the agile and wary animals, we wandered i from our force. The gleaming of the twilight w setting on the boundless prairies. A great sea grass was about us. The sun had gone down aw. off on, its western border, as it goes down on the so its great red eye drawing'a pyramid of light from t surface to its body and dropping suddenly, shooti its rays like the beams of an immense diadem up t horizon. We sat on our horses carelessly consulti concerning our course, siddenly we were startled 1 an advancing cloud of horsemen. With a who and yell the red furies came sweeping down on 1 At the moment and in that red twilight they look like giants and like a black cloud. Fred --- marked very coolly : "Camanches five hundred them I We must run for it; southward!l scatter." The Indians had formed a crescent apd -enclos us more than a hundred yards on each wing. ,Th manoeuvre was a most effectual flanking. A flie of arrows came buzzing and whizzing past our ea My horse was a splendid stallion, black as the ace spades, and as fierce as a hungry wolf in Februai He was as brave as the boldest. trooper in our co mand, as savage as the ugliest painted barbarian the plains, and fleet as an antelope. In a momei there was but one chance of escape, I yelled to r comrades to wheel suddenly, fire rapidly, and da through a weak place in, thei advanice. In an insts they were within twenty -yards. -We were arm with Holt's cap-lock carbines and Allen's pepper-b * page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 182 AN, AD'VENTURE AMONt THE INDIANS. revolvers. With a yell we charged on them, firing as we went. Our fire was very effective.. A number of their painted braves tumbled from their steeds, who went dashing riderless over the plain, adding confusion to the already surprised enemy. I discov. ered blood streaming down .thi left side of my face, but we had no time for surgical examinations at that moment. While the Indians were huddled and almost inextricably mingled, we pushed onward, and making a long curve southward, left them far in the rear, but pursuing us. Our party separated, the more to baffle and disconcert the pursuers. I found that about twenty of the foe were following .me. They were steadily and pertinaciously pursuing me down. The foremost one, some two hundred yards in advance, rode a splendid roan horse. He came closer apd closer. About fifty yards separated us. I looked back anxiously -and found that his party had turned off, leaving him to follow me alone. In another in- stant ,the whiz of a ball and the crack of a rifle told me of my proximity to danger. I wheeled suddenly and confronted him. My horse stood as still as though he were a statue. Taking deliberate aim with my carbine, I fired at my enemy, at the moment he swugs himself over his horse's side-to hide from my shot. -He was an instant too late. The ball struck him to the left of the stomach, causing him to loose his hold in the horse's mahe, and there he lay at my mercy. I rode up to him;,and, when within ten feet, supposing him to be dead, was in the act of dismoun- ting-to gather any spoil there might be an Him; when AN ADVENTU1RE AMONG THE INDIANS. 133 he suddenly turned, when whiz went an arrow over my head He lay on one elbow, and placing his hand to his mouth, gave a long yell, the wail of his doom.. At a moment's glance I seemed to take a view of. all the scene. The warrior was one of the mostnoble specimens of his race. Much over six feet tall, com- pactly built, his strong, herculean frame well knit and covered with beautifully marked and developed muscles; 'his head surmounted with a tuft, in which was interwoven red and white feathers; his neck elastic and strong as that of an ox; .his limbs mod- elled in a straight an'd elegant mould, which Would have been the delight of an artist and anatomist; his leggings of soft buckskin, was ornamented with colored and white feathers. His face was-handsome, not'nearly so dusky or. swarthy as his race usually is. His-forehead narrow and delicately formed, his keen, jet hlack eyes were flashing with an intensity which is onrli seen in the eyes of Moors or the Indiaas and their descendenit, even through an at- tenuated mixture of blood. .His nose had a slight aquiline curve, giving him the nobility of appearance which attaches 'to that Roman feature. His high cheeks and broad unexpressive mouth were the ex. elusively barbarian features of the Indian. As he looked, that fierce, burning look, piercing my eyes wit/i-his intense hate of my ace, I saw his belt had the trophies the warrior prizes much. In an instant I took deliberate aim with my revolver, and as his defiant death yell died faintly away, the L i *. I ^ * * ' ' ' ' * * . page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] 184 N ADVENTURE9 AMONG THE 'INDIANS. stoical look of his race settled upon his face;, he saw his doom in my eyes, which burned as fiercely as his own, for I, too, with the blood of the Huguenot in my veins, have the burning, devilish eyes of the Moor. I fired, and fired again. A moment's strug- gle, and he stiffened in death. I have seen his face and that scene a thousand miles away, at night, in my sleep. I have seen it in my waking dreams at noonday. That fight on the solitary and lonely plain has been before me a thou:. sand times since, and at this moment it is as vivid as when it happened. His horse stood quietly familiarizing himself to mine. [fe was a noble fellow. -I fastened my rope noose upon his under jaw and started for the com- mand, taking my way slowly, because of my unusual fatigue. I had leisure to admire the splendid capture I had made. No steed of the Tartar or Ukraine or Arab- "ian breed could have been more beautifully formed. His small, delicately curved head was a model of beauty.-his broad nostrils distended like trumpet mouths to catch the music of the intoxicating air: His large, expressive eyes shone bright with an unu- sual intelligence. His broad forehead between the eyes would have been an admirable feature in a man. His small, straight and delicate ears gave an attrac- tive finish to his appearance. A thin, soft mane clothed his gracefully curved neck with as much beauty as magnificent flowing, hair crowns the impe- rial head-of queenly woman. His fore arm was made AN ADVENTURE AMONG THE INDIANS. 135 with the strength of a lion, and tapered as perfectly as the model of the Apollo Belvidere. Thin and tendinous sinews gave agility: and elasticity to hie beautiful leg, which was finished by a delicately turned, long and springy fetlock, as attractive to the eye of an admirer of equine beauty as though it werf ' the exquisitely fashioned ankle of a beautiful woman A perfect foot terminated a model hoof. Its neat anc perfectly rounded, dark structure, crowned it witl unwonted elegance. His rounded body had strong arched sides, on which the muscular undulation waved and delicately disappeared in strong and pow erful flanks and'quarters. A thick flowing tail car ried as proudly and gracefully as cavalier ever die his helmet, finished the living picture. Never did Landseer or Rosa Bonheur see: or imagine a more perfect animal. Their painter's -art could not make anything but a caricature in comparison. Breathing the luxurious and sensuous perfume of the flower2 plains, it imparted vivacity and intoxication to the movements of animal life, and in the proud, elastic step which marked his tread we found a pleasur which has always been a delightful remembrance tous Rapidly I bounded away from' the dead Indian anxious to reachcamp and exhibit my prize. Sud denly I noticed the horses prick their ears and snuff ing the air, then snorting loudly, sprung into a lone quick lope, which increased in rapidity, when a yell as if a hundred of the fiends were on my track. Ori on I dashed, the horses vieing in the race. Whi. went volley after volley of arrows, and yell after ye] .. .i page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 AN ADVENTURE AMONG .TE INDIANS. told how savagely the foe were pursuing me. The Southern Cross was bright in the sky, and Pleiades served me for a beacon. I fired my carbine several times at the pursuers, and also as a signal. Faintly, away off in the South, I heard the sound of a shot, and reined -i that direction. Another and another, nearer and clearer they sounded. The enemy were yelling with rage and disappointment. Straight on I dashed, now and then firing parting shots at my baffled foes, and soon had the relief. to discover them falling far in the rear. Panting, my fleet horses neared camp,- and in a few moments I was safe in the correl, Surrounded by many anxious, inquiring friends. At this moment, when the certainty of safety came over me, it only came to memory that I war wounded. -A burst of exclamations told me that my ear was lacerated very much. It had been nearly entirely cut off. A bandage over the head soon held- it in its proper situation, and thanks to the purity of prairie .air, and its healing influence, the wound healed rapidly, though a terrible scar remains to mark its severity. e -The captured horse was much admired, and enrap- tured me with his extraordinary points and excel- lence. But no one can imagine my astonishment when Quartermaster E coollyinformed nme that, as he was a capture he niust be turned over to the United States. Every one was indignant, but the fellow being a' born scoundrel and innate thief, had determined to secure the horse for himself, and I had -no recourse; but I determined he should never enjoy ETERNITY. '137 the prize. You can imagine my intense mortification when I saw him mounted. n my wind-born Caman- che steed of the plains. Those who knew me well advised him to return the horse to me and beware. One evening a bribe of whisky secured the co-ope, ration; or rather the obliviousness of the guard to any mischief we might-wish to perpetrate. I took the horse from his'picket and carried him about a mile to a clump of furr brushy knowing well if I turned him loose he would return to our camp or go to the Indians-again, I deliberately shot him. Such a look. of distress and pitiful agony I never can see again. I sat down on his quivering, dead body and wept- wept such tears (anch heartfelt grief was mine,) as no battle nor distress of war or sorrow has ever drawn from me since. 'Quartermaster E--, who was doubtless the most contemptible of his race, and really a coward, threatened vengeance and all that sort of' thing, but finding that prudence was the better part of valor, he forebore to have me punished, though he at times annoyed me with his petty tyranny, How I eventually got a delightful revenge on him I may tell you anon. [Atlanta Intelligencer.. ETERNITY. "Eternity has no gray hairs i"The flowers fade, the heart withers, man grows old and dies; the world lies down in the sepulchre of ages, but time writes no wrinkles on the brow of eternity. L* page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138- THE BATTLE OF CHrCKAMAuGA, Eternity I' The ever-prebent, unborn undecaying and undying- the endless chain, compassing the life of God-the golden thread, entwining the destinj of the universe.- Earth has its beauties, but time shrouds them for t he grave; its-honors, they are but the sunshine of an hour; its places, they are but as the gilded sepul. chres; its possessions, they are toys of changing for- tune; its pleasures, they are but bursting bubbles. Not so in the, untried bourne. In the dwelling of the Almighty can come no footsteps of. decay. Its day. will know no darken- ing-eternal splendor forbids the approach of night. Its fountakis will never fail. They are fresh from the eternal throne. Its glory w'ill. never wane, for there is the ever-present God O Its harmonies will nevqr cease ; exhaustess' love supplies the song. Tile BATTLE FIELD Of CHCKAMAUGA. T.?EN DAYS AFTE1'THE BATTLE, BY DR. I. E. NAGLEy SURGQOir 0. S. A. . We visited the Piel,. of the great battle on yester' day, commencing on the extreme left, crossing and recrossing ovdr the entire ground. -The scenes we witnessed are seldom exhibited on earth'; we will try to describe some of them. Wetentered the field at the Red House, where a few dead horses only attest the evidence of a severe skrmish.- Th. woods on the outskirts of the field o u . , - uE rATThLE OP Ci OHiKABMAGA. g did not exhibit much evidence of battle until we reached the steam saw mill, on the road leading from Ringgold, by way of Reedfs bridge, to Chattanooga. At this point several dead horses are decaying and producing a most foul stench. Several graves are visible. In an outhouse, stretched upon a litter, the dead body of a Yankee is^9xposed, and a most offen- sive stink exhales from tltL carcass. Along the road we saw numerous dead horses and Yankee bodies, All through the woods there were evidenes of sharp skirmishing where little artillery firing had been made. To the right of the road, about a mile, and close to the old Savannah road, there are some old fields, in which batteries were placed on the highest points. Our forces charged up these s;mall heights, and left the evidences of, their valor on the field, not alone in their own tattered'garments and equipments, and the graves of our dead, but also in a large num- ber of dead and stinking Yankees. 'Here we met a burial party who were really sick from tleir exposure to the tnwholesome stench. Behind this hill we met the first breastworks. They are made of logs and stones, arid situated to command the most probable line of attack. The debris of the conflict shs how savagely it was contested. Along the Chattanooga and Lafayette road, some- what to the left of Cloud's farm, the signs of despe- rate strife began to indicate the battle field. The country: is well cleared from the lowlands up the slopes of the broken range of hills, and some four or five farms are seen in the clearing. In. the edge o page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] 40 THE BATTLE OF CH'CKAMAtIGA. the woods on the crest of .the hills; the enemy were posted with tremendous batteries, their position being about a mile long, and bristling with cannon front- ing tfwo ways. The torn, pulverized earth, and the -mowns weeds and corn in the .path of their terrible sweeping fire, evinces the fierceness of the conflict. There is a very large' corn field and field of sedge on the' slope, and it was over this exposed, clear, open place, with a fence and gulley intervening, that our men charged steadily and successfully. A hundred' dead horses, broken caissons, dismounted cannon, broken ammunition, torn clothes, broken knapsacks, empt9 haversacks, bullets, torn canteens, broken .gunstocks, lundreds of torn shoes and hats, bloody bayonets, broken sabre scabbards, torn cartridge boxes, dead Yankees in piles of four, five and a dozen; a cord of cannon rammers, ropes, torn har- ness, numerous graves-everything .which is ever seen upon a fiercely contested and bloody field of battle. -Ali over these 1500 acres of open land, the conflict raged with a fierceness of which the evidence will long be apparent. Our forces carried the whole line of hills and the enemy's defence. Numerous wagon "waysffor their retreating batteries are seen, but it is evident 'they fell into our hands, for the paths end at short distances in the woods, apd only a few battery paths are seen on the rocky slope, over whose surface down ifito a ravine and along the slope of the hills behind, the Yankee dead are still putri- fying in the light of a bright September sun. Away far to the left of the opening the graves of THE BATTLE OF CHCKAMAUGA. 141 our men become numerous. Tennessee has her reg. iments marked on many. Oh! it makes me sorrow in my heart for my glorious friends and companions who are placed there. A thousand Yankee dead- some buried, many still lying in their bright blue uniforms, where our rebel bullets overtook them. Going. northward to the left of the roadway and along the brow of the hill, where 'the tremendous battery had done such fearful. execution, we see where the ernemy's right was turned towards his cen- tre, and through the defiles and ravines the fighting must have been awful. In one little dell at the head of a small ravine and directly opposite the old home used by .the Yankees as a hospital, situated at the upper end of the opening, there are a large number of our dead. South Carolinfa here has representa- tives from several of her noble regiments. A num- ber of graves of Mississippians are marked at various points in this vicinity. The place is easily found by noticing the accurate points I am giving. On'both. sides of the ravire are evidences of the terrible con- flict which raged. This was the front of the enemy's centre. Hundreds of dead Yankees attest the close character of the combat and the invincible efforts of our troops. Bck of this point is the highest hill, on which the Yankee centre was entrenched on all sides.. They had a large number of guns in battery on the brow of the hill, and down its slope they showered the storm of leaden and iron hail which cut lanes through the woods as though a tornado had passed over it. Trees two feet thick are cut off; page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] "2 THE BATTLE OF CHCKAMAUGA. limbs are hanging in all directions; tons of metal- balls, bombs, grape and slugs-are lying thick over the Whole wooded surface. Thousands of balls have * scarred every tree, shrub and bush; stones are torn into fragments; oyer nearly a mile in length in front of the battery, and -all around it within range, every foot of the ground has been torn and ploughed with shot and shell. On the right hand northern slope of the hill a little farm was cleared, and near the crest a thicl peach orchard once stood; behind this is a log house, the house of the proprietor, Mr. Snodgrass. This Snodgrass' hill -was the proper centre of the enemy's line. At the foot of the hill fronting toward the Chattanooga road there is a deep well, and to the right of this are three rows of breastworks made of rails, logs and stones. The enemy used the house as a hospital. Around it are the marks of war's destruc- tion. Death, in his most horrible, mangling and disfiguring shape, was there'on Sunday, and wagon loads'of buried arms and legs and dead, attest the fury and earnage of the demon of destruction. The hospital itself was untouched; its flag was respected by our forces on the centre and right. The centre was charged several times. Finally, Breckenridge's troops assaulted across the point where the well is seen, over the works, up the hill, through the orchard and amongst the trees, to the top of the hill, and here are the evidences of their valor. Right where their noble and desperate courage carried them thby have, erected a monument. It is composed of Kentucky's dead: Over the spot the roar of-a hundred cannon THE BATTLE OF CHCKAMAUGA. .143 deafened the senses. ve thin, pulverized earth and the beaten round spots show the despair and obsti-. nacy of, the Yankee cannoniers. It was. from this' point the Yankee centre broke and retreated in con- sternation and panic, throwing away their guns, accoutrements- everything which might impede their progress and retreat. Our troops did not pur- sue from this point until Monday, from what we. could learn. The evidences of their disorder and retreat is shown in the beaten woods. * It has the appearance for. miles as though thousands and thousands of cattle and horses had stampeded. Along Its course thousands of guns and equipments* were found. Our gleaning parties and visitors have cleaned. the ground so that not an article of value or use can now be found. It is very much so, however, over the whole field. From this hill we look down over a corn field and through the woods where our right wing came on like a hur- ricane. In- the field there is a large number of dead Yankees, whose black and swollen bodies glistening in the sunlight, are not either pleasant to the eyes, nor is the odor they emit a delightful perfume, except as an incense to our gratified soul that they are destroyed. They are our mortal enemies; that is reason enough for our want of charity. From this point we'travelled Northeast and East, towards Ringgold and (rraysville. Passing over the fla tor slightly rolling ground between Snodgrass home and Kelly's farm, the woods is literally torn into shreds. Horses and dead Yankees are lying ,. - , .e page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4 H- E BATTi-E OF CEICKAMAUGA. promiscuously about. The conflict all along the road, passing by Kelly's house and a half mile on either side, is more terrible in appearance than any other part of the field. The woods are thick and the land nearly level, which explains the matter-- evey .shot on such ground showing more plainly than on open ground. We found Mr. Kelly pack' ing up his household .goods. Numerous dead Yan- kees and horses are scattered about his house. One man had a leg amputated and apparently died under the operation. The leg was throw across his body, and there he lay, a most disgusting, yet extraordi- nary sight. Passing up the wood toward Chattanooga, the evidences of the fight present horrors upon hor- rors. The ground is nearly level, and the road very broadwith occasionally a field. As far"as the eye can see on either side, and at some places a mile in width, the conflict was close, almost hand to hand. All the destruction which can be imagined as attend- ing the terrible carnage of a battle field, is here in all its horror. The dust is thicker than we ever saw it anywhere, and over all the woods for miles in length and width, there is cast a mantle of impalpable dust which makes the gray forest more sad and melan- choly in the long slanting rays of the .setting sun. We leave the Chattanooga road and turn to the right. An open, narrow space in the woods, which seems to have been-:cut out for an old road, and may have been made a pasture field, .attracts our attention. We ride along the avenue, and on every side; thickly strewn, are the marks of the sharpshooters' skill, and the terrible effects obEhel and grape from masked battery. The loss was not alone, however, with us, but theifoe .et hlis fate. :. e -asleft the dreadful evidences-in many dead- : boies ::t ethe woods near the upper end of this opeing, we:saw one of the blup habited dear, sitting with his: back against a log, his arms on his kneeq, and his dangers dae tailed to- gether. Apparently he had sat down deliberately to die. The worms were feasting on him. His jaw aiiTging down ; his btack aniadghstenirng body, which had swollen until it burst off :his-'dething, was one. of the most'horrible and disagreeable sights we ever witnessed. Close by, another h crawled along a log, and placing his baek against a bus", iand resting his head on hishand helbow bent the elbbody in a reclining position he had pulled his cap over his eyes- and given'up his spirit from the battle field. We crossed Kelly's farm, passing from thie house back, across the field. A series of breastworks ranged in line on various parts of the field, but they seem' to have beeanof but little service. At the. back part of the field, sweeping eastward an;d south of east, was a large arid destructive battery. The worn places where each gun was placed iadicate: that ten or more guns were in battery'there. :The dead hor]s! and Yankees lying about tell how vengefuithe assaut was and how successful.*" But from the hiu where this battery cast its storm and a oof siot, andt shll:apd canister, and grape, The:-evi4enees .of iarere more appareuitt'ere tha: n ayheibels . tfield. The woods are very thick ii ttrees I be1s, and .he page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "6 THEE BATTLE OF CHCAMAUGAd limbs, trunks and branches, as they lie cut off an' torn' a iinla directions' made- an abatis, through whic our forces rushed and chirged to silence the loud th:roated voies of -those death-dealing engines. W pass through- the path of the artillery storm, an( here and there are the graves pf our fierce soldiers On the second hill, with trees and limbs lying thid about, evidences of the terrible passion of man, th graves of many brave Texans, 24th and others,res calmly, marked by the careful hands of:friends; bad of these are a number of Gedrgians. -Thence we tun to te left and follow the Savannah road. At inter vals the open woods shqow signs of the conflict beinu more severe than in the thickly wooded spots. Iti along here, we are told, General Hood an'd his mei made such terrible onset and slaughter.. They an that portion- of ouar army which. advanced from th Red House, and along the road to the right of the say mill, did-execution which is perfectly fearful. Th carnage was awtul; eveny avenue has been swept a by a broad besom of destruction in the hands o Hiecate. -Battery paths are innumerable. Here the5 foght, there'they retreated, leaving dead horses, men brokih aissons, piles of-ammunition, rent clothes and : struc-ii generally... On, onepoint on the rise of ' :r ; 1. :- w the body of a Jlarge' Newfoundland dog d;e-t y rwas the- pt of some battery, and wag : t'-'s" - hii'/ ig iit iip Cle bye jhim we counte( *' " kh *t ; +A Ykees, netary 1try dead horses saw more thana to-n of shell' shot' and canister, ani all the brolen and abandoned paraphernalia of ., stroig battery, all within' the space of. eighty feet square. The trees and bushes and undergrowtc h everywhere evince the furious encqirnter: andd despe rate struggle hi4ch had transp;red. The paths where our batteries followed tp, and at variou points were placed in position, are: iumerous, and showed. they were worked rapidly, doing fearful executjn, Over- , is p rt of the field; about a mile from the saw mill, there are evidences of most desperate and long contin- ued fighting. The ground is slightly rolling and lcky, and the chances for:open, fair'fightipgtabot equal. The left wing of the enemy resisted our onset thpre, and sullenly, but certainly, they gave way until they were doubled in their centre, and, on Sunday 'night i retreated back from Snodgrass' house toward Chatta- nooga. The evidences of the. conflict are more appa- rent and numerous on the entire field than-on any battle field we ever visited. 'All ovr it, breadth andi-: ,length, the same terrible marks of desolation are vi'i- ble. The fell spirit of destruction seemps tohave rioted in uncontrolled madness, farms'are destroyed, houses are deserted--fields are 'waste-no beasts, no birds,. :ot even a buzzard, can be seen. anywhere. The only signs of'life are the visiting and occasional bury. d ing parties.- - The whole, country fbr many iles abou is .Ciom-. pletely :deserted.- Thek;i ild:. :of ce, r havebeei , destroyed, and the people are oblig to lieave -to: : subsistence. :The etire :field o4ft el:.. : , , in length and from three to fi:ve ils ^inwith d been stripped of everything -thatour ei y nel t t r 5 ; ;; r r page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 - T1ri BATTLLE OF CBICKAMAUGA. or requi, as -rophirie of war. Thousands of vis- itors have gleaned and picked, uati there tre only found astW :torn and 'broken artieles of no, value except as souvenrs. Over al the extent of the field the .marks of sht are visible on every tree. We are certain' that not a *igle. 'tree has esoaped. All are scarred with from one to hundreds of marks, nmirnie, grapnel grape, canister, bombs, solicdshot, grenades- and ath tfie rest-,of the Tbjrnal appliances of war have clipped, cat, scarred, blasted, scathed, torn and brokeni* th6 forest. :We expehdd -over one and a half millions of am- munition, and nearly nine thousand heavy ordnance on the field. The -enemy must have expended a much egreateP quantity, they having the advantage of fixed positions during the action, and the only won- der wit ius is,-- hat where not even a single tree or bush- escapid, how our men were saved. The: evidences0 of the destuction- rained on the enemt anid'that hi- toss was very oreat, are plainly exhiited onf the feld. -Not-whstanding his boasts and ath the history they .make, the charnel house their own corpses make, th stench which arisesfrom their..yetunbiried dad - tells in plain and unmistak- able thoig h -dre: fl ;fti bgrs the. horrid carnival of bloOd and: the imxin se saorifieo they made; before the val nd- t ray o o :our Southern arns.1 *. dTle1a1eL 'boi--e: Taas- ke hih yetvremain uab-izie aaire .i!atele, int larirge numbers on various parts of the field. Our 'burial parties had not entirely ttiried our own dead after the lapse of ten days, but' were rapidly doing the work. The appearance t Yankees present in their closely buttoned unfor of blue, is peculiar. 'They have swollen to the s of mules, and in many instances ,haveburst th clothing. They are all glossy and black astheir o hearts or the glhomiest ebony Ethiopian whom in they pretended to love so well.- 'It may be so consolation to their surviving comrades to know tl turn to that color-for'whieh they are fighting, blacks on earth, black in death, blackin hell. The stench emitted over the fiel is intolera Putrefaction and decay has poisoned the air for m yet'like all dreadful things. people become use it, and thousands continue to visit. / We noticed one large room near the midle of field, in which arms and legs were piled five high and over the whole floor. From Gordon's toward Chattanooga, on either sie of the road, i best route for the visitor. The nearest way -to to 'it from the W.& A. Raoad is from Gray to the steam mill byf way of Reed's bridge, and up that broad road. Or go to Alexander's bridge Gordon's mills, and follow up the Chickamauga1 left, crossing and recrossing the road' as ouiot vises. To the left of the road, along the hill most desperate and bloody work was made a FromGraysvle or nggol thedisnne se twelve milesto te field, . -; - a , page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 160 TH END OF GREAT SEEN: MTIE- END OE GREAT MEEN. Happening to cast my eyes upon a, printed page of miiniature:portraits, I .perceived that the four per- sonages who- occupied the four rmpst conspiecous places, were Alexandert Hiannibal, COesar and Bonna parte. had seen the same unnumbered times before, but niever did the same sensations arise i;j iy bosomr s my mind: glianced oveiEtheir severai histories. Alexander, after having erimnbed the dizzy heights of his ambition, and with his temples boand. witl. chaplets dipped in the blood of courntless nationsr -looked down upon a conuered world and wept that there was not another-world forl him to conquer, set. a city:'n fire,'and died in a seen of debauch. Hannaibal,:after having; to the .Astonishmnen t andi consternatioa of Iica , passed the Alps after hav- ing puS-t:toi-ffight the armies of -this "Mistress of the world," and-stippel -threea bushels of goldpn rings from the fingers of i-hesitaigteed-kaigh. tse nd made' her very fotndations qutak, fled fron his eouintryr being hated by those who oniee exuTtroiny united his niai'zwrith :it:t. of-:'"ir i. od and called him .lanni Baal; and die-at last bty pQloon administered by his own bw ds, unlamenteff and unwept, m a foreigio land.; Caesar, after 1havinig onquered eight hundred cities and dyed:his garnen-t in the blood of one million of his foes; after having pursued to death the only rival: AiASEInOE OF MND. 15 he had on earth, was miserably assassiated by thos he considered his nearest friends, and in that ver; place the attainment of which had been his greates ambition. . Bonaparte, whose mandate kings and popes obeyed K after having filled the earth with 'the terror of hi name; after having, deluged Europe with tears an( blood, and clothed the'world in sackcloth, closed hi days in lonely banishment-.almost literally exile( from the world, ye t where he could soretimes sq his country's flag waving overLthe deep, but whic] would not, or could not, bring him aid. Thus those four men, who, froi- the peculiar situ ation of their portraits, seemed to stand as the reprf sentatives of all those who the ,w6rlalls grat those four, who each in turn made the earth tremEli to its very centre by their simple tread, severall, died-one by intoxication, or, as some suppose, bl poison mingled in his wine-; oae-a suicide; one mui dered by his friends, and one a lonely exile. " -'Hoi are the migkty fallen i"' - ABSENO: OF MND.-Lessing, the e..e .bratedafe man poet, was remarkable a 'fora'e f uent. ae ( mind. Having missed moiney at4iffint: mewi out being able: t- cdisoovei ha i.,^e d to put th6 lhonestyr of his servatt; to the -est,taiaed^ a handful of gold upon tfh-tl a ble , - : "Of- course yoXi eunted'Fri t, s- qiieO f his frie "Counted it," said Lessiag, :^rather: embarrse "no, I forgot that.?' page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152- TltI GREAT WALL OF CHNA. THE GREAT WALL OF CIINA. The most stupendous work of this country is the great wall that divides it from Northern Tartary, It is built exactly upon th-esame plan as the- all of Pekin, being a mound of- earth eased on either side with brick or stone. The astonishing magnitude of the fabric consists not so much in the plan of the work as in the immense distance of fifteen hundred miles over which it is extended-over mountains of two and three thousand feet in height, across dep vallies and deep rivers. The materials 'of all the dwelling houses in Scot- land and England, supposing them to amount to onel million eightl huidred: thousand, and to average, on the' whole, two thousand& cubic feet of masonry or brick work, are barely equivalent to the bulk, or solid contents of the'great wall of China. Nor are the projecting massy towers-of stone and brick inclu- ded in this icalcUlation. These alone, supposing them to continue throughout at bowshot distance, were calculated to contain as much masonry and brick work as- all'-Ledon. Togive anothier-idea of the mass of matterjn this. sttpendois fabric, it any be observed that it is more ha--na:Sufieint:-to s tori d ;the circumference .of the -erth on two of its gi^circles, with two walls, each six feet feet high 4 a w thick. It is to be under- toodi, h:owevYe th-tNiinhis calculation is included thefearthy part ii the diddle of the wall. ... . THB SPIRIT OF UNREST. 1 THE SPIRIT OF UNREST. To illustrate the difficulty of being contented wi one's lot, Dr,. Franklin gave'an apple to a little chi: This filling one hand, he gave it a second, whi filled the other. He then (ffered it 'a third-larg, rosier and more beautiful than the 'other two. . Fa ing to hold all three it'burst into tears. Inthe pr ciple thus illustrated, we discover one of the strong( contributors to man's happihesa and unhappiness this life. Discontented with bor present state, we X ever seeking " solid bliss by trying'something nev Impelled by the spirit of "unrest, man is constan seeking 'for something beyond his present grasp, a he -who has experienced the joy of the inventor discoverer, can believe us when we say there is earthly joy like that which ascends in the glad "Eu reka " shout with which one heralds- his triumph Men believe that in earthly fame and glory is to found the boon of happiness, yet when these : once attained, they always afail-with the false m because it is-not in hisi nature to be filled-with-1 true man, because those feebler liihts-are lost in i brighter glory which he experitriices, the inward l isfaction of having taken a step in advance of age.. Appealing to hi'-m thouh: the .sentimeni "What man b as:done, imanbo ? do this pirit "unrest" reveals to him thei i'dden things beyc the bounds of present vkn'owiedge', and -ea soul the grandeur, the beauty of creation. T page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] THE SPIRIT OF UNREST. i" unresting" in the present, once revealed a great idea to a man, and for twelve long years-years of disappointed hope 6bt Tailure' and accounted mad- ness-this man sought to embody his idea, and be. hold now. in everyy dwelling the record of the labors and triumph of Daguerre.: Men, fellowrmen with you and I, have. conquered hidden ideas, and in their jubilant glee have lacked the means of proclaiming their triumphs to.the world; and lol greaj.T inven- tions have given them publicity. Steam cried, "Har- ness me down with your iron bands,' and it was done. The lightning laughed in hoarse thunder notes. at the impotence of man, and defied him, aind o it has been -chained .o the chariot of thought, and now vies with the speed of light in its haste to do man's bidding The spirit of a"unrest '-the soul of progress, and ' the inspiration, of genius-is well nigh invincible. Let an idea but once laugh in its face, and no matter how vague, no matter. iow dimly seen far down the corridors, of the unattained, and it pursues that-idea, "unhasting, yet un-resting," . ."O'er steep, through straight, rough, dense or rare, And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies," steady in the pursuit until it overtakes and drags it forth for the inspection of the world. Are there great nmen living ?t, Study then, an4 you will find their spiriti united with industrjy and unwavering perse- verance, at the bottom f all their success.. The joy of Hope lih'ts their pathwI, untit it becomes the joy of the attained, only to hbra k forth again in ' first-born,'glory, to light them once more. But not THE SPIRIT OF UNREST. thus alone has it blessed the world It" is a favorite pastime with many to bewail the devastation caused by ambition, conquest, and that ," insatiate grasping for power" manifested by thew world's tyrants. Are they tyrants? Who woildtaffirm that Casar's con- quests did not more for the savage nations of the North than the preachers of peaceful civilization would have done for them to the present? Who would declare that Napoleon, with all his insatiate ambition, then'embodied spirit of unrest," did not more for the progress, the liberty of Europe, than all the peace associations the world ever saw?. Did he act from an ambition that was purely ungodly? There are those who say he did, and there are those who are willing to: put faith in- the good spirit of his heart, and say he.truly sought the good of his coun- try and of Europe. Let him who would accomplish much, be carefuklest he be ready to iest in the present. The spirit of which we have spoken calls to us daily, hourly, in -the voice of duty, obligations to God, our. llows, and to self, commanding us to rest not, but "seek that which is good." If disobeyed, it punishesj for who more miserable than he who is wiling to/sit down quiet and inert, satisfied with the attained, beholding no good in the future, but ease, inactivity and ingloriousness. He is happiest who, rather than be tossed by this spirit as by an angry sea, is willing ,to w6rk, to keep in advance of its rest; less surging ;- :for by ,that very spirit, which seems the tyrant of his life, he is enabled to overcome-to conquer for himself a kingdom. page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 A, HGHLANDER'S LESSON-HOME. A HGHLANDER'S LESSON.-A Highland piper hav'ing d scholar, to teaoh, disdained to crack his brain with the names semibreves, minims, crotChets and quavers.,. "Here, Donald," said he, "take your pipes, lad, an4 gie 's a blast, So, verra weel blawn, indeed; butCWhats-^a sound, Donald, without sense. You may blaw fofever without making a tune o t, if I dinna tell ye how the queer things orr the paper niaun help. ye, Ye see that big fellow, wi' a round open face, (pointing to-a semibreve between the-two lines of a bar:;) he moves slowly from that line to this, while' ye beat ane wi' your fit, and gie a lang blast; if now ye pta leg to him, ye-make twa of him, and he'll run twice as fast:; and if ye black his face he'll run four times faster than the fellow wi' the white -face; but if after blacking his face, ye'll bend his knee, or tie:his, legs, he'll hop eight times faster than the white faced chap that I showed you. first.. Now, whene'er ye-blaw yer pipes, Donald, remember this, that the-tighter those fellows' legs are tied the faster -they'll run, and the qujcker they're '. sure to dance .. ' -ing a swe .t .mvlodioas measure,l: :.Waft, exchantinglays around;- Home'-a tlem replete with pleasure, ' ' 'HUmiem- a':tpateful theme resound.' - flome, wset hlome-- an ample treasure I itiomwi;t) 1ebrtlei ing drowned; Htome,ip0adsutdoie of ple4sure; ^ -..": o - A:W "61le strai -resound. 4 H " . . - ^MG . 3EM GEMS.. ' h, man so prodigal of words; mi deeds O6ft wise ard wary, le't thy brother worm 'Should!hang-thieon hls echo taunt of shame, low dar'st thou trifle wiih all-fearful thoughtl Beware of thoughts; they whisper to tho ravere. FIow mute to thee, they prompt the diamond pen-- 'Of the recording: agL .. . Make them friends- Those dread seed-platers of 'eteriity, Those sky-reporting heralds. Make them friends.: .Alas'! how vaain "'he wreath that Fiame would bins around our tomb 'The winds shall'waste it, and the worms destroy, While from its home of bliss, itli disrobed soul Looks not upon its greenness, nor deplores ,.tswithering loss. Thou who last toiled to earn The fickle praise of JposWerity, ; ,Come weigh it at the grave's brink, here with me, If thou canst weigh a dream. -iath not memory stores whereon to feed, When joy's young harvest fails; as clings the bee 'To the sweet &clyx of some s'nitten fldwer. They who ,sit tOn gilded throne, ith ruiied diadem, vCaparisoned and guirded round, till death Doth stretch them 'eath som- gorgeous canopy; Yet leave Do foot pirts in tei rean if mind- Call them not ings-4-'-ie bit tcrowned men. Thoug, ti-e y yo;u,: h : stealig, There's. still baye nd hiisa t, The wild-flower wreath of feelin' The sunbeam of t heheart,.' page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] fH6H MY VALENTINE. - ^, ,- . ; M- Y VALENTINE. O, some may think me crazy, Andiothers deem me rash; Butt ruly I iust doctor . - My afintingyoung moustache. --, Yes,;stalightwy t the barber, This moment I will fly; -.And - teab the healing virtue.: Of patent whisker dye; As sure as I am living, The baiier's not a quack; He's turned them from a yellow, To a bright glossy black. O, now in winning beauty, "How gracefully they'curl I U surely be admired By every witty girl. , Deceitful gents, remember The ladies-know your pains; That hair is often givenh More plentiful than brains. 'Vo ta'lk of patent blushes That ladies love to wear, And alj the -aile you're sailing! i der colors false as fair. Now don't my lduck imagine, :A -:yon I 9loge aopng. the. street, b jy"'" ' Oo, ye :,.', j Ta yo QU - just the fTancy -Of every girpyou meet. - ' Toolt-f t4skies;-- 'ou next*must get the painter t i-s, ^ * * , h TO woki yblq eyes, S5i nPmi ;r. . - H03 O E. MOME. Home, sweet home I 'tis a cherished spot, To every heart held dear, Round which fond mem't'y twiies a wreath, To bud and bloom each year. 'Tis a precious mine-a pure shrine-- A haven-bright and fair;- How oft our barks with shattered sail, Return to anchor there. No matter where our feet may rove, The heart will fondly cling To the dear scenes that gilded o'er Life's joyous, sunlit spring. They come but once in a human life, Then but to pass away, Giving to all' foretaste here Of heaven's noonless day. Be that home a marble mansion, . Or but a lowly cot; . As turns the needle to its- ole, Will memory .seek the spot. Yes, through the mist of circllhg years, Our thoughts by grief 'oppresse Will wander'"back o'er smiles and tears, To find that golden rst . Our thirsting hearts by: nature seek A pure and .changeless stream, A realm of bright ufalinglight:. - Above,.life's fickle,de ;-. . , A home of homes, nbot-made wth hands, Where love and peaoeeshalldweH ; Where 'sounds of diseord shall ne'er arise, To break the magic ;spell; . s , ' ' , , page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] * .. ' 1O - T. r REVEILLE THE RtiVELLE E^ A ,PARODY., The rebel guns were hushed at last, And o'er the field of battle Bassedt A lad who boe not over nice, A disFy with this gay device- , / : The Reveille t ls. browwas bright hiseye below Gleamed like a genf in virgin snow, And like a strain from harp or lute, Arose on high:ris gay salute-- '\' . sThe Reveille t^' By snowy tents lie saw the light, Of redfcamp fires ffsEi warm and- bright, Like the smiles from the fiery zone, And from his-lips escaped asroan- The Reveille ' . "Try not the line," the picket said; "-Mark yonder bones of'sainted dead, That path with-martyrs' blood is dyed," 13u- still that ckildisr vSice replied- The Revealie!. "O remain,' said a vivandiere, "And seekk repose,-you've' nought to fear,'^ A tear sprang from his beaming eye, And yet. he answedred i reply- ' - lThe Reveillee! '"'Bewareiehe bushiwhidkeres cruel sl-0f'; - Beware th6 prowi r's ogloomy lot;" This wa- the sle nty' last good-night,. The lad replied far opt of sight-. - The Reveilla I *Written for the first number bf a paper called:"The Reveillee." ' THE CO T OF MAIL. ' At early dawn, as from a tramp, The weary scout returned to camp, Leading his faithful, gallant bay, A voice broke o'er the misty way- ' ' The .lRveille I A traveler stretched. on the frozen ground, - In 'the freezing arms of death was'.found, - * Still grasping in a hanaof ice, ,- .. The daily with the strange device- The :Reveille I There in the twilight cold and gray, ,- In the long, dreary sleep he lay, . While through 'the mornng's dreary spell, Dropped a voice like a screaming shell--. The Reveille * THE -COAT QF MAIL. Just before Napoleon set out for the court of ] gium he sent to the cleverest artizan of his class Paris, and demanded of -him w hether he would gage to make a coat of -mail, to be wori under ordinary dress, which should'be absolutely bu proof; and that if so, he might name his own p: for such a work. - The, man engaged to make' he desired objec allowed proper time, and.,he named eigiteen t1 sand francs as ,the price- of., it. .The :bargin was cluded, and 'in due time the- wtork ews ptiduced, its maker honored with second audience 'f- the-] peror. "Now"' said /-is Imp'rial jgty, 'pl on." The man did .so. ." As I am to stake my * - page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 1a% X S rA CFf;B A 4M. f- , ' . on ats efficacy, yow will, I suppose, have no objection, to do the same." And he took f a brace ofpistols, and prepared to discharge one at the astonished .arti, zan. There was no retreating, -however and half dead with fear, he stood the fire, and, to the infinite credit of his work,- with perfect impunity.' But the Emperor was not content with one trial; he fired the second pistol at the back of the trembling artizan,. and afterwards discharged a fowling-piec at another part of him, with similar effect. "Wemly said the: Emperor '. you have produed a .capital work, un- doubtedly: what is the price of it'? - "'Eighteern thousand francs was namedl as the agreed sum." "There is an order for them," said.,the Emperor "and here is another for an equal amount for the- fright I have given you.". A- GEM. * The waves came dancing o'er the sew 1i bright and glittering bands; LikKttle childret wiid with feee, 'They {ink4ed their dimpted hands-- They liiked their hamds, but ere I caught ' Their sprinkled drops' of dew, Aw. ay e ripplesflew. The' twilight hura-like birdsi flew by, As lightly and as free; Ten .-thusaind stars werem ia the sky . -' -'en thowand i.: the sea; For every wave. ih dimple face, \That leaped. in m the air, Had tugf i sal in itsembrace; . And held it trembling there. - [Slected, " b } i , THE HNGARIA, HORBSE-DEAAiR. 1 TEW HUNGARIA EHORSE-DEALER FROM THE LIFE OF A ROBBER.- On the third night after his departure from Vienn he stopped at a quiet- in- lsituated in the suburbs a small town.. He had never been' there before' b- the house was comfortable, t and the appearance of tl people about it respecthle. Having first attends to his tired horse, he sat down to supper with - host and family. During the meal he was ask( whence he came, and'when he said from Vienna, were anxious to know the news. The dealer to them all: he 1}new. The ohost then enquired .wlh business had carried him to Vienna. e- told the that he had been there to sell some of the best hors that were ever taken to that market. .When. he hea this, the host cast a glance at one-of the men of t family, who seemed to' be his son, which the deal scarcely observed then, but which he had reason recall afterwards. When supper was finished t fatigued traveller requested -to be shown to his b The host himself took up a light, and conducted h across a little yard at the back of the house, to a : tached building, which contained two rooms toleral decent for an Hungarian hotel. In the inner of thi rooms was a bed, and here the host left him to hi self. As the dealer-threw off his jacket and looser the girdle around his waist where his money was posited, he thought he might as well see whethel .' page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 184 TD^. HNGA IAHgQOETDALER, was all safe. Accordingly, he drew out an old leathh -e er pursethat contained his gold, and then a tattered P elhment pocket-book that enveloped the Austrian bank notes, and ,rnding that both were quite right, he. laid them under the bolster, extinguished the flight,' and, thPew-himself op the bed, thanking God and the saints that had carried him thus far home- ward in sa'fety. He. had no misgivings as to the peo- pl1 he had fallen among to hinder his repose, and the poor dealer way soon enjoying: a profound and happy sleep. - Bie might have been in this state of beatitude an hour or two, when he was disturbed by a noise like that of an opening window, and by a sudden rush of cool night air. On -raising himself on the bed, bhe saw peering through an open window-'which was almost immediately above, the bed-the head and shoulders of a man, who was evidently attempting to make his ingress into the room that way. As the terrified dealer looked, theintruding figure was with- drawn, and he heard a rumbling noise, and .then the voices of several mena, as hethought, :close under the window. The-most dreadful apprehensions, the more horiole as they were so sudden, now agitated the .traveller, .who, scarcely knowing .what he did btut uterly de..pairing of preserving his life, threw hinelf under the .bed. He had scarcely done so when the hard hreathing ofa man was heard at the Open wihdow, and the. next monenut a robust fellow dropped into the room,. and, after staggering across it, grped his way by the walls to the bed. Fear -THE HUNGARIAN HORSE-DEALEiB. had almost deprived the horse dealer of his setn but yet he perceived that the intruder, whoever might be, was drunk. There was, however sli comfort in this, for he might only have swallow wine to make him more desperate, and the- trave was convinced that he had heard the-.voices of ot men without, who might clirmb into the room to sist their brother villain in case any resistarice mi be made. , His astonishment, however, was gi and reviving when he heardvthe fellow throw off jacket, on the floor, and then toss himself upon bed under which he lay. Terror, however, ] taken too firm a hold of -the traveller tobe shal off at once; his ideas.'were too much confused to ] mit his imagining any ohe other ote forsueha n might intrusion on an unarmed man with prope about him, save that of robbery and assassinati and he lay quiet where he waw until he h'rd: fellow above him snoring with all the sonorousn of a drunkard. Then, ihdeed, he would have- his hiding place, and gone to rouse the people-ii inp, to get another- resting place instead cf the 1 of which he had been dispossessed in so sirigula manner; .but j'ust as -he eae to this resolution, 'heard the door of the outer room open-then steal steps across it-.then, the door of the very room wS in was softly opned, and two men, one ofwh was the host, and the other' hi son, appea ed on threshold. "Leave thp light. where it is," whispered the he '" or it may disturb him and give u troubled' i ' ' * , page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] It 316 TB H9UN GARIAN HROSE-ILDEALE.. "There is no feat of-that,' said the young- man, also in a .hisper: -'"we arewtwo to one; .he has noth- ing but a little' knife about him-he is dead asleep, too! -Hear how he snores'" ' * "Do my bidding,"' said the old man, sternly, "would you have nmi wake -and -rouse the neigh- borloo with his screams 1?" -As it was, the horror-tricken dealer under the bed could scarcely suppress a shriek, but he saw that the someftth'e light iff the outer room, and then; pulling the door partially after them, to screen the rays of the'lamp froni the bed, he saw the two murderers glide to the bedside, and -then heard a rustling mo- tion as of arms descending on the bed-clothes, and a hissing, and then-a grating osound, that turned his soul'sick, for. he knew it came from knives or dag- gers penetrating to the heart or vitals of a human being lce iimself, apd .only a. few inches above .his own body .'This was followed by one sudden and violent start: on' the bed, ccompanied by a moan. Then the bed; which was a low one, was bent by an increase of weight; caused by one or both of the murderers thrdwig themselves upon 'it, until -it -epsed-n'n the body of the traveller. Then there was an awful silence for a moment or two, and thee. the Qist said . I: "He. is finished-I-have cut him aeross the throat; take the money; I saw him put it under the bolster."' "I have it--here it is," said the son, "a purse and a poket book." . The traveller was then -relieved fromi the weight THE IiUNGARI&AN -ORSE-DEALER. t6 which had oppressed him almost to suffoeati-on an the assassins, who seemed to trbmble as they wen; ran out of the room, took; up the Ilight 'and disai peared from the apartment.' Nor sooner wre th-e gone, than the poor dealer- crawled from iinder th bed, took one desperate leap, and escaped throug the little window by which -heo had; seen enter, th unfortunate wretch whoihad' evid ently been mu dered in his stead. ' He ran with all his speed ini -the town .:where. he told his horrid story and mirac ulous escape to the night-watch;. The night-watch conducted him to the burgomaster, who was so aroused from his sleep and nmade acquainted with a that had happened. - - In less'than half ant hour from the "time of the escape from it, the horse-dealer was again at the mur derer's inn, with the magistrate and a strong. force - the horror-stricken inhabitants, -and the night-watch who had run thither in the greatest silence. e ' In the house, all seetne& as;still as death ; but the party. went round to the: :stables, 'they -heard noise, Cautioning the rest Ito surrouiad the inn ar the out-houses, the magitrate, with the travellei' ai some half dozen armed men, ran to the stable doc This they opened, and found- withinthe- ,host and son digging a grave. The first :figttgre thamet ti eyes:6of the murdererstwas that6f thpe,'tivele:: Tl effect ,f 'this; on; th-irguihty so" lsw' .i..h be borne; they shrieked, and threw themeles the ground, and thoaugkbatheywere iimmed iamtly:i: -by hard grappiing hiand of real flesh nndJ lood, , . /I' , . .. . , page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 THE HUNGARIAN ^O RSS-DEALEB I heard the voices'oef thQ magistrate and their friends and neighbors denouneing them as murderers, it ,wa some minautes ere they cIcqld believe that 'the figure of the traveller that stood-:among them was other than a i spirit. It was the hardier villain, the father, who,-on hearing, the stranger's voice contiauing- in conversation with-the magistrate, first gained suffi- cient command over himself to raise his face from the earth.- He saw the stranger still pale and hag- gard, but evidently unhurt: .The murderer's head spun rodund confusedly; but at length, rising, he said to those who held him- - "Let me see that stranger nearer; let me ,touch him-only let me touch him 1" The poor horse dealer drew back in horror and disgust. "You may satisfy him in this," said the mgistrate, he is unarmed and unnerved, and we are here to prevent his doing you harm." On this, the traveller let thoe host approach him and pas his hand ov er his person, which, when he had done, theeylIlain excclaimed: *' I am no murdererl- Who says I am a mur- e derer?"' .. - "'That shall we see anon," said thetraveller, who led the way to the. detraced apartment, tollowed by the -magstrate, by the twoprisoners, and all the party whickh ad collected in the stable on hearing -what passed :there i* - Both father and snl : waled with considerable con- - :fideice im0o the rboim, but when they: saw, by the THE tBUNGARIAN. BOORSE-DEAL'fR. 16 lamps the night-watch and others held over it, ths there was a body, covered with blood, lying upon the bed, they cried out- "How is this? Who is this? and rushed togethe to the bedside. . The lights were lowered; their rays fell upon the :ghastly face and bleeding throat of a young man At the sight, the younger of the murderers turned his head, and swooned in silence; but the fathe tuttering a shriek so loud, so awful, that one of the eternally damned alone might equal its effects, three -himself on the bed, on the gashed and bloody body -and murmured-in his throat, ' My son- I have killed ny own son l" also found a temporary relief from -the horrors of his situation in insensibility- The next minate the wretched hostess, who w: innocent of all that had passed, and who was, with -out knowing it, the wife of a murderer-the mother -of a murderer, and the mother of a -murdered son- -of a son killed by a brother and father-ran to the * -apartment and would have increased ten-fold in already insupportable horrrs, by entering there, had :she not been prevented by the honest towns-people -She had been roused from sleep by the noise made in the stable, and then by, her husband's shriek, and was now herself, shrieking and frantic, carried back into the inn thy main force. The two murderers were forthwith bound and car ried to the town jail, when, on the examination which was made the next morning, it appeared from evidence that the person murdered was the younger o O , page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 THE.'IIUNGARIAN .HORSE-DEALER; gon-of the landlord of the inn, and a person never suspected of any crime or serious than habitual irunkenness; "that instead of being in bed as his Fathei and brother had believed him, he had stolen Dut of the house and. joined a party of carousers in the town; of these boon companions, all appeared' in evidence, and two of them deposed that the de- 3eased, being exceedingly intoxicated, and dreading his father's wrath, should he rouse the house in such , state, and at that late hour, had. said to them that he Would get through the window into the little de- taehed;apartment, and sleep there, as hehad often done before, and' they two had accompanied him, and- ssisted him. to climb to the window. The deceased had reached the window once, and, as they thought, would have got safely through it, but drunk and unsteady as he was, they had some difficulty in inducing him to climb again, for, in the caprice of his intoxication, he said he would rather go and sleep with one of his comrades. However, he had at last effected his entrance, and they; his two com- rades, had gone to their respective homes. The wretched criminals were executed a few weeks after the o iio Of the crime. They had con- fessed everything, and restored to the horse-dealer the gold and the paper money they had concealed, and whlch had led them to do a deed so much more atrocious than even they had contemplated. MUNCHAUSEN. MUNCHAUSEN. *, . , i, Mon ami. Would you believe it, we met Yes MJunchausen redivivus. Met him- on the ca the State road. He was dressed in quiet sober Had on a neck tie as white as purity is suppoi be, (why?),and had a clerical countenance en which forbid, at first sight, the presentation a * of a bottle of exquisite eau de vice; we learnei ter, however, afterward. Discovered he was. Arkansas last, though a codmopolite generally. modestly suggested the fact that the $rees in th4 sissippi valley grew to enormous height, some we had seen being ten feet in diameter. Thi, moderate, but we had struck his peculiar forte. "Ah!" said he, "ten feet, my dear sir. We houses in the hollows of the huge sycamore Western Arkansas. We have everything the a magnificent scale. Why, my dear fellow, we a'church in our place so high, that the people s ing on the street below, had to yell very loud they read the inscription over the belfry ; the pi not being able to construct a ladder long enm found himself obliged to tae hold. of his bre seat and'lift himself up to paint the spire.. .1 from the place one day, and the distance was so -he passed into thin air, and nothing was left he reached the ground."' "Will you have a drink?"' "With all my pleasure. Your good health. page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 -LC MUCGHAt ,SEN', "You are rather a fast community, I expect, out. there. The same sysite in. ererything, eh?" "Yes, sir. Our railroads are the slowest things there.' Thetrains onrTy run eighty miles an hour. They beat us in Eastern Europe. Why I saw trial trips of alarge engine there once, that ran, a hundred miles an hour.. The engineer was found dead on the box; the fast running had 'taken away his breath, and when we stopped we found several small engines- in the fire box of our big one; we had picked the little fellows up .along the road. But we can beatd the world for thieves in Arkansas.' I had a cousin who kept a saw mill, and once whilst I was preach- ing on that ircuit, I became cognizant of a cute trick some thieves done. Cousin had some very fine walnut logsat his mill, and night after night they were stolen. One night he set a watch of two men. They sat on a fine large log, and drank whisky and played cards by moon- light, until they fell asleep. lext morning, when. they 'aked, they found that some thieves had driven a wedge into one end of the log they had been asleep upond nd with 'some oxen, had driven away with the Ilg, leaving'them sitting on the bark. Th- stream cousin Jived on was -a thundergust affair, and it was only by being so crooked that it kept water in it -at all. Why, within a mile from the mill it crossed itself four times; and at one place, ran up hill some distance..: "We'presume it nevertheless went dry occasion- ally - A. , * ESTRANGED. , 1' "Aye about as dry as I am on the present occ sion. Your good health, gents, hahl hahl" At this moment he spied an acquaintance with "Helloa, Jiml what are you doing now?" "Oh, I'm on a detail down here at Atlantar." "What sort of detail have you got on?" "Why, whar I -gits lots to 'eat and certain su coffee to drink, and 'casional drinks when the d( tors don't watch too close, or drink it themselv I'm a nussin' in the -- Horsepittle." We retired with a sorrowful, lingering look ate Munchausen. [Dr. L E. Nagle, Surgeon C. S. A. t ESTRANGED. Y jJOHN G. SAXE. , Ah Hwell, we're wiser at last; The charming delusion is over; , Your dream of devotion is past, And Ham'n&h longer a lover. But, darling, (allow me the phrase, For simple civility's sake,) Don't think, in this calmest of lays I've any reproaihes to make. Ah, no --not a querulous word Shall fal from my passionless pen; ' The sharp little scolding-you've heard \p. - - I never shall utter again . But if in this final adieu, . . . 'Too chilly for even a kis, .;.,: I venture a comment or two,. You surely won't take it amiss. O* ' :, * page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] ' . * * 174 SHADOW AND SUtBSTAKlC I'tm thinking, my dear, of theday, ^ ;'"-' '{ :Well, 'habit; -*ertiauly queer, * And Otill ia aIover-ker way;. - I all you m"m darling ai tdear I'm 'tiinking, I sar,of the time vow;e yot werei charmigly clever- -And rav . of i Jyo(urbeautygis rhyme, - A ; nd promised to love youm foreverl Forever I a beautiful phrase, Suggestive of heaVenly pleasure- That millioms and millions of days Were- wholly unequal to measure l: And yet, as wie sadly have seen, - The-case:-is remarkably-clear, . 'Tis a word that mayhappen to meamn. rather less than a calendar year. Yet I nevatr have broken, my vow, Although. admit that I swore To love you fer, aiH at' now Confess that I love you no more For since you're no loUger the same, (Heaven pardon and pity us bothy To be loving yo I nsw, pio6laiti Wr. -reMybbreink my oath -P SADOW NtD SU8BSTANE - Poimt me not to-thbUtWmple of beauty, - here-w h ipers" keel at a shrine, * Whioh remains-ebit a peinttto dazzle Then ceaseefes fevr to shne ; ' Fora smile .on;the fipsof i statue, 'MadeMfai bythe I a, May enchant; butt i thj "allefits splndor, there's noighthuti:A Mo ro narbi :heart.. * . .\ - OOGITATIONK So may the mafgical, tri ooloved arch, Which rests on he brow of the storm, Awaken each slumbering sense", With the hues of its beaa"t'Wi form.. But while we are gazing in wont et, On, the bemas of- this brilliant array, The form--of ih-dream-ife 'creation Is melting andc faiing away. This will afl graces save those of the mind, Like the flashes-of the meteor's light, "or a moment bwilder and blind us, - -But the s -oong to vanishin night. Ohl ther with the pearls thaAt are lASing,. Be virtue and knowledge combined, That our heavenly eciown maybe fashing, With the starlit beauties-of irtnd. C001 AItT JIO S. s tOh,Iwo ul Herea poetT- I'd-weave: a net of rhymes, And i' it I Swould:ta^gle Apictuxre of tre tintes . r-d ha ng it I the heavens, And bid:t he .atii .ite, Withithi rilagiirror, .:. , , . e Refleeitiots. whi h are! true , How- patr irtic Ia es Our^nfaietnatidonad When for eb poimd,of pbodace, *' "Just com-peoas-lo p s 'ai a" tnd men behind the r c e Would be aishamed to tilve' For they only make enough page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 70 lC1OGfeATIOITS. To keep themselves alive; Or i. a IivaEry cariage, -At f rty sluga dy They take the1best avia,n ith nopw- and thena rt They spout upon thecurrency, , - And tell you what they think;-. if they but had th' power, - They'd lead u thro gli the sea, Thed bring a brigter hour, Aiid set the peoplee : fe. - But hayve yop u seen the Colonel, --- 'With that hai upon his face ;- With a double row of buttons, And forty yards of lace? Oh, truly he's a beauty I Besides he's very .brave; To Fashion or to Yankees, He'll never be a slave. A paragon of courage, He'll shout the battle cry, A rd prove to any barb er, He's not afid to, die. He pockets hiscom mission, . And promnetiaies the street, To show his fiaey trappings, A. d waitohthestladies feet.: 'Tis thus .thesegallant geantry May reyj. binm thberear; While but'the:humble private," Isn't furtoughed :one ae yar. * Had elch ote done' ia:i du ty, Anrid-riv ei to 4r ee; . Our torn m d bleed:iinnationf , Had losng ag been free. - THE SOL;DIERa TRIALS. 17 ' , , - * THE SOLDIER'S TRIALS. None, save those who have been taught by bitt experience, can even imafine the innumerable tria: and hardships that color the soldier's life. I coul not ac'urately describe them if I would; words ai too feeble to express half the truth. Could I fin expressions vivid enough to -paint the fearful gnav ings of hunger,. the pangs -of a burning thirst, th fever's consuming fire, or the chilling horrors of the battle field-even then thee liveliest conception would, be as far from the reality, as is the electric from it dull imitation on canvass. I would not have yo think me desponding ; far from it. God help me t meet my duties cheerfully-help me to consider i a privilege as well as a duty to "Strike for our altar and our fires.'" - Yet I would have you fully. appreciate the soldier' services; and to do this, you should hear his sad fart well, when, with tearful eye, he leaves his home an( heart-treasures, for the camn and the field; you shoul be near, when, upon the rugged march, he sinks to th earth from exhaustion, and writhing under the toi tures ot thirst, he would sell his own right hand for cup of water; and think of him, when faint and wear he is drawn up in line of battle t What scenes no rise before his vision t Behind himsare home and dea ones-before him may be wounds, imprisonmenf o death. He falters for a moment, but is only for :.-A page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] f* 178 T S OLDIE'S TRILS. moment, the thought of grey-haired .parents, of wife and little ones, and the dangers to Which they are exposed, fills him with courage. With a prayer in his heart and a shout on his lips, he bares his breast to the hail:torm of death.' Loolk again. upon that scene after :this fiery shock is passed. Where now are the raiks of brave men which moved in the strife? They are broken and shattered) like the angry billows that lash the" rocky shore. Many of them have sunk to rise no more; they will be laid coffinless and shroudless in' the soldier's shallow grave, far from: hiome and friends, amid the shrieks and groans of" wounded' comrades, who are stretched upon the crimson sod, wrappedii the dust and smoke of the battle plain:t Such are some of the dangers and trials of the brave defenders. of our soil. Oh, remember, you who: are at home, living in luxury, remenmber, I entreat you,' the poor and needy. The strong arms which would shield them from want, are * even now linked together like bands of steel upon our threatened 'bbrdr, for the protection of your well filled cribs, as well as their own humble possessions. The providing hand has been withdrawn from the wife and-helpless babes tr grasp the sword in defence of our libterty, and' it is yotr :sacred duty to share with the sufferers hfiatwliclh you have saved by their sacrifices,;ani if you: give, cash ot that-giving char ity, for as eod iliveth'i-;tis but the d'ischarge" of a'just debt. :' ' "NES. - - .. 179 ": . LINES. WRITTEN IN ATLANTA, ON THE rPPROAOH OF THE ENEMY. Hark 1 heard ye not those sullen guns, That-throbbing of the putlse of war, Now. again come the thunderings Of Death's crimson battle-cor,' Onward rumbling, wilh horrid din,- Along the gory, trembling plain, Scattering curses, shrieks and g6oiis," O'er a way paved withtviitims slain. Upward surge the tides of sulphuirou' smoke, To stainAfe fields of virgin air,: LikeWthe hot breath from the vexed throat Of some volcano's seethinig'iair. * Again the cannon's lurid smile . : Is at play, with a savage gleam, O'er forest, cot and city spire,i . O'er towering mount and gliding stream. Georgians rise! you vaunting'Northman Has rqdely passed the outer gate, ' And now, his mongrel minions Pollute the proud old Empire State. / Mark his red invading footsteps- The ashes, the pall :and the tomb, And read h'Lcharacters of blood ' Your own dismalg impending , Yours, if -now, youfail to -meethim; Face to face, with 'vengig steel, - To free again your natal. shi il, - From the despot's ot '-heeLt ; In the pride o/h Southern freei Rise and smite the greedy slave; Granting to each grovelliig -ntlal n A welcome and a nameless grave. page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] i80 , MY omr. 180 MHGM. MY HOME' . Dear is my home on the river's Wild adamant shore, And the wealth of dame natures Unlimited store. Where the voiee of the water's Perpetual flow, Like a strain of sad music Floats up from below And the clouds as they hovet In fathomless space, With a wing overshadows The mountainous place. Where the note of the sea-bird' Prophetical cry, - ike a spirit'of e il : Inhabits the sky; . And the boom of the billow's Tempestuous surge, , . Rolls away from the cliffs Like a;fuaeral dirge. Tillthe earth' nd the heavens Seem fraught wjh a charm, That awakesiaeach bosm A'blissful alarm, ; . O',twas there that ,my chidhoodrd's Bright hours went by; t is athere woaI odlige, And thtre I would .die; That-the harp-strings:of nature's Harmimaios band, May my lone gra ve e ircle BWihreiitit;-grpad, 'TO W. .HARIS. * ; . ... . . TO W. F. -HARRIS, ' My friend, I heard you Wishing -That you could wield a pen; To win the admiration - Of frail and fickle men , A poets soul you'd covet, . - That you might catch the straia, 'Which -wafed downfrom'ags, Will like a. golden chaiht, Still pave its way with striligiht, cThroghl centuries .yet to come.; And light a liing halo -Around the poet's tomb. / # '0, envy not the being, Who like1yourself is fr ail, * Tet may possess the pbwer To lift the mystic veil Where move-the Secret woriings uf every throbbing heart, And awakleto hapy ntimbers The minstre's magic t * ;For linked 'with. I ite pleasure, Which poets glean from life, Comes a train of weary hours, With pain, and qrrow rifi . Then grieve not to be fa;mos, The gift may ne'er descend; But you mayy-et be ddti ed To some mrore g eUd. A false friend is lieas hadow aon a dial; it appe in fair weather, but vanishes -as: sooa asa lo approaches. V , page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] ' 1&2 TO MY BROTHERS IN THE ARMY. TO MY BROTHERS IN THE ARMY. Two brothers in the army, Contending for the right, O may the angels guard them This cheerless wint'ry night. Long weary mouths have vanished, Since with a tear-dimmed eye. They left us for the army, And breathed a last good-bye. How 'wildly in By dreaming Has rung the battle-cry, When troops were onward rushing To- conquer or to die; And there among the foremost, From morn till set of sun, Was Charlie in the saddle, And' Amos by his gun, - And again, I've seen them sleeping, Tentless, on the frozen ground, Or pacing in the forest The picket's lonely round, Until the starry clock-work Its silent course had run, ThenCharlie'smi the saddle, AEnd brther's by his gun. They've fought, and toiled, and suffered, -Like vetran men of yoreL In battling with the billows, To gain the promised shore. Fresh laurels Fame is twining, For deeds of valor Idone. By Charlie in the saddle, And Amos by his gun, MY TRtEASURES. A mother's choicest blessing Will welcome home again, Her gallant sons who've acted So well the part ol men; And hist'ry will exalt them, For battles fought and-won, By Charlie in the saddle, And Amos by his gun. * e. MY TREASURE3S. In a lonely, silent chirch-yard, Where the river's sullen roar Floats away in mourhfnl echoes, Up and down the pebbly shore; Where the'ivy-mantled statue With its gleaming,.suowy crest Throws a wierd and ghostly shadow O'er the cold and'pulseless breast; 'Where the Court of Death is pending, And around his gloomy throne, Are stored the seeds! of paat decay, By his swift-winged'angels sown. There, I've oft in sadness wandered, Down those lonely, silent ways, Wholly lost in solemn musing, Through those dreamy autumn days, Till, beside two humble tombstones have knelt in fervent prayer, And have paid a tearful. tribute To my treasures hidden there. One by one the faded leaflets Circled round eac .voicele s home- Each a sad, impress ve warning' Of life's autumn days to come.. . f page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 TEL:L. MEE1 W19GIDI WINDS Soo= our hope3 and joys *il wither-- Dust to dhst, niout be pour doom ; Soon w'l pass tht dread tribunal, And-,belamf g Ahe-tobg TELL ME YE WINGED WIND& Tell'me, ye wingedwinds, 'T hat roundmy pathway roar, Do you not know some spot- Whlere m0otals vWeep no more F S&me lone and pleasant'dell, Some valley in the West,: - W here, free from toil and pain, T ewery. sAol may rest? The loud wind softened to a whisper low, And sighed for pity as it answered "No V!. Tell me, thou mighty deep; ' Whose -bat ws 'round me play, Know's t thouso'sme 'fivored spot,. Some island fr'away, Where weary inen may fn4. The bliss for w'wich he sighs, Where sor'row never lives And'friendshig never dies?' The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, Stopped'for a while, and sighed to 'answer, "Not 1 Anfthou, serenest moon, That with such holy, face, Haost thouzot saeeni some spot Maost -10'o w /atd.:iar /hy, t- Where misermle ana; e Lisght findo wahappie I Sot 'Behind a cloud the moon ithdrew in woe,. -nd a voice sweet, but sad, responded, ' No V. AN OLD MAN WHO SHOT SIXT PERESONS. 18l Tell me, my secret soul; O, tell me, Hope and :aith, ' * Is there no resting-place Fromsorrow, sin and death? Is there no happy spot. Where mortals may'be be ssed; Wheregrief' may find a balm, And weariness a rest - Faith, Hope and Love-best boons to. (mortals given, Waved their bright wings, and wispered, "Yes, in Hea, en AN OLD MAN WHO HAS SHOT SIXTY PERSONS.- At one point on the Tennessee river there is a plac that has become a terror ito steamboat men, and i passing it they always finrd some place to' seem themselves till-.the boat passes. At this point a old man, sixty odd years -of tge, has made his hear quarters a long time, and the peculiar "crack ofh gun?' is familiar to river-men, and sends a thrill terror wherever it is heard. He has. a long heav' barreled gin, originally a squirrel rifle, which h: been bored out three different times, until now tl largest thumb can easily be turned in the muzzl and the aim of the old man is one' of deadly ce taintv. The sentinel is always faithfully upon b watch, and his retreat has so far: baffled all to c-te him, from the fact that he is i:ssurroundead:wil dense swamps and deep ravines.'. Well informn river men estimate that this old man' has killed this way not less than sixty persons; and yet he'p forms his work with as much earneestess and ig as when he first commenced. [Seleced . page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 18 1AJP OB -GOE2ERSAL ..PATRICT E--R tLEB19TEY{E K MAJ. GEN. PATRICK R. CLEBURNE. "Cleburne is dead," and as we hear the words repeated, our eyes fill as .we -look back over the associations that cluster around his name, and his noble heroism in the defense of his adopted land. ' TTere was no officer in the army more universally beloved for his gallartry and gentle bearing than he; and his losqa will be deeply felt, not only by those with whomn he has been so long associated, but by the whole country, for his name and fame was as y broad as our own sunny land. Att thhe beginning of the war he was enga'ged in the practice of law in 'Helena, Arkansas, where he located when he emigrated from Erin's Green Isle; and when- the tocsin of war sounded, he was the first to offer his services as a private in the Helena Rifles, -but his well known merits and qualifications were' recognized, and he was selected to command the company; and when the IFifteenth Arkansas Regi- ment was foired at Mound City, he was unanimously elected 'Colonel, and at Shiloh amid the storm of ? shot and shiell, he won his wreath and the lasting friendship of Gen Hardee, who saw and recognized his merits, and has ever since remained his steadfast friend. ' Well do we rememer.-his 'words when the wily Joe Hooker atteimpted to seize Dug Gap near Daltonr last Spring. "Tell OIeburne to go, to go himself; oI FRAN iLINIS TOAST. . I he must be there," and the wild shout of his. nol Division, as he rode like Sidney idown the lines, ai took 'his place at their head; and pointed with i gleaming sword to the spot where ' (Cerro Gorda Williams was struggling against the hostsi and I clear cry of ' Forward men' But he is dead I No more will his form be se where the battle rages thickest, calm and grand his own proud disregard of the leaden rain and ii hail that fell around him, yet ever mindful of the he commanded. But in after years his grave will visited by those for whom he poured out his life-bl that they might be free .- Weep for the hero that is n& more, save in rich- memories of the past, but whose fame. sl endure wherever the deeds that ennoble men i great cause, are spoken, -and whose name will perpetuated as a synonym of all that is great ; good. - [Select ',. - - FRANKLIN'S TOAST.-Long after Washingt victories over the French and English had made name familiar over all Europe, Dr.: Franklin chap to dine with. the English,^'and French embassad when the following toasts were drunk : By the British embassador--"England ; the , whose beams enlighten and fructify the remotesti ners of the earth." - The' French embassador, gloingwith inati( pride, drank-France: the moon, whose mild, at- cheering rays are the delight of nati6ns"' : ! page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 188 , '. FEMALE. SOLDIER - Dr. Franklin then rose, and with his usual digni, - fied simplicity, said "George Washington: the Joshua, ho commanded the sun and moon to stand still and they obeyed him,". FEMALE SOLDIERS. The Central cars on Friday night, brought down to Richmond, girls named Mary Bell and Mollie Bell, who was dressed in soldier clothes. They. claim to be co'in' and state. that before the war they live their uncle in south-western Virginia; but aboutwo -years -since, he left them and went over to the Yankees. They then attired themselves in: male apparel, and were admitted into a cavalry company:attached to the Confederate service. A few months after their enlistmebnt, they encountered a force of Yankees, were defeated and captured with the'rest of the company; but subsequently, General John H. Morgan with reinforcements, overtook the Yankees who had thepn inr charge, causing such a precipitate retreat that they were comp lied to aban- don their prisners.: After three months service in the -cavalry,r they joined the Thirty-sixth Virginia Infantry,iand have been with it up to the present time. On one occasion Mollie killed three Yankees while on picket, and on her return to the brigade, was promoted for gallantry to' a corporalcy. The corporal has. missed but one battle,-that of Cedar ( J FEMALE SOLDIERS. 18. 8 Creek--she having been sent off on duty at the:time, Once she wl slightly woundedin the arm by a piec of shell. From the time these girls entered the service, 'I to the. fight which took place between Early and Sheridan on the .19th instant, the secret of their se. was only known to the Captain of the company t which they belonged. At this battle he was taker prisoner, and they findifig it necessary-to have some protector, confided their secret to the Lieutenan commanding the company; but he did not keep i :two days before he reported it to Gpneral Earl' himself, who ordered them to be taken to Richmond In the..interview with the General which ensied4i] consequence of the information -imparted to him b: said Lieutenant; Mollie stated that there'were -si other females in disguise in the army but' sh refused to tell who or where they wgre. I These girls were kn own in the armny by: the: name of Tom Parker and Bob Morgan; and were acknos ledged by all the soldiers with whom they wer associated, to be valiant soldiers having never bee known to straggle or shirk, duty.; As they appeared in the chief-of-police office o Friday night, there was nothing in their jppearanc to eexccite suspicion that they were other than whh they appeared to. be, Confederate soldiers.- They- a modest in demeanor, -and were always knownr quiei and orderly members of their command. . lie, alias Bob Morgan, did most of the :talkigan displayed evident marks of educlation -and efija * \ - ' ' k page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 GATEWOOD, THE REGULLATOR. ment; Mary, alias Tom Parket, was taciturn and moody, but yet not altogetheruninteresing. Mollie says that Tom, as she called her cousin, was never intgnded to be a soldier; she is too modest and back- ward. They were'both committed to Castle Thunder to await further. arrangements for their welfare. -". ' Selected. GATEWOOD, THE REGULATOR. The recital of deeds of the loyal men and the tories of this section reminds one forcibly of the legends of the partisan warfare of the Carolinas in the old rev- olution. The Francis Marion, the great regulator, of this mountain region; is a man by the name of Gatewood. To him the citizens declare they owe the safety of their lives and property. He is. called Captain, though he is not regularly commissioned in ourarmy, nor are his men regularly enlisted. His sphere of operations extends from eighty to one hundred miles between the Coosa and Lookout Mountain. He has been operating here ever since our army fell back last Spring. His band consists of sixty ,or seventy men tried and true. He will admit no others He is a terror to Yankee tories, and all evil-doers alike. His headquarters are at Gaylesvible. A band 'of Texan. -deserters, known as Colbert's men, are his most deadly foes. McLemore's cove is the strong * ' , % . - .o -GATEWOOD, THE REGULATOR. 191 hold of another large band. The scoundrels make raids upon the loyal, taking from them their cattle and horses, and every article of food, 'destroy their 'clothing and beds, sometimes applying the torch to their houses. In short, they commit every conceiv- able act of the most horrid vandalism. The following will serve as an instance of their villainy, and of female heroism. Not long since five of Colbert's men went tothe house of an old gen- tleman by the name of Bernard. His wife and three grown daughters were with him. They told him to show them where his horses were concealed, or they would -kill him. His wife told them they: should neither have his horses nor kill him, and if they laid their hands on them it would be at the peril of theii lives. Suiting the, action to the word, she drew s repeater, two of the daughters seized a shot gun each, and one a rifle, which they had provided for such an emergency-and itis said they are good shots. They leveled them, and the villains quailed. Still they isaid he must go with- them. But she told them he 'should not go .with them; and$ if they tried to force him away, they were dead men. Without attempt ingto use force, they left.* The brave women savec the old man and his horses.. . ' - These raids sometimes occur two or three times , week. When Gatewood knows of their coming, hi sends his men to forewarn the people, that theyr ma secure their property the best way they can. -If hi hear& of a band of sixty, he wilt not,- hesitate to at tack them if he has but twenty, and he rrely fail - - . . . page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] ]2. . GATEWOOD, THE REGULATOR. to.:rut. them. He is a desperate fighter. Out 'of thirty two .Yankees, sent against Mhim at Lafayette just" before: our approach, he killed, wounded and captured eightee hen he captures tories-who. areno better than highway: robbers-he metes out summary justice tothem. They and the Yankees havre sormn never to take hi aWive N Within the last three weeks, .he succeeded in capturing nine- teen. He hung every one of them betveen Lafayette and Robk Spring Church, along the road about three hundred yards apart. Just before our, arrival, he daught a most notorious scatmp named John Burton, lHe hung him, stating thatihe would hang any man, womnan .or child-in the same place, who cut the-body down.. It-was still. hanging near Lafayette when we passed. It detracts much fromn Cpt. Gatewood's character that :he himself is a deserter from our cavalry. But in laving hiis :commaqd, he seems to have been actu- ated :by motives which induce few men to do so, viz: the desire to be near the .enemy and free to satisfy his revenge. .I am told that when .Wheeler passed through this chuntry to join us, he had this guerrilla' chitef arrested; but released him on account of a peti tion of th. citizens representing the great service he had:done t-iem, and 'that he- told Gen. Wheeler that' the .Ya nkes had brutally outraged arid killed a sister of hi, aid -he had sworn to bushwhack them aslong as it lived-that they had sworn never to take him alivey aind he. must fightthem on equal erms Thirst for- veng6ance has made him what he is.- He is said OOTPERD^S. . * 9 N. , to be a-Tennesseean. These: fct. have been given me by trustworthIr citizens .of the egioa tIthrougl which he operates. - Selected: made by. a shoeless, sto6kingless little foot. I did -not know, had never seen its Owner; yett that simp omark in the cold snow told a touching story. Ah it spoke -of a comfortless home, whose threshold the sunlight of, joy never crossed; of lonely hours and bitter tears:; of ingaoow eohilhIlhoed unecared for and unloved; of a joyless past, a dark present and- a dreary and blightedf ture . A.-dark picture fadio had painted ; and after ailit was only a footprint; yet its langUige cou id not pbe Piaiken. And tater are other footprin'ts too ,Iat, speak quite p, lsaily ". Footprints of, Anges.: - Yes, -whensom & love . is gone, when, the; hatds are fo:ll e and the eareye closed,- and our treasure has.:fadcedifrron ;our sight- then .how memory clisng toeiaci:loving word aen gentle; deed& they, ar reiouim!foo tip te :1t earth, and oh how dea: they a l-W^ !peak o^f loved ones as in heajve.; yet .'t1at. iels -u. thi is their :footprints-r-those- arks oneeir life- pa1s traced heavenward, F-ootprintsl We are jil^ia i48 . all page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] them oI tihe sh^ --f time. The aged and weary one *i';qiieily sitksito rest leaves, behindhim the traces. oflip1.grimage, and the smallest Ohild never lays its little head beneath the sod until it has left its foot- 'print. Yes, we are all leaving them, so deeply graven too, that the waves of oblivion can never quite oblit- erate them. iTead carefully; then, oh traveller on life's journey I Let your footprints be found in the narrow path, so that to those, who shall come after you thei may beguiding footprints:. : otprints tiat perhaps another aSing o'eriife:'s solemnii main, A' forlbtr ad hipwreckfed brother, Seeing, fiatf takeheart again, ' . . . .... .' . [Selected. I: . U i;'T. tE. XAG Sti, S-0t, a. O . A. timt4 A AL long-timeaig-i ai1imtiate friend wasthreatened -itht:lindxaitae -Otp horror- of aeh a misfortune, h6the03a:oi sofat. th a sagio. ndi, -wasw ever present - - cast it : vgo: f 1 .t- f WhistfsU anxi-ously await- irgid : tiItS Atuif:ni:a g: in-te-se 'agony o mimnd - t W ]p'y;.the **llowingetnenes. were wrirtten. Its hfat wiliag;'t ringi;:'ti:emebory like- weird echo m f the-3 fit Wori; *;.' * T64 'liik a 6psee6e -shuts out- he beateoius i ght o, and iootn S-id. :st-rs, and& every, lovely ":thii. T:heb rigla eyed:ris, whose heaven pained \ " ' ' ' BLIND' SS. - ' t ' , T bow shines in the rain .drops and glitters in;ithe dee hued aone that .spans -the: tearful ;'clowu, .ad :-aill 4h glorious views which Sparkle in the eye likf ia monds and priceless gems, nd. vi'sins 'of beatFt divinity and heaven, are lost to me. - Oh! iglorious light Thoa pristinoe work of thi Almighty mind; now dear o -me, because the woric is dark, and light -only remains a dream wthin. me My soul revels in' sensuous felicity, whete the per fumed, voiceless eloquence of delicious flowers and the fluttering leaf, and the mute mooh, and the laugh ingstars, arie telling their tales of. Ipve and ;speakiqn to the heart a gloriousromance, that enchants like the spell of'beauty and 'the thrall of iheaven's choicesi loves and sweetest truths. ' How exquisitely charming is tias bright and glo: rious iiiner world.- I sit and listen to tohe -laughin music in my own heart, whilst this more thai heavet opens up the dearest beautits of earth and imagina tion before my mental gaze. The wind harp and its thousand echoes of the pines' moaning chords sigh in unisonwith saddenini memories. Now the deep rolling bursts-of irhetr a symphonies anon, the sweet monot ons .an d 'iomie of long forgotten songs, again. the-strains are soft and on their downy wings childhood-:: sorptsdow3 the mystic aisles and through the enchanting vista which .were then so greeni so varied, so eolredi;tt1 beautiful. But' with that wailii note, wehihlokt away solemnly as a death-kntell, :there:j. coroes4lieei 4 b . , *N page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] "6 - A THRILLINGQ RENCONTR. -unutterable despair. I shudder with horror that: mantAe* the heart like a colIdshroud.. :O-h. od: I see but from-the. dreary. tomb. Oh t how I force-away the sad view of the truth, yet it. comes, unbidden comes, dark and despairing, full of. midnight gloon. and chaos. ' -Pity, oh pity me. I7n Bind . blind L A THRILLING RENCONTRE. ' . , , '. . CAPT. SPEKE'S ADVENTURE WITH A BOA CONSTRICTOR * *' Att the earliest possible moment after our camp had been pitched, a hunt was set afoot, Captain Grant, myself and some attendants, were son .making our way to- "-the pathh"Theie were- ' no animals; there when we arrived, except a few hip- otami, anid we were, therefore, obliged to await the-. coming of some more palatable game. Our patience, hIowever, ,wa severely tasked ; and after a long delay we Wtereab--ut to " bag" a hipotamus when one of our "attenants, perched in a tree about :a half mile disMant, began- waving his? blanket. This was a sig- nl that gaWme was approaching We. immediately drew- into cover, and awaited the coming of the la r . ; - . * * .. *. - * .*, . *W e were not'delayed long,: for presently a long eolmfof animals, from the elephant to:the hoo-doo, appeared-it viewi trotting at a good pace to the river. 'Their flanks were soon presented to us, and each' /-* ' , -' A TIRILLING :REITONTRE. 'O.- selecting his object, fired. Mcoll- shot afineyot buffalo 'ow, while Captain Gant was equally . cessful with a hoo-doo; and several spears cast- ) our attendants, stopped the career of one or two I ,ferent animals of the herd. - At this juncture, however,( occurred -an epe- adventurre that finished. our sport, at least foM. day. I had sprung forward, iminediately afterIfit in order to obtain a fair shot at a huge elephant tl I wanted to shoot on aicount of :his immense tus: I got the desired aim, and pulled the trigger of i second barrel. At the; moment of my doing so a:w cry of alarm, uttered by one:of the blaeis, called . attention. Glancing round, my eye chanced to ran up into the foliage of the tree beneath .which OB Grant and myself had lain for several houtrs p vious. My feelings may possib-y be -imaginenda beheld an-enormous boa constrietor) whose hided head and neck projected, some -distance into vie showed- that he- w':abwul .to-/make a fatal srin His direction was -certainly toward me;: and, as 'flashed -from his position like A thunderbolt, -ga myself up, for ere aid could reachr me, fold aft:fo of the monster wouild-havi eiushedmiy strong fra into a quivering pulp, 3.I' fell, s rmingly cghft: i whirlwind of dust, and a strang; inadesiBil b es;e e9sued.' In the midst- of tis' terrible ;i trife. I suiddpe: came conscious of a second victim, -and; e:ve:t f the, time that -lad- elapsed sincetje-n, I still!eo: with what vividness the thought shot ar'ros mnytmi Q- - page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 1-98 - A- IRILING --R NO2N TE1 that the :second ;viCtia M as ajktaink Grant, my noble :cmpanion - At last,after being thus'whiidrl about for several seo i ns, eacl second seemed to be inter. minable,there ensueda lull, a stillness of death, and I opened my eyes, expecting to look upon those unexplored landscapes whieh 'are seen only in the country beyond thi tomb.. Instead of that I saw Captain Grant levelling his rifle towards me, while standing beside and behind him, were. the blacks, in every conceivable attitude of the most intense sus- In a moment I comprehended all. The huge ser- pent had struck a youing buffalo cow,. between whih. and, him I had- unlukily placed myself .at the- mo- mezit of firing upot the elephant. A most singular good fortune had attended me however, for instead of being crushed into a mangled mass with -the un- fortunate coww,myf'le ftferearm had only been caught. in between'the buffalo's body and a single fold of the constrictor, the limb laid just in front of the shoul- der at the root of the neck,--and thus had a soft bed of sflh, int 4awi ih t itwa Jammed, as it were, by its immense pressure of the serpent's body, that was like iron in hardness As I saw .Grant about to shoot a- terror t-kposession ofi: te, for if he refrained, I nght possibly eaesp:,after the boa released his folds from -th iaead cow. But should he fire and strike : rpt%!l it/ oUldAin its convulsions crush or drag me', ..* ; :. ;to. : ^ *. *pisiw is' --Evenasth e ideaaom to me I beheld Grant pause. ipe appeared to comprehend all. He could see how A THRILLING REANCONtI. I was situated, that IPwas sgt I living, and that delivery depended on- the will of -the: constrieto We could see every line on each other's face, so cloi were we, and I would have shouted or spoken, . even whispered at him, hadI' dared. But the boa head was reared .within a few feet of mine, and t wink of an eyelid -would perhaps settle my doon so: I stared, stared,. like a dead man at :Grant and i the blacks . : . . . Presently the serpent began very gradually 1 relax his folds, and after reti'ghtening them sever! times as the crushed buffalo quivered, he urrwo'n one fold entirely. Then he paised. . The next ire like tland was loosed which held me prisoner; an as I felt it unclasping, my heart'stood still with hoF and fear. Perhaps, upon being freed, the benumbe arm, uncontrolled by my will, might fall upon th cushion-like bed in which I lay.. And such a misha might bring the spare fold around the neck or ches and then farewell to Nile. O, how hardly, how dei perately I struggleld to command myselfl I glance at Grant and saw him handling .his rifle anxiously I glanced at the negroes and they. were gazing, a though petrified with astohishment. I glanced at th serpent's loathsome head and saw its bright, deadl eyes watchiing for the least sign 'of life int its prey Now then, the reptile loosened its fold on my trms hair breadth,' and now, a little li, re, unri-a af a inch of space separated my arm from its mottled skin, I could have whipped out my hand, but dared nc take the risk.' . page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 2500 . A THRILLf - RENCONOTRE.. Atoms of time dragged thenselves into ages, and a minute seemed- eternity itself the second fold was removed entirely, anad the next one was easing. Should I dash away now, or wait a more favorable opportunity? I decided upon the former; and, with lightning speed I bounded away toward Grant, the crack of whose piece I heard -at the same instant. For the first time in my life I was thoroughly over- come; and sinking down, I remained in a semi-un- conscious state for several minutes. :- When I:fully recovered, Grant and the overjoyed negroes held me up, aiid pointed out the boa, .who waA still writhing- in his death agonies. I shuddered as I looked upon theeffects of his tremendous strength. For yards around where he lay, grass and bushes, and sapplings and ins, a fact everything except the more fully grown trees, twere cut clean dff, as though they had been trimmed by an immense scythe. This monster, when measured, was fifty-one feet two inches and-.arhalf in extreme length, while around the-thick- est portion of his body the girth was nearly three feet, thus proving, I believe, to be the largest serpent ever authentically heard of. . Selected. A CdifIosiY.--The enchanted mountain inTexas is an immense oval rock, rthree hundred feet high situated about eighty miles north of Bastroo. Its surface is polished, and in sunshine dazzles the be- holder at a distance of three or four miles.- Those - who ascend it haveto wear moccasins, or stockings; and, like those who went up to Mount olreb, pull off their shoes. - r . . * . A -LAMENT' IN THE NORTHERN LAND. 2 \ "AET NTHE NRT LAMENT INE NORTHE LAND. Speed swiftly Night I wild Northern ight Whose feet the arctic islands .kow, I ' - When stiffening breakers, sharp and white; Gird the complaining shores of snow. Send all thy winds to sweep the world, And howl in mountain passes far; And hang thy banners, red and cold, Against the shield of every star 1I For what have I to do with morn, Or summer's glory in the vales?' 'With the blithe ring of forest horn, Or beckoning-gleam of snowy sails? Art thou not gone, in whose blue eye The fleeting summer dawned to me? \' , " Gone like the echo of a sigh Beside the loud resounding sea I Oh, brief that time of song and flowers, That blest through thee the iNorthern land r I pine amidst its leafless bowers;, And on the bleak'and lonely strand. The forest walls the starry bloom - Which yet shall pave its shadowy floor, But' down my spirit's aisles of gloom Thy love shall blossom never more. , And never more shall battled pines Their solemn triumph sound for me; Nor morning fringe the mountain lines,. Nor sunset flush the heary sea, But night and winter fillthe sky,. And load with frost-the shiverming air Till every blast that hurries by Chimestwilder with my own despair..' Theealden twilight, coldInd long,. . If slowly settlingo'er the wave-; ,r No wanderlng blast awakes a song. \ X In nakedbows above thy grave. . Th frozen air is still and dark, ^ The numb earth lies in icy rest And all is dead, save this one sp rk 1 , Of burning grief within my breastL page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 21 .- ' -7IUI8 WIT TZQEA jXa i -: Life's darkened orb shall wheel no more ys pi*i w m;^ ass aintry ore F - - .. - With not a star to light its track. 7 - Speed swifter MNight I thy gloom and frost Ar- larM^ t ws id Ryae kerer^s This last ijd 0-qutien or .thelo-st Ip o t*:.ty edie g -aar,. ,' .\ 5 selected. FLIRTINI'WlTH TIE GALSJ * Some write in hopes of glory, Others at Ad tyS oall Some wite for ,ileamurel jy, ' Andsonme:don; t wf te a all, Someiveloe.$toa sirting Their Katies a'i-tiefir Sals, But graciousJ, no'htt'so plesant As flirting with the gals. * JHow-c I .xarmig-, how Delightftu, W . hien you'witatoei a Just to bv a aligt itflirtatti I . It's really very fine; i , Thereg noipg gis mpre leasure,' - As anyiferkow. ows, And, paha I its twie a pleasant. As flirting with the beaux. So thinks a handsome fellow; He' curlshis .moustache nice, Steps iii amongst thel ladies. And charim thehidi a trice. 'With noble iar .ani apect 4 ' .. Aiid very rich attire - - ' 4They tqke him for some nobleman Or .tealthy 'co:unty squire. - He whosa 4 hWltiAl boqette And deepi-ilovfe, he fall, Escorts her to the Biper,/ - . And sees er- to The balls.- When she thitaks ita tnetlo pop it,- -He tells lij Ua d 11i- i-,Olt re Why, Mislymonyfirting, Ther* is ho 1rmtin that. I :*f -: -F ' . . E3gli'-- - . ' Next domes:a dashist w ido, . With ieither wealithner br:ai ;.. S he thinkisiot. Qf thielfellow: ' . . But th: goldhyMi she wili: . He rins her, unspetiing; - d j if her love she tells, ]iB ls he- very plaini- :. ;. H je's jusi a;-ffirtg wIthr thei gai - a Sxttc tyltsh'gooiWti bothg9- With Madam : tohet 'ame- ,Comes up so very charming, And thinks to win-ttie game. He woos her andhe wins her And deep in love he falls, When ahi .alasl ahe firdsthe s js t flirting with the gals. Other chaps may court their Pollys, 'Their Mollys, and their Sals, But as for met:Id'r-atahbr go. A flirting with the gals; '. ' - -I appeal to you, .kitLreader, . Surely every readerSrtow9, .: Don't yoaiuthink it suitse:as pleSant, As'fliirtig; with-tihOe eau' . Seecte FROM , Tak GERMAD t YfL^ * '- , . ,':;- .5 . # . . 1 - , *A child sleeps under the rose-bush fair, The- buds swell out irith fiMayair. Seetly it rests, a4.: m' dram, w-ng flie To play with the. agelsof ,:aadts se -: .\ And the ysearSgideab. . . A maiden stands by&therosebushri., . mThed dewy^ loiye ier ari i She presses her had to ',htiobbiil rast, . With love's first wonderfuliapture blest,- And the yearb glide by. D ' *' .*. , , '. - . . . page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] 204' WE HAVE NO WILLIE NOW. , .. ' , - A mother kneels by the rose-bush fair, Soft sigh the leaves in the evening air; Sorrowing thoughts, of the past arise, And tears of anguish bedim her eyes- And the years glide by. N1aked and alone stands the rose-bush fair, Whirled are the-leaves in the Autumn air;, Withered and dead they fall on the ground, And silently.-cover the new-made mound- And the years glide by. SelectedS WE HAVE NO WILLIE NOW. I: hear the soft wind sighing Through every bush and tree, Where now dear Willie's lying, Away from love and me. . Tears from my eyes are starting, And sorrow shades my brow, Oh, weary was our parting, We have no Willie now. I see the pale moon shining On Willie's white head-stone; The rose-bush 'romnd it 'twining, Is here like me-alone. And just like me are weeping Those dew-drops from the bough; So long has he been weeping- We have no Willie now ' My heart is ever lonely, My life is drear and sad, '- ' 'Twas his dear farewell only That made my spirit glad. Trom morning until even, Care rests upon my-brow; He's gone-he's gone from me to heayen-- :We have no Willie now I
