VOL. 48. AMERICAN VOLUNTEER. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING BY JOHN It. BRATTON. TER MS Subsciption.-t-Obo Dollar and Fifty Cents/ paid t» advance: Two Dollars, if paid within the year? fend Two Dollars and Fifty Gouts, if not paid within tho year. These terms will bo. rigidly adhered to In every instance. No subscription discontinued until all arrearages aro paid unless at the option, of the Editor. • . Advertisements— Accompanied by the cash, and not exceeding one square, will bo inserted three times for One Dollar, and twenty-five cents for each Additional insertion. Those of a greater length .in proportion. Job-Printing— Snob ns Hand-bills, Posting-bills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, «tc. <tc.> executed with accuracy and at the shortest notice. |Wcal. my heart-is with thee. "When the breeze with a whisper Steals soft through the grove, ' : A awcefc.earnost lispcr. Of music and love, ' ‘When its gentle caressihgs . - Away charm each Sigh, ■ And'Still dews, like blessings,' ' .Descend from .the sky, r When a deep spell is lying ■On hill. Vale, and lea, ■ My warm heart is flying. Sweet spirit, to thee. ■ .■When* stars like sky-blossoms. 1 Above seem to blow, And waves like young bosoms ■. Are swelling below, ■ ■When the voice of the river ‘ .Floats mournfully past, And the forost's low shiver' ■ Is borne on the blast, "When‘wild tones are swelling. ■ From earth, air,' and'sea, ■ * ■My warm heart iff dwelling, Sweet spirit, with thee.' When the night clouds are riding, Dike ghosts, oh the galo, And the young moon is gliding Sweet, lonely, and pale, When.the ocean is sobbing In ceaseless unrest, And its great heart is throbbing ’ All wild in its breast, “When the.strong wind is rostling . With billow and tree, My warm heart is nestling, Sweet spirit, with thee. When in slumber thy fancies •. In loveliness gleam, . ■ And a thousand romances Are bright in thy dream, When visions.of brightness Like young angels start In beautiful lightness All* Wild from thy heart, When thy calm sleep is giving Thy dream-wings to' thee,' Oh say art thou living, Sweet spirit," with mo ? A LYRIC. HoW many thonghts I give, thee? r Come.bithor on the grass, ' '' And if thou’ll count,unfailing • The.green blades as.wo pnssj. Or the loaves that sight and tremble To the sweet wind of the West, Or tbo flpples of tbp river, . Or tbo sunbeams on its breast, I'll count the thoughts Igivo.tlioo/ My beautiful, my best/ • How many joys I owe thee, Come sit where seas run high,« And epunt tbo hoaviug billows , That break on the shore and die—* Or the grains of sand they fondle,. When tho storms are overblown; . Or tho pearls in tho doop sea caverns, Or tho stars in tho’milkey zone,. And I'll count tho joys I owe theo,. My beautiful, my own. Htollaiwous. MY HUSBAND’S CHILD. A SECOND’WIFE’S STOEY. T had a little daughter, And she was given to Ine To lead mo gently backward, To the Heavenly Father’s knee. I Had married a widower. How many times I'hod wondered, blamed, laughed at such mar riages. How many times said that I would remain single, if Fate so pleased, to the end °f the chapter, but never, never marry one whose first love had been given to another— who offered me the ashes of a heart. A sec ond hand garment, I had said, tvas bad enough; still, were it a choice between that and freez ing one might wear it;' butnot a second-hand husband. Better freeze than warm one’s hew ing at such a fire. I had said all this, and yet,l had wedded Hiram Woodbury. When I first met him, however, I did not know that bo had ever been married. • Our acquaintance came about oddly enough. I was staying with ray old schoolmate, Eliza-: both Simms, now Mrs. Dr. Honshaw. I had been there, for a weejc, enjoying myself heart ily. It was a pleasant change from the board ing house in the city, where I lived, in three rooms and a band-box, with my guardian and bis wife, to Lizzie’s .pleasant and spacious country house, with the wide, handsomely laid out grounds around it, and tho free range of wood and. hill m the back ground. I had thought, at first, that I should presently weary ol the monotony, but each day of tho seven I bad grown, more and more charmed, until I bad begapto .believe myself in love with na ture. “ [ like it,” I said to Lizzie, throwing my self down, after a long morning’s ramble, in the easy chair in her sitting room. She looked at me fondly, with her kind blue eyes. “I know you would like it. Look at your self in the glass, Agatha Raymond. See that strong, well rounded form, those great, black, earnest eyes—the forehead with more brains than beauty —;the dark face with the crimson blbodglowing through its olive! Does itlook to you like the face and form of one to bo con tented with confinement, and sloth, and fash ion?” Ilailghed. ■ “I never had the means to ho fashionable, Lizzie. ■ My poor five hundred a year has to find mo food and shelter, besides garments Even if 1 had it all to spend in personal adorn ment, I could only stand in the outer vestibule of the temple of fashion.” “If you had five thousand a year,-instead of five hundred, fashion and frivolity would never fill your heart. It is a good," honest, true heart; though it is proud and wayward'; I know it well. I catrsee {list the kind of fu ture you ought to have. You should'marry a man who is a worker, a hold, strong worker in the strife of lifp—oho whom you could bo proud of and look up to- I —one whom you could silently strengthen and help. You would Bo “..T®.® 1 thcn - Failing such a husband, you S m havo nm ko a career for yourself. »omo May the world must ho better for your peace’ ,m ° r y ° Ur I,cnrt ' vill know - 110 I I made no answer, /but hor words touched a responsive chord. I felt that she had point ed the future Which I needed j but Would it ever oomo 7 1 bad never yet seen a man whom I could lookup to and trust entirely—fearing nothing earthly so he was mine. Kind and good as Lizzies husband was, I could never have married him. I had never seen the man I could have married. It was not likely, I thought, that I should see him. If not, I must do something nlysolf. What path would open forme—what and whore? I looked listlessly from the window. A man was coming up the walk, dusty and stained with travel, carrying a heavy portmanteau—a man not handsome exactly, nor graceful exactly, but with a good face, a face expressing dignity, kindness and much power —the ability to command himself and otiiers. “Who is it?” I asked, beckoning Lizzie to the window. “No other than Hiram Woodbury, the Doc tor’s fast friend, and certainly the last man I expected to see to-day. He’s always welcome to Dick, though', and of course that makes him so to me.” I rnn up stairs to smooth my tangled hair, and fiinke my costumo a little more presen table; and when I came down, Mr. Woodbury was engaged in an animated conversation with the Doctor and Lizzie. Ho was a tall, power ful; man of thirty-five, with lightish brown hair, bold and somewhat massive features, and eyes of Saxon blue. I learned afterward that he was a remarkable mechanical genius, and had realized a handsome: fortune by some of his investments; also, that he was a zeal ous reformer, loading the van of every noble work. I had not known Mr. Woodbury four days, before ! felt in;my heart of hearts' that-here was a man whom I could entirely trust and reverence; nay, whom I could entirely love. Still X was proud, and I strove to retain my affections in my own keeping. I did not fed sure that he was interested in me, but some times there seemed a language in his eyes I dared not trust myself to interpret. By the time he had been there a fortnight, we knew each other better than we could have done in a year, had we met solely in society. It was ofi the fifteenth day after his coming, that ho told me he loved me, and asked me to he his wife. ■ We were alone, sitting under a clump of pines at the west of the house, where ho had gone to see the July sunset. We had watched the clouds silently as they changed from gold and crimson to, the softer shades of rose and azure, until theywere all gone. Then I looked up and saw his eyes were looking at me very earnestly, with a strange tenderness in their depths. As he met my glance, he spoke— “l have only known you asliort time, Agatha, but you are already dearer to me than I can say. Do you think you could ever love me well enough to be my-wifo?” “ I do,” I answered, struggling with a strange sensation of fullness at my heart, which seemed almost to choke my utterance; ’ “ God bless you, Agatha. You are what my soul needs.” Ilis words, were strong and fervent, and he gathered me close in his arms to his heart— me, an orphan since my earliest recollections, and realizing now, for the first time, what it was to be. intensely loved'by any human be ing. We did not talk much about our emo tions. I think wo both liked best to sit there, hand clasped in hand, feeling how utter was the happiness and satisfaction of each in the other's presence, At length he said— “l know that Ishallbogivinga gOodmother to my little Laurie., I should bo cruel, wore ! to forget her in njjy Joy, I could not at first divine his meaning. I looked at him inquiringly. “ Your little Laurie ?” “ Yesl <my child, my little girl, You tiiow of her existence, surely," “Nol” “I had supposed that the HcnshaWa had told you all my history. Did you not know 1 had been married? My wife,-my Laurie, died five years ago, and my Laurie is just five years old.” What could I say—l, who had said so often that I would wrong ho dead woman by taking from her, her husband’s luve? I- ootild give up Hiram Woodbury, perhaps, but I could five up my life as well. I clutched at a hope, asked— “ Did you love her; —your wife?” “Tenderly—most tenderly.” ' “And she loved you?” “With all her heart.” - “She was your first love?” • “Yes. the love of my youth. Butwhythese questions, Agatha? Are you not satisfied with the Ibvol pledge to you—a loyens strong and true as man ever gave to woman?'’ “I must be,” I whispered, in a voice whoso calmness startled me; it contrasted so strangely with the tumult of my heart. “I must be, I love you so well, Heaven help me, that I have no other choice. And yet I had thought to be the first love of tho man I married.” “ You are my love, Agatha, my dear, true love! Y r ou will be Laurie’s niother, will von not?” J Heaven made me truthful. I did not de ceive or belie myself in that hour. I an swered.honestly. “I will be Laurie’s mother, so far as seeing to all her wants and being kind to her is con cerned. I will love her if I can. If I can not, you must not blame mo.. We cannot force our hearts to love, merely because it is our duty. I was born jealous, and it would, be hard for mo to forget that you had loved Laurie’s mother before you loved mo, per haps better than you ever could love me.” Ho looked at mo sadly, yet trustingly still. . I believe you are belter than your own es timate, Agatha. At any rate, whatever' you i are, I love you.” It was with siifli an understanding as this, that wo were married, but my wedding day was not as happy as my.girlish hopes had al ways pictured it. A phantom seemed con stantly at my side—Hiram’s first wife. She came between his lips and mine, and made his fondest kisses seem cold. “ How did she look ? I wish I could know.” I asked him this question, ns wo eat alone together on our wedding nin-lit. Had he boon thinking oflior, too. lie un derstood me at once. lie opened his trunk, and took from it a miniature painted on ivory, and placed it in my hand. Oh, how lovely she was—just the being to bo cherished in a man’s inmost heart; idealized, wrapped around with love’s idolatry. Sho looked like one to die young, with that clear, transparent skin, the brow so white, and the vivid rose bloom in the cheeks. The eyes wore large and blue, wdlv an innocent,, appealing, unworldly look, and the hair, m the picture; was dusky gold. How could ho ever love me, with dark Paw nee face, and irregular features lifter that? 1 '“rrr m 410 ( l u °Btion; I could not help it. Ido love youi denr; is-not that enough ? I lovo you- as tenderly as any wonuui’s'beart cap ,ask. I was silent on tie subject afterward, for very shame, but the demon of jealousy made his liur «> my heart, and I am *nfruid his “OCR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT, RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.” wicked eyes looked out of rainb' now and then. For five weeks wo wore traveling together, and this our honeymoon was a happy one. For the most part my jealousy slumbered, for thdrS wSs nothing to arouse it. Some times I tormented myself with the-fear that there might have been some charm in the earlier days of my husband's first msrriago, which was wanting now. But his joy was so evident, ins tenderness so constant, that' I had little opportunity for such gloomy thoughts. After- our bridal night until the day before wo were to go home for tho first time, I had not alluded again to his first wife othis child. It was while I was packing my trunk preparr atory to an early start tho next morning, and he was talking to mo of my new home, that I lo.ked up and asked “Where is little Laurie? How has she passed the time while we were getting ac quainted, and those -weeks since our mar riage?” I suppose ho interpreted the question ns a Sign of an awakening interest in his child, for he bent over me and kissed mo before he an swered. ' . “Thank you, Agatha. lam glad that you think; of Laurie sometimes. She has been spending the summer, so far. at my sister's, blit she will be there to welcome us to-mor row. I have taken care that she should bo taught to love her new mamma." It was a beautiful home on the east bank of tho Hudson, to which we went the next day. A handsome carriage met us at the boat landing, and tb,a drive wound from the river along the ascent of a wooded hill, every moment revealing new glimpses of beauty. A short turn brought us in sight of a stately stone house, “With the battlements high in the rush of !bc air',-, .. .. Ami the turrets thereon.” ,- I had. not been prepared for so splendid a sight. It was a perfect architectural inspira tion. The eminence on which it stood com manded a fine, view of the river, flashing in the sunlight. The rocks, left as Nature had hewn them out, were gay with climbing vinos,- and the air was full of the odorous breath of sweet-scented flowers. “I never saw anything half so beautiful,” I whispered ecstatically to Hiram, who saten joying my surprise., . As the carriage stopped, a little girl ran out upon the piazza. I think I should have known her any where; from her likeness to her mother’s picture. She had tho same inno cent, appealing blue eyes, the same trans parent skin, the same features; only the gold of the hair.was lighter and sunnier than the picture. It lay about the child’s head in light rings, such as you have seen in paintings of cherubs. My husband stepped from tho car riage, and only paused to hand me out be fore the little creature was clasped in. I his arms. “And ip it that new mamma?" I hoard her ask, as he put her down. ■He nodded. “ May I. kiss her ?” “Surely." She came up to' me, (i little timidly. I bent over her; and received her caress passively, but the kiss I gave her was a very cold one. Selfish heart that ! was,*l could not love her, for she was her mother’s child—a daily reminder, so I felt, to her father, of my dead rival. I should blush to describe all tho incidents of thb year which followed. How patiently the poor little motherless girl—motherless still, though I had taken her mother’s name and place—strove to propitiate and please me. How cold I was to her. I neglected none of her bodily needs, but to the little heart which asked me for bread ! gave only a stone. Not once, in all thoso twelve months, did I gather her into my arms and kiss her; not once did I bestow on her any voluntary caress. I won der I did not soften to her, for I was myself expecting to give welcome to a. little child, who might bo left motherless as she had been. Perhaps this only hardened me the more. If my child were so left, I questioned, would its father love it half as well as ho loved Laurie? She id his idol, 1 said bitterly, to myself—his idol, as her mother was before' her; and I, who give him in spite of myself such Absorb ing love', hold only a second place in his heart. - Looking hack to those days, I really wonder that ,hp loved ine at all. I had dis appointed him so thoroughly. He had be lieved me noble and generous. Ho found me selfish and exacting. Yet Ido not believe his great,- noble' he’drt ever,- fof a moment, failed i toward mo in tenderness and patience. He herewith my waywardness, as one bears with the faults of an irresponsible child. Perhaps he never lost his faith in my regeneration. ‘ I think Laurie suffered beyond what I had supposed a child’s capacity for purely mental suffering. The disappointment to her was most cruel. She had longed all her little life for a mother’to love her as she had seen other children loved.. For many weeks before I came she hod been told that sho was to have what she most craved—a now mamma, all to herself. She had found in mo less affection than she would have received from a gov erness or a house-keeper. I knew all this. I had never been deliberately cruel before, but I was now. All Laurie’s gay vivacity was gone. She seemed all tho time fearful of dis pleasing mo. Sho moved and spoke in a slow, quiet way, that I could see it was exquisitely painful to her father to behold. Ido not know how it'was that his love for me was not utterly quenched, his patience all worn out. Perhaps, 1 he thought that I was not well, and that the 1 sweet new comer, for whom we hoped, would heal my nature of its pride and pain and pas- ■ sion. ; At , last my day of trial dawned. There wore many hours ofterrible suffering, during which my husband hovered over mo almost in despair, revealing his depth* arid the ful- I ness or his love, as I had neVbr divined it be | fore. I Jived’, btft the baby they laid on my breast was dead. No fainted thrill of life shivered those delicate limbs — do pulseflut tered in the tiny wrist—no heart-beat stirred the little still breast. The delicate bluo voined eyelids would never lift; the*lily bud mouth never open. This little, cold, dead thing was all. Where was the soul? Would they treat it tenderly in the country of spir its—that soul so young, so tender, going out into the Infinite Dark? Had God measured out to mo such measure as I had measured, and to my cry for broad given a stone? My husband could not fully share my feelings. Ho was disappointed, it is true, but in his thankfulness for my spared life, ho had’ little room-for grief.- It was not his first child—* the' loss coulU not bo to him- What it was to mo. I had boon ill three days, when, one morn ing,-my mirso went out for a few moments, leaving’ the door Open, t lay' lliere* with closed 1 eyes, my heart full of bitter, rebellious grief.- r. heard' little 1 foot-stops crossing the room softly.- I know Irfiurie had come in. ; I did not move. I wished hpr to think I was asleep. I felt that 1 could not boar to speak to her thou. She came to the bedside and i SLE, PA., THURSDAY, JUNE GARL looked at mo for a moment; then she knelt down and murmured it little prayer, whose Words pierced me like a sword: “0, Father, up in Heaven, please let dear new mamma get better,: and make her love little Laurie.” - , . I believe since that hour there may he sud den conversions, single moments which change the whole tone and current of a life. Mine was changed then.' I opened my eyes, my arms, my heart. ,i' "Como up here,:little daughter,” I whis pered, with such tenderness as she had never heard in my voice before,.- •, She crept up beside me, and I drew her to my bosom—a mother’*-loving-bosom to her forever more. ; For. a few moments I wept over her silently—l could not help it. Then I told her my sorrow. “Laurie,” I said, “God, gave me a little daughter, and, the samn hour lie gave it, He took it from me. Your mother and my baby are doth in Heaven; will you be my little girl on earth in place of-tho dead?” Her eyes brightened.?.; She cried eagerly, plaintively— “Oh, I love you, new mamma, I always did! Will you ,love, met too, and let me be your little girl?”,- "Forever, my darlingyyhom God.has given me.” .--tu ' When my husband came in, half an hour afterward, he found me-asleep, with Laurie watching me. “New mamma loves me—loves mo dearly,” she whispered joyfully; and her father's tears, which foil on her faoo 'and mine, awakened me.. : “1 ’ There was never, anjyealousy in my soul, afterward. The fullness of Hiram AVood bury’s love satisfied every longing of my heart, and Laurie was as dear to me ns him. I sometimes think the institutions of child hood-are deeper than tho.lore of the philoso phers. It was Laurie’s} childish faith that “tho Heavenly baby,*’ eh she always cdlled my lost one, had bee'ri giicri in charge to her own dead mother,-who, was nursing it ten derly, as I nursed her child below. It was a child’s coWcdity but it hri’s dwelt pleasantly in my heart; ... »; fr -- < Laurie is growing toward her sweet woman hood. 1 have never brid.ariother child, Igo alone/ sometimes, to n little grave, where'the blue violets spread their canopy, and weep above it tears which long ago lost their bitter ness, But even if its tenant could have lived to bless my arms and heart, she could hardly have, been, dearer to mo'than fhe'swO'ot daugh ter of my adoption, -I Beams. —Mostof tile frith era of the Church wore and approved pfvthe beard; .Clement of Alexandria sayStjv"Mature adorned man, like a lion, withsi beard, nathemarkofstrongth and power." Lactantius; Theodurct, St. Au gustine, and St. Oyprian,ayo.!£U eloquent in praise of this Characteristic feature) -about which may discussions were raised ini the ear ly ages of the Church, when matters of disci pline engaged much uf Ih'svaUciilion of its lea ders. To settle thrive'aiapujW, at the-fourth Council' of Cartliagej~rA;AP^262i : Can. 44—it was enacted,“ that alcleric shall not cherish his hair nor shave his heat'd." ( Clericusnec comam smiriat nec barhan radat. ) Bingham quotes an early letter, in-which it is said of one who from a layman Had-become a clergy man. “His habit, gait,, and modest, coute nance and discourse, were all religious, and agreeably; to these his hii’r was short and his beard long." . A source Of dispute between the Roman and Greek Churches has been the sub ject of wearing Or not wearing the beard. The Greek Churchltas adhered to the deci sions of the early Church, and refused to ad mit any shaven saint into its calendar, and thereby condemning the Romish Church for the opposite conduct. Andonthe other hand, the Popes, to make a ,distinction between the Eastern and Western decisions, made statutes De radendis Barhis, or shaving the beard. Some, however, believe that faith and nature might be reconciled. The leading English and Gorman Reformers wore their beards, with an exception or two. Most of the Pro testant.martyrs were burnt in their beards. , A New Patent Canteen tor the Arut. All the troops that have thus far loft for the seat of war, were but indifferently provided with receptnolosfor water';'having in all cases been furnished vfith the old fashioned oval canteen, which n't. th‘6‘ IdßSt pressure opened the seams, and lot out the water.- Besides this, there is another and more serious diffi culty f owing fo'tho shape of the canteen, it never remain# iff its" proper position, but shifts about; greatly inconveniencing t lie’ movements of the soldier. . Some m'-ohanieal genius, how ever, has obviated this difficulty, by inventing a canteen which also serves as a coffee and tea pot. The .object is to provide a canteen which m'ay be carried, with greater facility, may be more readily filled, and more .conve nient'-to drink from. This apparatus is pro vided with n filter which can- be readily at tached to the spout, thus making brackish Water fresh' tfnu, swe'Ct. '.the improvement consists in constructing the canteen of a curved form in its horizontal position,, so as to corn firm to the shape of the’ tbdy, and in provi ding if with an introduction or filling opening with funnel attached, and also with the mouth tube and filter. The canteen may bo turned into a coffee or tea pot; the tea or coffee being placed in the canteen through the funnel, and pouring boiling water upon it, and closing it with tire cork. To the spout is attached a small 'sieve which prevents the grounds from coming through. The Garibaldi Guards, Col. Blonker’s regi ment, and several other New York State troops are already provided with this can teen.—A r . Y. Commercials A Good Bird Story. —'The editor of the Brunswick Telegraph tells the following good bird story:—“.Wo. insist that animals reason.. Our good friend, Professor Ohadbourno, would call what wo cite as reason a high order of in stinct,- or a very low state of the reasoning faculties. But upon this point we propose to make no remarks—simply to state facts, and let them go for what they are worth. Once before we mentioned our canary, ‘Billy,’ a bird six-aud-a-half years old. Wo then spoke of llis invariably taking his dry cracker, and wotting it in-his water-dish, previous to eating it. This was after we' hail dipped it into a vessel of water on the table, and a portion had been left in the cage and had dried up. Whenever the bird gets a hemp-seed which’is too hard for him to oraok, ho will take it and dip it in the water, in the most perfect oonfir denoe that it will soften. But ‘ Billy’ recent ly has .been in the habit of throwing his homp sebd ( after trying for W moment to break it) outside of tho ciige; upona littlo platfoi’hvruh ning around' it; ahd a member of the family has taken the seeds and cranked' them for, the bird. On Sunday morning last, quiten' num libr of seeds wore found outside of the cage —wore cracked and thrown to the bird, lie ate them, and what next? ■ Bil y’ went del - borntoly to his seed box', and picked and tl.ow outside the cage every hemp-seed he could Cud, Did ho reason? 27, 1861. THE CHARGE (IF itlCn.IT AT EIfLAD. It is atEylnu that Murat always appears in nls. most terrible aspect. This battle, fought in mid-winter, in lBot, was the most impor tant and bloody one that had, then occurred. France and Kussia had never before opposed such strength to each other, and a complete victorv on either side would have settled tlio late of Europe; Bonaparte remained in pos session of the field, and that was all; ho vic tory was over so like a defeat. The field of Eylau was covered with snow, and the little ponds that lay scattered over it were frozen.sufficiently hard to boar the ar tillery. Seventy-one thousand men-on one side, and. eighty-five thousand on the other, arose from the frozen field on which they had slept the night of February, without teut or covering, to battle for a continent. Auguroa, on the left, was utterly routed in the morning. Advancing through a snow storm so* thick he could not see the enemy, the Russian cannon mowed down his ranks with their destructive fife," while the Cossack cavalry, which wore ordered to charge, came thundering on, al most hitting the French infantry with their long lances before they were visible through the storm. Hemmed in and overthrown, the ; whole di vision, composed Of 16,000 men, with the ex ception of 1,500, were captured or slain. Just then the snow storm clearing up, revealed to-NapOleon the peril to Which he was brought, arid he,immediately ordered a grand charge by the imperial Guard and the whole caval ryl.. Nothing was-further from Bonaparte’s wishes or expectation, than tho bringing of his reserve into the engagement at this early stage of the battle, but there, wes no other re source left him. Murat sustained his high reputation on this occasion, and proved himself, for tho hundredth time, worthy of the great confidence Napoleon placed in him. Nothing could, be more im posing" than tho brittle field, at this moment. Bonaparte and the Empire tromblctl in the, balance, while Murat pepared to lead down his cavalry to save them. Seventy'squadrons, making in all Id,ooo well mounted men, be gan to move over" the slope, with the Old Guard marching sternly behind; Bonaparte, it is said, was more agitated at this, crisis than when, a moment before, he was so near being captured by .this Russians. But as he saw those severity squadrons come down on A plh'nging trot, pressing hard after the white plume of Murat, that streamed through tho snoW storm far in front, a smile passed over his countenance. The earth groaned and trembled ris they passed, and tho sabres above the dark and an gry mass below looked like the fomri of a sea wave as it crests on tho deep. The rattling of their armor and the muffled thunder of their tread drojVned all the roar of tlfOf battle, as with firm, set array, and swift, steady mo tion they bore down with their terrible front .on the foe. The shock of that immense host was like a falling mountain, and the front lino of the Russian, army-went down like frost-work, he i fore it. Then commenced a protracted fight, j of hand, to hand, and sword to sword; as in the cavalry action at Echmuhi: The clashing of steel was like the ring of countless ham | mers,-and horses tfnd riders were blended in wild confusion together; the Russian reserve were ordered up, and on these Murat fell with his fierce horsemen, crushing and trampling) them down by thousands.' Rut the' obstinate Russians disdained to fly,; and rallied again and again, so that it wrts no longer cavalry charging on infantry, but squadrons of horse gallopping through broken hosts that, gather ing into knots, still disputed,-vyith unparallel cd bravery, the red and rfeiit field. It was during this strange fight that Murat was seen to perform one of those desperate deeds for which he was so renowned: Excit ed to the highest pitch of passion by the ob stacles that opposed him, ho seemed endowed ■with ten-fold strength! and looked more like a superhuman being trending down helpless mortals, than an ordinary man. Amid the roar of Artillery, and rattling of musketry, and falling of sabre strokes like lightning about him, that lofty white plumb never once went down, while'ever and anon it was seen glaring through the smoko of battle, the star' of hope to Napoleon,, and showing that his ‘right arm’ was still uplifted, and striking for victory. ‘ , 110 raged like an unloosed lion amid the foor and his eyes, always terrible in 1 battle, burned with increased lustre, while his clear and steady voice, heard above the turmoil of strife, worth more than a thousand trumpets to ch'b'er orr Mr followers: At length', seeing a knot of Russian soldiers that for a long time had kept up devouring fire upon his men, ho wheeled Ills'-hbrSh and drove in, full gallop upbh their .levelled muskets,- A fc’w of his guards, that hover allowed that White’plume to leave their sight, charged after him. With out waiting to' count his foes, ho seized his bridle’ in his fe'Cth', and with’.his pistol in one hand and his drawn sword in the other,- bbfst in headlong fury upon them, and scattered them as if a hurricane'had swept by. Murat was a thunderbolt on that day, and the deeds that were wrought.by him will furnish themes for the poet and the painter. Soda or Birds.— Song is the bird's mys tery, and its different degrees are almost endless; some think they understand these sounds, What a range of tones between the cawing of the raven and tiro voice of the nightingale' of the' mocking-bird! The' shrill cry. of the osprey is terrible as he swoops upon his prey, but how tender and,alluring is the cooing of the turtle-dove 1 Wonderful are the accents of a single bird’s voice—now rapidly prattling,. now drawn out long and soft, then fine with sudden stops, or again shrill and disjointed—expressing, in fact, the feelings of content or sorrow* the. tender .affec tion of love'of thtf rage of jealousy. Need I hero refer to the delight which the earliest greeting of the lai-k awakens in us? We in stinctively repeat— "Hark, tho lark at Heaven's gala sings, and welC'oAW that refreshing feeling which pervades the heart, when after tho choorle.as days of winter the spring sun beams. We have many songsters already upon our beau-i tiful island, and now is the best.tftno to hear the matin song of the year. The spring is I the season 1 wheir they make tho whole conn-1 try one orchestra. While the morning- is yet cold, thoroaro only a fow chirps; blit enough of music in them for my car to make me de sire their repetition.' Jtn the day gets warmer tho air is lillod with cheerful melodies, and you fool more joyfiil and more lifting up of tho heart, than when any other music infects Vour cafe. ‘ MVmy have amused themselves in making imaginary scales of birds’ notes.— This, o? course, is a difficult matter, as no two persons can bo 1 exactly of the same ear and opinion on the subject. C 7” The Cincinnati papers state that Miles Greenwood, of that city, has taken a govern ment contract for, rifling old muskets, and will prepare eight hundred of these arms per day. Effect of War on California. California is likely to bo among the tnost secluded parts of the Union, in the coining contest between the sections; So far as homo interests are concerned, the newspapers of. San Francisco have few expressions of regret at the changed condition of public affairs. They anticipate that the shipments of trea sure will be suspended, chiefly on account of the hazards of transportation On the Atlantic coast, and that in consequence the' prccio'fis metals will remain at home to stimulate in dustry. The San Francisco Herald says:— “Close Up the Golden Grtte to'r tiensure ship ments only for one yeftr, and we shall have the agreeable little sum of from forty-five to fifty millions of gold, without counting our silver, for hom'O expenditure and seeking em ployment in the various resources of our State/' Manufacturing, too, from the diffi culty of continuing importations, is expected to receive a new impetus. As the manufac ture of beet sugar was commenced in Franco, and afterwards grew to an interest of the first importance, owing to the necessity of pro ducing at homo Whitt could not. be procured abroad, pendiugthc war with Great Britain, so California may possibly learn to depend mi her own resources for the supply of a large variety of articles riovf obtained elsewhere— such as hardware, woolen goods, tobacco, &c. California may also bo tempted to embark more largely in commercial pursuits on her own account, directing attention. to.Cbina and Japan, Australia and the Pacific Coast; find perhaps a considerable number may seek her sllores for a refuge. But this is the best side of the picture. Every part of the country must snare , the prostration of industrial in terests while the conflict continues. —Journal of Commerce; Don’t Care a Bit.—An Irishman going fo market met it farmer Aritir an owl. “ Say mishter, wh'nt’ll you take for yer big eyed Turkey 1” “It is an owl, Jo baist,” replied the aston ished farmer; “ Devil a bit do 1 care Whether it. is old of young; price, the bird ye spalpeen.” , of the now World-famous Colt pistol isUtisW; ■Whittier,' a New, England rrmehanio, now History of The “Coi/rs.”—ThfireaUin'tSntor working by the'.day in the railroad and ma chine shopaof Harrisburg Pa. It wasin 1837 while living in .Enfield, N. H., that he made the orignal invention; and got his patent. He immediately, commenced the, mh'nhfa’ctrc of the arm, but at iho end of two years was prostrated, by a fire, which distfoyed all his stock rind machinery, and left him poor and unable to start afresh. In 1851, he procured a renewal of his patent, and in the same year sold it fof $200,0 to Henra 8.-Dsach anb'samuel Woodruff of Hartford; wh'of ih turn sold it to Samuel Colt, by whome if has beeon worked up to its pfesent great renown, and to whom it has returned on immense fortune; A. Di’sAFroiN'fn Darkey.— An old darkey,' whom Capt. Jim Francis knows very well, went ; od't one day to catch catfish. After catching" Small frj; bo Hooked a finepike. Some gentlcmC’n'; who .were fishing near him, were about to offer their congratulations at his Wok ■ bqfore tliey could do so, however, the darkey had detached 1 th'C'quivering beauty from his hook, and flung him again'into’th’e water. f “ Why under the sun did you do that for?” ho was asked.- “ Why, marser,” was' fife-reply, " I come a oattin’, ari’ when I, gob's cattin-’, I wa'ntd cat fish; a'nd not pike'.-” [C7” Mr. Smith you said you once officiated in a pulpit; do you mean that you preached. “No sir; 1 held the light for the man that did/' ‘‘ Ah I thdcod’-thfldtirstoodyod' differently. They .supposed that the discoUrsC caiUe' from' “Mo sir ! X only thfowed a little light upon “ No; JeVity; Wbv Smith.- Crjir wipe your nose a'nd call the nest witness." O” Ari old bachelor being ill. Ids sister presented him a cup.of medicine. “ AVhat is it ?" he asked. She answered — j.l ' ' ’ “It is elixir aatlmVrttie, it ia very aronVan tic, and will make you feel ecstatic.” “Nancy'," he replied, with a smile, “you are very sistcr-matic." . , B@“‘Qo to' grass 1' said a' mother to’her daughter. ‘Well, then, I’sposo I’ll have, to nWirry,’ ejaculated the fair dam'sol. ‘Whoso?’ inquired the astonished mother. ‘D'ecn’tVsC' all men are 1 grabs.’ The old lady survived; [L? - Am old lady walked into - the' office of a judge of probate a'nd asked—“ Are you the judge of reprobates?” “ I am thojudgo of pro late” was the reply. “’Well, that’s it, I ex pect," quoth the old lady. “ You see ray fath er died detested, and ho left several infidels; and I want to bo their executioner.” OCT”Every morning we enter upon a new day carrying still ah unknown future in its bosom. Thoughts may be born to day, which my never my bo extinguished,- Hopes may bo excited to-day, which will never ex pire’. Acts may be performed to-day, the con sequences of which may not be realized till eternity.- . O*ln a back township of Upper Canada, a magistrate, who kept a tavern, sold liquor to the people till they got drunk and Tough I in his house. Ho then issued a' warrant! apprehending them, and. tried them on the! spot, aud besides lining- them; 1 made them I Croat each other to make up the quarrel. tfbo man everybody likes is goncrly nfool. I The man who nobody likes is generaly a knave. The man who Ijns friends Who would die for him, and-foes who would love to see him broiled-alive, is usually a man of some worth and force. I O' “Mr Smith, you said yon boarded at the Columbia Hotel six months; did you 1 foot yoiir bill." “No sir; but what amounted to the same thing—the landlord footed me. 1 ’ Verdict for defendant. Call the next case. Presentations are getting common, 'the' captain of a canal boat otft west has just been presented—with a service of five years in the penitentiary,', jn consideration of the distin guished ability with which ho plundered a n'.phssongor and ticked him overboard. O” To look back to antiquity is quo thing to go back it is another; if wo look backwards to antiquity, it'should bo as those that are' wining a race, to pros* forwards the faster, and to leave the beaten still father behind. nnb (Bilk'; [£7*Comming—The 4th of July, [£7*Enlistments for the wavy are briskly going on in the maritime cities. ' Ty”A good man is kinder to his Onen\y than bad men are to their friends. !T7”A glorious camp meeting that at Fort ress Monroe. , t OCT*Who wants a better ‘National Him, than General Scott? ' ' ' BgyOut of six thousand oil wells in Pear nsylvania abotit three hundred pay; OC?" The peach crop in the Vicinity of Cin cinnati has been entirely out off; ■ BS5““Thc tinies are hard’ wife, and t fincl it dilliicult to keep my nose above the water." . S®‘Thb number of applicants for sitiio-' tioif in the New York Custom House is bfer twelve thousand. ■ , “Yop can ersly keep’ your nose wa ter, hubrind, if you didn’t keep ‘ it S often qbpve brandy/’. tCT"Dogs are said to speak with their tails. Would it not bo bettor to call a sh'ort-taiied dog a stu'm'p orator. BgP’The New York board of Ulde'fmfea have appropriate/! SB,o'o(f for the ceiebrdirOn of thfifourtbof July. o”Paper parchment, it is said, nfay b'd produced by immersing paper id a concen trated solution of chloriilo of zine. [E7“Show da the mau who sdys fie ha* A'o' confidence in woman, and wo will show you a viUian and a libertine at heart. 8®” The New York Post saiys there Has ■ been a remarkable decrease of erimC in thfrt, city since the - war commenced. ■,.0-Itis stated that George 11. Milos; of Md.,- has been Appointed U; S; Consul to Rottordrm. O’Tho Cincinnati Press publishes at SoN men by Rev. M. D'. Conway'pf that city,- oh the “ Hbrrors of Peace.” flSy-Tlie Lyons newspapers state that thd French officers are o'omming to the United StrttCg to take service in our armies; B®*Major General George’MoClellah, next in rank to General Scott, is only thirty-throe years' of ago.' o“Thore is a man'in Albany, haling from Now Hampshire, whose right hand- repre sents, perfectly, the head of a snake.- . lE/” A Imohclof editor; who had h pretty sister, recently wrote to another bachelor cqualy fortunate—Please exchange; ttfiyTho Richmond Whig of the Ist says, Virginian will be pu t in the Confederate Cab inet, vice Secretary of War Walker; ■ O* A regiment Of Wisconsin cavalry; un der command of Carl Sehurz, is confidently expected to arrive at Harrisburg in it few days.- ■ , D'/T'Thcro are’ two classes' of disappointed lovers, those who are disappointed before marriage, and. more unhappy,ones wbtf aW disappointed after it.- ■ O'T'Old angles say, that, if f o\ f Wish' to' catch fine fish, you must not throw your (lit directly at him. Young Ladies may take notice. . S©‘A Scotchman asked an Irishman why half-farthings were coined ju England? The answer was: to give Scotchmen Ori,Opp'Oflfi nlty to subscribe to 1 charitable associations. ICT’IIo who combats his own evil passions, and desires, enters into the sevCrCst battle of life; niid he Who combats StfoC6ssiv6ly; obtains the greatest victory;. “Don’t get 4bqvo year basiness," ds a lady sUid to the shoortmkor who was meas uring her ankle in order to ascertain the size of her foot. The proprietor of a bone-mill adver tises that those sending their own bones to be' ground, will be attended to with' punctuality and dispatch. K7* Dull authors will measure otir judg ment not by our abilities, but by their own conceit. To admire their vapidity, is to have superior taste: to despise it, is. to hawe none; B®'Tho British volunteers now enlisting in New York, the other everting, at their mooting gave three cheers for tho Queen' of England; O” Happy Folks—A child wich a raffle —a schoolboy on a holiday—two lovers wa'lfc J - ing by moonlight—and a boy sucking CidST througn straw. . .. o*Every girl who Intends to qualify for 1 marriage, should go through a course cookery; Unfortunately, few wives are able to dress anything but themselvs.- I ClT'Portcus changed himself into a lion. A good many of hia successors, when they change always make asses of themselves— aud no great Change, cither. (D”A newspaper carrier in Uayfayettojnd. who had been sorely annoyed by a dog, pu»r chased an interest m the animal, and thed shot his half. ■ ' CT' That was a wise nigger, who in speak ing of the happiness of married people, said, Unt’ar ponds altogether how dey enjoy them selves." , o^7”An old maid in Missouri owns 3,000 acres of fine land on which she. employs 30 hands, Why dont the old lady marry she certainly has good grounds for marrying. An' old soaker in Boston- being' fount! in the gutter on a rainy night, the water making a clear breach over him from head to heels was asked by a papsor, what he Wit* doing.- "I agreed to meet a man here.' 1 , Jffi“Tn reply to an advertisement headed. “ Use Cooper's Tooth, Brush," a Western editor says: ‘We'll see Cooper hanged first; the dirty follow! How would ho like to use ours?' ; JF. I * NO. 3,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers