YOL. 48.
AMERICAN' VOLUNTEER.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNINd BY
JOHN H- BRATTON.
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■jWiral
UNDER THE HOLLY HOUGH.
~Yd» wßoh ay esc brn ccl
Or injured friend or brother,
■ In tbo past faded year. ...
Yo who, by word or deed, .
Have made a kind heart I>locd,
Como gather herb.
Lot sinned against, and sinning,
Porgbt their 'strife's beginning,
And join in friondsbip now j
Be links no longer broken,
Bo sweet forgiveness spoken,
.• Under the belly bough.
Yo who have *ovod each other,
Sister and fr’end and: brother,
In. the past faded your,
Mother and sire, and child.
Young man and maiden mild,
• Como gather herb';
•AricTlot your hearts grow, fonder,
As memory shall ponder
Each past unbroken vow, ’
Old loves and younger wooing
Are sweet in tho renewing .
Under tho holly bough,
• b
Yo whb have nourished sadness,. (;
Estranged from hope and gladness,
Xu this past faded year;
Yo Vyith b’burdohod mind
Made aliens from your'kind,
Gomo.-gather boro*
Lot not the useless sorrow
pursue yoLuightand morrow
.. ilf o’er you[ hupodj hope’ now—
Take heart ;• uncloud your faces
And joiu in uur embraces -
• Under tho holly bough.
THE CODNTEBSIGS:
BY r. B. WILLIAMS.
Alas] tho weary Lours pass-slow, •.
Tho Light is very dark and'still,
Aiul in. tho marshes far below’ . •_ /-*■
I bear the boarded whip-poor-will j 4
I scarce can'see yard, ahead,- • -•
, A33?*Tsara are strained to catch odch 'f?
X boar tbo leaves about mo shed,
And tbo springs bubbliug through tbo ground.
Along the beaten path I pace.
Whore white rugs-mark my sentry's track;
In formless shrubs X soom to: trace
. -The fooman'B form, with bending back;
X think I boo himerouohing low— .
I stop and-list—X' stoop and peer,.
Until tho neighboring hillocks'grow
To groups of soldiers, far and near.
With- ready, piece I wait and watch,
Until my eyes familiar grown,
Detect each harmless oarthern notch,
And turn guerillas into stone; ■
And then amid the lonoiy gloom;
Beneath' the tall old.chosuut troca,
My. silent marches I resume,
, And think of other limes than those.
'u Halt I Who goes there ? " my challenge cry,
it rings along the watchful-lino;
“Belief!" I hear a voioo reply — •
“Advance and give tho countersign."
With bayonet at the charge I wait—
The .corporal gives tho mystic spell; .
With arms aporb I phurgo my mate,
Thou onward pass and all is well.
, Dut |n the tont that night awake,
I ask. if in the fray I fall,'
Can I the mystic answer mako-
Whon tho ahgelio, sentries pall ?
And pray thatlloavou may so ordain,’
Where’er I go, what fate bo mine,
Whether in pleasure, or in pain,
I still may have the countersign.
THE ROSE Of GLEN VALLEY.
Mubdeii!—llolp I—Oh, help !"
How sharp and fearfully distinct that cry
rang out on the midnight air I But there were
none to hear it, except the two ruffians, who
Erossing still closer to their victim bore Ijim
fttvily to the ground.
“ Ho is deadJj’ said the eldest one, placing
his hand upoii'tuo heart of the wounded man,
who lay upon the ground without sense or
motion. »
“ We had better make, sure of it,” said the
other, significantly pointing to the river at a
short distance.
His companion understood him, and with
out a word on either side they lifted up the
body and carried it to the river. There was
a. heavy splash* something that sounded like
a stilled groan, and'the broad waters rippled
quietly over it—the moon looked down as
calmly and placidly as if crime and murder
were a thing unknown. The two men then
mounted their horses and rode swiftly away. |
“ This is a good night’s job,” said the |
shorter and the younger of the two.
“I should judge so,” returned the other,
dryly, “as it gives you one of the richest
earldoms in England. .
“ Ay, and by my knightly faith, you shall
find that the Earl ofEgberton is not ungrate
ful,” said the other, “ The thousand pounds
shall be yours to-morrow, and if there is
anything else I can do for you, you may com
mand me to the full extent of your power.”
There will be a merry bridal to-morrow,”
said his companion.
“Veryl” replied the younger one, with a
light mooting laugh.. “ Lady Blanche will
wait long at the altar,for her lover; and as
for my good cousin Walter, who has been my
rival in love and ambition, I’ll warrant he’ll
sleep as sound to-night as he would were he
pillowed in her arms I But we must separate
here,” ho added, as they emerged from the
forest into the open country. “We must
not be seen together. Adieu 1 We shall meet
to-morrow at the bridal.”
And so saying ho turned the hood of his
horse into one of the two roads that were be
fore them, and his companion taking the oth
er, they parted,
* * * * * »
In an ologant boudoir , partly reclining
upon a low couch, was a fair young girl of
not more than twenty summers, apparently in
deep rovory. Ilor thoughts wore very ploas-
nnt, for there ia a half-smile around her
mouth, and an expression of thoughtful and
subdued tenderness in the deep blue eyes
and on tho smooth open brow. Her maid,
who had entered some minutes before, but
who had hesitated to disturb her, now ap
proaches. ■ , ~
“It 'is nearly ton, Lady: Blanche," she
said, addressing her young mistress; “in
half an hour tho guests will be hero."
“ Can it bo possible that it is so late as
that?” she replied, starting from her seat.
“ Ah, Martha, I am so very happy 1"
“Heaven grant that it may last lady!”
said Martha, solemnly.
A shadow fell across the young girl’s sun
ny face.
“ I’am afraid lam too happy forit to last,"
she said, thoughtfully. “Butoome, Martha,”
she added, gayly, “ your' skilful fingers must
bo more than usually nimble, or I shall bo
late at my bridal.”
It did not take Martha long to loop back
those clustering curls, and to arrange the,
shining folds that fell so gracefully around
that exquisitively moulded form ; yet she
had hardly finished when there was an im
patient knock at tho door, and a man entered.
'vho
whoso bowed form and white hair boro fho
impress of extreme old age. It was lord
Cantref. Ho gazed updh his daughter for a
moment with an expression of mingled pride
and pleasure. '
“Heaven bless you, my .beloved child!”
he murmured, fondly,' “But come,” he ad
ded, “ the carriage is waiting, my love, and
our friends are growing impatient.”
“ Has not Walter been here yet, father,”
inquired the young girl.
“ No,” replied her father. “It is rather
strange; but 1 suppose something has de
tained him. lie-will probably meet us at
the church.”
As Blanche passed down through the group
of liveried servan ts that lined the hall, every
one anxious to catch a glimpse of the bride,
many a heart blessed her sweet face, and
prayed that all the bright anticipations its
smiles and blushes shadowed forth might be
realized.
.To Lord CantrePs surpise, the Earl of Eg
berton was not at the church-door when they
arrived. His brow grew dark with anxietv,
though ho endeavored to allay the apprehen
sions of his daughter, whose cheeks alternate
ly flushed and paled at her embarrassing po
sition.
Just as they were about to return. Lord
Oantref noticed a horseman approaching at a
furious pace, whom, he recognized as Mr.
St. Croix, thp young earl’s cousin. Ills'
clothes were 'torn and dusty, and his face
pale and haggard, as he hurriedly alighted
from his horse winch was covered with sweat
and foam. As' his eye fell upon Lady
Blanche, he hesitated, and casting a signifi
cant glance upon Lord Cantref, beckoned him
aside. But this movement did not escape
the observation of Lady Blanche whose cheek
grow pale with fear.
is' from "Walter 1” she exclaimed,
breaking from her attendants and following,
her-—father. “Toil me,she* added, wildly,
addrossihg St. Croix, “ is he ill—dead ?”
“ Becalni.mydear child,” said Lord Cantref,
soothingly, whose countenance ■ betrayed
great agitation ; “ theyoungoarl is not dead,
only missing. It is to bo hoped ho will.yot
be found.” .
Lady Blanche uiaderioroply.butfelpalo and
gasping into her father’s arms, who quickly
convoyed her to the carriage.
Many of the by-standers gathered around
St. Croix, anxious to know the cause of this
strange scene. From the narration ho gave,
they gathered that the earl had disappeared,
no one knew whither. That there was no
clue to his, fate, excepting his horse, which
cariTb homo a few minutes after midnight,
with dark stains of blood upon his breast and
sides. The grief and horror with which St.
Croix narrated these circumstances produced
a very favorable impression on those who
heard him ; for ho _was next kin to the earl,
and upon his death would come into possesion
of the earldom.
* * * » *' *
“My child,” said Lord Cantref, a few
months after,,who was in close and earnest
conference with liis daugh or, “I would not
urge you to take this stop, were I riot as
sured that it would result in your ultimate
happiness.”
“I do no doubt it, father,” said Lady
Blanche, languidly. - “But somehow the
very thought is repulsive to me. I never
liked Mr. St. Croix, and cannot say that I
like him any bettor since his accession to his
new honors. There is, to ray woman’s in
stinct, something treacherous and cruel in.
the very glarieo of his eye and the sound of
his voice.”
“You are prejudiced, my daughter,” said
her father. “ I see nothiug ofthis.. Indeed,
I believe him to bo an honorable, man, and
in every respect worthy of you. You have
no. brother,” he added, solemnly; as his
daughter made no reply, “ and will soon
have no father, for my race is nearly run. It
grieves me to leave you so unprotected, and
it would take the last sting from death could
I see you Lord Egberton’s wife.”
“ Lot it bo as you say, father," replied Lady
Blanche, indifferently. “ Since Walter is
dead, I care little what becomes of me.”
“The earl has been waiting some time to
seo you, Blanche,” ho continued; “may he
come in and receive your consent from your
own lips?”
Lady Blanche inclined her head; and in
a few moments the wily man was by her
side.
“ I have no heart to give you,” she said,
in reply to his earnest protestations, lifting
her eyes calmly to his face ; “ but my hand
is yours whenever you choose to claim it.”
“ If the most devoted and tender love can
win your heart, it cannot fail to be mine,
dear lady,” said the earl, softly.
“ Nay, Lord Egberton,” said Lady Blanche,
firmly, “it will avail little. All the heart
that I have is buried in Walter’s grave. Yet
I promise that all I can give you shall be
yours any day you name.” .
The earl murmured a few words of thanks,
and then raising her hand respectfully to his
lips, turned away, and mounting his horse,
rode rapidly toward Egberton Hall, his heart
full of exultation at his success. As ha was
passing through a narrow defile, a form
wrapped in a large cloak suddenly crossed
his path, startling his horse so that ho near
ly threw him from the saddle. With a mut
tered imprecation ho turned towards the in
truder.
“It is I, Edward St. Croix!” said a deep
hollow voice; and throwing back the cloak
the pale light of the moon fell upon the tali
form of a woman, clad in a strange, fantastic
attire. Her flashing eyes were black as mid
night, as_ also was the heavy mass of disor
dered hair that fell below her waist; her com
plexion was dark, even to swarthiness. Yet,
in spite of her weird, unearthly aspect,
there was something in the general contour
of her face which showed that she had once
possessed more than common beauty.
Ardello!" exclaimed St. Croix, astonish-
“ Nay, Edward,” said tlio woman, with a
low, hitter laugh, “not the loving and trust
ful Ardello, whom you lured by your vile
arts from her happy, homo but Cleopatra, the
gypsy queen ?”
“ I—X thought—” stammered the earl.
“ You thought mo, as you intended mo to
bo, aead !" she said, interrupting him with
a still more bitter laugh. “But, my friend,
poison does not always kill, oven when ad
ministered by so practiced a band as yours.
1 have many antidotes, for such as you gave
me on the night rtf pur last meeting 1”
“ You are talking at random, woman," said
the earl, sternly, recovering, in a measure,
his self-possession. “What is,it that you
want of me—money?”
“ Not for worlds would I touch your gold,
Edward St. Croix,” exclaimed the gypsy
queen with a haughty gesture ; “ red as it is
with the blood of the innocent!—No, I am
come to warn you, man, that the cup of ven
geance, is nearly full, that tho sword of jus
tice is ready, even now, to descend upon your
head ! Go ! and instoad.of fulfilling the wick
ed purpose that is in vour heart to-nifht.
mount yourfleetest steed, and escape info
some far country, and there by a life of peni
tence strive to retrieve the past!”
“Are you mad, woman, to address such
language to hie?” exclaimed the carl, angri
■y- „
“ Nay, hear mo out,” said the gypsy queen,
calmly. “ To-morrow is to ho your bridal
day,.is it not—that is, to witness your mar
riage with the beautiful Lady Blanche ?”
“It is,’’.replied her companion, a grini
smile of satisfaction flitting across.his face
at the recollection.
“Woo to the dove when it mates with the
hawkl” said the gypsy. “Edward St.
Orqix, was not the earldom sufficient for
thee, that thou must lay. thy blood-stained
hands also upon the betrothed of thy murder
ed cousin ?” • .
St. Croix fairly reeled upon his saddle.
“ What do you mean?” he gasped.
“Nay, hecalmi” said the womanmocking
ly, as she observed Ins agitation; “ let not
your craven heart fail you now. Dead, men
tell no tales, f The moon that behold 'that
deed of blood, the river that received the
body of the victim, have no tongue to accuse
you. Yet is there one whoso eyes were upon
you, and whoso vengeance will surely over
take you. Go I warn you to flee from the
wrath that is coming.” ■
The earl remained some seconds with his
eyes fixed intently upon the spot where the
woman disappeared. The cold sweat started
out in largo drops upon his face, and his
limbs shook as.if seized with an ague fit.
“ She jp no woman,” he muttered to him
self, as he spurred his horse onward, “ but
a very fiend 1 But were she twice the fiend
that she is, she should not stand between mo
and my promised bride 1”
lie reached Egborfon JJall in safety, and
endeavored with largo draughts of wine to
drown all recollection of the scene through
which hahad.just passed. But itwas'in vain' ;
those black eyes seemed to be burning into
his very soul, and the tones of that strange
mysterious warning still sounded, in his ears.
, “ Pshaw 1” ho exclaimed, after an ineffec-,
tual effort to banish it from his mind ; “it is a
mere suspicion on her part; she can know
nothing about it.' But lot her, too, beware;
for if she crosses my path again, ! will send
here whore her babbling tongue will keep
quiet Tor the future 1” ; .
* * * » »
Once more Lord Cantrefs mansion is all
bustle and activity. The bells ring forth a
merry peal, for it is the bridal day of the sole
daughter of his house, the lady Blanche, the
Rose of Glen A’allcy.
. A-murmur of mingled pity and admira
tion filled the church as the bride entered.
Her face vvas almost as pale as was the cost
ly veil, whose ample folds fell nearly to her.l
feet, and it bore the impress of. deep-seated
melancholy. She looked more I :, :o a corpse
than n bride, and the whole’ proceeding re
sembled far more a funeral than a bridal.
The bridegroom soon entered, whoso haggard
countenance indicated that ho had passed
a sleepless ■ night.; No murmurs follow
ed his entrance, even among his own re
tainers, for he bore no resemblance to the
late earl, his predecessor, whose affable and
engaging manners had made him a general
favorite. Ilis morose, unsocial disposition
and haughty bearing made him both disliked
and feared. As he took his place by the side
of Lady Blanche he looked little like a happy
bridegroom ; his manner was abstracted, anil
his eye wore an anxious and restless expres
sion, and several times ho gave a sharp, hur
ried glance around the church, as if fearing
to meet some unexpected guest. Ho grow
calmer, however; when the ceremony com
menced.
Ayhen the old rector bade those “ who
know cause or just impediment why those
two persons should not bo joined together in
holy matrimony to declare it," it was consid
ered by those who heard it as a mere matter
of form, and they wore startled by the sound
of a deep hollow voice in their midst, which
said
. _ Hold hi forbid the marriage.”
The bridegroom turned toward tho place
whence it proceeded. Ho startled, and grew
pale as his glance fell upon the swarthy brow
and flashing eyes of Cleopatra, the gypsy
queen. Unbashed by his angry gianoo, Or
tho many eyes fixed upon her, she exclaimed
boldly ;
“ proclaim Edward St. Croix, falsely
called Earl of Egberton, to be a foresworn
lover, a treacherous kinsman, and murderer,
and therefore no fitting mate for the pure and
gentle Lady Blanche Cantrof.”
“It is false—she is mad!” said the earl,
hoarsely. “ Let the' ceremony proceed.”
“ Fool 1” muttered the woman, “ you rush
on .your own destruction. Walter, Earl of
Egberton,” she added, impressively, turning
toward a man who eat in the hack part of the
church, muffled up in a largo cloak, “ come
forward and prove the truth of my assertion.”
At these words the man arose, and throw
ing back the cloak, revealed a face, which,
though pale and ghastly, boro a strong re
semblance to the young carl’s. Then walk
ing deliberately up the aisle, ho approached
the altar, and fixed his eyes sternly on the
countenance of. the guilty man. When St.
Croix’s eyes fell upon him, he stood like one
transfixed with horror. Then, throwing his
arms wildly above his head, as if to protect
himself from his further approach, he fell
heavily to the floor, blood gushing from his
mouth and nostrils.
All but one among that horror stricken
group supposed it to be the spirit of the un
fortunate earl, which had returned to take
vengeance on his murderer, and feared to ap
proach him. But Lady Blanche, rushing
forward, threw herself wildly upon the bosom
of hor lover, obtaining convincing proof as she
did so, from the warm kisses that fell' upon
her cheeks and lips, that it was no spirit, but
her own Waltpr,
Whoa they lifted St. Croix from the place
“ OUR COUNTRY-MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT-BUT, RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY."
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 30, 1862.
~nt winch there wore^iTCppT®,
the Lady Blanche, the beautiful Hose of Glen
Valley, gave her hand .to AValter, Earl of Eg
borton, at the altar of the ivy-clad church of
Stokc-Crantref.
Both the carl and countess tried to induce
Cleopatra, the gypsy queen, to settle down in
the neat, pleasant cottage the earl had given
her. But they cquld net prevail upon her to
give up her roving life, to which she was
strongly attached. She made it a rule, how
ever, to visit Eghorton Hall once a year, and
the earl gave strict injunctions to all of his
tenants that neither she nor her followers
should ever be molested.
Jinny yeaTs have elapsed since the events
have recorded; but in remembrance of the
services rendered by the gypsy queen, any
member of that wandering tribe «ho visits
the neighborhood has always a hospitable re
ception from the descendants of the Rose of
Glen. Valley.
A singular trial has occupied the attention
of the Paris judges, involving the right to the
title estate of one of the highest'of -the
noble families of France. Some thirty years
ago the heir of this noblo.house was confided
to the charge of a wet nurse, and his parents,
fully occupied with the gaieties of the fash
ionable world, : seldom saw their infant.
One day, when the mother paid one of her
fleeting visits, the nurse, in her excitement,
let the Child fall and broke his arm, and. she
was. induced by her husband to take her own
child, a boy about fchp.eameage, to receive
the maternal embrace. 'lnstead of the custo
mary smiling indifference, however, with
which she and her charge had been usuaUy :
greeted, a cry of angry ijorror burst from the
ni other—“ Grands JJieuxl what a .filthy little
oipect I How
for I-’ au-jr l , in a infant
.her arms, and before the stupitied nurse could
expostulate, the carriage had driven off, and
the wtfman was standing, open-mouthed and
alone, on. the threshold. The husband en
deavored to console her with the hope that
( n the morrow all be right. -
The screaming heir was quickly, attmded
to by the village doctor, and by dawn the
next day the good man had walked to-tin
pheateau to explain the disaster, and what
was his consternation on learning that the
lady had only visited the chateau for the
night, and that she f alrcady started by the
I railway for Germany, carrying with her the
child, and full of anger and disappointment
against the nurse for having allowed her dear,
baby to get so dirty, lean and brown.. Her
husband persuaded her to remain until the
family's return; but they did not return for
years.
. Both children grow up, and not until some
time after were the facta revealed, "when* the
nurse on her deathbed made a dying declara
tion to the above fact.. The gentleman at
present in possession of the estate, and whose
right is questioned, is well khoivn in England,
having been secretary to the French Embassy
in London for many years, and only recently
removed to a higher position.
EirnaAciNO the Widows. —At a recent
meeting of a parish, a solemn, straight-bod
ied and, most exemplary deacon submitted a
report, in writing, of the destitute widows and
others standing m need of assistance in the
paoish. “Are you sure, deacon," asked an
other solemn brother, “ that you have embra
ced all the widows?” lie said ho believed
he had done so ; but if any had been omitted
the omission could bo easily corrected.
DC?” As it is the sun I .that ripens,-as it is
the sun that gives color 1 and flavor, as'itis the
sun that is required to do. nib things in the
life of a plant; so, in tbe life, of every man
it is the power of God on the soul that is in
dispensiblo to the development of higher fac
ulties, and their development in their highest
forms.
O' No man, until he is like a clod, until
he comes to dust again, until he is. shut up in
every faculty, can, according to the laws of
his nature, but bo dependent upon others, so
that ho is, in himself, what others permit him
to be, or help him to bo.'
IC7” Men can never ho brought to tho high
er form of their own nature till the soul has
been brought under tho conscious influence of
tho divine mind. And the thoughts of God,
tho feelings of God. the commands of God,
tho will of God—these aro the instrumental
ities by which we are to come to ourselves.
Cgy Learn in childhood if you can, that
happiness is not outside, but inside. A good
heart and a clear conscience bring happiness
which no riches and no circumstances alone
over do.
O” As flowers never put on their best
clothes for Sunday, but w«ar their spotless
raiment and exale their odor every day, so
let your life, free from stain, ever give forth
tho fragrance of the love of God.
BSy The latest advertisement of on air
tight coffin is that it protects tho form from
decomposition, “ and can bo retained in tho
parlor as an elegant piece of furniture, withr
out any annoyance whatever."
BSy Life, wo are told, is a journey; and to
see the way in which some people eat, you
would imagine that they were taking in pro*
visions to last them the lyhofo length of the
journey,
. [Cy“ Civil war has affected St. .Louis like a
stroke of palsy. Thousands of inhabitants
have loft that city within a year, an immense
number of houses and stores aro vacant, and
all busihoss, except government contracts, is
at a dead stand,
where ho had fallen, they found that life had
departed. It seems that the wounds giv
en to the young carl were,not, ns his murder
ers supposed, mortal. His plunge into the
river, instead of rendering his death certain,
restored him to consciousness, and when ho'
arose to the surface, he made a desperate
effort to regain the shore. In this ho would
not probably, Kayo been successful, for he was
weak from the loss of blood had it not been
for the gypsy queen, who'was Crossing the
river in a boat with some of her followers.
She picked him up, conveyed him to her tent,
and with the most devoted and tender care
nursed him through the long and dangerous
illness that followed.
The earl on his recovery, became aware Of
his cousin’s usurpation of his estates and title,
also of his betrothal to the Lady Blanche ; but
retaining h grateful sense of bis indebtedness
to the heroic woman to whom ho owed his life,
and, who, in spite of all, still cherished a strong
affection for his treacherous cousin, ho allow
ed her to warn him, hoping that it would in
duce him to flee the country, delaying for that
purpose his nppearanceuntil the very last mo
ment.
There was another bridal day "npointod.
Romance In Beal life.
THE CHIPPEWA’S TRAIL.
AN ADVENTURE IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN.
BY UNCLE SAM,
Near tho head waters of the Manistee river
is one of the most beautiful lakes in the West.
It is known to tho few hunters who are ac
quainted with its locality as Clear Lake. It
is about twenty miles longand eight miles
wide. The numerous streams which empty
their waters into this lake abound with mink
and otter, and tho country round about abound
with deer, bcarg, wolves,, and other animals
The AVinter of ’4O found myself and Ben
AVators encamped on the shore of the outlet,
with tho intention of hunting and trappining
until Spring. AVeJmd a good supply of traps,
ammunit on, flour and salt, which we had drawn
on hand-sleds; and wp calculated on making
a big haul before Spring. Wo were strong
and healthy, and our rifles furnished us with
plenty of meat. AVo had first-rate luck, and
it wi\s already the last Week in January. I
had gone out to the, traps, expecting to find a
warm breakfast prepared on my return. On
nearing tlie log cabin, however. 1 was sur-
Wed'nt nor ---
prised at not 'seeing any snioXd - Sscdhßnij
from tho stick chimney. 1 quickened my steps,
thinking that something must bo rrtrong.—
When about twenty rods from tho cabin, an
Indian rushed out of the open door, followed
by Ben’s dog, who followed him a few steps,
and then went back into the. cabin. I was
loaded with tho game that I had taken out of
tho traps, and before I could unsling my rifle
the Indian dodged behind the cabin and fled
into the wood. I entered the cabin, . and a
scone mot my gaze that made mo sick at heart.
On the hearth lay Ben, weltering in his blood,
his faithful dog standing guard over his dy
ing master; In tho farther corner lay an In
dian, shot through tho brain. -
“Are you hurt bad, Ben?” said I, as I
stooped over to examine his wound.
''‘Yes, Sam, l’m goingfast,” said lie; “but
I shot one of the red devils, and the other shot
me, and would have scalped me, but Wolf
drove him off. Ho.has stolen my riflo arid
everything else that ho could find. Now Sam,
do you follow liim and put a bullet through
his dirty carcass.” . • , . •
“lie shall die. Bon, if I have to follow him
to Port Adams.” -
Beri breathed his last almost as soon as I
ceased speaking; and, filling my pockets with
bread and meat, I shouldered my -rifle and
>tartod. Hour after, hour I followed on, the
track of the murderous'savage. It was near
ly dark, and I was walking swiftly through a
narrow ravine,, when suddenly I espied an
Indian drinking,at a hole which ho had cut
with his tomahawk through the ice at tlio
edge of a small lake! Thinking it tp bo the
one I was pursuing, I raised my rifle and
fired. He sprung into the air, with a yell,
and fell buck dead. An answering yell sound
ed at my right, and the sumo Chippewa that |
I had seen rush from my cabin door stepped
from behind a rock and fired at mo.- I felt
the, ball strike mo in the stomach ; I saw. the
"| Indian bounding'toward hie with uplifted
tomahawk. I drew my revolver and endeav
ored to steady myself, but failed, arid fell
senseless to the ground. When l awokc, the
sun had set, and Ben’s dog lay by my side.
I thrnstmy hand into my right vestpockot and
drew forth my watch ; it was ruined, but it
had saved niy life. The Indian who had fired
at .me lay at my feet, his throat torn out.—
The dog had done it 1 Ho had arrived just
in time, for he would not follow me when I
first loft the cabin. I took the Indian’s buf
falo robe and gave it to the dog to sleep on
and wrapping myself in my own robe,-1 lay
down and went to sleep. I awoke at day
light, and taking nothing that I had not
broughtbutßeri’s rifle, for my stomach pained
mo so that I was unable to carry more, I star- i
ted for Clear Lake.
I reached the log cabin before night, and
found that a party of twenty doer hunters had
taken possession of it. They had buried Eon
and the Indian, and intended to hunt for doer
and bears a couple of weeks, and then return
to their homes, about fifty miles south of Clear
Lake. Before I went to bod that night, I ar
ranged with them to carry my furs and traps
hack with them.
The next .morning, when I visited my traps,
I found them well filled with game, and it
was the last that I caught.at Clear Lake; for
the pain that the Indian’s bullet gave mo in
the stomach did not leave ino until another
Winter had passed away. When the doer
hunters returned to their homes, I wont with
them ; but I rode more of the distance on
their sledges than I walked. And never
since the time when Ben lost his life, and I
came so near losing mine, have I visited Clear
Lake, though I often visited it before, in Sum
mer as well as Winter.
Dewdijop Diamonds. What a pretty idea
it was in the little child who supposed, when
ho saw a dewdrop glistening upon the rose,
that the flower, while ho slept at night, had
wept a tear which had been turned into a
diamond? That child was a poet by. nature.
The “ passionate delicacy ” of the offspring
of song was indigenous with him. He was a
genius by instinct. But, alas 1. for romance,
if every dewdrop,were a diamond, how vul
gar that gem would become 1 If the most
precious of all precious stones, could bo gath
ered thus from the lip of every blossom, how
few lips of human kind would praise its
beauty!—ho\V few eyes discern the gorgeous
wealth that now sparkles from its every irri
descent feature. Diamonds are viewed al
most with reverence by some people, and al
ways with admiration by all. But it is their
rarity wins them so much homage. Make
them common, and with their abundance
would fade away, alas! every vestige of their
popularity.
Vanity of Life.—When I look upon the
tombs of the great, every emotion of envy
dies within me; when I read the epitaphs of
the beautiful, every inordinate'desire goes
out; when I meet the grief of parents on a J
tombstone, my heart molts with compassion;
when I see the tombs of parents themselves,
I consider the vanity of grieving for those
whom we must quickly follow; when I see
kings lying by the side of those who deposed
them—-when I see rival wits placed side by
side, or the holy men that divided the world
by their' contests, I reflect with sorrow and
astonishment on the little competitions, fac
tions, and debates of mankind ; when I read
the dotes of tombs of some that died but yes
terday, and some six hundred years ago, I
I consider that groat day when we shall nil bo
cotempororios, and make our appoaranpe to
gether.
O” Tbo world ia full of wise maxims
drawn from experience to teach men to bo
strong bodily and in secular affairs. But
when a man attempts to get above the aver
age of human culture anddpvelojj’:him6elf as
a spiritual and moral croatufo.livingnot by
souse, but by faith, then fiudß thp 'Vrorld
penurious in its provision, '• ' ' ' •
RED,IRKS HP AIR.. HOPKINS,
OF WASHINGTON,
On the resolution for the appointment ofa com
mittee to investigate alleged conniption.
Mr. Speaker —l confess to some surprise
at the opposition :that has been made to this
resolution, ns well ns at the range tho discus
sion upon it has taken. When 1 had tho
honor of submitting it to tho House on Friday
last, I suppose, ns a matter of course, it would i
bo allowed to pass without objection, but in
this I have peon disappointed. Now, sir,
what is this resolution, and what dops it pro
pose to do? The answer to this interroga
tory is found in the preamble. It affirms
that it has been alleged, and is believed by
many of the citizens of tho Commonwealth
that improper influences were used in pro
curing the passage of an act of tho last session,
entitled “An Act for tho commutation of the
Tonnage duties.” Sir, is this-true? It is
true, I say, that these allegations are believed ?
If then I submit, whether it is not, in tho
language of tho preamble, “duo alike to tho
parties implicated, .and tho public at large,,
that an investigation should bo had, in order
that truth rimy bo vindicated, and justice done
TTa^m™_'^Tni7OTr.lopeHK6rr\vaiTrTro’HTOrtmn‘ 1 opeHK6rr\vaiTrTro’HTOrtmn‘
this belief prevails to a. Very considerable #x
tent throughout the State? Ido not suppose
that there can bo a man found any where,
who reads the papers, that does not know
that those allegations have been spread broad
cast over the country for mouths, and that an
impression has thereby been made , oh-the
public mind, that can only be removed by an
investigation, and acquital, by an impartial
committee, But the gentleman from Phila
delphia (Mr.'Dennis) does not think that the.
House possesses the power to investigate the
nets of the Legislature of 1861. That body,
the gentleman,tolls us, “is dead to all intents
and purposes.” Sir, has it come to this?—
Have wo really descended so low in the scale
of decay that bribery and corruption may run
riot in our Legislative Halls, and subsequent
Legialaturo possesses no power to investigate
■ the allegations of fraud, however gross they
may have been! That legislators may be
bought and sold like cattle in the market.—
In a word, that the whole revenues of the
Commonwealth may be bartered away fprthe
personal aggrandizement of faithless and cor
rupt representatives, and .the people have no
redress, because, forsooth, the House has no
power to inquire into the acts of its prede
cessors.
Sir—this cannot be. If such a.monstrous
doctrine can bo sustained, then I ask the
gentleman from Philadelphia—what have we
'left of our Government worth contending for?
Nothing sir, absolutely nothing. Wicked
and unjustifiable as is the present rebellion,
which is attempting to overthrow the Govern
ment, what will wo have gained when it shall
have been crushed out, (which I trust in God
i may bo speedily done,) if it bo conceded that
there is not, sufficient' vitality in the Govern
ment to vindicate itself against the acts of ve
nal inen ? But, Mr. Speaker, X subscribe to
no such a humiliating heresy. I maintain
that it is a living, vital principle, possessing
all the.essential elements of self-preservation,
including, of course, the inherent power to
investigate fraud, .wherever found to exist,
and although tho“body" may bo “dead to all
intents and purposes,” yet the individual
members who composed the body may “still
[live,” and may bo tried, and, if found guilty
of misdemeanors, may bo punished. This,
sir, is the only rational.theory in well-organ
ized society. But the gentleman from Phib
adelphia urges another objection to this reso
lution. lie asks, with apparent sincerity,
“Who are the people demanding this scruti
ny ?” The gentleman from Allegheny (Mr.
Williams) has answered this question most
triumphantly. Ho has pointed to the verdict
at the ballot box, where the people spoke
with an emphasis that 'connot bo misunder
stood, and which may not bo ■ disregarded.
Sir—cast your eyes over this Hall and see
how many there are who occupy sea ts on this
floor, who voted for the repeal of the tonage
tax? You will find that, with the exception
of Philadelphia, there is but a single man,
(the gentleman from Warren,) and yet, sir,
in the face of this unmistakcablp indication
of the popular will, wo are asked, and that
too, in rather a doliant tone, “Who are they
that demand this scrutiny ?"
Another gentleman from Philadolph!n(Mr.
Abbot) assails this resolution in another mode.
Ho thinks that “it is open to the suspicion
that'it'was prompted by other motives than
a desire to make an investigation”’ Waving,
for the present, comments upon the exceeding
goodiaste of the gentleman in making this
allusion, I will remark that I do mit suppose
that the motives which prompted the resolu
tion, ■whatever they may have been,.will have
much influence in making up the judgement
of the House. I may simply observe, howev
er, that were X disposed to impugn motives,
I mighty perhaps, find'a - strong ground for
challenging the integrity of his, in opposing
the resolution as ho has for suspecting mine
for offering it. But, this is' not my mode of
argument. lam always willing to concede
to others the same integrity of purpose that
I claim for myself.
The only other remark I have to make on
this poin: is that I offered'the resolution in
good faith, with no other motive than to as
certain the truth of falsity of the charges, and
if found to bo true, then I hope that the in
vestigation will bo follow'ed up by such steps'
as wil. bring to condign punishment every
rascal, both in an out of the legislature, who
has, in any manner, booh connected with the
nefarious business. If this bo done, may wo I
not hope that it will bo the moans of driving
form the Capital a class of men, who have for (
years been prowling about our Halls, like a
set of vultures, until legislation has become
a reproach in the estimation of all pure-mind
ed men. If however, it turns out on tho oth-1
or hand, that these charges are unfounded,
op-eannot ho sustained, then sir, I will ho tho
first man to sign a verdict of acquital; and
I this, allow mo to add, would bo a much more
agreeable duty for mo to perform, provided
tho facts would justify, than obuld tho con
verse.
I Mr. Speaker, I Imre not doomed it proper
Ito discuss the merits of the act upon which
this resolution is based. I hare ohosou to re
serve anything I may have to say on that
subject until the bill fur the repeal of that
act comes up for the consideration of the
House. I shall then hold myself prepared to
demonstrate, beyond the possibility of cavil
i that the repeal of the tonnage tax, with kin- O' Boileau being frequently called upon
drod measures _ which have been carried by a ll idle, ignorant person, who complained
through the Legislature, within the past two that he did not return his visits, “ Sir,” said
or three years, has taken from the people the French satirist, “we are not upon equal
some eighteen or twenty millions of dollars, terms; you call upon me merely to get rid
and bestowed it upon two corporations, of your time j when I call upon you I lose
But, as I have before intimated, this ques- bline,"
tion does not, in my judgement, arise hero.— BQS“An Oxford student joined, without in-
Lot us then, sir, have this committee. It is vitation, a party dining at on inn; after
remanded by every consideration of justice, • which ho boasted so much of his abilities,
patriotism and public duty, and I trust that that one of the party said: “ You have told
we shall not bo driven from our purpose by the us enough of what you can do; toll us some
jluttcriuyof wounded pigeons, either in the , thing you cannot do." “Faith," said he, “J
1 other end of the Capitol or elsewhere. I cannot pay my share in the reckoning,”
dDbbfl anb (Bnk
in?" Fear is tho shadow of hope.
O” No man can leave a better legacy to
tho world than a well-educated family,
J!!@“ Pridp is tho first weed to grow in tho
human heart, and the last to bo eradicated.
BSp-There are many people whose whole
I wisdom consists in hiding their want of it.
[CT’A man’s own good breeding is the best
security against other people's ill-manners.
SQfllo spake well who said that little
graves aro tho footprints ot angels.-
CC7”Tho weak may generally be joked but'
of anything but their weakness.
K7*lf tho doctor orders bark, has not tho
patient a perfect right to growl ?
of fashionable hats, shbnld
one any “ tho latest stylos’ or “latest tile."
' !C7* Many if you would prosper; a pair
are always four-handed— never.’
. . ,tion. but ourjiu l -;.
gifhk.ia^a.
cc,story certainly got ahead of us in tho world.
OCT” What bites sharper -without teeth than
with ? Tho scissors. ■
|CT* Thero are persons whoforgivo injuries,
but cannot forgot; they bury grievances, but
sot a stone at the grave.
■tSP'ln ninety-nine cases out of a bund-,
red, wealth creates more wants than it sup
plies. ■ ■• i
OCT* A smile may be bright while tho heart
is sad—the rainbow is beautiful in the air
while beneath is tho moaning of tho sea. ’
° . -..vjJj
■ B®" If you want to live long, live uponifrj;
the seashore. No matter'how last your sand4.SC
run, you will always find a plenty more. .' .tfi
' B®“A lover often brings suit in the court
of a lady's heart without being able to sue
out an attachment.
8®“ Those who make their, breakfast on
cold charity are not likely to get it warmed
for dinner. ...
OCT’’We are told to weigh our thoughts;
most men and women would need -a very
small pair of scales.
3C?”“ A man can’t help what is done, be
hind his book," ns. tho scamp said when he
was'kicked out of doors.,
6 ' -
KTMVhen a woman wishes to be very af
fectionate to her lover she calls him a " naugh
ty man.” . .
OCT*A beauty is apt to find no filflt with
her eyes, cheeks, or lips, hilt she upbraids her
hair.
O” Even if your heart is in a cause, it
doesn’t follow that you should “put your foot
in it.”, .
“ Pitchy darkness ” has ..been so im
proved in after times as to read “ bituminous
obscurity.”
CT” Swinging is said by tho doctors to bo
a good exercise for the health, hilt inany.a
poor wretch has come to his death by it. *;•
‘ OCT” Wo are oftenermore cruelly rohbed by
those who steal into our hearts than by those
who break into our houses.
JC7" Why is n vain young .Indy like a /on
firmed drunkard ? Because'neither ni li.eui
is satisfied with the moderate use of the glass,
BSy A man never has the least diibcnliy
in finding a devoted friend except when ho
needs one.
B&“A young man, in conversation one
evening, chanced to remark, “ I am no proph
et.” “ True,” replied a lady present, “no
profit to yourself or to any one else.”
QC7” A man advertises for a “competent
person to undertake tho sale of a new raedi-'
cine,” and adds that “ it will be profitable to
tho undertaker.” No doubt of- it,
OCT” Tho Richmond Examiner says tho
Southern people can raise any article of
Northern industry. Some witty wag coolly
asks, “Why don’t they raise tho blockade ?”
!C7*“ Mynheer, do you know what for wo
call our boy; Huns?” “I dp not really,”—
“Wofl'l will tell you. Dor reason wo call
our hoy Hans is—it iah his name,”
BSS“ As tho moon, whether visible or iii- .
visible; has power over the tides of the ocean, '
so'tho face of tho loved one,, whether present
or absent, controls the tides of the soul.
idgiyAt midnight tho blue sky bonds over,
us, dewy and soft, and radiant with innume
rable stars, like the inverted bell of some
great blue flower, sprinkled with golden dust
and breathing fragrance.
UST-A giddy student having got his skull
fractured, was told by the doctor that the
brain was visible, on which ho femarked,
“Do- write to tell father, for he always said
I had none.”
OCT*A jolly old doctor said that people who
wore prompt in their payments always recov
ered in their sickness, ns they were good cus
tomers, and physicians oon)d not afford to lose
thorn. A'good hint and a sensible doctor,
OCT” Nations, like children, grow more rap
idly and strongly at first than afterward; and
when men havo arrived at a pertain grade of
civilization, they advance but slowly; as nil
tho stars mount moro rapidly when they first
rise abovo tho horizon than afterward.
I ICT Ho not abovo your profession, and ai
rways consider it as the first any man can fol*
low. Never shrink from doing anything
which''your business calls you to do. The
man who is abovo his business may one day
find his business abovo him.
!C7“ Upon the 19th of May, 1790, the mom<
orablo dark day, a Indy -wrote to Pr. Bylee,
as follows: “Dear doctor, how do you ac>
count for this darkness? ’’
lie replied, “ dear madam, I am as muoli
in the dark ns you are.”
O* Words are nice things, but they strike
hard. We wield them bo easily that we are
apt to forgot their hidden power. Fitly
spoken, they fall like the sunshiny, the dew,
and the summer rain—but when unfitly, like
the frost, the hail, and the desolation tempest.
*
■ NO. 34,