American i 380 hmtwr.
VOL. 48.
AMERICAN VOLUNTEER,
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING BY
JOHN B. BRATTON.
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|MmL
THE HmTrBSIDENT’S ball,
BY ELEANOR C. DONNELLY.
« The lights in tho President's mansion,
- Tho gas-lights obcory and rod,
I see them glowing and glancing
As I toes on my wearisome bod; .
I sec them hooding tho windows,
.And, star-like, gemming tho hall.
Where the tide of fashion flows inward
To tho Lady-Prositlont’a Bpßl\
,“ My temples are throbbing with flavor,
. My limbs are palzjccl with pain,.
And tho crash of that festal mus|o
Burns into my aching brain
Till I'rave with dolir|oqs fancies.;
And coffin, and bier,'and ball,
Mix up with the flowers and laces
. Of my Lady-Pfpsjdout's BaUI
“What inatter that I, poor private,
• . Lie hpro on my narrow bod, ■
With the fever griping my vitals,
• And dozing my hapless head ?
What matters that nurses are callous,
And rations meagre and small,
' So long as thO 6eait monde revel
At the Lady-President's Ball 1
4t Who pities my poor old
. Who oomforts my sweet young wife-**
Alone in tho distant city, .
With sorrow sapping theip life?
J bare no money to send them,.
; They cannot come at my call;
No money ! yet hundreds are wasting
. At my Lady-Prosi4ci;t's Ball)
, M Hundreds —ah! hundreds of thousands—
In satins, jewels, arid wine,
prenoh dishes for dainty stomachs,' ■ ,
(While the,black broth sickens inino !)-
And jellies, and fruits, and cold ices,
. And fountains that flash as they fall;
.0 God! for a cup of .cold water
Prom tho Lady -President's Ball I
"Nurse! bring momy uniform ragged— •
..Ha! why did you blow out tho light?
Help me up —though I’m aching and giddy,
I must go to my dear ciioa to-night!.
"Wife! mother! grow-D
•I'liTeoinlngi I’U comfort ye all! ”
And the private sank dead while they resoled
At my Lady-President's .Ball! .
MMlmms.
CHASE OF THE BLOODHOUND
(from BEATEN PATHS ; AND THOSE WHO THOD
THEM. RV THOMAS COLLET ORATTAN.)
“ Kecravani” roared the Squire. “ Here,
■ your honor,” answered the huntsman. “ Sha
yiua!” “It’s hero I am, sir,” said the whip*
perin. “ Are the digs all ready ?” “They
•re all in the couples, your hqner." “And
‘ the gentlemen’s, horses ?” The saddles is on
them, sir.” “ Then lot them be tight girth
ed, for I’m going to give them a real run.
How gentlemen,” continued our host, as ho
was wheeled out into the hall and towards
the open door, “ I am sorry to say I am go
ing to put you off with a drag this morning,
J thought to have had a deer for you ; hut
old Crogan is so angry with mo for cheating
him out of the big black buck the other day,
that he has not let a thing out of bounds
since then," “ What is the Jrag ?” asked
Hsamo one.” “You shall see,” replied the
Squire, “ Bring opt the.drag
» Here ho is, your honor," oxclaimeda voice;
and a figure hounded into the hall from a
side door, in the fashion of “ the sprite” in a
modern pantomime. But no sprite, ever so
dcmon-lito, could be more hideously formed
to cast terror into the souls of the ohijd-audi
enoe at holiday time, than was the apparition
which so suddenly burst upon the full-grown
beholders on this memorable morning, it was
a living man, in tight dross;.with a handker
chief tied round his waist arid a close
cloth cap on his head, but smeared with blood
from crown to sole, even his face ; and, as he
laughed and showed his white teeth and
twinkling eyes through the gory streaks,
nothing could be more appalling. Every
one of the strangers startled and shrank
back. “ Don’t be afeared, gentlemen, it isn’t
a murther I committed. It’s only myself
that’s in it. Godroon, at your sarvioe, my
Lord, and long life to you ; just dressed out
to show sport to your honors. Don’t you
know me, Sir Jeffery ?"
- “ This is a sorry sight!” said Jack Mande
ville, with a stage start.’ “ Out, damned
spot 1” extending his hands towards God
roon, as if he would push him back to the
door ho emerged frorii. This hit of theatrical
fun brought the rest of us somewhat to our
selves, and the scone, revolting ns it was nt
first, began every minute to have something
exciting in it, as the Squire explained that it
was a run with the blood-huuds he was about
to treat us to, and that Godroon was the quar
ry they were to follow. “ But, good God, is
there no danger of their catching him 1”
asked some one. “ Oh, not the least, ho is
used to it,” said the Squire. “So are the
cels,” remarked another, “ Oh, never fear,
there is neither .fire nor frying-pan in quesr
tion. Are you quite ready, Godroon ; “ In
tirely so, sir," replied “ the drag," with an
alacrity that was reassuring. .“Then take
your polo and take care yourself, and God
Speed you 1" exclaimed the Squire, in accents
aorious.ifnot actually solemn. And os Godroon
flourished his leaping-pole and out a few oap
prs out in the court before the house, his mos
sier added," Mind your steps, run steadily, and
look before you leap—do shouting nor scream
ing at the dogs—hold your breath well in—
mind what I soy to you, Godroon." “ I will,
your honor. _ what law are you giving me ?”
“Twenty minutes." “Hurra 1" cried Qod
roon. _ “ You’ll want it nil. Tubbororo bog
is a mile off, and the rath is a quarter beyond
that. You know you are safe among the elm
trees there, Godroon." “It's not straight
there I'm going, sir ; I must show your hon
or and the gintlqmeri better sport than that.
I’ll give a oast into the ould plantation
first." r
, “ Well, away with you I and once more God
speed you!" said the Squire, and the blessing
was echoed by every one of the'household, who
all looked anxious,'though highly delighted,
aa if there was something very serious in the
sport” all were preparing for. Godroon
leaped lightly over the fosse by the aid of
his pole, and flourishing it in the style of a
dram-major marching, at the head of a regi
ment, he started as fearless and buoy
ant as if he was Only going out for a little
trot with the beagles. The servants too
brought forth the boots and huntingfrooks Worn
by the visitors the day before ; and (while we
equipped ourselves)'by order ofthe Squire alow
door in the corner of the court was opened, and
the kennel displayed in which the blood-hounds
were lodged.
“ Out with the beauties,” cried the Squire,
in a triumphant tone, as the grooms and
helpers brought forward the dogs, twelve in
number, all strictly coupled up, and all bound
ing and leaping with a force that put to the test
the whole strength and management ofthe
men who held them in lash. “ There they
ore—look at them—what do you think of
them ?” exclaimed the Squire, his face beam
ing with proud delight. And rail the party,
did look at and examine them carefully, but
with a shuddering feeling as they growled
and bellowed in horse, deep-mouthed tones,
as soon as they caught the scent of the bipod
that had been here and there dripped from
Godroon’s clothes, or been left on the gravel
by foot-prints. As well ns I can now trace the
impression made on me by these teriible ani
mals, they appeared unlike any others, even
of the motley collection of the Squire’s ordi
nary or regular pack before described, They
were, like the others, of various, colors, black
red, yellow, brindled dnfl spotted, hut pretty
nearly of the same size,
They seemed to stand about flve-and-twen?
ty inches high, and perhaps forty in length,
with head, breast, {bre legs and shoulders,
like a light-made mastiff | spout larger ; ears
erect, like a greyhound ; pud loins, croup,
haunches and tail also of greyhounds shape,
only thicker combination indicating
great nerve, strength and agility. As they
strove to escape from the muscular men who
held them, their eyes flashed, they actually
roared with rage and twisted like serpents,
while the men lashed them severely with
heavy-thronged whips, They became quite
frantic with impatience, and several of them
turned to bite or tear the hands that curbed
them. The Squire seemed boiling with
fierce ardor. He held his watch in his hand,
his eyes straining as be counted the minutes,
and at last he exclaimed. “ The quarter of
an hour is passed—now mount, whoever
means to follow me. lead on the horses.”
We all sprang into our saddles ; he was, as
usual lifted into his. No one but ho spoke
a single word. - ‘ ;
There \yas an air of compressed excitement
in every face ofound I have no doubt
every frame thrilled nervously, with a feeling
akin to terror, which pU strove, to conceal..
We were embarked ip a fearful adventure.
But being in for it, ond prepared by the
nights proceedings, we dashed on like men,
rushing to a breach, or charging a battery.
“Time is up,” bellowed Abe Squire .at the
very top' of his now screaming voice—*“ un
loose the couples there on Jthe scent. Hark,
forward, away 1” No sooner said than done.
Every collar was unclasped. The dogs like
a herd of wild beasts; —indeed they wore but
such—sprang through the wide-op en gate,
with a concentrated yelk that made us shud
der. The horses plunged and reared as if
maddened with affright. But we were all
—dogs, horses, man —put on our mettle, and
were soon iii the open fields and at full speed
on our headlong chase.
Never, in all my experience before or since,
did I witness such a tremendous burst as that.
Never' saw anything like the pace, Never
felt anything like the sensation. Away we
went, men and beasts. The dogs ran should
or to shoulder, not a foot of space dividing
one from the rest. They required no guid
ance or control. They were never q moment
at fault. They were in full cry from first to
last. The riding was teriffio, but splendid.
The most torpid pulse, the most sluggish blood
would have throbbed and boiled to have wit
nessed, not to say shared in, such a scene.
We were eleven in all ( all capitally mounted
for our several weights, Every man was
well horsed ; every horse well manned. The
field was prime—and the game I where and
what is it ? I verily believe, shocking as it is
to say it, that in two minutes from the start
no one thought of that, until the first check
brought us a little to our senses.
Within less than a mile of the house, after
> having cleared some desparate leaps, we came
1 to a troiit stream, not wide, and easy
- banks. A moment’s pause took place. God
i roon had evidently crossed safely, but was
i not to bo seen beyond. Everybody looked
i .forward towards the path, _ a weed-covered
• mound, with a few straggling elm trees on
i the top. . The dogs seemed for an instant
puzzled—and both master and men exohang-,
ed words of surprise and anxiety, for it was
plain that the too daring’ “ drag” had not ta
ken the direct course for the shelter designat
ed for him by the Squire ; but had deviated
,'to the right or left beyond the water to give
additional time for “ the sport,” as he said he
would. Looking round me I saw a riderless
horse galloping about. I had no time to nsk
for the owner, for one of the leading dogs eith
er sniffing the scent across the stream, or fol
lowing some instinotawfully like reason, which
told that the "blood-stained feet must have
passed to the other side, dashed into the wa
,ter, followed by all the others, and they were
in a minute on the opposite bank again in
full cry.
We all had a fair start and a large majority
went cleverly over. The Squire's horse seem
ed to go on invisible wings, so beautifully
did the rider lift him through the air. 1
turned round my head and saw two of our
party splashing in the water. Who were
they ? What matter ? “ Hark forward 1"
and away we went into a rather thick copse
on the right. “ Heavens 1” cried some one,
“ should the poor fellow have stumbled and
fallen into the tangled cover ?” A fright
ful chance, for he would have surely been torn
to pieces before any.of could us have come close
up with the blood-hounds. But we struggled ■
through, the dogs invisible in the brushwood,
but their music leading us on. While they
doubled and seemed baffled in the intricate
covert, Qodroon had gallantly worked his
way through it, gaining time by many turns,
like a close-pressed hare, and we all gave a
shout of joy and encouragement as we marked
him through an opening at an easy canter on
the rising ground leading up towards the
path.
He out soma frolicsome capers, looked
quite fresh and at ease with himself, like a
man who had done his work well; and he
quietly stepped on towards the path, where
he paused, looked round him, and thqn de
libertly Qlimed into a tree, prepared to survey
and enjoy the progress of the hunt and the
performances of tho’ huntsmen. “He’s all
right," "‘safe and; sound," '"‘thank God!"
and other exclamations of satisfaction broke
from several as we got well out of the thicket
and galloped on after the dog, now flying des
perately close on the scent again, and running
JikQ' the wind. 'I and all ttye rest had our
eyes fixed while we rode on, as the blood-red
figure, of Godroon straddle-legged on the
branch which moved flexibly up and down at
bis motion, and seemed to keep time with the
chorus of the pack. Suddenly we were
shocked on seeing the branch snap and break
right across between the trunk of the tree
and Godroon, and down he fell to the ground
and rolled bodily over the other side of the
path,, being instantly lost to our view.
"What cared blood-hounds ? View or no
view was all the same to them. They, like
sailors steering by the needle, had unerring;
scent of their, unseen victim on grass and
bramble, weed and shrub, and onward they
went always in deep, full ory. And on we
pushed with whip and spur, atom- horses’ ut
most speed, to gain the top of the path and
cross it in good time, if possible, to save the
poor fellow before his savage pursuers could
consumate his now almost apparent doom.
The dogs wore first on the summit; and still,
yelling in fearful harmony they seemed to
drop over in a compact mass to the far off side
of the mound before we could gain the top.
What a terrible few minutes of suspense it
was, and with what dread we -strained our
eyes forward when we got fairly up, except
ing to sec the blood-hounds tearing the mangl
ed body of what we now felt to be our victim,
as well as thatofthe ferocious beasts. Great
and indescribable was our joy—l am sure wo
all felt alike .to mark the crimson fugitive
bounding along still hundred of yards in ad
vance ; but every action showed that he was
now running for his life with almost super-'
..human speed. \ .
To the right and loft and before him there
was not a vestige of shelter to be soon, a bleak
common covered with light grass, here and
there a tuft of rank herbage, and largo blocks'
of stone as if thrown at" random-about— j
was the dreary and despairing p::ospect,.
Poor Godroon seemed to feel the horror of his
situation, for his head was' frequently turned
back, to measure no doubt the decreasing dis
tance between him and us.’ Ho was going
straight in the,direction of Slievenambra—the
only object rising from the wide-spread plain,
and offering the only possible chance of escape,
could he hold his breath arid keep up the rapid
pace for a mile or mire further. The hordes
scrambled with groat, difficulty, through the
scattered blocks and over the many crevices
which now broke the ground. There were two
op three heavy falls of beasts and men. The
dogs gained on us every moment, .
We. di4 : our best to keep steady hands apd
holdourhorscs well up; and the field,” now
reduced to seven, formed a gloomy contrast
in their silent anxiety to the bounding elas
ticity of spirit with which men follow hounds
who are hunting natural game. A couple of
haros sprang,Up before tho dogs. We hoped
this might have turned them aside, changing
the scent. They never seemed to heed them
more than a well bred setter would heed a
lork, with a pack of grouso_ or a running
oovOy of partridges' ■ hclore him. Our dogs*
required a higher flavor. ■ Blood, blood was
their only instinct. At, God ron u.\ rn ri
sing the rugged base of the mountain, tho
dogs closing fast on liira, and wd iii uttbr des
pair of pqshing our horses up through the
crags in anything like time to drive thorn
off, “Ho’ll do it?. Tho witch’s tree will
save him I” said'the Squire to Keerayaii, in a
confident tone. “ How will the craytqre over
olimb the trunk without a soreed of bark on
it?” asked the huntsman, with a gloomy look.
“He’ll scramble up somehow—life,is sweet,
and strength and activity can do anything,”
replied the Squire, as we still worked our
way.
But the moaning of these observations was
lost on me, for I had never than soon' the lo
cality I described in my opening sketch.—
The next change in the scone was Godrooii’s
gaining the summit, and rushing over it and
out of our sight without a moment’s pause.
“ This way, your honor, this way,” shouted
Sharaus Bawn, beckoning with his whip to
wards a patch of green sward running like a'
narrow ribbon up the rooky pass, and allow
ing us to gallop one by one with rather great
er speed than the dogs, who followed steadily
Godroon’s windings through the obstructing
crags. Had ho discovered the smoother path
which the whipper-in struck upon, they
would have infallibly caught him up, even
before they did; on such comparatively easy
ground. We gained the summit, and at a
couple of hundred yards distance caught a
view of the lake, the blasted tree, and God
roon making fruitless efforts to climb to the
overhanging branches.
There’was not h notch or knot, or the least
projecting thing to give place for even one
foot to rest: on; and he only slipped down .
gain and again after every attempt to cling
o the worn . and wasted trunk. We were
now all, horses, men and dogs, pell-mell to
gether , rushing at full speed towards him,
the blood-hounds roaring with incredible fu
ry, having the victim almost in their fangs,
we all shifuting to him, “the water! the
water! Plunge in, plunge in 1 ” “Oh God!
He can’t swim a stroke,” exclaimed the Squire ;
in agony.. And wo all in this supreme mo
ment dashed among the dogs, Striving to
ride them down or batter them to death with
our hammer-handled whips. They were ac
tually on him. Ha turned round and round
bewildered, and giving himself up for lost. —■
It was a frightful spectacle..
My eyes closed—and when they opened
again convulsively, I saw the desperate wretch
with maniac bound fling himself into the lake.
In an instant every one of the ravenous dogs
not disabled by our blows leaped in after him
—and riders and horses all were as quickly
in the waves—into which the commotion
lashed the liquid depth, I cannot now accu
rately, for I did not then, clearly comprehend
the. final close of this drama. Reason was in
abeyance, every qne acted upon impulse. It
all tended one way—to recover the body, be
fore the hideous animals tore it limb from limb.
The efforts of same, or all, I know not how it
was, were successful. The dogs were beaten
and baffled, and forced to loose hold of the
prey they no doubt thought they had earned
a right to devour. The dripping form of the
disfigured “drag,” the gory stains half-washed
from the clothes, was lifted up on the horse
of the whipper-in, who held it nearly upright
before the saddle.
"We urged on our animals to a fast walk,
looks of awe on every face, and not n wqcd ut
tered by any one, we made our way to the
narrow path by which wo had moqqted.—-•
There never was a more hprror-struck process
sion, the water streaming down fronq each
man, and the blood curdling in every vein.—
Towards the base of the mountain we were
met by several of the stable and kennel men,
with a light cart, carrying the leather coup
lings, chains, and muzzles of the odious dogs,
who now sneaked beside or after us, crest
fallen, hungry and vindictive, their blood-shot
eyes and an occasional dismal growl speak
ing their angry discontent. A halt was com
manded by the Squire. Sharaiis and one of
the now comers lifted the senseless form—a
harrowing sight—from the liorso in the cart.
“Qh, murthor, murthor IV cried Shamus, in a
tone of terror j; “itVgroiming, sir, it’s'groan
ing !" The Squire pressed forward. “Five
“OUR COUNTRY—MAT IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT, RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY^-
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 90, 1861
pounds for you, Sharons, if you speak truth !’’
said he, “ft’s true .enough 1” exclaimed Keo
ravan, with less agitation. “He’s moving 1”
“Ton pounds for yoh. Kceravan, for the nows.
Stand back, boys, give him air. Yes, God be
thanked, he’s still alive I” “Alive,” echoed
every voice ; and every heart throbbed wildly
at the. word. And- it. was indeed so. And'
recovery was.lndispntable and magically quick.
The wild opening of the lids—the wandering
and. still .'gaze, the nervous me
ntion of tho lips, the balf-oboked.utterance of
the first words, the; spasmodic flinging up of
the arms,, the clasped hands, the upturned
eyes—what a picture for the memory to dwell'
on 1 How long did this awful man-hunt with
blood hounds last ? What time' was con
sumed from the start Until what was so near
being the—death? ' T know not. Very.brief
no doubt in the run ( but well I recollect that
the fearliil course appeared at the time os
' though it had b.n an ago. And now, in re
tracing it here, it;rripdly and with a flying
pen, it passes at once before me like a light
ning flash. '
We were soon housed at Enpckdorrig, and
reveling in the delight of warm baths, dry
clothed,, roaring tires, qhd such a breakfast 1
Nr.inre would assert its'rights, and appetite
came widly back for “its own.” Wo all felt
that we had passed through a great exploit—
nothing heroic in it—'but a feat perhaps with
out a parallel. And it was so beautiful to 1
see poor resuscitated Oodroon, so nearly sac
rificed for our mad pleasure, clean washed,
well dressed—smiling languidly and kindly,
—I might say forgivingly on os, though we
had not in our revelry.meant-, him any harm
—that I think after all the scone Was worth
going through, remembering arid recording.,
When hunger was apijpasod, and every duty
performed to the chiohLactor and tjie subor
dinate attendants, by ft not ungenerous sub*,
aoription, either in cash or in promises sure
to be fulfilled, the Squire in his most impres
sive manner addressed ns. '
“Gentlemen,” said Jf'o, with some few other
phrases which I forget,, "we have escaped a
greaterimo. Had that poor fellow perished,
I had been assuredly aV murderer, and ali of
you, by ray instigation, accessaries in the fact.
I don’t know ho v the law might have dealt
with us, for though there was no malice pre
pense there was certainly folly aforethought,
and many a viplationj'pf right is committed
under the excuse of want of reflection. How
ever,' it is over- -and ,\to have 'had a groat es-
cape. Only one'act of
and humanity remains
sure you all hate .those
strange infatuation mi
West Indies to lead yfj
tion. Don’t you hate
dous chorus of “Tea 1 i
j question., "They ore no use on the face of
this earth,” continued the Squire. “The
.money they coat nio for a more whim has been
quite thrown away.” j ' ' .
"The fow limes I went out. with some _ of
them before this led mo in
to 1 a .Croat 'xjustJ.ha.! waa:,(iot>d;
sport. It was'vcvy. —.and such as it
■ V wan, it was a now pVaasme. Godroon was BO'
i paotivo, ao prudent, .and.so lucky on those ocs
casi.ons, that the run from hero to the path was
i but a joke. I never dreampt of a breaking
, branch, nor he neither. Yet you see on how
• little the life.of a man depends aiid an ago of
remorse 1 Gentlemen, we have all had a
great escape. Now come with me to the ken
nel yonder, and bo witnesses to the boStqtone.
ment I can make for what is past, aqd.tlio
besfsecurity I can give for the future. Are
the pjuns all loaded?” “They are, your hon-.
or with two bullets in every barrel,’’said'lieof
van. All right I Wheel me out.”.
And out he. was wheeled accordingly, and
out we all went along with him ; and in five
minutes a volley from the united force of
the household (except Godroon, who said “ ho
hadno malioo against the poor bastes”) laid
the whole pack dead on the kennel floor, with
the exception of one which was killed by a
blow from a whip handle, and another that
was; strangled by what poor Godroon de
clared he thought was his own death grasp,
in the late of Moonavallah. When we wore
all mounted, and taking our leave of Knbok
dorrig, a couple of hours later, the last Words
our most strangely ..eccentric, and very re
markable host, were, " God bless yo all, my
good friends 1 and remember I now reckon
on ye all, aq men of honor and gentlemen—
without asking any pledge—not to mention
to any one a hintofthis adventureby word of
month or by pen. forfive years from tills day.”
We all solemnly promised, and I hope every
one kopt.his word. I have at any rate kept
mine ; for it is only now—exactly forty years
beyond the five to which my discretion was
limited—that I have first narrated this in
stance of the wild sports of Ireland, in what
was comparatively the olden time,
Bill Hanson ; or (he Worst Boy
“ Bill Unnson,” as ho was called, was the
worst boy in school, and, in fact, in the
whole town j so his teacher said, and not a
day passed but that she found something .for
which to punish him. The last day of
school had come, and Bill declared he never
would enter the school house again, and wont
home muttering throats against his teacher
and everybody else. But Bill was not a had
boy at heart, as my readers will soon sea.
For n number of years past the 5c,,00l had
been kept by a lady whose mode of teaching
was rather antiquated, and who believed,
with Solomon, “ that sparing the rod spoils
the child and as she was not thought very
highly of by either old or young, it was pro
posed to make a change the following term.
But it made no difference with Bill, “for,"’
said he, “ they are all alike; and no natter
how hard a follow tries to mind, they will
find something to ferqle him for. So he
passed the vacation, as usual, cutting capers,
and troubling the neighbors in general.
Saturday before the summer term commenc
ed, ho tfss passing by Beacon Grants, and
happening to look up into a tree by the fence,
he espied - a bird nest qnd climbed up to get
it. The now school teacher had arrived that
morning; her name was Miss Maynard,
Seeing Bill through the window, she in
quired, “jf bP Wfi 3 to b.e quo pf l)Qr sohol
qrq ?” , - ; ‘
Yob,” replied Mrs. Grant, H and ho is
the most troublesome boy in tl;o whole .vil
lage ; I don't envy you being his teacher.”
Miss Maynard made no reply, but went
out into the garden, as if tqgathor some
flowers. Bill saw her, bqt remained standing
upon the fence, eyeing her with a curious
look. She walked slowly down the path,
and finally stopped by Bill, and said, with a
pleasant smile, "What are you looking for,
little bov 1”
“ A birds nest,” bo said, making a motion
as if to climb tlio tree, “ and I want to got the
eggs and thq nest." , . ,
“But don't you think it is wrong to take
awqy‘ the littte birds’ horgea ?■ tl*ey sing so.
(justice, and propriety,
jto bp fulfilled. I am
i diabolical dogs t.hat.;.
ide me import from the ,
ju. and mo into tomptr,-
thcra ?" Atremen
,lll all 1” followed the
A STORY FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS.
In School.
sweetly that I cannot bear to have them go
away.”
“I never thought about its being their
homes before,” ho said; “ but I won’t take
’em if you don’t wont mo to.” And ho look
ed pleasantly at Miss Maynard, for her kind
words had touched his heart.
“I don’t, lam sure,” she answered, “and
now toll mo-what your name is.” ■
“ They all coll me Bill Hanson.”
“ I do not like the name ‘•‘•Bill, so I will
coll you. Willie-; I think it a great deal pret
tier.: Have you a father:pr mother?” '
“ No, ma'am, I live with; thp Joneses down
hero, and I hate, 'em. all., for they thrash
me 'most every day,” and his eyes flashed
Are ns he spoke.
Miss Maynard took no,notice of his last re
mark, but said, “ I suppose jou are going to
to be one of my scholars, nr’n/t you ?”
“ X said last term/’ answered he, “that I
would not go to school any more, the teachci;
was so ofoss to- me ; but you speak so kind
to me, that I would like to come to you if you
will lot m,a; nf>. ono over spoke so pleasant,
to mo before.’'’' And tho ucw teacher thought
she saw a tear in ins, oyo.
*“< I do want you, to come,” said she, “and
now good-night. I shall expect to see you
bright and early Monday morning.” And
turning she went in,to. tne house, thinking
that Willie Ilanspp, lyas, not such, a very bad
boy- after all, ’ ■
Monday icoFnjng. oatpe, and the teacher,
thinking that she, would like to see the place
where she was to spend the summer, started
early for the school house.; but before she
had reached it, she heard a quick step .behind
her, and looking around she, saw Willie Han
son,, and sbo hardly kpew- hiirj. To be sure
ho wore the same ragged clothes, but his
face, which slip saw; him before was
covered with dirt, was now- washed clean,
and his cheeks looked fresh and rosy as an
apple; his hair was combed smoothly back,
and revealed a brow which no one would
have boon- ashamed to own.: And.his. eyes
sparkled, and a happy smile played around
his mouth, as Mbs Maynard said “ Good
morning;” and the approving look which
slipup' from her eyes fold him that she. had
po.ticed his improved appearance.
They reached the school house, aud - soon
after school began, and . before noon Miss
Maynard had become quite Well acquainted
with her little flock, But the other scholars
all w on dorod to see Willio ) for instead of
being, as usual, the worst boy in school, bo
hacj been this morning one of the bash And
thus it went on from day to day, the teacher
speaking and smiling ‘encouragement, and
the scholar prov’mg by his oouduot how much
ipflqonoa her kindly words had upon his
heart. One Friday .night he was walk
ing homo, when. Miss Maynard overtook him
aqd asked. '
‘■‘• Willie, woqld you not like to go to jbP
Sabbath school next Sunday?”
VI should like to go,” he said, ‘•‘• bat”
—-and ho looked down at his bare feet and;'
ragged liackot. Miss Mayaard noticed ft,
and said, “if you will go I will take your
jacket home and mend it for yoq, and tbop
wo will sec what can ho done for a pair of
■shoes.” ,
Willie looked the thanks ho could not speak,
and handed his coat to his teacher,.and turn
ing went toward home.
“My conscience, Miss Maynard, what
have you got there ?” exclaimed good Mrs.
Grant, ns the teacher entered the room with
! the Jacket in her hand.
“ Willie Hanson’s jacket,” said she, “and
I have come to see if you have some patches
that you will let me have to mend it.”
“ Vvhy, you can never mend that thing in
this world,” said the Denoc.i’s wife, arid the
Deacon himself- coming in at the moment,
said “ he thought it more fit for the rag bag
than anything else.”
! “ Well,” said Mrs. Grant, “ I wouldn’t try
to mend that, but now I think of it, there is
an old pair of pants and an old ooat that the
Deacon has cast off, and if you will help mo,
we will see if wo cannot get him up a now
suit to wear to church, you say you think he
will go."
Miss Maynard joyously gave her consent,
and was turning to go out, when the Deacon
said, “ You say that boy is doing better. If
I thought it would last, I would take him,
for I need a boy, and the Joneses would bo
glad to have him cpmo.”
" Oh,” said Miss Maynard, “ I know he
would he good, for he has been inv best boy
all the term, and I would not part with him
for the world ; do, Deacon, say you .will
take him,” and she looked so pleadingly into,
hie face that ho smiled and said “ he would
thinkotit.
The next morning Willlie came for his
jacket, but Miss Maynard told him she had
not got it quite done, and that he might
come again for it. As he was going out of
the yard, the Deacon called him hack and
said
“ I’vo heard that you aro getting to be n
good boy, “Bill,” and now I want to knmy
how you would like to come and live witjj
mo 7”
This was too much for Willie's already
softened heart, and with tears equraing down
his checks he said,
“Oh, Deacon Grant, yoij aro all so good
to mo that I don't know what jti say.”
“ Well,” said the old man, and his eyes
were not dry. “ you may go down and tell
Mrs. Jones, and oomo up tills afternoon.”
Willie turned away with a full heart, pon
dering what would come next, and before
night ho was in his future homo at the Dea
con's. The Deacon was away when Willie
came, so he brought in the wood, milked the
cows and spilt the kindlings, and when Mr.
Grant came homo the chores wore all done ;
he said nothing, but thought that Miss May
nard was right about the boy after all.
The noyt morning Mrs. Grant gave Willie
a towel, and told him to go out into the.shod
and give himself a good scrubbing, and pre
pare for church. Willie obeyed, and just ns
he commenced dressing, and was wondering
if his tqacher had got Ids jacket mended, ho
heard her sweet voice outside say : .
“Willie, you will fjnd your clothes just
by the door—make haste and dross, for I
want tq see how you look.”
Ho opened the door, and his bright blue
eyes glistened with astonishment and plea
sure as ho behold the nice jacket and trows
era, qnd the pure white shirt, with its plaited
linen bosom, which Mrs. Cjrant and l)is teach
er,' by working very busily, had succeeded
in finishing i and by the side of them was a
new pair of stoekings and shoos. The tears
flowed thick and fast while ho was dressing,
arid his heart was filled with gratitude to his
kind friends. When ho igado his appearance
there wore general rejoicings over him, for
ho was truly a handsome boy. ipul his now,
clothes improved his looks much ; and there
was a proud, happy look in Miss Maynard’s
eye when the “ worst boy in town” took his
seat in the Sabbath school. Weeks flow by,
and the school closed, and the Deacon, his
wife, and Willie are standing at the gate to
bid Miss Maynard “ good-bye." Willie’s, Ups
quiver, and tears stand in his’blue eyes, as
his loved teacher takes his hand to sny fare
well, and with a trembling voice he, tplls her
that she has bpen the moans pf saying him,
from ruin, and that ho shall "never forget the
one who has bpen his best friend. One more
shako of the hand, one more kindly smile and
look and Miss, Jlaynnrd was gone.
Let us pass over the space of twelve years,
and; on a quiet Sabbath morning let us enter
tbo phurch in the village of L : —, one of
our Western States. The second hymn is
sung, and the pastor arises and takes his
text frepn Ps’. xxx. 12, I will extol thee, 0
Lord, for thou hast lifted mo up, and hast
not made my foes to rejoice over me.” What
is there so strangly familiar about his looks ?
We look again, and—can it bo possible?
—yes, it is our .former friend Willie—now
Kcv. William Hanson, Then glancing
around, we see another familiar face, and
there sits Miss Maynard; there is the same
sweet expression, the same gentle blue eye,
that she possessed when Willie first know
her.
Yes, “Bill Hanson,” ho that was “the
worst boy in, .school,” is now, the beloved
pastor of his and teacher,_ Miss May
nard. ,
STIRRING ADDRESS
FROM
ftON. JAMES GUTHRIE,
‘THE CONSTITUTION AS IT
. / UNION AS.IT WAS.”
Ax AHXtsir HEcquMENDEn. as a War and,
I'iXaxcial Measure,
At the, celebration of Washington’s Birth
day at Louisville, Hon. James Guthrie spoke
as follows i . '
Fellow Citizens ; —You have just heard
the farewell Address of. Washington, This
' day it has been ipad in ail tfte pitiosand towns
of the loyal States, apd, we hope, in most of
the families of the country. It is the advice
ojf the wisest; purest and, therefore,. the great-,
est man recorded on the pages of history; the
General whaled ourarmies through theseven
longyeara of our revolutionary struggle; the
presiding oStcpr over the deliberations of the
patriots and sages of the Revolution, whilst
they, were forming the Constitution and Union
Under which wo have lived so prosperously ;
the Executive, chosen py the voice of a free
people to put the now Government in- force,
and who presided over its destiny for eight
years.
In this Farewell Address, many lessons of
wisdom are given for our future consideration
and action; and many of the and
hazards of the now Government WO pointed
out, and we are more earnestly besought to
avoid them. Prominent amongst thenv arc
party spirit and the indulgence of sectional
feelings and the inculcation of sectional prin
ciples. This day, when wo se,o wore than a
million of armed citizens in hostile away
against each other, and. drenching pie
land in blood, mid destroying cities, towns
and farms in wasting war, wo capnot hide
I‘iQm ourselves that the lessons of' wisdom
giyep to us by Washington have been forgot
ten oil sot at naught; that this has, to some
extent, grown from sectional principles and
attempt to sot aside the Constitution as to cer
tain provisions by onoseotion, and the wanton
acts of ambitious men on the other.
Jfow thpt citizen is armed against citizen,
brother against brother, father against son,
and son against father, we can fully appreci
ate Washington’s advice, and the blessings of
the Union and internal peace, which ho sought
to make perpetual. We have thought and felt
that the Constitution of this Union was laid ■
in wisdom and justice, and that to the Union
wo owed our progress and our groat prosperi
ty as a nation. We have revered the Consti
tution and rendered obedience to.the laws
made under it, and have loved our flag almost
to idolatry, as the emblem of our liberties and
our equal rights. Wo have had no kings or
lords to worship, and have given our hearts
to the Constitution, the Union, and our Flag,
and feel that all are equal under its folds.—
May this day brine renewed devotion to the
Constitution, the Union, arid the Stars and
Stripes!
I Itavo-always thought and felt that the
judgement and hearts of the people wore for
the Constitution, the Union, nmj thp flag, as
our fathers made them.
It is true, wo saw path amazement that
there wore some in the North whohqd taught
themselves, and wished to teftch'others, to ab
hor the Constituting, and proclaimed it a cov
enant with hell j and others in the South who
denounced its action ns unjust and oppres
sive, aqc| sdqght to pinko others think the
same. These men looked to a separation of
the States, apd the establishment of an Em
pire they could rule.
Insigriilioa it in the beginning, by perse
vering ' efforts these two parties North and
South have grown in strength, and this civil
war is the result. But now the hearts and
.oolings of the mighty moss of the people ore
aroused to the consequence, and wo see 600,-
000 armed men marching with banners to the
restoration of the Constitution and the Union.
They are the conservative men of the country,
and are determined to sucoed, and the hearts
of the people go with them. If some of the
North have bocorpo insane and taught thom
aelyfis to believe the world is governed by one
idea, and that they are thp missionaries sent
by heavon to dominate over others; and if
some of tbp South have become insane and
made themselves ijoliovo tliqt they were born
to rule qnd.reign over another empire, wo are
not bound to yipld our Constitution, our Union,
our equal lavvaj our eqijal rights and ourglorl
ous flag, to' the insane desires of one or both.
They have both proven potent for evil, I
have always felt ft was far easier to restore
the Union than to agree upon the torn)* of
separation and the line of division, i*he
great Northwest can never consent that the
mouth of the Mississippi and the Southern
porta should bo within the bounds of a foreign
nation, and Kentucky and other internal
States can never consent to bo the Border
States of adjoining confederacies, and cqnsti
tuto themselves outposts for the defence and 1
protection of the interior, nqr/wjjl tljcy sub- 1
mit to numerous collection districts, to tfye '
system of permits and pqssps, nor bo taxed in
their outgoings and incomings. They have
had free trade between the States and are de
termined still to Invve it.
I have si}id oqr army'is conservative, and
marches to restore the Constitution and the.
Uqion. fills ivnqy is a wonderful creation of
sdmo seven months, and lies the discipline of
veterans, and in recent actions has dis
played a tenacity of purpose equal to the
most reliable soldiers of history. I havo con
fidence in them and in their leaders, and have
not been impatient that they did not march
to battle earlier. I have been surprised that
they marched on such roads and through suoh
j weather, and gained such gloclqqs victories.
I havo wished the war carried bn upon the
I most elevated, principles of Christian human-
| ity, and fully up to the highest civilization of
tho uga. I would have our armies strike
boldly and firmly, with heart and soiil, for tho
Constitution and Union as our fathers mode
them, but without any wanton destruction of
human, life or of property, public, or,private;
and when the battle is over, the wounded, tho
I dead, and also the prisoners, should bo cared
for as becomes a Christian and civilized peo
ple. ' . r . ,1
This day, if the power was with me,'an am
nesty and tree pardon would bo proclaimed
to all, whether in anna or, not, who in a pre
scribed time give up their arms and the Koh
el cause, acknowledge, the supremacy of the
Constitution and tho laws, and agree to'sub
mit to them.
I am asked what I would do with the lead
ers : I reply, I would leave them to the'tribu
nal and this- punishment prescribed by tho
laws they have violated, hut I am, for the l lar
gest forgiveness consistent with the restora
tion of the Constitution and tho safety of .tho
Union. A.ll are, not leaders in this rebellion
who have acted ns its noisy champions, through
tho press or on tho stump, or filled high pla
cos.in tho strife. .
My policy would embrace all who are re
?entant, Ifistory records that the Jews, the
avbrod nation ot the Almighty, again and
again resisted his sacred laws, and were again
chastised for. their rebellious acta. The scheme
of salvation tender our holy, religion is based
on repentance. • When God forgives the re
pentp,nt.sinner, shall not man forgive his re
pentant follow man ?• L,et us not be too ex
acting. Let us remember that wa are but
human. The great, truth shotfld be present
with us, that
"I'd err, ip hum,an ; to forgive, divine.”
This is thp teaching of God’s truth*' The
people' often rebe,Ue<i against Jfehovnb, butUe-i
hovah lumsolf forgave the repentant sinner.
This is the lesson of the Christian
As we expect forgiveness for our offenses, we
forgive. If these misguided men, who
have takpn up q-ms again: t tho best Govern
ment ever seen, repent and cbme back to.their
allegiance, let us reepive them, and show the
goodness and the power of the nation In its
power to forgive. Those who repent'of this
rebellion, if pardoned, will pot go wholly un
punished; They will have to bear thbhurden.
of oonspidus guilt, the reproaches those they
have blighted, mpde widows apd cgiphana
and causes! to, ni|durn, apd tbe mistrust thp|
accompany them to the grave,.
I would declare this amnesty and pardon
as a war measure. It may. draw thousands
who fool tliat rebellion ia uot a remedy foi; ex
isting qr supposed evils, and are earnestly
and hopefully awaiting to osoape,; ps Yam as
possible, from the consequences of their lapts.
I would open tho door,for them. Many, of
the acceded States have nlwnya bpon for, the
Uaio.d, and : only' await the time they may safe-;
ly take ground fop it, • 1 !
il would doolaro the amnesty and n.ardon, as
a financial measure, as a measure of economy
in this moat expensive and wasteful civil war,
I believe it would apt promptly, in the . rested
ration of the pqustitutiop and the Union, and
be move'effective i’n restoring the Union than
the' iqo.st signal victories bur armies have ot
shall obtain, If it shorten the war but Ijfty
or one hundred days, it would save to tho na
tian more than ten times the value of aU thq
estates you could possibly confiscate in pocor
danoe with tjio Constitution. ’ ;
You cannot confiscate the: estates of nop-;
combatants; the old men, the widows,, thoor;
I phans, the insane or the imbecile, frohi what
[ ever cause, ere but of the reach of tlib 'mo'st
inveterate enemies of the rebellion', Wo ought
not to waste and destroy the property of those
whom wo dqu’t intend to punish as I’obels.—-
Their estates ope a part of the . fixed capital
of the nation, and we want it as a part of too
national capital to increase the annual pro
duction of tho country, to meet tho unuSual
taxation that mpst go with this war, andfollow
it form anyyears. I have spoken of and consid
ered theoo-rostorntion of tho Constitution and
tho Union as a fixed fact, and have tho fflost
perfect convictions of it. Yet wo have diifi
culties to encounter. •b: .-
The worst enemies of .the Constitution are
those whose constant ory is for tho blood of
tho Rebels, and the confiscation of -their es
tates, with thq emancipation of tho slaves, and
who, to reach their purposes, would; traniple
tho Constitution, the rights of property 1 , and
tho principles of humanity under foot, and
blast forever the prosperity of tho, nation.—
Such men prupoS'od to establish, through Con
gressional action, provisional government over .
the seceded States. ’ ' '
lam glad tob'ea our Union armies advan-
oing, although the weather is bad and the
roads almost impassable, and I hope they will
now strike heavy and quick. We want no
provisional governments in the States under
Congressional action. The Union sentiment
is strung enough in Tennessee, and I believe
will bo strong enough in all the Seoe’ded
States when supported by the Union armies,
to take, possession of the State governments
and bring them again under the fold of the
Constitution. There can be no fear about'the
supremacy of the Union sentiment ifi'tKoeq
States. '
There is sound logic and convinoing- elq
quenee in the material force of ouf Union ar
mies. Do not be surprised, ns the armies'ad
advanco, to find that the work of restoration
is more prompt and decisive than „the work
of secession, and far more unanimous, Ken
tucky had no heart for this oivil war. Shq
thought and felt that it ought not to have
and hoped her voice for peqce would be hoard.
When she found that hone was vain, she gir
rded on hop armor and determined to strike
for the Constitution, the Union, and the flag.
I Cast in the field, she wants to bo first in the
( woi kof restoration. I have felt and hoped
with Kentucky, and my heart and judgement
are still with tier. ■
If Congress is prompt and efficient in ac
tion, with efficient aid from the Executive De?
pertinent,,! see no reason why the Constitu
tion and the Union may not ho restored with
in tho next ninety or one hundred days, and
more than half this immense army returned
to their peaceful homes and their usual in
dustrial pursuits. May God grant this, find
give us peace and a happy reunion, and,ena
ble us and our children, and out children’s
children, whenever this day shall return,! for
coming centuries, to appreciate and got in- ac
cordance with the farewell advice of Wash
ington, and make those who have engaged in
this civil war and those who have sympa
thised with them, and their posterity* as loyal
to the Constitution, the Union and tho laws
qs Washington, himself, and cause the ene
mies of tho Constitution and tho Union to! be
come the friends of both. . ;
O’' Who finds nil tho umbrellas that every-;
body loses? Every man we meet-loses the
umbrella lie buys, hut we have never got ao;
quaintod with tho man that finds them, Can
anyone answer the question before the next
rain ? - • ■' -
O' What is more beautiful and poetical
than tho child's idea of icq. “.Tfater gone tq
Sleep.”- ' " "
NO, 41, ;