VOL. 49. American VOLUNTEER. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING BY JOHN B. BRATTON. T E 11 M S grßScnii’TiOtf.— Onb'Dollap and Fifty Cents, paid in advance; Two Dollars if paid within the year; and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid within tho year. Those terras will ]bo rigidly adhorod to in «rcry instance. No subscription discontinued until all arrearages are paid unless, at the option of tho Edihr. , Advertisements— Accompanied by thocAsir, and sot exceeding one square, will bo inserted throe tl mi a for One Dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional insertion. Those of a greater length in proportion. Jou-PiiiNTiNQ —Such rs Hand-bills, Posting.bill?, Pamphlets, Blauks, Labels, Ac. Ac., oxcculod with accuracy and at tho shortest notice.' ffoetkffl. [From tho Columbia Spy,] BY TUB. WILD SIU-SHOBE, Alono I walked, by tho wild soa shore, Where tho billows bad burnished tho, silver floor. * Ami I paused by' the spot in tho lonely glade. Where tho holly and pine casfctheir mournful shade; Ami a sombre'feeling came o'er mo thero. ~ Arl sat in that last abode of men, [more, •.vhilst a strange woird' group—some twenty •or Were digging graves by tho wild sea shore. - Here, on tbo face of their native soil, Tbo enrolpss negroes cheerfully toil, ■ With of mirth, and shout and song. They lighten their labor the whole day long. Ami oft they pease .'ncath.thc-sun's fierce glow. To brifsh the sweat from,each swarthy brow ; Yet light is the task (their servitude o.’cr,) Ibis digging of graves by.the'wild sea shore. Tbo trains have come, and rites begin—. " How rudely they jostld-tbo coffins in I Xo service is road,, no prayer is told,' lint o’er each bosom the sand is ; rolled; Xo marble is planted, nor line to. show The story of those who sleep below; . Hut the spades are shouldered, the work is o'er— Aud-twenby now graves murk the wild seashore. And thus ench day, by the pine's dark shade, Swiftly tbo grave diggers, ply tbo spado ; Ami the trains come down froin morn tillnighl With those who foil in the bloody fight. Hero friend and fob have a common lot— Hank and distinction alike forgot— Onoonrth receives and one sky bends o'er, And the dead.are alike on the wild sea shore, Overthe narrow nock of land' Arc scattered the graves on every baud j Hirgo-bhanting-wavca on oast and west, [breast; Whilst the pines; stand guard aVp the sleeping Andatcarly noon and at sot of. sun 'Freni'tlio fort bombs forth the thunder-gun ; But unheard are the waves and the cannon's rear, By those who sloop by thp r/ild sea shore. And etill in the future the 1 sea shall How, And the ships' from afar shall conio.and go, jAnlo’or its prey tbo sea gnlla scream,, Were .tbo fisher repairs the broken seaipl, Thtsnpwy.sands bn thb atr>rm-wincls drift *“‘••f'pines t hoi r forms elmU v But departed each trace forever more, ' ' Offod graves (bat.iptvrkpd the .wild Bp#Bbdrb, M turned from the scone with a saddened hear! /.’'niil, “ Ob ! why Will proud-igen depart From the gagred paths of truth nnd right, To challenge his hrathor in deadly fight? Ambition and power, whoso fearful.cost Ih «;urcukoncd till all is gained or Iqat 1 . Oh 1 yo who would yearn lor that goal no more, 06 stand.hy those graves on tlio wild sea shore I” ■And a time worn truth J bad oft hoard told, Came back again in this proverb old, [riod-p- MX thought of those forms unto earth thus- bur- “though we arehorn, »ye are not yet burned!* Wlmn Death hath his unerring aim )low worthless is Glory ! lm>? empty’Fame ! - Wo would barter earth's laurels many times o'er, Rather than cross to that shadowy shore, And I saw a? I wont on my lonely way, . Through Fancy, a gUmpss of that nwftil day Wlion the World’s huge grave shall offer its dead. And the myriads rush with a mighty tread, When.soldier, nivillian, grave-digger—all f>bajl listen to answer the.trumpet’s call ' Of,Him who will swear that time is o’er, And’trepibling stand on Eternity’s shore. -Bka SiroiiK, May. 27, 1802.' ' Cavamust. -' ffltafellanwuia- A NIGHT OF TEAKS. BV GRACE GREERWOOD, Tho Eastern State Journal, published at White Plains, Now York, in copying the fol lowing touching story, gives the following account of the unfortunate subject of it: Years.”—, The tale bear- Wlll bo reftcl witl ! interest, es- we assure our readers that the • most l'i?r d fi nt ® o 6 narrative are true, al-- usuallv fhazy iuco,” as she was through ’ , we i'ave often seen wandering n( M ®? r ® eta of Chittenango, in the waa fL w v d ‘ 8 ° 9, ,n ‘hi« State; In 1832 *n old wnmnl'™ 0 w 5 saw 10r- She was then homnlno mn n, wandering abroad, houseless, aS C rie?s n t q T fortle f“ Th of her lips of tlmL u ‘ vo ofton hoard from the our boyhood n lf ant °, f tllß hints, an( l in ‘ ehadow of that Y a iio,yo shod a tear over the broken and whna ° D0 ’ w hoseheartliad been thrown by thJ had been over rator so curiously domila, n ° M WhlcU th ° nwv thought W °, re , mß mher her as floo tron. tl7e pr U o lc rof er „ dUy - Sll ° Would 'cross* or climb a fence to of the wo/, JPast him. Neither , Clr! ; ult round and ™usd over nicht if rliiTp 1 d Bl ° sta y in a her the same roof Pn^ 110 '* a ma h was un n> the alms house ;„ if,? ILtl,r “ ’ s he died York, 0 Jn •™ R diBon county, ffew Q ■ *'y boautifilf rmtim ‘Uf tlia ‘ ntopior of ‘‘lofttthorofmv i 3^o - N «w York, lived Poctablo farmer IT« n i°’ ‘ unoab ttnd rm ' -Lucy, a n™ b °| ’ 2 I . e J ~ld but two children o p two youn™ r / I,mOto ' n> “ nd Ellel} ' tbaa ‘ Btrfk?n g ly‘ m bfaT »«>•* !l? r observable fnn?, UtU ’ UQdor a ron,n bke serenity w/ rn „ 13 bepi °UBneas and sun j“ tu «, end y, tt heart'W? 1 i1 uu g loving.- Sho «. n °* OQ P O3fc capacity w l ic Blcl,ildhn‘?l f M rfln ? aT kablo from her a VOICO of thrilling BQd . “Se?a " aS f'b'bHllinnt antipode of b. Va of protUnesB° wno t aU i t^ ? ho » o P p «oga' b* o .own waydn n n mvo her ifrospensi a.n,!n. l iulgon y tfa t hil thm e 3 -i ftnll all times. W'i’ n S sister hml’n*!! woalc mot hor, and an to the ruin “ueonsciously contri- S‘ rka Mo for "oturo not at flrst ro horo, in a p A n „ ~a trUnB tl>: of generosity.- s< 'o dotoatablo „. 8 ; Bro ‘\ t , ur ® s ' is hoartlcss “Oto, ns m a ‘beautiful woman? Lucy possessed a fine intellect; and as lief parents were well retired New England ers, she and her sister were far bettor educat ed than other girls of lief situation, in the half-settled portion of the country) In those days many wore engaged in school teaching, fur the honor and pleasure which it afforded, rather than from necessity, Thus a few months previous to the commencement of our sketch, Lucy Dutton left fur the first time the firsido circle to take charge of a school some twenty miles from her native town. For some time her letters home were expressive only of the happy contentment which sprang from the consciousness of active usefulness, of receiving while imparting good., , , But.anon there came a change ; then were these records from homo characterised by fit ful dreams for dreary sadness ; indefinable hopes and fears seemed striving for a supre macy in the writer’s troubled heart. Lucy loved , but scarcely acknowledged it to her self, and knew not that she was loved. So, I for a long time that second birth of woman’s I nature was like a-warm sunrise struggling with the mist of morning. But one , day brought a letter which could hot soon bo for gotten in the homo of the absent one—a let ter traced by a hand that trembled.in sympa thy with,a heart tremulous with happiness. Buovhad been wooed and won, and she but awaited the parents' approval of her choice to become the betrothed of Edwin IV a man of excellent family and standing, in the town where she had been teaching. The father and mother recorded their sanctions with many blessings, and Buoy’s next letter' promised a speedy visit from the lovers. l ’To such a nature!' as Buoy’awhatan absorb ing, and yet what a revealing, of self la a first passion—what a prodigiality of greiving, what an incalculable wealth of receiving— what a breaking up is there of the deep wa ters of tha’soul, and haw ifeaven descends in a sudden star upon life. If there is a season when an angel may look with intense and fearful interest upon her mortal sister, ’tis when.' she beholds her heart pass from the bud-like innocence and freshness of girlhood, and taking to its very core the very light of love, glovy pud crimson into perfect woman hood, At last the plighted lovers came, and wel comes and festivities awaifing fhem. Mr. IV, gave entire satisfaction to father, mother, and even to the exacting “ beauty.” lie was a handsome man with' some pretentions to fasluop,' but in inntm.pr, and apparently in character,the. opposite of his betrothed, ft was decided that Bitcy should not leave home UUti| after her marriage, which at the request of her ardptit |over, was to be celebrated with in two months, and on the coming birth day of the bride. ■ It was therefore arranged that Ellen should return with Mr. IV. to M-—, and take charge of her sister’s school for the remainder of the term. The bridal bitth day had come. It had been ushered in by the rip|) mellow light of an October eun ; the busy hours had worn away, and now it was niolj mliifict, and neither, tho bridegroom nor Ellon, the . first bridesmaid, had appeared. Yet iu'Kor neat tittle chamber satßucy, noth ing fearing. She was already clad ia a sim ple white muslin, and a few bridal orna ; ments lay on the table by her side. Marta Allen, her ■ sppond bridesmaid, a bright-eyed, affectionate-hearted gir{, her cho sen friend from childhood, was-arranging Ifi a, more graceful fall of the wreathof light ringlets that swept her snowy neck. To the anxious inquiries of her companion respecting tho absent ones, Bucy smiled qui etly, and replied ; “ Oh, something has hap pened to detain- them awhilp ; we board from them the other day, and well. They will be here, by-aml-by, never fear,” Eve ntng canto, the guests were assembled, and yot tho bridegroom tarried, There were wis perings, surprises, and wontlerings, and a shadow of anxiety occasionally passed over tho fqir face of tho bride elect. At last a carriage drove rather slowly to the door v " They have corne l” cried many voices, and the next moment tho belated,- bri.legroom and Ellen entered.' In reply to the hurried and confused inquiries all around him, Mr. IV. muttered something about “ un avoidable delay,” and stopping to the side board, tossed of a glass of wine, another,-and another. The company stood silent with amazement. Finally a rough farmer ex claimed-” Better . late than never, young man—so load opt the bride.” Mr, IV. strode hastily across the room, placed himself by Ellcti, and took hep hand, in his. Then, without daring to meet the eye of any one about him, he-said : ”-I wish to make an ex planation. ■ I am under tho painful necessity —that is, I have the pleasure to announce that Jam already married I Xlig ludy whom I hold by the hand Is my wife !’’ Then turning in an apological manner to Mi-, and Mrs, Dutton, .he added, “ I found that I had never loved until I knew yourfeecond daugh I And Lucy ! She heard all with strange I calmness, and then watted steadily forward and confronted her betrayers. Terrible as pale Nomisos herself, she stood before them, and her look pierced like a cold blade into their false hearts. As if to. assure herself of the dread reality of the vision, she laid her I hand on, Ellen’s shoulder and Jot j't glide down her arm,, but slip touched not ijihvin I As those Cold fingers 'met her,s the unhappy I wife first gazed full into her. sister’s face, I and, as she marked', the ghastly palor of her cheek, the dilated nostrils and quivering lips, she covered her own face with her hands and hurst into tears, .while ; the. .young husband I.awed by the terrible silence of her )io had wrpngod,-gasped for. breath and staggered buck against the wall. Then Lucy clasping her hands upon her forehead, first gave voice to anguish and despair in one fearful cry which could not but wring forever through the souls of that guilty pair, and then fell in a death-like, swoon at their feet. ■ .“ After the ipsonsiblo girl had been remov ed to her chamber, a stormy scene ensued in the room beneath, The parents and guests W.ero alike enraged against W„ but the pray era and tears of.his youqg wife—the pcftoJ beauty and spoiled oliild—-at hist softened somewhat the anger of the parents, and an opportunity for an explanation was accorded to the o(landers, A sorry explanation ii. proved, : The gentleman affirmed that the first sight of Ellen’s loyolyfaoo had weakened the em pire of her plainer sister over bis affections. Frequent' interviews had completed, the conquest of. his loyalty; bat he had boon hold in ebook by honor, and never told his love till on his way to espouse anoth er ; in an unguarded moment ho revealed it abd.the avowel called forth »n answering ac knowledgment from Bllenr They bad thought it best m order to “save pain from Lucy ” and prevent Opposition from'her— and to's’e oute their own happiness— to bo married be fore they arrived at 0 , remained insensible for some hours.' i When she had revived and had' apparently I regained tier consciousness, she still maintain- i ed her strange silence. This continued ufatil' ( weeks lind passed away, and her friends saw with inexpressible grief that her reason had flod—sho was hopelessly insane. She- was as -gentle and:peaceable ns ever, but sighedifre quently, and seemed burdened witfn some great sorrow which she could not herself comprehend. She had one peculiarity, which all who knew_ her in after years must recol lect ; and this was a careful avoidance of men. She also seemed-' possessed by the spirit of unrest. She would, not be confined, but was continually escaping from her friends, and going they knew not whither. Whilelier parents lived, by their watchful care and. unwearying efforts, in some mea sure controlled this sad propensity , but when they difid, this stricken child became a wan derer, . homeless,, friendless and forlorn. Through the laughing spring and rosy sum mer, the golden autumn: and tempestuous winter, it was tramp, tramp, tramp,—no rest for her of the crushed heart and frozen brain, I remember her as she was in my early child hood, towards the last of her weary pilgrim age. As. my father and elder brothers were frequently absent, and as my mother never closed her heart or her door on the unfortu nate, “Crazy Luce” often spent,an hour dr two at our fireside. Her appearance was very singular. Her gown was always patched with many colors, and .her shawl or mantle worn or torn until it was all open-work and fringe. The remainder, of her miserable wardrobe she carried in a bundle, on her arm, and sometimes slt,o bad a number of old rags, dried herbs, &e. . Jn the season of flowers her. tatfered bon net was profusely decorated with those which she had gathered ip the wood op by the way aide. Her love for these, and her sweet voice was all that was left hep of the bloom and music of existence, Yet, no ! her meek and ■ohild-liko piety still lingered. Her God had i pot forsaken her j down in the dim chaos of her spirit, the smile of flis love yet gleamed faintly," in the waste garden of her heart ■'; l she si ill heard Ifis voice at eventide, and she was not afraid., Ifer Bible went with her ever-f-a torp and soiled volume,- bpt ns holy ! still, and it may be as dearly cherished, my readers, as the gorgeops copy now lying- on you.r table hound in purple and gold, and With the guildiuguntarnislibd upon its leaves, J remember to have hoard my mother fo late a touching incident connected with, one of Ijuoy’s brief Whs fops. Tiia poor crea ture onoo laid her bands oh the curly head of one of my and asked .him his name. “ AVilliani Edwin,” he replied with a timid, ppward glance. She caught away her hand, and sighing heavily said, “I knew an Edwin once, and ha iaade me broken hearted.” This was the only instance in which she was ever known to feverf to the sad event which had desolated her life, » » * Some thirty years from tho time of ; this history, on a bleak autumnal evening, a rough country wagon drove into tho village of G -• It stopped at an alms house ; an at tenuated foytt} was lifted' o,ftt find oaryxd Hi' and awgy rumbled the wagon. Thus was Lucy. Dutton brought to her native town to die. She had been in a decline for several months, and her mirflouldus strength which had so long sustained her in her weary wan dering, at last foorsook her utterly. Her sis 'cr had died some time before, and the wid owed husband had soon after removed to tho far west—so Lucy had no friends, no homo but the alms house. But they were very kind to (fer there. The Matron, a woman whose soft heart even Hie hourly contempla tion of hurpan misery could not harden gave herself with unwearying devotion to the quiet sufferer, With eyes of Christian faith, she Watched the shattered barque of that life, as borne down,the tide within it neared the greqt deep of etprpity, anxipus inter est, - One day about a week from the time of her arrival; Lucy appeared to suffer greatly, and those about her looked for her release almost impatiently j. but at night she was evidently better, and for tho first time slept trail quil unlij morping, .The Matron who was by her bedside whep she nyrok o . was startled by the clear iind' earnest gaze which met her own, but she smiled and bails the invalid “ good morning.” IfUoy looked bewildered, but the voice seemed to reassure her, and she ex claimed. . 1 VOh, what a lopg night this has bean.” - Then glancing arouml inquiringly, she ad ded. Where am I? and who are you ? I don’t know you 1” A wild surprise flashed across the mind of the Matron, the long lost reason of the wan derer had returned J But the goad woman re plied calmly and soothingly, " Why, you are among your friends, and you will know me present y." ,f Then may be you ki)OW Edwin and EL len,” rejoined the invalid, “have they re turned f Oh, I had such a terrible dream. I dreamed that they were married! To think—Ellen married to Edwin 1 'Tis strange .that I should dream that I’’ “ My poor-Lucy,” said the Matron with a gush of tears, “ t|i»t was not» dll true.” “All true ?" cried the invalid, “ then Ed; 1 must be untrue—- and that cannot he, for ho .loved mo—we'loved each other well and El len is my sister. Let me see them !” She en deavored to raise herself but fell back faint ing on the pillow, “ Why, what does this njcan f’f said she ; “ what makes mo so weak ?" Just then her eye fell on her own hand. She gazed up it iu blank astonishment, “ Some thing is tlio matter witli my sight," said she smiling fajptly, “for my hand looks to me like an old woman’s.” ■ “And so it is," said the Matron, gently, “ and so is'mino ; and yet we had fair plump hands when wo wore young. Dear Lucy, do you not know me ? t am Maria Allen; —l was tq haye been your bridesmaid 1" , I can narrate no m oro : I will not make the attempt to giyo in detail all that mourn ful revealing—to reduce to oppressive words the dread sublimity of that hoploss sorrow. To the wretched Lucy, the last thirty' years were as though they had not been. Of not an incident, had she tlfo slightest remembrance, sipce the night the recreant lover and the traitorous sister stood before her and made their terrible aqnounoomont, The kind matron paused frequently in the flad narrativ.q of her poor friend’s madness arid wanderings, but the invalid would say “ go on, go on,” though the leaden drops of qgony stood thick upon her forh.oad, When she asked for her sister, the Matron replied. " She bus gone before you, and your fath er also.’’ : . “And my mother?" said Lucy, her face lit pp with a sickly ray of hope, “ Your mother has been dead for twenty years." , ' “ Dead,l nil. gone 1 clone 1 old 1 dying ? Oh God,l my onp of bitterness is full 1" Arid she wept aloud. Her friends'bonding over b.s a jD d Ih'hgjiogpitying.tears .wjth hers, said affootionallyyßut you know who drank' that cup before you?" Lucy looked 1 up with “OUR COUNTRY-MAY JT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT, RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY." • CARLISLE, FA., THURSDAY, JULY 3, 1862, Americans are an inquisitive people, yet from the very necessity which this engenders, there is no person better understands, tho aft of parrying and baffling inquisillgmess in an other than a Yankee. \Fo were, quite, amused recently by an account given by : %|ity friend of a ooloquy which came off in aphuntry vil lage through, which hp was travollihg, between himself qnd one. of. the, “ natives,” who. mani fested pu Itqhipg to pry into, huj af fairs. ''. ■ ■' ‘ Uow 'do you do V\ exolaimcatbo latter, bustling up to him as ho alighted fora few. moments at a hotel,. ‘ JRooot) d’ve seen yap Tore now V ■ ■ : ' Oh,yes, was the answer of the Yankee ‘ho doubt; I have been there often in my life.’ '* Spoao you’re going to—*' (expecting the name and place to lie supplied.) ■ ‘Just so—l go there regularly once a year.’ . 'And you’ve come froin-rr’ . ‘Exactly, sir 5 you are exactly right; that is.my place of. residence.’ i Really, now, dew tell ; I ’sposo you’re a lawyer, or maybe a trader, or perhaps some ither perfeshup pr calling,’ ‘ Yes, I have always one jof ieso professions.’ ‘ Got business in the country,'eh ?’ ‘• Yes, } am at this time engaged in travel-: • I,see by ybpr trunk that yon'refrom Bos-; con. Anything stifring-in Bosto.n ‘ Yes ; men, women, horses atid carriages, a,nd a famous northeaster.’ [ng.’' * You don’t say so ? Well, I declare, how, you »re tarnal cate. What do you think they will do with Sims ?' , 1 r ‘ Why, it is my opinion that eith er deliver him up' to the claimant, or let him go free/ , " ‘ You've had a monstrous sight of rain in Boston—did am awful sight'of damage I sup pose ?’ y ,' ' ‘ Yep, it wot.alf tI)Q buildings and made the streets damp—very damp, indeed!’ ‘ Didn’t old Fanenil Hail get il'csoakin ?’ —'lilw Common, under the Liberty tree, ' ‘ You are a circus chap, I guess; you are kinderfoolin. Pray, Mister, if it’s a civil question what might your name be ?’ ", ‘ It might bo Smith or Brownj but it is not by a long chalk. The.faetis, sir, I never had a name, When I was born, my mother was. so busy that she forgot to name me, and soon after I was swapped away by mistake for an other boy, and am now just applying to the Legislature for a name. When J get it I will send you my curd. Good morning, sir.’ And so saying the speaker jumped into the carriage arid drove oil, leaving the Paul pry of the place scratching {ns head in bewilder-, ment, arid apparently in more perplexity than ere hp |iad commenced his cateehisings, .. * ' .* Lodge No, 227, under the jurisdiction ,of the Grand Lodge of Ireland, was attached by a traveling warrant which had been granted in the year 178?, to the 46th regiment of the British army,. wjiile serving in America du ring the war of the Revolution, The Lodge chest, qt ong tiiflo ( sqys the London freema son's Review, fell iflto the hands of the,Amer icans, and they reported the diroflrfla.tancos to. Geni Washington,'.-who .embraced! the oppoi tmiity lif testifying.his, estimation of Mason ry, in marked.and gratifying man ner, by directing .tjpitm guard.of honor, un der a distinguished officer, should take charge .qf the chest, with iflflny articles of.yq.lue be longing to.the 4Qth, and return them to the regiment. The surprise, the feeling of both officers and men, may bo imagined when they perceived the flag of tyfloo .thqt announced this elegant compliment from theiy noble oppo nent, but still more fluh.le brother, The guard of honor, with their flutes playing a sacred march—the chest, containing the Con stitution qnd implements of the Craft, born aloft, like another ark of tho covenant, equal- ly by Englishmen' and Americana, who, lately engaged in the strife of war, flow marched through the enfiladed rqfllys of. the gallant regiment,-that, with presented arms and color, hailed the glorious act by cheers, which the sentiment rendered scored qs the hallelujahs of an angel's song. . A similar courtesy was extended to this lodge on another and subsequent occasion.— In the year 1805, while in the island of Bouit iria, the 46th regiment was attacked by a French force, war at that time existing bo- •tween the governments of France and Great Britain ; and again the lodge had the misfor tune lo lose its chest, which was carried on board tho.Frenoh fleet, its cap - ore haying had go opportunity of discovering the nature of its contents. But, three years afterwards, when the character of the prize had heooipo kndwp, the JTronoh. government, at the ear nest recj'upst of ,tt) e offioofs who had comman ded the expedition, returned the chest, with several complimentary presents, as a tribute from an .enlightened option to the excellence and sacred character of the Jfasonio institu tion. ; , In 1834, the warrant or constitution of this lodge was renewed by-, the Grand Bodge of Ireland, on which occasion these interesting incidents in its history wpro elicited from the records. \ ■ Of the ultimate fate of a lodge .whoso vic issitudes. in war form so interesting a portion of the annals of free Masonry, it is fortu nate that we can furnish the history. The lodge became again dormant, but was revived on the 28th of Starch, 1847, and established jonganegtly in Montreal as “The Lodge of i Social and Military Virtues/ No. 327." ■ O" A modest old maid visiting, a newly married friend recently saw .her husband s shirt lying on the bod, exclaimed: “Oh, mercy, a man’s shirt on your bod r Such a thing on my.bod would give m° “ 10 nightmare 1" , , .. , “Very likely,"-responded the Wife. cn- Joss the man was in it." jjgy A' schoolmaster ip Ireland advertises that ho, will kpep Suhdoy school twice a WOok Tuesdays and Saturdays. a bewildered expression, and the Matron adt ded. “ The Lord Jesus Christ; you lememr her him?” A .look of sunlight breaking through a cloud—a look which only saints, may wear, irradiated the face of tho dying woman, as she replied : “ Oil yes, I know him and loved him before I fell asleep 1" The man of God was called—a few who had known Lucy in her younger days came also. There was much reverential wonder ing, and some weeping around her death-bed. Then rose the voice of prayer. At first Her lips moved, as her weak spirit joined in that fervent appenl ; and poor Lucy’s.'eyes wore closed in death 1 But those who,gazed upon that placid face and rememboreb.,her harm less life and her patient sufferijJg, doubted not that the morn of another otef ial day had broken on her Night op Years. ■ Puzzling a Yankee, - Tjie Courit(»y of Masonry. A Walk Over the BalUe-Field. The .Horrors of War—The Dead in Heaps— Ghastly■ Spectacle—Postures of the. Slain. Tho correspondent of tbe New York Ex press, from Fair Oak station, Juno 6th Inst., writes aa follows: I paid a visit to the battle-field of Saturday and Sunday, called by some the “Battle of the S.evon Fines,” this morning. The camp of Caseys’ division presented a sight which an artist might envy, and yet one of desola tion., All around lay charred ruins, clothing, guns, cartridge boxes, &c., the property main ly of our own troops, The whole camp was just as level as the Russ pavement on Broad way. Here it was where the enemy first made their first appearance on Saturday, and where they so badly drove back our mem— A little further on is a piece of woods, and by walking through water and mud knee deep, one is enabled to investigate its contents.— The bark of nearly every tree is peeled off to ward the roots, the rifle balls and canister fired into the forest by our men, hayirg ta ken down the trees about as lively as they did rebels. Letters, guns by the dozens, both Secesh and Union, clothing enough to start half the Catham street, in business, new made graves, yet unhurried bodies, pud all the minor indications of battle and death form one of the saddest scenes ever, witnessed on the Virginia Peninsula, In a swamp we found eight bodies ot Alabamians close, to gether, and. m such a state of decomposition that hardly a man saw them, without turning away his head. Their clothes were on, but the bodies were so swollen, that they fitted as tight as th.o skin itself. In several cases the ! flesh had already been eaten off by vermin I and the skull lay bare: It was a disgusting scene, which some people might have seen with profit, Rut, it ought to be added, that pur. people are hurrying the dead just as fast as they can reach the remains* . I savf ono body, which was evidently that of a rebel officer. His clothing rather better than that of a large majority we saw, and Other indications pf rank ere numerous. He lay concealed hphind some brush, and had evidently been. vyounded, sought ftp shelter and there died, Ifhe limbs were,contracted, hut on the face there seemed to rest a placid smile. One hand held on.to a rail fence pear by, while’the other was extended upon the earth. Like all the rest, the body was svyol len to, twice its natural size, and millions of vermin were fast devouring it. Calling some scouts, a grave was dug, and the decaying flesh was consigned to its last resting place. Another, body was found sitting on the ground, the hack braced, against a fence.— The skin was peeling off the hands, and hung down from the fingers in shreds. One hand rested on tho musket, whpse contents had been discharged. The head drooped to one side, and the features woro-fearfuliy Contrac ted, evidencing a dying struggle of a most painful nature. . , A curiosity seeker might have collected a buslio,. of letters,in these'weeds so full of hor rors, but I have not the heart tor tho task. To show how desperate was tho struggle in the heavy woods between Casey’s and Ward’s camp, I have spoken of tho bullet marks upon the trees, of tho-dead and of their effects, everywhere seen. Another indicafion was the clothing, yet hanging upon low tree, I branches, fences, and lying upon the ground. An officer engaged in the battle tells me that when-we pursued, on Sunday, the retreating rebels to tho woods through wbiohj on Satur day, they drove us, a desperate encounter en sued, ' ■ Hundreds of men, on both sides; throw off all their superfluous clpthing and went in, as wo were told the Sixty-ninth did at Bull Run, stripped almost to the waist, Those who had tWopportpnity, placed their coats whore they wopld b° ■ others, with no time fur that, threw the ground, and lostthem with their lives. , Within a space of two acres there are ungathored arms en ough to supply a New York militia regiment. In that small space nearly sis fapndred men were sent to tbP>? long account, ,’At Casey’s old camp there were no human bodies, as there it was an easy matter to dis pose of, tlipm immediately, alter the fight.—- But hundreds of horses, torn by shot and shell, lay all around", the carcasses emiting a pestilential steilch. On Sunday, when we tyere.agaiu iu_possosaipn of the field, men and animals, layjjlosely together—; ludef apd stood ip ono roil burial blont.” animals are now being burned, as that Tho ,3 the only way in which they can bo disposed of, and the borrhl effluvia removed from its close euntaej: with onrcamp. • Upon approach ing this spot, it require? considerable effort to load a man to walk up to it, the recking Oder being offensive. ■ To-morrow its condi tion will be favorable enough forro-ocoupa tion, In a direct railroad line from this camp to Richmond is just seven miles. .“Fair Oak” is the name of the station, A building near, the switch is now. used as a hospital, mainly for the rebel wounded, and right oppssite are the headquarters of Gen. Meagher- and his Irish brigade.. ■ Speaking of the hospital at this station re minds mo that our men yet Hud wounded rebels in the woods. Yesterday, two Or three were discovered under some brush. One had a leg amputated just below the knee, by a rebel doctor, who is with his companions; another had a foot taken off, and yet.another an arm. dVlfhout .conveniences for proper treatment, the operation seemed very harsh. The sufferers were seated upon a barrel, and hejd by a couple of men, submitted to .the painful treatment, AH around wore the am putated parts, and pools of blood. Seated against a tree near by was a rebel soldier, well clad in a suit ol Confederate gray, with a bullet hole in both cheeks. The missile had passed in on one side and came out upon the other. His face was besmeared with Clot ted gore, and owing to long neglect (the Fed erals hqd just foiinff him) it was impossible for him to articulate.! The very picture of misery, this unfortunate man sat propped against n tree, awaiting his turn for treat ment. On. blankets near by, wore half a dozen who had died during surgical opera tion. Others, pale and weak, looke(| aropnd them with a half frightened gaze, witnessing the work of their surgeons. Dozens of opr own men were at blind, and in silence saw the fate iff war, one wants to see but once, Tifß Smart Dixie Boy.—Onpp tljero was a t-tlo boy,' on-ly four years old Ifis name .■7)B Dix-y- His father’s narqo wa a I-aharp, and his mother's was AH-shait), Dix-y was very smlirt. ’ ffe could drink whis-key. fight chiok-ens, ploy pok-er, and cuss bis mother. — ■\yhon ho was only two years old he Could ' steal su gar, hook pre-sorvgs, drown jfit-tpns, and tdll lies like, a man. Dix-y died and went to the bad place. But tbs Dov-il would not lot Dix-y stay there, for ho said, “When you get big, Pix-y, you would bo head dey-il your.-, self." All little Rebels ought to be likq Dixy,! apd they will if they stud-y the Con-fed-er ato Prira-or, Making Fan of. Tliem. Tho Nashville Union has been “ having its littlo jokes at the expense of the diacpmfitted Seoesh of that city. The Union purports to review the “ Rev. U. M’Ferrin’s Confederate Primer,” and gives some choice extracts from its . ; pages. Tho Primer, after giving tho al phnbotdrv d.no form, offers some littlo rhymes for young Confederates, from which wo se lect a few samples;—; At Nashville’s fall We sinned all. At number Ten Wo sinned again Thy purse to rpend, Old Floyd attend, Aho Lincoln bold . .Our ports doth hold Jeff Davis tolls a lie, And so must you and L Bravo Pillow’s flight Is out of sight. • • ■' B. '■ B.uell doth play, And after-slay. Yon Oak will be tire gallows tree Of Richmond’s fallen majesty. ; iKo following are taken from'-the-Biogra phical Questions and Answers for. littlo chil dren Q—Who was the first man ? A—General Pillow; —because he was tho first to run p/?' from Fort Doholsou, ' Q—Wlio was tho strongest man? A—General Price, for you can smell him a mile. Q —Who the wisest,miin ? A—Governor Wise—for lie has that disoro ion which is the “ better .part of, valor.” Ouiuons . Mi.aaoa.—Among the curiosities exhibited gttlio last Paris Exposition, and pro mised for ours, was a huge concave mirror, tho instrutgenj ol § startling species of opti cal. magic, Qn standing close to the mirror, and broking into it, it presents nothing but a magnificent monstrous dissection of your own physioghonjy. Qa retiring a little, say a eoqplo.of feet, it gives your own fade and figure in true proportion, but reversed, the head downwards, ‘ Jjost ot tho spectators, ig , noranff of anything else, pbsei-ve these two £t -1 fects and pass on. But'retire still further.; ; standing at tho distance, of. five or six feet ‘ from the m.irror, and behold jpu see yourself, ’ not as' a reflection—it does not-strike you as , a reflection—but your veritable self, standing in the middle part between you and tho mir t ror. Tho effect is almost appalling from the _ idea it suggest of something supernatural; m, ■ startling, m'fact, that juory ' the ; nerves will shrink involuntarily at the -fipS' [ view. If you raise your cane to thrust It at . your other self, you will see it pass through the ' body and appearing on tho other side,.tho fig ure .thrusting it same instant. ■/ , K The aryst who first sucopded in finishing a mirror of, this description, brought it tp one of tho French kings—if we recollect, aright, it was Louis, XV—placed, his majesty on the right spot, and bade him draw his sword and thrust it at the figure he saw. The king did so ; but, seeing tho point of tho s,Word direct ed to his own breast, lip threw dpwn his weap on and ran away, -Tho practical joke cost the inventor the king’s patronage and favor-; his majesty being, afterwards sj/ashamed of his 1 own cowardice, that he could’never again look ' at tho mirror or its owner. —English Paper. 1 “Some lloss,”— O.ice oa a time a Yankee 1 who was traveling through Kentucky, had a fine horse and no money.- lie had taught the animal to lie down or sit: on his haunches when the bridle .was pulled pretty hard. Our traveler saw no way of replenishing his puree hut by selling his horse and this ho-resolved to dp. the first opportunity, As ho was.going slowly, along ho saw a hunter , at some dis tance from the road \yhqm ho rode up to and accosted. - In'tho' course of the conversation he told the latter he had an invaluably horse to sell—a horse.that would act precisely like a setter, when ho was. in. the vicinity ol game.. Casting his eyes around, at.tlie same time discovering some fresh-rabbit tracks, he gave the bridle a jerk, The. docile animal laydown'. ■ , ~ ■ ; “There are some rabbits here," said the rider. “I know by his oars;" The Kentuckian, curious to test the repu ted sagacity of the horse; searched around, and, sure enough,- started three or four rab bits. Ho was greatly surprised, but the Yan kee took the affair of course. Tomake along story short, the wonderful horse changed hands on the,spot, three hundred dollars be ing tb,e consideration. Ills new Owner moun ted him, and with characteristic hospitality, the Yankee agreed to accompany him home. They soon came to a stream which they had to cross, and which was rather deep for horse men. Judge of- the Kentuckian’s dismay when, on,Rpl|ing. the .bridle jn the middle ol the river, his steed subsided in the running waters as if he.was a hippopotamus. “How is this?” ho roared out, nothing but his head visible. The Yankee who was mounted on the hun ter’s other horso was not disconcerted in the least,-but replied coolly : “Oh IT forgot to; tell yon he is as good for i fish as for rabbits 1” I Temperance Beverage.— l have soon n number of receipts in your paper lately for making Sprqco Beer, but none meet my wishes; and as I have, been the recipient of a very good one, I forward it to you with a bottle of the samp, to see if you do not agree with pie in pronouncing it excellent. RECEIPT, 1 gallon of water, 1 quart good molasses, } ounce whole cloves, jounce white i ounce whole allspipo, j ounce sassafras. Boil all well. ‘I boil niine three hours.' After tnk ! ng it off the fife, pour it into a clean tub and add one and a half gallons of water. Jjet this stand till mill? wiirm, then add two tableapopps of bpker’p or brewer’s yeasf; then stand away in tl)o cellar or some cool place during the night, povpring ft with a towel to keep flies out, The next day it will bo fit for bottling. One or, two raisins, with a few holes punched in them with a fork, placed in each bottle, add greatly to its flavor. Put it in strong bottles, cork tightly, and tie down with twine. Set in a cold col lar, and in throe or four days it will bo ripe. — Germantown. Telegraph. , ; ,When the lawyers flourish, the laws ■do not.' [C7* “Bad,” said a hopeful sprig, “how many fowls are on the table ?” • ■■ ‘\Vhy, ~, said the old gentleman, ashe looked complacently on a pair of finely roast ed chickens that vrere smoking on the dinner table; “why, my son, there are two.ll ■. , “Two I” replied young smartness, "there are three,’sir, and I'll prove it.-” “Three ?" replied the old gentleman who was a plpin matter-of-fact man, and under stood, things as ho saw them. “I’d like to have you prove that." / . “Easily done, air, easily done ! Ain’t that one," laying his knife upon the first ?, . : “Ifesi that’s certain,” said his dad. "And ain’t that two?" pointing to the,sec ond, “and don't one and two added together make three ?" . . 1 . “Ileally.said the father, turning to. the old lady who was listening in astonishment; at tlio immense learning of her son, “really,, wife, this hoy is a genius and.deserves to be encouraged' for it. Here old lady, do you take one fowl, and I’ll take the second, and John may have the third for his learning/?. Could’nt See It.—A juggler was perform* mg to a western.audience, and exhibiting one ot his icuts of mysterious .disappearance, ac companying. it.with'tbe following strain- . V “Now. gentlemen, I take’ the ball thus, in the palm of my loft band /cover it with the rjglit.haja.d, thus ; rub them gently? together in this style ; ami, behold! .’tis' gone. You thus see, gentlemen— ’V.. . , , ‘No, I can’t see,’ replied an individual among the audience./ ■ ’ The juggler .rapeiited-'hia performance. ‘I take theMmll thns, ot cetera, and, behold! tio gone. You thus -ace, gentlemen—■* .... , 0 ■ I cannot see,’ reiterated the same in* dividual.' -i .... i- i .... . •,. ,■ ‘May I ask,’ returned the excited juggler, ‘ ‘why the gentleman can’t see when-*-’ .... ; •Yes ; that’s about the thing. I am,blind.’ I’ho juggler rang down the curtain. A Large Onion-.— ‘ Do you call them laree .mips V ■ . Why, yea, they 1 are considerable largo.’ ‘ They may he so for turnips, bur, {lnly ate nothing to an onion I saw thootln relay." , ‘ Anti .bow- large- wiw the omon V ‘ 0, a monster, it weighed forty pounds,’ . ‘ Forty pounds ?’ ■ S: '■ , _ ‘ Yes, and wo took off the layers, and-the sixteenth layer went completely round o dom'i* John that held four rfhljons 1’ ’ ‘ What a whdppin- V ‘ You don't aiiy'tliat I lie ?’ , ■ - •; ‘0„ no; iyhat a chopper of an onion. I mean.’ ■ Black vs. , White.—The True American learns from reliable authority that certain, abolitionists in Bucks county, Pennsylvania, have recently discharged white Ihborers on their farms ancT have. substituted them by ’r.umway negroes from the South, attbe'ehorn ,iuous wages of ten cents a day.'" / ,0-7“ The facetious Mr. Bearoroft told his rfficmt Slr. Vaosittart,. V 1 Tour name is such a long one, I shall drop the sittart, and call you Van, for the future. ‘ ‘ With all my heart,’ said.hojby thp same rule I shall drop the croft, and call you Bear’ . ; »■ * , SnobTiJtO Affair.— A tax collector called on a. farmer at Wilton, lowa, for lus dog tax,: The farupr.refused to pay, and the collector, ■shot his dog, whereupon the farmer immedi ately seized his-gun and shot the collector dead on .the spot. , O’’ Target shooting is How practised, uni-; yorsally. in the French army; nut:,Only tl e troops, on. foot and .mounted, .who are armed with muskets,-tabe part in, .the .exereiso, but also the cavalry regiments, armed with pistols only, such as the lanoora. V V The Austrians -ihave an odd way of increasing the- oireulptipn of newspapers. The policy recently closed, twenty-seven coffee houses in Venice because they rofusedto take the Verona Gazette . ; O’A doctor’s wife, attempted to move him by her tears. “Ah 1” sitid.ha>“ tears are useless. I have, analyzed them. They o mtain a little phosphate of lime, some oholo rate of sodium, and water.” "Cotto.v.—Two bun Irod- and forty nine bales of, cotton were shipped from this port yesterday. Prices were, rather stiffijr than they have boon for sose time past. —Nash ville Union, May 30, ID”“You can’t do too much work for your employers, man,” said somebody to ~A hig-fisted, strong.back man of-all-wbrk, on the- wharf one day. “ Arrah, bajahors,” re plied Pat, with emphasis, “ neither will IP’ (O’ During the whole of the battlo on th* Ist inst.. Prof. Lowe’s balloon was overlook i ig the terrific scone from an altitude of about 2,000 feet. .This is the first rpgQunqj, sanoo during a battle. OD* There, must, certainly he a deal of fun attendant upon, running “.wid.der machine,-” else there would -not be so-many willing to work gratis for insurance companies. 1D”.4- gentleman who wont off in search of his rights has returned to Louisville, amji says the only ones he was likely to find in the Southern Confederacy was his funeral rites., S