YOL. 51
AMERICAN VOLUNTEER.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY UORHIHO SY
IrOBK B. BRATTON.
' TERMS
SunsonmTioN.—Two Dollars if paid within tho
year; and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if’not paid
within tho yoar. Thoso terms will bo rigidly ad
bored to in every instance. No subscription dis
continued until all arrearages nro paid unless at
the option of the Editor.
) Advertisements —Accompanied by tbooAsn, and
n)t exceeding ono square, will bo inserted throe
tames for $2.00, and twenty-five cents for each
additional insertion. Those of a greater length in
proportion.
! J^B-PniNTi*a—Such as Hand-hills, Posting-bills
Pamphlets, Blanks, liiihblGj Jfcc.&c., executed with
aooanloy and at tho shortest uotioo.
so*tknl.
LINES ON THE CELEBBITIOjfOF” PEACE. ~
DY THOMAS HOOD.
And ii it thus yo welcome Peace,
From mouths of forty-pounding Bores?
0, cease exploding Cannons I cease,
Lost Tehee, affrighted, shun !
Not so tho quiet Queen should come;
But like a Nurse to still our Fears,
With shoes of List, demurely dumb,
Wool or Colton in, her Ears I
Sho asks no triumphal Arch j
No Steeples for their noisy Tongues ,*
Down Drumsticks, down 1 She needs no March,
Or blasted Trumpets from brazen Lungs.
Sho wants no Noise of mobbing Throats
To toll that Sho is drawing nighj
Why this Parade of scarlet Coats,
When War has closed eye ?
Returning to Domestic Loves,
When War has ceased with all its-Ills,
Ciptains should come like sucking Doves,
With Olivo Branches in their Bills.
No need there is of vulgar Shout,
Bolls, Cannons, Trumpets, Fife an 1 Drum,
To lot us know that Peace U oorrie ;
And Soldiers marching all about.
Lo 1 whore' tho Soldier walks, alas!
BY FREDERICK BOrONT,
'CHATTIER 1,
. 'There wal no excuse for snob an act of fol
ly, but I coikld not belli it. 1 whs madly in
loVb Willi a picture, the mere semblance of a
human being upon the glowing canvas.a It
is true she was on angel in the mind and
heavenly expression of her features.’ There
was an angel in her soul, there was heaven
in her eye.
I dould not help loving her. It seemed
not like a picture to me, but more as though
the pearly gates of Paradise had opened, and
she descended before me and smiled upon
me., ? ’ . ,
'She was senseless-and inanimate'to the
reason, but glowing fancy endowed her with
nil the requisites of a living, breathing lov
ing ungel. She smiled from her canvass
throne, and 1 felt that, she loved .me. My
reason could have taught me that, she could
not speak, but my enOiusiastic heart would
not listen to its voice, and day'aftei day, and
month after month, as I stood before my idol,
I fully expected she would address me.
It was very foolish of. me to think so I
know { but try as hard as I might, I could
not diyest myself of the pleasing idea. The
picture hung in the gallery of art in the Crys
tal Palace, and every day for several months
-1 had been a regular visitor. I. paused not
to gaze upon other scenes ; all the glories of
the whole world could not luie for an hour
from my blissful homage of the dear divine
ideal that had ‘won such a marvelous ascen
dency' over my heart.
Oh, I could have given all the world to see
the living form of the angel of that_ picture I
I could have been her slave, and kissed the
chains that bound me to her I
Heaven has givpn : me an abundance of this-
World’s goods. lam rich in houses and
lands, in money and in .stocks,’but I
would have given all, every foot of
land, .every dollar of money, to have taken
the original of that painting by the hand. .
* Fred, what the deuce are you about, here
every day V said my fridrtd Kail Langford
to mo one day, when he surprised me at my
accustomed devotion at the shrine ot my di
vinity. .
I looked at him, and he laughed in my
face. Perhaps 1 looked ‘ sheepish, ‘ I have
ho doubt I did ;.I felt eo.t ;
* You are a little oraokod, Fred,’ continued
ho. ' ;•
I pointed,at the picture,
‘ Eh r
1 Isn’t she lovely ?’ said I.
, Karl deliberately raised bis eye-glass and
With the air of a oannoissour examined the
fainting. I could have knocked him down
for his coolness,
‘ Passable,’ said he coldly.
‘Passable?’sneered I. •
‘ Very tolerable ; painted by Grand, I per
ceive. *
‘ Karl you have a soul.’
‘ I like that battle piece better over the
stairs. There’s coloring for you.’
The stupid dolt 1 I determined to out him
froth'that moment. Prefer a,battle piece—
-11 daub of smokonnd rod coats—to snob.’an
Mgol as my divinity. 1
‘Fred,you are a fool I’ said .he, gazing at
■newith a look of compassion. ‘ Have you
boon hero, every day for the last six months
lo look at that picture ?’
‘ I have..’ I would have given ton thou
sand dollars for that picture, if I could jaot
got it without. But I have it. •* '
ft is tolerable—nothing more.’
1 turned away from him in disgust; but
that was the must blessed.-* turn away’ that
I have over known.
CHAPTER 11.
. Close bosido me stood tho original of bbo
picture 1..
,1 was trdnsßxed to ,tho‘spot. My blood
flew like a torrent through my veins. I was
about to throw myeelf on my knees before
nor, when,Karl slapped me on tho back.
1 What ails you, Fred I Are you orafiv V
said he. ■
‘Ho you not sco her? I wildly exclaim'
ed.
‘ See whom V ■
* The lady.*
1 1 see a lady.' *
‘ Thie^Original of tho picture/
Karl looked at her for a moment, and then
turned'to me with a smile.
* She does look a little like it.* .
•‘•Hush I she comes P said I, with melodra
matic flourish—perfectly natural, it it* true ;
but it must have looked-odd to. the lady and
her party, who were advancing nearer to tho
picture.
The lady took a position by the side of me,
and bestowed her attention upon the paint
ing, .There was a gentleman by her side
who appeared to be lavishing extraordinary
attentions upon her, which she but coldly
received. Was he a lover? I could not
doubt it.
Just, behind- them - was an-elderly couple
whom my fancy assured mo were her par*
ente. They were all dressed in costly appa
rej, and by tho»r conversation and manners.
I judged they belonged to the aristocracy b’f
New York..
tio lady was the very counterpart of the
ire upon which I had so long bestowed
my insane admiration. Was I indeed so
blessed as- to behold in flesh and blood a
creature so beautiful as my ideals?
The stare were with mo. She was the or
iginal of that picture. .
‘ Lady/ said I, stepping up to her side.
.. Her companions fro'wnecl at me.
* May X be so bold as to ask—pardon mo
if lam impertinent—if you have ever been
in Germany V
She looked ht me, and blushed Hkb a rose
in summer. Whether it was the gaze of my
admiring eyesor the suddenness of the ques
tion, that brought the crimson to her cheek,
I have not been able to determine. I am
certain that my soul was in my eyes, that
she never enoountbrbd a more intense look
of love and admiration tK?in mine. 1
sure she never did from the lover by her
side.
*1 have, sir/ she replied with a sweet
smile. '
‘ Oh, how my Clood leaped i|ndef the
Vrarntth of that kindly smile! How heav
en seemed to open to my view, and she, the
brightest angel of the celesiitri troupe, seem
ed, to Jhid me hope I might yet be the blessed
recipient of her loVo I
4 Well/sir/ said her companion, harshly
* have you anything further to say V .
I retired from his presence, but it was a
miracle that iny fist had not split the fallows*
skull. 1 took a position near the lady, and
continued to gaze with-fixed earn’oataess,
spell bound to the sport, upon her. I saw
her frown upon the puppy by her side, and
I knew that she did not lore him. What a
rapture?
—HPredryou-aroTrfooir~Baid“KaTlr ;
I made no reply, and never removed m£
gaze for an instant from the fair being whoso
imago had been so long thronged in my smii.
The lady turned to depart. She ,saw my in j
tense gaze.
4 Impertinent puppy ?* muttered her com
panion.
4 Poor follow I* sighed the lady, in reply ;
4 he has lost his wits/ .
They passed on, but my eye fallowed
horn. '
4 Fred you are a fool, I : Bay/, - :
■ 4 Hush, Karl, you will dissolve the spoil,*
said I, nearly breathless with excitement.
4 Make a dissolving view of the rwholo
thing, eh ?
‘ Peace V . '
‘ Do you know her, Fred ?’ said ho.
‘ No ; she is an angel?'
‘ Not exactly ;, X. happened to know she is
old Sherwood’s only daughter.’
•Do you know her, Karl?’-1 asked eager
ly seizing him by the hand.
, vl do net; but ebo is betrothed to ■ Colonel
Kent, the gentleman by hey side. And by
the way, Fred I will bet a thousand you have
got into a scrape with him,’ ,
‘ Why so ?’
“You accosted the lady.’
‘ Well ?’
‘ Which to, his nice 'sense of propriety
amounts to an insult. He will call you out.’
. ‘ Nothing would suit me better;’
,‘ You want to die ?’ ,
i To kill-him,-or-dio myself.’
‘BahT
With that Karl left me.
CHAPTER 111,
I left the place soon after, and was walfc
ing loisurly down Sixth Avenue, thinking of
course, of the divine being who had enslaved
my heart, whbn I heard a shout,behind mo.
Turning I beheld a span of horses, attached
to a. phaeton, dashing madly down the street.
The vehicle contained two ladies and two
gentlemen, the former of whom were shriek
ing in all the agonies of deadly fear.
On oiiiiie the mad horses, at the height of
their speed, their terror tenfold increased by
the cries of the ladies..
I could not endure the sight. I was ns
ready to die as live, and springing into the
street directly in the path of the infuriate
animals, I seized the nigh- one by the bridal
when they came up with me. ~
But my feeble arm was nothing against the
fury of high-mettled .steeds, and they drag
ged me like a feather after them. 1 was de
termined, just in the mood for the most des
perate adventure. Life.and death were the
same thing to mo, and with an energetic
bound, I vaulted upon the neok of the flying
courser. Grasping the reins with both
bands, I tugged' ana sawed upon the bit;
but it was of no avail. On they dashed, to
certain destruction.
It had oorne to be victory or death, and that
in an instant, too; for directly before mo,
the street was blocked up with vehicles on one
side and a bar on the railroad was approach
ing in the middle, so there was only room
enough for us to pass between them.
Loosing my hold of the outside rein I gras
ped the two short coupling reins, and pulled
upon thorn with all my might. As I had
intended, the effect was to draw the heads of
the horses together, which cheeked their mad
flight. At that instant the wheels of the car
riage struck the railroad oar,'the vehicle be
came a shapeless wrook, and the whole par
ty. horses and all, wore entangled in the
ruins. ’ ■ ■ ,
My last impression was the sensation ot a
flying motion as I was precipitated over the
head of the horse I had ridden, upon the
pavement, whore I was taken up utterly
ecnsoloss. . ,
When I came to myself, I wan lying on a,
aouch in a magnificent apartment.
‘ Around the bed stood two gentlemen, and
—blissful sight 1 the Beauty, of the Crystal
Palace—the idol of my dreams. She was
looking down upon m» with an expression of
■'OUR COUNTRY-MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIdHT-BUT RIGHT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY.
heavenly sympathy on her radiant features*
Her eye was full of cummiboration, full of
love and tenderness*
I opened my eyes: I could see the thrill
of pleasure leap from her heart, and colored
the alabaster of her chock, ns-she relalized
that I was not dead. Oli, tho* bliss, tho rap
ture of that moment 1 All the joys for which
I hud sighed in those long months of hom
age to the painted canvass, wore conden
oed into that single instant. I would have
given all tho rest of my l.fo for. the ecstacy
of that moment. • She blushed as her glance
met tho gaze of my reanimated eye I was
sure she felt for me—that her heart and mine
wore ono,
‘Ellon, let us retire/ said Colonel Kent, her
lover, as he saw mo oppa ray eyes., *Uo will
do vary well now/ • * ***
‘Not till I hoar what tho dootar says/re
plied she, in a tone that was music to mv
soul. ; . , J
‘Bless you, lady 1' exclaimed I, attempting
to rise.
‘Do not stir/ said the surgeon, -
The admonition was useless; I could not
stir.
The doctor said iny arm was broken/and
that I was much bruised; but with care, I
should recover-in a few weeks.
I had been borne to the residence of the
Madonna of my dreams ; and I was now be
neath the same roof with her, and what was
more, if the medical man understood the
case, I was likely to remain there for some
weeks to come.
‘How do you feel, sir!* asked Miss Sher
wood, - in the sweet tones d sympathy.
‘Quite well/ I exclaimed, in a rapture ;
‘your presence inspires me/ - -
She blushdd, but she whs not angry,. Col
onel Kent, her Ipvor, frowned; his brow
darkened, and ho rudely. led her from .the
room. He was not a lover, of her choice, I
afterwards learned ; she only tolerated him
for her father’s sake. I could read this much
in her looks and actions, and I blessed my ‘
stars for. the fact. - • ,
I had not time or space to toll how I pass
ed the six weeks of nly confinement and con
valescence in the-presence of Ellon Slier-;
wood; how She watched over me with ten
derness and sympathy; how her saiild re
warded me for the months of suspense and
anxiety I had spent with her picture in the
palace; and finally how her sympathy and
tenderness ripened into love ; how we plight
dd our faith, and vowed to Jive and die for
eaoh other. .
I cannot tell hpwshe hung upon words full
of passionate eloquence, when I described my
devotion to the picture; how she blushed
when I told her my love—a love X had cher
ished and nurtured into a flaming passion
before 1 saw Her face* She loved me in re
turn, and I was as happy as the dream of an
angel.
CHAPTER IV.
Col. Kent looked all this time* with savage
interest; He had sworn to drink, my blood,
I doubted not; but I cared not fot tlilSi I
jCulljr_expectQdlto_bo_caUed-out.— He-had-the
reputution of being the. best shot in the
States; had already killed thfce men on the
field of honor, ftn'd t had the pleasant pros
pect of being added to the number.
Ellen told me all this; and in the same
breath that.sbe both feared and hated him.
ShS Warned hie to avoid him and pleaded
with me to decline the challenge. I could
not do this with honor» and though the
though tof parting with myfdiry was terrible,
I was obliged to evade her petition.
One day* after I hud returned to my rooms,
I was surprised to receive a visit from the,
infuriated lover.' He was cooler than I, ex
pected to see him. He prompt)y*nccused me
ot treachery, aud demanded satisfaction.
I attempted to reason with him ; and. if
she had never seen me, would not- have con*
sented to be his wife. He thought other
wise, and demanded a duel. He was so
cool, that I tried to reason further with him j
but he was obstinate, and insisted on fight
ing me.
. ‘ As you please,’ said I, indifferently,
‘ My’ friend will wait upon you this eve
ning,' said he, pulling on his glove, with
careless ease. -
* Nay, Colonel, let us settle it here,’
‘Here ?’
He looked at me with astonishment. In
spite of his reputation for courage, and skill
in the duel, I had long since come to the
conclusion ’ that he was a ‘bully,’ more l
‘ brag’ than man. As it was, he was a pro
ficient in the use of the pistol, while I was a
-novice; —Girtho-field he was sure to kill me,
and I was disposed to meet him on fairer
terms.
‘ Certainly, here,’ said I coolly.
‘ Yon are a gentleman 1’
1 I am.’
‘And I claim to be,’ replied 1, taking a base
of pistols from my secretary. ‘ Load that to
suit and I handed him one of the
pistols, retaining the other myself, which I
proceeded to charge.
He followed my. example, and the, pistols
were ready for use.
• Now,’ continued I, * we will fire across
the centre-table.’
I saw his cheek blanch. •
‘Sit there,’ said I, giving him.a chair and
taking one opposite [|im myself.
‘ Who shall give the word—this is not
fair,’ stammered he.
There was a ohuroh close by ray room and
the clock would strike in afew moments.
I told him we would fjre at the first stroke of
the boll.
tTake your position/ aaid I;
but two minutes of the hour, 1
1 It will be certain death to both of us.’
* So much the bettor I*
We aimed at each other’s heart, and I
could see bis cowardly hand tremble. His
breast heaved,.and his lip quivered ; it want
ed only half a minute of the fatal instant by
the watch that lay upon the table.
4 Rtady/ said I, fiercely. Fire at the first
stroke V
4 Oh, God I* groaned he, and I- thought he
would sink through the floor. . '
'Only a second I* added I and I mentally
bade farewell to Ellon Sherwood, expecting
to be a corpse in another instant.
I saw him waver.
* Don’t flinch,’ said I.
Suddenly he sprang from his bbnir, throw
down the pistol, and fled from the room 1
I wiped the oold clammy sweat from my
brow, and tried to recover from the agony
of that moment. -He,was gone ; the coward
htfd fled 1
It was ah hour before I could become en
tirely composed. I had passed the chasm of
death, and was a living man. My foe was
vanquished without a shot.
I have not seen,him since. I learned the
next day ho had' sailed for Europe in the
steamer of that morning, and I was forever
rid of my rival. My dear Ellen almost faint
ed when I told her how the affair had been
settled. She reproached me for the peril to
which I had exposed myself; asked me what
she should 1 have done if I had been shot/1
CARLISLE* PA., ' THURSDAY, JtJNE 1, 1865:
pressed her to my bosom, kissed her beauti
ful lips, and told her wo were.rid of mV ri
val. - • J
. were married ; and when tlip exhibi
tion of the Crystal Palace closed, the picture
of ray wife was transferred to ray room..
THE TWO MARRIAGES.
A SISTER'S.STORY OP A BROTHER,
More than fifty years ago my brother Ste
phen and 1 lived together, in a village about
ten miles south of London, where ho was in
practice as a surgeon. Stephen was thirty
two, I eighteen. Wo had no relations but a
sister, five or six years older than myself,
and well married in London, .Stephen was
a solitary and studious man, living somewhat
apart from his neighbors, and standing al
most in a fatherly position towhrds me.—
.through the years we had lived together no
one bad thought? of his marrying, l?hus it
was w-*en the events I have to tell began.—„
The house.next to ours was taken by a Mr.
Cameron, a feeble looking man, rather past
middle age, with one daughter; Marian by
name. How shall I describe her, the most
beautiful creature I over saw ? She was per
haps twenty y ears old ; [ never knew precise
ly. A tall, slight form, fair comprexion, dark
chestnut eyes and .hair; and an expression
more like that of an angof than a human be
ing. Though I was much struck with her
appearance, Stephen did not seem lo notice
it; and we might have remained unacquain
ted with them forever, but that he was re
quired help,Mr. Cameron over an awk
ward stile opposite our house. Acquaintance :
once made, soon grew familiar; for
they had two feelings in common, a love of
tobacco, and SweodenborgianismV Many a
summer evening did they pass, smoking the
one and taking the other, Marian sometimes
joining in, for she generally walked with
them, while my chest, which was weak at
that time, kept me at homo,. One day they
quitted Stephen at the gate, and as he enter
ed the door I said to him :
“ How lovely Marian is; I am never tired
of looking at her,”
“ Look at her while you may,” said het,
“ slid has not three years to live.”
It was only too true. She had some dread*
ful complaint—aneurism, I think it was—,
I which must carry her off in the flower of her j
I'days. Stephen told me that he had consult
ed the most eminent doctors without getting
any hope ; aqd the emotion, rare enough in
that he displayed, told me that he loved
Marian. I said no word to him about it,-I
knew better; but I saw with what dreadful
doubts he vTas perplexed. Hxditenlent might
shorten. Marian's life—siidjli an excitement as
a declaration of love from him' might be of
material injury : and even if it did not prove
so, how could ne condenin himself to tho
prolonged torture of seeing the life of a be
loved .Wife obb‘ away, day by day ? • Besides,
he did nob think She cardd for him. I, who
had Watohod-her carelessly, knew that she
loved him with her whole heart. He strug
-gled-With-hiinself-^eroely-;—but-he-wonrthe--
fight. He left home for' six weeks, and re:
turned, looking older and paler; but he had
learned to mention her naara without his
voice cjdiveririg, and to touch Irer hand with*
out holding his breath hard. She was pin*
ing awav under the influence of his changed
manner, nnd I dared not help ray two dar
lings to be happy. An unexpected aid soon
came. Mr. Cameron, who was in bfidhealth
when we first saw him, died suddenly. Poor
Marian's grief was terrible to s'etf/, Her fath
er was dead ; Stephen, thought, es
tranged ; and there, was no one else in the
worjd who cared whether she lived or died,
except myself. l . broughther home with me,
and was with herhourly until Mr. Cameron's
funeral. How w,e- got through that time I
hardly know. Then came the necessary in
quiries into; his ’affairs. He had-died, not
altogether poor, bat in reduced cirdumstap
ces, leaving Marian an annuity that would
Scarcely give her the luxuries.hdr-state, of
health required. And where" was live
to do? Stephen-was the sole ex
ecutor, the one adviser to. whom shp could
look. He took two days and nights.,to con
sider, and then offered her ‘ his/hand and
homo. At first she Could not believe that
his offer arose from anything but pity and
compassion ; but when he bad told her the
story of the last few months, and called me
to bear witness to it, a great light seemed to
come into her eyes, and a wonderful glow of
love, suoh as I had never seen, over her face.
I left them tq, themselves that evening, till
Stephen tapped at the door of my room, and
told me all-7~nothing in fact, but.
knew long before. In their case there was
little cause for delay. Trousseaqx were not
the important matters in my day that they
are in ray grandchildren's, and Marian was
married to Stephen, in her black, wit bin .a
month after her father's funeral.
: The next few months were a happy time
for all of us. Marian's health improved
greatly. The worried, frightened look she
used to wear left her tace as she recovered
from the depression caused by her. constant
anxiety about her father, and the loss of rest
she suffered in attending upon him at night/
It seemed as if she was entirely recovering;
and Stephen, if he did not lose His fearSj at
least was not constantly occupied with them.
How happy wo used to look forwaid to the
future, for Stephen-was beginning to .save
money; and many wore our day dreamt
.about professional eminence for him, and
fashionable life in London, partly for Mari
an, butmostly for me. I have tried fashion
able life in London since, bnb I never found
1 it wants
it so happy as oar days in that dear old Sur
rey village.
Well, our happy did not last long,
Marian caught a cough and cold as tho win
ter came on, and was soon so ill as to be ta
ken to London for "advice. Stephen came
back alone, with a weary, deathly-looking
face, Marian had broken a smAU bloody ves
sel on the journey—nob anything serious in
itself, but ominous enough. They wore to go
at once to a warmer climate —not a day to be
dost. Sorrowfully I.packed.up the necessary,
things,• and went'with Stephen to London
the next day, to bid good-bye to Marian, who
had to return homo. The
same afternoon they were on board a trading
vessel, bound to Leghorn. Luckily, Marian
was a good sailor and well used to ships, for
eho hai made more than one voyage to Ma
deira with her father. Much as I wished to
go with them, and much as they wished it
too, was out of the question. Stephen 1 had
saved but little money, and could hardly see
*how he and Marian were to live, unless ho
could make practice somewhere among the
English abroad, and his taking me also was
not to bo thought of. I was to live for tho
present with my married sister. It was very
sore to part with'Stephon, with whom I had
lived almost all my life ; it was sorer still to
part with Marian,, who had been more than
a sister to me ever since I saw her. Stephen
and I were nearly overcome with emotion;
but she was calm and silent, with an intent,
Wistful look about hor lovely faeo that has
haunted mo all my life since. I can see it
now when I shut my eyes, though it is fifty
yfiars ago. Need I say that I never saw her
again f , -
I went to my sister’s jjodse, and began the
fashionable life I used to wish for. It was
not all that I pictured it, though it was plea
sant enough to occupy me in the day time •
hut at night I longed sadly for my darlinge/
Stephen wrote letters full Of hope, and
talked of returning after Speeding two ydars
in Italy. Marian, too, Wrote favorably of
herself, and my anxiety began to lessen.
There was onother reason for this at the
same time—my late husband, the friend and '
partner of my sister’s husband, was at that
time beginning to (Say his addresses to mo j
and the tender troubles of my own ease made
me careless of others. Summer came rouud
again ; and one day when I was halt wish
ing for my country home again, a letter ar
rived from Stephen. Marion’s complaint was
at a crisis, and a great change would take
place, one way or the other, in a few days.
J was to go homo, put the place in order, and
be ready to receive them. I did not know
till afterwards that Marian had bogged to bo
allowed to die at home, if the change were
for the worse, if it had boon for the bettor,
there would have been no. reason for her
staying abroad. ",
Weill went homo, arranged,everything,
and waited for thorn. Three tracks passed
(thd usual interval,) and no letter j a month
and I supposed they were traveling slowly to
avoid fatigue. On the.day five weeks after
I had received the last letter, I was sitting
alone, rather late in the evening, wlioha
quick step sounded in the road outside, and
Stephen came to gate, opened it, entered
the house, and sat down in silence. He was
dressed as usual, and looked tired and trav
el-stained ; but there was no sorrow in his
face, and I felt sure that Marian must bo
'safe. I asked him where she was. lie said
she was not with him. ,
*• Have you lei t her in Italy?” I asked.
“ Slid is dead," he answered, tfibliotlt a
shadow of emotion.
“ IIiw? Where?" I was beginning to
question Mm, but he.stopped me.
*' Give mo aomothing to eat and drink,"
ho' anid; “ I have walked from London, and
want to sleep." •
I brought him what ho wanted. -.He bade
me good night; nnd ns I saw he wished it,
■I left him and went to hod, full of grief, but
oven more ol wonder thishe, who truly joyed
Ilia wife if ever man did, could speak lif her,
not ,11 month after her death, without his
voice faltering or his face changing in the
least. “To morrow will solve the question,”
I said to myself, as, weary, with crying, I
felt sleep coming over me. But to morrow
did not solve the. question. lie told ipe as
before, without emotion, what ho wished me
to know, and from that moment ho spoke-no
mote oh the subject. . In every respect but
this ho was my own Stop'heri o'f old—its kind
and tTioughtful as over, only altered-by a.
rather absent and" abstracted manner. I
thought at first, that ho was 'stunned by his
_Jos_3 l
"ward ; - but months passed on without
change. 110 used Marian's chair, or things
of her work, or sat opposite to her drawings
without seeming to notice them ; indeed, it
was ns if she* dropped out of hirf’life entirely,
andleft him as ho was before
The only difference was, that he, naturally a
man of sedentary habits, took a great deal of
exeroi.se and I knew that be kept laudanum
in bis bedtooob.* r
At this time my lover was ; pressingjho to
marry him, and with, much difficulty. I con
sented to tell Stephen abouVifc, ; tbdugh I liad
no intention of leaving him. To my sur
prise bo seemed pleased. I told him that 1
•would never him alone, not for all the
the world; but he would not
hear mo.
“ I think it is your duty to marry him,
Margaret," he said, “ you love him and have
taught him t> love you, and you have no
right to sacrifice him to me." " v
“My first duty is to you, Stephen. I will
npt leave you aloue "
“ I soo that I must explain to' you." ho
said, a r ter a pause. V When yoa leave mo,
I shall nof be alone,"
Who will be with you ?" I asked, won-
dering.
“ Marian." i .
I started as if I had been shot, for I
thought he must surely bo mad ; but be con
tinued, quite calmly and as usual, without
emotion. •
“ She died at mid day. Till night I did
not know what I did. I felt stunned and
dying myself; but at last, worn out as I was
wtfli watching and sitting up, I fell asleep ;
and by God’s mercy she oamo to me in my
dreams, and told me to be comforted. The
next night she came again, and from that
time to this has never failed rate; Then I
felt that it was ray duty to live ; that if my
life was valueless to myself, it was not so to
you. So 1 cane home. I dare say it is du
ly a ffeak' of my imagination. Perhaps I
even produce and illusion by an effort of my
will; but however that is, it has. saved rae
from going mad oK killing- rrfyself.. How
docs s’ie come? Always as she was in £hat
first summer that wo spent here, or in,our
early time in Italy; always cheerful and
beautiful, always alone, always dressed as
she u-el to talking as she used to talk
—not am angel, butlierself. Sometimes wo
go through a whole day of pleasure, same
times she o ily enues and goes; bub no night
has evor yet been without her; and indeed I
think that her visits arc longer and’ (leaver,
ns I draw nearer 4 to her side again. I some
times flsk myself which.of my two lives is
tho real one." I ask myself how and cannot
answer. I should think that the other was,
if if Were not that while I am in this I rec
ollect the other, and while I urn in the other
I know beyond. And this is why rny sor
row is not like that of others in my position.
I know that no night will piss without my
'seeing her ; for my health is good enough,
and I never full to sleep. Sleeplessness is
tbo only earthly evil I dread, now you are
provided for.* Do not think mo hard to you
in not having told you this before. It is too
sacred a thing to be ap>ken of without ne
cessity; Now write t) your husband that is to
be, and telthira to come hero.”
I did so and the preparationsfor my marriage
began. Stephen was very kind; histhoughts
wandered further and furthW every I
spoke to a doctor, a friend of his, about him’,
bat it seined that nothing really ailed him.
I longed, almost ,to paid,'to ask him more
about Marian; but be never give me an op
portunity. If I approached tho subject ho
turned the talk in another dlfecti jtf. and ray
did habit of submission to him prevented mo
from going on., Then came my wedding
day. Stephen gave m) away, on! sat by my
side at the breakfast, lie. seemed to hang
over me more tenderly than ever, as he put
me into the carriage and took leave of mo.
Tho last thmg I did as I leaned out of the
carriage window was to tell him, to be sure
to be my first visitorJn my own home. . . ,
“ No, Margaret,” ho said,- with a Bad
smile; “say good-bye to me now, my work
is done.”
Scarcely understanding what he said, I
bade him good bye; and it was not until my
husband asked me what it meant that I re
membered his strenge look and accent. I
then felt half frightened about him; but the
novelty of my first visit abroad made me for
get ray fears. .
The rest is soon ‘told. The first letter I
received from England said that on the very
morning alter my marriage he had been
found dead and cold in his hod. lie had
died without pain, the doctor said; with-his
.right hand Clasping his left ohm above the
wrist, and holding firmly, even id death, a
circlet ot Mafian's hklr.
floft Jeff. Davis, and the Prisoners
at Fortress Monroe Look.
A correspondent of the .New York Herald
the following sketch of Jeff. Davis, and
the other prisonera at Fortress Monroe:
Jeff. Davis, of whom wo of the North have
heard bo much and seen so little lor tho past'
four years, is a man about six foot in height,
rather loan, tunj'notof the .finest figure by
any meurio. I should take him to he some
what above fifty j'ears of ago, prematurely
•gray. He has full whiskers, rather stunted
in growth, and, like big hair, sprinkled with
gray, ilia gray eyes (one (if which is blind)
have an undefined and unfathomable look,
and his mouth, of the Grecian mould, is oo*
casionally jerked out of nil proportion by a
sepulchral laugh- or forced cmile. He is con
fined* to Ilia bod a great deal of the iiirio, and
it requires all the nursing of his strong norv
ed wife to keep him from giving way to des
pondency. lie is a pitiful sight, and the
last man one would have supposed to be a fit
subject for Presidential honors, .
MRS. DAVIS AND CHILDREN.
, Mrs. Davis is the'second wife of the
President, by whom ho has bad four chil
dren. •The oldest is-a smfrpt little
girl, Maggie, of some fourteen sdiriniefs; and
the'next a boy, of. about twelve ( or thirteen,
who goes by the euphonious-Hognomen- of
■ “Young Jeff, lie is a chip* from the old
black, and we Would suppose from his actions
and temper, shown on vanods find sundry
occasions, that he too, like his traitorous sire,
wouldin -after-days be-fit for “ treason, strat
agem and spoils.” ' The next is a smart lit
tle fellow, with bright eyes and flaxen hair,«
too young to have the least appreciation of his
condition, and the fourth is a nursing child.
Mrs. Davis is a member of tho Howell fami
ly, of Georgia, ai.d has a great many rela
tives at Augusta. She is a pretty woman, of
probably forty years -of age. When I first
saw hef, at Macon,- and conversed with*hor
on the oars, I thought her pretty.and-,agree
able ; but .to look -at her now it -seems ns
though fc-womy'years had been heaped upon
Uor.a -jn -OTio tsVinrVWCCIi.V ~UttT pTIUa ‘ liuU'
vivacity have forsaken her, and- truly She is
but the wreck of her former, self.
MISS HOWELL,
her sister, is a young lacly hardly, out of her.
teens, if we are to judge from her appearance.
She has black hair and black eyes, with a
ruddy complexion. Sheds*nffianpethto, Lieu
tenant Hathaway, one of the prisoners*-
Having thus hurriedly sketched the, out
lines of the Davis family, I will leave the
imaginations’of my readers to fill the back
ground and supply, the lights and shades, and
proceed to' portray the personnel of the other
notables..
ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS,
the rebel Vied President, ia tfno of tlfe moat
singular men in appearance you will meet
with in a lifetime. I should take him to be
abjut five feetisix inches in height, and al
most as slim as n skeleton. He appears to
be nothing but skin, bone and cartilage, and
is so feeble us to be hardly able to move,
about. Ills face is entirely devoid of board,
and his lips extremely thin.. He is what is
commonly termed Tantern-jawed, and has a
high, smooth forehead, llis eyes are bright,
but, after looking at them straight, during a
somewhat.lengthy conversation, I am unable
'to toll what color they really aro. He was
dressed In plain black clothing, and wears a
heavy gold fob chain. Tho' amber* hieui of
his moersham pipe is always seen, either in
his mouth or protruding from his vest pock
et, Ho conversed, yery freely about the
events of the past four years. lie maintains
that he was always in favor of the Union
and opposed to secession, though he advocates
the inherent right of a State toUvithdraw
from the Union under the constitution. , Ho
vindicates his course in accepting tho Vice
Presidency of the confederacy by saying that
he did so in order to prevent the horrors of
disorganized warfare", and. to try to bring
about yoeonstruction. He is not on good
torms with Davis, arid I have not seen them
exchange words during the trip. Both keep
to their staterooms closely, and neither seem
to pay much attention to wlmtis transpiring
around them'. The nest character of note in
the programme is the late
tfjST MASTER GENERAL REAGAN^
This individual was formerly a representa
tive in Congress from Texas, and endeavored"
to make himself notorious on the State rights
q'ue'stion by Challenging.debate with several
prominent Republican members. None, how
ever, saw lit to indulge him, and he made but
little reputation, Skeopt among the fireeaters
of his own State. Being a personal friend qf
Davis, and one of his chief co-workers in ini
quity, he received tho appointment of Post
master General, in which capacity he serv
ed until the rebel bubble bursted.'
He then volunteered his services to pilot
his lord and master through the country to
Texas; and, securing a shipment most of the
rebel funds (which he had been for”some
time converting into specie.) in a blockade
runner to Europe, for deposit, subject to the
draft, ho undertook his perilous journey.—
You are already apprised of the result. He
is a thick set, black haired, tawny maq,:such
as the climate of Texas Usually produces’.
COLONEL LUBBOCK
was formerly Governor of £eza;,‘but has bepn
serving fur some time as aid-de-camp to Da
vis, with rank of colonel of artillery,, He is
also a heavy set individual, with gray hair
and imperial, amfc gray, cold eyes.l He is
rather of a jovial disposition, however, and is
disposed to take his capacity rather as a
“joke” than otherwise)’
COLONEL JOHNSON
occupied the same rank a'nd position. He is
a very tall) nr’uabular' man, and is also gray.
He is much of the disposition’of Liibbook, and
the t\vo ; pass most of the time playiqjjjtoarda
ot : ’spinning'^Urns.
ntIVATE BECaETARY HARRISON.
Is or very good looking man, and is very well
informed on political matters. He does not,
however, express an opinion openly on any
topic connected with'th'e defunct qpnfederaoy,
and is much reserved in tils manner. He is
very attentive to “ the President,"- ns ho in
variably calls him, and v'.’iniM, consider it an
honor to blaok his boots. This is dll of the
Presidential cortege that -f consider worthy
of special, mention, and so i will pass to
•; CLEMENT 0. ;CLjir AND LADY,;
Before I proceed, however’ I "^iH-append
the following copy of tho lett(ir.aonji(jy Mr!
Clay to Geri. Wilson, previous to liia arrival
and surrender in person at Macon: •
Laoranoe, Ga„ May 10, 1806—4 P. M.
Brevet Major General Wileon', United Stalei Army,
MacongQeorgiat. '
General —l have jdst seen a proclamation from
tho President of tbo United. States, offering a tq~
ward of ono hundred thousand, for my ar
rest on o. charge of haying,, with others therein
named, indited and concocted tho mqrdor of tho
lath President. ’
, Conscious of my innocence, unwilling even to
seem to fljr ft-pm justice, and confident of my en
tire vindication from so folil an imputation upon
tho full, fair and impartial trial which I to
receive, I shall goasaojn as practicable to Macon
to deliver myself up to your custody. *
I am, rospoctfqlly, , .
„ , ' • C. C. Jr;
. P. b.—This will bo delivered by lion. P. Phil
lips,, of this plucp, C. C. C., Jr.
I first met Mr, -Clay arid lady bn the cara
at Macon, and they both.converse very free
ly, they are both very intelligent, bub of the
two, to use a common expression, the madamo
is the best nmu, I shmlld take Olay to bb
about thirty-five years of age arid Kis wife
about thirty, They were dressed plainly; but
assume! an air of ostentation and superiority
Mrs. Clay jocularly remarked to Colonel
Pritchard and myself, that as slib brought Mr. ’
•Clay in, she should claim the reward
for hU ufi’cst. They both talked a great deal
about “ political tricks” at Washington, and
assumed to .behove iliat his .arrest only a
ruse, to carry out the designs of president
Johnson-for the gratification of personal veu
geadce».
; 5 • MAJOR GENERAL # WIIEEIiEIt •
is hardly worthy of a special paragraph. % H!a
is a very ordinary looking individual, about
thirty years of ago, with fight brown hair and
whiskers, and hazel eyes. always
tho laughing stock of our. oavdlry* who have
so often placed him hors du combat, and sinoo
his capture the poltroon sticks out of his ev
ery feature, and is displayed in his eyery ac
tion, Ho shrinks like a whipped puppy from
(jOntact with his oaptjrs, and is seldom seen
out of his room.
Artemus Ward on "t'Oßm"—Twice X
endeavored to do things which wasn't in my
Fort. „ Tue. fust time was when I undertook
to-lick a bwdashus cuss who -out ji hole in
my tent and crawled throw. .Sez I, •my
jentle sir, go out Or 1 shall go into you putty
heavy.'; Sez he«‘ wade in, old wax Aggers,'
whereupon I went for liiiri, but .fie cawt mo
powerful on tho head .and knocked, me
the tent into a cow oastur.' Afri nursnod thn
attack and flung me into, a mud puddle.
.-As I rose and rung out niy drenoht.gdf
raents I konoluded fitten was uot my Fort.
I now rise the leurtin uppn Seen 2nd. Xt
is- rarely seldom that I seek konsolatiqn, ia
the Flowin Bole. But in a certain town ici
Injauny in the Faul of 18-, ray organ grind
er got sick qf. the fever end died... I never
felt s‘o ashamed in all my life and. I thawb
I'd hist in a few .gwallera of; surflthmg
strenthenin. Kouscquents was I histed in
so qiiidh I didn't zdotly know whore bouts I
was., I turned my livm wild beasts of Pray*'
loose into tho street and upset my wax works.
I then bet I could play hose. So I haruist
to a Kanal bote, there being two other hor
ses hitched on likewise, 1 behind &JL ahead
uf mo. The driver hollered oufe for u3 ( tp git
and we did. But tho horsosvboingboused to
suchan arrangement began to kick and squall
and rare Up.. Ronspqudnts was, I waskickb
vilontly in stommuok &'baok and presently
I found myself in the Kanal with the othe*
horses kicking and yelling like a tribe, of
Cusscarorus sav.ijls,. r J. \yqs yesepod, arid as
I Was being carried to the. tavern on a hem
lock board, I said-in a feeble voice, * Boys,
playin boss isn't my Fort.' - ,
don't dp nothing which (it.
isn't your Fort, for if you do, you'll find
yourself splashing around in the, Kanal,
gerative-ly speaking. ,
Cut Out. —lt is many years since I fell in
love with a Jane Jorusha Sheggs, the hand
somest girl by far that ever went on legs.—
By meadow,-creek, and wood and oft
en did we walk, and the moonlight smile 1 ! on*
her melting lips,.and the night winds learn
ed our talk, : .Jane Je.hisha was all to jno, for
riiy heart was young and and loved with
a-double twisted love, and a love that was
honest too. I roamed all over, the neighbors*
farms, and I robbed,the bowers,’
and tore my trowsers and scratched my bands,
io'sparch of lowers. In my XoveT
brought all these to my Jeruaba Jane; but I
wouldn't be so foolish . n'o'w.,if I were a bqy t
again. A city chap then came all dressed up
in store clothes, with shiny vest, and mous
tache under his -nose. 11a talked to her of
singing schools, [for her father owned a farrn)
and she left -me, tho country, love*Aod took,
the' rie'W chap’s nrnv • And all .-that flight I
never slept, nor c>uld I oat next day, for I
loved that girl with a fervent layathat nought
\;culd drive away. I strove fc> win. her. bar--
to mo, but it was all in vain—the chap wit'
the hairy lip married Jotusha city Jane. —
And my poor heart was sick and sore unk:;
tho thought struck me,.that} .good,fish re*
maine rs were evor caught in the estf. .So I
went to the Methodist church one night, and
saw a dark brown curl peeping from under a
gipHoy hat, ami 1 married that very, girl*—
And many years have passed and gone, add,
I think my loss my gain • and I often blear
that hairy chap who stole Jerusha June* ,
The Credit SrsTEif.—-A beautiful girl
stepped iqto a shop to buy a pair of mitts.
* How much are they ?' , ti , i
‘Why,! said the gallant hut Impudent
clerk, lost in gazing upon her’sparkliug eyes
and ruby lips, ‘ you shall have them for b*
kiss.' • i ’ . .
‘ Agreed,’ said the young lady, pocketing
the mitts, while her eyes spoke daggers, 1 and
eg f sea you give credit here, onarga.it 6n ;
your books, and collect it.in the best manner;
you caff I’ So saying she hastily tripped
out.
JET' As an iastince of goad fortune that
sometimes attends speculations, the Oinoin
nnti Commercial is told that of a ! man' Who
two or three years ago* was a n Pc’a paper oar-,
fior.in that pity, (wdjdifow estimated to bo,
worth over'two uillliobs. Petroleum didtuo
business lor him.
%y A twelve year old .boy, who was p j
ished in a .Bpxbury school‘ the other
avongod himself by setting fira to the if.
house.
ID” The loaf,.revolutionary' tfenaioaei* y
Oonp99ti()ij)<
5’
NO.'fiOi