- . , . , . . . . . . , . .. . ~.. . ... . ._. , .... „, e • P ~.:. .. i.; : . --,: - ', : ,-t ..: ;.i: !, . . " J - E ~,, .. , ... ~ it z..., .... . . : .. . • tL..O m. , _--- 1 '.4r . • ... „.. .. . :-.-: .... ~ . _ . . . . .. :. . , . . .... ... ...•., .. ~.... CA 43/I,XITEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXX, NUMBER 11.1 fFIVAISRED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING Office in Carpet Halt, North-west corner of ?..Pront and Locust streets. Terms of Subscription. Lae Copyperannuna,if paid in advance, I I *. " if. not paid withinthree . month strom commeneementorthe year, 200 4, 023.-ti9 A. 4z,1=1-5.- niosubseriptlon received fore teas time than six 4anooths; and no paper will tie discontinued until ut I airrearages are paid, unless ut the optionof the pun isher. ltr:tioneynisty beremitted bymail stithepublish ver's risk. Rates of Advertising. k stiaare[o lines] one week, three weeks, each 4 ubsequentinsertion, 10 [l.2:ines) one week. 50 three weeks, 1 00 11 eaehsubsequentinsertion. 25 Largerndvertisementsin proportion liberutiliscouni will be made to quarterly, half. e arly.oryearlyailvertisers,who are strittl)confined otheir business. DR: HOFFER, TIENTIST.---OFFICE, Front Street 4th door lrom•Loeust, over I. 4 sylor & McDonald's Book store Columbia, Pa. Er u trancc, between the Book and Dr. Herr's Drug :store. [August :11, 1868 THOMAS WELSH, TIISTICE OF THE PEACE, Columbia, Pa. 40 OFFICE, in Wbipper's New ➢uilding, below Black's Hotel, Front street. it 'Prompt attention given to all business entrusted Ao bis care. November 58, 1857. DR. G. W. IIUFFUN, DENTIST, Locust street, a few doors above the Odd Ft gawp Ha 11, Columbia, Pa. Columbia. May 3. 1936. H. M. NORTH, A TTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW LA. Columbia, Pa. Collectione,p romptly made,i n Lanco4terand York dounties. Columbia.lklay 4,1850. J. W. FISHER, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, Glolurreizoizt., Pax. Co/umbra, ttepternher b,lbsttif C. D. HOTTENSTEIN, 1117157, --- QUIW ON AND PHYSICIAN, Columbia, Pa. o Office in the rooms lately occupied by Dr. L. S. Filbert. Allay 14, 1859-1 L S. Atlee Bockius, D. D. S. - "GRAMMES the Operative, Surgical and illechen• A kill Department. of Dentistry. Matra Locum oreet, between the Franklin Elow.e. and Past Office., Cotutnlita, Pa May 7 1e.59. SHAKER CORY.--•A fresh lot of Shaker Corn, for tale by HENRY SITYDA3I. Nov. 13. 1858. ('or ner trret s. GEORGE J. SAINTLY, WHOLESALE and Retail Bread and Cake Baker.--Constantly on hand a variety of Cakes. too numerous to mention, Craokers; Soda, Wtne, Scroll ; and Sugar Biscuit; Confectionery, of every description, &c., i.e. LOI..UST sTitizm, Fob. t,'56. Between the Rank and Franklin House. JUST received, three, dozen Dr. Brn non's Vegetable Ifiners, a certatn cure for Dyspepsia, also, a fresh lot of t..up Sago and Pine Apple Cheese. Purina and I'm Starch, et D. GERD'S Sept 5, 1657. Grocery and Liquor Store. JIIST RECEIVED, a beautiful assortment of Glatt: Ink Stand', at the Headquarters and News Depot. Columbia. April 18, 1957. CHEWING TOBACCO. Al' HENRY PFAHLEIVS,I.ocust street . opposite the Franklin Rouse, can be had CUBA LEAF, CON GRESS, and several other brands of the best Chewing Tobacco, to which the attention of chewers is invited. May 1,1855. IMPORTED Lab: n'o, al fto, Cilena , a Double Extract. for the handkerchief, at 11 ARM(' GREEN'S, Felt, 19. W. Opposite Colo. Bridge, Prot,' St. NOTICE!. G 0 TO FENDRICII s BRO'S_l'or the Best Tobacco. The Best Sweet Cavell L.A., Twist, • " Peuch Lent; can be bought cheaper of Fend rich & Rros.,than else where. The only established wholesale and retail Tobacconists in Columbia. FRONT STREET ABOVE LOCUST. March 12, IESB. BAGLEY'S GOLD PENS A FRESH lot of lot A. G. Bagley's Gold Pens, o f different sizes awl prlces. juvt reeetved, at SAYLOR & liileDONALD'r3, Head Quarters and News Depot, Front Fillet( ' sec 014 d door above Locust. March 27.1855. 00 0.-••100 Doz. Brooms, at Wholesale or Retailott PPAHIXIVS, Dec. 12.1857Loeuat street. • Compound of Syrup of Tar, Wild Cherry and ifoarhound, for the cure of Coughs, Colds, Whooping Cough. Croun„&e. For sale nt ItIcCOHICLE 4k. DP:I.I.ErrS Family Medicine Store, Odd Fellows' Hall October fn. I lirrA Patent Steam Wash 'Bolters. MIME well known Boilers nre kept constantly on 1 hand at HigNltY PEA IILER'S, Locust street , opposite the Franklin House. Columbia, July tB, t 657. lets for sale bythe bushel or larger quail viity by B. F. Al' POI.D, Cotumt; is Dec. 25, 1858. CIADai Belau. 'PURI and Superfine Flour, Buckwheat Flour, Corn Melo6 and whole Corn and 001 f. at Corner of Third and Union et reetp. pan. 8, '59. THORN'S Extinct or Coiabn Had Sareapari *ale at the Golden blort p ur Drug Store. March 27.1858. TOBACCO and %agars of the best brands. wholesale aud retail, at Jatso.. BRUNER'S. PRESERVE YOUR FRUITS. 1T1LL01 , ,3111311 , 8 Potent Air-Tight etopper, for . Fruit Preserving Cutts anti Jar-, This is a new oatent, and is entirely effectual in excluding the air.— The stoppers eon be hued to any kind of Jar or Can. The subscriber Is sole agent for Columbia. A barge supply of Jars and Cans of all kinds and sizes kept con stantly on hand. HENRY PPAITLIF;I2. June 13.1850. Lorust street. Columbia. Pa. Soap. ar Boxes of Duffey Brown Soap on hand and for sale low at the MIMI of Third and Union Ste. .August 11,1850. S ("sr Received ancrthe J beauSLLETT &CO'S dful lot of Vanilla ,el Ream, at . . D Golden 'Mortar Drug Store. Front Street. Suffer no longer with Corns. A T the Golden Mortar Drug Store roil can procure .1 - I.,an article %thigh is Canted to remove Corns to 43 hours, without pain or soreness, Ply Paper. ALAIfI'EFJOR article of Fly Paper. for %b deotrae• WOO Of Flies, ite., bar. jug been received at the 'Drug Store of R WILLIAMS, FroM street. Columbia, July 30,1859. garrison's Columbian Ink. ttrawn is a superior article, permanently' black. it and not corroding the pen, can tie had in au+ Quantity. at the Family Medietite Store, and blacker Yet to that English Boot Polish. Arlinatbia, Jose 11,1859.. New Brand of Chewiag Tobacco. TKEtrabaciiber has Joel. received 40 13oxes of their celebrated brand ..FP.NDRII:SP:.4 BALTIma RE BLACB,FAT CHEWING TOBACCO," which they offer at a very low rate. The Tobacco is a Anst-rate ankle, manufactured ettpretetly for thla market. The Philp two thick and pond. end the tobacco entirely tree freeze Aar deleterious substancs. FENDRICH it BROS , Aug. 10,•510. Front street, Columbia, Pa griettirms. From Dickens' Household Words Monsieur Bodry's Apparition. SI 10 CHAPTER 1 Exactly one hundred years ago, there lived in Paris, in the Rue Saint Martin, a rich silk merchant named Gombert. He was about sixty years of age, a widower, with an only child, a beautiful girl of nineteen, who was no less admired for her personal attractions than for the handsome fortune which she was likely one day to -inherit. Madeleine Gombert was, indeed, the great match of the quarter in which the silk mer chant dwelt, and if she did not marry it was not certainly for want of suitors. A hundred years ago the reign of the Encyclopedists had begun, their doctrines had penetrated far and wide, and religion was going out of fashion; but a stranger accidentally dropping into the church of Saint Merri, on a Sunday morning, would have concluded, from the number of young men who knelt at mass and sat out the ser mon, that devotion had—at all events—lost no ground in that quarter of the city. He would, however, have been wrong; the cause of this crowd of devotees arising simply from the fact, that Saint Merri was the par ish church of Monsieur Gombert and his daughter, and that to see and possibly at tract the notice of the beautiful Madeleine, had a great deal more to do with their at tendance than the sincerity of their faith, or their admiration for the preacher.— Whether Madeleine Gombert was aware, or not, of the sensation which her presence ex cited, I will not pretend to say; the chances are, that feminine instinct set her right on this point, though it did not influence her conduct. As for Monsieur Gombert, he was as far as possible from putting a riklit construction on this peculiar demonstration; to doubt was not his habit. He accepted ' everything literally, and believed religious ly in all he saw. Of course, it was never intended by na ture or custom, by Madeleine Gumbert or her father, that the possessor of so much wealth should go to the grave unwed. Her marriage had, in fact, been a thing decided on, after the usual French mode of that time—where there was anything to marry for—while she was yet a child. The busi ness of the silk merchant of the Rue Saint Martin had thrown him in very close rela tions with a rich manufacturer of the city of Lyons, of the name of Bodry. As the connection increased, the desire arose on each side to cement it by the union of the two families. Monsieur Bodry had an only son, Monsieur Gombert an only daughter. Could anything ho more natural than compact between two capitalists, the terms of which should he, that Monsieur I3odry's son should marry Mons. Gombert's daugh ter. #0 3 Although the proposed marriage of Hen ri Bodry and Madeleine Gombert was an ar rangement of ten years' standing between their parents, which needed no consent on the part of the contracting parties, still, with the view of making them acquainted, Mons. Budry one fine morniag, consented to the re quest of his son, that he might go to Paris to see his betrothed, a few months before he came of age; on which occasion the nup tials were to take place. The young * man felt, without doubt, a certain degree of cu riosity respecting the person who was to be his partner for life; but—if the truth must be told,—he was, though of feeble con- I stitution and uncertain health, extremely fond of pleasure. Then as now, Paris was the focus of enjoyment, and to have his full swing of the capital before be settled down for good was the thing of all others which the i young Lyonnese most ardently desired.— Supplied then with a full purse and the let ter of introduction to Monsieur Humbert, which constituted his sole credentials, Hen ri Bodry set out from his native city about the latter end of November, in the year seventeen hundred and fifty-seven. A hundred years ago, the journey from Lyons to Paris was an affair of time. Or dinary travelers usually went by 'outage, and consumed nearly twenty days on the road; but the wealthier middle classes as pired to the coche, a lumbering carriage without springs, nearly as heavy and almost as slow as the public wagon, but infinitely more genteel. As the roulier did not com port with the dignity of Henri Bodry, be took the coche. In those days of rare in tercourse between places separated by any great distance, it seldom happened that the traveller, who was going all the way, met with a companion similarly intentioned-- For the most part, people descended at in termediate towns, where others supplied their places; but it not infrequently chanced that a dreary blank with no new faces inter vened, creating that worst of all sensations a Frenchman can experience, the intolerable ennui of having nobody to talk to. Henri Bodry's prospect at starting was of the latter cheerless character; for, after passing Trevoux, he found himself the sole occupant of the coche, and this irksome sol itude lasted until be reached the ancient city of Macon. The cootie, as soon as it was dark, put up for the night at the au berg* called the Cross of Burgundy. and in a large room, containing four beds, the usual compliment at that time, Henri was left to sup and sleep, and make it out bow ho might until eight o'clock on the follow ing morning, when the vehicle would be ones more in motion. "NO ENTERTALNISIENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUALI3IA, EkIiNINSYLVAINIA, SA.D.JitDAY AUILNING, OCTOBER 8, 1859. With a long November evening before him, the prospect was not a pleasant one; but, while he was waiting for his promised supper, a stranger entered the apartment, dre-sed as if for a journey, and carrying a small valise in his hand. He was a young man, apparently about thesame age as Bodry, good-looking, and of a cheerful, pleasant countenance. After bestowing a glance on the occupant of the chamber, the stranger looked about hint, as if to see which bed was unoccupied, and then took possession of one of them by throwing his cloak, hat, and valise upon it. This act of appropria tion performed, he approached the table where Bodry sat, and, without any preamble, asked him if he was traveling, and which way he was going. With the frankness of his age, Henri at once told himhis destina tion, at which the new-comer expressed great satisfaction, he being also bound for Paris, and, as freely as be had inqaired, went on to say that he had come some dis tance across the country, was very cold and hungry, and, if Monsieur had not already eaten his supper, would be most happy in being permitted to share that meal with him. Bodry was dAighted to have a companion so agreeable, and acquiesced in the proposal most rerdily; the supper was soon served, and over a battle of Moulin a Vent, the wine fur which Macon is still( so famous, the young men rapidly made acquaintance. At twenty years of age there are no re serves; Bnciry entered into his own affairs without the slightest concealment, described his position, stated the object of his journey and fairly acknowledged, in reply to a laughing question from the other, that he had no great vocation for his impending marriage. In return of this confession, the stranger said his name also was Henri—Henri Blair eau,—the son of an avocat nt Bourg, en- Bresse; that he was not over-hurthened with money, but hoped to acquire it by following his father's profession, after he had studied enough law at the college in the Rue St. Jean de Beauvais. As to the law itself, it was not his choice; ho would rather have spent a fortune than be at the trouble at making one,—hut what would you have? The intimacy which thus sprang up be tween the travelers was not diminished by the time they reached Paris. On the con trary, it had grown into a strong friendship. Their habits and tastes were so closely al lied, that what the one proposed, the other was sure to agree to. Amongst the subjects which engaged them during the latter part of their journey was the question where they should lodge on their arrival in the capital. Bodry knew nothing of Paris, and therefore made no ob jection to the Quartier Latin when it was proposed by Blaireau; so they went to the Ecu d'Argent, in the Rue des Carmes—an auberge which the latter had heard his father Traise, when slightly in his cups, as being the only place in Paris for drinking Yin de Beaune. It was not a fashionable part of the town, but the college was near and the residence of Mons. Gombert not re mote. Notwithstanding this proximity, it seemed that neither love nor law was meant to be the first consideration with Messieurs Bodry and Blaireau. Together they saw the Mar ionettes on the Boulevard du Temple, to gether they went to dance at the gardens of the Colisee; together they dined at the Mou lin de Janelle, the most celebrated of all the extra-mural taverns of Paris; together, they went everywhere, in short, except to the College of Law and the Church of Saint hlerri. One evening, when they were returning home, accident led them through the Rue Saint Martin, and a qualm of conscience came over Bodry when he remembered that he bad been already three weeks in the cap ital without delivering his letter of introduc tion or making any inquiries after Monsieur Gombert and Mad'lle Madeline. A qualm of conscience sometimes arises from a physi cal cause. Henri Bodry was a little out of sorts, and proposed—like a certain gentle+ man when he fell sick—to do something ex traordinary by way of amendment. When he reached the Ecu d*Argent, however, he felt so much worse that' he wont directly to bed; in the course of the night he was seized with a violent fever, and, though it in some degree abated the following morning, he re mained very ill. Nothing could exceed the kindness and attention of Henry Blaireau. He sat by his friend's bedside all night, ministered to all his wants, soothed him by his care and encouraged him by bir conver ration. Bodry's discourse turned chiefly on what was uppermost in his mind at the moment of his seizure; and his desire to make the long•neglected visit was increased by a let ter which arrived from Lyons, asking him many questions respecting the silk mer chant's family. But it was in vain he strove to rise; the fever still held him in thrall; yet, in the perversity of his malady, he per sisted in declaring that the visit must imme diately be paid. Henri Blaireau urged that Monsieur Gombert was not aware of his being in Paris, with various other argu ments, and concluded by saying that, if his friend desired it, he would go to the Rue Saint Mediu and explain the circumstances of the case. This last suggestion operated singularly on the mind of the feverish invalid. Yes! Blaireau should go as he proposed; but he must not say a word about his illness, he must present himself as the real Bodry— keep Blairenu entirely out of sight—and by and by, when he was able to appear in per eon, they might make merry over the joke and laugh itentirelv away. Blaireau com bated this proposition at first; but, finding that bia objections only increased his friend's nervous irritability, he consented. His task was not a difficult one, for Mon sieur Gombert knew very little of his cor respondent's domestic affairs, and nothing personally of his future son-in-law. The worthy silk merchant embraced his visitor with all the effusion which the approaching connection seemed to warrant, and met with a demonstration no less cordial. It was in Monsieur Gombert's counting-house that the greeting took place, but, the greeting over, the scene was changed to an inner apart ment, whore Madeleine with her bonne, who had nursed her from her cradle, was occu pied with her embroidery. A feeling-al most akin to envy was Blairenu's first sen sation on seeing the beautiful girl to whom Bodry was betrothed, but it lasted only a moment, being quickly superseded by the pleasure he experienced in looking at, and conversing with her. At the end of a couple of hours he found himself head over ears in love. On the other hand, the impression which he appeared to have made on Mon sieur Gombert and his daughter, and on the old nurse, who had a voice in everything, was all he could have desired, provided al ways that he had been Henri Bodry, and not his temporary substitute. Unwillingly at last, he rose to take his departure, and lingered R 9 he pressed the hand of Madeleine Gombert, which was not, he fancied, too suddenly withdrawn; neither did the expression of her countenance con vey the idea that he would not be welcome when he renewed his visit. All this was consistent enough with the relation in wl*eh Henri Bodry stood towards the flintily Gom bert; but, somehow or other, Blaireau could not divest himself of the notion—which ninety-nine Frenchmen out of a hundred would have entertained—that no small share of the reception accorded to him was a tribute to his own personal qualities. On his return to the Rue des Cavities, he found llenri Bodry much worse. A physi cian was sent fur; Blaireau was unremitting in his attention, but the fever increased alarmingly, and as evening drew on, he be gan to fear for his friend's life. At Bodry's request, Blaireau related to him all the par ticulars of the interview in the Rue Saint Martin, and the subject still engrossed the mind of the sick young man, to the exclu sion of every other. Even when conscious of his own danger, he still continued the theme. "I have often been ill," he said, "but never felt before as I feel now. Should I die, Henri Blaireau, promise me here, that you will still be Henri Budry. Think what a desolation it would be to Monsieur Gom. bert and Madeleine to be told of my death! Marry her, for my sake; then, I shall feel that I have done my duty in giving her the husband she expected. No, no, I am not lightheaded, I know very well what I say. Unless you promise this, I cannot dio con tent." Blaireau felt convinced that his friend's mind was wandering, but to keep him quiet, he again promised all that was required. For half an hour Budry remained silent, and his anxious attendant believed he slept; but suddenly ho rose up in bed, and a distress ing change was apparent; his breathing be came short and thick, his voice was faint And low, the hand of death was evidently upon him. Grasping Blaireau's arm con vulsively, as if striving to draw him closer, he feebly whispered the word "Remember!" and then fell back dead. = It was ten o'clock at night, and Mona. Gombert was alone in his counting-house. Everything was silent in the apartment but the ticking of one of those large clocks white-faced, blue-figured, and highly be dizened with gilding, which we call of the age of Louis Quatorze, though they belong to the time of his great grandson. That clock had just struck ten, and the last stroke had hardly ceased to vibrate when Mon sieur Gombert, who happened to raise his head, became aware of some one who was standing near the door. He had not heard anybody enter, perhaps because he had been absorbed in his accounts, and his astonishment—not unmixed with fear, for he was of a nervous and timid nature—was very great. "Who is there?" he asked with hesita tion. "Is that—you—Jacques?" Jacques was Monsieur Gombert's confi detial clerk; but no Jacques replied, and the silk merchant remained speechless, with his eyes still fixed on the figure, which now slowly advanced a few steps, and, as it seemed to him, without a noise. As the figure drew nearer, though the light from his solitary candle was very dim, Monsieur Gombert pereeived a pale, hollow face, which wore an expression of great anxiety; the eyes were wide open and glittered ex ceedingly, and a quantity of dark hair streamed wildly. Monsieur Gombert gasped for utterance, but it was denied him. The appearance came nearer still, and - then Monsieur Gombert imagined—bUt doubted, notwithstanding—that—that he recognized features he had lately seen. This supposi tion gave him a glimmer of courage. "My friend," he said, "what brings you here at this hour?" "Death!" answered the figure, in a deep, sepulchral voice. "How! Death! Has any misfortune ar rived?" 1 "The greatest that can happen to man. Henri Budry died an hour ago. I come to invite you to his funeral?" "Yuul youl But you are Henri Bodry!" "I was—this morning!" "Ah! Mon .Dieul" exclaimed the mer chant, and fell senseless from his stool. At his outcry and the noise he made in falling, Madeleine and old Petronille, the bonne, who were at work in the next room, rushed into the counting-louse. They supposed Monsieur Gumbert was in a fit, and hastily applied such remedies as they could devise. After a few minutes the silk merchant opened his eyes. "Where is he?" he said, looking round with horror. "Who, sir?" asked Madeleine. "What do you mean?" "Who?" he repeated slowly, again look ing round him, "Who? Henry Bodry. lie was here this moment." "Impossible, .3ir!" said Petronille. "You were alone when we came, which we did on the instant you called out. There was not the shadow of a person in the room" - "The shadow!" returned Monsieur COM hem "Ali, that is it, The shadow. It was no living being." "I beseech you, my father," said Made leine, "to tell us what is the matter. You look ill and frightened," "I have reason to be so," replied Mons. Gombert. have seen a spi.it." lle then, as collectedly as he could, re lated what had. occurred. "This is a fancy." said Madeleine. Mon sieur Gnmbert shook his "head. "A dream," observed Petronille. "You supped well on that famous goose of Alert cou—you had more than one glass of Bur gundy, in honor of Monsieur Bodry"—the silk merchant shivered—"over your books rotor supper, a wrong time, you became very sleepy, an indigestion arrived—there!" Ingenious reasoning, but not satisfactory to Monsieur Gomilert. "I saw him," he persisted, "as distinctly as I see either of you. It was the face of a dead man. He invited me to his funeral." These words and the earnestness with which Monsieur Gornhert spoke infected Madeleine and Petronille with some of his own fear; they also looked timidly about them, dreading to behold some hideous np- parition. Mademoiselle Gombert was the first to regain her presence of mind. "Let somebody be sent at once to ask news of him." This suggestion was immediately adopted. Jacques, the confidential clerk, who lived in the house with the rest, was thought the most proper person to employ; and, without being rnude aware of the motive which had led to his errand, was directed to ask if Mon sieur Henri Bodry, would come and see Monsieur Gombert directly. In less than half an hour he returned, with a counte nance much discomposed: "Sir," said he, to Monsieur Gombert, "I bring you very sad tidings. The young gentleman who came here this morning so full of life and spirits, died about an hour ago!" Madeleine Gombert was thunderstruck. She could scarcely believe her ears. But it was more than astonishment. There was a pang at her heap That fine, handsome young man, who so much interested herl Monsieur Gombert felt very ill, and went at once to bed. Old Petronille and his daughter kept watch beside him with as many candles burning as there were candle sticks in the house to hold them; and, fur ther, to scare away all evil spirits, Made leine read aloud the Office des Monts, Mon sieur Gombort joining fervently at the end of every psalm with the %anthem "lieu So much affected, indeed, was the honest silk merchant by the sudden death of hie correspondent's son, that he did not got the better of the shock for several days. To attend Henri Bodry's funeral was entirely out of the question; and the knowledge that it had taken place while ho was confined to his room, materially contributed to his re covery. "Once fairly underground," though Mon sieur Gotubert, "ho is not so likely to pay one another visit, unless—unless"—and this doubt harrassed bitn sorely, "unless he is vexed at my not having complied with his wishes." As for Madeleine, poor girl, she talked over the sad event with old Petronillm it was the only consolation she could find fur the loss of her lover. She also sought com fort in devotion, and instead of going now and then when the .ay was fine, went regu larly morning and evening to mass in the church of Saint Merri. (TO RC CONTINTED.I The White Apron It might be a curious question, worth ask ing and moertaining, of persons whose names are famous in history or prominent among the heroic traditions of war, how largo is the proportion composed of those who have greatness thrust upon them, com pared to individuals who, by the virtues of true courage, perseverance, boldness and sa gacity, have achieved it fur themselves? _ It is at all events one that rises to the mind after hearing the story of Johanna Stegen, a fortunate milkmaid of Luneberg, who, by no particular effort of her own, save a forced compliance, rose to fame, niti- $1,50 PER YEAR, IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE. irate elevation in rank, and extreme pros perity. In 1813 the French, greatly to the disgust of the conquered, still occupied Luneberg. A time, however, was at hand when the power that deemed itself all but omnipotent, was to totter, and presently fall down amidst the well earned execrations of all Europe. But it is the story of the fortunate milk maid which is the object of this paper, not the progress and termination of the first Na poleon's wars. On the outskirts of Lunebcrg there stood then, and very possibly still remains, a lit tle settlement of rnilch farm-houses. The inhabitants of this village which is called Grimm, carried on a brisk trade by supply ing the lacteal fluid in largo quantities to Luneberg, which city depended mainly on these farms for the important article of diet. Our heroine, Johanna, was employed in one of these rural dairies, and was, in short, just a tnilkmaik and nothing more. Truth com pels her biographer to state that there was I.ttie enough of the picturesque in our Jo hanna's per,onal appearance, and that she had even more than the usual bucolic attri butes of robust health and florid bloom, charms accompanied moreover by looks whose redness was a fact beyond all contra. dection. But Fate, the mighty, can overcome all; and, for anything we know, could make even an empress, of a short, stout, red headed, dairy-woman. Little indeed Johanna dreamed when— her milk-pail slung from her square shoul ders—she issued forth on a certain morning, the exact date of which the present biogra pher fairly owns to have been unable to as certain; little did she dream or think—sop posing she was even in the habit of thinking. to which practice, luckily fur their health and rigor, milk-maids ere not prone—that fo , tune was waiting still, in no far-off nook, to invest her with all that the heart of wo man is said—mind, only siad—to love best, viz.: rank, homage, wealth, and fame, - By Johanna's side, on that memorable morning, came forth at the same time, sim larly laden, a being, gentler and fairer, thlugh in all likelihood no better nurtured or cultivated than her companion. This young person was an assistant dairymaid, and in this narrative, with the courteous readers leave, shall be called Caroline. These girls were bound on their usual er rand, tuking to Luneberg supplies of rich creamy fluid. They chatted and sang and laughed on their road from Grimn. to Lune berg, a distance of probably not 'more than a mile and a half. Suddenly, as they were nearing the city, Johanna, halted. "What dost thou stare at?" says Caroline, in the guttural German. "I see nothing." "Canst bear neither, perhaps," answered Johanna, raising her hand and pointing. And now indeed Caroline heard. sharp and loud reports, which gave her an idea, expressed curtly enough. "Fighting, eh!" queth Caroline. "Come on," answered Juhanna; "the milk must go to Luneberg, if Bony himself be there! We're late enough now, I tell you." Fur Caroline showed symptoms of turning back towards Grimm, a tendency to cowardism which plainly proves her to have no pretensions to be a heroine, and which ought to reconcile us to her ultimate ly. "Come on, I tell you, fool! they won't hurt us!" "Nu; but the bullets moy. Hark! there they go—pop! pop! Juhauna, never mind the milk—let the people want their break fasts fur once." • But, arguing thus, they still walked on: and, as it proved, marched right into the lion's mouth. When it was too late, oven fur women as they were, to retreat, they found themselves right in the midst of Prus sian and Russian soldiers, who, up to that moment, had been pouring their fire against Luneberg. There wns, however, just then, a momentary forced cessation of hostilities on the side of the assaulting party, and, in fact, the French were rapidly gaining the advantage. An accident had occurred.— Close before Johanna and Caroliao, a cart laden with cartridges had been overturned, and its contents were strewed on the ground. No one was near it save a dead trooper or two, and one who was just expiring. Caro line, tender and thoughtful woman, ran up to this wretch, and held a draught of milk to his dying lips, but Johanna claps her hands, crying out— "Rouleaux! rouleausl Come quick, end help me Caroline:" She took the cartridges for rouleaux of coin, which they somewhat resemble. Jo hanna and her companions both wore large white aprons with big rockets, not like those of grisettes on the stage, but good substan tial ones, fit to hold a half-quartern Johanna filled these as quickly as she could pick her spoil up, quite oblivious to the bul lets from Luneberg, which bailed aronnol her—as oblivious of them, in her thirst for getting quickly rich, as was Caroline, for a better, holier motive. In after times, I think the look of gratitude which _beamed from the dying soldier's eyes, the broken words of blessing which dropped from his white lips, must have been a dearer, more blessed 'memory to the heart of her who, naturally timid, forgot that timidity under the influence of woman's holiest promptings of tenderness and mercy, than the subse quent homage, the brilliant fortune show ered on the being who, with eager eyes and avaricious grasp, was busily employed in cramming her pockets with that which in. [WHOLE NUMBER 1,-5210. deed ultimately proved more valuable to wards her aggrandizement than the gold fur which ehe took the packages strewed around But Johanna's career of greedy acquire ment is speedily stopped. A Prussian co lonel rides hastily up. lie has no idea of the girl's self-deception. lle hastily dubs her in his mind—a mind heated by the ex citement of action—as an ardent heroine— aspiring to aid his troops in their temporary distress. "3.1 y bravo girl: these pockets will not hold enough; fill your apron. Quick! here, young woman!" (to Caroline, who still knelt by the dying,) "do the same—as one goes the other can come back:" There was no murmur of disobedience possible. Here was the terrible Prussian flaming with loud voice, stern in command, indisputable in authority. Johanna was .psite unconscious of the admiration with which the great man, whom she leek fur a general at least, viewed her. l'car alone made the gill obey, and, indeed, as her re treat was by this time cut off by a body of advancing troops, to go back was impossi ble, to go forward unadvisable. ller accept ance of the d uty imposed was; however, as prompt and ready as if the action bud real lv emanated from herself. Sue was always sturdy and bustling, and not less so now, when bullets whi4tled around, and she was in mortal fear. Quickly she filled her apron and as quickly ran with her burden to the poor fellows who, fur the want of them, were rapidly picked off by the French fire, man by man. As she , returned, Caroline performed the same good office; so, back wards and forwards, amidst a rattling fire, midst vullies of no lees fiery oaths, midst blood, carnage, the groans of the dying, the carcasses of the dead, did Johanna Stegea and Caroline Burger:carry pail after pail of cartridges, distributing them to the troopers till the day advanced, and the allies bad gained the victory—gained it, as all to a luau declared by the heroic conduct of a woman—that woman Johanna Stegen. Caroline, her pale face heated by the dan ger and stern excitement of the scene, equally arduous, equally—even more gea erously--oblivious of danger, is permitted, unnoticed, unthanked, to make her way back as best she can to Grimm, there to amaze the pastoral inhabitant 9 with the re cital of that adventurous and blood stained morning. Our Johanna. ava net too much over powered by hashfulne , s to remain on the field, waiting fur applause and thanks. She had wit enough to see that she was appre elated beyond what she merited. However, just then, every one was too busy with re joicing and hopes of plunder to notice her, whom they considered vietress of the day. As, weary and disappointed, she was about to return to Grimm. the same Colonel who had directed the milk-girl's aim: rode up to her, hot, and ready to drop off his horse with fatigue. _ "My girl—quick—your apron—give it to me! Not a word—off with it—that's right. Now Tour name—Johanna—Johanna what? Johanna Stegen. So! Now my lads, on ward! Stragglers, fall hada" And thereupon one of the stragglers, who could not comprehend what that grand, terrible, tierce soldier c mid want with her apron, now half dirty, stained with blood and the moisture of her weary brow, fell back at the word of command, and present ly changing her mind about Grimm, she slowly followed in the rear of the army, who acknowledged her as its preserver, and who by this time had hoisted her apron in front of the troops as an ensign and emblem of how great a victory bad been won. Arrived ;it Luneberg, our milkmaid—who as yet, knew not she might place the ad jective fortunate before her name—went at once to the house of her mother, who (a poor widow) gained hard bread and little enough salt by cleaning and washing. She feared perhaps to return to Grimm, where heroism was likely to kick the beam when weighed against the loss of sundry pails of milk, wasted or seized by thirsty fellows as lawful spoil, and for which she had not the means of paying. She claimed the shelter of the maternal roof, and related her ad venture to her mother—not without many reproaches on the part of that virtuous ma tron for interfering nmangst a pareel of rap scallion soldiers, who ate, drank and de voured that night at the expense of Lone ber4. But Johann triumph rowe noxt day with the ann. The King of Prussia took possession of the city, and the first sot of royalty was to make a proclamation for the owner of the White Apron, who was by no mcana backward in creeping forth frotsithr obsearity„ That night n ;Tend banquet was held at the Schloss Lnneberg, and Johntrn& sat et the monarch's right hand. - Robust and florid es she was, no belle nttraeted such nniversal notice or admiration au this fortu nate mill med. !Ter glowing heir was called golden, her ruddy checks blooming, and her form was admired for its strength, if it was not exactly extolled for grace: Success is your true beautifier—the elixir which bestows youth and beauty; and which fails in its effect only when the sun of "For tune sets. The girdle of good luck once thrown around the thickest waist, it tie : comes to every beholder as Venus'. ?we; and those whom the blind goddess has mystißed by the bandage of her own-'eyes, are. et any time, ready to swear black ii
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