.(t1).". ~.74:,tar(ti7-ot,.(_-....ittdti'v/.it,.'t. VOL. LXI. THE LANCASTER INTELLIGENCER PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY, AT NO. 8 NORTH DUMF. STREET, BY GEO. SANDERSON. TERMS SUBSCRIPTION.—Two Dollars Per annum; payable in ad vance. No subscription discontinued until all arrear ages are paid, unless at the option of the Editor. linvramessurtre.—Advertisements, not exceeding one square, (12 lines,) will be inserted three times for one dollar, and twenty-five cents for each additional inser tion. Those of greater length in proportion. Jos Panama—Such as Hand Bills, Posters, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Sic., dec., executed with accuracy and on the shortest notice. THE OLD MAN'S NEW YEAR BY ANNIE N. SAWYER. We are Sitting by the firelight, My gray-haired sire and I, And on this happy New Year's night Silent I sit and sigfi ; And many times this evening drear I've wiped the bitter tear. The merry day we had last year— The children's noisy glee— As grandpa's olden tale to hear, Each tried to climb hie knee; While song, and laugh and joyous dance, Through these old rooms did glance. I think my father strange to-night; His thoughts are wandering now; Still I see by the fitful light, Unwrinkled is his brow ; And I hear murmured words the while I note his happy smile. Ah ! he has'dreamed him back again Into those buried years, That now seem quite as free from pain As these seem full of years; His brave, and glad, and beauteous youth, So strong in love, in truth. Loved forms of those old days flit by ; "Alice," (I hear him say,) "Come closer; why are you so shy? You'll be my wife to-day;" Ills trembling arm he raises now, Ile bends to kiss her brow. Poor, feeble man—his pale lips old Meet but the mocking air; His was the tale so often told— Alice was false as fair. His dream is changed—a New Year's day Holds o'er him joyous sway. And standing closely by his side, My mother, tender, true; While sacred words make her his bride, One heart, where first were two; And now he tells how one by one Sweat children blessed their home. It makes my tears fall down like rain, To hear hiS whispers low, As she were with him once again— Why she died long years ago, Tho' now, he speaks but of last year, When some we loved were here. "Now, Sam," he calls, "come hither, child, To thee our Nell we've given;" (To-night Sam's on the ocean wild, And Ellen is in Heaven)— And yet he sees them by his knee, Oh, that I dreamed as he! But hush! he wakes, his voice is low, liis words are very sweet— " Lost darlings sleeping 'neath the snow, You all I soon shall meet. Let me, 0 gracious Lord, I pray, Keep with them New Year's day." There was no gleam of angel wings, No voice the silence stirred, • I caught no glimpse of heavenly things, And yet the prayer was heard; Before the blessed New Year broke, In Heaven his soul awoke: The Old Guard ; or, the Cross of the Legion of Honor. , A ROMANCE OF THE DAYS OF NAPOLEON I CHAPTER I Honor the brave and bold! Long' shall the tale be told, Yea, when our babes are old— How they rode onward !—Tennyson Now—now--now for the charge of the Old Guard ! On, on they rush ! I see the bear-skin cap and steel-clad figures of Cuirassiers, the green uniform of the Chasseurs, and my own brave Mamelukes, with their snow-white turbans, and their long heron plumes, streaming in the wind ! Forward, my men—forward ! keep the eagles flying !' With these words, the dying warrior sank back on the coarse blankets which formed his couch, his features working con vulsively, and one hand pressed hard on his wounded side, while the other threaded the blood-drenched masses of hair, which swept back from his clammy brow. He was an officer in the squadron of Mame luke Guides, who had served Napoleon in Egypt, and having followed his fortunes, had been incorporated into the Imperial Guard, and • who, with their gorgeous -Turkish costume, their keen Damascus blades, their trumpets and timbrels, pre sented such a striking picture when they dashed forward on their fiery chargers.— That night the Grand Army, with its wizard' commander at its head, had bivouacked under the walls of Vienna, but they had won their way to the Austrian capital by many a hard-fought battle, and in the charge of Anserp, this gallant officer had fallen. Around him, and distinctly revealed by the lurid glare of the watch fire near, were gathered his corps of Mame luke warriors, their turbaned heads bowed, their unique standard lowered, their noisy instruments silent, while the chief surgeon bent over him, and, close by, wrapped in a gray cloak, and wearing a plain chapeau, stood Napoleon, the Conqueror. For a few moments after he had sunk down, apparently exhausted, the dying man lay mute and motionless, but at length he started up, and waving his arm aloft, shouted— g There, there, the battle is gained—the tri-color floats over Vienna! Victorie— victorie ! Vive le Empereur !' He had spoken with rapid utterance, his swart cheek reddening, his dark eyes flash ing fire, but as the French rallying cry died from his purple lips, he once more fell back powerless. Poor fellow—poor Ibraham !' said Na poleon, in a compassionate tone ; had you been my own countryman, you could net have'served me better. Mon Dieu ! 'Twas an ugly sabre-cut which sent you reeling from your saddle !' And drawing nearer, he smoothed the gory hair, and taking off his chapeau, fanned with it the flushed face of the suf ferer. They fly—the Austrians fly—push them across the river, comrades !' mut tered the Mameluke, and then his eyes closed wearily. Still he babbled now and then, but had forgotten the sky of the North, stretching out like a vast waste above, the camping ground, with its tents and its watch-fires, the silent host, the solid squares of the Old Guard enclosing the Emperor, the sentinels pacing to and fro, the chill winds sighing through the boughs of the great trees, and the mighty Danube, which seemed dark as the Stygian stream. His last hours were haunted by dreams of the solemn Pyramids, the grim Sphinxes, the mosques and tombs and obelisks of Egypt. Again the tropic sky arched over him ; again he saw the red and troubled waters of the stately Nile, the sycamores, acacias and feathery palms upon its banks, and the white ibes and bright-plumed ;flamingo, feeding amid the tall reeds and the snow bloom of the lotus.. Again the dusky haired maiden he had loved in his youth rose before him, with the dark spdendor of her eyes beaming through the misty folds of her veil, and her voice coming softly down to him as he moored his caique be neath the rose-wreathed lattices of her fairy-like kiosk. Zenobia ' he murmured, my heart has never failed its devotion to you. I love you as no man ever loved before; your eyes are brighter than the stars, your cheek fairer than the lily of Ethiopia, your lips redder than the ripe pomegranate—l am here at your feet, your slave. Oh, let me call you mine, sweet one !' He paused, mused a while, and then, as his whole countenance grew grave, went on— You could not requite my passion ; you wedded another, but I have stood by you in your hour of need. I have faithfully kept the promise I made you on your death bed. I have been father, mother, sister, brother--every thing to your little Char main.' Again he stoppod short, his face paled and then crimsoned with excitement—his breath came gaspingly up. Charmain , ---Charmain !' he called, in a voice that rang like a bugle blast through the encampment ; come hither, child.— Your mother and I have met in the valley of shadows—tell her, I conjure you, that I have dealt by you most tenderly.' As the word Charmain ' passed his lips, a slight figure that had been lying in a corner of the tent, sprang from the hard camp-bed, and darted toward the dying Mameluke. That form was clad a la Turque, and slender as it was, had borne the French eagles on many a battle-field.— That face was almost as colorless as the turban bound about the brow, but the features were delicately chiselled, the eyes large, lustrous and heavily fringed, like those of the women of the East, and full of a dreamy languor, and short curls clustered thickly around the graceful neck. You called me, said this person, grasp ing the sufferer's hand. Yes, yes,' was the quick answer. Nay, nay, not so,' interposed Napo leon ; his mind is thronged with delirious fancies—it was Charmain, a female name, he spoke—not that of Ismail, the standard bearer. Go back to your rest, boy.' The dying man looked up, with the light reason shining in his eyes. I have been delirious, my Emperor,' he said, but lam not now—l realize all, all—l am dying—the death-stricken should have no secrets. The young stand ard-bearer's real name is Charmain—be fore I left Egypt she was entrusted to my care. What could I do ? I could not leave her there, and so arrayed her in boy's costume, and took her from place to place thus disguised. She is a brave girl, my Emperor, but it will not be fitting for her to remain in the Grand Army when I am gone. To your Majesty and the Old Guard I entrust her.' Napoleon glanced at the standard-bear er, over whose cheek the blush of maiden ly coyness was stealing, and laying his hand on her head, replied— , Sire Mameluke, in my own name and that of the Imperial Guard, I accept the charge.' A smile flashed over the countenance of the sufferer, like a ray of sunshine. Blessings on you, my Emperor he gasped ; I can die in peace.' There is a priest hard by,' said the surgeon; had we not better summon him to shrive the departing soul Napoleon bowed assent, and ere long a Roman chaplain appeared. Wake ye—wake ye!' he cried, grasping the warrior's arm. Go not into the eternal world unannointed, unshriven ! Behold the emblem of the true, church !' Ibraham started and gazed searchingly at the priest and the symbols of Catholic worship. Daring the years which had come and gone since he joined Napoleon's host, he had witnessed the imposing rites of the Papal religion ; but now smoking censers, and waxen tapers, and glittering shrines, and peals of organ music had ceased to captivate his fancy. Once more olden memories grew strong within him—he watched the Moslem pilgrims winding their weary way across the Great Desert to Mecca ; he heard the muezzin calling to prayers ; he mingled in the solemn festi vals of his native land, and his last words were— There is but one God, and Mahomet is his prophet !' Then a spasm shook his frame, a mortal paleness overspread cheek and brow, a strange rigidity settled on every limb— another of the Old Guard was gone ! CHAPTER II Months had passed since the events nar rated in the preceding chapter. The Mam eluke warrior, whose death scene we have described, had found a grave by the broad, deep Danube ; the peace of Vienna had been concluded ; and a part of the Grand Army had gone to carry on the war Na poleon was waging both in the Tyrol and Spain. But the Imperial Guard took no part in either—it was sent back to Paris to recruit. That gay city had been gayer than ever with the festivities attendant on the second marriage of the Emperor, with the daughter of the Csars—the Arch duchess Marie Louise. In all this pageant ry his Guard had been conspicuous, and on a glorious autumnal morning they were drawn up in the-court of the Tuileries for a review, and another ceremony—the pub lic adoption of the young girl whom the dying Mameluke had confided to their care. After the review had been finished, there was a solemn silence, broken only by the occasional clang of a spurred heel, or the plunge of some impatient steed ; but in the midst of this unusual hush a bugle blast arose, and rang loud and long on the clear, cold air. ' Advance !' cried the herald, waving his gilded baton, advance with Mademoiselle ellarmain !' Quick as thought the ranks parted, surging back on either side, like the waves of the restless sea, and the squadron of Mamelukes appeared, escorting a slight girlish figure, mounted on a snow-white palfrey, and arrayed, not as she had been when a standard-bearer, but in the cos tume of Eastern females. She wore an ample robe of crimson velvet, open in front, to reveal a skirt and Turkish trousers of the most delicate India muslin, from which peeped her dainty feet, .encased in jewel clasped sandals of white satin ; a turban of the same muslin encircled her graceful head, and was looped up with diamond aigrettes ; golden bands studded with bril liants glittered on her arms and ankles, and a splendid necklace rose and fell upon her breast with every breath, while ove. " THAT 00IINTRY 18 THS YOST PllOBlllll3OllB WHERE LABOR OOKKANDS TEI GREATEST /111WARD."-BUOITANAL LANCASTER CITY, PA., TUESDAY MORNING, MAY 8, 1860. all floated a veil of rare old Flanders lacer That cavalcade moved forward at a stately pace, till it reached the spot where Napoleon was awaiting them on his superb war-horse, Marengo, and then the quon dam standard-bearer reined in her palfrey at the Emperor's side. Soldiers of the Imperial Guard,' said Napoleon, in a clear and thrilling tone, , there is not one among your ranks who does not remember the brave Mamelnke officer, Ibraham, whom we left to moulder to dust on the banks of the Danube. In his last hours he committed this maiden ' —and now the Emperor laid his hand on the drooping head of the girl— , to me and his comrades of Le Gard Imperiale.' He stopped, but an almost breathless silence reigned throughout the court. He confirmed— In my own name and yours, I accepted the charge. What say you, soldiers, will you take the legacy poor Ibraham thus solemnly bequeathed ?' Yes, yes, yes,' ran like wildfire along the ranks. Napoleon smiled. That is like you, warriors of the Old Guard,' he replied, and now it is proper that .there should be a public adoption of Mademoiselle Charmain.' , Vive l'Empereur ! Vive l'Empereur ! Vive .Mademoiselle Charmain ! Vive Le Gard Imperiale P shouted the enthusiastic soldiery, and as soon as the tumult of ap plause had died away, Napoleon resumed : General Bessieres, come forward.' At this juncture the Commander of the Old Guard joined the group which had gathered immediately about the Emperor. Napoleon grasped his hand and continued : In the presence of these witnesses and the God above, I, as Emperor of France and Commander of the Grand Army, and you as General of the Old Guard, take upon us the guardianship of Mademoiselle Charmain.' A soft . „ blush rose to the girl's pale cheek, as shout after shout went ringing up into the tranquil sky.' The holy Madonna and all good saints help us to deal aright by the legacy of the dead !' exclaimed Napoleon, and then from the vast throng gathered about the Tuiler ies arose a solemn Amen.' The next moment Mademoiselle Char main, escorted by the Emperor and Bes seires, might have been seen riding along the lines, while wild acclamations rent the air. Thus the Egyptian girl was adopted by the Old Guard, and that night, at a brilliant fete, she went through the formu la of being presented at the court, from which Josephine had been banished, and where the fair and fickle Marie Louise now reigned queen. In the gorgeous throng assembled within those palatial walls, Charmain was followed, and flatter ed, and caressed enough to have turned an older head than hers. But in the midst of the glare of lights, the glitter of jewels, the sound of festal music, and the pleasant tumult of gay voices, her dark eyes often grew dim with tears, as she thought of the Mameluke warrior, who lay cold and still in a grave over which the grass had al ready grown green. It was late when, weary and sad in spite of the homage she had received, she glided into a little pavil ion in the gardens of the Tuileries. The moonlight stole softly in ; the air was spicy with the perfume of flowers, and close by an artificial stream made murmurous music. c Here I can rest awhile,' she said to herself. At that instant a shadow fell across the marble pavement, and, glancing round, she saw one of the musicians, be longing to the Mameluke squadron. Throw ing down his timbrel, he sank at her feet, and said earnestly— Oh, Charmain, Charmain, have you no word of welcome for me V Oh, yes, yes !' rejoined the maiden, the corps who came from Egypt with my more than father, and whom he loved so well, can never be unwelcome.' Heaven be praised !' ejaculated the youth; I had feared that all this adula tion would spoil you. You are no longer one of us, sharing our marches, bivouack ing in the open air, beating the French eagles on the battle-field. I foresee that Mademoiselle Charrnain, the ward of the Emperor and the Old Guard, is to be a very different person from the poor boy Ismail. Ah! much I still fear that she will like her palace-home better than the camp of the Grand Army, her new friends better than the old—but—but what I most fear is that some gallant young noble will win her love.' He paused, but she made no reply, and he went on— Girl, I may as well speak out—you are the light of my eyes—an irresistible fascination drew me toward you of my own sex, but now a wild love has taken posses sion of me. Say, can you return it The maiden hesitated an instant, and then faltered— Ido not know my own heart ! I have never regarded you as a lover—l must have time to think, ere I can give you an answer.' Well, be it so. I will wait—six months hence I will seek you again.' He gazed long and earnestly into her face, and stooping, left a kiss on her pale brow ; but the kiss roused no thrill in that girlish fiame, sent no flush to her cheek. The musician passed from her presence, and she was trying to compose herself to thought, when another intruder appeared ; he was a young man of most gallant bearing, and the curling lip and haughty curve of the neck, which some think be speak patrician blood. Mademoiselle Charmain !' ' Count Claude !' were the words hastily interchanged between him and the Egyp tian maid, and then he added— There is a brilliant array of beauty, and wit, and fashion, in the palace yonder, but the fete lost its charm for me when I missed you! 1 ventured to follow you— pardon me if I intrude, but do not, I beg you, do not banish me !' The lady made some confused reply, and they sat down together in the moon light, and time sped by on golden wings. gDo you know,' murmured the young soldier, as they parted, hours afterward, do you know the name Charmain fits you admirably? .Mon Dieu! Your mother must have had prophetic eyes when she bestowed it upon you.' And now he too bent to kiss her hand. What was it that made every nerve thrill, and her face burn with blushes 1 Ah ! the wizard spell of love was already upon her, the heart of the young ward of the Imperial Guard was beginning to awake ! In a spacious ohamber at St. Cloud, sat Mademoiselle Charmain. She was far more beautiful than when she shone a bright, particular star' at the review of the Old Gaurd and the royal fete, in which she made her debut at Napoleon's Court; her complexion had grown exquisitely clear, and through the creamy richness of her cheek, melted a glow delicate as that which flashes the peach blossom, or tints the lining of the sea shell ; the hair she had worn in short ringlets when a standard bearer, now swept about her face and shoulders in heavy curls ; her countenance had lost the weary, wistful expression which had touched so many hearts, but her large, dark, oriental eyes still had a pensive look which heightened the effect of her rare loveliness. That the orphan girl had found kind protectors was evident, not only from her personal appearance, but from all her surroundings. Her robe and jewels a sultana might have been proud to wear, while the room was furnish ed in the Eastern style, to make it seem like home to her. There were the gilding, and mirrors, and cool lattice;, and broad divans—the lotus and acacia flowers, the fig trees, jassamine and rose laurels, which called up memories of her native Egypt. But something more than these pleasant things rendered the maiden content in France ; it was the love-dream which had begun to brighten her young heart.— During the months which had come and gone since the Impe - rial Fete, where she had first seen Claude de Montveau, she had met him daily ; he had rode at her bridle-rein over the vine-clad hills, sailed with her on the blue river, loitered by her side under the great trees in the palace grounds, and stood by her chair as she touched her guitar and sang oriental songs. This dreamy girl, with her pale face, her dark, poetic eyes, and her quiet way, was a thousand-fold more fascinating to him than the sparkling and piquante beauties of the French Court, and his whole soul bowed in homage, not to the loveliness of her person alone, but to her pure, young heart. No word of love, however, had as yet passed his lips ; but now, as the twi light began to empurple the room, he rose from the divan on which he had been reclining, and said— ' I must leave you, Mademoiselle Char main, I ought to have been off an hour ago, for to-morrow I quit Paris.' (Quit Paris !' echoed the maiden, with a sudden start and burning blush, which told more than she would then have dared reveal in words. Yes, lady.' And whither are you going, pray have enlisted in the Grand Army ; shall go wherever its fortune leads me.' He paused, and for a time there was a painful silence. You do not speak,' at, length resumed the young count; but if I fall, I shall hope that you at least will regret my loss.' Again he paused for a reply. Charmain was silent, but her graceful head drooped low over her guitar, the crimson burned deeper on her cheek, and her eyes glisten ed as if she had crushed tears beneath their long and jetty lashes. Oh, Charmain,' cried De Montveau, sinking to his knees and uplifting his proud face, 4 I thought I was firm in my resolve not to avow the love which absorbs my whole being, till I could bring home from the battle-field some well earned laurels to lay at your feet with my heart and hand and fortune, but this hour un mans me. I cannot part with you till I tell you how wildly I love you. Say, Charmain, can my devotion awaken a response ?' The girl turned toward him a face like an April sky—all smiles and tears. hardly dare tell you,' she murmured, how dear you are to me.— Life will be a blank without you.' My own Charmain,' rejoined the lover, gathering her in his arms and kissing her cheek, lips and brow,' when I come back from Russia you will be my wife by the rites of the church—will you not?' I will, Claude. This hope will cheer me in your absence.' The young count hesitated an instant, and then said, in a low, tremulous tone— , But' dearest, as the ward of the Em peror and the Old Guard, you will meet the most distinguished men in the empire ; besides, your beauty and grace will bring many a suitor to your shrine. Will there never come an hour when you will wish to be free from the promise you have just made And the speaker's brow clouded at the dismal fancies he had conjured up. The girl gazed at him with a look of the keenest reproach. ' Oh, Claude, Claude,' she faltered, for such natures as mine there can be but one love ; can you not trust me Yes, yes, entirely. I was wrong in doubting you even for a moment, and as God bears me, I will be faithful to you.— We are now betrothed losers. Heaven smile upon our betrothal, ma there Char main !' Once more he stopped, and then, while the blood mounted to his temples, added— ' I believe it is the custom for a be trothed bride to wear some keepsake, as a seal of the vows which have exchang ed between her and her lover, and as I shall not see you again ere I leave Paris, I must beg you to accept this.' Unclasping from his watch-guard a quaint, golden charm of that exquisite Florentine workmanship so famous in days gone by, studded with pearls and rubies, and still exhaling some spicy Arabian per fume which the manufacturer had conceal ed within, he attached it to her necklace, and whispered— It has been an heir-loom in the De Montveau family, and therefore it is most fitting that my fiancee should wear it. If I return, I will replaoe it by a wedding ring ; if they bury me amid Russian snows, preserve it as a memorial. Adieu. God bless you, my beloved !' He_enfolded her in a convulsive em brace ; he felt the hot rain of Charmain's tears ;- he heard her sobs, her half-smoth ered prayers, and then tore himself from her, and hurried away. Night came on, serene and starry, but the girl heeded not the quiet beauty outside, nor the regal luxury of her saloons in the palace of St. Cloud. She was brooding over the past, the present and future, as linked. with Claude de Montveau, when a deep-toned voice near murmured, Charmain !' She started and glanced round the apartment—there, on the threshhold of a gilded door, leading into the balcony, stood the Mameluke musician, who had sued for her love on that memorable night, when both he and Claude followed her into the little pavilion in the garden of the Tuil leries. The rich color faded from her cheek, an& she could not summon strength to utter a word. Well,' he resumed, fixing hie dark and fiery eyes upon her, the time of proba tion has expired—l am here to know my fate. When I poured the story of my love into your ears, and pleaded for a return, you told me that you did not yet under stand your own heart. Since then you have studied it deeply, no doubt—what name is written there? Is it mine, fair Charmain No, no, Ali—as a friend I shall always prize you, but you can be nothing more !' Aye !' hissed the enraged Mameluke. Aye ! Did I not say Mademoiselle Char main would forgot old friends and cleave to new ones ? Girl, you love another— that smooth-tongued De Montveau has stolen the heart of the Egyptian maid ! You do not deny it, you dare not—you dare not—you blush, your tremor at the mention of the boy-faced noble betray what you may have thought a well-kept secret. Hark ye—he is the falsest of all false men !' I will not believe it,' was the firm but low reply. He is generous, and braire and true—he who thus slanders him can not be a welcome guest in the home of his betrothed wife !' Betrothed wife !' echoed the Mamelnke, fiercely, while his face grew tumultuous with the warring passions in his soul. He turned away, but as he did so, he drew his scimetar from its scabbard, muttering— ' This good blade might drink the knave's blood, but I have a sweeter revenge in store—l will crush his hopes, darken his life, give him wormwood and gall instead of the nectar he has tasted of late; and Charmain, Charmain, she will rue the day when she slighted my love !' A moment later he had mounted his fiery steed, and was spurring toward Paris. When he had gone, Charmain sank down upon the floor, and with Claude's precious gift clasped tightly in her hand, bursi; into tears. At last she sobbed her self to sleep, and in troubled dream saw again the encampment of the Grand Army where Ibraham had died, the pageant at the French capital, when she became the adopted child of the Emperor and the Old Guard, and the scenes of her subsequent life at the Tuilleries, Versailles, and St. Cloud. Once more Claude's parting words rang in her ear, once more his fare well kiss thrilled every nerve, once more the Manieluke musician's visit tortured her, and when the day broke bright, balmy, beautiful, she awoke pale and unrefreshed. CHAPTER 111 Perhaps the world never saw a grander army than that in which young Claude de Montveau sat out for Russia. Napoleon, the Conqueror, had not only triumphed over the surrounding sovereigns so long banded against him, but compelled them to assist him in the accomplishment of his great plans ; and Italy, Austria, Russia, Bavaria, Poland, Holland and Sweden now sent up his war-cry. From the Baltic to the Culubrian Mountains, and from the Atlantierto the Vistula, the nations obeyed one imperious will, and thronged at his command to one banner. Thousands of the wealthy and noble eagerly enlisted, that they might partake of the glory that awaited it. And amid the mighty host, numbering half a million souls that poured northward with their prancing steeds, their booming cannon, their chariots and artil lery wagons, Napoleon I. moved a master spirit. Foremost in this warlike multitude was the Old Guard, often called the 'Col umn of Granite '—an appellation well suited to them, both on account of their martial prowess and the high character they sustained as men. When they ad vanced to join in the conflict, all knew it was to perform no light task, but to decide the fate of the battle. But on the march to Moscow, the Emperor did not summon his Guard to action, though the army had many a fierce encounter, even at Borodino, when strongly urged to lend its aid, he withheld it, and only a meagre victory Was gained. He then supposed that the decisive battle would not be fought till they should arrive at Moscow, and for this he wished to reserve the strength of his grand Old Guard. The Russian capital was at length reached, and in the magnificent Kremlin Napoleon and his Guard made their quarters. The burning of Moscow is an event familiar to every reader of history, and there, while the lurid flames spread from spire to spire, from street to street, parching everything with their fiery breath, while clouds of smoke hung dense over the fated city, ' and the crash of the falling timbers, and the roar of billows of fire, and the explo sions of powder trains, made the scene appalling beyond description, the Old Guard showed their indomitable courage, their granite strengih. It was those gal lant soldiers who then moved as steadily as if on a field of battle, and after their beloved Emperor had been induced by their persuasions to leave the Kremlin, followed him through the terrible scenes of the conflagration calm and fearless.— And where, during these troublous times, was Claude de Montveau ? He had been incorporated into the Young Guard, and wherever the fight raged thickest he might be seen, but it was while Moscow was all a flame his bravery attracted the special attention of the Emperor. When the army reached a place of comparative safety, Napoleon came riding along the ranks, in which De Montveau held a prominent command. Claude de Montvean; he cried, in a deep, clear tone, advance.' - As he spoke, the young man moved for ward, and nobody, who could have seen him then, would have recognized him as the elegant courtier whom Charmain had met at the Imperial fete. His face was blackened, his hair singed, his bear-skin cap burned to a crisp, but the falcon eye of the hero flashed beneath, and the proud lip wore an expression which told of a dauntless heart. Young man,' said the Emperor, on the march to oscow and in the recent conflagration you have earned the eagles for your regiment, the Cross of the Legion of Honer for yourself,' and while.the drums beat and the bugles rang, and shout upon shout rose from the troops, the Emperor proceeded to bestow the banner and the cross, and then added-- g Rise, Colonel de Montveau—you are a veteran in heart if not in years—you are worthy a place in the Old Guard. From this hour you belong to it—brave soldiers, receive another comrade !' • Quick as thought they pressed toward De Montveau, with cries of— ' Vive l'Empereur ! Vive Colonel de Montveau! A thousand welcomes to the Imperial Guard !' That night the young count sat in the Kremlin which a battalion had saved from ruin, and where Napoleon and his Guard were now quartered. As the moonbeams flashed across his breast, they lighted up the Cross of the Legion of Honor, and the soldier smiled as he murmured— Ah, Charmain—'tis for your sake more than my own that I valtie this ! God speed the day when I can fold you to my heart and tell yon so.' He broke off suddenly, for he heard the clatter of horses' feet in the court below, and sprang to the window just in time to see a cloaked figure fling himself from a foaming steed. Who is it he asked of a sentinel pacing to and fro on the battlements. A courier from Paris—the Emperor has been expecting him for a week past !' De Montveau turned away, and was ab sorbed in dreams of Charmain, when a door unclosed and Napoleon appeared with a letter in his hand. His brow was knit, his lip compressed, and even before he spoke the young count felt sure that he had something unpleasant to communicate. Colonel de Montveau,' he began, the messenger who arrived a few moments ago brings dismal tidings.' The count's cheek blanched, the blood chilled in his veins ; one wild query rose to his lips, but etiquette forced him to ask first for the royal family. I hope,' he faltered, I hope that nothing has happened to the Empress, or your infant child, the King of Rome.' No, nothing, Sir Count. Would to God I could say the same of her who was solemnly—' 'What,' interposed De Montveau, spring ing to his feet and grasping the Emperor's arm, ~ what has befallen Charmain ?' Calm yourself, young man—you will have need of all the fortitude of which you are master, to bear the blight which has settled on your prospects Mademoi selle Charmain has proved false to her plighted faith—she has eloped, leaving this note in her boudoir. Read it.' And he thrust a paper in the young count's hand. With every nerve in a wild tremor, he read as follows : I am about to fly from my palace-home with him whose bride I beoame last night, by secret marriage. He is poor and of humble birth—by no means a husband whom the Emperor would approve, but I love him with all the depth and fervor of my tropic nature, and could follow him to the world's end. Claude de Montveau never loved, but he was rich and noble, and therefore I accepted him. Tell him this, and—and beg him not to curse me for my perfidy. Farewell, my Emperor, farewell Marie Louise, farewell baby-King of the Romans, farewell soldiers of the Old Guard, a long farewell!' As Claude de Montveau perused the above, his tall form shook from head to foot, his features worked, great drops of sweat gathered on his gloomy brow. Oh ! my Emperor,' he cried, your Majesty knows that at the cannon's mouth, or the bayonet's point, or amid the devour ing flame, my courage has never faltered, but now I am weak as a child,' and with a bitter moan he sank into his seat. c My brave boy,' replied Napoleon, cit is hard! God help you to forget one so unworthy to be your bride, and the ward of your Emperor and his noble Old Guard !' and wringing his hand s he left the chamber. Time passed on, and Bonaparte's retreat from Moscow began. Back, back, back over dismal wastes of snow, and through ambuscades of the enemy—amid the storms of a Northern winter, moved the army which had swept proudly towards its destination months before. No martial music enlivened the toilsome journey, no cheery words and laughter gushed forth, but like a funeral procession the doomed host' marched on. What they suffered I have no power to describe, fierce battles exhausted their strength ; their clothes hung in shreds about them ; their limbs froze, and the sharp tooth of hunger gnawed at their vitals. At the Beresinia Napoleon ordered a bonfire to be made of the eagles which had cheered his men on many a memorable field, and gave all the horses to the Artillery of the Guard.— Then plunged onward through the forest and across the fatal river, and bivouacked hard by the ruins of Brelowa, but, perish ing as they were, the Old Guard never murmured. When they reached Wilna, only a few remained to tell the story of their wants and woe. Of these De Mont veau was one ; but colder than Russian snows, keener than the pangs of hunger, was the tfiought that Charmain was false. As he sat by the camp-fire the night of their arrival at W ilna, a traveller came staggering into their midst. Much as the soldiers had suffered, this intruder looked far more like a skeleton than they, and his voice was hollow and unearthly, as he begged leave to warm himself. 4 Claude de Montveau,' he .cried, at length, starting wildly up, 4 I must speak to you or go mad! I have been journey ing week after week to meet the retreating army, that I might confess. None of you recognize me in my disguise, but I once belonged to the Mameluke squadron of the Imperial Guard: I deserted to carry out a fiendish revenge. Both the Count de Montveau and I fell desperately in love with Mademoiselle Charmain ; she gave the preference to him, and from that time I devoted my life to vengeance. After the Grand Army departed for Moscow, I tried to alienate her heart from her lover, by stories of his fickleness, but she would not believe them, and in my desperation I abducted her from the Tuileries, and left in her boudoir a note I had forged for the purpose. I have kept her in close custody ever since, but no threats nor persuasions could induce her to be mine—she has pined, all her form is wasted to a shadow, and might have laid down in her grave broken hearted, had not a fearful disease seized upon me, and an awakened con science driven me hither. On this card I have written out a few particulars with regard to her place of concealment—go to her, fly, or you may be too late 1' As he ceased speaking, he fell back dead, and an hour aftexward, Claude de Montveau was spurring over hill and val ley at his utmost speed. Charmain was lying on a low couch, in her cell-like room, when a step startled her, and, looking round, she saw a worn azawasted soldier; clad in tattered and dusty garmente,'and yet wearing on his breast the Cross. of the Legion of. Honor. Claude !'.she murmured, inquiringly. Oh ! Charmain Charmain, Charmain !' cried the count, clasping her to his heart in a convulsive embrace. The scene which followed we will not attempt to describe, but if we had the pencil of Titian, or a Correggio, we would paint for our readers a tableau in which their wedding at Notre Dame should be be portrayed—a wedding graced by the elite of the empire, and where Napoleon, in his own name and that of the remnant of the Old Guard who had come back from Moscow, gave the bride away. Bat, as 6 no painter's art is mine,' I must leave the reader to imagine how gorgeous the Cathe dral was with nodding plumes and flashing jewels, and all the splendor of court dress, how fair and pure Charmain seemed in her lace robes and misty veil, and how proud and happy was the young count when he led her down the broad aisle his wife, the Emperor and the Imperial Guard following. As for Napoleon 1., the Russian cam paign was the beginning of sorrows;' the victory of the allied powers, the abdication of the French' throne, the farewell to the Imperial Guard, their last charge at Waterloo, the banishment to St. Helena, came in rapid and dismal succession, and then he who, like Alexander, had aspired to conquer a world, filled a lone grave on a desolate ocean isle. Count de Montveau and his bride, with many others who had fought under his leadership, sought a refuge in a pleasant place in our land, called Champs d'Asile, and to this day their descendants love to rehearse the bravo deeds of the Old Guard. CARDS. ANDREW J. STEINRA.N, ATTOR.Iy:BY AT LAW. Office formerly oceppied by the late Col. Raab Frazer, opposite Cooper's Hefei, West King street. apr 17 EDWARD 111 , GOVERN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, No. 3 South Queen street, in Reed, McOrann, Kelly k Co.'s Banking Building, Lancaster, Pa, apr 6 DO.. JOHN PVC ALL A, DENTIST.”Oftioe No. 4 East King street. Residence Walnut street, second door West of Duke; Lancaster, Pa. [apr 18 tf 18 REMOVAL. --WILLIAM B. FQRDNE Y, Attorney at Law, has removed his office from North Queen street to the building in the sonth-eara, corner of Centre Square, formerly known as Hubley's Hotel. Lancaster, april 10 THEO. W. HERR, SURVEYOR, CON.. VEYANCER AND SCRIVENER. • Osrlos—No. 22 North Duke etreot, opposite the Court House, Lancaster, Pa. EIBOVAL.--H. B. SWARR, Attorney P at Law, has removed hie office to No. 13 North Duke street, nearly opposite his former location, and a tow doors north of tho Court house. apr 6 3m 12 T. MaPHAIL, ATTORNEY AT LAW, No.ll N. DOA E SE., LANCASTER, PA. mnr 311 y 11 VILBERFORCE . IV Ia ViN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Office No. 21 North Queen street, nearly opposite Michael's Hotel, Lancaster, ra. [Oct 2b ly 41 SANDEL H. REYNOLDS, Attorney at Law. Office, No. 14 North Duke street, opposite the Court !louse. may 6 tflB WASHINGTON W. HOPKINS, ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office with N. Lightner k J. K. Alexander, Fags., Duke St., nearly opposite Court louse. [feb 7 Curs 4 A LDUS J. NEFF, Attorney at Law.—.. Office with B. A. Stouffer, Esq., south-west corner of Centre Square, Lancaater. my 15, '66 ly 1T ABRAM. SHANK, ATTORNEY AT LAW, OFFICE WITH D. O. ESHLEMAN, ESQ., No. 36 NORTH Dux ST., LANCASTER, PA. TEWTON LIGHTNER, ATTORNE Y 11 AT LAW, has hie Office is North Duke street, nearly opposite the Court house. Lancaster, apr 1 REMOVAL.--SIPION P. EBY, Attorney at Law, has removed his Office from North Duke street to No. 3, In Widmyer'e Row, South Duke street, Lancaster, Pa. [mar 13 tf 9 FREDERICK S. PYFER, ATTORNEY AT LAW. OFFICE—No. 11 NOICTEL DUES BTRZET, (WZIOT SIDE,) Los aLSTER, Pa. apr 20 tf 14 RE 111 0 V A.1..--WILLIADI S. AMWEO, Attorney at Law, has removed—hie Cad] from his former place into South Duke street, noarly opposite the Trinity Lutheran Church. apr 8 tf 12 THALL FOREMAN, . ATTORNEY AT LAW.. OFFICE WITII T. E. FRANKLIN, ESQ., No. 28 KART KING ST., LANCASTER, PA. nov 1.5 ly 44 JESSE LANDIS, Attorney at Law...4W.. flee one door east of Lechler's Hotel, East King street, Lancaster, Pa. All kinds of Scrivening—such as writing Wills, Deeds, Mortgages Accounts, Ac., will Niattended to with correctness and despatch. may 15, '65 tf-17 JAMES BLACK, Attorney at La w .--01 tee in East King street, two - doors east of Lechler'! Hotel, Lancaster, Pa. AVir All business connected with his profession, and all kinds of writing, such as preparing Deeds, Mortgages, Wills, Stating Accounts, &c., promptly attended to. in 15. tf-17 JAMES H. BARNES, FANCY AND WINDSOR CHAIR MAKER; No. 5O East King street, Lancaster, Takes pleasure in Inviting the public to call at hie Ware rooms, and examine his BEAUTIFUL ASSORTMENT OP CHAIRS OF VARIOUS PATTERNS. lie_ ORDIi it B received and promptly attended to at the shortest notice. None but the best workmenare employed In this establishment, consequently Chairs purchased at this house are fully equal to any article sold in the Seaters Cities. Call and examine for yourselves. [aug 16 ly 31 TOBN F. BRINTON, JOHN ATTORNEY AT LAW, PHILADELHIA, PA., Has removed hie office to his residence, No. 249 South 6th Street, above Spruce. Refers by permission to Hon. H. G. TeONO, "d. L. HMS " NUMB.' BaNRON, " THU/DINS STAVIN& nov 24 ly. 45 R 0 VAL .- -DR . J. T. BAKER, Hon- CEPATHIC PHYSICIAN, has removed his office. to No. 69 East King street, next door above King's Grocery. Reference—Professor W. A. Gardner, Philadelphia. Calls hem the country will be promptly attended to. apr 6 tfl.2 ATATIONA.I. POLICE GAZETTE...This Great Journal of Crime and Criminals Is In its Thir teenth year, and is widely circulated throughout the coun try. It is the first paper of the kind published in the United States, and is distinctive in its character. It has lately passed into the hands of Geo. W. Metall k Co., by whom It will hereafter be conducted. if,. Matzen wu formerly Chief of Police of New York City, and he will no doubt render it one of the moat interesting papers baths country. Its editorials are forcibly written ' and of a char acter that should command for the paper universal kip port. 433- Subscriptions, $2 per annum ; for Six Months, to be remitted by Subscribers, (who'sbould write their names and the town, county and state where they reside plainly,) to CEO. W. MATSELL & CO., Editors and Proprietors of the National Police Gazette, New York City. 13E1M1 BOOT AND SHOEMAKERS, TARE NOTICE. J . F. COOM.II fi CURRIER AND LEATHER DEALER, 1130 Market Sired, Mow /?al, Philadel phia. _ has the most extensive assortment of SOLE AND UPPER' LEATHER, of all descriptions: Red and Oak Sole Skirting,- Slaughter, French and City Calf Skins, Ripe, Wax Upper, Morocco, Linings, Lacings, . Leather Apron 'Skins, Shoe Tools, Lasts, Findings, he., and every article requisite for Boot and Shoemaking, Wholeaale and . Retail, at the lowed price , to which he Invites the attea , on of the trade. [deo '43 8m 48 I[_)U IL DING SLATE.-The subscriber I) has just received a large lot of PEACH BOTTOM and YORK COUNTY BUILDING SLATE, which Ito will put on by the square or sell by the ton, on the mosktesisonible terms. He has also constantly on hand an extralight Peach Bottom Building Slate, intended forslating on to of shingles. Please call and examine my PEACH BOTTOM SLATE, which are the best in the market, an/L.:annals' had at any other yard, as I have made arrangements witlik . . R. P. Jonos for the Lancaster Market. GEORGE D. SPRBOIIIOI, North Queen Bt., Lancaster, Penn s. sap- The above elate can also had at P. O. BIATMS Lumber Yard, Columbia.' This is to certify that we do not sell our beet quality Peach Bottom (}Waged Elate to any othit Perl eon in Lancaster city than the above named. . B. B. GONE% • Manufacturers of Peach Bottom Bi*diwg Mat oct . rk L Oil, Sweet 011, Oft of SPIKE, STONE, SENEKA, SASS Sus.. r 7 fe _ For sale at THOMAS • Thug a . alligskanietoei 'Mist REIS - r loivi NO. 17. IMRE
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers