itt - ganiitotti Int gtiletr PITRLISITED EVERY THERSDAY BY COOPER, SANDERSO3T & CO., H. G SnErrxr, AAKos:Dox, ALDEsz SANDsomon. kII7UI I =,CittM=Slik ' • 9n2111M, 'OPFICE—e.or romatrt OF. C .V.MtE SCIVAELE: la ........- ilial" All letters n business should be address- to Coorze, s yorrsorr & Co. GENTRY AND HOME. LOVE OF BY 7 • • • ' There is a land, ~ f every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night;— There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside His sword and scepter, pageantry and pride. While in his softened looks benignly blend The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend; " Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?" Art thou a man ?—a patriot 9—look around! o,lhou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home ! On Greenlands's rocks, o'er rude Kamsehatka's • plains, In pale Siberia's desolate domains; Where the wild hunter takes his lonely way, Tracks through tempestuous snows his savage prey Or wrestling with the might of raging s'aas, Where round the Pole eternal billows freeze, Plucks from their Jaws the stricken whale, in vain Plunging down headlong through the whirling main, His wastes of snow are lovelier in his eye Than all the flowery vales beneath the by And dearer far thantetesar's palace dome, His cavern shelter, and his cottage holm. O'er China's garden-fields and peopled floods, In California's pathless world of wools; Round Andes' heights, i.vhere Winter, from his throne, Looks down in scorn upon his Summer zone; By the gay borders of Bermuda's isles, Where Spring with everlasting verdure smiles On pure Maileira's vine-robed hills of nealth: In Java's swamps of pestilence and wealth ; Where Babel stood, where wulves and jack: lls drink 'Midst weeping billiows on Euphrates brink; On C4tmel's crest ; by Jordan's reverend stream, Where Can.tn's glories vanished like a dream; Whore Greece, a spectre, llamas her herocs• graves, And Rome's vast ruins darken 'f'iber's waves.; Where broken-hearted Switzerland bi•wails Her subject mountains and dishonored vales ; Where .lbion's rocks , gull amidst the sea, Around the beauteous isle of Lilieriy , Man, titrougn all ages of revolving time, Unchanging man, in every varying (dime, Deems ius ...wn land, of every 1.1.1 the pride, Beloved by Heaven, o'er all the w.,r1.1 hosizh His hume the spot of earth supreniel bh•st, A clearer, sweeter spot than all 11 e • nest' A LOST AND WoN It was a clear, frosty day in January, and two girls were walking together in a country lane, near the market town of A . The leafless hedges were white with . hoarfrost, the ground was covered with the sparkling rime—the great trees 'Tread" their lank, bare branches to the sky, which looked down on the earth with wdull leaden aspeet. Everything appeared as if dead in tile iron _ra-p of winter. Everything. save the two girls. They were all life amid the stillness— all gladness, youth! It was joyous spring with them. They were very nearly of a lit•ight, and apparently of entail nee. t [lie, a trifle the taller, was graeeful, well formed girl, with a slender hrt tat , which looked, from the contra-I of the dark . fur she Wore, doubly white and delicate. She hial languishing when -In• it:is silent, lint directly she spoke, they but. ii•il op and sparkled. and dm like Ilse int le ripples on n lab, tclien I li• This girl had other anties it n•-idc her eyes. She hail dark, shining . hair, banded titer rorelliThi, and blooming •-•11 • Mal pouting. miint It, and in dimpled chin might he dcteeted a eon- siderallie propoill, .11 r,f 111 I it•l. The other girl WaS pale, drooping, al ntost delicate looking. Even the keen wintry air had fail(A to call _low to her white cheeks. Thar, hril liant beauty here to charni I lie beholder. Only there was a depth of feeling in soft eyes; a tremutou, jVcnoss nut the whole lace, that, though it would never command admiration, might well win love. As she walked beside her brilliant and blomnina com panion, few W . ; 01.11 d have turned from the sparkling, animated beauty of the one to admire the quiet sweetness of tile other. And when they spoke there was the same characteristic dissimi fitri ty in their voices. That of the one was clear, distinct, musical, as the ehime of a sil yei.bell; the other's was soft, low an., murmuring, with a shade of melanchol:‘ in its tone, like the music of an _Eolian harp. " You are silent, Flora," said the pale girl; looking up into her friend's face, "it is a rare thing for you to he silent for so long together "About five minutes," returned the other, raising her head with a grace;ltl, buoyant gesture which was peeuliar to her, while a bright smih• roused the slumbering dimples in her cheek, an, the face, half-pensive in its expressed, a moment before, became again juy.ti and animated. "Only live minutes, am certain, dear; hilt, to he sure, I sel dom give my little tongue lung lwl iday." " And you seldom look so grave. al most sad, as you lo,,ked jue! 110 W ?" 1•,,n -tinued her companion; '• nothing is the matter, is the re Flora, laughed merrily. - Silly little friend," cried she, stopping. to hei 'affectionately. " Know that there are very few mischances which could lielat, me, which would have the effect of mak ing me look grave. Besides, in case anything did vex me, I should tell you directly, that you miaht be sorrowful for me. It would he ahnosi worth while having a grief, to have your sympathy, Evelyn." Evelyn looked up in tier face grate fully. "One of the penalties we lively peo ple have to pay," resulinal Flora, "is that, if by any cloture we are serious or thoughtful, or, in short, behave like ra tional ',wings for a while, we are in stantly observed; our pnusual bearing commented On, and wt , nrc. ,upposeti to be suffering under some deep grief. Ali, fortunate Evelyn! no one think!: it strange when you look thoughtful, sen sible or —" "Sad?" said the other, smiling faint as Flora ceased speak ina, ain I lin used, half-embarrassed. '"That is what you mean, and you are right: it is not a strange thin, for toe to look either thoughtful or sad. My nature ferenl from yours. hut tell Me. - she added, as if glad to speak ui nt her t h ings, "tell me what you were thinking at just now?" "I was thinking of my long promised visit to London." "Ah, and of some one you will ~we there!" said Evelyn, While - tills faintest possible flush rose. to Inn* el k. " Nonsense,"- returned Flora, turning away, though not without ure ; "one thought is enough at a time, for my poor little brains at least.” "Yes, but when we love," said Zve lyn gently, "our thoughts, like iiik2 swans on sweet St. Mary's lake, 'float double;' whatever idea occurs to us, the one all-pervading one is blent with it.' - "You talk as if you had been in love a dozen tunes at least," cried Flora 'I laughing, "but I suppose you, being a. a sensitive and poetic temperament, I know intuitively what people feel under ! every circumstance. 'ni sure you know more about it than I do." • There was a pause. Had Flora been an acute observer, which she was not, there was too much thoughtless selfish ness and egotism in her character for her to be so,) she would have perceived the strange look that, for a moment, overspread Evelyn's face. But it came and passed unnoticed. "It will be very delightful to go to o ?vemned Flora; "and my aunt J. X COOPER, VOLUME 65. is very gay, and I shall have parties and balls to my heart's content. Yes, it will be very pleasant; I shall enjoy all those sorts of things very much." "Is there nothing else, no other pleas 7 ure, you look forward to in this visit?" asked Evelyn, with a look of grave re proach in her eyes. "Well, if you must know everything —and it's no use attempting to hide any thing from you, for I really believe you know what I feel, or ought to feel, bet ter than I do myself—if you must know, I do feel pleased to think I shall, in all probability, see Eustaee Fane during my stay in town." "You will both be happy," mur mured Evelyn, "and you deserve to he so. You love him very dearly, Flora?" she said suddenly, and she turned with an eager, anxious look to her friend.— : " Very dearly. and only him—you are sure?" "You are a searching catechist," an, swered Flora, blushing and half-con fused; "and you ask more than I ought to tell. No words of acknowledged love ever passed between us. .I have no right, have I, to believe that he loves I Ile till tie asks for my hand, and till then it would not he maidenly to say— ven to you—how much—l—how very mud' I love him r She concluded rapidly, while a glow of outhu,ia=m lighted her face, making it doubly beautiful. But after she had spoken. ;hi• drooped her head bashfully, as it• half-ashained of the burst of im pulsive tenderness to whieh she had yielded, "It is all nonsensta," she said, tryintr to laugh carelessly; "and I don't k TIOW my own mind as vet. Don't look re pro:wilfully at me, Evelyn, with those earnest eyes of yours. you know I can not, T ought not speak about this, even to my own heart, till I know. Had you not been a tiresome, teasing, wheed ling little friend, as you are, no one would ever have guessed anything." " f must have been very blind," said "110 t to know that you loved each other., 'chore is ofttin more elo quence in a face than ever fell from hu man lips, and The sweetest eloquence of all was written in his eves when he looked at volt." You think so—you are sure—and you are never deceived," cried Flora, eagerly clasping her friend's hand, and peering into her eye , . Then, rpmem hering liers'elf, she vahned, erected her head, and quietly :aided, "Very well, it nia•; \Vith.nt notieing her la , t words and hand e 4 I in:inner, Evelyn \Vent on speak nig. earnestly and anxiously. "I)eat, dear Florn!” she ,aid, while an WI Won eil rrint.nn.Shot:nv.e(Meaeh intie ch,t•!:, and trendded, "retoend..r T hat II II 4.1 y, S011.11)11 it i- for - you to have the happinos of one so great and good :IS Eustaeu nine in your keeping. Strive that you may become worthy of him. Pray to (foul to give you strength and fitness to he leis yile,'lti, companion, comforter, ad viser iind friend. Do not dare to toy With a heart like his; it would he his , lespiiir and our undoing. Great souls like his must be dealt with in a kindred spirit of nobility. Be yourself with him, Flora—be true and faithful to your ,clf in i.eing so to him. Gott guard you and In:11:e you Loth happy!" She faltered', and her voice died away to a whisper, ere she ceased speak ing.— Flora, affected by her deep earnestness, remained silent, and neither uttered a word durin ,, the remainder 01 the walk. But when they arrived at Evelyn's Abode, they suipped and bade each other with more than usual atl'eet ion ate impressiveness_, "I visit I were like you, dear Evelyn, whispered Flora, while a sweet serious ness shadowed her liter; "you :tru su (turf, stt true! Anti I will hued what you say, anti try! But I shall never be worthy of him as . you are.,, Evelyn turned a-ide quickly, and -hiveFcti as i:he trod the path whichLs,id io the Li,or of her lathor'6 AI the t hrt-A ,he met her in6Lher. , iuter, F a ir W0111:111. with a t-erette face, winch truly looked 1/, though the spirit teht e i, ,hone through it had been purl :lett - with nitwit her itrio.eitrt---ingly round her yOU112: Wlll4` untrinuretl .pine maternal tear , aliout the chill ere- A Inn-[ of lattahlt , r froni an adjoining . llr.lll II( ally th , WllOl 11,r word,. I . ‘ll " th,re any one with my father'."' -Ile asked. lint he!ore her mother could WS Wel', 1110 (1001' 011 the right hand of the eorriaor wa, , , opened., tind a lady ,alue forth, followed by Evelyn's rather. my young friend, how are you?" -aid the brisk. pretty little Mrs. Bere-- ,ord, stretching out her neatly gloved hand to Evelyn. "I came to tell you all news which I am sure you will he pleastid at. Flora was walking with you, I think? Well, directly after she tt (lit out, the post came in. AVcarec ui! hi l,ondou on Mond a y nest'" "indeed! So soon!" to ly sister particularly WiSheS LIS to conic to hgt. at "nee. Pleasant, sn't it Y It won't he very long„ though. I should he s"rry to think of leaving the CU-ar place and all our kind friends a very long time. But it will lie de lightful f,u- Flurtr-, in fact, that recon ciles ate for going- ;It all. Mt own in clinations, duce the deinke of nth' dear husband, have ever leaned toward: , com plete retirement.'. And the lady's voice grew plaintive, :Aoki she half drew out n delicate vane hric leunikerchief ffolll her reticule as .-he spoke: hut then ehnnging her mth,,t, ,he eAtly at Evelyn's mother what cannot wc mothers socrMcc for mu. chi4lrch's welfare, denr Indy addrei=sed howed her head meekly, a nd looked at her daughter v,ith unutterahle tenderne,. And now . Mr. Lester ehnnell "It will he very pleas:ant for iny young friend Flora, indeed," said he.- - I ,11.1111/0. , r Ell-tare Fa Ile, the young literary gentleman who turned all our heads last summer when he was staying here, will be much with you, of course." ' . l imagine so," said Mrs. Beresford, with a ColllplaCullt simper; in fart, I 1111.1 Y `ay I 1:1111 certain of it. Poor young man! h e is desperately in love with my girl; of her feelings for him I am not so sure. He is well-known to my sister; visits at her house. We shall see a great - deal of him. Do you know, my dear Mrs. Lester, that the new book which has created such a sensation in London was written by him?" Mrs. Lester answered quickly, though her eyes had been fixed on the half averted face of Evelyn, who leaned against the wall, and was fitfully tying and untying the strings of her bonnet. In a few minutes more the lively and talkative Mrs. Beresford bade them all good-by and gayly fluttered away. - "Evelyn," Said Mr. Lester, "come and read the paper, it has arrived, and therd is great news, come along." "I will come," said the mother quickly. "Let Evelyn rest now—she has been walking and is tired. I will read to you." The husband and wife passed into the parlor; as they did so, Mrs. Lester turn ed her head for an instant, and looked with a look of anguish on the drooping figure of her child, as she slowly mounted the stairs which led to her When she had gained the refuge of the pleasant little chamber, she closed the door and sank wearily on a chair by the window. She looked listlessly out on the desolate prospect, white with' frost; the bare trees, with their fantas tic branches, thrown in strong relief against the gray sky. It was dreary; and alas! there was no sunshine in her own spirit to invest the wintry scene with its own summer radiance. As she gazed, large tears fell down her cheeks, and at length she hid her face in her clasped hands and wept unrestrainedly. "It is so sad—so very sad!" she mur mured to herself. "I am young, yet life seems very hopeless and dreary. 0 God, is it wrong to wish to die?" She turned her wishful eyes to heav en, and she saw a little star timidly peering forth in twilight. She sank on her knees almost involuntarily and prayed. And when she arose, there was a holy calm about her face, as if an angel had. bestowed on her a kiss of peace. "I thank Thee," she said softly, "that I can endure!" And she went down stairs and per formed all her habitual domestic llVOCa lions with her usual serenity. She sang her father's favorite songs, read to hint, and talked with him about his garden And his farm. All the while her moth er's eyes were fixed on her with a look of half-wondering tenderness. Three hours afterwards the house was silent, and the bright moonlight shone in at the corridor window, and IV its I rightness half-started Mrs. Lester as she stole forth from her chamber with thnid, hushed footsteps. Cautiously she unclosed the door of her daughter's sleeping-room, and went in. Evelyn slept peacefully, but the ray of moon light that emit in from the half-opened door, fell on her face, and made the mother shudder, it looked so much' like death. the touched the fair hand that lay on the coverlit, with her lips, as if to prove to herself how full of warm, breathing life the still form was. And then she knelt by the bedside and pray ed silently. "My child, my only one!" she murmured, as she rose from her knees, and casting one more fond look On the slumbering Evelyn, turned to leave ibe room; bid Lilian! thee! I Months passed on, and still Mrs. -Be reslord and Flora were located in Lon donn. Evelyn heard from her friend or,- etisionally, but as time of their sepa ration lengthened, Flora's letters came les:: frequently. And when they did collie, they contained nothing hut ac counts of her "gayeties, - and these were hut little interesting to Evelyn. No word of Eustace Rote ljad been men tioned since the first tiro or three epis tles, in which lie hail been casually ad verted to, as a visitor at her aunt's. Evelyn sat in her father's study one May morning, musing On the contents of Flora's last letter, which lay before her.. She heard voices in the hall, aim started from lier seat, and gathered her papers together, but she was pre vented leaving the room 1,3- the entrance of he; father and a gentleman. "Here is an old acquaintance of 0ur, , ," said Mr. Lester, gaily. " Mr. Eustace Rote has come to stay a week or two at A— , as he did last summer." Eustriee took Evelyn's cold hand, without noticing anything strange in her look. How should he? He hai, not learned to watch her looks with jealous care. lint when he turned awv she samm a chair helplessly, her sight darkened, and the sound of the tw, voices fell on her ear in a drowsy, indis tinct murmur fill• a win le. And then she moved slowly across the• room, lei, it. and tied up stairs. Poor child she was eery Young, and trouhle was nem to her. Thy little chamber witnessed anothe. struggle of the poor, NS l'ak, tremblim_ heart, and another victory. After that day - Evelyn learned to bear hispresenc calmly, even to talk r. ith hint coin posedly and without embarrassment. s.o.inetintes when together with lie. mother, they walked in the green lanes and Eustace gave utterance to smile (; the poetry with which his nature Wit( overflowing ; it was a strange pleasurt for Ithn to read in the eyes ttf the quiet girl beside him how well he was undei stood. They seldom spoke of Flora.— Once her name was mentioned by Mr. Lester, who happened to , ay about the hteresfortis, and he askew Evelyn if .lie had heard from Flora She averted her head from Eustace before He• answered in the neentive. She was a rait Ito see how he looked on hearing her name. TM next moment she was surprised by his speaking on the subject 1(1 Flora. " yiu then correspond with Miss BerestOrd t"' he teiltittl. Ir. Lester was just leaving the room but lie turned heel; to :answer with a growl—" a eorrespondenee Which, like the - Irishman's reeimoeity, is all on one side. How longr is it, Evey, since you heard from your friend.,,, I`velyn, pained and embarrassed, (lid not speak. -lie thought s:lie detected some bitterness in the tone with whioli \lr. Fain( next sail: " Miss lieresford is too deeply im mersed in gayety and dissipation to have much time for letter-writing." " I am certain," replied Evelyn earn estly, "that in London gayeties, how ever brilliant and fascinating they nun‘ I , e, will never cause Flora to forget thin she loves." `rl'o forget ?—perhaps not," and Ens tace smiled on the sweet face, with its pleading eyes and calm, clear brow, " but neglect is the stepping-stone to absolute forgetfulness. And some na tures cease to love those whom they find they tan do NV ithollt." " Perhaps so. But that does not apply to Flora,'' said Evelyn, unsuspicious of his full meaning, but apprehending that there existed the shadow of some petty misunderstanding between the two lovers. " She is so generous in het affection, so frank-hearted, so candid, so impulsive, and yet so just. She might he wrong unknowingly, for a time, hut her true heart would find the right at last, and once convinced, would persevere in it." Evelyn was unconscious of the look that Eustace mat upon her, as she thus spoke ; a look of that reverent admira tion that a noble-minded man always feels when a spark shines out of that LAN - CASTER, PA., THURSDAY : MORNING, ,iirLY 7, .1.864. diVine halo of love which surrounds the nature of a pure-hearted woman. "There are some natures like sun light," said Eustace Fane, slowly, after a pause of some minutes; "they east their own brightness and holiness over all they look on. But it is only a re flected light that makes the dark cloud glow with gold. The gold is the sun beam's, the darkness is its own." Evelyn's heart throbbed with sudden, strange emotion, she could hardly tell why. The next moment she reproached herself, and thought of Flora. " They have quarrelled," thought she ; " how unhappy they must be! Par Flora!" But after that evening the subject was never resumed. Still he came to their house—still he sought all opportunity of seeing Evelyn, of being with her. She herself did not recognize this, her whole mind was too much pre-impressed with the belief in his love for her friend ; and she was very young, and the idea of love to her was as of something eter nal and unalterable, that once having been, could never cease to be. She knew that Eustace Faue loved Flora Beres ford, because she knew that he loved her months ago. So ran her simple logic. Thus was she blinded. She thought she understood it all, when one morning Eustace called at their house, suddenly, to take leave. He had re ceived a letter that morning, he said, and he must go to town instantly. His race was radiant, and his voice was soft ened almost to tenderness, as he whis pered to Evelyn, " I shall return, I trust —I believe—soon." The let ter was from Flora, Evelyn was sure they were reconciled, that they would return to A , that they might be married in the old church where Flora was christened. And as she thought thus, Evelyn tried to smile, and believe what she said to herself, " They will be happy—and I—l am content-1 am quite content.''' Flora and her mother sat in a splen didly furnished apartment in one of the most fashionable of London houses. Phe young girl lulled on a sofa, and neg ligently turned over the pages of a novel she held in her hand, but scarcely ap peared to be reading. At length she tossed it on the table, and said, yawning as she spoke : " Stupid—stupid—stupid— ! Every thing in the world is stupid, now." " Vott—most of all!" and Mrs. Beres ford raised her lively, still pretty face, from her netting, and dropped the words from her mouth as if they were little pebbles, cold, hard and stony. " No more lectures, mamma, "entreat. I'm harrassed to death as it is; I feel— l•feel—what people mean, I suppose, by blase; every thing seems so uninterest ing; the world looks to melts dull, blank and hazy as :4 thick 1.!.!:." "The fog is in your brain. I knew there was one there," uttered her moth er,. still with the same icy, yet sharp and firm tone of voice that so contrasted. with her look of animated good eumor. "1 cztt imagine people under the in fluence of these kinds of moods, plung ing into rivets, still, calm and deep, that iook like the very visible emboainielit of rest.' "You talk nonsen , e ; f don't under stand you." "'That is not strange," murmured Plora, IVitil Sudden melancholy, and she sighed deeply. Bah !" and Mrs. Berestdra jerked tier needle so violently that the silken inread broke ; " will you listen to reason ,tri' (Mel' 1 will listen to you, mamma," said We girl with a saucy smile. Will you agree to make us both hap py? Will you marry Lord Court nayel"' " I don't love him ; why should I mar ry him It would be wicked to do so, would it not?" •• You will love him in Wm , ; he is handsome, clever, rich; and a hove all, ire es you desperately." " mother, t here is something more yet wanting." sentiment ! you absulutety molish Flora. \V kat can you acquire 010 re in 0 husband" Ile gives you rank, wealth, position, With his own allhet !on, which, as I said before, is considerable. 31 hat more uo you Want Flinn seated herself on a stool at her mother's leet ; sh4tWilleti her arms Ahout her knees, unit looked earnestly .nto her eyes—those eyes that sparkled and glanced, and looked so 'wet! y—at a .dstance. "flouter, (lid you 1.v.• 'Hy Int bur wheal pm married Mrs. tioresford recoiled :is the elem . , .ow tootis fell oil her ear ; momentary paleness flitted liver her face, and she oft her lip as: she put aside her daugh .er's arms, and .Irew her chair somewhat oaek ward. But the emotion was scion over; the culd spark returned to her eyes, and her voice was steady, feeling .ess, unfaltering as ever when she: re :-- • "Yes, I loved him when I married him, and for a week after." .Ind then—" " And then 1 began to see how tran eendehtly foolish I had been to give up the chance of a wealthy establishment .or a petniless soldier, who was now as unin t cresting to me as a last year's new,- paper. Flora looked at her mother's ealm :are With a kind or wandering incredu lity. She put her hands to her temples and mused. "Arc you convinced'!" asked Mrs. Bern-ford ; " cannot you learn wisdom :iron 114 experience'."' I think," said Flora, slowly, with ant raising her head, " I think my love would last longer than a week." " month, perhaps. As you are sen timental, and ctven more foolish than 1 was at your age, say a month ; and after that what remains'."' "'There are simile women whose love has lasted all their lives." " Poor, weak slaves! if indeed there ever were such. But, for my part, I never helieved there were."' "Blind people may doubt the exist ence of light, and we can excuse them," began Flora. " rrn not blind." " Far from ; your eyes are keen, piercing enough,'!' said her daughter, deprecatingly ; " don't let us argue, mamma. I'll attend to what you say ; I'll think about it.'' " If you don't accept Lord Courtnaye this week, we must return to A-----. Your aunt has already dropped broad hints about our lung visit." " Ay, I perceive. Flora Beresford and her mother have outsta id their welcome; but Lady Courtnaye (that is to be) and the peerless mamma will take a new cease of their excellent relative's hospi- " Exactly," said Mrs. I3eresford, glo rying in the sneer which curled her child's rosy lip ; 'Alearn from that, my dear, the value of position, of wealth, of rank. They are good things, are they not? They are worth something, don't you think ? It is worth while giving up one's childish fancies to obtain these things, isn't it ?" " Ay, mother," said the young girl with a low mycking laugh ; " what is love ; what is a heart, even ? I begin to doubt if we have such things. Perhaps it is only childish fancy. We can exist very well without them.'! And that evening saw Flora Beresford betrothed to Lord Courtnaye. A week had elapsed. Flora lounged on the sofa in her usual lazy but grace ful manner, her head resting on an em broidered cushion, her slippered feet tapping the ground. And by he; side sat her lordly lover, engaged in the pleasant task of clasping a bracelet, glit tering with diamonds, on her fair, round arm. He toyed lovingly with the slen der wrist before he finally fixed the or nament, and when at last it was adjusted he kissed the arm and hand before he released it from his hold. Flora sprang back, involtmtarily ; she looked at her wrist as if she would fain have erased from it the unwelcome kiss. But the brilliants sparkled brightly where the unloved lips had been pressed, and the young fiancee smiled complacently as she looked at them. Lord Courtnaye's face brightened as he saw the smile ; his eyes were fixed on her as if they knew no other resting place. He was not remarkable for in tellect or talent, this young noblemen. But he was sincere, manly, honest, and loved her well. She was all the world to him ; upon her he lavished a bound less wealth of love and overwhelming flood of tenderness, all unheeded, un cared for. The incense was thrown on the shrine of a false idol ; it was deaf to his tenderness, blind to his worship.— Alas, that true and earnest love should ever be wasted thus ; even as the sun shines on barren deserts and senseless. rocks, that are unwarmed by its glow, that reflect back not a particle of its brightness. The lover was happy, when he heard the mumured words o. thanks that fell from the lips of his be loved. He took her hand grain, and seemed to find a strange pleasure iii pressing it 'Within both of his, in draw ing the rings from the round white fingers, and trying to place them on his own. What children love makes 01 these strong, stern men ! Less wise, but better; less strong, but purer; less akin to earth, but nearer to heaven; they need not blush to be SO. Are not children the links is ween wen and angols'.' Lord Courtnaye still kept the little hand prisoner, when a servant entered, followed almost immediately hy a young girl, who ran into the room, crying : " Flora are you here?"' • Flora started from the sofa, snan•hinp her hand trout her lover's elasp Is she did so. Then She stood transfixed her face alternately changing from dark nil to the Infer of death. She feared to (qll.- brace Evelyn ; she shuddenal as she looked ;At her. The purity', the guile of the familiar face showed her how !alien, how degraded she hersel. was. Falsehood is shamol when it looks on truth ; guilt shivers when it comes in contact with innocence. There are certain noxious things which dare not look into the Fright face of day. The first impulse of Evelyn was to spring forward to tier friend, but a glance at the other occupant of the room deterred her, and she too stood still any. silent, looking; on the changing. thee 0 Flora. Lord Court nave, with well-bred thoughtfulness, seeing his presence was a restraint. upon t he Iwo girls, whispered a few words to his betrothed, and With a bow to Evelyn, left the room. And then Flora crept forward, shaking oft her emotion by a strong effort, and with an attempt at her olden playfulness, as she embraced the young girl : " I vow I was turned to stone with surprise. I should as Soon have expect ed to sec the ghost of Oliver C'rontwell. or Joan of Arc, or anybody else impos sible and out of the way, as my little fairy Evelyn Lester." Evelyn permitted her caresses, but did not attempt to return them. A cloud overspread her brow ; there was one in her soul. and this was its shadow. "he felt the t 4ense of the ehange steal upon her—that dark ehange which had taken place in a few short months. A horri ble doubt of her friend's truth and faith fulness oppressed her and she sickened at the thought that on that very trust and faithfulness depended the happi ness of Emdttec Vane. She gazed, then. into Flora's titre ; she looked intently into her eyes ; striving to gather there something that should inspire her with 110 W o,llfideliN.. J>ut trite betrothed wa, cowed by that earnest, inquiring gaze : her eyes drooped beneath it ; cheek blanched; all her treetl indilierence and gayety forsook her, anti .lie sank trembling and ,bushel on a chair, with her heart full Of that last, worst pang of all —tlVerW hehning self-contempt. A sigh burst involuntarily from Eve lyn's bosom. It was over her iiwn dis appointed friendship ; the first and last selfish pang that smote her heart that day.. She had come t, see Flora, so trustingly, so joyfully ; she had been looking.forward for. o long to that meet ing ; she anticipated with such girlish delights embracing her friend, clasping her close to her heart, and renewing with her in London the dear old earnest talks. And now, to feel creeping over her the conseiousness that this friend was lost to her—that she could not take her to her heart again—that there was a dark shadow looming between them.— All was changed. 'There stood before her, not the dear, often thought of Flo ra of old times, but an alien, a stranger. one of those fallen angels of cart loiarted woman. Evelyn understood it all, even as she stood silent and motionless, gazing on Flora's Mee. She scarcely needed to ask the question with xvbich she broke the silence— "Who was that gentleman who left the room but now?" "Lord Courtnaye," faltered the be trothed ; "he is—" "I. know. lie is your lover; your ac cepted lover. It is only a favored suitor who would sit by your side clasping your hands as he did, when I entered the room. Flora, 0 Flora! Why has another usurped the place of Eustace nine?" Her voice did not tremble, nor her eyelids droop, as she pronounced the name. Her slight form was unconsci ously erected ; her face, meek, gentle, and loving, as was its usual expression, now looked on the shrinking Flora with something of that loftiness, solemn re proach, and grieved displeasure, that we imagine_shines forth in thd holy face of an avenging angel... "Why has another usurped the place of Euetaee Fane ?" The question made the coward heart , of Flora quiver and shrink within itself. I She strove to answer with some degree of composure. The words "You have no right, Evelyn ;,.you are mistakenr fell from her lips, but her voice died away to a whisper its she ceased. She began to feel now that she had a heart; her better nature awoke within her, she yearned to be what she had once been— Evelyn's cherished friend. Tears swelled in her eyes, and slowly coursed dOwn her che`ei,:s. Evelyn drew 'nearer to her. She seated herself beside.her, and took her hand. "0 Flora!" sik mormnred, "only prove to me that lam 1. - kistaken. lam ready, oh ! so gladly, to tie convinced of my error. Eustace is not tlrgotten !" Flora crept closer to her involuntari ly ; she pressed her hand. Thertwas a struggle yet in her heart between god and evil. Evelyn was reassured, mia she went on. "There has been a cloud of distrust— of discontent—between you—but you will be the first to disperse it; you will go to him and tell him that you are sor ry ; you will ask forgiveness, you will be happy again." "You are still wrong said Flora, with sudden haughtiness ; "I can not do as you say. I would not, if I could. Mr. Eustace Fane is nothing to me." And then she continued, with a successful effort at proud calmness—"l am betroth ed to Lord Courtnaye." The struggle was over ; the last relic of good in the heart was vanquished.— She was now self-possessed in her spuri ous pride. Evelyn rose from beside her. Once more her figure dilated, and her eyes flashed with a grander haughtiness than that of pride, on her erewhile friend.— Her voice lost its tone of mumuring ten derness-; it was clear and resonant when she again spoke. "And you dare to do this ! To bind yourself for life to one man while you]. heart is full of love for another. Fot yoU cannot tell me that you no longer ,eve Eustace Fane. Your eyes have not yet learned to lie. 0 Flora! when we parted, but a little time ago, there was a sweet Winess in your heart, that look ed out in your face. It was your love :or him. You have sullied it; you have tried to crush it, but it lingers there yet. it is the only relic of my lost friend that I recognize. Will you dare to crush it thus '? Will you dare to suffer the brightness of his life, and yours, to pass away by your own will, your own act ?'' Insensibly Evelyn had . glided from stern reproach to entreaty. She was struggling for the happiness of one who was dearer than her own life; she would neglect no means of softening and turn ing Flora's heart. lint Flora's worcls uncl aspect, the next moment, chilled her as if with an , ice-bolt. "Such words at, Iliestt," spiti Ale, in ti Ineastirt.ti tow, "it i , n o t fit that I, the betrothed win , , tt . Lunt Courtnaye, should hear. i nia s t re q u e ,t you, EVE.- iyn, to discourse of ,iinytymp. else." There was 11 Inn_ pause, and than idyl) onceinore looked fixedly ill Flora's face. It was rigid, calm with deternii ni.tion :Hui strength of purpose. But the eyes were not raisied to E‘ielyn's ; they rested on the glittering bracelet which still decked her arm, and with which he NVIIS now toying. "I have finished," said Evelyn, in u. low voice, "and I will leave you now. If wealth and grandeur can console you nr forfeiting your hapPiness, your peace, let it be so. I sec now, you are not worthy of Eustace Earle ; one day you will discover it. Farewell !" Flora did not attempt to detain her, unl Evelyn placed_ her hand on the lour but before she passed forth, she turned to look back on tier who had !nee been her friend. Aml as liar gaze ell on the motionless figure, the young 'are with its youthful expression of icy taitg,litiness, the drooped eyes fixed On :hp sparkling ornament that ehtsped her wrist, and her lingers fitfully clutching it—es EN - Ply!' looked, there 'burst front her full heart the solemn words of ago irrd''tied help you " .111,1 so they parted. It was spring again, and Evelyn Les ter -at beneath the branches, just burst ing into leaf, of a large mulberry tree in her fitt her's garden. A. newspaper had ust fallen from her hand on the grass, ind now she pressed her brow, end caned forward in deep sail thought. She had been reading the ntagnilo- Illellt narrative of Flora's grand wed ling, of the brilliant dresses, the costly iqui tinges, and the devotion of the noble iiridegroom to his beautiful bride. Now die was thinking how lie would hear it. And her thoughts ended with a long sitdi. "Ali ! what a Sall thine. i , //mar,' Let us forgive Evelyn that sigh as she mused thus, awl felt how the love which Flora east away would have made her dreary life blissful. For it was a dreary life to which she now look forward. Life to the young,' want 'll, love, wants everything, and Evelyn had never been blest with the happy dream of being beloved. It was joy enough for her only to love, and even that was torn from her after a brie' space, when she discovered that the mere delight of loving vainly, hopeless ly, as it was, the wrong. Poor Evelyn ! Life had had little brightness for her as vet. "He will perhaps go abroad. He may he absent for years, and shall never see him again. It is better that it should he so. Heaven only grant he may soon find peace and content." Thus Evelyn thought, while tears stole from her eyes unbidden 1)111 un checked. But the rustling of sonic bushes near her caused her to raise her head, from its drooping posture, and she could hardly repress a cry when she be held Eustace Fame approach her. She rose hastily from the low bench on which she had been sitting, but her feet staggered under her, and Eustace sprang forward, and interpused his arm to save her from falling. "You are not well, I fear," said he, while Evelyn trembled even more, on hearing the tones of his voice, than she had clone on seeing him so unexpectedly. Evelyn faltered something, she knew not what, as she disengaged herself from his arm. She felt sure that he did not yet know all his own misery. He could not be aware of Flora's marriage, for his' look, though it betrayed•some agitation, was not grief. And Evelyn shuddered as she thought of the despair which he was to feel soon. There was a silence Eustace stood with his arms folded, and his eyes wandering about,--but never fixed on any one object. There was a degree of embarrassment in his manner which Evelyn had never seen before, and which was, indeed, completely extra ordinary in him, so composed and calm -as he always was. At last he again spoke. "I have been talking to Mr. Lester_ She'told me that if I asked you, you would tell me something which it ports`me to know."- 7 14e looked into -Eveljitis face as he concluded, earnestly NUMBER ,26. and inquiringly. Poor Evelyn, she trembled in every limb. She, then,was to tell him the extent of his misery. It was to be her task to inform him of the utter faithlessness of Flora, and to wit ness all his despair on hearing it. In the tumult of her distress she never thought how strange it was that her mother should have been the means for inflicting this last, worst pang of all upon her. She had room for but one thought, one idea—only one question occurred to her—how wtfs she to tell him ? She stretched forth her hands timidly, yet with an earnest meaning in her eyes —she clasped his hands in her own.— All the retiring shyness of her nature was forgotten in the intense wish to -often the coming blow ; her own shri n king sensitiveness, rendered yet more 'qxtreme by the conscious love that dwelt ii: her heart, all was unheeded. She forgot her love in thinking of his sorrow. "How shall 1 , ,A1 you ? she said, "it is so very, very sau. My heart aches for you." Eustace looked on her uplifted face, half in wonder, half in sudden anguish. "What do you mean ?" he said. "1 entreat you, be quick in telling me all. I am prepared to hear the worst.'' "I can not, I can not," cried Evelyn in agony, and she turned away. Her eyes fell on the newspaper that she had been reading, and it suggested itself as the means of letting him know all. Si lently, she placed it in his hands, and then hid her : eyes that she might not see his face as he read it. He only read a few lines of the long paragraph she had pointed out, and then dashed the paper to the ground mu seized Evelyn's hand. "There is some error here," he said rapidly. "How eouldyou suppose n* happiness affeeted by the marriage o. Miss Beresford with Lord Courtuaye My affection for her was never strong enough to survive• the diseovery that Once placed in scenes of gayety and dis sipation she was nothMg more than a heartless, worldly beauty. 0 Evelyn! the joy of my life rests I,n surer founda tion than that of Flora's truth. I Only gave my worship fora time to a hike goddess, to find more surely where the true one was. For nearly twelve months I h ave fa„,l you, () joy pm! For you 1 have striven with the world that I might east my fiune at your feet ; fur you I have toiled for gain, that I might offer you a home worthy of you. I came to day to ask you if i have strived and toiled in vain,!'lrme !" 'There was a long pause, only liroken by the sobs which mist from poor Eve overladen heart. Whim she spoke, it was only two or three words, in an al most ulleoneeivaiily low toile. But lov er,' ear , are quick to Cat c h the words whirl make their happiimss, and Ens tuee Fan, heard and was satisfied. That eveniog the pale moon shone in on the ehaniher, where, Olic, bore, Eve lyn sat, her head !owed on her breast, weeping out the bewilderment of sud den, strange ,joy. But the tears were sweet ones, and they were sweeter still, when her mother stole softly into the room and passed her :wins round her Atild's waist and plated the head on her breast. "(,:od has answered my prayers," said Mrs. Lester softly, "and I shall see Ghee happy, my darling!' "0 mother! dear mother! you do not know how happy. The bliss of a whop life has already been given to me," Evelyn, elinOng closely to her mother. And then, liluithing and half-smilim through her tears, she whigered,"l Love hint co well, mother; I have loved him so long. And 1 have sutThred too ; for there was a keen agony in feeling that the love dwelling deep in my heart, 11111. [wined with my whole lieing, must ht a•ushell, for that it wa , sill. I have suffered !' "[ knoW it, my ohild ; 1 know itall ;' said Mrs. Lester, softly ; "your mother't prayers and blessings have followed yoi an all your struggles.'' Evelyn gazed with r,•verent touchiest in la r mother's pale, tearful face, now lit ~t ith an unwonted brightness. She twined her arms round her !meek, ant., kissed her brow. "No wonder Tan happy," she whis pered, "a mother's prayers:lnd blessings are holy things!" But there is something holier even than these. Th, sorrows of a younp heart silently s: niggling to win th, eight, are the especial tare of heaven.— file noblest 'lima-. aro they who fight with t heir own souls : the most glorious martyrs are they who immolate them selves at the shrine of their own stern sense of thity. On such heroes, such martyrs, the myriad eyes of heaven keep watch, and when they have fought and conquered, suffered, endured, and gain ed their reward, we may surely believe that angel.. smilc 4.11 t vim,,r, :Ind that there is rejoicing above. THE MAIDEN WARRIOR \ Ta L - 1?1."1111.: I: EV( No struggle in history has produced nobler instances of heroism than that of our own glorous Revolution. Tie achievements which light up the expanse of the deadly conflict, like the stars in the firmament, put to shame the melo-dramatie heroes of Greece in deed, it is not too much to say that every mountain has been a Thermopyhe, and every battle-field a Marathon. Occasionally these deeds of war have been Fk‘7 4 .l.ted by the sweetest of all pas sions—love; and is is a tale of love and patriotism ace have now to tell. Sergt. Jasper belonged to the eallanl hand of Marion's brigade, where his V& or and talents sou won him distincJcOß• Among other daring deeds, hi reseu ing our flag at the. battle of yort Moul trie deserves to be mentiopa 111 the hostile fire of the .oatifiki the flag was shot. away and fell p.r 2 fhout the fort.— Leaping over illy 'rampart, he seized the flag, and reti‘ined amidst the cheers of even the BYitisli. For this daring deed Gen. Rutledge presented him wall a sword. Like many other families at that time, his was divided on that occasion. His older brother took the side of the Eng lish, and served in their army. Out o; affection for his brother`, , and a wish to examine into the strength. and condi tion of the enemy, he resolved, in com pany with another patriot. soldier, Ser geant Newton, to pay the Brillsha visit. His brother's position in it. enabled him to receive his two friends without any suspicio t gof their being spies, and they were entertained for two or three days with great hospitality. While they were thuS engaged a par ty.of Americans were brought in pris oners ; and as they had .deserted from the British and enlisted in the Ameri can ranks, their doom would have been to die: This the brother of Jasper as !Aired them was to be their fate. With • 7rs or hit 4.7.- try: a-0 lize^..(4-'7O,AVItt ' REAn'a FEWN/ITAL ER 0 RTMINGi - 711 first t eacriotpc _ PATE', giurCithetVitiOL column.- • Otte i HoWOOlitimi, 2 ril, 1 2 2 V.zi.F.lrt.i _ •6 _ t . . y. T4G- &OD • ... SAO Au.; • . L 60.• _ Other • • •• „ .-"ten •lines,' or 1ea5,,,,„ there were the wife-4114 atiWrett econe of the prisoners. Eler 4usb-231.0!, ap proaching fate, touched the heart per. Confiding his pupae to,his friend -Newton, they bade adieu to Jasper's brother and tools their ienve. They hpAi no sooner got outside of., that campthiyi they made a detour and stretched es...Oss the country, so as to elude all.sitsple,ion should they meet with, any British sol diers. It was the custom of the English qien to send all the prisoners taken. in .that quarter to Savannah. At a little spring, about two miles off from - the latter place, Jasper and .New ton secreted themselves, awaiting - the arrival of the prisoners. It had, occur red to Jasper that perhaps they .might rest here for a short time to ,retreah themselves, and the woody nature of the spot would favor their rescue. After some suspense they saw the es cort with the prisoners approach.. .The guard was ten in nui*m.r,:en4 armed , The corporal with four men .conduct ed their captives to the water, and told them to rest themselves for an hour, at the same time giving them some-pro visions. The sergeant then told the men they should ground their arms and rest them sblyes. The prisoners then threw them selvca, upon the earth in hopeless de spair. Scar to the wretched man and wife and child two of the men alone kept their arm., as sentinels. As the rest of the men Were filling their can teens with water, Jasper and Newton came stealthily along behind them, seized two of the muskets ,I,hat were stacked, shot the two sentries, and rush ing upon the others, stunned them with the butts of their muskets. Deprived of their arms, the soldiers abandoned :he conflict and flew. Releasing the prisoners, they escaped teross the river to the Americans. But the most romantic incident in this brave man's life was his love for Miss :Sallie St. Clair, or, as she is termed in our annah, the " Maiden warrior." This was a beautiful Creole girl, who returned his passion with a purity and intensity - seldom known upon this cold orb. When he was called upon to join the &Raiders of his country her grief knew no bound,. "File hour of parting came, ai l the gtili:tilt soldier sprang upon his horse :Ind joined his regiment. Hardly li, l the sound of his horse's feet died upon her eur, than her roman tie nut tut suggested the plAtt Of 1404= lug her lover by enlisting in the same brigade. Tier pr46ect was fully resolved upon am I immediately put into execution. Aft securing a suit of male attire as ilear her own size as possible, she sev ered her lone. and jetty locks, dressed her hair like a man's, and purchasing herself a horse, she set off three. days after to offer ]Ter services to the noble Nliirion. Her offer was accepted, and a lithe, active stripling vas added to the corps to which her lover lielonged, Thu contrast between the stripling. am I these nu•n in their• uncouth garbs t nordee race eruhrowned and discolor ed by rain, Nl ati indeed striking. But no one Was So eager for the battle, or so indifferent to catigue as the fair-faced hoy. It was found that his energy of character, resolution and courage amp ly suppliedhis lack of physique. None ever .-uispertell lon to be a woman. Not .veli Jasper himself, although he was :Alen I),v her Side . , penetMted her dis mise. The romance of her situation increaa -2d the fervor of her passion. It was her delight to reflect that unknown to him, site was ever by his si,de, watching over hint in the hour of datigkr.. lier passion was fed by gazing upon him, in the hour of danger, hovering near him, when stealing through : the ,wamp and thieket and being, always :cady to avert danger from his head. But gradually there stole a melan :holy presentiment over the poor girl's !ninth. She had been tortured with mope deferred, the war was prolonged, oil the prospect of being restored to hum grew more uncertain. But now she telt that her dreams of 'tappiness could never be realized, : She )(femur! convinced that death was about o snatch tier away from his side, but prayed that she might die and he ovver know to what length the violence if her i assion had led her. It was an eve before a battle. The camp had sunk in repose, the watchfires were burning low and only the slow .read of the sentinels fell upon the.pro ound silence of the night air as they moved through the dark shadows of the forest. Upon the ground, with no other couch than a blanket, reposed the war like form of Jasper. Climbing, vines trailed themselves to a canopy above his head, through which the stars shorte down brightly. The faint flicker from the expiring unifiers of a tire fell athwart his eouti 7 tenance amid tinged the cheek of . one who bent over his couch. It was the sneioth faced stripling. She bent low down as if to listen to his dreams or to breath into his soul pleasant dreams of lave and happiness. But tears traced themselves dorarithe f fir one's cheeks and fell upon the i hrow of her lover. A mysterious voice ht oi told hen that the hour of parting bird come, that to morrow her destilyS is consummated, There is one, lq long, long look, and then the only , Ppy maid is seen to-teat herse lf aw ,, , y from the spot to weep out her sorr'iv in privacy. : l: prise and terrible is the conflict - that or the morrow rages on that spot. -The -:' - oremost one in the battle is the intrepid Jasper, and ever by his side that light -tripling warrior. Often during the heat and the smoke gleams suddenly on the eyes of Jasper the melancholy face of the maiden. In the thickest of the fight, surrounded by enemiesi•=fought the lovers, side by side. A lance is slid? • denly leveled at the breast of Jasper; but swifter than the lance 14-the smooth faced warrior. There is a wildcry and at the feet of Jasper sinks the-maiden with the life-blood gushing , from the white bosom, which had been•'thrown as a shield before his breast. •He did not hear the din and danger of the con a. - Met, but down by the side of that dying body he kneels. . .; Then, for the first time, does he learn that the stripling is his love; thet the dim visions in his slumber of an angel face hovering above had Indeed beim true. In the midst of the toattligyriat her lover by her side and theiirifistill in her bosom, the heroic' tonideff, dies. • Her name, her sex and Ifier*Vile de' votion soon became known IliAiiihout the corps., There, was a' te04.. -3 04 1- ; gathering around her' wasn't one of thosikhardrWartiiii.iktio did not bedew her greie They biiried.heineaitheAsAlatntte' - ' In a g r eenur*lrcih4 l ,o, , It had. IfeenLetolerri4atolfflilit:
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers