itt - ganiitotti Int
gtiletr
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kII7UI I
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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: