aatrtttgww, Publxsbss evert Wednesday bt H. G. SMITH A CO A. J. Steihman K. G. Smith TERMS—'Two Dollars per annum, payable In all oases in advanoe. Tub Lancaster daily Intelligences Is published every evening, Sunday excepted, at $5 per Annum In advance. OFFlCE—Southwest ooamca or Centre SQUARE. jgfletfy. BUN WILD, Here was the gale. The broken paling, As If before tlio wind, inclines. The post half rotted, ahd the pickets, falling, Held only up by vines. The plum trees stand, though gnarled and speckled With leprosy ol old disease; Uy oells of wormy llle the trunks are freckled, And moss eulolds their knees. I push aside the boughs aud enter; Alas ! the garden's nyiaph has lied,! With every charm that leaf and blotsum lent her. And left a hag instead. Home lemnle satyr from the thicket, Chlla cf the brumblo and the weod. Bpraug shouting over the unguarded wicket With all her savago breed. She banished hence the ordier- d grucos Thut MnootLed away for Ueauly’s lett, And gave her ugliest imps t he vacant plic s, To spoil what once was sweet.. II to, under runkUrg mulleins, dwindle Thu borders, rildduii long ago ; Here shoot the dock Hi many a rusty * p null* Ami p irslano creeps below. 'i Iju thyme iugh wild, aud vainly sweetens, Hid irom Us Lees, the ci.Jiquerltig gnus ; Aud even the rose with bvhry niuuacu threatens To tear me as I pass. Where show the w. eds agrayer c )k;r, The sta ks of lavender und rue .Stretch like Imploring arms— bu\ ever duller, They slowly porls/i too- Only the pear tree’s frultleKH tcion Exults above the garden’s fall; Only tblck-tu.ttued ivy. like a lion, Devours the crumbling wall. What still survives becomes as savage As that winch oulured to d' stroy. Taking an.air of riot aud r.f ravuge, Of strauge aud watilou Joy. No copse unpruned, no mountain hollow, Ho lawless In ns growth may be ; Where the wl.d weeds have room to chase *nd lollow, They graceful arc, and free. iUil nature here attorn pis revenges For her obedience uuto l ol I;, Hho brings her ru.ultu.st lifu wlih lonthcme clmiigcs To nullo tbo fultcnod soil. For herbs of swcut and w holcsnme savor hliu plants her t,lcm» ot lilllur Julri- ; From llowurs slie Meals Hie sceut, In.m halls the II ivor. From homelier things Ibu use. Her ungel Is a mock Ing devil, 11 once tho luw relax Hs bauds; In Man’s neglected fluids she i.oids her revel, Takes back, and spoils his lands «.)nco baviug broken ground, he never The Virgin sod can plant again ; Tho soli demum-H his sot vices foiever— And Uod gives sun and rain ! Bayard Taylor, in tin: Atlantic uf Ayril. A Hide wllli it Miul Horn* In n Freight Should the leader ever vitiiL tne south inlet of Kaequetlo Lake, —one of the loveliest bits of water in the Adirondack wilderness, —at tho Jowor end of the pool below the falls, on the left hand aide going up, he will see the charred remnants of a camp-lire. It was there that the following story was llrst told, —told, too, ao graphically, with such vividness, that I found little dilliculty, when writing it out from memory two months later, in recalling the exact words of the narrator in almost every instance. It was in the month of July, isos, i that John and I, having located our j permanent camp on Constable’s Point,! were Jyfng oil' and on, as Bailors say, j nbout the luke, pushing our explora tions on all sides out of sheer love of .novelty and. abhorreuce of idleness. — Wo were returning, late one afternoon | ■of a hot, sultry day, from a trip to Shedd j \hake,—a lonely, out of-the-way spot which few sportsmen have ever vjsi- ! ted,—and had reached the Jails ou j .South Inlet just after sunset. Aw we j were getting shorlof venison, we deeid- ( rd to lie by awhile ami Hunt down the 1 river ou our way to camp, in hope of meeting a deer. To this end we had gone ashore at this point, and, kindling a small lire, were waiting for denser darkness. We had barely started the blaze, when the tap of a carelessly ban- j died paddle against the side of a boat ! warned us .that we should soon have I company, aud in a moment two boatH , -.glided around the curve below, und , ’were headed directly toward our biv- ; - ouac. The boats contained two gen-J tlemen and their guides. We gave 1 them a cordial, hunter-like greeting, aud, lighting our pipes, were soon en gaged in cheerful conversation, spiced with story-telling. It might have been sonic twenty minutes or more, when another boat, smaller than you ordiua* , rily see even on those waters, contain*' ing only the puddler, came noiselessly i around the bend below, and stood re* ; venled in the rellection of the firelight. I chanced to be sitting in such a posi tion las to command a full view ot the ojurve in ihe.rivcr, or 1 should not have known of any approach, for tire boat was so shar|» ami light, and he who urged it ulong ao akilled at the paddle, thut not a ripple, no, nor the Bound of a drop of water falling from blade or shaft, betrayed the paddler’s presence. If there ia anything over which I be come enthusiastic, it is such a boat aud such puddling. To see a boat of bark or cedar move through the water noise* leasly as a shadow drifts across a mead ow, ui) jar or creak above, no gurgling of displaced water below, no whirliug and rippling wake aatern, is something bordering ao nearly on the weird amt ghostly, that custom can never make it seem other than marvellous to me. Thus, as I Hat half reclining, and saw that little shell come llouting airily out of the darkness into the projection of the firelight, as.a feather might come .blown by the night wind, 1 thought I liad never seen a prettier or more fairy like sight. None of the party save myself were so seated as to look down stream, aud I wondered which of the three guides would first discover the ' presence of the approaching boat.— Straight ou it came. Light as a piece of finest cork it sat upon and glided over the surfaceof the river; no dip and roll, uo drip of falling water as the paddle shaft gently rose and sank. The pad tiler, whoever he might be, knew his art thoroughly. He sat erect and mo tionless. The turn of the wrists, and the easy elevation of his arms as he feathered his paddle, weie the only movements visible. Hut for these the gazer might deem him a statue carved from the material of the boat, a mere inanimate part of it. I have boated much in bark canoe and cedar shell alike, and John and I have stolen on many a camp that never knew our com ing or o.ur going, with puddles which touched the water as snow flakes touch the earth ; aud well I knew, as I sat gazing at this man, that not one boat man, red mau or white, in a hundred could haudle a paddle like that. The quick ear of John, when the stranger was within thirty feet of the landing, detected the lightest possible touch of a lily-pad against the hide of the boat as it just grazed it glancing by, aud bis •'‘hist” and sudden motion toward the river drew the attention of the whole ' surprised group thither. The boat glided to the saud so geutly as barely to disturb a grain, and the paddler, noiseless in.all his movements, stepped ashore and entered our circle. “Well, stranger,” said John, “I don't 1 know how long your lingers have pol- ; •Jsh'fcd a puddle-shaft, but it isu’t every < k man who can push a boat up ten rods •of open water within twenty feet of my ; iback without my knowing it.” The stranger laughed pleasautly, and -without making any direct reply, lighted Ibis pipe and joined in the conversa tion. He was tail in stature, wiry and bronzed. An ugly cicatrice stretched on the left side of his face from tem ple almost down to chin. His eyes were dark gruy, frank and genial. I concluded at oneo that he was a gen tleman, and had seen service. Before lie joined us, we had been whiling away the time by story-telling, and John was at the very crisis of an ad venture with a panther, when his quick ear detected the strauger’s approach. Explaining this to him, I told John to ' resume his story, which he did. Thus half an hour passed quickly, all of us relating some “ experience.” At last I proposed that Mr. .Roberts —for so we will call him—should entertain us; “ and,” continued X,' ‘if I am right in my surmise that you have seen service and been under fire, give us some ad venture or incident which may have befallen you during the war.” ♦ He complied, and then and there, gen tle reader, I heard from his lips the sto fy which, for the entertaiument of friends, I afterwards wrote out. It left a deep Impression upon all who heard it around our camp fire under the pines that night; and from the mind of one I know has never been erased the im pression made by the story which I have named A BIDE WITH A MAD HORSE IN A : , "FREIGHT CAB. ‘‘Well/’ said the strauger, as he loos ened his stretched himself in ®l|C Lancaster VOLUME 70 an easy, recumbent position, 1 it is not more than fair that I should throw something into the stock of common entertainment; but the story I am to tell you is a sad one, and I fearwill not add to the pleasure of the evening. As you desire it, however, and it comes in the line of the request that I would nar rate some personal episode of the war, I will tell it, and trust the Impression will not be altogether unpleasant. “ It was at the battle of Malvern Hill —a battle where the carnage was more frightful, as it seems to me, than in any this side of the Alleghanics during the whole war,—that my story must begin. I was then serving as Major in the —th Massachusetts Regiment, the old —th as wo used to call it, —and a bloody time the boys had of it too. About 2P. M. we had been sent out to skirmish along the edge of the wood in which, as our generals suspected, the Rebs Jay mass ing for a charge across the slope, upon the crest of which our army was posted. We had barely entered the underbrush when we mot the heavy formations of Magruder in the very act of charging. Of course, our thin line of skirmishers was no impediment to those onrushing masses. They were on us and over us before we could get out of the way. I do not thiuk that half of those running, screaming masses of men ever knew that they had passed over the remnants of as plucky a regiment as ever came out of the old Bay State. But many of the boys had good reason to remember that afternoon at the base of Malvern Hill, and I among the number; for i when the last line of Rebs had passed ! over me, I was left amid the bushes with the breath nearly trampled out of me, and an ugly bayonet-gash through my thigh; and mighty little consolatiou was it for me at that moment to see the fellow who run me through lying stark dead at my ; side, with a bullet-hole in I his head, his shock of coarse black hair ; matted with blood, ami bis stony eyes I looking intomine. Well, I bandaged up I my limb tbe bestl might, andstarted' to crawl away, forour batteries hadopened, and the grape and canister that came hurtling down the slope passed but a few feet over my head. It was alow and painful work, as you can imagine, but at last, by dint of perseverance, I had dragged myself away to the left of the direct range of the batteries, and, creep ing to the verge of the wood, looked of! over the green slope. I understood by the crash and roar of the guns, the yells and cheers of the men, and that hoarse murmur which those who have been in battle know, but which I cannot describe in words, that there was hot work going on out there ; but never have I seen, no, i not in that three days’ desperate mclcc j at the Wilderness, nor at that terrific re j pulse we had at Cold Harbor, such ab !ho 1 u to slaughter as I saw that afternoon on t he green olopeof Malvern Hill. The guile of the entire army were massed on the crest,and thirty thousand of our infantry lay, musket in hand, in front. For eight hundred yards the hill sank in easy declension to the wood, and across this smooth expanse the Rebs must charge to reach our lines. It was nothing short of downright insanity to order men to charge that hill; and so his generals told Lee, but he would not listen to reason that day, and so he sent regiment after regiment, and brigade after brigade, and division after division, to certain death. Talk about Grant’s disregard of human life, his effort at Cold Harbor—and I ought to know, for I got a ininio in my shoulder that day —was hopeful ami easy work to what Lee laid on Hilfs and Magruder's divi.-ions at Malvern. It was atthe close of the second charge, when the yelling mass reeled back from before the blaze of tlione sixty guns and thirty thousand rides, even as they began to break and fly backward toward the woods, that 1 saw from Lhe spot where J lay a rider less horse break out of the confused and Hying mass, and, with mane and tail erect and spreading nostril, come dash ing obliquely down tho slope. Over fallen steeds and heaps of the dead she leaped with a motion as airy as that of Lhe Hying fox when, fresh and unjaded, he leads away from the hounds, whose sudden cry has broken him off from hunting mice amid tho bogs of the meadow. So this riderless horse came vaultiug along. Now from my earliest boyhood I have had what horsemen call a ‘weakness’ for horse 9. Only give me a colt of wild, irregular temper aud tierce blood to tame, and lam perfectly happy, Never did lash of mine, siugiug with cruel sound through the air, faff on such a colt’s soft hide. Never did yell or kick send his hot blood from heart to head delug ing his sensitive brain with fiery cur rents, driving him to frenzy or blinding him with fear; but touches, soft and gentle us a woman’s, caressing words, aud oats given from the open palm, and uufailing kindness, werethemeans I used to ‘subjugate’ him. Wweet subjugation, both to him who subdues ami to him who yields! The wild, unmannerly, and unmanageable colt, t he fear of horsemen the country round, dnding in you, not an enemy but a friend, receiving his daily food from you, and all those little ‘nothings’ which go as far with a horse as a wo man, to win and retain affection, grows to look upon you as his protector and friend, and testifies in countless ways his fondness for you. So when I saw this horse, with action so free and mo tion so graceful, amid that storm of bul lets, my heart involuntarily wentoutto her, and my feelings rose higher and higher at every leap she took from amid the whirlwind of fire and lead. And as she plunged at last over a little hillock out of rauge and came careering toward me as only a riderless horse might come, her head dung wildly from side to side, her nostrils wiJely spread, her dank aud shoulders flecked with foam, her eyes dilating, I forgot my wound and all the wild roar of battle, and, lifting myself involuntarily to a sitting posture as she swept grandly by, gave her a ringing cheer. “Perhaps in the sound of a human voice of happy mood amid the awful din she recognized a resemblance to the voice of him whose blood moistened her shoulders aud was even yet dripping from saddle aud housings, lie that as it may, no sooner had my voice sounded theu she flung her head-with a proud upward movement into the air, swerved sharply to theleft,neighedasshe might to a master at morning from her stall, and came trotting directly up to where I lay, and, pausing, looked down upou me as it were iu compassion. I spoke again, and stretched out my hand ca ressingly. She pricked her ears, took a step forward and lowered her nose until it came in contact with my palm. Never did I fondle anything moreteu derly, never did I see an animal which seemed to so court and appreciate hu man tenderness as that beautiful mare. I say ‘beautiful.’ No other word might describe her. Never will her image fade from my memory while memory lasts. “In weight she might have turned, when well conditioned, nine huudred and iifty pounds. In color she was a dark chestnut, with a velvety depth and soft look about the hair indescrib ably rich and elegant. Many a time have I heard ladies dispute the shade and huo of her plu9h-like coat as they ran their white, jewelled fingers through her silken hair. Her body was round in the barrel, and perfectly symmetri cal. She was wide in the haunches, without projection of the hip bones, up on which the shorter ribs seemed to lap. High in the withers as she was, the line of her back and neck perfectly curved, while her deep, Oblique should ders and long thick fore-arm, ridgy with swelling sinews, suggesting the perfection of stride and power. Her knees across the pau were wide, the cauuon-bone below them short and thin ; the pasterns long and sloping ; her hoofs rouud, dark, shiny, and well set od. Her mane was a shade darker than her coat, fine and thin, as a thor oughbred’s always is whose blood is without taint or cross. Her ear was thin, sharply pointed, delicately curved, nearly black around the borders, and as tremulous as the leaveß of an aspen. Her neck rose from the withers to the head in perfect curvature, hard, devoid of fat, and well cut up under the chops. Her nostrils were full, very full, and thin almost as parchment. The eyes, from which tears might fall or fire flash, were well brought out, soft as a gazelle’s, almost human in their in telligence, while over the small bony head, over neck and shoulders, yea, over the whole body and clean down to the’hoofs, the veins stood out as if the skin were buttissue- paper against which the warm blood pressed, and which it might at any moment burst asunder. ‘A perfect animal,’ I said to myself, as I lay looking her over, —‘an animal which might nave been born from the wind and the sunshine, so cheerfol and so Bwlft she seems; an animal which a man would present as his choicest gift to the woman he loved, and. yet one whion that woman, wife or .lady-love, would give him to ride when honor and life depended on bottom and &peed.’ “Ail thatafternoon the beautiful mare stood over me, while away to the right of us the hoarse tide of battle flowed and ebbed. What charm, what delusion of memory, held her there? Was my face to her as the face of her dead master, sleeping a sleep from which not even the wildest roar of battle, no, nor her cheerful neigh at morning, would ever wake him? Or is there in animals some instinct, answering to our intuition, only more potent, which tells them whom to trust and whom to avoid ? I know not, and yet some such sense they may have, they must have; or else why should this mare so fearlessly attach herself tome? By what process of reason or instinct I know not, hut there she chose me for her master ; for when some of my men at dusk came searching, and found me. and, laying me on a stretcher, started toward our lines, the mare, uncom pelled, of her own freewill, followed at my side ; and all through that stormy night of wind and rain, as my men struggled along through the mud and mire toward Harrison's Landing, the mare followed, and ever after, until she died, was with me, and was mine, and I, so far as man might be, was hers. X named her Gulnare. “ As quickly as my wound permitted, I was transported to Washington, whith er I took the mare with me. Her fond ness for me grew daily, and soon be came so marked as to cause universal comment. I had her boarded while in Washington at the corner of Street aud Avenue. The groom had In structions to lead her around to the window against which was my bed, at the hospital, twice every day, so that by opening the sash I might reach out my hand and pettier. But the second day, no sooner bad she reached the street, than she broke suddenly from the groom and dashed away at full speed. I was lying, bolstered up in bed, reading, when I heard the rush of flying feet, and in an instant, with a loud, joyful neigh, she checked herself in frontof my window. And when the nurse lifted the sash, the beautiful crea ture thrust her head through the aper ture, and rubbed her nose against my shoulder like a dog. lam not ashamed to say that I put both my arms around her neck, and, burying my face in her silken mane, kissed her again and again. Wounded, Veak, aud away from home, with only strangers to wait upon me, and scaut service at that, the affection of this lovely creature for me, so tender aud touching, seemed almost human, and my heart went out to her beyond any power of expression, as to the only being, of all the thousands around me, who thought of me and loved me. Shortly after her appearauce at my win dow, the groom, who had divined where he should find her, came into the yard. But she would not allow him to come near her, much less touch her. If he tried to approach she would lash out at him with her heels mostspitefully, and then, laying back her ears and opening her mouth savagely, would make a short dash at and, as the terrified African disappeared around the corner of the hospital, she would wheel, and, with a face bright as a happy child’s, come trotting to the window for me to pet her. I shouted to the groom to go back to tile stable, for I had no doubt but that she would return to her stall when I closed the window. Rejoiced at the permission, he departed. After some thirty minutes, the last ten of which she was standing with her slim, delicate head in my lap, while I braided here foretop and combed out ner silken mane, I lifted her head, and, patting her softly Ou either cheek, told her that she must ‘go.’ 1 gently pushed her head out of the window and closed U, and then, holding up my hand, with the palm turned toward her, charged her, making the appropriate motion, to ‘ go away right straight back to her stable.’ For a moment she stood looking steadi ly at me, with an indescribable expres sion of hesitation and surprise in her clear, liquid eyes, and then, turniDglin geringly, walked slowlyoutoftheyard, “Twice a day forneanyamonth,while I lay in the hospital, did Gulnare visit me. At the appointed hour the groom would slip her headstall, and, without a word of command, she would dart out of the stable, and, with her long, leop ard-like lope, go sweeping down the street and come dashing into the hos pital yard, checking herself with the same glad neigh at my window; nor did she ever once fail, at the closing of the sash, to return directly to her stall. The groom informed me that every morning and evening, when the hour of her visit drew near, she would begin to chafe and worry, and, by pawing and pulling at the halter, advertise him that it was time for her to be released. “ But of all exhibitions of happiness, either by beast or man, hers was the most positive on that afternoon when, racing into the yard, she found me lean ing on a crutch outside the hospital building. The whole corps of nurses came to the doors, and all the poor fel lows that could move themselves,—for Gulnare had become an universal fa vorite, and the boys looked for her daily visits nearly, if not quite, as ar dently as I did, to the win dows to see her. What gladness was expressed in every movement! She would come prancing toward me, bead and tail erect, and, pausing, rub her head against my shoulder, while I pat ted her glossy neck ; then suddenly, with a sidewisespring, she would break away, and with her long tail elevated until her magnificent brush, fine and Silken as the golden hair of a blonde, fell in a great spray on either flank, and her head curved to its proudest arch, pace around me with that high action and springing step peculiar to the thoroughbred. Then like a flash, dropping her brush and laying back her ears and stretching her nose straight out, she would speed away with that quick, nervous, low-lying action which marks the rush of racers, when side by side aud nose to nose lapping each other, with the roar of cheers on either hand and along the seats above them, they come »straining up the home stretch. Returning from one pi these arrowy flights, she curvetting back, now pacing on parade, now dashing her hindtfeet high into the air, and anon vaulting up and springing through the air, with legs well under her, as if in the act of taking a five-barred gate, and finally Would approach and stand happy in her reward—my caress. “The war, at last, was over. Gulnare aud I were in at the death with Sheri dan at the Five Forks. Together we had shared the Richmond and Washington, and never had I seen her in better spirits than on that day at the capital. It was a sight in deed, to see her as she came dowu Penusylvaula Avenue. If the trium phant procession had been all in her honor and mine, she could not have moved with greater grace and pride. With dilating eye and tremulous ear, ceaselessly champiDg her bit, her heated blood bringing out the magnificent lace work of veins over her entire body,, now and then pausing, and with a snort gathering herself back upon her haunches as for a mighty leap, while she shook the froth from her bits, she moved with a high, prancing step down the magnificent street, the admired of all beholders. Cheer after cheer was given, huzza after huzza rang out over her head from roofs and balcony, bou quet after bouquet was lauuched by fair and enthusiastic admirers before her; and yet, amid the crash and swell of music, the cheering and tumult, so gen tle and manageable was she, that, though I could feel her frame creep and tremble under me as she moved through that whirlwind of excitement, no check or curb was needed, and the bridleline9 —the same she wore she came to me at Malvern Hill—lay unlifted on the pommel of the saddle. Never before had the fire and energy, the grace and gen tleness, of her blood so revealed them selves. This was the day and the event she needed. And all the royalty of her ancestral breed—a race of equine kings, flowing as without taint or cross from him that was the pride send wealth of the whole tribe of desert rangers, ex pressed itself in her. I need not say that I shared her mood. I sympa thized in her every step. I entered into all her royal humors. I patted her neck and spoke loving and cheerful words to her. I called her my beauty, my pride, my pet. And did she not understand me? Every word! Else why that listening ear turned back to catch my softest whisper; why the re LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING APRIL 7 1569 sponaive quiver through the frame, and the low, happy neigh ? ‘Well,' I ex claimed, as I leaped from her back at the close of the review,—alas! that words spoken in lightest mood should portend so much! ‘well, Gulnare if you should die, your life has had its triumph. The nation itself, through its admiring capital, has paid tribute to your beauty, and death can never rob you of your fame.' And I patted her moist neck and foam-flecked shoulders, while the grooms were busy with head and loins. “That night our brigade made its bivouac justoverLoDgßridge, almoston the identical spot where four years be fore I had camped my company of three months’ volunteers. With what experi ences of march and battle were those four years filled! For three of these years Gulnare had been my constant companion. With mo she had shared my tent, aud not rarely my rations, for in appetite she was truly human, and my steward always counted her as one of our ‘mess.’ Twice had she been wounded, once at Fredericksburg, through the thigh ; aud once at Cold Harbor, where a piece of shell tore away a part of her scalp. So com pletely did it stun her, that for some moments I thought her dead, but to my great joy she shortly recovered her senses. I had the wound carefully dressed by our brigade surgeon, from whose care she came in a month with the edges of the wound so nicely unit ed that the eye could with difficulty detect the scar. This night, as usual, Bhe lay at my side, her head almost touching mine. Never before, unless when on a raid and in face of the enemy, had I seen her so uneasy. Her movements during the night compelled wakefulness on my part. The sky was cloudless, and in the dim light I lay and watched her. Now she would stretch herself at full length, and rub her head on the ground. Then she would start up, ami, sitting on her haunches, likea dog, lift ouo fore leg and paw her neck and ears. Anon she would rise to her feet and shake herself, walk oil' a few rods, return and lie down again by my side. I did not know what to make of it, unleeß the excitementof the day had been too much for her sensitive nerves. I spoke to her kindly aDd petted her. Iu response she would rnb her nose against me, and lick my hand with her tongue—a peculiar habit of hers—like a dog. As I was passing my handover her head, I discovered that it was hot, and the thought of the old wound flashed into my mind, with a momentary fear that something might be wrong about her brain, but after thiuking it over I dismissed it as incredible. Still I was alarmed. I knew that something was amiss, aud I rejoiced at the thought that I should soon be at home where she could have quiet, and, if need be, the best of nursing. At length the morning dawned, and the mare and took our last meal togetheron Southern soil—the last we ever took together. The brigade was formed in line for the last time, and as I rode down the front to review the boys, she moved with all her battle grace and power. Only now and then, by a shake of the head, was I reminded of her actions during the night. I said a few wprds ot farewell to the men whom I had led so often to battle, with whom I had shared perils not a few, and by whom, as I hacl reason to think, I was loved, and then gave, with a voice slightly unsteady, the last order they would ever receive from me: ‘ Brigade, Attention, Ready to break ranks, Break Ranhi.' The order was obeyed. But ere they scattered, moved by acommonimpulse, they gave first three cheers for me, and then, with the same heartiness and even more power, three cheers for Gulnare. And she, standing there, looking with her bright, cheerful countenance full at the men, pawing with her fore feet, alternately, the ground, seemed to un derstand the compliment; for no soon er had the cheering died away than she arched her neck to its proudest curve, lifted her thin, delicate head into the air, and gave a short, joyful neigh. “My arrangements for transporting her had been made by a friend the day before. A large, roomy car had been secured, its floor strewn with bright clean straw, a bucket and a bag of oats provided, and everything done for her comfort. The car was to be at tached to the through express, in con sideration of fifty dollars extra, which I gladly paid, because of the greater rapidity with which it enabled me to make my journey. As the brigade broke up into groups, I glanced at my watch and saw that I had barely time to reach the cars before they started. I snook the reins upon her neck, aud with a plunge, startled at the energy of my signal, away she Hew. What a stride she had ! What an elasticspring ! She touched and left the earth asif her limbs were of spiral wire. When I reached tbe car my friend was standing in front of i t, the gang plank was ready, I leaped from the saddle and running up the plank into the car, whistled to her; and she, timid and hesitating, yet un willing to be separated from me, crept slowly and cautiously up the steep in cline and stood beside me. Inside I found a complete suit of flannel clothes with a blanket and, better than all, a lunch-basket. My friend explained that he had bought the clothes as he came down to the depot, thinking, as he said, ‘ that they would be much better than your regimentals/ and suggested that I dofl'the one and don the other. To this I assented the more readily as I reflected that I would have to pass one night at least in the car, with no better i bed than tbe straw under my faet. I had barely time to undress before the cars were coupled and started. I tossed the clothes to my friend with the in junction to pack them in my trunk apd express them on to me, aud waved him my adieu. I arrayed myself in the nice cool flannel and looked around. The thoughtfulness of my friend had antici pated every waut. An old cane seated chair stoou in one corner. The lunch basket was largo and well supplied. Amid the oats 1 found a dozen oranges, some bananas, andapackageofrealHa yaua cigars. How I called dowu bless ings on his thoughtful head as I took the chair, and lighting one of the fine flavored Jigaros, gazed out on the fields past which we were gliding, yet wet with morning dew. As I sat dreamily admiring the beauty before me, Gul nare came and, resting her head upou my shoulder, seemed to share my mood. As I stroked her fine-haired, satin-like nose, recollection quickened and mem ories of our companionship in perils thronged into my mind. I rode again that midnight ride to Knoxville, when Burnside lay intrenched, desperately holding his own, waiting for news from Chattanooga of which I was thebearer, chosen by Grant himself because of tbe reputation of my mare. What riding that was ! We started, ten riders of us in all, each with the same message. I parted company the first hour out with ail save one, an Iron-gray stallion of Messenger blood. Jack Murdock rode him, who learned his horseman ship from buffalo and Indian hunt ing on the Plains, —not a bad school to graduate from. Ten miles out of Knoxville the gray, his flanks dripping with blood, plunged up abreast of tne mare’s shoulders and fell dead ; and Gulnare and I passed through the lines alone. I had ridden the terrible race without whip or spur. With what scenes of blood and fight she would ever be associated! And then I thought of home, unvisited for four long years, that home I left a stripling, but to which I was returning a bronzed and brawny man. I thought of mother and Bob, — how they would admir€> her!—of old Ben, the family groom, and of that one who shall be nameless, whose picture I had so often shown to Gulnare as the likeness of her future mistress ;—had they not all heard of her, my beautiful mare, she who came to me from the smoke and whirlwind, my battle-gift? How they would pat her soft, smooth sides, and tie her mane with ribbons, and feed her with all sweet things from open and caressing palm! And then I thought of one who might come after her to bear her name and repeat at least some portion of her beauty,—a horse honored and renowned the coun try through, because of the transmission of the mother’s fame. “About three o’clock in the afternoon a change came over Gulnare. I had fall en asleep upon the straw, and she had come and awakened me with a touch of her nose. The moment I started up I saw that something was the matter. Her eyes were dull and heavy. Never before had I seen the light go out of them. The rocking of the car as it • went jumping and vibrating along > seemed to irritate her. She began to > rub her head against the ;side of the • car. Touching it, I found that the Bkin [ over the brain was hot as fire. Her' Concerning Widoirs. ■ breathing grew rapidlylouderandloud- • There are widows and widows sar ; er. Each breat b was drawn with a castically remarks the Saturday fievieio. ; m °. f effort. The lids with There are those who are bereaved, and their silken fringe drooped wearily over those who are released ; those who lose the lustreless eyes. Che head sank their support, and those- whose chains lower and lower, until the nose almost are broken; those who are sunk in des touched the floor. The ears, naturally olation, and those who wake up into so lively and erect hunglimpand wide- freedom. Of the first we wiilnotspeak. ly apart. The body was cold and sense- There is a sorrow too sacred to be pub leas. A pinch elicted no motion.—Even licly handled even with sympathy: but my voice was at last undeeded. To the second demands no such respectful word and touch therecame, for the first reticence. The widow who is no sooner time in all our intercourse, no response, released from one husband than she I knew as the symptoms spread what plots for another, and the widow who was the matter. Thesigns bore all odg leaps into liberty over the grave of a way. She was in the first stages of gander, not a lover, are fair game phrenitis, or inflammation of the brain, (enough. They have always beefi fa in other words, my bcaut/jul marr was j vorite subjects for authors to exercise g 0 !! 1 ?—*' it <t . j their wits on ; and while men are what j 1 was well \ersod in the anatomy of, they are —laughing animals apt to see V?.^ orse ; Loving horses from iny very j the humor lying in cougruity, and with i childhood there was littlein veterinary a spice of thedevil to sharpen that same practice with w Inch I was not familiar, j laughter into satire —they will remain i Instinctively, asi soon as thesymptoms ■ favorite subjects, tragic as the state is ! ; bad developed themselves and I saw when widowhood is deeper than mere • : under what frightful dieorder (iulnare ! outward condition, j was laboring, I put my hand iuto iny There are many varieties of the wid j pocket mr my knife, in order to open a ; ow, and all are not beautiful. For oue, vein. 1 here teas no knife there, i there is the widow who is bent on re- Friends, I have met with many sur- j marrying whether men like itor like it prises. More than once in battle and or not—that thing of prey who goes scout have I been nigh death; but about the world seeking whom she may never did my blood dasert my veins devour; that awful creature! who bears and settle so around the heart, never down on her vievims with a vigor in did such a sickening sensation possess her assaults that puts to flight the pop me, as when, standing in that car with ular fancy about the weaker sex and the my beautiful mare before me marked distribution of power. No hawk poised with those horrible symptoms, I made over a brood of hedge birds, no shark that discovery. My knife, my sword, cruised steadily toward a shoal of small ' pistols even, were with my suit in fry, no piratical craft sailing under a the care of my mend, two hundred free flag and accountable to no law save miles away. Hastily, and with trem- success, was ever more formidable to bhng fingers, I searched my clothes,-the he weaker things pursued than Is the lunch-basket, my linen ; not even a pin hawk widow bent on re marrying. She could I find. I shoved open the sliding knows so much : there is not a maucou door, and swung my hat and shouted, vre by which a victory can ho stolen hoping to attract some brakeman s at- | that she has not mastered, and she is! tention. The tram was thundering not ufraid of even the most desperate | along at full speed, and noue saw or measures. Whenshe hasoucestruck, ho i heard me. I knew her stupor wouid would be a edever mau and a bold ouo ! not last long. A slight quivering of w j lo CO uld escape her. Generally left the lip, an occasional spasm running but meagrely provided l'ur in worldlv through the frame, told me too plainly g oods —else her game would not be so that the stage oJggEflzy would soon difficult—she makes up for her poverty begin. My in de- here by her wealth of bold resources, spair, as I shut tmFuoor and turned andby thecourage with which she takes i toward her, must I see you die, Gul- her own fortunes in hand, and, with her nare, when the opening of a vein would own, those of her more eligible maseu save you. Have you borne me, my Hue associates. She is a woman of pur pet, through all these years of peril, pose, and lives for an end ; and that end the icy chill of winter, the heat and is re-marriage. If fate has dealt hardly torment of summer, and all the throng- by her —though, may be, compassion ing dangers of a hundred bloody bat- aiely by her successive spouses—and has ties, only to die torn by fierce agonies, landed her in the widowed state twice when so near a peaceful home? ’ 0 r thrice, she is nowise daunted, and as Lut little time was given me to little abashed. She merely refits after mourn. My life was soon to lie In a certain time of anchorage, and goes peril, and 1 must summon up the ut- out into the open air again for a repeti most power of eye and limb to escape tion of her chance. {She has no notion tlie violence of my frenzied mare. Did o fa perpetuity ofweeds, and thoughsho you ever see a mad horse when his may have cleated her half century with madness is on him . Take your stand a margin besides, thinks the suggestive with me in that car, and you shall see orange-blossoms of the bride infinitely what suffering a dumb creature can more desirable than the fruitless ■ endure before it dies. In no malady heliotropeof the widow. Ifonehusbaml does a horse sutler more than in phre- j d taken, she remembers the old proverb nitis, or inflamation of the brain. Pos* a nd reflects on the many, quite as good, sibly in severe cases of colic, probably who are potentially left subject to her in rabies in its fiercest form, the pain choice. And somehow she manages. It ] is equally intense. These three are hasbeensaidthatany woman can marry the most agonizing of all the diseases any man if she determines to do so, and 1 to which the noblest of animals is ex- follows on the line of her determination posed. Had my pistols been with me, with tenacity and common sense. The I should then and there, with what* hawk widow exemplifies the truth of ever strength Heaven granted, have ta* this saying. She determines upon mar ken my companion’s liie thatshe might nage, and she usually succeeds; the 1 bespared thesufferingwhich was sosoon question being oue of victim only, not < to rack and wring her sensitive frame. 0 f sacrifice. Ono has to fall toiler \ A horse laboring under an attack of share; there is no help for it, and the phrenitis is as violent as a horse can whole contest is, which shall it be? ! be. He is not ferocious as is oue in a which is strongest to break her bonds? i fit of rabies. He may kill his master, which craftiest to slip out of them? ■ but he does it without design. Ihere ] which most resolute not to bear them is in him no desire of mischief for its from lhe beginning? This the strag own sake, no cruel cunning, no strn’a ; giing convey must settle amoug ( gem and malice. A rabid horse is cmu* | themselves the best way they cau. i scious in every act and motion. 3le re- , the hawk pounces down upon its ; cognizes the man he destroys. There quarry, it is sauve qui peut! Put all I ■ is in him an insane desire to hilt. Not J cannot be saved. One has to be caught, \ so with the phrenetic horse. He is uu- ! and the choice is determined partly by | conscious in his violence. He sees and i chance, and partly by relative strength. : recognizes no one. There is no method wheu llle widow of experience and ' or purpose in his madness. He kills < resolve bears down upon her prey, the i without knowing it. result is equally certain. Floundering < “I kuewwhat was coming. I could« 4 avails nothing ; struggling and splosh not jump out, that wquld be certain | are just a g futile; oue among the death. 1 must abide in the car, and ; crowd has to come to the slaughter, and take my chance of life. Thecar was for- to assist at his own immolation. The : tunately high, long, ami roomy. I took , best thing he can do is to makdahand- 1 my position in front of my horse, watch- gome surrender, and to let the world of ful, and ready tospring. Suddenly her , meu antl brothers belive he rather likes • lids, which had been closed, came open with a snap, as if an electric shock had passed through her, and the eyes, wild in their brightness, stared directly at me. And w T hat eyes they were ! The membrane grew red and redder until it was of the color of blood, standing out in frightful contrast with the transpar ency of the cornea. The pupil grad ually dilated uutil it seemed about to burst out of the socket. The nostrils, which had been sunken and motionless, quivered, swelled, aud glowed. The respiration became short, quick, and gasping. The limp aud drooping ears stiffened aud stood erect, pricked sharp ly forward, as if to catch the slightest sound. [Spasms, as the car swerved and vibrated, ran along her frame. More horrid thau all, the lips slowly contract ed, and the white, sharp edged teeth stood uncovered, giving and indescrib able look of ferocity to the partially opened mouth. The car suddenly reeled as it dashed around a curve, awayiug her almgst off her feet, and, as a contortion shook her, she recovered herself, and, rearing upward as high as the car permitted, plunged directly at me. I was expecting the movement, and dodged. Then followed exhibi tions of pain which I pray God I may never see again. Time and again did she dash herself upon the lloor, aud roll over and over, lashing out with her feet iu all directions. Pausing a mo ment, she would stretch her body to its extreme length, and, lying upon her side, pound the floor with her head as if it were a maul. Then like a Hash she would leap to her feet, and whirl rouud and round until fromevery giddi ness she would stagger and fall. She would lay hold of the straw with her teeth, aud shake it as a dog shakes a struegliDg woodchuck ; then dashing it from her mouth, she would seize hold of her own sides, and rend herself. Springing up, she would rush against the end of the car, falling all in a heap from the violence of the concussion. For some fifteen minutes without inter mission the frenzy lasted. I was nearly exhausted. My efforts to avoid her mad rushes, the terrible tension of my nervous system produced by the spec tacle of such exquisite and prolonged suffering, were weakening-m’e beyond what I should have thought it possible an hour before for anything to weaken me. In fact, I felt my strength leaving me. A terror such as I had never yet felt was taking possession of my mind. I sickened at the sight before me, and at the thoughts of agonies yet to come. ‘My God,’ I exclaimed, ‘must I be killed by my own horse in this miser able car!’ Even as I spoke the end came. The mare raised herself until her shoulders touched the roof, then dashed her body upon the lloor with a violence which threatened the stout frame beneath her. I leaned, panting and exhausted, against the side of the cas. Gulnare did not stir. She lay motionless, her breath coming and go ing in lessening respirations. I tot tered toward her, and, as I stood -above her, my ear detected a low gurgling sound. I cannot describe the feeling that followed. Joy and grief contended within me. I knew the meaning of that sound. Gulnare, in her frenzied vio lence, had broken a blood-vessel, aDd was bleeding internally. Pain and life were passing away together. I knelt down by her side. I laid my head upon her shoulders, and sobbed aloud. Her body moved a little beneath me. I crawled forward, and lifted her beauti ful head into my lap. O, for one more sign of recognition before she died! I smoothed the taDgled masses of her mane. I wiped, with a fragment of my coat, torn in the struggle, the blood which oozed from her nostril. I called her by name. My desire was granted. In a moment Gulnare opened her eyes. The redness of frenzy had passed out of them. She saw and recognized me. I spoke again. Her. eye lighted a mo ment with the old and intelligent look of love. Her ear moved. Her nostril quivered slightly as shestrove toneigh. The effort was in vain. Her love was greater than her strength. She moved her head a little, as if she would be nearer me, looked once more with her clear eyes into my face, breathed a long breath, straightened her shapely limbs, and died. And there, holding the head of my dear mare in my lap, while the great warm tears fell one after another down my cheeks, I sat until the sun went down, the shadows darkened in the car, and night drew her mantle, colored like my grief, over the world.” Atlantio Monthly for April. liis position than not. j < But there are pleasanter types of the , ? re-marrying widow than this. There is ; i the widow of the Wadman kind, who i t has outlived her grief and is not disin-! < dined to a repetition of the matrimonial J | experiment, if asked thereto by an ex- j i perimenter after her own heart. But in j i a pretty, tender, womanly way, if not j i quite so timidly as a girl, yet as becom- | J iugly in her degree, aud with that peon- c liar fascination which nothing but the 1 combination of experience ami modesty l cau give. The widow of the Wadman j ' kind is no creature of prey, neither \ 1 shark nor hawk ; at the worst, she is j I but a cooing dove, making just the,; sweetest littlo uoise in the world, the : tenderest little call, to indicate her j . whereabouts, and to show that she is j ] lonely and feels it. She sits close, wait-j : ing to be found, and does not ramp and | i dash about like the hawk sisterhood ; ■ < neither does she pretend that she is un- j i willing to be found, still less deny that a ! : soft, warm nest, well lined and snugly ; sheltered, isbetterthanalonelybranch, : stretched out comfortless and bare into i the bleak, wide world; She, too, is al- : most sure to get what she wants, with , the advantage of being voluntarily i chosen, and not unwillingly submitted ; to. This is the kind of woman who is , always mildly but thoroughly happy in | her married life; unless her husband ; should be a brute, which Heaven fore bid. She lives in peace and bland con tentment while the fates permit, and I when be dies she buries him decently | and laments him decorously ; but she i thinks it folly to spend her life in weep ing by the side of his cold grave, when i her tears can do no good to either of j them. Rather she thinks it a proof of j her love for him, and the evidence of' how true wa3 her happiness, that she j should elect to give him a successor. ; Her blessed experience in the past has , made her trustful in the future; and; because she has found one man taithful j she thinks that all are Abdiels. As a t rule, this type of women does find meu I pleasant, and by herown natureeosures ! domestic happiness. She is always ten- ; derly and never passionately, in love, even with the husband she has loved the best; she gives in to no excesses to the right or left; her temperment is of that serene moonlight kind which does not fatigue others nor wear out its pos sessor; without ambition, or the power to fling herself into aDy absorbing occu pation, she lives only to please and be pleased at home; and if she is not a wife, wearing her light fetter lovingly, and proud that she is fettered, she is noth ing. As some womeu are born mothers and others born nuns, so is the Wadman woman a born wife, and shines in no othercharacter or capacity. But in this she excels, and knowing this, she sticks to her role, how frequent so ever the interlocutor may be changed. Thereare widows, however, who have no thought or desire for remaining any thing but widows—who have gained the worth of the world in their condi tion. “ Jcune, riche , et veuve—quel bonheur! "says tho French wife, eyeing “mow mari " askance. Can the most exacting woman ask for more? And truly such a one is in the enviable position possibly to a woman, supposing always that she has not lost in her hus band the man she loved. If she has lost only the man who sat by right at the same hearth with herself—perhaps the man who quarrelled with her across the ashes —she has lost her burden, and has gained her release The cross of matrimony lies heavy on many a woman who never takes the world into her confidenc, and who bears in absolute silence what she has not the power to cast from her. Perhaps her husband has been a mail of note, a man of learning, of elevated station, apolitical or philanthropic po w • er. She alone knew the fretfulness at home of the man of large repute whom ■ his generation conspired to honor, and • whose poblic life was a mark for the fu • ture to date by. When lie died the press ■ wrote his eulogy and his elegy: but his 1 widow, when she put on her weeds, i sang softly in her own heart a ptean to 5 the great King of Freedom, and whis pered to herself Laudamas, with a sigh ' of unutterable relief. To such a woman I widowhood has no sentimental regrets, i She has come into possession of the 5 goods for which perhaps she sold her : self; she is young enough yet to enjoy, i to protect a future; she has the freechoice l of a maid and the free action of a matron as no othor woman has. She may be > courted, and she need not to be chaper ’ oned, nor yet forced to accept. .Ex perience has mellowed and enriched | her ; for though the asperities of her . former condition were sharp while they lasted, they had not time permanently || to toughen or embitter her. Then the , sense of relief gladdens, while tne sense i of propriety subdues her; and the deli , cate mixture of outside melancholy, tempered with internal warmth, is wonderfully enticing. Few men know how to resist that gentle sadness which , does not preclude thesweetest sympathy with pleasure In which she may' not join—with happiness which is, alas! denied her. It giver an air of such pro found unselfishness; it asks so mutely, so bewitchingly, for consolation. Even a hard mau is moved at the'sight of a pretty widow in the funeral black of her lirst grief, sitting apart with a patient smile, and eyes cast meekly down, as one not of the, world though in It. I Her loss is too recent to admit of any thought of reparation ; and yet what ! mau does not think of that time of i reparation? ami «f she is more than . usually charming iu person, aud well dowered in purse, svhat mau does net think of himself as the best repairer she could take? Then, as the time goes on and she glides gracefully into the era of mitigated grief, how beautl ful is her whole manner, how tasteful her attire! Tbe most exquisite colors of the rampaut kind look garish beside her dainty tints, aud the untempered mirth of happy girls is coarse beside her faint subdued admission of moral sunshine. Greys as tender as a dove’s breast; regal purples whi#lrhavo aglow behind their gloom; stately silks of sombre black, softly veiled by clouds of gauzy white—all speak of passing time, and the gradual blooming of the Spring after the sadness of the Winter; all symbolizathe flowers which are grow ing ever on the sod that covers the dear j departed ; all hint at the melting of the ! funeral gloom into a possible bridal, j iSho begins, too, to take pleasure in the , old familiar things of life. She steals ; into a quiet back seat at the opera ; she just walks through aqu&drille ; she sees uo harm iu a fete or flower-show, if pro perly companioned. Winter does not last forever, and a life-long rdourningis a wearisome prospect, ao she goes through her degrees iu accurate order, and comes out at the end radiant. For when the faintshadowscastby the era cf mitigated grief fade away, she is the . widow } )ar excellence —the blooming widow, young, rich, gay and free; with the world on her side, her fortune in her hand, and the ball at her feet. She is the freest woman alive; freer even than any old maid to be found. Freedom, indeed, comes, to the old inn id when too late to enjoy it; at least in certain directions; for while she is young she is necessarily in bondage, and when parents and guardians leave her at lib berty, the world and Mrs. Grundy take up the reins, and hold them pret ty tight. Hut the widow is as thor oughly emancipated from the conven tional bonds which confine the free action of a maid as she is from those which fetter the wife, and only she herself knows what she has lost and gained. .She bore her yoke while it pressed on her. It galled her, but she did not wince; only when it was re moved did she become fully conscious how great had been the burden, from her sense of infinite relief. The world never knew that she had passed under the harrow ; probably it wonders at her cheerfulness, with the dear departed scarce two years dead; and some say how sweetly resigued she is, and others how unfeeling. She is neither. She is simply freo after having lived in bond age, and she is glad in consequence. Hut she is dangerous. In fact, she is the most dangerous of all women to men’s peace of mind. She does not waut to marry again—does not mean to marry again for many years to come, if ever; granted; but that does not say that she is indifferent to admiration or careless ot man’s society. And being without serious intentions • herself, she docs not reflect that ; she may possibly mislead and deceive ( others wjio have no such cause as she has for bewaring of the preseut folly. In the exercise of her prerogative as a free woman, able to cultivate the dearest friendships with men and fearlessly using her power, she entangles many a poor fellow's heart which she never wished to engage than platonically, and 1 crushes hopes which she had not the slightest intention to raise. Why can not men be her friends ? she asks ; with a pretty, pleading look—a tender kind of despair at the wrougheadedness of the stronger sex. Hut, teuder as she is, she docs not easily yield even when she loves. The freedom she has gone through so much to gain she does ,not rashly throw away ; and if ever the day comes when she gives it up into the keeping of another—and for all her pro- 1 testations it comes sometimes—the man to whom she succumbs may congratu- ’ late himself on a victory more flattering 1 to his vanity, and more complete in its surrender of advantages, than he could have gained over any other woman. Belle or heiress, of higher rank or of greater fame than himself, no unmar ried woman could have made such a sacrifice iu her marriage as did this wid ow of means aud good looks, when she laid her freedom, her joyous present aud a potential future in njs hand. He will be lucky if he manages so well that he is never reproaced, for that sacrifice—if his wife never looks backs regretfully to the time wliem she was a widow, and if ! there was no longing glances forward to \ the possibilities ahead, mingled with . sighs at the difficulty of retracing a step ■ when fairly made. On the whole, if a ] woman can live without love, or with ; nothing stronger than a tender senti mental friendship, widowhood is the most blissful state she can attain. But | if she is of a loving nature, atyWipnd of | home, finding her own happiness in the I happiness of others, and indifferent to freedom—thinging, indeed, feminine j freedom only another word for desola i lion—she will be miserable until she j has doubled her experience, and carried ■ on the old into the new. Robins Indispensable to the Farmer. lIY THOMAS M. 15UEWK1: The mischief which birds do is often of daily occurrence, is open, palpable, and not to be gainsaid. And yet these very birds are often really our greatest benefactors. Let us take up first for our consideration the robin. Where will you find, hereabouts, one more com plained of, more generally denounced than he? Is he not, by common con sent, pronounced by most of our fruit growers the pest of horticulturist? Does he not steal our cherries, plunder our strawberries, strip our currant bush es, pilfer our raspberries, help himself to our choicest grapes, and, if we have some rare Shepardia berries, will not the glutton take the whole? And does he not, some one else will add, attack and spoil our handsomest pears? In re ply to the Jastcharge we cannot respond atlirmatively. We do not believe it, and if it were true, we would say to who ever made this charge: “My dear, sir, it only serves you right. You should not leave summer pears on the tree long enough to become so soft as to tempt a bird to peck at them. Y'our fruitshould have been gathered when so hard that no bird coukl molest it, and thus you would have saved your pears and im proved their quality !" But we are get ting off our track, and will return to the Robin. With the exception of the pear-accu sation, which we believe to be bosh, we admit the truth of all these charges,— but what then ? What do they prove? Simply that the worst traits in the char acter of the Robin are those which, un fortunately for his reputation, are the most apparent, and which are brought home to the notice of ail who have fruit to be plundered, while his beneficial deeds escape the general observation. The Robin is eminently one of those who delight in doing good by stealth, but alas! he is very rarely put to thp blush by finding it fame. The world, as a general thing, is but too prompt to recognize the mischief he does, but knows little or nothing of his good deeds, far overbalancing ills faults. Fortunately for the reputation of the Robin, careful and faithful friends have looked into his recoid, and the result of their investigations proves him to be an invaluable friend to the farmer, and demonstrate by indisputable evidence, that his services are of an indispensa ble importance. Nearly eleven years since, the very same gentleman who this last summer signalized his imper fect knowledge of birds by protesting against the European Sparrow’s coming to Boston, because it was not an insect eater, at a meeting of the Massachusetts Horticultural Society introduced a mo tion in favor of the presentation of a petition to the State Legislature, in the NUMBER 14 • name of the Society, praying for the repeal of ail legislation for the* protec tion of the Robin. After an aul mated discussion, in which it was i shown that the Robin was not even then without strong friends, ■ the Society, instead of adopting the mo tion, very wisely voted to look into the matter before they thus committed themselves, and referred the whole sub ject of the habits of the Robin to a select committee, who wore desired to make a very thorough investigation, fortu nately at the head of this committee was placed J. W. B- Jenks, Rs»j.. of Mldcueboro’, an ardent and zealous friend of the bird. He entered upon lus duties with an alacrity aud an interest, and completed them with a fidelity mi a thoroughness that rellect upon him the highest credit. The leisure hours of an entire year were devoted by this gentle man to a careful and minute investiga tion of the subject committed to Ins charge. Day by Jay aud at all lpnirsof luo day, he procured specimens ot the birds for the purpose of carefully examining the contents of their several stomkclis, for evidences of the general character of their food. Robins were thus ob tained by him, both from the villages and from tho more rural districts, apart from gardens and orchards. Begiuuiug with the lirst week in March, l.v>S, these examinations were continued, with more or less frequency, until the same month of the succeeding year. Confining ourselves here to such por tions of the results as may have a direct bearing upon the points we seek to cs tablish, we find that Professor Jenks has demonstrated, among other things, that during the whole of March, April, and May not a particle of vegetuble I matter of any kind whatever could be I found iu the food of the robins. Insects, in large quantities, varying greatly a*, to kind, condition, ami development, were during all these months their sole • and exclusive food. The iarv:e oi a [ species of ily known to naturalists as Jiibio albipamis of tfay, formed a large j proportion of the contents of their stom achs. Not unfrequeutly as many as two 1 hundred of these insects, in this stuge ot development, were taken from a single , bird, and for the most part whenever any were found they were tho only fond j in thebird’astomaeh.— AtlanticMnn/hfj/ I for April. j Oysters. In ISSS or IS.VJ, Professor L'osto discov ered a fact which Settled a long-mooted point in natural history, that the ovater in common with many of tho lower or der of ocephala, is hermaphrodite, com bining both sexes in the same individ ual. Betting himself Ao the work of studying its peculiarities, he was soon enabled to prepare an elaborate treatise on the subject of tho generation of tho oyster, of which tho following is the substance: “Possibly tho second, hut certainly the third year, the oyster reproduces its kind. During the Bummer, at seasons varying with locality aud temperature, from April to July, many hundred thousand ova are simultaneously pro duced in capsules provided for them. — These ova are fecundated at an early period of their growth, long before their increase of size and weight causes them to burst the ovarian capsules, and com mence their existence in tho milky fluid which is prepared for them at this time. The ova are especially enveloped and protected by tho branchial folds of the mother oyster, ily an admirable provision of nature this milky fluid now begins to dry up and thicken, forming a paste which deposits upon the ova exactly what ie necessary to form a del icate shell in a few hours when brought into contact with the salt water by ex pulsion from the shell of tho parent •oyster. No sooner however, is one brood thus sent out into the world of waters to shift for itself, than this pro cess is immediately repeated, and it is known an adult oyster produces between two and three million of young daring a season.” Not more than oue teath of these, however, are permitted to .attain full size, owing to the great number of enemies that feast upon th« young oyster during the flrst year, and the numerous chances against its living through the second, when it is tolerably safe. Thespawn expelled from the par ent oyster forms a grayish cloud, which is soon dispersed by the motion of the water and by individual action—as the young wait only for the needed strength to swim away and find their own sus tenance. They are provided with a special locomotive apparatus, which is at the same time an organ of respiration, and perhaps of heading aud of vision, and by means of >ynich they work their way to some hard solid body likea stone, shell, or branch, to which they attach themselves for life. Iu his Havrchc* sur la generation dczhuitrcs'XL. Dayaiue says: “Nothing is more curious and interesting than to see under the-micro scope these little mollusks travel round the portion of a drop of water, which contains them in vast numbers, mutu ally avoiding one another, crossing eacli other's track iu every direction with a wonderful rapidity, never touching and never meeting.” This curious motive power consists of a number of hair-liko filaments called cilia, which take their rise in a dark colored fleshy mass, that emerges from and overlaps the valves of the oyster on the edge opposite to ami farthest from the hinge, and operated by powerful muscles, can beat pleasure drawn pH tirely within the valves. If the young wanderer meets with any hard sub stance, it clings to it, and in a few , hours—as it is at this time making its shell —a calcareousdeposit fixes it there, and in due course ol time the cilia drop fdT. If no such suitable object presents itself, these wanderiDgsmustsooncome to an end. After a while the cilia are detached from the oyster, which at once sinks, being incapable of further motion, while the cilia keep on swim ming until their life is exhausted. Now the oyster begins to live in earnest. Lips to seize its food, ami a stomach to digest it, are developed ; hrua<-h'i<<\ or respiratory organs, appear ; the heart beg'na to beat, and all the functions necessary for existence are act in motion in good working order. If properly placed for obtaining infusorial uuil vege table nourishment, in three or four years the embryo oyster will become a delicate mouthful for the epicure. There are three of tho oyster’s many euemies specially feared by planters in American waters. These are the Star fish, the Drill, and the Winkles/ It has been and is still generally supposed, even by oystermen and writers upon the oyster, who should know belter, that the starfish introduces its taper fingers between the valves, aud in some mys terious manner .skills and devours its victim. This is an erroneous impres sion. The starfish can only injure an oyster bearing a certain relation in size to itself. Its moutli is extensible, and situated in the middle of the under side of its body. If the oyster to be edten is a small one, the starfish floats over ib, settles upon it, aud swallows it, shell and all; the body is digested and the shell rejected. Butlf the oyster is large, the liuugry fellow turns himself iDside out, envelops his victim, and absorbs the dainty flesh, resuming his proper shape when he lias finished. Agas siz, in speaking of this strange power of the starfish, says: “These ani mals have a singular mode of eatirrg. They place themselves over whatever they mean to feed upon, the back grad ually rising as they arch themselves above it. They then turn the digestive sac or stomach inside out, so us to inclose their prey completely, and proceed leisurely to suck out the animal from its shell.” The stomach is then turoed back again, and the starfish, always hungry, seeks another oyster with which to appease for the time lus insati able appetite. The drill is asmall .shell fish of a conical shape, provided with a broad, flat, fleshy foot with which it clings to the oyster; and by means of its rough, file-like tongue, which it moves backward and for wan! over the eye ol the oyster, drills a round hole through the shell aud sucks out tiie contents at its leisure. A certain kind of drill (the Bigorneau) forms a considerable item of cheap food for the Drench peasants,who boil it and pick the meat out with a needle. The winkles are a much larger species of the same tribe, and destroy the oyster in the same manner as the drill; but, beiDg less numerous, they do not cause so much damage. The new collector of customs at New York received 13,191 applications for ollice on Thursday last. The Americas (Ga.) Republican of March 22d states that between §30,000 and fDU.QOU have been subscribed at that place for a cot ton factory, but tho directors are anxious that it should reach §150,000. Tho Jtejntb - Zicrrn thinks the money can he easily raised. BATE OF ADVERTISING. Business ApvimTiflKinarra, 912 a year p*r 3oara of ten lines; ftt per year for each ad- Itlon&l square. lical Estate advertising, lOoenia a fine for tbefirst, and Soenta for each aobseqoent In sertion. G*i»bralj Advertising 7 cents a line for the Arm, and 4 ceDts Tor each tmb>equeot inser tion. Special Notices Inserted In lx>oal Column IS cents per line. Special Notices prooWlng marriage, ana deaths, 10 cents per line for first tnsertlou and 5 cents for every subsequent insertion i Legal and other notices— Executors’ Aoo Administrators' notices •*•••••. 2*60 Assignees’ notices .. 2.60 Auditors’ notices, „ 2.W Other "Notices," ten lines, or loss, Z three times, - 1.50 News Items. Gen. Sherldun has assumed command In Missouri. Mobile Is lust talking of starling » veloci pede school. Mawnchuseiti ha* a population of Kilo Indians. Lucille Western in delighting the Mor mons at Salt Lake. A population of fifty thousand hss he,mi discovered In Alaska. Ex-President Pierce has recovered aui tlcienlly to visit Boston. Green peas have intnlo ihcir appearance in Savannah. I’orgh is to lecture Boston about “cruelly to animals." There nro said to be over IfihiH) I-Veonm sous in Georgia. Gold lias been discovered in Texas in tho vicinity ot HI Paso. A young lady of Mobile in to nmrrv n baron in Purls and a fortune of sd,t!i>o,iii':o. Gold has beeu found in diguing u well in Bureau (bounty, llhnois. In the Maine Slate prison oucliYonvict Is given $7 worth of Hollies a year. Immense quantifies of snow have ivri-nl ly fallen ail over the south of Europe. The Mutual Base Bail Club of New York pays iu " catcher" $l,OOO per annum. Wheat looks lino in Southern Itullannu, nml tho fruit prospect Is promising. Tho Chicago Eire Department en.si S2SO,- ‘.'oo last your ; tho police s32B,fits*. President Grant, it is said, will \ imi bong Brand) this summer. The lato Jamas Guthrie, ol keniin-l,\, left an estate of sl,U<)i),(i(>ii. .A Lynchburg paper rejoices at having u "nimlwin' in our midst." Tho latest about Bismarck is that ho still wears a bullet proof vest. There is a large emigration reported from Canada to the United States. Noal Dow is recommended by tin* Maine Congressmen Ibr a foreign mission. Tlu-v grow' sixty flourishing orange trees on an acre ofland m Southern California. The Deseret AVu .i tells of a snow plow on the Central Pacific railroad propelled by eight locomotives. The PresidtMit has ordered the discharge of 77U soldiers employed at arsenals in vu« riotis pm is of the country. Captain Amos If. Evans, an i‘X-memhev of tin* Ninth New Jersey regiment, is an Arkansas State Senator. The daily business of lliogsmbling place in Helena, Montana, averages $270,000 In gold dust and greenbacks. UrtihoatU from Boston to Huntsville, Ala., have agreed to pass emigrants at -1 cents per mile. Tho friends of the late Dean Richmond propose to invest $25,000 iu granite and iinarbie to his memory. • At a recent evening church-service in Boston, Whittier's Jim was read at the conclusion of the ser^non. All the breaks on the Delaware ami Hud son Railroad and Catml have been repaired, and the whole lino is again open. Philadelphia is sending üboul three thou sand barrels of whiskey to Now York weekly. Tho Students at Yale College have passed resolutions promising to abandon “ haz ing" and “ rushing." A Velocipede with wlieols eight feet iu diameter h«s made its appearance on the streets of Indlamipolls. Tho forty thousand miles of railroad in tho lTilted States give employment to four hundred and fifty thousand inn). Delmonicn pays Moses H. Grinned $27,000 a year rent for his fifth Avonuu Mansion iu New York. Tho President made but one nomination yesterday, that of Gen. Clias. H. Hamilton, to bo C. S. Marshal for Wisconsin. Tho Board of Trade of Ottawa, Canada, passed resolutions yesterday in fuvor of re ciprocity with tho l inited States. Uov. George Jacobs, lato of Richmond, Vu., has boon installed to tho ministry of tho Franklin street Synagogue in Philadel phia. In lHpl, Professor Drake published flic first book over printed in Ohio. Its title was, “ A Compendious System of Geogra phy." A Wisconsin* Legislative tfoniinittco has reported unanimously Iu favor of tho re enactment of tho .death penalty for mur der. A million dollars in gold was received in Now York from Hamburg last woek, to be used in buying bonds for Gormun capital. iais. Ex-President Johnson wdl have Ihn pleasure of reading an obituary notion ot himself, of a column in length, iu tho Chi cago TYi'J/iiho. A watchmaker in Rochester, N. Y., has just bnished a watch movement which will run eight days without winding. 'lt has two main springs. Heavy shipments of horses, mules and sheep continue to be made Iroui tho Ohio River towns to restock the farms <*f tin. South. Two of tho Peytons, brothers to tho Pey tons who run the great White Sulphur, Vir ginia, havo leased tho Rockbridge Bullc-, arid will open them in stylo in May. Governor Bullock of Georgia, is now In Washington. It is said thnt he was a com positor in the Herald olliee at Clioii, N. A ~ a few years ugo. There is a movement iu Illinois m favor of removing tho State capital from Spring field to Nauyoo, tho homo of the Mormons In their early years. Wood is so Hcurco In France that they muvh their sawdust, mix it with gluo and press it in moulds, making, it is suid, verv good imitations of carved wood. One thousand mules are being purchased in Jersey eouuty, 11i.,for Gon. Wmlo I Bunn ton, ofSouth Carolina, and Col. W. C, Pur terson, of Tennessee. Among the Incomes reported in Brooklyn, N. V., uro the following: lionrv Ward Beecher, $21,177; J. W. Harper,'*.>,7l snd H. B. Ciaflir, $.'170,000. A Northern gentleman who’has lately settled near Petersburg, Vlrginfa, intends to plant this year twohuudred acres ofluiul in sorghum, and will manufacture sugar.’. The New York Courts havo docided in favor of Barnum and Van Amburgh in a suit brought to recover $120,000 insurance upon their museum aud menagerie prop erty. Three disguised rullluns visited tho house of a Mr. French, at Richmond, Ind., a few days ugo, and,after binding him and threat ening to shoot his family, mude oil' with $-1,000 In specie and $7,710 in greenbacks. Tho Vicksburg Herald panthers, wild cals and foxes are becoming plentiful iu that (Warren) county. 'the country Is thinly settled, and the many pneks of dogs which used to choso them before the war havo disappeared and gone. Nlnte items. A man, whoso nmnl is not given, wus killed on last Saturday evening, on the Pan Handle railroad, near Mansfield, a few miles west of Pittsburg. A boy named Gabriel Brlsher and a hojsc* which he drove iuto tho Allegheny river ut Pittsburg to water, were drowned on last Saturduy evening. A negro named Aaron Ross fell down tho hatchway iu the houso of Zellers A Duir, Pittsburg, on Saturday last, anti wu instantly kdletl. A boss of the laborers at the furnace of Jones A Laughlln, on the Connelsvillo railroad, named John Bready, was killed on Friday evening last by being knockc-u down and run over by a train of freight cars. llenry Murty, a deck hand on board ' steamboats belonging to Pittsburg many [.years ago. ami more recently employed on | nisi. Louis aud Now Orleans packet bout, j lately fell heir to about half u million of < dollars left by a distant relative who died ! some two years ago in. St. Louis. J A dispatch received ut Columbia states that seven men went out on Swatara Creek 1 at Middletown, yesterday afternoon to take ! a sail. When out some distance, the boat sprung a leak and commenced to fill with water, when a man named Zimmerraau 1 jumped out and attempted to swim ashore, ' but the water being 100 high nnd current ( very strong, he wasdrowned. When Z.iui ‘ merman jumped out the boat capslml, ami ' B. C. Frullch, formerly a clerk in the dry | goods establishment of H. (J. Fondersinith, in Columbia, who could not swim, went j under and also drowned. Tho other live ' men held on to the boat until assistance ar - j rived. Both bodies were recovered. A Virginia Couple Dotfrnilii'(l to «ei married. ()q Monday morning a party <>f four ar | rived here in a two-horse carriage, after a i drive of sixty miles, from .Stafford county, , Vn., where, for want of properly qualified oHicers, marriages are not possible just i now. Going to the City Hull a marnuge | license was procured for two of the party, ! Mr. James Pearson and Mlhh Annette I iHvis, nnd tho vehicle drove up to the door of the hardware aloro of Meador A Co , op ' posite tlioMelropolitan Hotol, when inquiry was made lor the senior member of the ; firm, who is tho pastor of tho Island JSuptist Church. This gentleman promptly un • swe red the call, but suggested that the store 1 wuh hardly the place for tho perlormnneo of i the marriage ceremony, and Invited them to drive to his residence. The party, after consultation,deoliaed, saying that thoy had I about sixty miles to go, and ns tho weather i was threatening thoy desired that tho knot ■ be speedily tied. Accordingly the party entered the store and took their places, when, with the clerks and customers as witnesses, thotwnin were made one, and drove off for their Virginia borne, well satisfied with the result of their visit to tho metropolis,— Washington Star.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers