g;rii ali i wine. Your hives are fuil of bunny " Tito shade fell deeper on Helen's face. " I urn pained at this," said the friend.— 41 Your let it-is have not betrayed the existence ci a secret trouble." " I was guarded." 41 Guarded I" 41 You kt.'jw," answered Helen, rallying herself, and affecting a lighter state of uiitid, 44 that every house has its skeleton 44 11 ■.l or imaginary Most ol these skele tons are but shadows." 44 Mine is real." Tfie two friends met now for the first time in tea vcurs, looked at each other iu a stranje \v:iy. The lightness of tone had died out in the sentence —"Mine is real." 44 Tiie best of husbands, good children at home like this ! \N here s'unds the skeleton ? 1 can see no place for so unseemly au in t ni ieiv' 44 And yet, Margaret, the intruder is here, grinning at tne ail the while, aud growing more and more ghastly." " Dear friend, how you afil ct me !' Helen Ashby's face bad become pale in this reference to a hidden sorrow which had nev er found voice ho fore. 44 lr almost kiiis uie to say.it, Margaret ; Lot—" M s Ashby checked the sentence ere it lound utterance. 4t But what ? Trust me Helen. GOD gives wi.-dctu to love. Through my love He may tend healing to your soul. Let me look down into tins haunted heart chamber ; let me see the ugly skeleton !" " 1 am not lovtd as 1 once was, Margaret!" There was a cold shiver iu Mrs. Ashby's voice. " Not so loved, Helen !" " Not loved by my husband." Tears fell silon'ly over Mrs Ashby's face. 44 You are under a dark delusion. ' " No. Love has been steadily failing for several years—slowly, almost imperceptibly, but surely. 1 shudder at t lie contrast when 1 measure its height and depth, its length and breahth today, and then think how immeas urable it seemed ten years ago !" 44 I am pained beyond expression, dear friend ! Surely you are iu a dream ! My brief observatiou of your husband, since I came, reveals nothing like coldness or aliena tion. lie i> kind, gentle and tranquil. A- I watched his countenance last utght, while he talked, and dwelt on the sentiment's that fell from his lips I could not help saying, " he is fas' growing to the stature of a man—that is, of an angel !" This could not lie, if he were getting cold toward the wife of his bosom." " Oh, he is good, and tine, and excellent 1" answered Mrs. Ashby. 44 A purer,better man es not live. 1 reverence, 1 idolize him ! He stands in my sight the embodiment of hu man perfection ? But all the while lam cou motis of an increasing distance between us -• are not so close together as we were one, b*o, three,four or five years ago My friend fiiis is terrible ! Is it to go on—this widen big of the space between us until he vanish es out of sight, and I am left shivering alone in a universe of darkuess ? Give me aunihi lation rather !" litis was the skeleton in Mrs. Ashby's house; to phantom of the imagination, but a real Si-T ton. Tiie fnend sat long before replying. " but Helen now said brought into light B ' 4: 'ie tilings casually noted since her arrival Bome Holms which had been felt as iulmnno "toijs. Let us briefly refer to them: Au awk ward or contusu! servaut spilled some water 1 'be lea tattle at tea time, iu tilling a glass. His Ashby, instead of passing the incident Without notice, reproved her sharply. Mr. Ashby was taikiug at the time, but resumed :tJ a few minutes. The most ordinary observ er would have preceived a change of tone, marked by a certain depression of feeling.— Soon after the conversation was resumed, Mr. Ash by referred to a lady acquaintance, and spoke of her as au accomplished singer, when his wife threw iu some remark disparaging to her as a woman. To these Mr. Ashby offered a few mildly spoken excuses ; but his wife | tore them away with an unseemly asperity of i munuer, that, say the least, was uubeautiful. I Her husband changed the subject. Again he mentioned with praise a lady friend; and again ! Mrs. Ashby came in with a " but" and "if," veiling the good and exposing the detects of her character. Two or three times during the meal Mrs. Ashby spoke impatiently to the 1 children, and with a quality of tone that left on the ear an uupleasaut impression. 1 The friend now recalled these little inhar monious incidents. They gave her glimmers 1 of light. 1 " Love is never constrained," she said,after a long pause. Mrs Ashby sighed deeply. " True love is of the soul. Why do you ! love your husband ?" " Because," answered Mrs. Ashby, " he is, ' in my eyes, the embodiment of all manly per ! fections. He is just, pure truthful, full of geu -1 tleness and goodness.' ! " Aud if such be his qualities, Helen can he love iu a wife anything that is not pure aud gentle, truthful and good ? Hive you ever asked yourself a que-tiori like this ?" M:s. Ashby's form was lifted to a sudden erectuess. Her brow contracted slightly; her ' eyes lost something of their softened expres sion ; her lips grew firm. " Forgive rue, Helen, if I hurt or offended. I love you too well to give you fruitless pain," said the friend. " 1 was only trying to lead your !n, , 'h t s inward. If, as you seem to fear, your husband is receding from you, it must be in consequence of inharmonious states | of mind—of dissimilarities, or antagonisms.— There must be affinities, or there can be no conjunction. Our souls must be beautiful, if would be truly loved. Have you ever pan dered these things ? If not, the time bus : come when you shold, in nil faithfulness aud ail serii.u-ness, do so. If your husband be indeed advancing to wards ail true manly excellarice, be growing : spiritual in ?duure, vvi.l he not, unless you aiso | advance aud grow toward womanly excellarice ' aud perf-c it n nle .e from you—get so fur ; beyond as to be out of sight / Are not spir ! itua! laws as unfailing as natural laws ? ' 1 Mrs. Ashby's face had already lost its gath ! ering sternness. IL r friend paused. | " Why have you said this to me ?"' " Because I love you ; Helen, and desire i vour happiness." Mrs. A-hby sighed deeply, dropped her gaze, and sat looking inward for a long time, i'lten she sighed again, and looked up into the ! face of her friend." " What have you seen, Margaret ? Deal with me honestly, as a friend." " A temper and disposition which your bus I band cannot approve." " Margaret " You have a.-ked me to deal honestly, as i with a friend. Shall Igoon !" J " Yes, yes ; speak o' all that is iu your i mind." j " Your husband is gentle and considerate, i reudv to excuse faults, tree from hardness and : burliness. i " None more so." " 1 saw that ycur impatient words, when ! a servant spilled water on the table last even ing, jarred bis feelings. He was talking cheer ' fully at the time ; but the change in It's tone j thai followed showed a depressed state. It was plain to me that you hurt him by your sharp reproof, more than you hurt the servant. Iheu 1 noticed that as often as he spoke iu | favor of a certain person, you placed evil | against their good, and not in the most amia ! Ide spirit. Once or twice he tried to defend j the good, aud then you set yourself against , him with a ,egree of asperity that must have I produ ed in his mind a sense of pain. He | did not contend ; though, J tear had he done i so, you would have been ready for a shary conflict. Before tea was ended, your bus band, who conversed at the beginning in an easy, cheerful way, was sitting almost silent. Evidently you had reacted upon him in a muu nea to depress his feelings. 1 did not compre hend this at the time, but it is plaiu enough now." " I think, Margaret," said Mrs. Ashby, as her friend ceased, " thai you hud on magriify ! ing glasses la>t evening. A stranger listeuing ■ to your speech, wouid set me down as ill ua j tured, if not quarelsome. Henry would smile to hear you. lam not j perfect, I know, and my husband understands this, and makes all due allowauee for iufirmi -1 ties of temper. " Can he in spirit, Helen, conjoin himself ' to these or any other iufirmaties ? Does their indulgence dr.iw him nearer or away from you. Can he love them ?" Mrs. Ashby's countenance changed, she did not reply. " Would he choose to live forever conjoin ed to a disturbing and iuhartnoueous spirit?— No matter how feeble the disturbing or slight the lack of harmony, if conjunction must be i eternal, would not conjunction be avoided as j a calamity ? We cannot bind the soul, my ; friend by any laws but its own. Love is drawn by likeness of quality. Your hearts must so beat that the flow of life is reciprocal, and the pulse moves iu nnitv.—You must be ! coine like htm, or he must become like you.— Iu which contingency lies the surer hope ? Answer to jour own soul mv friend, ll fie is receeding from you, getting ul! the while to a farther distance, who is it ? What Joes it mean ? is he rising or decending ? Growing | better or worse ? Which is it, Helen ? "He is rising He is growing better." " And yet receding 1" " 1 have felt it for a long time, Margaret." " Then girl your loins—bind sandals to your feet—up, my friend and press onward in the way you see him going, aud draw once more j close to his side. As you love birn with a pure heart.tenderlv seek for the graee of spirit. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TO WANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. GOODRICH. for the quality of soul he loves. Cultivate all heavenly affections. Be geutle, kiud, consid erate, loving—in a word, seek all the Chris tian graces—and there will be 110 happiar wife in all the land. With such a husband as yours—and I will take your own portraiture —what can stand in the way of all felicities but an undisciplined will ?" " If he will only love au angel, there is no hope for me," replied Mrs. Aabby. " I am but a woman iniirm of will, stumbling along darkly in my path of life. Oh, Margaret 1 you are giving me light only to show me the hopelessness of my case." " Mot so," replied the friend. " Your hus band is not very far from you. If I were talk ing with his owu state, he would use language (piite as strong as yours. The infirm will, the darkened way, the stumbling feet—they are his, as well as yours and mine. Tbose who are in advuuce of us do not walk as serenely as wo think. There are always dificulties in the way, and the further advance we make, while in this would, the more of them we shall find ; but for these a higher strength, with patience and humility, are given. Begin by shunning such things as, in light of reason and GOD'S Word, you kuow to be wrong. Lay a tranquil baud on your temper, and hold back from utterance all harsh words that can do no good, llave charity for the weakness, the infirmities and short comings of others ; and if you cannot speak approviugly, say no ill.— So shall you move onward in the way your be loved is going; so shall his soul reflect your soul, and the unity of life be attained which of two, one forever." " And you think there is hope for me, Mar ret— hope lor winning back that love that .-eeuis vanishing '{" said Mrs. Ashby. 44 I see tiie way it has gone, as my eyes follow your I ointiiig finger." " I'lie lovely are beloved, Helen." " 1 must become lovelier then 1" 44 In spirit, for love is of the spirit. If you indulge in passion, iil -nature, envies,evil speak ing and uncharitableuess, can one who is try- i ing to put these unclean things out of his heart—who turns from them as foul and hate ful—draw closer to you, and take you as the embodiment of all perfection into Ins soul ? it is simply impossible, Helen. The good c :iinot love. us, unless we are beautiful in spir it. To ask their: to do -j is to require an im possibility " More than a minute passed.— Then lilting her eyes from the floor, where they Imd been resting, Mrs. Ashby said : 44 Whereas I was blind, now I sec. Oa, my friend, von have come as au angel to lead me out of the wilderness into a plain way. If my husband is advancing while I stand still, what wonder is it that lie itceus ? If I do not wa k by his side as he ascends the mount ain of spiritual perfection, the necessity that divides us is of my own creation. As you have urged, my friend, so will I do—gird up my loins, bind sandals to my feet, and press onward iu the way he is going." 14 And sooner than yau think for, Helen,' was answered, 14 will you be at his side ? He is not very far iu advance. The road to per fection of life is never passed over with tapid feet. Slow ly the steps are taken. Your bus barm loves you,but he connot love in you what is unlovely. Put away all the uubeautiful things that veil yourattractions. Be in his eyes geutle, loving,cnaritable and kind. Be more ready to see as tie sees titan lindgrouud of difference. It you do not see in the light of Ids understand ing, wait and reflect, but do not argue and oppose. To be truly united, as to tire spirit, is to be one in affection aud thought. If there is no harmony in your thojghts, the Closer you draw together the more you will disturb each otlii r. But why should 1 say more? Tour eyes are open and you see. The way is plain, walk iu it, and find peace and joy.— You have a true man for a husband ; be to l.iui a true wife, anil happiness beyond anything conceiv able now shall be yours in the age of eter nity." AFTER THE BATTLE—A SCENE.—A correspon dent, writing from the scene of the recent bat tle of 44 Slaughter Mountain " —a hill farm of a Preshyteriuu Minister—gives the following incidents : All our dead, so far as I saw or heard had been plundered of their money, arms, and iu some cases, of their clothing. I think that we have had cue hundred and fifty dead. I found them grouped in the edges of all the woods, in one case, twenty-two together. Several of these appeared to be killed by fragments of shells and one man's head was missing. In curious juxtaposition to these ghastly objects, I saw an old fashioned plow that had beeu struck by solid shot and broken in half. War has leveled the earliest and last indication of industry. By the kindness of the Rebel cav alry, Geu Stewart, to whom I shall presently reler, I was allowed to ride with Lieuteuaut .Johnson across the rebel lines, aud examine the enemy's dead. As most of these had bem buried, I could not tell with certainty the rebel loss, but it could scarcely have beeu less than ours. Eight North Carolinians in a row by a fragment of fence—stout, stalworth rustic iu homespun clothes, who had perhaps been drag ged as conscripts from their homes to perish in an unholy cause. A few of our grave diggers had mingled with rebel grave diggers,and both suspended their functions to hold an argument. The Lieutenant ordered the Federals into their own lines, and prevented, it may be, a miniature battle among the disputants. 1 must say for my conductor that he had a frank face and a fair manner, a goodly mingl ing of the polite citizen with stem soldier We rode into a piece of woods not half a mile from Slaughter Mouutain, and beheld the spot where Union and Rebel had tugged and tusseled face to face, parrying and thrusting with cold steel. Some of the rebem seemed to have edged over to our d ies, and fell among our mcD, while some of the Unionists were quite turn ed round und lay iu a bevy ou their enemies. BS- A Scolding Mother makes a miserable household. 44 REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." The Plan of Negro Colouizatin in Cen tral America, Commissioner Pomeroy's Address to the Coiered People. WASHINGTON, August 25,1802. Senator S. C Pomeroy has, by request of tho President conseuted to organize emigra tion parties of free colored persous for settle ment iu Central America, and been commis sioned accordingly. This gentleman's former success, iu organizing emigrant expeditions for the settlement ot Kausas and Colorado affords a guarautee of hispreseut plaus. The govern ment proposes to send out the emigrants in good steamships and provide them with all the necessary >iniplemeuts of labor and ulso sustenance until they can gather a harvest. The following address, prepared by Senator Pomeroy, has been sanctioned by the Presi dent : To THE FREE COLORED PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES : The hour has now arrived in the history of your settlement upon this coutient wheu it is within your power to take oue step that will secure, if successful, the elevation, freedom and social position of your race upon the American coutiueut. Tho President of the United States has already signified his desire to carry out fully, iu the letter and spirit of the late act of Congress, the desire of the na tional legislature, which made an appropria tion to facilitate your emigration aud settle went in some favorable locality outside of these States ; and at bis request I have con sented aud agreed with lit a to aid you iu organizing this emigration and iu selecting a locality that rill be valuable and attractive to your people iu itself,as well as give the promise to you and to us that it shall be a suitable lo cation for a great, free and prosperous people. I now address you as oue awake to the mornen tous revelation in American history,alive also to your interest in this conflict of arms, where by you are led to hope that in thus unsettling established institutions your prop e may go free. This, then, is the hour for you to make an earnest effort to secure your own social posi tion and independence, by co-operating with those who now reach out their hands to aid you. I you to do this by the pride you may have to make another exhibition to the world of the valor, heroism aud virtue of the colored race ; by the love you may have for your struggling and oppressed people now among us, as well by the hopes you may iu duige of making smooth and prosperous the pathway of coming generations. 1 propose, o the first day of October next, to take with me one hundred colored men, as pioueers in this movement, wiio, with their families, may equal the number of 000 souls, and for whose benefit the appropriations iu the acts of Congress referred to were made.— The President will provide us the means of transportation and the protection of the settle ment. Being familiar with organizing and settling the early emigration to my own State (Kansas), 1 indulge the hope that that exper ience may be made serviceable to you. 1 am in earnest for the welfare of your people, pre seut and prospective. I want you to cousider this as au auspicious period for you. If this travail aud pain of the cation bo come the birth day of your freedom, let us plant you free and independent beyond the reach of the power that has oppressed you.— Consider this as nu opening by the wisdom of Divine Providence, when you are called of God to go with me to a country which your oppressed people are soou to receive for their inheritance. 'I propose to examine, and, if foand satis factory and promising, to settle you at Chiri qui, in New Granada (with the approval of tne government), only about one week's sail from Washington, D. C All persons of the African race of souud health, who desire to take with me the lead in this work,will please send their names, their number, sex and ages of the respective members of their families and their post office address to tne at the city of Washington, D. C. No white person will be allowed as a member of the colony. 1 waut mechanics and laborers, earnest, honest and sober men ; for the interests of a generation, it may be of mankind, or involved in the suc cess ot this experiment, and with the approba tion of the American people, and under the blessing of Almighty God, it cannot, it shall not fail. S. C.POMEIiOY, United States Senate. Senator Pomeroy has entered heartily into the President's colonization scheme. lie has become a thorough convert to the President's policy, and lias a colony ready to start with hint for South America about the Ist of Oc tober. Mr. Pomeroy devotes his attention practically to this subject, without any pecu niary compensation or benefit. A PUNNT INCIDENT —On the steamer Indi ana, on one of her trips down the Mississippi, there happened to be on board a Iloosierfrom the Wabash, going to New Orleans, who had an old fiddle npou which he continually scrap ed away, to the annoyance of the passengers. A Frenchman of delicate nerves and musical ear was greatly annoyed. He fluttered, fidget ed, swore at the fiddle,and begged the Hoosier to stap ; but it was no go. The Hoosir swore he'd " music as long as he pleased." At last a big Kentuckian piaeed himself before the fiddle,sajing,"l'll fix h ra,"and commenced brag ing with all his might,and drowned the screech ing of the fiddle. The discomfited lloosier beat a hasty retreat, greeted by the shouts of passengers and the delight of the Frenchman. During the night the Kentuckian lett the boat. The uext morning before breafast the passen gers w. re stirt: d by the discordant sounds of the old fiddle again. Hoosier had discovered that the coast was clear, and was bound for revenge on the passengers. The Frenchman, just seated to read his paper, one the first round arose, and looking anxiously around, shrugged his shoulders, and then shouted : " Varo is he ? Vare is be ? Qaick ! Quick 1 Vare is Monsieur Kentuck, de man vot play OD the jacka3S ?" Died Last Night. Coupled with the bridals, printed in little type, leading of the advertisements, jostled by a sorry jest, hard behind a market, close be hind a cotillion, what a place a newspaper is to put a death in. We are reading something about a heme, and all at once we are in a place of graves ; we are looking over the testimonials to the Elixir of Life, aud come, before we know it, upon a 'Died Last Night.' If there were ouly some retired and shad ed corner in a newspaper, with a willow or an urn in it, where the names that have no owners could be recorded, and we could go when weary with rambliug through the columns of bustle and business, and read ; aud think how surely one alter another, all names tend thither ; those that stand at the head of the columu editorial in capitals ; those that are pointed at with a finger, and woudered over with exclamation points, and asked after with interrogations ; those that were brides the other day, and are brides still, but with new bridegrooms ; those that were heroes, and found place in the 'leader ;' or beautiful aud woven in a wreath for 'Foe 's Corner.' But there is no such retreat—nothing but a narrow black like —, to keep the world out ; to prevent the rail way train, whose times are advertised below from ruuning over the names and obliterating it. And so it is like grove in a thoroughfare, covered with dust, and jarred by passing wheels ; it gives us pain to look at it, aud we are glad it is ouly for a day. 4 Died last night.' It was nobody that you, know, you thiuk, and so you pass on to a sale or bargain that you see beyond, aud forget that there was ever such a name or such a dying in the world. How apt we are to forget that there are those who can hardly see the Dame for the heavy rain that is lulling, while the heavens overhead are bright and clear; that eye? do rest thereou, that see a world put out where you discern a name ; that wonder how the sun can shine, since sundown came to them who hear with their hearts tiie idle laugh that's passing ou the wind. ' Died last night.' A pleasant time to die, but not last night—ab, no—some other night, a great, while yet to come. To go abroad by the true iight of stars, to find the way out from the pat of earth by everlasting lamps. 4 Died last night.' How many died? how many beautiful and good ? how many young and fair ; how many reverend and wise ? Some that you know and we know ; per haps oue that you and we loved. \\ c shall hear of it by aud by, and then wo shall remember that it was last night she died. To die at any time 'is a dreadful and awful thing ;' to die wheu day is breaking ; to die at high noon ; to die wheu the pearl aud gold of morning and the glow of noon are all blended upon the palette of, the West, till the sky looks like a great tinted shell thrown up upon the shore of Eternity. But to go from this world to that, iu the night, by the pale light of stars, is most solemn and beautiful of all. And theu there is a dignity about that going away alone ; that wrapping the mantle of immortality about us ; that put ting aside with a pale hand the azure curtains that are drawn around this cradle of a world ; that venturing away from home for the first time in our lives, for we are not dead : there is nothing dead to speak of; and seeing foreign countries that are not laid down on any maps we know about. There must be lovely lands somewhere starward, for none ever return that go there, and we very much doubt whether any would return if they/could. 4 Died last night.' Well, in a few days, as soon as they can—they take down the old family Bible, somewhere, and they write a de parture —the clearance of a soul. Sometimes it is a bud, but as rare. Ben Johnson said, so everybody thinks : " Twas but a bud, yet did contain More sweetness than shall bloom again." Sometimes a blossom wafted from the trec> by some retuuriiing breath, to heaven. How different the record on the other page, a year or so ago, when they set down the new name —the same name they write now but owner- Mess; that may he heard a few times, but not in the crowd, not iu the merry festival, but in the twilight hours, at home, and then be sylla bled no more. THE DEMIJOHN CHURCH. —Old- Judge L, of Alabama kept a demijohn of Jamaica in his private office. The judge bad noticed that on Monday morniug his Jamaica was lighter. Another fact had gradually established itself in his miDd. His son Sam was missing from the pew in the church. On Sunday afternoon Sam came in and went up stairs rather heavy wheu the Judge bailed him ; ' 3am, where have you been ?" " To church, sir," was the prompt reply. " What church, Sam ?" " Second Methodist, sir." " Had a good sermon, Sam ?" " Very powerfull, sir ; it quite staggered me, sir." " Ah ! I see," said the Judge, " quite pow | erful, eh Sam ?" The next Suuday the son came home rather earlier than usual, and apparently not so much " under the weather." llis father hailed him : " Well Sam, been to the Second Methodist again to-day ?" " Yes, sir." " Good sermon, my boy ?" " Fact was, father that I couldn't get in ; church shut up and ticket ou tho door." " Sorry, Sum ; keep going—you may get good by it yet." Sam says on going to the office for his usual Spiritual refreshments, he fouud the " John " empty, ar d bearing the following label : " There will be no service hero to-day, this church being closed for repairs." ffcy An emiueut physician has discovered thai the nightmare, in nine cases out of ten j> produced owjng a fc>U! fef * newspaper. VOL. XXIII. —KO. 14. What a Bayonet Charge Is. It is said that, severe as the battle at Pitta burg Lauding undoubtedly was, but one bayonet wound has beeu discovered by our surgeons there, aud that was inflicted by a barbarous rebel upon a sick soldier lying iu bis tent. Some surprise has been expressed at this fact ; there is a general impression that after a bayonet charge, if the contesting forces ure composed of brave meD,there should be a great number of such wounds. The truth is that a bayonet charge is a very different affair from what it is generally supposed. In the fiist place, the regiment or other force which makes the charge, though probably rauged as near as possible squarely opposite its enemy, cannot keep up tbis formation dur ing the quarter of a mile or more of groaud which must be traversed by it before the foe is reached. Even with the best drilled and bravest meD, one end of tbe line lags behind, and if the enemy should stand still to receive the charge, only a part of the line would be engaged at lirst. In practice, however, mili tary writers mu>.t confess that bayonets are very rarely actually crossed. A charge usual ly lakes one of three turns : either the charg ing party, with its firmness and impetuosity, throws the opposing force into a panic, aud it breaks rank and Hies without awaitiDg the thrust of the bayonet ; or, by firmness aud a well delivered volley at short distance, the side which is attacked drives off the other; or, in the fewest cases, both sides behave well, aud then, in the words of one of the most ex perienced generals, " the best sergeant decides the fate of the charge"—because only the sergeant and one or two of the men at the end of the line which first comes iu contact with the enemy's lines arc really engaged during the few decisive moments, and thus the con duct, individual bravery and strength of per haps half a dozen men, w ill aloue cross bay onets with the enemy, gain the victory for the side to which they beloug. " What do you suppose we keep our bayonets bright for but, to scare the enemy ?" a distinguished general said to one who was inquiring into the nature of bayonet charges ; and a Marshal of France wrote : "It is not the number of men killed, but the number of frightened, that decides the issue of a hattle." Jomini says he saw but oue bayonet fight iu all his military experience ; and it is related by one of the historians of Napoleon's wars, that when tbe French were once charging the Prussians, with the bayonet, when the latter would uot or could not retreat, there ensued a spectacle un expected by the officers on either side. The French and Prussian soldiers, w hen they got within striking distance, apparently by mutual consent, clubbed their muskets, and fought desperately with their arms reversed. Lesson from History. The nearest historical paralled in modern times to the present position of the Uoited States, is that of France duriug tbe great rev lution in ITG3, after the execution of Louis XVI. The Government of the Republic was harrassed with all manner of domestic difficul ties, from factious, conspiracies, rebellions, aud financies disordered to the last degree of con fusion and discredit. In the midst of these interual troubles, war was declared against France. Not by England aloue, but by Aus tria, Holland, Spain, Portugal, Sardinia, Na ples, the Pope and several of the German Principalities—in all thirty States, great and small, the greatest being the chief powers of Europe and the world. They took the field with great armies, and approached France from every point; this.too, at a time when in France whole provinces large cities like Lyons, Toulon and Orleans were in arms against tbe Republic, and the re volt in many places formidable and for a time successful. To meet these various enemies,the Freuch Convention at first called out 500,000 men. This force did uot prove sufficient, and a few mouths later a decree was issued pat ting in permanent requisition every citizen.— All the yong married men, or widowers with out children, from the age of eighteen to twenty-five were to compose the first levy.—. They were to assemble immediately in the chief towns of the diatrieis, to be ready to ! start for the scene of war at a moments no tice. The men b;tween twenty five aad thirty ! were notified to get ready, and meanwhile, ' were required to suppress the revolt of the Vendeans and other insnrgeuts, and to keep the peace of the interior. The men between thirty and sixty were held iu reserve for the more graceful arming of the population. In certain parts, such as the Departments adjoin ing La Vetidso, Lyons, Toulon and the Rhine, the whole population able to bear arms was at once called out. The means employed to arm, equip and subsist these levies were adapted to the circumstances. The first levies produced in a month six hundred thousand men,bnt these were uot soldiers, and for four or five months the armies of tho republic suffered a continu ous series of disaster from panic and want of skill both in troops and commanders. But the tide at length turned, and the Republic not only expelled the invaders, but carried its vic torious standard into the adjacent countries.— What France did thtu the Uuitek States can do now, if the exigencies of the case demand it. " ffulius, why did Gen Grant rest un easy de night 'fore he took Fort Donelson ?" "J)unuo, Massa Johusou; 'spose he didn't feel sleepy." "No, sah! 'Twas kasc he'spected to git a Pillow aod only got a slip" ttg" A young conscript fell sick and was sent to tbe military hospital. A bath was ordered. It was brought into the chamber where the invalid lay ; be looked at it bard and for some time, then he threw up Lis hands and bawled—" Doctor ! I can't driuk all that !" B igr Gen. Butler's proclamations are so sharp t'lat be needn't file them