rel
Nor the Franklin Repository.
THE NEW RECRUIT.
. ,
The old Potomac i►rmY i• •E
Hath a new recruit to-daft-•
Thor three score and ten,indn'winters
Have made his treptes gray,
But three score and ten rade,wieters
Chill not the love that yearni
For the banner of his country
In - the heart of old John. Burns.
:I • I ,
• u V idne quaint old soldiettarments,
r---- - Witlriwass buttons VI aglow;
Now comes he forth, as once he went
Te face therßritish foe.
t ! To the brave Potomac arm , .
On the battle-field be turns.
And offers to its General
The saline of John Bums.
Alone from out the multitude
° Whoee fields are traitor? proy,
Exalted in his aOlitnde
Come#,this old man and gray,
The grand Potomac army,,
hietoty'e glowing page,
Planta Mani a wondinue batik scene
To riot sraiing ate.
. •
And on its rolls is many a name,
Which death and daises spnvis,
But, none more bold than that man old.
Tho new recruit, John Burns.
Where muskets flash and cannons crash,
Where one but death discerns:
In the battle's brunt, far in the front,
Stands, fighting. old John Burns.
bb. gallant sight! that old mares might
Reveals the strength of old—
Of those who fought our land talree,
, Of those who fought t'uphold. -
Tho' his blood paint his garments quaint,
And tinge bis Messes grey,
He will not yietd, nor quit the field,
Till he is borne
Oh, Gettysburg. thy name and fame
This old man's , wounds may toil;
Thy ineekness now its sphere may find—
. Nursethe old hero well I
And; offspring of th' illustrious sires,
Whose ashes fame Morns—
Forever for the flag they loved,
Fight, fight like old John Burns.
Then peace o'erhll the Bind shall rest.
No foes without, within ;
No olive oppressed, but all be blessed
With Peace you've helped to win. • •
The school boy thro' king years to come
_ Who this dayli lesson learns,
Will revere that noble army,
And its new recruit, John Burns :
While ntaay s war-worn veteran.
„Who crippled home returns.
Will praise'amlblese that grey haired man,
_ The patriot John Burns. VIA
For the Franklin Repository.
A LOVERS' DIALOGUE.
• ,
"Dearest girl. you know' I luveyou.
Oft you've whispered you love me ;
Tit we know there flows bet*iit us
liany a dark and stormy sea." '
"Many a dark and stormy sea. dear, -
Sass of Time and - circumstance ;
' Shall we further drift abart,
Reach the self-same shore, perchance'?"
, .
Surely reach the self same haven,
Guiding for ourselveg oar Fate:
Ever there, if never here, love,
, • Trusting you and God I'll wait."
• . " Luring, trusting you, I'll wait, dear,
Heedless of Life's stormy sea;
Dark the present, Bright Oo future,
- •
All my hoPe's in God and doe,"
• -
➢roan Bolton's Dollar ?diagonal)
THE FALSE AND TICIJE
.• • .
Annie Carlisle's Loves.
BY MILD DALLAS.
CHAPTER I.
"God help thee then! -
_ see thy fame no more:.
- Like water spilled upon the plain,
Not to be gathered up again,
I the old love I bore."
- Click 2 there was a sudden break in the ra
'pid, momentous hum of the,sewing-machine.
Mrs: bans sitting by, fair of face and smooth
`Of :tongue, paused in the :Midst of her •r&•
'marks to inquirervery innocently, "What is
, ,
"Ihavp.breken necille"," answered Annie
Carlisle as quietly. Slid supplied its place
Leith another, conscious that Mrs. Dana's
cold blue eyes were watching her intently all
the while,. with a. transparent pretext of ex,-
l araining the machine. •
Perhaps she regarded its operator as some
thing noless - mechanical, a mere automaton,
destitute of the refined sensibilities and acute
perceptions which are supliosed to. belong
only to upper ten-dom. So thought: Annie,
resuming her work with a composure that
belied the desperate. beating of her heart.
Fitrtively glancing at her now and then, the
lady went on :
-" Yes, as I was saying, Arthur will be a
,happy Benedict before long. His engage
ment with Miss Vinal has already lasted
'some time, and there is no reason why they
should not, .be married at once. You have
Mein! Miss Vinal, I believe."
" Yes; she is very beautiful."
"Is she not?. Besides being wealthy, and
'of vorygood fainily. • I think more of thelasi
than anythina. else. Yoursee, Arthur has so
,many free and easy notions, I have been half
`afraid he might be led away by a foolish fan
cy for some one beneath his own station; in
'which case I should certainly have felt it my
duty to 'interfere. Young. men will have
their love affairs, all well enough perhaps, so
long as they, do not get entangled in them.
, But I thinle,any one must regret when they
- end in imprudent marriages - that are very
apt to bring trouble to both parties. I am
glad that Arthur's good sense har : preserved
him from anything serious. Better be a
little wild, dear fellow, than lose caste by a
foolish and unequal match."
. 'She rose, and came over to Annie, her face
. overspread -with, the, wily smile it had worn
hrotighout the conv,li i it on.c,
"How beautiful that stitching looks. And
'you have nearly finished it, too. You are
'very expert I think I -must allow you the
.rest of the day when that is done."
"Thank you; it will .take me some time
yet, to finish," aniwered Annie Carlisle
1 4dietly,. wondering how -muCh longer 'she
'Mast endure the stealthy gaze-that seemed
noting her very heart-throbs,
Mrs. Dana drew a little nearer.
"Well, don't'overwork yourself, my dear.
You an looking rather flushed just now. I
tin afraid your head aches."
; • The considerate wordF, the tender insinua
ting tones were very welt chosen; as was also
the caressing touch of her white, jewelled
lingers, as they lingered a moment on' the
girl'irufturned forehead. Annie'was'oleceiv
: id•by neither. She foricil herself t s look up
'calmly into, the smiling: face . - bent over her.
and to used the watchful, eyes witha.steady
coolness that slightly disconcerted thir..
owner.
lam very,Well,- tliankyou. rneyerWaa•
better. , Your anxiety is quite thrown , away
upoo,the, Mrs. Dana?' .she[Said4leaSantly.
"I am frilly glad to:hear it. winildbe
'auchia. serious thing for - .you to -lose your,
health, now that you have no one to provide
• for you. If you were only married now,
and free from all anxiety about your support.
And that reminds-me of something I heard
the, other day. about your declining a very
excellent offer from a young . carpenter in
foul; 'fieighborliOod, a very nide marirand .
deeply in love with. you, I remember it was
said. What possible motive couldyou have
fot refusing him
" The very simple one that I do not love
him well enough to be ' his wife," replied
A.nnie, with ; a blush. • She was vexed at
_Mrs. Dana's want of delicacy in referring to
the matter. _
But, my dear, consider 'hovi'nich pleas
anter it would. be to have a home 'of your
own, with a kind husband to provide for, all
your wants. As for the love, that would be
likely to come in good' time of:itself, wlen
you found how much there was to lie thank
ful f 0 1 .." • • . -• .
" I believe. in making sure of it before
Marriage, rather than taking my chanee of
it afterwardi," said Annie, smiling: lam
afraid I should make a very poor wife to one
I d had no instinctive regard for from the first.
The c3mforts and luxuries of a home would
seem little to me if by any means I mLssed
the pleasure of a mutual affection. No the
man I may marry shall at least have: the
satisfaction of knowing that he is loved With
the best and fullest -love'i am capable of
giving."
%Mrs. Danabalf sighed. Perhaps years ago,
before, she had- sold her beauty. fbr a 4.alch
. husband, she might have - had some 'such
simple honest theories of her own. They
had given place to very worldly 'doctrines
since, and she did not like the girl any; bet
ter for resiving them.
. " Well," she said, with her honeyed smile, -
" I boje.you
,ma) live to realize all your
pretty fancies. It is what' few women do.
Don't expect too much, however, and belsure
of the gentleman's love and good, ntentions,
before you set your heart upon him." [
With this covert sneer, disguised in the
• kindest tone, the lady gracefully'retired
from the! room. • She had to confess herself
based. She had not lingered thus long,
talking contidentiallyto her seamstres, with
out a purpose, 'and although to appearance
that purpose had failed, she was conlident
her words 'fad left behind the sting andheart
burn she had thought to see manifested)
Annie Carlisle had worked for -her More
Or less ever since she first - came to the 'citV
over a year previous. Mrs. Dana hall only
one son at home at the time, the youngest,
Arthur, a handsome, dashing, fascinating
young man of four and twenty. - This, gen
tleman was not, slow in discovering that his
mother's seamstress had a very lovely face,
with the. softest brown eyes and hair rn the
World, He got into the habit of strolling
into the sewing-room when she was there,
lounging carelessly over her chair, and Wiling 1
away dull time with Watching her pretty
face and nimble fingers. Thus an intimacy
began ."which speedily grew into love ; i with
him it was the mere pastime of the -passing
hour ; with her, hope, faith, all, that makes
life dear and sacred. She never doubted his
intentions ; she was
,ft very woman in her
trust and unwavering confidence, and fully
believed that at. some future time he would
make her his wife. He had promised to,
only mentioning his mother's ambitious, views
• for him as a reason for present secrecy..
• Just as if that shrewd lady was in blissful
ignorance of his frequent visits to the sewing
room, which adjoined his own, andwas:there
fore very convenient. Jiist as if she had
not already calculated on the strength; of his
new fancy, and argued no harm to the en-,
gagernent she had in prospect for him.—
Once convinced that her a n had no •inten
tion of disgracing himself by un unequal
marriage with her seamstress, and she let
him take his way unconcerned. The girl
might be weak-and so be brought into die--
grace, or she might be virtuous and break
her heart, that was no affair of Mrs. Dana's.
She had determined on an aristocratie!match
for her son, and all these_ minor Matters
must give place.
To do - Arthur Dana justice, he bad no vil
lainous intentions with regard to Annie, not
even after he had Yielded to his mother's
-wishes, and affected. an engagement with
Miss He Was only amusing himself,
without thinking'of the time to come, and
Annie, ignorant of any cloud in the future;
gratefully accepted' this sunshine brighten
ing her present . life and • was happy.' Mrs.
Dana's carefully Worded reference -to her
son's marriage had - fallen upon her like a
sudden blow, but, her indignant pride had
kept back the weakness that lady had mali
ciously longed tosee displayed.
She was so thankful afterwards that she
had not given way, Her cheek Was still
burning from Mrs. Dana's last shaft, when
the door reopoied, and she came in - again
dressed for a. ride.
"I am going out in the' carriage. jf Ar
thur should happen to come in here while I
am away—he does sometimes, does he jiot ?
will you please tell him Miss Vinci is com
ing home with me, and ask him to wait for
us? He May not be aware she isorning,
I
and would be disappointed at not seeing
her."
Annie bowed assent, and was finally left
alone to herself. She worked on and
with a hind of desperate energy,. not :daring
to stop, lest- the wild thoughts that went
surging'through her brain should overcome
her. Her Mind was in' a tumult, feeling
usurping reason and.goading her into action
for relief.
Gradually her intense ;excitement [ cooled,
and she becam3 able to reflect on theinteili
gence she had heard With some degree of
-calmness.. So - this was to be the end of all
her bright hopes and Spanish castles. She
was not ambitious. She had not loved Ar
thur for his wealth oif position, and the idea
that he could think. less of her for the want
of these, had never -once been 'harbored in
her mind..
. She had thought him so good, so, noble!
she had been so proud of his generous love !
She remembered wcindering once "when Miss
Vinci, handsome and splendidly dressed,
•
came sweeping into the :room, how ,; Arthur
could, ever have passed such as-he byyfor
one so unpretending as I herself. What an
exultant throb her heart, had given at the
thought. How 'passionately it beat, Sending
hot flushes to her face, now that she' knew
the truth! He had -deceived her, 'playing
carelessly with her love, while all the time
his - own was pledged to another. The 'pain
of the discovery lay more in his uriworthi
ness than in her own loss. It-was SO hard
1 . to think ill of one she had loved and, trusted
fully. She 'felt that even if he were free,
she could not have the!sanie love Ifor him
again : it had faded away with her: loss. of
confidence, and she felt 'only a dull,;, aching
void.
The sound of footsteps,' quick, eager, elaF
tic broke in :Upon her troubled "musings.—
They came springing up the stairs.t*, at a
time, and_ yaused for amoment iu the-nort
Fox
alp frcntklin ilevositorp, tbambersbutg, pa.
room. Annie,knew them well, no less than
the voice singing broken fragments of gay
tnites.iit a musical medley. The color left
- her cheekftir an instant, and hersight seemed
to grow - dim. The next she had schooled
herself with steady firmness to meet the in
terview' at -hand, and when Arthur Dana
iopened the door soon after, she was, her own
womanly'self.
He stood looking in at her, from the open
doorway a moment before entering. ' A fair,
4andsbme face: with thick masses i q
curly . hair, - lying in rings about the forehead
-;:the Month - eurVeitand smiling beneath - a
light moustache—the eyes -large and blue,
merry and tender by turns. Annie invol
untarily glanced up at him as he stood there
wearing his m.other's. smile, soft, •winning
and insincere. Where had: her eyes been
that she had never noticed' it before ? He
came gaily into the - room, taking her face
between his .hands for a kiss us he -had done
so often in the time pa,st. ,
"What, all alone, pet? I am' fortunate."
She had' evaded the kiss,'and now put him
quietly- back.. "Dora interrupt.me. I am'
very busy finishing off soine .work. It is
•
nearly done,"
"0, well, be quick then, and metintime we
can haven little eonfidential
.that. I sup
pose your occupation Noes not confine your
tongue as well as your Engeri."'
-NO, but I prefer' to give - it my entire at
tention, so please be-'quiet for a little while:"
"At your ladyship's pleasnre," -and he
threw himself lazily into a chair, and watched
the busy motion of the machine elith half
shut 'eyes. Annie worked. steadily . and si
lently, some five minutes longer, then laid by
her work completed. Arthur sprang up
gaily.
"Now then, am I rele . ised from 'thraldom ?
Because I have something to say to, you, and
my lady . mother may:be interrupting us.—
By the Way,--where is she ?"
"Gone out to eat - upon Miss 'V i lma, who
is coming llonie with her. She' wished me
_to tell you so, and ask you to remain in:till
i they came:"
"0 very well. lam nothing loth in pres
ent company. Did she have any further in;
telligcnce to communicate?" - •
, tOrily the fact of-her son's intended mar
riage with Miss Tinal. Allotii me to con
gratulate you."
-
She looked steadily at him as she spoke,
although the hand th - at lay in herlap with a
turquok , e ring, his gift, upon it, trembled a
little.
Arthur .was totally unprepared for her
wordy, and for the very quiet manner in
which they were delivered.
"Yc_ti take it coolly enough, upon my
wor3," he was fairly surprised into saying.
"You would have rife break my heart for
you, I suppose," answered Annie, with alma'
smile, though her face was very grave." But
I knew the value of what I - haire lost too
truly for that:" •She was silent a moment,
then fixing her eyes upon him, she said,
"Arthur—have you done well tedeceive me
allthiswhile? Was itkind ? Waiit honest?'-'
He flushed, and moved uneasily in his chair.
" Hang it all, what was Ito do ?":he retorted
angrily., "31y mother hunting me day and
night with projects of a suitable; atch, and
giving me-no peace till I promised to comply
with her wishes. Upon my word, Annie, I
never had a thought of wrong in connection
- with you. I did love - you, I love you now,
and if it were feasible, would gladly make you
my wife. But you must see that it is impos
sible with mymother's views on thesubject."
Annie's lip curled.
. ,
"May she always find as obedient a son."
shesaidscornfully. "Arthur, lam not seek
ing- to hold you back from your intended
marriage, I am not even blaming, you for
thinking ,of it. My only regrets is that you
should have thought it necessary so long- to
_play the deceiver. Why not have dome.to
me at once, and told the in simple faith of
the: barrier,between us, trustinw to my pride
to, set matters right ?, Did you fear the effort
t - ) forget you might proire too much for - my
strength, and cause you some transient em
barrassment ?" •
•
" The event has shown how idle any such
fears would have been," he hastened to say,,
'not a-little chagrined at -her self-posseision.
"It must have been a weak love that could
have died so easy a death."
She - rose and stood beside him'. not without
a certain added dignity that made her face
very beautiful. • ,
‘: . Arthut," she said. " it was a strong love.
and a true. Truer and stronger, you will
never know. Had it pleased you to make
me your wife, I-would have been, by , virtue
of that love. everything a woman can be to
the man that has her whole heart's-devotion.
But—" and the, sudden change in her voice
Should ,have told him how utterly dead was
the feeling of which she spoke- l r -.• there an
be no real "love without respedt. Mine for
you died when I found you unworthy of my
trust. It can never have a revival. I wish
you every happiness in the choice you have
made, and beg you will let no uneasiness on
my account disturb your peace-of mind."
She would have left the room, but he rose
and prevented her. He had given very little
heed to her last words ; those, wherein she
spoke of her love thrilled him with a new
passion, and ,made him loth to give up a
treasurer hejust began to value now that he
was about losing it. Surely with such love
in her heart, she might yet be his. He could
not afford to surrender her without a strug
gle, though he must have been mad not to
see she was past; any appeal he might make
to her.
"Annie, you will not—you must not let
this be the end of everything between us. I
Wye you too we'll to give up so easily. Lis
ten to me for a moment. I cannot break 4
this match; I am plpdged 'to my mother no
less than W Miss Vinal. But you know very
well, there is no love goes with it. As far
as feeling is concerned;T am as much yours
as ever, and you cannot be so cruel as-to deny
me the pleasure of laving you, and making
you happy with my love. Of course we could
never meet' on precisely the old terms, but
we might make other arrangernents far more
satisfactory. What have' you to say, pet ?"
.. He looked up for the first time since he be.
gan speaking. • He had wonderfully mistaken
the character, ,of the person he addressed.
Annie's eyes had sgrown larger and darker
during his remarks, till the dilated pupils
made them seem intensely black, but she let
him go on to _the end without inteitmruption.
Then, for all answer she said very quietly,
glancing down :
u What do you propose to do ?" •
"Why nothing easier," he replied,, con
siderably reassured by her tone. , 4 It is the
most common thing in the world. Do ?
What others do whose hearts do not go with
their hands; what everybody does, who loves
and is willing to make a sacrifice for the love.
We must contrive to be happy together in
spitif fate. It will be hard if we cannot
find chances of meeting, especially when I
amintister of my oWn time, at .1 shall be soon.
No orie need know of it. If you• like, you
can still continue your work as a blind, only
I shoag provide for you, of course. Or if
yon would but consent, you, might have - a
nice little house of your ()Urn, somewhere in
the suburbs,. where I could visit you at plead
,are ; and; everything go on smoothly without
a shadow of suspicion. You have not a h9St
of friends to trouble themselves over your
wheiCabonti. It' would( be Vastly easier
•
than the life yotelecurnow.i i -
He had talked himself intb quite It
confi
dent tone,-and would have taken her into hi:S
ail:es, , nothing _doubting his success-: She
shrtink away _from , his • touch as if it. were
poisdn. -
"If you.evei dare to say another word of
the kind to me, I will go straight to Miss
Vinal, and mfself inform her of the charac
ter of the man. she is.. -engaged to: ! - Whet do
- you take me Because I am poor, am
the less - virtuous - r Bee:tiiise I gave you an
innocent love. dayou think I will accept a
guilty one in its place?"
"Is•this the extent of your regard, that
you have no better wish for Me at this mo
ment than a:selfish desire to be my ruin?
Let me go. am shamed through all my
being to have loved so meisiLa. thing !' "
He let her pass, and she went hastily out
of, the room, trembling with the strong ex
.eitement that quickened 'every pulse. Ar
thur looked after with a crimsoned cheek,
though there was a soornful smile' Shout his
month.
- .
"Whew!. What a temper! Well, it is as
easy for me to end it now. She might have
made trouble for •me, if I. had carried the
thing, out."
Ho picked up his cap, and sauntered care
lessly away, burning an opera air. Annie
had put on her thing?, and was half way
down the street hurrying home,, when her
eye chanced to fall on the turquoise ring he
,had given her. She turned _at once. She
wbnld not have kept Buell• a gift for the'World
and hastening back, she tried to • think of
`Some way to return it without meeting him.
Fortune favored her. ;He had left his room
with the door wide open, and Annie stole
quietly in, and laying the ringon the mantel
piece; was outof the house again before he :
heard her. •-
She walked rapidly on, takinvio heed of
the 'passers-by, till she came to her boarding
house, the only hOme she knew.. ' The land
lady, Mrs. Smith, met her on the stairway,
as she hastened up to her room.
"Whyoltiss
_Carlisle, what hi - the matter?
You 'are as pale as a ghost. Are you sick,?".
Annie was glad she could offer,any honest
excuse for her ill looks. "My head aches
badly. I don't think I care-about any sup
per to-night, Mrs. Smith."
"No supper ? But you'll haVe a cup of
tea ; it will do your head good. I'll bring
it up to your room, if you don't feel like
coming down."
"Thank you; you are 4ery kind, but there
is no need to trouble you," and she passed on
impatient to be alone,
Good Mrs. Smith looked after her with
some solicitude. "Poor child! she looks all
tired out. It's a hard life for one so young.
I-wish. she could have taken a-liking. to that
Mr. Pike."
Once in the safe refuge of her own 'room,
Annie felt free to indulge in the luxury she
had longed for, the blessid relief of tears.
She had kept such firm control over her feel
ings in the presence of others, that they broke
forth with double violence now she was
alone.
She cried and sobbed in utter abandon, too
wretched to impose a check upon her grief.
But such violent storms seldom last long.
Annie's passion soon exhausted
_itself, lean
ins only a dull, heavy sense of misery, more
_tedious to endure than sharp pain. •
She rose, bathed her swollen eyes, and
wandered listlessly to the window, glancing
up at the sky which heavy, leaden clouds
made dark and drear—like ter life, she
thought; Each had been bright with sun
shine a few hours before. She would look
no longer at the ill-omened sky, and stood,
moodily gazing up and down the narrow
'alley which separated the hOuses in that
block from those facing the - next street.
• A little child stood smiling at her frOm one
of the Windows opposite,: it tiny, blue-eyed
thing, with sunny curls clustering about a
sweet, little innocent face. Annie had often
'noticed her before, and her mother, a pale,
sad-looking woman dressed in black, whose
whole soul seemed centered in her child.
The little one bad come to know her of late,
and always smiled brightly when she appear
ed at the window.
Just now the girl was in no mood for any
such welcome. The sight of the little smil
ing face awoke a fceltng almost of envy,
bringing painful memories of her own fondly
cherished childhood, and the - mother whoSe
tender care made every trouble light. Ah,
those golden years! when "the innocentjoy
,of to-day" left no thought of care for the
morrow—when the 'world was' one vast gar
den, and life a long playtime—when "love's"
sorrow seemed more strange than loye's
treason could seem now ! those happy,
'thoughtless rears-!
0, to go back to them once more! 0, "for
one hour of .being a child again, knowing
nothing of grief or pain; having a.mother;"
—the desolate wail of a sick and lonely
heart, Annie's face was still hidden, in her
hands, when Mrs. Smith entered the room
some half hour afterwards bringing up. the
tea.
She started a little at her boarder's white,
drawn features and heavy eves.
_.
"Are you worse. child? There, drink
this tea ; it may make you feel brighter. I
do hope you aint a-going to be sick."
Annie drank the tea, grateful for any little
kindness, and tried to persuade Xrs. Smith
that she
_needed no further remedy than a
good night's rest. But she was very far from
inclining to test it ; hermind - waS too full of
troubled thought for sleep. She waited till
the house was quiet from the bustle of , meal
time, and then putting on her waterproof,
went silently out into the street. She did
not know it was raining, till she felt the large
drops. falling on her hand. She ' only drew
her cape more closely. around her, screening
her face with the hood, and' went on faster
than betbre. Battling. the rough Wind did
her good; the storm without helped to calm
the storm within. It was ringing nine:
when she got back to the house, tired and
spiritless, but in aq4iet frame of mind. Mrs.
Snail came out from the parlor as ahe
went in, looking a little surprised at seeing
her.
"0, is it you, Miss Carlisle? I was in.
hopes it was Mr. Allen. I wanted, him to go
for the doctor." ;
"Who is sick ?"
.‘.‘ No ono in the house. It's that Mrs.
Douglass ,that lives opposite. I•knew when
she moved in that she Wrouldn't live long.
Such a cough as she had I She's been very
sick all day, - and to-night they sent for me.
just came home for some wine; and to_get
some one to go for the doctor again. Not
that all the doctors in the world can do her
any good now, poor -thing! But it seems
more of a satisfaction to have one." •
"Cannot Igo ?" inquired Annie. "It is
only nine, and lam not afraid. Who shall
I go for ?"
"Well, Dr. Clark has been attending her.
If le isn't in, you might go for Dr. Stevens.
He's miy physician, But do you• feel well
enough to be out so much in the rain ?"
0, yes, my -head is much better, and I
shall be glad to be of service. will be
back soon." • • • •
, hurried out again, -with far
,different
feelings than she lad had before., The sick
woman was rn other than he mother of the
little child Shellacl4o latelY envied ; envied
for her freedom frimi care, her happy uncon
sciousness of grief; 7 -and now there was
about befalling: he;iii' sorrow to whicli
others must yield; which,' whether it comes'
early orlatd, utfi:yelt feel to be-the -ine loss
which can never be repaired or made up to
us.
The doctors Mrs. Smith had named were
both out, and a little uncertain , where'c next
to go, Annie walked back in the rain, till
she came chance upon_another office.
She Was Mordfortunate hee. The dee'tor,
a pleasant, kindly-looking man of. perhaps
thirty-five, prepared -to accompany her at
once asking a few brief questions on the way
in a tone of much' interest.
. She went into the house with , him, anxious
to learn, the sick woman's Rite, butone glance
at her- told even her inexperienced eye that
there was no hope,' She lay in ; a lind of
stupor, her pale, thin faCe.looking still paler
from the musses of dark hair around it. - " It
was a face •that had seen riich'suffering, and
was happily _now wearing a more peaceful
smile than it had worn for years. The, phy
sician regarded her gravely for a moment,
then he turned to the woman who lived in
the house with her • !-
"If she has any rolationg or friends near,
they should be sent for at once."
"She has none that I know of,- she' is a
stranger in the city. •
A stran g er -and friendless ! Annie had
known what that meant; her very-• heart
went-out.hi - pity to the dying woman whose
sole' claim to affection rested on the lit le child
that in years to come would scarcely be able
to recall her mother's:face. She involuntarily
:ailed to the doctor, who ,stood near-by, re
garding his patient rather sadly. •
"Is there nothing you can do for her ?"
"She must have been past cure long ago.
It is the final breaking up of a - constitution
never strong—consumption, I suppose we
must call it, but I think her sickness has
been more of the mind than the body ; some
heavy* Care or grief, that has made her life a
burden. Well, it is almost over.".-
He spoke in a tone of kindest sympathy.
Annie looked at him more carefully than she
had done before, and thought what a good
face he had, and hovir, if she were ill,- she
should like to trust herself to his There
was something so honest and true in the dark
gray eyes, and such genuine sweetness about
the mouth, smiling, 'mobile, and yet firm ;
the kind of face for little children to love,
and for the sick and world'-weary to turn to
with implicit trust, gathering- comforting
hope of this life, or f atient faith for the next,
even the dying woolen's eyes brightened us
they opened suddenly upon him out of-heavy
sleep, but she had started up, glancing wildly
about the room.
"My child ! I .want my child ! What
have you done , with hern,
The little girl had been sleeping in the next
room, but qt this appear they . broughther in,
and laid her beside her mother. The large,
dark eyes softened once more as she took the
baby in her arms, and nestled its head gather
breast; but a film was gathering over them,
and they saw that the end was swiftly draw
:ll; near. She seemed conscious of it herself,
and turned to the doctor with a vague, in
stinctive dread. , •
"dm I dying? Is this death?" she whis
pered, half fearfully.
He laid his band gently on her damp fore
head. "Not death, but life—a happier life
free from all pain," be answered, softly.
She lay very quiet for a moment, learning
peace, it .may be, from the comforting
thought of rest; then the mother-love, which
yen to the last burns warm and bright, fore
•d a new cry from her lips:
"0, how can I die, and leave my child?"
The doctor turned to those: near. "Has
she no, relatives or friends, to be affected by
her "death? There must be some one bound
to her by tics of blood, if we only-knew."
She heard him, and answered herself:
' , There is no one here; they are all in Eng
land.' I gave up everybody when I married;
they wouldn't .care for me now. I don't
mind, for. myself; but 0, if there was only
some one td ITep my child!"
• Something in the mute appeal of the yearn
ing eyes seemed to address itself ter Annie.
3loved bv 41. sudden but irresistible impulse,
she bent down-close to the dying woman, and
timidly prollbred her request.
"Will you trust her to me? r anialone irr
the world, and shall be glad to havesome one
•
to love and cherish."
The mother's watering gaze fixed itself
earnestly on her face for a moment; the -anx
iouslook slowly faded from her owri, , and a
more peaceful quiet stole over it.
"I do •not know you, but you look good,
and there is no one else. You will be kind
to her, I am sure." . .
. . ..
"She shall be as a sister to me." -
"God bless you! Don't let her forget me
quite."
- There was nothing more Said. Still -hold
*ng her darlin , r t' in her arms, the mother
wearily closed her eyes, while her quick; la
bored breathing grew more faint; gradually
it elased - altogether. petice which pas-,
seth all understanding" had - fallen.npon her,
and earthly care and earthly pain were for
ever put aside. The doctor motioned for
them to remove the child. With tears in her
eves, Annie softly unlocked the little clinging
hinds lyinc , 6 so warm in the clasp of those that
dtath lad chilled. - Even in her sleep the lit
tle mie struggled faintly, and sought to lay
her baby cheek back on the still breast that
had ever been- its resting-place. ,Alas, for
the love which, for the first time, could
neither feel nor answer! Alas, for the child
heart. so early grieved, though as yet scarce
conscious of its loss!- •
(Conclusion next week.)
From the Pal is GnltgoanL
A =HEDY FOR THE DIPTHEEIA.
This affection, - which comprises those
known under the various names of bad sore
throat, angina, croup and the French ongine
couenneuse, has hiterto been considered one
of the meit difficult to cure. We some time
back gave an account of Dr. Trideau's meth
od, which consists in administering borax,
under the form of a syrup; but we now find
in the Revue Therapeutique, a paper by Dr.
A. De 'Grand, Boulogne, Vice Consul at
Havana, In-which he mentions ice as an in
fallible specific. As this, from its extreme
simplicity, would, if effective, be fOr superior
to any yet tried, we cannot ref"ain from
quoting the cases mentioned by the author,
who had published this remedy as far buck
as February, 18,,60, and consequently coin-
plains, (not without reason, if its efficacy is
such as ho - descibes it) of the inexcusable
negligence of practitioners in not taking no
tice of it, thereby allowing many valuable
lives to be lost: 'The o followiiig cases came
under his observlition after that date. In
March and April, 1861, the disease in ques
tion brOke out under an epidemic form,and
chiefly attacked adults with such. virulence
that in one week three young women died in
one house. Jne of Dr. DeGrand's patients,
'afflicted with blephacite, was seized with 'it.
and as he mild not inimediately attend, ow
no to the severity of the case, another physi
eion was-called in,.who , ordered emetics and
aluminotis gargle,. which prOdUc,ad no effect:
=At lengtb.Dr. DeGrand elute, and foilnd the
tonsilsgreatly_ iriiiillent; - arid a false membrane
!covering them. Bo immediately adminis
tered small pieces of ice; and by the follow-
Inv:Morning the tumefaction of the tonsils
laid diminished by half, and the false meth- ,
brane had nearly 'O 5 -satoPeared. That very'
evening she was enabled to take food.' Pro
iting by this example, a few 'days after het
brother was seized with sore throat, prese4 -
ing the sanie preliminary symptoms as thoSe
of his'aiitert, but he without waiting fel the
doctor, tooksome'ice, and was rid of his sore
.throat a few hatirs. Sonic days later:Dr:
'Degrand was
_summoned to a young lady
who.: hid been laboring , under-the disease; :,fog
seine forty-eight hours; all remedies bad fail
ed, and the parents, relations and friends of
the family were plunged in the.)leepest sor
row. When Dr. De Grand ordered ice, a
general cry of astonishment was uttered ,b 7.
all present. Ice for a sore throat: Impossi
ble! It was sheer murder! Dr. De Grand—
maintainedAis
ground, and after much ez.
Aostulation,.
ditnag which much -time was.
lost, he obtained his end. Bef ore two uty.
four hours were over the patient was in-full
convalescence. Being at Vera Cr9z on a
mission, he was requested to see a young trarn
who was attacked with malignant sore throat
and had been treated without effect bv 'caut
erization' with hydrochloric acid and astrin
gent gargles. Here, again, he had to battle
with the prejudices of the fathily, but was at -
length,allowed to administer ice. The young
man recovered in the -- ,N:mrse ofthe following,
day. Dr. - De Grand has now been using due
remedy for the hat twelVe years; without
having pet with a single failure. ,
GENERAL B. F. pr , FLEB., in his grea
speech at Oxfoid, ChOter county, , paid hie
respects.to the Copperheads who are perpet
ually grumbling about the . denial of “fros
speech", to the traitors and their. abettors.
Let, them shciulder ainusket and help
„put
down the rebellion, and free speech will soon
be restored. The General said:
It is complained that the President Sue- -
tended the habeas corpus. Now, thesuspen
mon of the habeas corpus is m•Sentially ii
-
Deniocratic idea It *never was recommended
-
to be suspended-until by Thomas Jefferson,
in the 'Burr gbellioh. Who actually dic3
suspend it ? General" Jackson, and ho was - a
good Democrat. General Jackson,,not only
suspended it but arrested the offender and
imprisoned the judge. [Applause,] The
suspension is therefore according to derrio.7c
cratic practice.—But, without stopping to
defend it 6ii that ground, how Cali WO get rid -
of it ? "End the rebellion. Do tot interfere
with-the government. If it is feeble, give
it your strength ; if it is weak, give it your
power ; if it is unpatriotic, give it your. pat
riotism. Go with me and end' the rebellion;
and there will ben° further suspension of the,
habeas corpus. End the rebellion and 'oar,
woes are ended: There Will. be no further
drafts, no more increase of taxation, no mole
infringement of the liberty of speech.''"
. • RONEBTY.-A Quaker, once passing
through a market, stopped at a stall and,itk
. •
quired the pride of citron. .
"I have none," said the holiest farmer,
"that will suit you; they are decayed, and
„their flavor Is gone:"
Thank thee, friend, I will go to the neat
Eland',"
" Hast thou good fruit, to-day ?" ho said
to the dealer.
" Yes, sir; here are some of the 8n41 4
nut-megs•of my garden. They are small,
but rich of their kind."
" Thep cant thou recommend them ?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Very will take two."
He carried them borne, and they proved
not only unsound, but miserably 'tastels.
The next morning he went again to thesame
place. The man who sold him the fruit the
previous day asked him if he - would have .
some more.
" Nay, friend, thou bast deceived me once
and now, although thou mayest speak the
truth, still I cannot trust thee: but thy neigh
bor chose, to deal uprightly - with me, and .I
shall henceforth be his patron. Thou woula t,
do well to remember this, and learn by ex
perience that a lie is a base tHingrin the be
gining, ar k d a very unprofitable •one in tl.
end."
A' RE'SSARKAX,X
Louis Republican,
_ot the 29th alt, says;
"We saviiester&T reftillar old veteran
warrior and patriot. His name is John T.'
C. McCaffrey. He was raised in KnOxville,
Tennessee, is seventy-three years old, and' has,
had fifteen sons, and' three daughters. Eleven
sons were in the Union army until the siege
of Vicksburg, where four of them were killed%
The old man himself enlisted in the 10th1111.- -
nois at Fayetteville, Ark., over a year age,
and was lately discharged. .He served eight
months in the Florida war, twelve montht
under Gen. Jachson. thirty-two months in
the Mexican war, and twelye months in the
presen / Ovar. He has three brothers and tutee
step ! soia-now in the Union army. We tell
the tale as he; with every semblance) of "poi
feet truth, told it.to us.'r
• A letter from Nashville, IGth inst., to thi."-
.
Boston , Traveller,
_says.
had occasion to call officially on -Gip..
Andi Johnson yesterday. As I was leaving
his room he remarked to me, Send out your
New England people; infuse into thia"State
the energy that has built up a Lowell, a
Lawrence f.Lnd a Ata.nchester._slVe have here
everything to invite" the skill and ambition
.of.man; mineral resources.hardly surpa..4:ed,
agricultarat resources equal to'any state; all
we want is the mon.' I asked him for his
autograph. Ile wrote, 'Treason must be
made odious dndtraitors punished.' Let Ten
nessee be under The political guidance of such
men as Andy Johnson, and she will soon take
her place 'among the wealthy and populous
states of the country."
CH iimEs BE ECHEE, of the eattaraugus,
(N. Y.) Fr eeman has been drafted. • In ay. !
noanch3g the fact, he says :
Why should•we mourn, consetjpted frionda.
Or quake' at. Draft's alarms? .
'Tis but the voice that_Ab'ram sends -
To make us shoulder arms!
-•
A CLERGYMAN recently exchanged carpet
bags with a Copperhead orator at a• railroad
station not many miles from Portland, and
was horrified when be was preparing for ser
vices, to find a Copperhead oration and 'a
bottle of whiskey in his carpet bag instead' of
his sermon. Probably the other man .felt
-worse than he did.
THE question has been Askt.d, why is it
considered impolite for gentlemen to gbin
-
the presence of ladies in, their shirt slepies;
while it is considered in every way correct
for the• ladies therosetves - to - appear before
gentlemen without any Sleeves.
NAN and wife are like a pair of : seliikorgi;
so long as they are-together, but they become
daggers as soon as they- are dis=united. ,