goTtira.
TWILIGHT ON BUNTER :-AU
GUST 24, 1863
Still and dark along the s.m
Sumter lay:
A light was overhead,
As from but'ning cities shed.
And the clouds were battle-red,
Far away I
Not a solitary gun
Left to tell the fort had won,
Or lost the day!
Of the drooping rebel flog,
And the seabirds nereaming round It In theft play!
now It woke ono April morn
Fame sball tell;
As from Moultrie, chide nt hand,
And the h•ittcrrleF on the 13,111,
ltound its faint but fearless baud
Shot end ellen
Bathing bid the doubtful light :
But they Ibught the hopeless fight
Long and well,
(Theirs the glory, ours tho shame!)
Till the wails were wropt In name,
thon our flag was [timidly struck, and Sumter relit
Now—O look at Scouter now
In the gl,mn!
Mark its scarred and shattered walls,
Olark I the ruined rampart falls!) a
There's a ju,tlre that appalls
In its doom:
For this blasted wit of earth
Where Rebellion had its birth
Is its tomb!
And when l.lninter sink. i t
From th boivens, that shrink aghast,
will rise in grim del talon, and make room
c~.l ,S`CI~3IUV,i) i .
THE SECRET ROOM
=1
It was midsuintuur—hot, arid rnidi , urn-
Incr. OUr re iiuciit was stationed at the
town of N I had grown
ly weary of the idle, inactive life" We were
leading. The days had heeoine
insufferably luau and dreary ; a Iceling of
ennui and re , t l, n s took IMSeSSiOII of
me, and I si! , lied kr green meadows,
shady lanes and cool murmur of rivulets.
Leave of absence was easily obtained;
but where should I go
I more Ihreilily realized than ever be
fore my isolated life. 1 was Orme in the
world. No kindred to extend to me the
kindly hand of greeting—no home to
which my steps might turn. I. had for
med but few friendships among my coin
panions, for 1 - load - but little in - common
with their levity and gaiety.
It was at this iliac that I opportunely
received a later fruit an old friend of lily
father's residing in the wild and roman
tic district of West Carbury, in the south
ern part of Ireland. lie wrote, begging
me, to pay him a visit, saying that not h
ing would give him greater pleasure than
welcome the sun el his highly esteemed
friend to his heart and hotue.
I confess to the weakness of a slight
moisture in my eyes upon the perusal of
this affectionate epistle. Ttiu.e who are
surrounded by myriads uf tried and true
friends may smile at this unmanly mani
festation ; but. others in similar circum
stances will understand the tide of feel
ing that rushed to my heart, warming it
to-,the world and my t tellow men.
My preparations were soon completed,
and with a bouyaney of spirit, to which I
had long Lem a sminger, I started on toy
journey. \Vile! f reached my destina
tion, 1 could se free myself with
the gloomy lint bid beiog of a short time
back.
As the carriage roiled slowly up the
avenue, I leolaoJple opportunity ut tak
ing a survey ul the premises.
Glenrue was a large rambling mansion,
seemingly many cctituries old. The right,
win , was only inhabited, the left being
much decayed and covered with the green
clinging ivy. Tire lawn was closely sha
ven and adorned with shrubbery.
Mr. Glenn stood in the open doorway,
and in a few moments I was folded in his
fatherly embrace.
"God bless you, tny boy'" lie said, in
a tone lull of emotion, "you are heartily
welcome, and we will du everything in
our power to contribute to your pleasure
during your stay. I will show you to
your room Harold," he continued, "and
leave you to wake preparations fur din
ner. We dine precisely at three, being
too unfashionable fur sour late English
dinners."
Alas ! if lie had foreseen the sorrow
and misery that my coming brought,
would not his blessing have been turned
into a curse, and he sotamer seen Inc fall
dead at his feet than to have crossed his
threshold 7 But lam anticipating. My
room Was cool and commodious, and af
forded a fine view of the distant moon
tains, clearly defined against the deep
blue sky. I wan not at all addicted to a
long and elabura . c toilette, and had com
pleted my preparations when Mr. Glenn
wade his appearance and led the way to
the dining hall.
"My daughters, Harold! I hope you
will become good friends," was the rath
er unceremonious introduction as we en
tered, and we were soon seated at the hos
pitable board, all restraint being effect
ually banished by Mr. Glenn's frank man
ner and ready conversatioo.
Edith Glenn, the elder of the two sin•
tors, would have been gennerally termed a
beautiful woman. She wore a regal look
with her high white brow, raven hair,
and dark, flashing eye 9, but there was an
expression lingering around the chiseled
lips that marred their beauty.
But Maud ! how,can I discribe her ?
_She: ,was dillerenekrom any woman that I
had, ever. met with. A soft charm, a
romelpes,..undefitiable something prevad
mis ,herz.every word and action, that 'VMS
irrc§igibly AttractitT. 7 .11313 Leavy mass
en,, of golden hair, twined around the
small, shapely head, seemed almost too
heavy for the slight drooping figure ; and
the eyes, half bid by their snowy lids and
lolig• lashes reminded me of purple
When we repaired to the drawing-roots,
Maud seated herielf on a low cushion and
bent over her embroidery. Edith; taking
stand at the open window, beckoned
me to her sidi3 with a bright smile.
do'ythi tbinkOf 'our ecenery,
MiTAahly'? - -- Are - rot ---- some - poriions: of
ittgrandly suhlirrier - 7
"I can readily share. your admiration,
Miss Glenn, for nay& rarely . , if ever,
scoalt equalled," I
~ !You may wonder.at our Selecting Such
'".a secluded situation, ;,wo have re-
VOL. 64.
A. K. RIIEEM, Editor & Proprietor
sided here only the last few years. _I
have proved by experience that the truest
happiness is to be found in retirement."
Dlr. Glenn's countenance wore a trou
bled look, and he sighed heavily as he
spoke.
"You have quite a rambling building,"
I remarked. "Have you ever explored
the unused left wing ? Is there not
some weird tale attached ?"
"I believe there are some reports in re
gard to it," answered Mr. Glenn, " but I
consider them of no importance, and had
never sufficient curiosity to penetrate its
gloomy recesses "
Conversing upon varied topics, my first
evening at Glenrue passed swiftly and
pleasantly away. Each coming day was
replete with pleasure. We walked, rode,
and sailed, and Maud would charm away
the evenings by WM Wing svieet songs,
while her white fingers swept the chords
of her harp.
I loved Maud Glenn. That my love
was returned, I did not doubt. I read it
in the drooping of the violet eyes, the
varying color of the soft cheek, and the
trembling of the little white hand when
it ehanc_id to meet lily own.
Orle evening, a 3 we stood together in
the recess or one of the large windows,
with the moonlight falling upon Maul's
giddea hair and flooding the room with
its pile light, I toll her of lily love.
She wag far too frank and t ue-hearted
fur c luetry. She simply la d her hand
in mime. 1 needed no other answc:r.—
For a lung time we stood there, talking
unlit! future —our /'inure—when sudden
ly a Shadow fell across the moonlight up
on the floor. I glanced around and
caught a glimpse of Edith gliding front
the room. 11cr face was deathly pale,
and her eyes had a strange,
_wild glitter
I endeavored to reason myself into the
bLiief that it was the effect of my imagi
nation, and in my newfound ILippinces
the remenWrance soon ladufl fruit my
mild. But when it was too ,ate the cir
cumstances returned with startling dis
tinctriess.
Oh: the gloriously happy days that
followed ! Ifow bri , ht a drtam to have
so terrible an ilwaking! But why should
I dwell upon this blissful period, it. but
renders the glOOlll of the present deeper
by contrast.
Ihe fatal day was fast approaching
which was to wreck toy happiiicss foray
er.
Mr. Glenn was a great sportsman, and
one fine worning aS we lingered ever the
breakfast table he remarkvd—.
"A glorious day for a hunt, 'Harold.
It wou,d be a good idea to take our gulls
and dugs, and devote the whole day to
tl e sport."
I yielded a ready assent, and we were
somi ei l uipped and id. We net with ex
cellent success, and returned to Glenrue
late that night, after the household had
retired, feeling quite fatigued with our
lung tramp.
Early the next morning I hurried to
the drawing room, eNpecting to find Maud
prepared for our accustomed before break
fast ramble. But the room was empty,
and I impatiently seated myself in our
favorite recess, thinking each moment to
see the flutter of her white dress in the
doorway. she lingered ; and lean.
ing my head upon my hands, 1 fell into a
pleasant reverie.
"Awaiting )laud ?"
The words were lightly and mocking
ly spoken. I started up. Edith stood
before tue, a will light in her eye, and a
bitter smile curling her lip.
"Listen," she continued, "now that my
ends are accomplished and my revenge
complete, I. have a revelation to wake."
I ler words and looks were totally incom
prehensible, and I was about to speak, but
she silenced we with a gesture.
"Hear me !hi ough," she said, "and
witness my triumph. Front the first mo
ment that we met I loved you with a love
that illitifs cold gentle nature could nev
or fathom. You would have learned to
love me in return, but she stopped be
tween us, and I hated her for it. While
my heart was torn with conflicting emo
tions, you two were happy; but my time
had yet to come. My hate grew deeper
day by day, and I felt sooner than she
shoull possess your love I would make
any sacrifice; No one ever dreamed nor
did I reveal, that I had explored the un
used left wing and wade the discovery of
a serrel room. It was a wonderful piece
of mechanism. 13y touching a small
spring a door would fly back from the
seemingly unbroken surface of wall, re
vealing a room df small dimensions. It
was perfeCtly Ulf-tight, with solid double
walls through which no shriek or groan
could penetrate. With the door closed
upon a human being life would become
excited within fifteen hours. Doubtless
it had had its scores of victims My
plans were all formed, and yesterday an
opportunity was offered to carry then in
to.
effect. teuiptedM'aud to this secret
room, and while she was wonderingly sur
veying it, with her back turned to me I
stole away and touched the spring the
door flew back in its place, arid I left her
alone to darkness and death. Alt that
night in imagination I heard her shrieks
and moans and calls for help: Beheld
her beating the' wall endeavoring to dis
cover the spring, and pictured her des
pair at finding her attempts all vain.—
But. there was no pity in 'my heart, for
had she not robbed use of happiness.
I stood bOire her as she spoke like
some statue, each terrible word falling up
on my heart like lead, but without a ra
lilizir% sense.—
yosi not comprehend ? Perhaps
It seems incredible. Then come- and
see.' S " • •
• Like one in a hideous dream, I followed
her almost mechanically as she led the
way to the hift wing. The key was up-
b t
plied to the rug I lock the door swung
back with a grating sound, and we en
tered.
. Onward we went up the creaking stairs
and through the lun g corridors. At
length she paused, and touching an al
most concealed spring in the wall a door
flew back.
_Extended upon the bare floor, with
her long golden hair flailing around her
like a shroud, lay Maud, my Maud, cold
and dead. To spring to her side and
lift the drooping head to my bosom was
the work of a moment. 1 could not be
lieve that life was reilly extinct I es
sayed to lift the firm to bear it to
tire fresh air, but all tlooes SWIIIII before
toy sight, and I found ob i vi(in from my
wretchedness in insensibility.
When I recovered consciousness I was
lyi ng in lied in my own room, and the
family physician of Glenrue bending over
me.
"I aril glad to find you better Mr. Ash
ley," he said cheeringly. '•I hope you
will soon entirely reenver.' ?
The whole or the terrible past rushed
upon my mind with lightuing-like rapdi
dity.
Ilave I been sick lon , •?" I asked
"Several weeks," was the reply
"Doctor," I slid, "anything is prefera
ble to this tnrturing suspense. -What of
Maud '!"
(Its tunes were full of deep sadness as
he replied--
"We con but bow submi! , ,sive to the
Divine will, i\lr. A hley , knowing 'lie
doeth all well."
had intuitively felt that all hope was
over, but the shock of' having my worse
fears confirmed was a bitter one
"Arid Mr tili:nn and —" lips could
not frame Edith's name, and the words,
died away.
" (llenn is also c:ead. l:lith i+
Impales: 4y insane and c.,nfined in the asy
lum "
"Insane'" I shudderingly ejaculated
"I suppose you re not ai•rluaint d with
Mr Glenn's early history, for he rarely
spoke of it. W hen young'he was a weal
traveler, and while sojourning in Italy
wedded an Italian I dy, very beautiful,
but or a fiery, passionate natur , . She
died insane, leaving one little girl. Mr.
Glenn returned to England, and after the
expiration of a fev,7 ye.ir-i again married
His second wife wa4 frail and delicate,
and in a short Gum he was again a wid
ower with two motherless daughters.—
A Imost broken hearted and weary of the
world, he carne to,, Glenrue, fAr pin to
find in solitude sonic balm for his woun
ded spirit.
"Ile has long feared the developnwnt
01 this terrible malady in his elder daugh
ter, but little imagined that it would be
attended by such a result. Upon the
day of that sad occurrence, Mr. Glenn
was startled by a loud and piercing shriek.
The door of the left wing was found (men,
and, guided by a second shriek, he hur
ried to when( e that fatal sound proceed
ed. In that fatal room you were discov
ered, lying insensible by Maud's lifeless
body, with Edith benoing over you.
Front her ravings it was comprehended
that in a fit of insanity she had immured
her sister within a living tomb, and when
4/ Was uver acquainted you with the air
ful fact. Mr. Glenn never recovered
from the shock. /./ci- name was the last
upon his lips."
As he concluded. I averted my head
rind endeavored to shut out light , soon
and "even thought.
'My constitution was strong and vigor.
ous, and I recovered rapidly. In a few
weeks I turned my back upon the scene
of this terrible tragedy, and left Glenrue
forever.
When Martin Luther threw his cares
aside from time to time, and played on
his flute, and je-ted with his friends,
gambolled with his children, or gave him
self up with delight to the songs of birds
and all the joyful restorative influences
of nature, he thus kept his soul sweet,
and Iris powers fresh, so as to renew at
the fitting tiinc, and, finish the work
which had been given him to do.
Here we see the true place and office
of amusement. They are not the busi
ness of life, but interludes, recreations,
refreshments, thrown in at intervals to
save us from being utterly broken down
by unceasing and perpetual toil. While
we study or labor, while we do our part
to work or to prepare ourselves for work,
we have a right, tiny, it is our duty, as
well us our privilege, to give ourselves up
from time to time, to amusements.
But when amusement•r become the
ciief thing, when they take the place of
the serious duties which God has impo , ed
on every man whom he has created, then
they undermine our principles and im•
pair our faith in whatever is noblest in
virtue, or most holyin i _roligion._ The
soul which lays upon itself no obligations
and seeks no higher ends, is lost. Even
poetry, and music and•artisobeautiful in
their place as the hand-maids of religion,
only lead into the paths of death when
they withdraw from her guidance, and
demand for themselves the worship
which is duo to God alone.
This, too, is the ruinous effectof an ed
ucation of accomplishments. The edu
cation of taste, and the cultivation of the
feelings, in undue proportion, destroy the
masculine tone of the mind An educa
tion chiefly rOmantic, or poetical, and
nVelmlanced by bard, practical life, is
simply the ruin of the soul.
And when such' . has become the
actor of the community , when rethetic
tastes litivo ,
greater influence' • than the
lova of truth, and amusements are ab
lowed to stand 'in the place of • better
things, then, 'no matter what. external
show - of prosperity or refinement there
oilrlissk
CARLISLE, PA., FRIDAY, FEBRUARY '26, 1864.
Amusements
may be, the doom of that community is
sealed.
For in the language of an able histo
rian, " Neither in sacred or profane his
tory—neither in the monarchies of the
East, nor the free commonwealths of the
Western world—neither in Egyptian,
Grocian,liornan, Italian, Sardinian, or
any other chronicles—could an exception
be found to the law whin-Ir dooms to ruin
any people, who aband,ning the duties
for the delights of this transitory state,
live only in the frivolities of He, and
find only the means of a dissolute and
emasculate self indulgence in God's best
gifts to loan—in wealth, and leisure, and
s.rciety, in erudition, and art and science,
in literature, and philosophy and elo
quence!, in the domestic affections which .
should bless °ler existence, and in the
worship by which it should be consecra
ted."
BRIDGET
She has been sketched often enough
by the children of the pen and pencil,
generally with due proportion of exagger
ation, but the truth has hardly been told
about hcr.
She came here in the steera g e of an
emigrant ship, after a weary five weeks'
voyage, in company with three or four
hundred of her country iblk, male and
feinale,t of all ages, front the toothless
crone of sen.enty-live to ate baby at the
breast. %:os• of their pas9ge-money had
been remitted from this side of the At
lantic by relatives who 11114 e worked very
hard for it, amassing it patiently, cent by
cent, dollar by dollar. The voyage is
marked by pri .ation, squalor and discom.
fort, the ship inadequately manned, tine
emigraws expo:ed to the irresponsible
authority_of s . adors
_made (Inc .
names of American skipper and mate
synonymous with brutality.
She land; at Castle (laden, spends a
day or two in a tenement house with
friend; or relatives, and then pays fifty
cents f o r a :-Cat, in an intelligence office,
which she occopys daily from 9 A. M.,
to 4 1 , , uutti she is hired.
She is very warm hearted and igno,
rant—ahno , t as lunch so, with respect to
household duties, as her young mistress,
who has heel married from a hotel or
boarding Inure, on the strength of her
petty Mee, ri3suranee and
smart appeamnee. The young lady de
spises Brid 4 et, and is at (Mee familiar,
eapriemus :old exacting towards he..—
She commonly talks about - eti phone Irish
Ciiklates" in a touch ~c,.larate man
ner than that adopted by .. 1 11.1thern plan
ter in speaking of his field hands. This
naturally endears her to Bridget, who ob
tains all her eonvietionQ, after her Celtic
fashion, through the medium of her feel
im,s, and who, in a land of liberty', in
time regards herself as good as any
body else, if not better." Hence, mis
t ess aid servant get into the best of pos
sible relations with each other
Bridget is industrious, but requires di
rcetion. She would prefer expending
her energies in rough work, done in rough
fashion, to the niceties of civiliz d atteu
dance These she dues not re a dily ac
quire ; she is vigorous and willing rather
than neat-handed. She puts but little
thought in her work, and thereby often
doubles it. Nur is she introved by vat
lent scut line.. which, however, she rather
prefers to being reasoned with
ller notions of cookery are simple.—
They consist in the general misuse of Cie
frying-pans, in conjunction with grease
and animal food, arid in (he incarcera
tion of the latter fur an uncertain time
in pot or oven. They are very similar,
in tact, to those of her mistress. Bridget
hardly waits at the table gracefully. She
is heavy-footed and large armed, demon
strative with the plates and dishes, and
hands things to you, with the best possi
ble intentions, over the right shoulder.
She absents herself from the room occa
sionally -
She sings a gaud deal about tile house,
especially while making the beds, and or
dinarily nev,r Muses a dour.
She agrees very well with one fellow
servant, invariably quarrels and soon
fights widi ono of three Within a year
of her advent into the United-States she
learns to speak of her class as " ladies,"
and to become rather exacting in the
matter of evenings at her own disposal
and the reception of her visitors. Sho
grows fund of finery, too, (an unusual
characteristic in her sex,) but discreetly
for she contrives to deposit at least five
of her seven dollars monthly wages in a
saving bank on 'the east side of the town,
to which she makes periodical visits,
waiting patiently fur a couple of hours,
one of a row of Germans and her own
country folk, until allowed to hand in
her book and money.
Only two things may •interfere with
this—one, the remission of hPr earnings
to "her_pepple:' in the . " ould country j"
the other, the indisereet" confiding or
them to some insinuating Terence of
Larry, who approaches her with proposi
tions of holy matrimony. Bridget looks
upon a husband, not from the feminine
Amerioan point of view, as an individual
whose unmistakable duty it is .to devote
his energies of mind and body to' the
maintenance, comfort, ease and luxury of
the superior being who condescends to
accept the title of his wife, but as a pre
cious, but presumably costly article, who
may reverse that state of.things. A pity
that some of her countrymen afford °en
..
.sion ler that opinion'.
Neither Bridget's organization or posi
tion is a well-regulated one, and her na
ture is, apparently Contradictory. 'She
has the simplicity as well as the'ounning
of ignorance, the cunning belonging to a
raoe aeousttuned to ho oorisid'ered and to
consider theneselves . as serfs for several
generations—the defende of the weak
trafil
•11 •• z • ;1 v . • I
against the strong. She is approbativo
rather than truthful, capable of even sla
vish devotion, but exacting and suspi
cious, impulsive but secretive. Her
most difficult task is veracity. She does
not expect fair play, and distrusts it at
the hands of others. When she gets
married, which generally happens in the
long run, she removes her trunk secretly
beforehand, and sends some friend to
state the fact and that she will not re
turn. She has a large family, and all
her children are extremely American and
profess a great dislike for Irishmen.
Miseries of a Near-sighted Young
Woman.
I am near-sighted, and an old maid
Almost any one would admit that one
of these miffortunes alone was sufficient
for any individual, but both vials of wrath
were unstopped above my defenceless
head.
I nin nearsighted and husbandless, and
am—well, no matter how old. No woman
gets so old as to lose all hope, they say,
and I am inclined to believe it is true.
I'have not been near-sighted always.
In childhood, I am sure, 1 could see as
_fitsm_any one who could see no farther.
At the age of twelve years I was prostrat
ed with the. measles, and they left me
short sighted.
Von' fortunate people who have good
eyes, and can see to read signs across the
street, and can recognize your friend
without the necessity of ctossing over to.
be sure it is the right one, know nothing
of tho perils and trials of a near-sighted
person ; nothing at all, and no pen could
picture them to you, were it ever so gra
phic.
All through my girlhood I was enga
.ged -in picking up pins and needles, which
proved to be straws ; bowing to people I
had never seen before, upsetting invisible
cans and baskets, and hurrying by my
best ft-leads, never dreaming of their pro
pinquity.
I shook hands with the Governor of the
State once, under the impression that he
was my une;e Jefferson, and astonished
hint beyond measure by inquiring how
Aunt riu umatism was, and if she
had good luck with her last bulling of
soltsoap. 1 have searched half the day
tor some particular store or shop, which
hail pissed twenty tittles without being
able to read the sign.
' Nature had entrowed me with a good
voice, and I was needed to sing in our
choir ; but goodness 1 I was so near
sighted-that I could 'not see to t'ead the
music unless I held the book close to my
eyes. and then the while the e tigregation
would ignore the singing, and whisper
loud enough for every one to hear, one to
another, “flow nearsighted Agnes Grey
inmicl is I" I could not boar the notori
ety, so I left the choir.
If I made an appointment anywhere I
was invariably an hour too la,e, or as much
too early, because, if it had been to have
saved the city, I could not have told the
time by the town clock.
I never dared to go out nights—not
art account, of ghosts, for I might have
gone directly through a ghost without
ever seeing it—but because I was liable
to dash iny brains out against any lamp
post that happened to be s anding in the
way.
My friends deserted me. I used to
pass them blindly by, and once I ran
away from my own father, thinking him
a pickpocket.
I stumbled over poor Mr. Blake, my
mother's most reverend minister, as I was
coining down stairs—never seeing him
till I. heard the noise of his fall.
Once I went into a strange church,
and there being no sexton, I very gravely
took my sca.. with the deacons, greatly to
the scandal of the congregation. I was
not to blame. The church was dark,
and I certainly took the head of the
tallest deacon for a woman's white bonnet
and veil.
At last I fell in love. Perhaps you
may wonder how I ever came near enough
to any man to fall in love with him.
Thorn well Creighton was my music teach
er, and I had to sit near him in order to
see the notes, you know.
Mr. Creighton was a lawyer in good,
practice—a man of wealth and influence.
At the urgent solicitation of my father
he consented to give me instruction—
and—and the rest was just what might
have been anticipated.
At the end or three weeks we were
betrothed.
Mr. Creighton was handsome, and in
telligent, and kindhearted, but he had
one terrible fault— he was jealous.
I used to drive him nearly frantic by
my attentions to - other men, as ho millet'
my lolling my head this way and that, Co
find who I should speak to and who I
should ignore.
‘V hen we had been two months
trothed Mr. Creighton was nailed to New
York on business. We had ‘ a very affeo- -
tionate parting: and—after ha had gone,
time never dragged on so slowly. He
went away on Thursday and would re
turn the ensuing Wednesday. •
Wednesday arrived at last. The train
from New York was duo at ten A. M.,
and by the time the clock struck the hour
I was in the front hall waiting for him.
I had dressed myself in his favorite colors,
and was confident of waking a good im
pression.
He mime oven before I expected him.
I 'saw him coming up the street at,n rapid'
pace. I opened the door ancVstood on'
the threshold ready tctnieet: `Fie
ran up the steps I rushed' 'inward .. and
threw myself into his tirnis, - trying . .Out,
"Oh Imu no' tejoieed to,see you I" and
then .I flung - my arms around , his neck
and kidsed . him—kissed • him more than
onee,'Latn afraid.' ° •
.• He did not speak, but hugged me with
considerable empressment. Just then
there was a wild shriek from some one at
the gate, and a woman rushed up the
steps and commenced beating me over
the head with a market basket. The
basket contained a turkey, some potatoes,
lettuces, and packages of tea and sugar;
and about my devoted head they all fell
in lavish profusion.
"I'll learn you to kiss other women's
husbands in broad daylight!" roared the
woman, slapping one in the face'with the
unfortunate turkey. "Haint you satisfied
with one sweetheart, that you must be a
seducing of my husband V
I looked up in the face of the gentle
man I had been greeting, and goodness
me I it was the face of an entire stranger.
And at the same moment I met the eyes
of Mr. Creighton looking over the stran
ger's shoulder. He was as black as a
thundercloud.
"Agnes," he said, "I have seen all.
Wretched girl allow me to bid you fare
well I"
"Thornwell I" I cried ; "oh ! Thorn
well l it was all a mistake ! I did not know
this man ! I am innocent—l—"
"Agnes, I saw for myself.'' he said,
coldly. "Good-bye l"
He turti . ed and left me. I apologised
us well as I could to the strange gentle
man, who proved to be the "oil man :"
apologi.ted to his wife; 'Went up to ray
chamber and had a good cry.
I have never met Nlc_greighton since,
save in company. He is married to an
amiable woman who is not near-sighted.
Since then I have had offers, hut have
thought best to decline lam afraid of
another mistake with some other woman's
husband.
do I can end as I began—l am near
sighted, and an o!d maid.
MADAME DE BRANDEBOURO
A brilliant cavalcade, composed of offi
cersand courtiers belonging to the aris
tocracy of Turin, Was moving along the
leafy forest rides that lead to the royal
hinting chateau "La Veneria." The
centre of this brilliant train Was occup•ed
by two coaches filled with splendidly
dressed ladies. In the first coach were
four, who represented the three stages of
life. Two of the ladies bordered on old
age, one appeared just to have atiainid
her fortieth year, while the youngqt
seemed twenty at the most. This young
beauty was the object of continued hom
age from a most chivalrous•looking offi
cer, who wore the brilliant uniform of
the Brandenburg troops of the Elector
Frederick 111., and W./S scarcely two-and
twenty-years of age. Ilis features w.re
noble and regular, and revealed the scion
of an exalted family. His extremely
tasteful uniform made his handsome face
look doubly prepossessing, and the only
surprising thing was that so young an
officer already bore the insignia of such
high rank in the army. This, however,
could be easily explained, for the young
officer was the Margrave Charles Philip
von Schwedt, step-brother of the Elector
of Brandenburg, and General in the aux
iliary army which the elector had sent to
the aid of the Duke of SaVoy, who was
pressed by the French troops.
The fair lady was the Countess do Bal
binani Salmour. She was the widow of
a colonel belonging to one of the noblest
families in Italy, and was both mentally
and corporeally one of the most highly
endowed women of her age. The young
margrave divided his time in Italy be
tween the two contrasting occupations of
love and war. 'rho Elector Frederick
111, afterwards first King of Prussia, had
in a correct feeling of the danger which
menaced Germany through the attacks of
Louis XIV., sent his father's veteran
troops to the help of the oppressed prince
The men of Brandenburg fought under
their Elector on the Rhine, and carried
the fortress of Bonn by storm. Bran
denburg troops shed their blood in dis
tent Hungary against the birth-foe, the
Turk, and decided the sanguinary action
of Salanketnen. Six thousand Branden
burg warriors crossed the channel and
helped the Prince of Orange to maintain
his position in England, until the fugi;
tive James 11, was declared to have fur
feited the throne, and the Oranger as•
cended it to rule over a free people.
Faithful to his defensive policy, the
Elector Frederick had sent an auxiliary
corps to Victor Amadeus, Duke of Savoy
who was sorely pressed by Catinat. They
fought with sreat distinction under the
command of Prince Eugene. The gen
eral commanding this corps d'elite was a
French refugee, Monsieur 'de Varennes.
Under him Margrave Charles Philip
served as_ toll'inteer, after he had dis
tinguished himself in earlier combats by
his personal bravery.
Immediately after the arrival of the
Branuenburger in Italy, the troops went
into xinter quarters. Turin became the
rendezvous of the different regiments that
would shortly . play their bloody part in
the field. Victor Amadeus, who was
hitrself of a chivalrous temperament, gal
lant) and fond of luxury, regarded it as a
special duty to render the stay of his
guests in his capital as agreeable as possi
ble.
While on one day the newly raised 're
doubts were inspected, or parades , were
held, on the next splendid masked balls
gathered together all the .00mmanders,
without distinction of rank.;,-from the
wild music - of the martial strains and the
rattlingof drums,they passed to , the .Be
duotive,''SoUnds of the sarbands performed
'by the ducal orehestra, and, exchanging
the heaVy riding boot for 'the silken shoe,
theY moved through the dune° with the
beauties of the court and city.
-Here it was that NargraveSharles
first formed the acquaintance of the Coun
tess Salniour. As he' was young 'and
fiery, the lovely, witty lady naturally .ex
erted a powerful charm over him. „.
that age, which was already corrupted-by
the frivolous tone of the French court, a
woman so gifted must seem doubly attrac
tive when she was seen to keep aloof from
any coquetry, and retained the unstained
name of her family.
Of this the margrave very soon con
vinced himself when Impede her the pro- .
posal to become his, without the blessing'
of a priest. An allusion to the idols of
the age, Louis XIV. and Charles 1.1.
was of no avail. The countess declined
the proposal nobly and simply with the
words : "Monseigneur, I am too poor ter
be your wife, but belong to too good a
family to become your mistress."
Still the handsome, amiable prince wan
not indifferent to her. Some time passed,
during which the lovers devised every
possible plan which the happy future
suggested to them. After the margrave
had pledged the countess his prinoley
word that he would never leave her, they
agreed to be married privately. The
countess admitted her relations, Count
Salmour and M. de Italbini, as well ae
their wives, into the secret. Although
they shook their heads at first, the pros
pect of the brilliant alliance aroused the
ambition of the family, and they confi
dently awaited the clearing away of the
last dark spot that showed itself on the
lover horizon of the margrave and the
beautiful Salmour. This dark spot was
the consent of Ellectoy 'Frederick to a mar
riage which did not at all harmonize with
_his brilliant projects of the Future. Still
it was believed that after the marriage
had taken place, and in consideration of
the countess's unsullied reputation, the
Elector would hesitate to demand its dis
solution. They were well aware of the
attachment at Berlin, for the margrave
had been Mlle time at Turin but they
merely regarded the affair as one of those
transitory illusions such as were to be
seen at all the courts of Europe during
the last half of the seventeenth century.
In the first outburst of joy which the
fair countess yielded to ou receiving the
margrave's mitt', She soon discovered a
way that would lead to their object. Her
brother had succeeded in winning over,
by a bribe, a poor advocate to perform
the requisite legal functions at the mar
riaze. In the same way a priest of the
nauae of Lea had been found, who ex
pressed his willingness to perform the
ecclesiastical rites. Both men had the
reputation of having been mixed up in
similar intrigues before. They were both
strangers-to the-countess, .and _she _only
thought of the fulfilment of wishes which
she had desired to see realized as eagerly
us did the wargrave.
Charles Philip had at once given his
consent, but, as the day drew nearer he
felt -a growing dissatisfaction with the
position ut affairs His cliivalrous char
acter revolted against seere-y. The only
ot'jeetiuu to his affianced wife was her !
inequality of rank ; he felt convinced of
the sincerity of her feelings, and he was a
suldier, respected not only becanse he bore
a princely name, but becAuse he had shown
himself worthy of it by his bravery; why,
then, should he hesitate about openly
leading to the altar the woman whom he
had so dearly loved, and who promised to
ftirui the happiness of his life T He con
sidered it an act of cowardice to slip into
a chapel by night with the wife of his
heart. Still lie did not conceal from him
self what a varying impression the cere
mony would produce of his military en•
tourage, the majority of whom, being ac
quainted with the bride of the elector,
must openly avow their disapprobation.
The margrave reckoned up the small par
ty of [non unhesitatingly devoted
,to him'.
The army adored him as a youthful hero,
and, as regarded the opponents of his
marriage project, he resolved that they
should be present when the ceremony
was performed through the were pres
ence of officers of high rank the business
must assume an official stamp. As it
might be assumed that, none of the op
patients would be willing to act as wit
nesses of the marriage if they learned be
forehand what was about to happen, the
margrave formed the bold resolution work
ing on their surprise, and thus rendering
them involuntary accomplices.
He prepared a banquet at the ducal
hunting chateau La Veneria. The high
est officers received invitations, and host
and guests prooeeded to the chateau in
the brilliant procession to which we allu
ded in the opening of our article.
On reaching the hunting-lodge, which
the duke had placed at the margrave's
disposal, the guests were led into the
large gallery, where a magnificently laid
table awaited them. Before dinner com
nieneed, however, the margrave proposed
to his guests a stroll through the pleas
antly sequestered gardens. The brilliant
crowd spread about the walks, and
Charles Philip remained alone with the
countess. The restlessness which had
seiz2d, upon both of them admitted of no
witnesses. They cheered each other, and
again went over the list of their devoted
partisans. The countess could calculate
on the unhesitating adhesion of all her
relatives, but the margrave, on the other
hand, was only' certain of his three adju
tants, AIM. Despreuves, De Peres and
Stylle. This small body, was opposed to
the far larger party of general officers and
diplomatists, at whose head stood the
Prince of Hesse Darmstadt, the mar
grave's cousin ; M. de Varennes, general
of the Brandenburg auxiliary forces;
Kalor von .Hoffman, de la Motte Fon
que:lii'd the ensign cavalii Colonel von
Hackeborn.. There was however, no time
fox_ further. _consideration.. 'ho dinner.
hour was approaching, during which the
coup was to be attempted. • . The countess
walked up and down,.the•gallery with her
Indies in a state of .;feverish excitement,
while the margrave tried to conceal hie
feelings by pretending to pay extreme at.
tendon to the most trifling details in the
.arrangement of the table, and so On. .
(Conclusion next week.)
NO. 9
COPPEIMEADISM CORNERED.—The Le
Roy Gezelle very cleverly corners• the
slippery Copperhead in the following cat
echism :
"Aro you in favor of the Union po
, "Yes.
giAre you opposed to the success ofthei
rebels r"
"Yes=-provided this ain't a"! Nigger
War." •
"Do . you think this is a (Niggei. War?"
"Yes."