ffloeti mt.
NO SURRENDER.
Ever constant, ever true,
Let the word be, No surrender;
Boldly dare and greatly 'dot
This shall bring us bravely through;
No surrender, no surrender I
And though, Fortune's smiles be &W I ,
flops ie always springing new,
Btlll inspiring me and you
With a magic—No surrender.
Nail the colors to the mnst,
Shouting gladly, No surrender!
Troubles near aro all but past—
serve them as you did the last ;
No surrender, No surrender!
Though the .kles be overcast,
And upon the sleety blast
Disappointments gather fast,
Beat them off with, No surrender!
Constant and courageous still,
. Mind, the word is, No surrender;
Dtttle, though it bo uphill,
Stagger not at scenting ill;
No surrender, No surrender
Mope—and thus your hope fulfil—
There's a way where there's a will,
And the way all cares to kill
Is to give them—No surrender!
piorellautotto.
.MADAME DE BRANDEBOURG
kCONCLUDED )
The conversation soon became anima
ted. The choicest dishes, the most cogt•
ly wines heightened the pleasures of the
table, to which the true princely sc,:ne
and the architectural beauty of the galle
ry imparted a certain dignity. The offi
cers, who freely yielded to the enjoyment
of a magnificent banquet, proposed toasts
to the Elector in Berlin, the margrave,
Duke Victor, and the allied army, and
on each occasion the drums and trumpets
were pealed forth in answer. The guests
had not the slightest idea of the surprise
that awaited them, and the pleasure had
attained its extreme limit, for every one
confessed that he had not. for a long time
enjoyed such a splendid and at the same
time social festival. Suddenly the roar
grave rose, for he believed that the right
moment had arrived. Ile stood glowing
with excitement, courage and love; with
his left hand on his hip, a goblet of no
ble wine in his right hand, and his hand-
Borne head slightly thrown back, he of
fered the spectators a glorious picture of
youthful confidence and grandeur. lie
expressed in a few words the joy he felt
at having so-many dear guests at-his ban
quet; he alluded to Duke Vistor and his
brother in Berlin, and concluded in the
following words, raising his powerful
voice as he did so : " This goblet, how
e'ver, my friends, I drink to the health
of her whom I love, to whom my heart
will belong, and with it ityrny hand. I
drink it to the health of the noble Count
ess Salmour, whom I have selected as my
consort, that she may share my princely
title with me. And I have invited you
all hither, my
the
that you may be
witnesses of the solemn ceremony which
at this very hour will certainly unite her
to me."
The effect of this revelation was al
most indescribable. The Brandenburg
officers seemed almost to be petrified
Some uttered hollow sounds, or cries of
surprise, while others sank back ou their
seats in amazement. Immediately after
the margrave *ceased speaking a deadly
silence brooded over the whole company
and the glad merriment of the festival
was checked. Charles Philip supported
the almost fainting countess in his arms
But the silence of the guests did not last
long; it had been the calm that precedes
a storm. The anger of the officers broke
forth loudly, and M. de Varennes shout
ed: " That is contrary to the will of our
gracious Elector, whose soldiers we are."
The cry was the signal for loudly-ex
pressed opposition. " Treachery ? We
have been drawn into a snare ! No rec
ognition !" the deceived gentlemen shout
ed.
Heated by wine, they were led to make
such menacing gestures that the friends
of the margrave thought it advisable to
take him and the countess in their midst.
The opposite party regarded this in the
light of a challenge, and in a moment
swords were drawn, an example the mar
grave and his friends thought themselves
justified in following. The tumult in
creased with each moment; with the
shrieks of the ladies were mingled -the
abusive shouts of the men among whom
the Prince of Hesse and M. de Varennes
took the lead, by accusing the margrave
of disobeying his prince, brother and su
perior officer, as well as of want of re
spect to his exalted name. Charles Phil
ip, on the other hand, swore by all the
gods that he would sooner let himself ho
cut to pieces than give up the countess.
" Follow me, madam," he cried. " I will
show you that I am worthy of you and
Illy great ancestors."
The moment had arrived which, it ap
peared, must infallibly lead to a sangui
nary collision. Attempts were made to
prevent the margrave and his compan
tons from leaving the ball, and swords
were already clashing, when an officer of
Duke Victor's suddenly appeared at the
bead of thirty men, and requested the
officer moat politely, in the duke's name,
not to disturb the peace of a royal chateau.
The swords were at once sheathed, and
the two parties contented themselves
with abusing each other ; but as they did
not dare to give the margrave further
cause of irritation, the ducal officer con
tented theMselves with arresting Lea,
the priest, and the notary, the responsi-.
bZllty of-whiela step-BL-de Tummies - took`
V,hip4ielf- • -
()Daemon:4, av,deep si'ence followed. this
turbulent interlude, The long gallerY
vtue deserted, ; night set in, and all that
cpuld' be .heard was' the T'olllng o coaohei or
the galloping - horses , : • hearing the guests
butsk tcithe city.
The same night De Varennes sent off
• , • .--
a,courter to Dunn to inform the elector
of all that had occurred. The next day
'be'Waited'on:Duke Victor and demanded
the arrest of the tuargrave n his Subaltern
and the countess. The duke promised to
carry out the latter part of the ,request,,
but decidedly refused to det, in opposition.,
to:the margrave, to whoni he wae,attacb
ed hy.the
_houds of hospitality and per;
soma estate,- Varennes sent , off: a see
-
NA courier to Deiltn, who announced-the
•Duke'e refusal'. .We must alliiiri`hovieV
.cri that Varennes, doted •as • an honorttble
seldigr. , Ll hie'report he Spice with the
VOL. 64.
A. K. RHEEM, Editor & Propr
greatest respect of the margrave and the
countess, and only appealed to his posi
tion as superior officer, by virtue of which
he could not tolerate any action that op
posed the interests of his sovereign.
The margrave had plenty to do in con
soling his lovely betrothed, but their mu
tual love seemed to grow through obsta
cles and dangers. The scenes at the Ve
noria could not fail to become generally
known to the lovers of scandal. But
though evil tongues were so busily at
work, the character of the countess and
the chivalry of her exalted admirer stood
above any calumny, and in a few days the
scandal was converted into unfeigned ad
iniration. The romantic incidents iin
parted a double charm to the whole liai
son, and Varennes soon saw what a dif
ticult position he would hold against pub
lic opinion, as even the officers were only
impeded by the bonds of discipline from
openly displaying their sympathy with
the margrave.
Charles Philip soon acknowledged to
himself that, if he wished to keep his
plighted troth, no other way was left him
but a private marriage. During his
strolls about the neighborhood of' Turin
he had formed the acquaintance of some
monks belonging to the Caltualdulse mon
astery, and to one of these, Father Col
owban, the prince became sincerely at•
tached. - He- did -not hesitate to avow
everything to the monk, and this confes
sion made such' an impression on the
worthy padre, that lie did not long repel
the margrave's entreaties. In a word,
the pair were married by the rites of the
Church, with a careful observance of all
necessary formalities. As witnesses, were
present the countess's brother and broth
er-in-law, and for the margrave, JIPDi. de
Peras and Ltylle. Heras drew up the
legal marriage contract as " auditor of
iris - I'47l6efdriil - G'race Of 13ratidenbiirg;"
and all the witnesses signed it. The die
was thus thrown. The newly-married
couple revelled in their felicity, and care
fully avoided gazing northward, whence
the lightning might b expected.
Every effort was made to lt!,ep the
marriage a secret; but how could,any
secret have kept in an age when every
body was-involved in intrigues of a simi
lar nature ? The mar! , ravo himself' was
possibly to blame for the discovery, fur
he at times found a relief in imparting
his anxieties to 5,.me friend. The p. es
emit) of the young Prince Leopold of An
halt-Dessau (after the old Dessau sr) had
an especially cheering effect upon hire
The prince came to Turin in the course of
his tour through Italy, and in this city
he formed a friendship with the war
grave. Charles Philip poured out, his
heart, and fbund a willing auditor in Leo•
pold. The young Dessauer was in the
same position, for before his departure he
had formed an engagement with Anna
Foshe, a chemist's daughter at Dessau.
He gave the margrave his assurance that
noboy in the world should prevent his
marriage with the girl of his heart, and
he carried out his pledge.
The margrave, encouraged by the
prince's example, began talking about his
own marriage openly, and, ere long, the
'Whole affair, with marginal references,
was reported to Berlin. T! , e elector was
excessively annoyed at the discovery, and
we cannot blame him for being so
~Apart
from the fact that he regarded his broth
er's marriage as an obstacle to- his own
lofty schemes, be was too remote faun
the scene of the affair to be able to judge
with perfect impartiality. He had, how
ever, answered Varrenne's first report
about the occurrence .at La Venera with
great moderation, and commanded "that
as little importance as possible should be
given to the affair." It is also certain
th -t the margrave took no steps to cowe
to any possible understanding with his
brother. He waited with resignation for
what would happen. At Twin the court
was divided into two parties ; while the
margrave's friends did all in their power
to express their approval, the opponents
of the marriage kept aloof from his house:
While the, clouds were collecting in - this
way, and darkening the sky of the mar
grave's nuptial felicity the political hor
izon was becoming,..eoVered with equally
menacing clouds. -;,The fury of . war was
already raging tigOn in the fertile
Of. Savoy. It(iti a two fold glory
fdr•the margrave that he did not allow
hiniaelf to be held by the silken fetters
loi7e, but, -remembering his name,
rushed into the field at the first call of
the bugles. Unhesitatingly liberating
himself from the arms of his wife, he.be
hayed nios,t daringly. In all the, actions
he led hitt' men, and at the storming .of
Casale ho planted the flag of Branden
burg on the conquered redoubt, and as he
fell from a dangerous sword-cut, hp clung
to the flag-staff, while waving . his sword.
dyed with the blood of 'the foe in his
fright hand. Borne from the field to Tu
rin,
lfe enjoyed tliii - fonder care of his
In-the meanwhile three dispatches had
arrived from - Berlin. The first, address.
ed to Yarennes, Oommended his zeal and
osanduet in' the affair, and ordered that
the' couple were, to be separated, by force
if really married, but the, utmost caution
must be exercised. • If the Savoyard au
thorities offered any opposition, Varen•
nes received ordento withdraw his troops
immediatelylrora the allied army. The
second letter was addressed to the duke,
and, contained a solemn protesi Against
the.. marriage, which httd been effected'
,without the knowledge' or assent`ol. the
elector. The third } -letter, intended for
the margrave, represented to himlasel
rious terms the •'impropriety of the,mar
riage the elicitor ,implored hiui •io
member his aneeitOst ana i '.e*C.ellent dOe'
tiny for whfch'PrOvidenee intended
The eleoterfraternally 'exliorted,hini to
. aet.as a man, ond , daorifioe hiolove to tFe
Fbv Kallis3• 11r
etor
interests of his country. In conclusion,
ho was ordered to lay down his commiss
ion as officer of the auxiliary corps, and
proceed without delay to assume a corn :
nand on the Rhine, where Brandenbiirg
troops were awaiting his arrival.
The crushing blow was dealt. Love
struggled against the iron duty of the
soldier and the subject. It gained the
voltory, and the wretched fate of the lov
ers was decided. Mier Varennes had
imparted to the duke the elector's posi
tive commands, and Victor Amadeus was
compelled to yield to the well founded
objections, while - the margrave adhered
to his determination, the commander re
solved to act.
he most lovely moonlight. such as is
only to be seen in the tranquil sky of
Italy, was expanded over Turin. The
church clocks announced the hour of
midnight. In the deserted streets only
a solitary passenger was here and there
visible; in the distance could be heard
the stumming of guitars, but this soon'
died away, and the small mansion of the
Margrave Charles Philip was perfectly
quiet over-shadowed by the tall trees and
shrubs. Only one window, looking out
into the garden, was faintly illuminated;
it was the window of the room in which
Charles Philip was slumbering, watched
by his wife, who, resting by his side in
an. arm-chair, .anxioualy watched- every
movement of The sleeper.
The poetic silence of the night was
suddenly disturbed by dull sounds.—
They were the_ regular footsteps of a
heavy patrol, which echoed unpleasantly
through the silent streets. The soldiers
wore Austrian and Piedontese uniforms.
In front of theiti,-A,rched tour officers in
the Brandenburtiiress. On reaching
the margrave's hotel, sentries were pos
ted round the building, and when this
was thine the reinaining 'troops paBsed
through the open gateway into the gar•
den, and approached a back door in the
house, on which an officer tapped lightly.
It was slightly opened, and the pale face
of a valet peered through the crack
"Is that you, Herr Von Haekehorn ?"
the surprised man groaned.
"Yes it is 1. Aceordin , i' to o - ir agree•
went you must open the door. Quick.
By order of our gracious elector I"
The dour was thrown open and the
officers stepped in. They gently ascend
cd a flight of stairs and came to a door
masked by heavy curtains. Ilackeborn
pulled the latter back and laid his ,hand
on the latch. “lt is here," h : whispi red
Charles Philip, who un this night was
suffering more seriously than usual from
his scarce cilusid wound, was being anx
iously watc'ed by his faithful nurse.—
Under guard he fell into a light sleep;
the countess carefully noticed his every
movement, raised her beautiful head, and
looked expectantly at her beloved hus
band's pale face, ready to do him any lit
tle service he might need. The sleeper
threw his head about restlessly, as if tor
tured by a bad dream. The silence was
only interrupted by the ticking of the
cluck. On the margrave's pale face played
the reflection of the light burnin g in a
blue lamp. The countess listened fur a
few moments, but then laid her head
buck on the pillow. Suddenly, she fan
cied that the door of the sleeping
room was being noiselessly opened, and
she peered sharply into the semi-obscu
rity Nu, it was no mistake; ti.e door
moving on its hinges, a man stepped into
the room. Could she be dreaming ?
But it was impossible. to have such a dis
tinct dream. She raised her hand to the
bell-rope, she held it between her fingers,
it was reality, and them ; several men had
entered the room. Light fell into it
through the open doorway . , and she rec
ognized uniform atietsmiteations. With a
loud shriek she sprang up, the bell rang,
and there was a busy movement in the
corridors.
• - The countess's cry of terror awakened
the .margrave, and he at once surveyed
the,threatening danger. He leaped out
of bed, and stood before the officers. At
the same moment the countess's woman
rushed into the apartment from the op
posite door, voices and cries burst forth,
a scene of confusion began, and the mar-
grave's thundering voice could be heard
above the disturbance. But amid all the
excitement, had Dorn remained firm
and unbending, with his left band on his
sword-hilt, and holding the duke's order
of arrest open in the other.
"In the name of the duke and my el
ectOr," he cried, "exempt, I order you to
secure the person of the countess with all
respect."
"Not a step nearer her," Charles Phil
ip shrieked, who had drawn his sword,
which was leaning again - St the bedside.—
He stood like a tiger prepared to Spring.
• "Most gracious lord, it is the order of
your brother and elector."
"You are a hangman."
"My lord
,margrave I can• pardon your
excitement......_Y_ou_are .soldterlikc
self, and Leak you whether a Soldier dares
to, hesitate when he.htus an order from his
master to.perform ?"'.
"Well, then," the! inargrave shouted,
"if we, are soldiers, let us,aot as itioh."
Man against =MI .121raWYOur sword and
we.will fight".
The gleaming blade in , bis ' hand de
scribed a circle ; and the margrave stood
before' he unothisoiotis countess, who was
being supported ' by her women.
"For I:4aventi' sake, my lord," MAW
barn cried, "come to yourself.: I implore
you 4 not to (gise any Brandenburg blond
tcrflow..,Aill May- turn out for the best
yet. lieflockthat we are bound to obey."
"Como on 1, Ceme on I" the margrave
one
"I,mt it coat my life," Ilaekehoin said
„
, I!sooner tban-
his.'.'' ! • • -
With a h
bold leap O'renobod Elie :,uiae.
.gt,4 . •
1,
I,o's slue, ama-nua muscular. tta!ld olutpb,,
CARLISLE, PA., FRIDAY, MARCH 4, 1864.
ed Charles Philip's sword hilt; The'iwo
men struggled together.
"Help me, gentlemen," theeelonel com
manded. "His highness is beside, him
self.—Hold his sword."
The officers hurried up, and Charles
Philip, who was still weak, was soon dis
armed. He defended himself desperate
ly against his assailants, who patiently en
dured every blow and stroveto hold him
Suddenly, with a loud shriek and a last
con vulsive movement, Charles : Philip sank
back exhausted into Hackeborn's arms.
Tne blood poured over his night dress,
The wound of Cassale had broken out
afresh. The' colonol allowed him to sink
gentle on to a pillow.
"[haven be thanked I" ho muttered.
'•No Brandenburg sword has touched his
heroic person "
Chtirles Philip opened his eyes; he
gazed at the spot where he had last seen
his wile.—" Catharine," he groaned; and
as if his low moan had reached the ear
of the beloved woman, the parting cry of
! Philip 1 " rose painfully from the
garden. It was lost in the rolling of the
hurrying coach which bore the countess
away from her husband to the convent of
Sata Croce.
A stately catafalque rose in the centre
of' the eathAral church of Berlin. Upon
it lay the insignia of princely dignity.
Hat,,aword, and_ spurs,_gdoves_and._ se.arf,
were surrounded by a gilt laurel wreath.
The members of the electoral 'tunny were
sorrowfully offering their last prayers at
the richly decorated bier of Margrave
Charles Philip von Swedt. -
Five days after the seperation from his
wife he was carried off by a violent.fever,
which the breaking out of the wound and
the terrible shock had brought on. His
love was his death. His body was con
veyed to Berlin, under a numerous escort.
Catharine - de Brandeburgi•as-the—Count=
ess do Salmour henceforth called herself,
was set at liberty itumediately,after her
husband's death. She had no fortune,
and had only the protection of her rela
tives o trust to in the world. The elector
offered her one hundred thousand crowns
if she would lay aside the title of Brande
burg.
When the coffin had been let down
into the royal vault, the elegtor and hi,
family remained for some time in the de
serted ehurdh. Frederick stood in deep
thought by the grave of his brother in•law.
fie waved his hand over it in farewell,
and quitted the church. On reaching
his cabinet he. threw himself into a chair,
buried his facie in his hatmik and hot
tears poured from his eyee..
~„63 hour&
later he was deeply immersed iti - Wsiness
again.—One letter especially attracted
his attention. He held it 'close to his
eyes, as if to convince himself that he
had read correctly. It was a letter from
Countess Salniour, and she subscribed
herself "Catharine de Brandeburg." The
poor widow refused the hundred thousand
crowns offered her
"Monseigneur," she wrote, "the honor
of being able to bear the name of Brande
burg is of more value to me than all the
treai•ures of the earth. You are too af
fee,tionate, too noble hearted, to feel of
fended at my imploring you to keep y-or
money, and leave me the name of my
hu,band, which is beyond all price."
Frederick let the paper drop. "Nobh.
hearted oiii," he at length said to
himself. "She was worthy of him Yes,
it is a name beyond price;
,and when I
no longer bear it, it shall ever glis en as
a gem in my kingly crown, and whoever
hears it shall be dear to me. Such be
the reconeilation between us, my poor
beloved brother! 1, too, suffered, when
1 was compelled to sacrifice your happi•
ness and love to the future elevation of
my house ! •
GOOD ON Artems Ward's lec
ture on ghosts, he tells of an absured man
who would'nt have any glass in his win
dows—he thought the sash would be en
ough, as it would keep out the coarsest
of the cold. This reminds a correspon
dent of a story that old Parson H., of P.,
used to tell of his experiences of the cold
on the night of his marriage. They went
on a 'bridle tower" to his cousin's down
on the shore of the Connecticut, and spent
the night, which was one of the coldest
of the season, and being put in a cold
spare room they suffered severely. After
a while his wife asked him to get up and
see if he couldn't find something more to
put upon the bed. After diligent search
he could find pothing hut hie wife's cloth
whiph he gathered up and packed
upon the bed, and got in •and tried it al
gain, but still they "gresi no warmer"
very fast, and his wife begged him to get
up and see if anything ,more could he
found and suggested that there might
possibly be something in a closet in ono
corner of the room ; so hewent and exam
ined the closet, and reported to his wife
that atiold fish names the only thing he
could find. "Well my,:dear,' she said,
-"put-it-on; •that-will-tanglo• the. sold- a lit
tle."
Last Sunday, in an Eastern village,
when the plate was being raised in a
church, a newly-appointed editor said to
the collector : " Go - on; I'm a dead-head
—l've got a pass."
We are acquainted with a "manator in
human foie . ..who says the only time u
woman does net exaggerate is when she
is talking, of ker own age.'
A man came into a printing office to
bog a paper. ' ‘, 4 13mmuse," paid,he, " wo
,liko to read newspapers v. 17 much, hut
our neighbors are all te - itivy to take
orio." -
A,wit upon leaving a . ohureh whero the
psalms had been sung in'a very %%Tail-,
scim
e manner , oblerved-to'hiebompanion:
.NO* I kriow )tce kill
DairitlY • ' • ' ' ,
Isior11)1,11
TERMS:—SI,SO in Advance, or $2 within the year
A Story - tor the Little Polka
DRY DA LN.
As Frank Wellman was going down
the street, one morning, be was hailed by
Bill Ridley, a tall rigged boy who was
standing in the door of a pottery :
Frank, don't you want to go to Drydale?"
Frank had long wished to see Drydale
In the town where he lived Drydale bad
become to be a bye word. When a boy
wished to refuse doing anything in a very
strong way, "I wouldn't do it for an in
terest- in Drydale I" Frank had thus
come to think of Drydale as some very
fine town, perhaps a city. He had often
pictured it to himself, its crowded s reets
and fine buildings, and now he had an
orpdrtunity of actually going there and
seeing all this splendor. But how was
he to get his mother's consent ? It• was
ten miles to Drydale. Frank was never
at a loss for an expedient. He ran home
went into the room where his mother was
sewing, and us he passel out of the oppo
site door said, laughingly —"Mother, I'm
going to Drydale." Frank meant to have
his mother think he was in fun, and was
very glad to see that she paid no atten
tion to his remark
And now with bounding steps the boys
passed down the gentle hill on which his
home stood, passed the small white Out ch
in which his father was deacon—a point
in the road which Frank never passed af
ter dark on a walk—there being just he
side the little adroit a burying ground.
But it was now bright day light and no
fear of ghosts.
The first five miles were nothing but
spert, but by this time the boys began to
feel tired, and every now and then look
ed back to see whether any wagon was
coming, on which they could get a ride.
-Presently-they -eatne-to a-country- store,
and near the dour a team was tied. Hop
ing it might be going toward Drydale,
they entered the store. The owner notic
ing their tired look asked them where
they were going, and when they told hint,
lie said he was going right through Dry
dale, and would take them in his wagon.
The boys were overjoyed and sat down
on some kegs to Wait for the farmer to
get through with his purchases. Hour
alter I.our pissed, it seemed to Frank
that he would never start. About sun
down the farmer untied his horses, the
boys jumped into the rough lunther•wagon
and they were once more on their way.
Just at dusk they came to a cluster of
rigor looking houses grouped around a
store a blacksmith sh , pp and a school
house. Frani' took occasion to ask the
farmer how far it was from this settle'
went to the town of Drydale. "This is
Drydale " said the Farmer. A very
heavy weight was just then dropped upon
Frank's spirits. Thi9 miserable hole then
was the fine city he had looked for !
Frank began to be howesi'k.
Bill's errand to Drydale w•ls to get a
horse which the owner of the pottery had
bought to turn his unit. They went to
the house where they were directed to
call for the horse, knocked at the elonr,
and it was opened by an old man. After
learning their errand he said to the boys,
"You don't expect to go back to night,
do you ?" " Yes, sir," said Frank. "Why,"
said the man, "you had better come in
and stay all night, its going to be Egyp
ti:.n darkness to night." But Frank want
ed to get out of Drydale as soon as possi•
ble, besides it was Saturday, and he did
not dare to travel home on Sunday.
After eating a howl of bread and milk,
the boys prepared to start for home. The
horse was brought out of the barn and it
was a poor shack Frank thought it look
ed like a Drydale concern I Not feeling
certain that the horse would curry double.
they arranged to take turns in riding, Bill
got on first and , Frank followed. on foot.
But now occurred, another ,rouble. The
boys had heard'thai th - e,re were mad eings
in Drydale• Frank couldn't go home
without going through the street, so he
buttoned tip his coat and keepim , r . a sharp
look-out for dogs on either side, he walk
ed quickly forward. As they were just
leaving the place, Frank, to his alarm
heard a dog running down from a house
toward the-gate, harking very loud.—
Frank thought his bark sounded very
fierce—he was certain it was a mad dog.
Bill shared these suspicions and succeed•
ed in getting the horse into a run. Flank
was so much frightened that he several
times stumbled down as he ran, and ex
pected every instant to feel the teeth of
the dog in his leg. At last out of breath
he stopped to listen, and hearing nothing
further from the dog, felt that ho had es
caped a great danger.
They felt that it would not do to go on
foot any longer, so Frank got up behind,
and they rode on. Frank now began to
understand what the kind old man meant
by f'Egyptian darkness." Thidk black
clouds had covered thesky. They could
not see , a hand before them' and their
horse was nearly blind. -Picsentlithe
rain began to pour down.' They bad to
trust their horse - to • find the.way. Pretty
soon . he mine to a full stop, and could
not be got to kart. • '••
Frank got off to find• the:way and sank
up to his knees in water.. He waded
around
.until he came to a' steep hill
which seemed to shut them in like
a prison wall. Ho called to Bill, and go
ing in the direction , from which Bill's
, vpide came, he at length got bank to the
He climbed up behind Bill, and
they concluded that they must stay there
uiatil morning. So Bill.leined. his•head
down ori the horse's neck, and Frank
leaned his upon Bill's.- baelq,ltnd.tthey
tried to gat to sleep. What made the
leavetisound so ginomy, .te-frank?.
hapa the cif ' iionsaiencieWas, blend
ing with :storm., Ah I how phialant
htinie•eaernimi to him' nerd •
But what was passing at that home r
His mother, alarmed at Frank's absence,
had gone out in that fearful storm in the
dead of night, and gone down along the
banks of the mill•pond, fearing that her
boy might be under its waters.
At last tho_gray Pght began to creep
down through the leaves, the storm was
over, and the tired boys could now see a
little way from them the road. They set
foimard. After two hotirs ride, Frank
saw on a distant hill. the pretty white
church again, and soon the large white
house, with its wide shaded yard, the red
barn and carriage house behind it, and
the store, just outside of the gate. That
home never looked so cheerful to Frank.
As he entered the house, his mother
caught him in her arms, and brother and
sister crowded around him. Frank d
. tol
the whole truth. His father looked at
his drenched clothes, his blue hands, and
pale face, and said ,in a grave voice.
"Frank. you have been pUnished enough.".
Many a boy thinks of this world and
its pleasures 89 Frank thought of the
Dry dale. It looks gay and inviting in
the distance He travels all through the
day of life to reach it, and in the even
ing of old age, when he obtains the
wealth, the honor, or the pleasure he has
sought, he finds it poor and unsatisfying
The night of c ternity with its storm is
now setting in—and, alas! for
.such as
he, there is no bright morning, nor pleas
ant home beyond.
The Fear of Animals
PreserLe girls from fear and affection,
which for the most part, find place whore
reason is excluded. Even at a very early
age you may cover, with a many colored
veil, many imaginary, fears; for instance
you way toll a child that the fist clap of
thunder he_hears is the rolling of the cha
riot on which ttiel,,ng expected spring
arrives; or you may yourself unconcern
edly regard animals which alarm by the
rapidity of' their niovements, as mice ; or
by their size, as horses; or by their un
pleasieg_, forms, as spiders or toads. Then
direct the .children's eye flow the whole to
the individual beautiful limbs, and grad
ully, without coin pulson, draw child acd
beast together ; for children have scarce
ly any other fear than that produced by
strangeness. One scream of fear from a
mother may resound through the whole
life of her daughter; for no rational discorse
can ex ii ngu imh the mother's scream You
may make any full stop, colon or semico
lon, or 0011111 M of life before your children,
but not a note of exclamation I—Jean
Pau/. ,
THE PROPHETIC nl•.w DROPS.—A del
icate child, pale and prematurely wise,
was complaining, on a hot morning that
the dew drops had been too hastily
snatched away, and nut allowed to glitter
on the flowers, like other happier dew
drops that live the whole night through.
and sparkle in the moonlight and thro::gh
the morning, onward to noonday. "The
sun," said the child, "has chased them a
way with his heat, or swallowed them up
in his wrath. Soon after came rain and
a rainbow whereupon his hither, point
ing upwards, said, "See, there stand the
dew drops gloriously reset —a glittering
jewelry in the heavens ; and the clown
lab foot tramples on them no more. By
this, ray child, thou art taught that what
withers upon earth blooms again in heav
en." Thus the father spoke and knew
not that he spoke prefigu: ing words : for
soon after, the delicate child, with the
morning brightness of his early wisdom,
was exhaled, like the innocent dew drops,
from earth into heaven.
MAKE A RELlNlNG.—Remember, in
all things, that if you do not begin, you
will never come to an end. The first
weed pulled op in the garden, the first
seed set in the ground, the first dollar
put in the savinvs•bank, and the first
wile traveled on a journey, are all impor
tant things; they furnish a beginning, a
promise,
,a pledge, an assurance that you
are in earnest with, what you have un
dertaken. Limy many a poor, idle,. err
ing, hesitating outcast is now creeping
and crowling his way through the world
who might have licld pp his and pros•
pared if, instead of patina ° off his reso
lutions of amendment andindustry, he
had only made a bel_inningl
NOXIOUS GRASSES, Kro.—Everifar
w.er well knows that his WO will grow
up with weeds and noxiAs grasses,
which impede the growth of his corn and
other crops, and oftentimes cuts off his
entire crop. While these plants appear
to spring up.spontaneously, they are very
diffiout to exterminate. There are sev
eral kinds of thistle which are all not a
like, some are easily to be killed by any
means. I would write, however, of two
or three plants which are sadly destruct li
-
ive to corn and wheat. The plantatin is
the mast encroaching of plants, and will
soon rot Out allin its way.teneO, whole
fields become covered with it, and clover
will yield up its place for intruder. How
is it to be killed ? The only remedy I
know of,ls to put buckwheat in the field.
This will clear it, but it will be effectual ?
Moreover, buckwheat is not a profitable
crop, and a lose will_ be sustained. An
other 'grass is the upside down grass,
what its technical natnels-I do notknow.
The name I give is, the only-One known
among farmers, 3nd that because in what
ever way it is turned it will take root
and grow ,vigorously. , : Corn and wheat,
will ,both succumb to, its, effect. , Buck-,
wheat i 4 the only,,retne,dy. Now,l wish
farmers, who know, of it good remedy, to
communicate, for whole, flaut: are cov
ered with these 'deetruCtuVe; weeds. ~.lt is
worthy of careful consideration-0f .every
agriculturist _who,does not neglec 4 •his .
farm'or . fermi in ,a
Coffee and its Substitnteal
Thcruee of isoffee as a beverage 840 7 teu4
to litiVe originated among the Turkkie
Arabia, from whence it was carried to
Europe in 1669. It gradually, become to
be a national beverage to Europeans and'
Americans, as well as, to theMpslems, and
it has been called 'one of the chief neci
esearies of life among the people.' The
coffee bean is the seed of the Coffee Ar
abfea, a shrub which grows to about the
height of 30 feet, but it is usually °UV
doWn to about six feet, to increase, th'e
yield of the bean. Its cultivation was
confined until within the past century to
Egypt and Arabia, but'it is now Cultivat
ed in West and East India Islands; also
in Brazil upon is most ext ensive acale.
single tree sometimes yields about 20
pounds of beans, and about 1,100 poundp
are obtained as a crop of an sere of land.
There are a number of varieties of coffee,
but Mocha or Arabian is still the most
famous. Its beans are small and of a
dark yellow color ; Java is a larger bean,
and the color is a paler yellow; West In
dia and Brazilian coffee is of a blueish'
grey color. Physiologists bave endeav
ored to account for the extended use of
coffee, by ascribing to it a peculiar qual
ity for preventing the waste of animal
tissue in the living being. Tys prinoi-?
pie is called eaff ing, and is composed of
carbon 8, nitrogen 2, hydrogen 10, and
oxygen 3 parts. Roasted coffee contains
about 12,50 parts of cageine. In roast
ing coffee great care should be exereiSed
not to overheat it, because the caffeine in it;
is so liable to volatilize. The best tem
perature to roast coffee is 392 deg. Fah.,
and the operation should be perfbrmed in
a close revolving vessel Whet, the beans
have assumed a bright brown color, they.
have been roasted, so us to retain all the
aroma that has been developed by the
roasting operation. Burnt coffee beano
are just as suitable for making an infu
sion as charred wood. Upon no account
therefore should coffee beans be so heat
ed in roasting as to char them: Coffee
should never be boiled, because the boil
ing act'on volatilizes the aromatic resin
in it, and this constitutes nearly three
per cm t. of- the beans. * It should be
ground as finely as possible, and scalded
with water heated to the boiling point
It can be clearified with the white of
eggs, or isinglass. This information re
lates to pure coffee.
In Germany and England the poorer
classes, who cannot afford to buy coffee,
use mixtures of it, and in many eases,
other substances as cake substitutes_—_
In Germany, dried yellow turnips and
chicoi y root mixed together are employed .
as a substitute; chicory is alao very gen
erally mixed with common eoffe in En
glauu. Lately several mixtures and sub
stitutes fer coffee have become more com
mon among our own laboring people on
account of the great rise in coffee. In
some of our country villages, German
families roast acorns and use these as sub-•
stitutes for coffee. Roasted rye is an old
and well known substitute, and so is
'Cobbet's coffee," which consists of roast
ed corn. Many persons roast white beans
peas, and mix them with coffee, others
roast carrots and beets, and make a mix
ture of them with coffee. In some parts
of France a mixtur , of' equal parts of
roasted chesnuts and coffee is used. It.
makes a very superior beverage to chic
ory, turnips, and all the o ' her articles
mentioned. The substitutes for coffee
are innumerable, and so fur as taste is
a were matter of cultivation. if any of
these substitutes for cullee contained caf
feine or a sitnioir principle, they would
answer the same purpose, and their use
should be inculcated ; but in all the an
alysis that we have examined of chicory,
turnips, carrots, beets, peas, beans, corn
and rye, no such substance as caffeine 'is
mentioned,
_therefore they are not true'
substitutes for it in a chemical and phys
iological sense. We have been unable
to obtain a satisfactary analysis of ches
nuts and acorns, but it is well known
that these contain tannic-acid, and it is
certain that caffein acid is very nearly al
lied to it, hence they may have a close
resemblance to coffee in taste, and per
haps in effect also.
NO. tO.
Old Mrs. Lawson was called as a wit•
ness. She was sharp and wide awake.—
At last the cross examining lawyer, out
of all patience. exclaimed : " Mrs. Law
son, you have brass enough in your 'face
to make a twelve•quart " Yes,"
she replied, " and you've got sass enough
in your head to fifth !"
" Who is he ?" said a passer-by to a
policeman, who was endeavorin4 to raise
an intoxicated individual who had fallen
inro the gutter. " Can't say, sir," replied
the policeman ; "he can't give _an ac
count, of himself." "Of course not,"
said the. other, with ap expression of
much .surprise, " how can you expect' an
account from a man who has lost his bal
ance ?"
A, mart, my be ever so poor, ho may be
ever.so unfortunate, but he need never
be hard up for, candles so long as he makes
light of hie sutfeiings.
A person who looks at the world in
somewhat gloomy, colors, recently com
plained ih M. Anber's presence how hard
it was that people must grow old. .".tiatd
as it is," replied the veteran composer,
" It seems;to be the only means yet dis
covered of enjoying long life."
The following hit at Southern army
contractors appears in the Chattanooga
Rebel. It will answer for more northern
latitudes; •
country Iwo Contractors oomoi
One chattel in corn, the other cheats In rum
Which le thigreater, It you can, expiate.
♦ rouge in aPIBIT, ore thief in GRAIN I"
Nona - a turn their noses up at this , ,:
'world,us if they were in the up',
of
keephig company with a better one.
A LITTLE boy seeing , a drunken • man„
prostrate before the door of a groggery,
opened the door, and putting in , his head',
said to the proprietor "See here,
,sir,
your sign has fallen down."
Ist... An honest man is the noblest work.
of Gad, but the edition is small. '
Pox.=-This fearful disease, almost.,
inseparable from a state of war and the.gath•
ening of large armies, is fearfully prevalent
in Nashville and Knotnville. In the toimee
place' there are' three thousand fdur hundred ,
eases I and the disease was spreading at the .
ra te Offik new eases a day. I nKrto.xville,
the disease preiails to : an alarming 'extent.