THE PILOT
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THE LAND OP THE LIVING.
HY J. D. BADDIT
I am bound to the land of the living
0, hinder me not on my way;
The sunlight is brightening before me
The flowers that bloom in my pathway
Breathe odors that waft me right on ;
They lure me no longer to tarry
But weloome'earth's time to be gone.
I am weaned from this land of the dying;
Decay is enstamped everywhere;
Earth's pleasures are seeming and fleeting—
lily soul has grown weak with its care.
The Joy-rays of life are remembered
Like sleep-thoughts that float in the brain,
The flesh and the spirit are weaving,
Each striving the mastery to gain.
I am waiting the summons that bids me
No longer a pilgrim to roam,
But, leaving the past in this death-land,
Make the land of the living my home.
The messenger•angel stands waiting
The,signal to wisper to me,
That the place is prepared for my dwelling,
And the Master is calling for me.
The lead of the living is yonder;
There life to its fullness has grown;
There sin, and temptation, and sorrow,
And sickness, and death are unknown.
There the songs of redemption are chanted
By a holy, harmonious band;
0, when shall I leave this clay-casket,
And fly to my home in this land?
(Thoo6 Stun).
IRENE ATHERTON.
BY CLARA. ELIZABETH
"'Tis not the fairest form that holds
The milcieet, puresteoul within."
"Why so sad to-night, pet?" and Judge
Clifford's hand was laid caressingly on his
daughter's dark hair. Mary started, and the
tears trembled on her lashes as she replied,—
"I do not know, father; but, after Dinah
dressed me for tea I sat looking out on the
lawn, and all seemed bright and beautiful.—
Suddenly a dark cloud appeared and spread so
rapidly that in a short time the whole landscape
was obscured. Then I felt a strange presenti
ment of evil, which I cannot shake off. The
shadows seem to have entranced my heart. A
frightful precipice seems before me,'and I dare
not look into its yawning abyss."
"Stuff and nonsense? Why, is that all?
.Cheer up; we will order lights,—and here
comes the boys."
As he spoke two young men entered—one
with the rich dark beauty of sunny Italy, the
other fairer, with clear hazel eyes and. waving
hair. But, while they are recounting the ad.
ventures of the day, we will introduce them
more formally to the reader.
Judge Clifford belonged to one of the first
families in the old dominion. His home was
a stately mansion; his broad lands extended
as far as the eye could reach, while willing
aervants waited to do his slightest bidding.—
To all but his daughter the judge was a cold,
stern man; but her glance and smile were the
magio key which unlocked the fountain of
tenderness somewhere down deep in his great
heart,
When Mary was scarcely five summers his
only sister died, leaving her orphan boys to his
care. Through the long years which followed
the judge had been to them as a father. Rich
ard and Arthur were unlike in everything ex
cept the love which they possessed for their
cousin, and even here their motives were dif
ferent. Richard looked upon her as a plain
girl of seventeen, the heiress of his uncle's
immense estate. The other discovered in her
noble qualities of mind and heart, and for these
he loved her with all the,strength of his artist
soul. But Mary, looking merely on the sur
face, preferred Richard, and was now his affi
anced wife.' Her life thus far had been very
quiet. From her childhood her education bad
been conducted at home, under the charge of
competent and amiable teacher. But now ,
Miss Marvin was gone—married. to her first
lore, a quiet New England clergyman; and to
night her successor was expected.
Before we iuterrupt their conversation we
Will glance at the new governess, seated in
Judge Clifford's carriage, on her way from the
railroad station to his stately residence. Irene
Atherton was the only child of a poor widow.
When quiet a little girl, attracted by her great
beauty, some wealthy ladies determined to give
her an education, that she might become a
teacher, and thus occupy a station of respecta
bility and trust. Accordingly they placed her
at an expensive school ) and lavished every
kindness upon her.
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GREEN CASTLE, PA., TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1863. NO. 2.
She proved an apt and brilliant scholar, and
soon distanced all her competitors; but in her
heart there was no gratitude for those who had
so benefitted her. God's government, she
said, was unjust; for, one had as much right as
another to fortune's favors. Now leaning back
in the carriage, her red lips curled scornfully.
a fierce light flashes from her blue eyes, all be
cause she, Irene Atherton, mast occupy the
humble station of governess.
As the carriage rolled up the broad avenue
leading to the house, the storm, which had for
some hours been gathering, broke forth with
fury. The rain descended in torrents; the tall
trees bent before the tempest, and red lightning
darted above them. But within all was bright
and cheerful. As Irene stood beneath the
chandelier, her hat.nnd shawl having beer, re
moved by the obsequeous Dinah, and felt that
she was very beautiful; and, before the even
ing was half over, each agreed that a noble
soul must inhabit so fair a casket.
Long that night Irene sat by her window,
looking out into the tempest; but she heard
not the thunder's roar, saw not the darkened
sky, rent with the fierce lightning, for visions
of triumphs and splendor arose before her, as
the wife of Judge Clifford, and mistress of
Linden Groye, his beautiful southern home.
CHAPTER II
The winter passed quietly away. Mary,
young and impulsive, learned to love her beau
tiful teacher. With her she climbed the diz
zy height of science, and drank deep at the
fountain of wisdom. Yet the same dark cloud
lingered. She eve❑ fancied Richard neglected
her for the society of Irene. But, as he still
professed to love her, she repelled the suspicion
as unjust.
Oue afternoon, having wandered farther than
usual., and seated herself on a high ledge,
overlooking, a deep ravine, she was startled by
hearing bee narne; , r The voice. was Irene's ; it
continued—
"Mary is in my way; the foolish old judge
wilt never make me his wife, but I am sure
Richard loves me. If it were not for her he
would have all the property, for Arthur cares
no more for money than for his cousin's govern
ess. Yes, I have it! a little poison in her
evening bevera! , e—thenall will be as I wish."
And, with a low laugh she passed on. Mary
heard;sone in'a dream. The future seemed
to darken around her. ,
"From the anguish of her spirit came a moan—
A 'avail of utter dreariness,
I sigh oUinward weariness,
Of confidence o'erthrown."
Frt;En a child :she' had the' strange power of
assuming the appearance of death, which had
deceived her most intimate friends; and this
she determined should be the test of Richard's
love, as with a heavy hart she walked home
in the gathering twilight.
Entering her likFurious apartment, she went
directly to a side-table, on which was placed a
small silver pitcher; containing her "evening
beverage," clear cold water. With a slight
shudder she dashed its contents from the win
dow, anOthenearefully refilled it. Soon after
Irene entered and began to talk with animation
of their studies for the ensuing day.
"I am weary and faint," interrupted Mary;
"will you give me a glass of watet?"
Irene started. The color forsook lip and
cheek as she handed the fatal cup. Yet be
tween her clinched teeth she muttered—"lt is
well," as Mary lay before her pale and ap
parently lifeless—as Arthur knelt by her side
in uncontrclled grief—as the old judge was
borne unconscious from the room.
Slowly the hours passed, until at length
Richard a returning footsteps were heard ; on
the broad veranda. "Now," Mary thought,
"I shall know that he loves me. The fearful
acting will end, and we shall' be happy again.
When he entered her darkened chamber
Irene was by his side. stood for some
moments gazing on
. the pale sleeper, when
Richard said---
"She is young to, die; but now , „ Irene, beauti
ful Irene, you can be my, wife. I never loved
my cousin. It was her wealth I sought. Now
that will be mine, and the only wife I could
ever love."
Together they left the room. Mary longed
to follow them, the murderess' and deceiver,
but her will had no control over her muscles.
The fearful trance continued. Though perfect
ly conscious of all thatpassed around her, she
was unable to speak ormove. She knew when
they placed her in • the coffin, with white rose
buds on her pillow: When they bore her to
tile gray stone church. She heard the low
pealing organ, and her father's sighs; felt his
last kls on her forehead. 13at when they
-- I
placed her in the family vault beneath the
church this dreadful consciousness gave way
to oblivion.
CHAPTER 111
After the funeral Irene left Linden Grove;
but darker shadows were gathering around it.
Judge Clifford was dying. A brain fever,
brought on by grief and excitement, had done
its work; and the weeping servants gathered
around -to see "old massa" die.
Arthur left the vicinity the day following
the funeral of Mary; but, with his hand in
Richard's, the broken-hearted father passed
away. They laid him by his daughter's side,
and Richard Leslie walked the old halls alone.
Spring, summer and autumn came and went.
At Christmas Irene was to become a bride.—
And was Mary.forgotten ? No. Her young
face often haunted the gallery of tnemory.
Once, at the twilight hour, she stood before
him. Richard fancied he drempt, as. her
voice fell on his ear; but the words haunted
him for many a day. They wero "beware, be
ware !" Thus a dark thretid was woven in his
golden dreams of happiness.
Again and again the same sad face met his
view. Upon his wedding day, in his stately
southern home, out on the broad Atlantic,
amid ancient ruins, and in the• galeries of att.
Irene saw it, too, and day by day the rose faded
from her cheek, the lustre from her eye.
It was sunset in Venice, and the rich mellow
light gilded palace and dome. Seated on .a low
balcony, Richard and his young wife gazed up
on a scene of rare beauty. Above them hung
the deep blue heavens, and below floated many
a light gondola. .
Irene dreamily touched .the strings of a
guitar, but wildly started as a familiar voice
tell upon her ear. It was Mary's, but her only
word was - "beware," as she vanished in the
gathering gloom. As soon as she disappeared,
Irene, pale and trembling,' exclaimed—
" Richard, I will tell you all. It is .of me
she warns you. It was I who put the poison
in her cup ;" and, with a piercing shriek she
fell at his feet a helplessmaniac.
CHAPTER IV
When all had left the church, Arthur, im
pelled by a strange attraction, returned in com
pany with the
, gray-haired sexton; tolook.once
more, upon his cousin. As the glass lid of the
coffin was removed, a pale face met, his earnest
gaze—
"Pale 6.3 IN wreath of fallen 8110 W;
While round it, like a silken veil,
Dark silken tresses flow."
Could this be death ! Even as Arthur asked
himself the question, he fancied she moved.
Yes, the fatal trance was broken. Slowly her
dark eyes unclosed, and wildly gazed around.
The old sexton fled in affright, nearly upsetting,
the lantern in his haste to depart; while Arthur
received the faintin..irl in his arms.
"I cannot go home," she murmured; "take
me to cousin Lucy!s." Accordingly they bor-.;
her to the nearest plantation, and placed her in
the care of her mother's cousin, a kind judi-
mous woman
The weeks which followed were a blank to
Mary; a page blotted out from the book of
memory. When the crisis 'lf the fever Was
passed, the news of her father's death brought
her again to the verge of the grave; and not
until spring had yielded her flowery sceptre to
summer did she again begin to rally. But
happiness seemed gone forever. Though, she
deeply deplored her deception, the past could
not be recalled; and the future, but a few
months ago so bright, now seemed wrapt in
impenetrable glooin. .
In affliction, as :well as prosperity,. Arthur
proved himself the best of .friends.. Indeed it
seemed quite natural to Mary that the love .. so,
soon rejected by Richard led the beautiful but
unprincipled Irene to the altar.
All this time Arthur had been absent from
Linden Grove, and Mary was believed to be
dead. Of course we need not state that it was
her bodily presence which appeared to Richard
in the library, followed him across the ocean,
tracked his footsteps on the continent, and whis
pered amid the fading light of that rich Italian
sunset.
Startled by Irene's shriek, Mary returned in
company with her husband, who waited in an
adjoining room. Amid the gathering shadows,
and while the bright stars looked forth one by
one, all was explained. Each felt they had
deeply sinned; but humbly forgave the other,
even as at last they hoped to be forgiven.
Together they returned to. Linden Grove,
beautiful Linden Grove. The sun shone as
brightly on the proud ancestral trees; the grass
was as fresh and green, the birds sang as gaily
L
1
as when they left it. Yet to the cousins it could
never be the same.
Years passed on, and childish footsteps and
childish laughter echoed through the old house.
Joy and mirth once more became its inmates.
Yet "TJncle Richard" ever moved among them
like a dark shadow of the past. Grieved at
his evident sorrow, they often tried to interest
him in their plans and hopes, and wondered at
his sadness, never dreaming of the darkened
chamber inhabited by his maniac wife, the twice
beautiful IRENE ATP-EATON.- Waverley Mag
azine.
LETTER FROM THE ARMY
HEADQUARTERS FIFT:I ARMY CORPS,
• • January 24, 1863.
DEAR PILOT :—Without a doubt, our friends
at home have been speculative and anxious
concerning the issues of 'the late movement of
the Army of the Potomac. It is over—the
boys once.again comfortably domiciled in their
rustic shanties, with pleasant ' anticipations
based on the probabilities of sojourning there
a fortnight, perhaps a month more., The-cas
ualties of this rencounter are, not so frightful as
those of the recent Fredericksburg disaster,
nor was the repulse occasioned by rebel strata
gem and valar. Mitd this time was the author
of our discomfiture ! Laurel-crowned Mud is
extraordinary ! GENERALISSMO MUD our tri
umphant enemy I! Facts concerning Virginia
mud are incredible, even to eye-witnesses with
their, crural extentions, by sad experience,
clotted as high as the genuflecting pointy -and
citizens of Franklin county at, home, could
scarcely conceive its positive depth and copi
ousness. We will just state facts as we saw
them, without comment.
On Tuesday, the 20th instant, the order WAS
given " to strike tents."= About . nine;the army
commenced moving; we followed in the even
ing about four. It was very cloudy, but no
rain had fallen yet. The guard had gone per
haps a mile, when they met a regiment-pitching
tents for the night. The duty of the Provost
Guard, on a march, is to arrest skulkers and
stragglers; hence we could not pass this regi
ment, es our place la in the rear, and the Cap
tain (who always has our comfort at heart)
ordered us 'to "right-about-face," and return
to our old quarters foi- the night: As wo.el
peoted to lea; o 4'llo, jrpinitig, we did not take
the ordinary precaution to-night in the adjust-
ing 'Of our "shelters," but sinipli stretehed
the, flies horizonitally and fastened them to the
opposite bogs. Gathering our corporealities
under this teaporary fixture; and assuming as
comfortable a " pasish" as possible, we' re
signed ourselves to Morpheus. About midnight
we awnke with rather • unpleasant sensations,
and were not a little " 'rigged" to find our feet
lying in three inches of water, and'our blankets
abundantly saturated with the same ' liquid.—
We hastily arose - and . " established a base"—
the soldiers term fora 'big fire, and 'dried our
selves 'until- day break, when We resumed - our
" onward march."' The peculiarities of Vir
ginia soil are such that a little fall makes a big
slush, aid by the laws of geometrical ratio
you'can have an idea of the effect a big fall,
like the present, has on terra firma here. 'We,
of course, "picked our steps" in marching;
and yet actually every succeeding pace sank
our feet at least four inches, and frequently
more. We remember the accounts given by
'newspaper correspondents of the " mud and
mire," before Washington last spring, but none
would have done justice to the present 'state
of " under-foot" in- this vicintty; We caught
up,with the army in the evening. It had halted
because it could not advance.. -We:never wish
again to:see the Army of the -Potomac in a
plight, such as we saw it this evening. . Sta
tionary cantons 'were eVeiywhere visible. We
saw sixteen horses attached to one in the vain
endeavor, to extricate it. Four more additional
quadrupeds of the long-eared species were at
tached, and then, by very much * yelling, more
lashing and not a small amount of army pro
fanity, it was eventually drawn out. This is
only- one of many similar scenes. Stalled
teams were numberless. Many wagons were
tongueless, and not a few in possession of only
three wheels: Just before we turned in forth
night we saw a squad of artillerists appropriLl
.ing several convenient dead horses in the
pacify of a bridge, the better to the
passage of their pieces over a low plat ; The
.scheme was successful. It rained all Ty. On
Thursday morning we were ordered iek to our
old camp again. It was still raiping, and had
Peen all night. About ten o!`clock we com
menced our journey. We thought we would
play strategem, as strategic moves are all the
go now, and flank G.EN.llup by taking a near
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road. But lo ! he is as übiquitous as old Stone
wall himself. We met him in greater force to
day than yesterday, and it was by dint of very
strenuous exertions and at the expense of feet,
rather mirabile dictu ! that we once more saw
ourselves at home !
The whole army was ordered back on Thurs
day, but in consequence of the impossibility of
the roads, its progress was slow. The pioneer
corps was increased by large appointments pro
tenzpore, as much of the way had necessarily to
be well corduroyed before they could succeed
in bringing back the cannon. All obstacles,
however, were successively surmounted, and
the boys once more occupy their old quarters.
We are not militarily schooled sufficiently to
say anything about the virtue of the more, or
probable strategem manifested by the Generals
who ordered it; but would modestly state as
our opinion, that it was well planned; and had
not the unfavorableness of the weather prohi
bited its execution, would likely have placed
the rebel army across the river entirely hors du
combat. Hooker, with his grand division,
changed position from the centre to the right.
You remember this General before the Freder
icksburg battle, wished to cross about the ene
my's fortifications, and come in on his rear, but
Burnside vetoed the plan. It seems as if this
time be intended carrying out this first idea.—
Recent developments, however, lead us to won
der whether the whole movement was not a
feint after all; and that the inclement period
(any one could tell from the appearance of the
morning the army moved, that a " storm was
brewed') was chosen in order to make it appear
that the weather prevented its being carried
out. We wonder whether it was not done in
order to prevent suspicions of some probable
future movements. This opinion is strengthen
ed since report has it that the Army of the Po
tomac is broken up—part of it to go to South
Carolina and the rest to Washington.
The rebels have their jests over our ill ono
cesses. They have, in letters legible, at a
distance, written on a board, nailed to a tele
graph post—" Yankee Notions, Burnside stuck
in the mud, with pencil sketchings below of an
army hopelessly endeavoring to extricate itself
from deep quagmires. They hailed our pick
ets, telling them, that if Burnside did not get
himself away soon, they would send " Stone
wall"'`with a detail to help him. Another ex-
pressive report comes across the river—they
have theye'on their hand-boards, instead of so
many miles to Fredericksburg, so many miles
to "The Burnside Slaughter House." We did
not see these rebel puns of which we writes--
Not wisbin& to bore your readers with a lengthy
letter, we are Yours, ever,
TO UNMARRIED LADIES
The following items of advice to ladies re
niainihg in a state of single blessedness are ex
tracted from the manuscript of an old dowager :
If you have blue eyes, languish.
If black eyes, affect spirit.
If you . have pretty feet, wear short petti
coats.
I/
If you are the least doubtful as to the 7
wear them leng.
While you are young, sit with you ' 1(
the light.
When you are a little advan '
your back to the window.
If you have a bad voice al
low, tone. ,i
If it is acknowledaed t '
voice, never speak in a hi. tone.
If you dance wel'7) d ~. seldom.
= ; -
' .14 you dance ill, n: dance at all.
Ifyou sing w e ll e puerile excuse.
If you sing i n . - rently, hesitate not a mo
ment, when, yo , e asked, for. a few persons
are incompet 'judges of singing, but every
cue is sem i 4- a desire to please.
I t i s a l sin your power to make a friend
i
by sm i 8 .-, what folly to make enemies by
frown
u are envious of another woman never
a,,,1- it but by allowing her every good quality
perfection, except those which she really
ossesses. •
If you wish
,to let the world know you are
in love with a particular man, treat him with
formality, and every one else with ease and
freedom. ,
If you are disposed to be pettish or insolent,
it is better to exercise your ill-humor on your
dog, or cat, or servant, than your friend.
If you would preserve beauty, rise early.
If you would preserve esteem, be gentle.
If, you would obtain power ) be condescend
ing.
la
N. D. R.
in
flit with
speak in a
on have a fin*