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Notices in the reading, col umns, fire cents a- line. Marriages and Deaths, me simple announcement, rani.; but for any lditional Lines, live cents a line., A liberal deduction made to yearly and half early advertisers. SLEEPING ON HIS POST, is night along Potomac's shore ; The toilsome march is done ; ,e tired soldiers tentless lie; And dream of honor won: The m"on looks full upon the scene, Silvering the dewdrops on the green. youth upon the outer guard Is leaning on his gun ; d, while he muses on his home, Ills dreamy fancies run— Where nymplicea's petals ope and shut— Along thy shores, Connecticut! e banks archung with pictures brig lit, Paintei by Hope and Love, id curtains rich, ofsolors rare, Are drooping from above ; Ali! still Minerva's spirit breathes In tapestry that Fancy weaves! glowing future rises there; heats the emmils t,f I me; And freshly to his leaping heart A mother's blessings come ! ills gun is seiztd ; the guard accost ; The youth is sleeping on his post ! " What! have I slept when I should watch ?" The startled sentry crleJ, While flames his cheek, and horning tears Ale sw citing to his eyes ; " Oh ! when I sought for honor most, To bleep V. itti Attune upon toy post !" Al! quickly &arm the trial on,. Beneath a schorching sun Sadly the sergeant of the g lard Di iplays the sentry's gun ; In duty firm, with pity weak, Tears smooth the furzow3 nu his cheek The simple story seen is told ; No quibble there, or flaw, For inertial men disdain CO warp The teachings of their law : And now, with low and husky breath, The judge declares the smite - rice—Death ! " 'Tisjust i 'tis right!" exclaims the youth; But, comrades, gently tell 111 y story there, where still they love The sleeping sentinel : I fear not death, but, courting fame, 1 dread—oh, God !—the shame ! the shame!" ! would to God, c. hen first the din 01' traitors woke our coast, '1 he axe had fallen on their necks 't% ho - slept upon their post'! When weakness quailed at Treason's frown, And dropped the nation's starry crown ! We plead foi pardon, and the while Ills doom has been delayed ; tt now the soldier's answer comes— " Ktample must be made :" And 'need] a blackened, weeping sky, They lead the sentry I'm th—to die ! heavily - his comrades tramp Across the matted green, , Halt!" isthe word—the clouds are rent— The rainbow gleams between : " Pardon !" along the line is sent, And blessings greet the President. stand Upon Virginia soil, Where rival waters seek win a place within the hcart. Of mighty Chesapeake: Where'er they turn, to seek his flood, Brothers ara seeking . brothers' blood! A nation's curse hangs o'er their heads Who, while our sky was bright, Ileversed God's providence, an d•brought This chaos out of light! May earth reject the recreant crew, And Heaven reverse its mercy, too! is lines are formed on Warwick's bank, And firm each soldier stands, bough o'er their heads, from mortar mouthss Death flies in iron hands : There stands the yoith we saw before Sleeping upon Potomac's shore. Chaise !” is the word; their bayonets The glancing sunbeams slit, o'er the yielding bog they charge The dreaded rifle-pit : So stern they look, as thus arrayed, That cowards fear to be afraid. irp crack the rifles; foemen shout ; Fiume-belching cannon roar ; ; Warwick leaps his trembling banks, Foaming with freemen's gore ! well ! this bloody-sweating toil ' 4, Will sanctify Virginia soil ! 12'.;ivf"rom copse and dell the foe advance, c4y - P.:i And pour their sheeted fire Our troops hove looked for aid in gain,' J c ii I ruitttn, lY yukritkut thintqthattia Punta' P6Oieb' 10 . VatitiCS, Nittraturt, AFicidtitte, Brill of the pa l peat afattliiynct, ft. And slowly now retire : Our youth is borne from bat • s brunt, With seven bullets in his out! They bear him—though , eir tired arms Beneath their burthen sag— Attd lay him where the parting sun S = alutes his country's flag, Which bow's, as bows the crested wave To greet the mermaids' coral cave. " God's blessing on the President I" Thus speaks the dying youth, As bends the stalworth low— That weeping man of truth— And bathes with tears that bleeding brow, So glowing once ; so pallid now ! " God's blessing on the President!" May his example stand, Of mercy, truth and firmness blent, To dignity our land ! Oh! while we need his strong arm most, God keep him wakeful.on his post! " He pardoned me, and came himself, Nor trusted other v Ace ; Perhaps it cheered his heart to hear Our comrades there rejoice: Oh ! when in death his eyes grow dim, God's spirit come to comfort him ! "'Tis true, upon Potomac's shore I stained my father's name : I give my heart, my blood, my bones, TO cover up the shame! And yet I fain would lie, in death, Where first I drew, this heavy breath " Oh ! take me to Ascutney's side, - And lay my boil.) where The rose-tipped mayflower scents the gale, And violets breathe the air ! And to my loved ones gently tell How died the sleeping sentinel." The past is crowding on his sight ; Ile hears the sound of home ; And freshly to his sinking heart A mother's blessings come ; And now, amid a mourning host, The youth is sleeping on his past ! They could not take him on the hills That smiled upon his birth, Where silvery firs and hemlocks fair Adorn the s•velling earth ; Yet still beneath yon knotty pines, They laid his body where • The spiced arburus scents the gale, And violets breath Bic air! • lid loving hearts may fondly bo st " Ie stecTs with honor, on his post ! A BLINDFOLD bIARRAIGE The elite of the court of Lords tilt XIS', the great monarch of France, wera assembled ir. the chapel of the great Tranon, to visit the nuptials of Louis, Count of Franche Compte--a natural sou of the King—with Lydonie, Duchess ae Batiizerne, a worthy heiress. The singular feature of the ceremony was that thebridegroom's eyes were to be bandaged with a white handkerchief. This circumstance excited the wonder of all. hied the bride been old and ugly they would not have been surprised. On the contrary, she was young and quite pretty. The King alone understood this strange freak of the bridegroom, and though much enraged, he prudently held his peace, and suffered the ceremony to proceed. A few words will explain the motives of the bridegroom. When Louis XIV came back from his great campaign in the Palatinate, he de_ termined to unite his son whose valor and daring in the war had greatly pleas ed him, to one of the wealthy wards of the crown. Ile proposed the union,to the young Duchess of Baliverne, and found her fa vorably inclined. She, had just come to court, having just emerged from the convent where she had completed her education. She had seen the young Count often, though he had never designed to cast a glance upon her. She knew he was brave and noble, and she thought, hand some. The bar-sinister in his escutche on was no objection. She accepted him. Unfortunately, Louis of Franc he Compte, who like his father, was some thing of a retrobate, would not accept her. " My son," said the King, " I have re solved that you should marry." _ "My worthy sire and most excellent father," returned the Count, "I have re solved to do no such thing I" The King frowned. He was not in the habit of being contradicted. "I have made a formal proposition in your name, for the hand of the Duchess de Baliverne, and she has accepted you" said he gravely. "Doubtless," sneered the young scape grace, "her taste is excellent, and how could she refuse me I Perhaps it would have been as well to have consulted my inclinations in this matter. Ido not wish to marry." "Are yon in love with any one" -"No I" "Then love my Duchess. She is no ble and wealthy." MA - i TA, PA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 1862. " I am your son—that is nobility enough; he bowed low as he spoke, and the King smiled at the compliment; " and the Jews trust me—what con ld I do with more gold ?" " she is the prettiest woman in my court." "I am tired of pretty women, they are always fools." . "Could you but see her you would be sure to fall in love with her." • "I never will see her," answered the Count determinedly. "See her or not, you shall marry her," cried the King in a rage. " If I. do, I'll marry her with my, , eyes shut," returned the Count. The King grew purple with passion. " Harkye, boy ! You owe me obedi- ence as subject and son. It is my will that you bestow your hand upon the Duchess de s Baliverne. The wedding shall take place this day fortnight.— Submit to my will with a good gr •, and I will create you Duke on your ed. ding day. Dare to disobey me, and I Will strip you of your title, and the lands Sou hold from me, and cast you into the Bastile." This is what bad brought t Count of Frenche Compte blindfolded to be married The King smiled grimly, but said noth- The Count placed the ring upon..the finger of the bride, but he did not salute her, and when the ceremony was over took the handkerchief from his eyes, and walked dehberatelytnt of the chapel. Lydonie pouted her pretty lips, and was almost ready to cry with vexation. The King took her in charge and con_ veyed her to the hotel her husband oc copied. " Here you are, my dear„' said the King conducting her through the apart ments ho had expressly furnished for her reception ; "here you are, at home." " But where's my husband ?" asked Lydonie. " Silly boy !" muttered the King, look lug very much annoyed. " Never mind my dear, he's-your husband, the rest will come in time." " What's the use of having a husband if he will not look at you ? ' pouted Ly douie., "He shall look at you, or I'll send him to the Bastile." - "Oh, no," cried Lydonie, "do not force him to look at me. If he has not curi osity enough to see what kind of a wife he has got, I'm sure I do _not wish to oblige him to look at me. I see how it is," she continued, a sad expression steal ing over her countenance. "Sire, you have forced the Count into this union !" The King coughed and 'looked very guilty. " Oh r' cried Lydonie, with anguish, "he never loved me then—he will never love me !" "Why should you care V", " Because I love him," answered ty donie innocently. " Love him "Oh, so dearly ; that is why I married him. I had loved him from the moment I first beheld him. Now lam his wife and he will not- look at me." . Lydonie burst into, a flood of tears, and sank upon a sofa.. " The King pitied her: sincerely, but what could he do ? He had forced his son to marry her, but he could not force him to love her. He thought 'of the Bastile. It would not hini love liis wife to seed him there. "Well, well," he said, "you are his wife. I will make him . aDuke, and' .I dare say you'll find hini home - before morning." _ 'With these words the King then'with- drew Lydonie was left alone with the sor row. But she was not to droop long.— She soon dried her tears and looked all the better for them, like a rose after -a shower. Her old untie came in, .and together they inspected their new home, which Lydonie found entirely to her satisfac tion. The Count did not come home that night. A week passed by and he did•mot make his appearance. Lydonie came to the conclusion that he never would come. She knew it was useless to appeal to the King. He had made French Comp te a Duke, bat be could do nothing for her. She determined to ascertain what her husband was about. She dispatch_ ed a trusty servant for intelligence and, like all wives who place a spy upon their husbands movements, she was not at all pleased with the news she re- . ceived. The Duke was plunging into all kinds of dissipation. He, was making love to all the pretty daughters of the shop keepers in th 9 Rue St. Antoine. In fact for a newly married man his con duct was shameful. " To leave me to run. after such a 'ca naile r exclaimed Lydonie. She paused suddenly. An idea enter ed her brain. She determined to act upon it. . While she is meditating upon it, let us see what the Duke is about. One night, about eight days after his marriage, the Duke, plainly attired . and muffled in a cloak, roamed through the Faubourg St. Antoine, as was his wont, in quest of adventures. As he tutted the corner of one of those narrow lanes that intersected that quarter at that period, a piercing shriek burst upon his ear, mingled with suffoca ting cries for assistance. The Duke's sword was out in an instant. Be was brave to rashness. Without a moment's thought he plunged into the lane.. . Ile beheld a female struggling in the grasp of a man. The man fled precipitately at his ap proach, and the girl sank into his arms, convulsively exclaiming; " Save me, oh, save me !" The Duke sheathed his sword and en deavored to calm her fears. He led her beneath' the lamp that swung at the punier. ' Why you are a perfect little beau ty I" he cried rapturously, and in sur prise. • The girl cast down her eyes and blushed deeply, and the Duke felt the little hand that rested upon his arm tremble. But she did not seem dis pleased. " Do you reside in Paris?" " Yes ; but we have only been here a short time—we came from Bellville— mother and I." "From the country, eh ! where do you live, my, pretty blossom ?" "In Rue St. Helene. 7 " Why, that is some distance from here. Will you permit me to escortsou. home ? .These streets are dangeous, as you have found, to One as- beautiful - as you are," "I would very much like to have you see me home—if---if—" ' She•paused and seemed confused. "If what ?" asked the Duke eagerly. "If you would only be so good—as to promise not to—to—try to—kiss me again, if you please, sir," replied the girl, innocently. The Duke was charmed. There was a simplicity, a freshness about this young girl, which pleaied vim. "I give you my word as a gentleman. he said, frankly, that no action of mine shall displease yon, if you accept of my escort." She came to his side and took his arm in confidence. "I am not afraid of ycin," she said, with sweet simplicity; "I know you are too good to Injure-me." The Duke blushed for the first time in —he could not remember h . ow many years—he knew he was receiving a bet ter character than he deserved. "What is your name ?" he asked, as they proceeded on their way. • "Bergeronette," she replied. "What a pretty dame ! And yon live here in• Paris, all alone with yonr mother," ' wir es! , • "I dare say you have plenty of sweet hearts ?" "No, I haven't one." "None," replied Bergeronette, quite sadly. "Would you not like a sweetheart 7" "Perhaps." "You must be particular in your choke, or yon would have bad a sweet heart. before now. What kind of one would you like?" Those sparkling gray eyes were lifted to his for a moment. "I would like one, if you please, like —like--" "Like what 7" " Like you !" " Phew 1" thought the 'Duke, " I am getting on here'. Now, is this cunning, or is it simplicity ?" They walked en sometime in silence. Bergeronette checked the Duke be fore a little .cottage, with. a garden in front. There was a wicket gate leading into the.garden. . • "Here is where 1 live," she said. She took a key from her girdle and unlocked the gate. • '" Will she invite me to enter thought the Duke, and the thought was ftirther to the wish: " Good night sir," said Bergeronette, .'•snd many thanlkkfor your kindneis." " She :fit a' was the .-Duke's mental reflection. " 3hall I never halls the pleasure of Established April 11. ; 1854 seeing you again ?" said the Duke. " Do you wish it ?" she said, earnestly " Most ardently." " I'll ask my mother." Au oath arose to the Duke's lips, but he prudently checked it. " Will you receive me to-morrow ?" "You may come, if my mother is willing--yes." "I shall be here, sure." "You will have foiotten me by to . moirow." "I shall not forget you !" " I have heard my mother say the men always protest more than they mean." "Your mother is—" The Duke paus ed and bit his lip. "What is she ?" asked Bergeronette, archly. She is—right. But I mean what I say. As sure as the morrow comes, so will I." "Come. Good night." She turned from him and was about to enter the garden. 'Bergeronette,.' he said quickly, 'one kiss before Igo. Surely my forbearance deserves it.' She made no answer, but she inclined her head gently towards him. For a moment she lingered in his arms, and then tore herself from his embrace and passed quickly through the gate: . -The Duke determined to follow her. When he placed his hand against the gate he found it securely fastened. Ber geronette had prudently locked it after So the Duke went to his lodgings— he had taken bachelor apartments. on his wedding day—to dream of Begaron etp, The next day he went to the cottage in Rue St. Helene. He-was received by Begeronette tim idly, and introduced to her mother, a fine matronly dame, who sat quietly spin ning in the corner, and allowed the young couple to rove about the garden at will. The Duke thought she was a very sen sible old woman. The Duke departed at the end of three hours, more in love than ever_ He came every day fora fortnight, and every day he pressed his snit. But there was only one way in which Bergeronette could be won—an honorable marraige. The Duke was in despair and at his wit's end. He had a stormy scene with the King, who threatened to send him to the Baptile if he did not return to the So he came toJiergeronette, on the fourteenth day, to-make a final effort to obtain her. They were alone together in the garden. • . - Hear me, Bergeronette, he cried, when he had exhausted every argument and found her still firm. !I swear to you were I free, this instant would I wed you. I will confess to you. I have told you am a'Dnke de French° Compte, and—l AM MARRIED: 'MARRIED r echoed Bergeronette with a smothered scream. was forced into this union by the King's command. I do not lore my wife. I have never seen her face. I left her at the alter's foot, and we have, never met'since. She possessess iny title but you alone possess my heart. Ply , with'me. In some distant' land we may dwell in happiness, blessed with each other's society. Time may remove the obstaele to our union — death may be friend us, a diirtirce may be obtained. and then I swear to you by- every saint in Heaven, you shall become my Duchess.' Were you free, would, yon really make me your wife ?' 'I have pledged you my word. believe you.' 'Yon will fly with me.' 'I will. 'Dear Louis,' she murmured, for. so:be had taught her to e,all him. 'I also have something to impart to you—my ,name is not Bergeronette, and I am not what you take me to be' 'What do you mean ?' have - a title eqtial to your own.' 'Then this old woman ?' - 'ls not my mother, bat my 'nursed' 'And the man who assaulted you?' 'Was my lacky, instructed for the purpose. The Duke looked bewildered. 'And like you,' she continued, 'I ant MARRIED.' `l'll cut your husband's throtut,' ex claimed the Duke wildly. ' I don't think you will when you know him.' 'Who is he then, and who are you?' I ani Prionie, D'nehpsa de Franehp COmpte, and you are he. The Duke was thVaderstruck. NO. 4. Lydonia knelt at his feet. \\ Forgive me for this little plot,' she ple ded ;it was to gain your love. If it h - succeeded I am happy—if it has faile with my own lips I will sue the king f our divorce.' 'Up up to my heart;' cried the Duke, joyfully, as he caught her in his arms, `you hay'? insured our mutual happiness. Ah, none are so blind as those who will not see. Little did I think when I stood blindfolded by your . side at the alter that I was rejecting such a treasure.' They passed_their honeymoon in the little cottage. and the Duke was not sent to the Basilic. From the Christian Advocate and Journal A RIDDLE There is now in this one—a prophet perhaps, we might call him—whose gen eration runs back further than that of Adam ; ono of his ancestors was with Noah in the ark ; another with Christ jest before he was crucified. He knew not his father, and was never nursed by his motbei ; he goes barefooted like a friar, be wears no hat, and his coat is not dyed, spun, knit, or wooed ; it is neither silk, hair, linen, nor wool, yet of very fine texture and gloss. He walks boldly in the face of his enemies, with out gun, sword, or cane, yet with such a weapon as man never had wherewith to defend himself from his foes. He is often abused by wicked men for their diversion but takes it patiently. He lets all men enjoy their religion. The Protestants are his greatest6nemies, but the Papists occasionally use him mercifully. At certain times his voice is heard by all nations ; he declares the day of the Lord is at hand ; as he prophesies, the doors fly open and his sayings are found true. He takes but little rest, and is admired by all for his vigilance. He does not sleep on 'a bed, nor in a chair, bat is always standing or crouched ; neither does he put off his clothes. His nature does not incline him to eat flesh, and he drinks nothing stronger than water. Though sometimes appearently proud he cares not for the pomp and vanities of this wicked world. He denies no article of the Christian faith. _ His voice is shrill and, piercing, and, on one occa sion, it was so convincing to a certain man, that it datw tears from his eyes, and he was not easy until he repented. APPOINTMENTS OF REAR ADMIRALS.- The President has commissioned the following named Captaine to Rear•A d mirais on the retired list, under the re cent act to establish and equalize the grades of line officers of 'the Navy.— Chas. Stewart, George C. Reed, Wm. B. Shubrick, Joseph Smith, Geo. W. Storer, Francis Elia A F. Lavallette, Silas H. Stringham, Hiram Paulding.— And the foybwing named Captains to be Bear-Admirals on the active list David G. Farragut, L. M. Goldsborough, Samuel F. Dupont, A. H. Foote. The law provides that the Rear-Ad mirals shall be selected by the President by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, from those Captains who have given the most faithful service to their country. CONCLUSIVE EVIDENCE.—SeveraI years ago, and soon after the "anti-license law" came into force in the Green Moun tain State, a traveler stopped at a ho tel and asked for a glass of brandy.— "Don't keep it," said , the landlord ; "for. bidden by the law to Cell liquor of, any kind." " The deuce•you are," retorted the stranger, inereduously. "Such is the fact," replied the host: "the house don't keep it." "Then bring your own bottle," said the traveler, with decision ; " you needn't pretend to me that you keep that face of yours in repair on water." The liindlord laughed heartily, and brought his private bottle. A- SPY-GLASS FOR WAR TIMEs..---The schoolship Massachusetts arrived at Hyannis OD Friday last, and sailed for Nantucket on Monday morning. 'The': citizens `of Hyannis were invited to-visit the ship, and many improved the oppor- ' tunity. 'One old lady, after looking ail' Emir a nicely polished brass-Cannon, marked, My Lor, what a hig spy-glass that is." MaTALITY TS. PLUMS.—A Western paper has - the following attrOsitilis vertisement ;".I'o Rent-LA , 'llettati ;oh'. Melville avenue; locatelf - 'llniaiortatey alongside of tir fine pluth-orchard t iVein4 which* au tibiindant Supply Of the - 4161;1 2 delicious fruit maybe stolen during'the season. }tent lo the greater part taken in plums." • • VERiParfic!"What," said Marga rita;to Cncilliihat, dearest, do you thiuk is really the food of Cupid ?" And Cecilia answered ".Arrowroot."
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