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I found, had charged over me, and were
in hot pursuit of those who had escaped
the first fire, and were fleeing towards
tho river, about 500 yards distant. I fol
lowed on after them, as I knew it would
have been useless to attempt an es
cape in any othor direction, (being in
the open prairie,) and I had nearly gain
ed the river before any of the Mexicans
observed me. Just then one of them
caught sight of me, and charged upon me
with his bayonet —his gun, I suppose, be
ing empty. As he drew it back to make
a lunge, a wounded American ran in.be
tween the Mexican and myself, and the
bayonet was driven up to the hilt in his
body. The blow was given with such
force that tho Mexican made several in
effectual attempts to extricate the bayo
net before he succeeded; and, in the
meantime, I had reached the banks of
tho river and plunged in. Tho river at
that point was deep and swift, but not
wide, and being a good swimmer, I soon
gained the opposite side, in spite of the
many balls that were pattering in the
water around my head.
But, here I mot with an unexpected
difficulty. The bank on that side was so
precipitous I found it impossible to climb
up, and I continued swimming down the
river until I eamo to where a grape vino
hung from tho bough of a leaning tree
nearly to the surface of tho water. This
I got hold of, and was climbing up it,
hand over hand, sailor fashion, when a
Mexican upon tho opposite side fired at
me with his scopot, and with so true an
aim that he cut the vine in two just above
my head, and down I came into the water
again. I then swam on about a hundred
yards further, and until I came to a por
tion of tho bank sufficiently shelving to
enable mo, with some difficulty, to scram
ble out. That side of the river was bor
dered by a strip of timber some throe
hundred yards in width, through which
I quickly passed, and was upon tho eve
of striking out into tho open prairie be
yond, when I discovered a party of Mexi
can lancers nearly opposito me, sitting on
their horses, and evidently waiting to in
tercept any who should attempt to escape
in that direction. I instantly halted un
der cover of tho bushes, and cast about in
my mind as to what I should do next.
The two most precious things on
this sido of tho grave arc reputation and
life; but it is to be lamented that the
most contemptible whisper may deprive
us of tho one, and tho weakest weapon
may deprive us of the othor.
Love your enemies.
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE POPLAR.
jjamMilßlß ATTIE was sometimes
allowed by the Doctor
to sit by the window
in a large arm chair,
' comfortably arranged
with pillows, and tho
j i thought it a great
'•Us f rea, f f° l oll t at tho green
vr* trees and the gay flowers in the
garden below. One summer afternoon,
her mother placed her in this chair and
left her for a little while to go and receive
some visitors. When she returned she
found Hattie gazing very earnestly at a
tall poplar, that grew just opposite the
window.
“ How prettily the leaves are dancing
in the gentle summer wind, Hattie; do
you not admire them ?”
“Yes, mother, they are very pretty;
but I was not thinking about them when
you spoke to me. I was wondering why
that broken branch hanging down from
the poplar looked so very ugly and out
of place. Tho high wind, a few nights
ago, broke the branches of several other
trees—see, there is one broken on that
peach tree, and another on the crab ap
ple,—but they do not look so ugly as that
poplar branch hanging downwards.”
“ The reason of it is this, Hattie, the
poplar branches all point upwards to the
sky, and that branch drooping towards
the earth destroys the symmetry and dis
figures the tree.
“ You may learn a lesson from this, my
little girl: just as that one broken branch
on the poplar spoils the beauty of the
tree, so a bad passion or evil temper can
destroy the symmetry of a beautiful char
acter. We should try to let our lives and
actions point heavenwards, like the pop
lar, and endeavor to have no sin pointing
downwards, like the broken branch. —
Even you, dear Hattie, a sick child, can
set an example by patience and gentle
ness.
“Do you know how these beautiful
pearls in my brooch, which you arc so
fond of admiring, are formed? They are
said to be the effects of a disease of the
fish. A grain of sand, or some other for
eign matter, enters in with its food, and
rendering it uncomfortable, the fish cov
ers it with a glutinous matter. Layer
after layer is formed, until the pearl is
complete. A great and good man has
said, that wo nitty make a pearl of sick
ness. If it leads us to think of God, and
makes us determine to serve Him by sub
mitting to His will, and teaches us to be
patient and gentle, it may in time be
come, like the pearl, beautiful and precious.
“ But see, Hattie, the light is fading
on the poplar leaves, and the breeze is
growing almost too keen and fresh for
my little invalid. I must close the win
dow, and with it this little sermon.”
1 hank you, dear mother,” said Hat
tie, “ and the next time I feel cross and
impatient, I will try to think of the bro
ken poplar branch. E. P. M.
Acoa, Habersham Cos., Ga.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
DON’T KILL THE BIRDS.
OME little boys seem to
think it no harm to kill
.gpigm birds, or to rob their nests
■ whenever they find them,
vei T cruel and
wicked, and we trust that none of
our little readers will ever be guil
ty of such practices. You would
think it very unjust if a person
stronger than you were to turn you out
of house and home,-or burn your house
over your head, or kill you just for sport.
Is it not quite as cruel to destroy the
house of a bird, or to rob it of its eggs or
young ones, or to shoot the old bird and
knowledge
not even a sparrow falls to the ground,
and who made the little birds to play
their part in tho great drama of life, cer
tainly looks upon the useless destruction
of his creatures as a great and wicked
sin.
Here are some pretty verses which we
copy for the benefit of those who think it
no harm to kill innocent little birds:
•* Don’t kill tho birds, the little birds
That sing about your door
Soon as the joyous spring has come,
And chilling storms aro o'er.
11 The little birds, how sweet they sing,
Oh, let them joyous live,
And do not seek to take their life,
Which you can never give.
“ Don’t kill tho birds, the pretty birds
That play among tho trees;
’Twould make the earth a cheorloss place
To see no more of theso.
“ Tho little birds, how fond they play !
Do not disturb their sport,
But let them warble forth their songs
Till Winter cuts them short.
Don't kill tho birds, tho happy birds,
That cheer the field and grove;
Such harmless things to look upon,
They claim our warmest love.”
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