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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.” 107