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«Y JAJIES W. JONES. The Southern Whig, PU3LIS.IWO HV IRY SATURDAY MORNING. TEKMS. Three dollars per annum, payable within six months after the receipt of the fii st number, or four dollars if not paid within the year. Sub scribers living out of the State, will be expect ed in all cases, to pay in advance. No subscription received for less than one year, unless the money is paid in ad rance; and no paper will be discontinued until ali arrear ages are paid, except at the option of the pub lisher. Persons requesting a discontinuance, oftheir Papers, are requested to bear in mind, a settement of their accounts. Advertisements will be inserted at.the usual rates; when the number of insertions is not specified, they will be continued until ordered out. £5“ All Letters to the Editor or Proprietor, on matters connected with the establishment, must be post paid in order to secure attention $3-Notice of the sale of Land and Negroes, by Administrators, Executors, or Guardians, must be published sixty days previous to the day of sale. The sale of personal Property, in like manner, must be published forty days previous to the day es sale. Notice to debtors and creditors an estate must be published forty days. Notice that Application will be made to the Court of Ordinary for Leave to sell Land or Ne groes, must be published four months. Notice that Application will be made for Letters of administration, must be published thirty days and Letters of Dismission, «ix months. For Advertising—Letters of Citation. $ 2 75 Notice to Debtors and Creditors, (10 days) 325 Four Months Notices, 4 00 Sales of Personal Property by Executors, Administrators, or Guardians, 3 25 Sales of Land or Negroes by do. 4 75 Application for Letters of Dismission, 4 50 Other Advertisements will be charged 75 cents for every thirteen lines of sin- 11 type, (or space equivalent,) first insertion, ami 50cents for each weekly continuance. If published every other week, 62 1-2 cents for each continuance. If published once a month, it will be charged each time as a new advertisement. For a single insertion, $1 00 per square. PROSPECTUS OF A NEW LITERARY JO URN A L, ENTITLED THE BACHELOR’S BUTTON. THE Second Number of this Periodical is now before the Public. The very kind fa vor with which it has been accepted prompts the Editor to make, renewed exertions to place the work on a firm foundation, and to make it worthy of the patronage it is likely to receive. No effort was made to obtain subscribers, no publicity was given to the tTcstgn, tmtHrtir-ftrM nqmber was ready for distribution,—because the Editor was unwilling to make promises which he might be unable to fulfil; and he was anxious that the public, before it gave encour agement or approbation, should see 'he work, and have an opportunity to judge of its merits. A short notice of the Editor’s intentions and wishes accompanied the first number, and the approbation and indulgence with which his friends and the public generally received it, gave, to him hopes which he had not previously in dulged. That Alabama would give a handsome sup port to such a publication was a matter of ex treme doubt; —owing more to her commercial and agricultural enterprise, than to any want of liberality, or to the absence of a spirit for lit erary advancement. But the avidity with which fortune has been hunted down, has not taken away the taste of her Scholars; —and the increase cf wealth has produced the best of all results; ; the opening of the heart, and the gushing forth of the best of feelings: generosity, and a desire to promote every laudable enterprise. The Bachelor’s Button is the only period ical in the State devoted entirely to Original Li terature. It is printed in a handsome style.— (not inferior in that respect to the best in the country.) The very medium of publication is calculated to inspire young ambition to vigor ous exertion, and to make the old and experien ced writer happy in the privilege of sending thoughts into the world in suc’i a garb. Alaba ma has talent—talent of an order calculated to command the admiration of her neighbors, however old their experience ; how ever celebra ted their Literati. It is the proudest wish of the Editor that he may call that talent into ac tiveexercise; yet he cannot hope to be able to do that without the hearty approbation of his friends, and their earnest concurrence in promo ting a cause for whose success lie is willing to | devote his entile time and attention. ( A Liter ,ry Advertiser will he attached to ’ the Bachelor's Button, containing Notices which relate to Schools, Colleges, Books. Banks, Insu rance Companies, &c at the following rates : For one insertion, per page, $lO 00 “ “ “ 1-2 page. 600 “ “ “ 1-4 page, 400 By the year, per page, 60 00 “ “ “ 1 2 page, 30 00 “ “ “ 1-4 page, 15 00 This arrangement will not interfere with the literary department, as the advertising sheets will be* entra. Persons w ishing to advertise in the third Number, will send in their notices’im mediately. Mr Vv. W. McGuire is our City Agent, and i« authorised to act for us. Any letter 01 com munication left at his Book Store, will receive immediate attention. TERMS—“The Bachelor’s Button” will be published Monthly in the City of Mobile, in a pamphb t containing 64 large octavo pages of entirely original matter, on fine paper, and on new and clear type, at Five Dollars a year, ■payable in advance. Editors friendly to the work will please publish Ahis circular. WM. R SMITH, Editor and Proprietor NOTICE BARGAINS, BARGAINS. THE Firm of Wm. 11. Ehney, As Co. having closed business, and their whole Stock of Fancy Dry Goods having been trans. Jerred to the Subscriber,-he nov offers them for sale at M, WKJB As the Subscriber is anxious to disjose ol them as soon as possible, those who wish Great Bargains will do well to call immediate, ly at the House on College Avenue, formerly occupied by Miss Muuikifi, where hewill be found at all hours. His Stock comprises a great varitety of among which, aro a handsome assortment of Fashionable Plaid IStttssia Idnen, Prills, for Gentlemen’s Pants. R. W. CASKIN. June 21—9—ts. ————— - _ . MX isjx l Unecus. From a late English Work. THE DEATH OF LEONIDAS. BY REV. GEORGE CROLY. It was the wild midnight— A storm was on the sky, The lightning gave its light, And the thunder echoed by; The torrent swept the glen, The ocean lashed the shore; Then rose the Spartan men, To make their bed in gore ! Swift from the deluged ground Three hundred took the shield. Then in silence gathered round The leader of the field. He spake no warrior word, He bade no trumpet blow; But the signal thunder roared, And they rushed upon the foe The fiery element Showed with one mighty gleam Rampart, and flag and tent. Like the spectres of a dream. All up the mountain side, All down the woody vale, All by the rolling tide Waved the Persian banners pale : And foremost from the pass, Among the slumbering band, Sprang King Leonidas, Like the lightning’s living brand ! Then double darkness fell, And the forest ceased its moan ; But there came a clash of steel. And a distant dying groan. Anon a trumpet blew, And a fiery sheet burst high, That o’er the midnight threw A blood-red canopy 1 A host glared on the hill, A host glared by the bay ; But the Giecks rushed onward still, Like leopards in their play. The air was all a yell. And the earth was all a flame, Where the Spartan’s bloody steel On the silken turbans came ; And still the Greek rushed on, Where the fiery torrent rolled, Till like a rising sun Shone Xerxes’ tent of gold I They found a royal feast. His midnight banquet there, ' And the treasures of the East • Lay beneath the Doric spear. < Then sat to the repast , TEeTlravest of the brave ; ~ -j That feast must be their last, 1 That spot must be their grave I t They pledged old Sparta’s name I ; I In cups of Syrian wine, I And the warrior’s deathless fame [ . Was sungin strains divine, They took the rose-wreathed lyres Prom eunuch and from slave, And taught the languid wires The sounds that Freedom gave. But now the morning star Crowned (Eta’s twilight brow, And the Persian horn of war ' From the hills began to blow : I I Up rose the glorious rank, | , To Greece once up poured high, I Then hand in hand they drank, ( ‘To immortality 1’ Fear on King Xerxes fell, When, like spirits from the tomb, With shout and trumpet kncli, He saw the warriors come : I But down swept all his power, Wi.h chariot and with charge ; ) Down poured the arrowy shower, Till sank the Dorian’s targe. They gathered around the tent, With all their strength unstrung ; To Greece one look they sent, Then on high their torches flung. Their Kingsatonthe throne, His captains by his side, While the flame rushed roaring on, And their ptean loud replied. ’ Thus fought the Greek of old ! Thus will he fight again! Shall not the self-same mould Bring forth the self-same men ? From the Last Number of the Library of Fiction. THE GUERILLA —by sheridan knowles, Author of the “ Hunchback,” &e. (Concluded.') ‘You have made a discovery T think,’said the Seuor. ‘I perceive your astonishment is as great as mine. Till to-night you were un acquainted with the sex of your young friend.’ ‘Till to-night!’was the brief but emphatic reply of the youth. ‘ You took her for a brother?’ ‘No, Senor, fora cousin ’ ‘Have y«u been much together?’ ‘Constantly ; particularly in our studies.’ ‘Your studies’’ repeated the Senor with surprise. ‘Yes, Senor; my father had received a li beral education youth : he studied at at Salamanca. had been bred m a convent— instructed us.’ ‘ And you the sex of your companion?’ ‘ What language do you know besides your 1 own ?’ ‘ Latin and French.’ ‘What do you know of the use of arms?’ ‘ My father says I am a tolerable master of the rapier,’ ‘ Was your companion taught it V ‘No, Senor! I was always instructed to be- ■ lieve that he was of a constitution too delicate to encounter robust exercises. In our walks and pastimes, I was forbid to iead him into , anything which might require great exertion. J. Hence I never suffered him to leap a brook; but waded it, carrying him in’my arms.’ ‘What do you know of the life of a Gue rilla?’ ‘Little, Senor. My father lives in their [ mountains, he adoptsiheir domestic habits, par. ; takes in their sports, and has a sort of com- “WHERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY. JefferSOn. rnand amongst them ; but in their lawless pro ceedings he has never taken p irt.’ ‘ Then he is not a Guerilla ?’ ‘No further than I have told you, Senor.’ ‘ One question more,’sui I the Senor, thought fully ‘Your companion has always bi eu ve ry fond of you; did your parents encourage this affection ?’ • No, Senor, they rather checked it; not harshly though. It was sometimes painful to me ; but as I saw th .t repulsing it gave great er pain, 1 suffered it; though I have often said it made us look more lik* girls than boys.’ ‘ Would you repulse it now ?’ asked the Sen or, bending an earnest glance upon the youth. The youth sighed, and his head dropped upon his breast; the Senor rose and quitted the apartment. He met the female domestic com ing out of the adjoining one. She told him that its occupant had come to herself, and had entreated her to leave her. The Senor dis missed her for the night. For a considerable time he remained standing at the door, which at length he softly opened, and, assured bv th. breathing of its inmate that she had fallen into a sleep, entered on tiptoe, approached the bed, and gently undrew the curtains. O e arm was bent under the head of the sleeper, the ether, of exquisite mould, lay exposed upon the rich satin qu'lt. The Senor stooped down to examine it. There was a small -car a little ab >ve the wrist. The Senor sank upon his knees, his eyes raised to Heaven ; he wept, but the tears fell from eyes that were bright with thanksgiving and joy. ‘ Whither will you go?’ said the Senor to the youth, as they sat the next morning at break fast in the Senor’s stuoy. ‘ You cannot re main here—you cannot remain in Burgos— will you follow your father to Madrid ? 1 will supply you with the charges of your journey, and ample funds shall await you when you ar rive there.’ The youth made no reply ; deep melancholy was painted in his countenance, as he gazed vacantly in the Senor’s face. ‘Young man,’ resumed the Senor, ‘he is a false triend who, from motives of compassion, encourages hopes which he knows can never be realized. You have been brought up from childhood with my daughter, of whose sex it ! appeals you were ignorant till last ..ight.— Her rank and yours forbid the continuance ot that familiarity which has hitherto subsisted between you, and which might now iead to re sults to which, troni the most weighty reasons, my wishes are opposed. It must cease—cease here. I cannot permit you to speak to her, or < even to see her !’ . Not speak to her ! not see her again !’ eja culated the youth, striki g his forehead with his hand, and starting from nis seat. ‘ No !’ said the S.mor calmly. The youth frantically paced the chamber for a minute or two, then suddenly stopped’short, 1 and fixed ins full eyes upon the Senor’s face. 1 The soul of deprecation was in that look; hi; color wavered ; his lips began to quiver; hr- : respiration became short, difficult, and t»— ■ TOtrSs rnVTmrrru-rtrarreo— ———w-rtrr-t.-, and a torrent of tears burst from his eyes, as h I threw himself at the feet of th ,• Senor. ‘No! —no! —mo!’ was all he could utter, as 1 he convulsively grasped the Senor’s hand, : which he raised at e'ery interval to his lips; ‘No ! no ! no !’ The Senor was one of those im.xphc bl characters, who exhibit at one lime ih great est sensibility, and at another, the gieatest ob tuseness of feeiing. Al a cause <.f sympathy, where do personal interest was opposed, he would melt as he did at the affecting interim w between the Guerilla youth mid his supp •>■<•<! brother; but let that appeal interfere with his own inclinations, aims, resolves, be could b as calloa’s as if his heart had never know ; the touch of ruth, pity, or generosity. Coldly he contemplated the prostrate image of sup. hea ting agony, that knelt before him. T’here was no effort, no struggle, no more than in a rock upon which water breaks, leavii g it as it found it. ‘No! —no!—no!’ in vain continued the youth hall suffocated with Iris sobs, and almost blind with weeping The Senor calmly dis engaged his hands, rose—the youth still re taimng his posture —approached the door, open ed it, turned and paused for a moment pr two , with his hand upon the lock, ‘I shall give directions for your immediate departure,’ said the Senor; ‘ the cause ofyour j disorder is too apparent. Hope is the tiotir- ' isher of wishes ; they droop, wither, and die when it is withdrawn. V, itliin four days from | this, my daughter will be erpoused by a kins- . man, whom 1 have fixed upon for her husband ; > you leave Burgos i stantly !’ Ina quarter of an hour, the youth was on > his way to Madrid. ' The Senor sat alone in Iris saloon, his eyes j ’ constantly directed towards the door of his I apartment; it opened—it presented to him! the loveliest female form that had ever entered ’) it. conducted by the Senor’s principal female ; domestic. Expectation, and u certainty, were blended in the expression offer countenance ; | her eyes rested a moment on those of the Senor. I then fell; and without lifting them again, she ! was led tip to him. II r knees i.iclim dto tin ground, the Senor’s arms prevented them from reaching it, and folded her to his breast. ' ‘My chilu!’ ‘ My father!’—was all that was uttered f>r several minutes. The lost, found daughter had been cautiously prepared for the interview. Having given vent to her emotions, and the attendant having withdrawn, the father and the j daughter now sat side by side. For a time ' she listened with interest to his account of the consternation and distraction which her sud den disappearance when a child hud excited : of the various means which had been resorted j to. but in vain, to effect her recovery ; of the I different conjectures which had been formed, as to the cause and manner of her ab'luction, and I the quarter wither .-he had been conveyed—but gradually her attention slackened, and slivk ened until at last tho Senor stopped, finding ' that ho was pouring his communiculimi into ears that took no note of it, while the now ab stracted maid sat fixed in the attitude of listen. ' it’g. An expression of deep thought and anx iety spread itself over the countenance of the Senor as he sat contemplating the breathing statue before him. f A footstep was heard in the passage. 11 aroused her—she listened—it passed—she sigh i edand relapsed into her trance. Another loot- - step was heard—she w. s awake again—sh ■ ’ ■ listened—it was close to the door—tho door s i opened—almost she arose from her seat —a 1 j domestic etilered—she heaved a deeper sigh • | than before, and the spell of abstraction again ; came over her. The gloom tri’the. Senor’s countenance deepened ; Iris brow became con. - traded ; he frowned upon itisnew-found child ; he felt his heart rising into his throat, but he r bit his lip, and kept his emotions in. ‘ Comesaid he at last, rising from his seat: - ‘ let me m iko you acquainted wi*h your father’s SWESttIA, f*LITUIWAY, 8, i &37. house, ot which as yet you 0..1y know a room or two,’ She rose mech. nicafly and took the arm which he proffered. He conducted her thro’ ihc various apartments of a very noble man sioti; furniture, the most costlv, was u.icover ed to solicit her admiration ; the richest appa rel was taken from costly wardrobes, a,id spread before her; cabinets were unlocked ; jewels were withdrawn from their cases, and pul i,.i<> her hands, or disposed here a d there about her person, that she might view them in spa. cious mirrors ; the history of tnis set and that set--lhe choicest 111 the collection.—was told to her; she saw, she hoard, but she noted not —the impression of h r ase. ses vanished th'- momen* the caus s were withdrawn—once only was that interest, which makes impres sion permanent, excited—when she looked at the portrait of her mother. She stood be fore it mute—reverence scarce lifting its rye to the object it venerates a>id would look upon ; sh c.ossi-d her arms upon her breast.—she drop, ped her eyes, half bowed, and raised the to the portrait again ; a tear started and trickled. It was pl; in that the portrait was awakening other ideas besides thit of the original—she slowly tun ed her face towards ihe Senor; who stood beside her—a want and wistfulness were depicted in that face. ‘You’ll be kmd to me,’ she said, and burst ing into tears hid her face in the Senor’s breast. Di mer was annourced : she eagerly took the Senor’s hand when he offered it to con duct her to the room where it was laid. She almost went before hiri, but. she had scatcelv entered the dour and look ’d r uud, wh a she faltered as though she was about to drop. No one sat down to table but the S.mor and her. O e cover was laid b. lore her, she tasted its conte,.ts, and no mure. Anoth r and a. oth< r followed with the s.;me result. Appetite w,s gone—nothi g could provoke it. The deswH was as little honored iistho dinner. Wi ,e w»is poured out for her; she touched the lip of th cup, but its contents w<mt away untasted. ‘ Ahneira !’said the S mor, assoouasthey wo re left alone, ‘ are you unhappy at havi g round your father ?’ ‘ No !’ ejaculated the ingenuous girl, lifting her eyes and looking full in the Senor’s face. •Yet you ara unhappy at something !’ added ihe Senor inquiri gly : the girl was silent. ‘Your new state of fortunes. Ahneira,’ re sumed the Senor, ‘must give rise to new’ feb its—,.ew purs its—new connexions the Sen or was going ott, but observing that the color was rapidly leaving the check of his auditor, : he paused ; and, differently from what he had 1 intended, at length we t 0..: * your happiness. ; Almeira, shall be the first care, as it is the first ' wish of your father. ' The girl’s eyes brightened up —the color re- • turned to her cheek—she start d from her seat, ' throwi g her arms r.m d the neck of th.-Senor. 1 whos countenance, i stead of bei g irradiated 1 like tlnit of his child, ow Io ered with auex- ‘Take votlr seat again. Aim ira,’ said the I Senor.- The girl returned to her seat. ‘Happiness, my child,’ sai i th- Se or,’ is 1 the result of doi g, ot mer. iy what w e wish, ' but. wh. twe kowto b - wise and right You enlist hai. no coticcalments tr. m your.iuih. r. 'Fell me, did you notexpi ct to-day to meet with some one whom you have missed?’ A face and neck of scarlet fumed the r‘ply ■fife maid, as she sat wiih downcast eyes ami j hard!-, appeared to breathe. ‘I know you did, Ahneira,’ resumed the $ ■ r, his cou.tetiai.ee darkening: ‘but he has left this house.’ A slight convulsive inspiration wi-s all that was uttered by the maid, but w here th re was crimson before, there was now tfe hue or ashes. ‘ He has left Burgos,’ continued the Senor. Sh.- gasped. •He must never return to it!’ firmly added he. The girl lav senseless on the floor. The evening of the third day after the de parlure of the youth, the house ot the Senor was lighted up for festivity ; his doors, thrown open for the recepiio 1 of ali who chess? to en- 1 ter, disclosed in the distimge an illuminated garden, The company was of various de scriptions, the costume such as pleased the fm cy of the wearers; some came in masks and dominoes; some in fancy and some in plain dresses ; group after group passed in. Num bers of the common class <>f people remained stationary in the street, sufiicientiy interested in watching the arrival of the visiters. Among ; I them, and in front, stood a young ma ~ eve- • 1 loped in an ample cloak, with which, is well ; as witii his hat that was pulled down over his i eves, he partly conceded his countenance, i ‘Cao vou tell me the meaning of this?’ said ! he tn one who stood by him. ‘ Don’t you know ?’abruptly demanded the ; other. ‘I thought every one in Burgos was acquainted with it. The Senor gives a feast to-night, i joy for having recoveted his long lost daught -r, and in honor of her approachi g nuptials, which are to Hike place tomorrow. Stand up,’ continued ae, 11 a tone of slight un; atieute ; ‘ VYiuit. ails you that vou stagger I so ? are you dru k P ‘No,’ replied the first speaker—yet catight by the arm of his neighbor, evidently for sup port. It was the youth After a day’s jour ney and a half, he had turned, and. reckless of J cons, quences. came back to Burges, lie had Ino life now but wlin'. wascei tied in a passion, I whose root was as deep as the recollectio :s of his boyhood. He thrillj d with the thought, of a thousand embraces and other acts of ei,dear meat, which, when they occurred, were re ceived as welcome but merely customary things. His lips now chi g in fancy to lips whose pressure he hid but lialfreluriied—n .v. . often checked, I, fell as if he coui-1 have] p ined with the whole store of his life’s breath, to tee! now f>r o e mumont th-■ sweet breath of those !ips. IL.' had arrived in Burgos th t very eveni iff about dusk : had taken up his quarters at the hous ■■ of an old woman, who, perceiving bv Iris attire that he was a mou 1- taineer—a truce had just been proclaimed be i tween the Guerillas a .d the itihabitants of Bur gos—had called him to her, and asked 'mm if he would undertake to co: v y a grandson of hers, who was sickly, info the mouulat s th it ni-’ht. lie had co is ’:it» d, having begun to p’ari the wildest schem.-s tor trie abduction of the Senor’s daughter; and providing himself with a cloak which would th >roughlv con ceal his figure, he hastened iut > th ' streel where the Senor lived, and planted himself with the rest b fore ihe house. ‘ May bn.’ said the man whom lie bad ac- ■ costed, feelr g that, he lem od upon him from faintness: ‘Maybe you have not eaten to-day, ■ anil aro exhausted with fasting, [fso, you der is food enough,’ continued he, pointing to : 1 the. Senor’s door, ‘ ?„;d nobody is prohibited j i t’onj enteritis. 1 ‘Nobody ?’ echoed the youih inquiringly. ‘Nobody!’ reiterated his neighbor, who scarcely missed the youth from his side when he saw him glide into the Senor’s house. I ■ the hall the youth e countered th • Senor —whom, however, masking ins face b\ a pro found bow as he moved in, he contrived to pass with' u: being discovered. H turned into the parlor; it was full, but the object whom he sought was not there; he mixed with the corn pa y that were amusing themselves with min strelsy and dancing in the garden, but with 110 better success. He ascended to the library, but his searching eyes, that eagerly looked from side to side, examining every group, were un rc arded for their pains. He passed into the saloon, which was the most cro<wu :d ; with no small difficulty he made his way to the head of the apartment, where a small space was kept clear, in ihe centre of winch sat, Upon some th, ,g like a throne, a female of the most ex quisite form, richly but simply attired. She was leaning back, displaying to full advantage the curve of a beautituily arched neck, her face quite turned away, in earnest conversation with an elderly woman, evidently ofsubordinate rank who stood behind her. The youth gasped for breath. He felt a movement among those who were standing near him, as if to make way for some person who was approaching: he me chanically yielded, without once withdrawing iris regards from the object upon whom he had first fixed them. The Senor entered the area, conducting a young cavalier by tiic hand. •‘ Amelia !” said tie. Die queen ot the festivities turned her he id, mid presented to the youth the face of the com paiiioii of bis childhood and boyhood; but now enhanced 1.1 beauty, from the more congenial at ire which its owner bad assumed. 'I he Senor presented the cavalier, who took and kiss ed the haim which, however, she did not offe.-. i lie youth moved his hand towards his sword, but checked himself, and drew his mantle closer about him. “ VV ho is thatyoung cavalier?” With as much composure as he could command, i .quiredhe of the person who stood next. turn. “ 1 he intended husband ot the Seiiora.” His hand moved towards his sword again, but agai he checked himself. 1 The Senor whispered his daughter—she rose. The cavalier presented his arm—she took it. They moved thiougb the stately apart- ; tm nt, the company making way as they ap- 1 proached. The youth mechanically followed. ■ With what feelings did he contemplate the lovely form before him!—the graceful-fulllug 1 shoulders!—the slender waist!—the fuil-corv- 1 mg sweep of ihe downward portion of the fi- 1 gur ! —the ankle that seemed made for onia- ■ meat rather than support! all set off by the effect of- female drapery. A thousand wild a id maddening resolves passed 1:1 rapid stormy ’ succession through Ins mind, but they all set ■ tied into one —to die before her!—To reveal 1 him a.-ls and die ! , He turned for a moment to look for the Sen- 1 t L'lids. ‘lie' tiiinAved trc.-qra'iT'TTrrti.wllh some fe brury, and dow u.to the garden, withering at| ; the looks of gmtuiation and delight that were ! cast upon them on evi-ry side as th y passed. I The mi; istrelsy and dance were proceeding, j Her companion conducted her to an arbor, and I s- ated Inmsell’tlv-re beside her. 'I he youth took ] Lis station -it some distance, dir. ctly in trout. The full blaze of tile lights displayed every ! feature as clear as if it were uoo day. Her full, dark eye sparkled ! —cheerfulness sho rn, [in her couute unce! —she had forgotten the compa io., of her youth ! —she was listening to him with whom the remainder of her life was to be j> ssed ! What was life or the world to the deserted one? The aged female he had remarked in the sa loon approached. She rose i. stnutly and met herbefoie she reached'he arbor. They whis pered and separated. She resumed her scat, her counteiiatK e b ighter than before. ‘They have been speaking about her ap proachii.'g uptials,’ sighed the youth to him self. ‘She will be a bride to-morrow !’ The c niilier ow addressed hei. She bow ed. He rose and has ily leit the arbor. The v 011th thought that this was the time. He stood b; lore her. his ba; d upo his dagger. H was about to breathe the well-known mime, but it was unnecessary'. She knew him. enveloped as he was, ami uttered a half suppressed shriek. By a violent effort, however, she i .stantly re covered herself. ‘ Flv to the, mountains !’ she said, as rapidly as she could articulate, ‘ I shall meet thee there to-morrow ’ 1 lie stood stounded. ‘Flv!’ she reiterated. ‘Living or dead 1 will bi) tin c ! —He returns ! Fly—as you lo e me, fly !’ He looked in the direction whith r the ca valier had departed. He was returning, car. rying a basket of fruit and followed by the Se nor. The youth bent one gaze upon tier, such as she bad never received from him before. Un saw that it penetrated her soul. She an sw- red it. pressing her hand upon her heart. He darted i.to a gr up that stood near; gra dually, but as fast as he could withdraw from [ the garden, and quilted the house, his soul in a ferment with feelings which he could not de fine, but which were transport compared to those which he had experienced but a few mi- ; mles before. •Where is your grandson?’ he eagerly in quit'' d of iris hostess as he entered. •He will be here at midnight, of which it odv wants an hour. In the meantime you can take some refreshment. He sat down to the first repast he had tasted with relish for the las three days. He ate h artilv, ir d washed 'own the viands with an I ..tuple draught of excellent wine. The dame I did not pl ,y tile niggard to her grandson’s ! guide. He i .quired the time. It wanted yet ' half an hour ofmid.right. lie became restless. • Are x oil positive,’ said he, ‘ thatyourgrand so 1 will be he.re ?’ • Positive,’ she replied. At length the church clock struck the hour.) and at the las! stroke a knock ctime to the door. ! lie flew to open it, Two mules were without, ipon one oi which was mounted his expected J fellow-traveller. He s wung upou the buck of 'j the other, and th y set off. E igrossed with hisown reflections the ytfuth | did not interchange a syllable with his compan ion, The lovely, stately form of the Senor’s ’[ daughter was ever before him, but coutempla ! ted with feelings far different from those with [ which he had followed it in the saloon. He [ dwel* with womleroti its fair stature—its rich j outline—its bewildering symmetry! He be [ camo lost in a trance of delicious meditation, i unconscious that he was following the charge whom he Lad undertaken to conduct. They hid now reached the mou itains. The breath ; of his native air first recalled him to himself. It was grey dawn. He was several paces i 1 the rear of his cumpaui jn. He rude up to him. ■ •To what part of the mountains would you 1 go?’ inquired he. • Blessed virgin !’ ejaculated’ the other, sud denly drawing the bridle. The youth did the same; spra; g from the animal that carried him, and clasped the Senor’s daughter in his arms, returned to her boy’s disguise. His I neck felt the clasp which it had often felt be fore, but never as now ; the lips printed kisses where they had before passively received them, nor was their pressure unreturnejl. The ag.’d female in the saloon and garden had been the nurse of the Senor’s daughter— had received her from the Senor when she had swooned i.i the di ringroom, and learned from her the cause. Feeling that the daughter’s lift must fall » sacrifice, if she was forced lo comply with the Senor’s wishes, she planned the escape, a id effected it, determining to fol low, and end In r days with one whom, an in fant. she had nourished in her bosom. ‘You are mine !’exultingly exclaimed the youth, as he sprang again into his saddle.— The trampling of horses was heard close be hind them! They looked back—they were pursued. ’They endeavored, by urging their mules to the top of their speed, to escape, but they were overtaken. In vain the youth at tempted resistance: he was disarmed, bound, and in a state of distraction conducted with the S nor’s daughter back again to Burgos. ‘I shall give him his life,’ said the Senor: ‘but he shall see her married before his face.’ The priest was summoned—the bridegroom was ready. The Senor’s daughter was led drooping into the room, supported by two do ur'stics. 'I he priest proceeded as he was di rected, but no response '•ould entreaties or threats induce the maid to give. ‘ I will answer for her,’ said the Senor. ‘lt is murder,’ shrieked the youth, and witii a convulsive ( ffort of his arms, burst the cords by which they were constrained, and darting forwards, clasped the maiden warmly to his bi < ast : the maiden, roused by tile action, clung wildly to him ! ‘Separate them,’ vociferated the Senor. The attendants endeavored to obey him, but i. l vain. The hands of the pair were clasped with the strong tenacious hold that is some tini' s taken i 1 th< agony ot violent death. • Kill him !’ cried the Senor ‘Forbear!’ commanded a voice of thunder, as the Guerilla strode into tne room. ‘For bear! He is your nephew, and lam your el der brother.’ The Guerilla—if such we may call him— had in his youth fallen desperately in love with th“ daughter of a noble family. She was des tined to take the veil. She returned his pas- 1 sion, and during her noviciate eloped with him from her convent. He carried her into the j 1 mountains, and buried himself with her there. 1 They were excommunicated. She bore him a son, and died shortly afterwards. To secure ! to that son restoration to his patrimonial pos- I s ssio s, the father had stolen the Senor’s daughter, whose sex, for various reasons, was ■ at'empted to rescue, a d who revealed His 1 name to the Guerilla, and penned with his dy ing feiid. for his father, a relation of what had happened, presented an opportunity for car rvi g 1 to effect the plan which the Guerilla hid long in contemplation. He repaired to Burgos, co fideat of security in the double hold which he had upon the Senor; when the events which we have narrated in the com rneiicement took place. E iCouraged bv the paper which the youth, upon arriving at. Bur gos, presented to him, he had repaired to Ma drid, obtained complete enfranchisement from the disabilities under which he lay, and return ed in time to succour his son and his niece, who that very morning were united. A SONG OF OL» ENGLAND. BY HENRY F. CH' RLEY, ESQ- OF LONDON. A a >ng of the oak, the brave old oak. Who hath rul’d in this land so long; Here’s he d h a id renown, to his broad green crown And his fifty arms so strong! There'is fear in his frown, when the sun goes down, And the fire in the West fades out; And he showeth his might, in the wild midnight, When storms through his branches shout! Then sing of the oak, the brave old oak. Who hath rul’d in this land so long— And still flourish ho, a hale green tree, When a hundred ears are gone ! He saw the rare times, when the Christinas chimes Were a pleasant sound to hear, And the squire’s wide hall and the cottage small j Were full ofright men" cheer; And all the day, to the rebeck, gay, They trolick’d with lovesome swains : They arc gone ! they are dead ! in the church yard laid! i But the tree—he still remains I I Then sing ofthe oak, cf the brave old oak, Who hath rul’d in this land so long: And still flourish he, a hal green tree, When a hundred years are gone ! Assccdwlcs el" Napoleon. FROM EVENINGS WITH CAMBACERES. ! Count d’Orsenne one day accompanied the Emperor on a reconnoitering excursion. The j Emperor had been complaining of thirst, and 1 some one seeing a vivandier, or sutler woman at a little distance, called to her. The woman did not know Napoleon, or any of his escort. She gave the Emperor a glass of spring wa ter mixed with a little brandy, and then curtsied for payment. ‘‘There, my good woman,” pointing to <’ouut d’O'semie, “ there is the Emperor, ask !■ him for th;' money. He pays for us all.” The vivaudtere blushed, and looked embar- i rassed; then turning to the Count, she scan-| ued his splendid uniform with the eye of a ! coimoisetw, and said : •‘He! pooh, nonsense! Do you think I 1 am fool enough to believe that ? The Empe- ; ror is not each a coxcomb. You, sir, look] j much more like him yourself.” ! The Emperor was much amused at this re- ! 1 mark, and he gave the woman a double louis, i Count D.iru, who was one of the party on the evening when Prince Cambaceres related the above anecdote, said : “ Your amusing story, Monseigneur, reminds me of another also relating to one of these 1 eamp-follou i g nymphs, called vivandieres. ! You know how carefully the Emperor preser ved his incognito when he was with the army. It was well he did so ; for ho frequently ven tured into places where, had he been known, j he would have incurred ihe greatest risks. Du ring one of the Campaigns in Germany, the Emperor, wrapped in his cel, brated gray great coat, was riding about in the environs of Mu nich, attc ated only by two oderly officers. Hi inet 01 the road a very pretty looking fe male. who, by her dress, was evidently a vi . vundierc. She was weeping, and was Leading Vol. V—No. 10. 11 by the hand a tittle boy, about & years es age. Struck by the beauty of tie woman and faer distress, the Emperor pulled up his horse on the road side, and said : | “ What is the matter with you, my dear?” The woman, net knowing the individual by 1 whom she was addressed, and being much discomposed by grief, made no reply. The little boy, however, was more communicative, and he frankly answered : “My mother is crying, sir, because my fa. I ther has boat her.” Where is your father?” “Close by here. He is one of the sentinels on duty with the baggage.” The Emperor again addressed himself to the woman, and i .quired the name of her hus. band ; but she refused to tell, being fearful lest the Captain, as she s' pposed the Emperor to be, would cause her husband to be punished. Napoleon, I am sorry to say, had but little con fidence in the. fair sex. Ou this occasion, his habitual suspicions occurred to his mind, and be said : u Alalpeste, your husband has been beating you ; you are weeping, and yet you are so afraid of getting him into trouble that you will not even tell me bis name. This is very in consistent ! May it not be that you are a lit. tie to fault yourself?” “ Alas, Captain! he has a thousand good qualities, though he has one very bad one—he is jealous—terribly jealous; and when he gets into a passion, he cannot restrain his violence.” “ But that is rather serious ; in one of his fits of jealousy he may inflict on you some se vere i. jury—perhaps kill you.” •' And even if he did, I should not wish anv harm to ccme to him; for 1 am sure he would not do it wilfully. He lows me too well for that.” “And if I guess rightly, you love him.” “ That is very natural, Captain; he is my i lawful husband, and the fatherof my dear bo v.” So saying, she fondly kissed her child, who, by the way in which he returned her caresses, proved his affection for his mother. Napo leon was moved by this touching picture, in spite of the heart of iron, or marble, or of ad amant, which has so often been alotted to him.” “ Well,” said he, again turning to the wo man, “ whether you and your husband love each other or not, 1 do not choose that he should beat you—l am—l am one of the Ent, "troi ’s aides de camp, and i will mention the ' affair to his Majesty—tell me your husband’s name.” “ 1 f you were the Emperor himself, I would not tell it vou, for 1 know he would be punish ed.” “ Silly woman ! All I want is to teach him to behave well to you, and to treat you with the respect you deserve.” “That wouki make me very happy, Cap. tain; but though he ill-treats me, I will not get him punished.” The Emperor shrugged his shoulders', made some remark upon female obstinacy, and gaL 1. iro-il , ~— he said to the officers who accompanied him ; “ Well, gentlemen ! what do you think of that affectionate creature? There are not many such women at the Tuilleries.” “In the course of a few minutes, the bag gage, of which the boy had spoken, came up. I was escorted by a company of the 52d, Napoleon despatched one of the officers who was riding with him, to desire the commander of the escort to come to him. “ Have you a vivandiere in your company?’ 1 “Yes, sire,” replied the Captain. “ Has she a child ?’’ “Yes, little Gentil, whom we are al! so fond of.” “ Has not the wdtoan been beaten by her husband ?” “I was not aware of the circumstance till some time after the occurrence. I have re primanded the man.” “Is he generally well conducted?” “ He is the best behaved man in the compa. ny. He is very jealous of his wife, but w th out reason. The woman’s conduct is irre proachable.” “ Does he know me by sight ?” | “I cannot say, sire; but, as he has just ar. I rived from Spain. I think it is probable he docs ; not.” ! “Try and ascertain whether he has ever ; seen me, and if he has not, bring him hither. 1 Sav you wish to conduct him before the Ge t neral of the division.” ; O 1 inquiry, it appeared that Napoleon had never been s en by the grenadier, who was a I very fine looking man, about five and twenty. ! When he was conducted to Napoleon, the lat -1 ter said in a familiar tone : “ What is the reason, my lad. that you beat [ your wife ? She is a young and pretty woman, 1 and is a better wife than you are a husband. ’ Such conduct is disgraceful in a French Gre ! n.idler. ” “ Bnh, General! if women are to be belie [ ved, they are never in the wrong. I have for- I bidden my wife to talk to any man whatever; 1 and yet, in spite “f my commands, I find her ! constantly gossiping with one or other of my comrades.” [ “ Now, there is your mistake. You want to . prevent a woman from t dking—you might as 1 well try to turn the course of the Danube. Take my advice; do not be jealous. Let your wife gossip and be merry. If she were doing wrong, it is likely she would bo sad in- J stead of gay. Your comrades are not abso- j® lately capuchins ; but I am much mistaken ifJ they will not respect another man’s wife. desire that you do not strike your wife again; ’ and if my order be not obeyed, the Emperor ] shall hear of it. Suppose his Majesty were 1 to give you a reprimand, what would you say 1 then ?” “Ma toi! General, my wife is mine, and I may beat her it I choose* I should say to j the Emperor: Sire, look you to the eneinv, ! and leave me to manage my wife.” [ Napoleon laughed, an I said, “My good fel. ■ low, ysu are now sp -aking to the Emperor.” “ Ihe word produced its usual magical es : feet, rhe grenadier looked confus d, held down nis head, lowered his voice. Mud said : “Ch, Site ! that qiirie alters the case. Since your Majesty commands, I of course obey.” j “Thai’s right. I hear at) excellent charac 1 ter of your w ife. Every body B>aks well of | her. She braved my displeasure rather than expose you to punishment. Reward her by kind treatment. I promote you to the rank of sergeant, and when you arrive at Munich, ap. ply to the Grand Alarechal du Palais, and ha will present you with four hundred francs. With that you may buy a sutler’s caravan, which will enable your wife to carry on a pro fitable business. Your sxi is afi ie boy. and at some future time he shall be provided for. But mi nd, over let mo hear of your beating your wife again. Il l do, you shall find that I can deni hard blows as well as you.”