Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME VI.
A |||
h, MISCELLANY.
\W L
KAPOLEON'S MERCY.
Napoleon was conversing with Jo
sephine, when one of his officers en
teivd ami announced a young woman
from Lyons,
bat is her business with me?*
‘Some petition/ answered de Mer
ville, the officer,
‘Show her into our presence/ said
he.
The office r soon re-approached with
a hidy leaning upon his arm, whose
t; ice, as far as could be discerned
through the thick folds of a veil, was
very beautiful. She trembled as she
approached the door.
‘Madamoiselle/ whispered the guide
kindly, pressing her hand, ‘take cour
age, but answer promptly whatever
question the Emperor proposes; he
detests hesitation.’ Then ushering her
1,1 to a spacious apartment, he bowed
and retired.
The t rembling girl, perceiving Na
poleon, on whom her fondest hopes
depended, forgot herself and her tim
]dity; she thought only of another.
■Growing herself at the feet of Nupo
loon, she exclaimed in a voice choked
with emotion:
‘Mercy, sire! 1 sue f>r mercy and
pardon/
She could articulate no more.
Josephine stepped from her partial
concealment, and then approaching the
group, contributed more by her sym
pathizing woids cf encouragement to
restore the courage ot the young peti
| tioner than even the Emperor by the
graciousness of his manner, as lie bade
her rise.
‘Your petition, M 'damoiselle/ said
he.
Ilenriette Armond, for that was her
name, looked imploringly at the Em**
peror, and exclaimed:
‘Ah, sire, I ask pardon tor Louis
I Delarnarre, who is condemned to be
I shot to-morrow. Oh! grant him your
I royal pardonl’
A cloud gathered on the brow of
I Nap Jeon as lie interrupted her with:
I r A deserter, madame, he has twice
I deserted. No, he must be made an
lexample lor the rest of the regiment.
I Out the cause of his desertion?’
I ‘Two weeks since,’ answered Ilenri-
I ette, ‘he received news that an only
[remaining p irent, a mother, sire, was
I on her death-bed, and longed day and
I night to behold her son again. Louis
| knew that relief or release from his
I post was impossible. His mind was
I filled with one thought that she might
| close her eyes forever ere they rested
| on a son she loved so fondly.’
‘Did she die?* asked the Empress
| with interest.
‘No, madame/ replied Ilenriette;
I‘she at length recovered. But hardly
I had Louis received her blessing, been
folded in her arms, ere he was torn
from her grasp by the officers of juss
t’u e who dragged him thither. Oh! must
|he die? Mercy, sire, I beseech you/
‘Madamoiselle/ said Napoleon, ap-
I parently softened, ‘this was the second
otiencc; name the first, you omitted
I that/
| ‘lt was/ said Ilenriette hesitating
| and coloring, ‘it was that he heard I
| was to marry Conrad Ferrant, whom
I I detest as much as ho does/
‘Are you his sister, that he feels so
I great an interest in your fate?’ asked
| the Emperor.
‘Oli, no, sire,’ said Ilenriette, her
lovely cheek assuming still deeper the
hue of the rose, ‘I am only his cousin/
‘Ah! only his cousin/ repeated Na
poleon, glancing at Josephine with a
half-suppressed smile.
‘Oli! sire/ cried Ilenriette, ‘recollect
the anguish of a widowed mother,when
she recollects that the affection of her
1 son lor her is the cause of his death.
What/ she continued, ‘can I do to
save him?’ and the poor girl forgetting
the presence of royalty, burst into
tears.
The kind-hearted Josephine glanced
at the Emperor with eyes expressive
lof sympathy. She noticed the works
4hgYof his' f.iCe, and felt at once it
would be very uncertain whether Louis
Delarnarre was to be shot the next
morning.
Napoleon approached the weeping
girl. She hastily looked up and dried
her tears.
‘Madamoiselle/ said he, ‘would you
give your life to save his? Would you
die could Louis Delamarre be restored
to life, liberty and his. mother?*
Ilenriette started back deadly pale,
looking fixedly at the Emperor for a
moment, then turning away she buried
her face in her hands.
After a silence of some minutes,
Honriette looked lip, an air of fixed
determination resting upon her face,
‘I am willing/ she said in a very low
voice.
Napoleon looked atelier in surprise
as if he had n>t anticipated so ready
an answer to his proposal.
‘I will see you again/ said he. ‘ln
the meantime accept such apartments
for your accommodations as I shall
direct.
As soon as the door closed upon the
fair petitioner, Napoleon walked to
the window against which Josephine
was leaning, and said:
‘I see how it is; Louis Delamarre is
the lover of this young girl. True to
a woman’s nature, she has braved dif
ficulty and danger to beg for his re-
I lease/
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MAY 30, ISIS.
‘llow strong must be the love she
bears for him/ said the Empress.
‘Ah!’ responded he, ‘I have a mind
to subject that same love to a severer
test. Much do I doubt whether she
will give her life for him—neverthe
less I will see/
‘Surely/ cried Josephine, ‘you are
not serious. Louis can be pardoned
without the death of Ilenriette.’
Napoleon drew her nearer the win
dow; they conversed in a low voice.
Ilenriette stood alone in a magnifi
cent apartment. Hours passed unob
served, so intensely was she absorbed
in revery; a small folded paper was
tightly grasped in her hand. On it
were traced these words:
‘A deserter is condemned, by the
laws of the army to suffer death. If
you Wish Delarnarre restored to liber
ty, the means are in your power. Ere
day dawns be may be on his way to
join his mother, whom he so much
loves/
‘Ah! do not I love him, too?’ mur
mured Ilenriette.
Dressing her hand upon her heart,
as it to still the tumultuous beating,
she the ap irtment. The door
opened, and the Chevalier de Merville
entered, lie paused ere he articulated
‘Madamoiselle/
‘I am ready/replied Ilenriette; ‘my
decision is made/
De Merville appeared to comprehend
the import of her words. He looked
upon her in reverence as well as ad
miration, as she stood with the high
resolves impressed upon her beautiful
brow.
‘Follow me, Madamoiselle,’ said lie.
They traversed long corridors and
numerous suits of superb apartments,
and descending a staircase, quickly
reached an outer court communicating
with the guard house. Entering this,
Ilenriette void m horod by lior guide
into a small apartment, where she was
soon left to herself.
On the chair was flung a uniform of
the regiment to which Louis belonged.
On the table lay a large plumed cap.
Ilenriette comprehended in a moment.
Quickly habiting herself in the uni
form, she stood before the mirror, and
gathering up her beautiful brown tres
ses in a knot, placed the cap upon her
head. .She had almost uttered a cry
of j°y a t the success of her transfor
mation; she knew that she was to be
led to the fatal ground at the morning
dawn. The bullet which was to have
struck Louis to the heart—but she
shrank not back. Love triumphed
over timid woman’s nature.
‘Louis* mother will bless me in her
heart/ she whispered. ‘Louis himself
will never forget me. Ah, often has
lie sworn that he loved me better than
all tilings else/
Drawing a lock of his raven hair
from her bosom, she pressed it to her
lips and then she breathed a prayer to
Heaven.
Morning dawned. The sound of
footmen aroused Ilenriette. She start
ed up, grasped the band of hair, and
awaited her summons. The door open
ed, and two soldiers entered repeating
the name of Louis Delamarre. They
suddenly led her forth to die. The
soldiers, whose bullets were to pierce
the heart of Louis, had takan their
stand and only awaited the word of
command from the Emperor, who was
stationed at the window commanding
a view of the whole scene.
‘Oh!* cried Josephine, who stood by
him but concealed by the window dra
pery from the view of those below, ‘O,
sire, I can endure it no longer; it
seems so much like a dreadful reality.
Mark the devoted girl. No shrinking
back. See, she seems calmly awaiting
the dreadful moment/
‘Stop!’ cried Napoleon from the win
dow; ‘Louis Delamarre is pardoned.
I revoke the sentence/
xV loud burst of applause from the
lips of the soldiers followed the an
nouncement. Not one Qt them but
loved and respected his comrade.
The next moment, ere they could
press around to congratulate the sup
posed Louis, de Merville had eagerly
drawn the bewildered Ilenriette thro’
the crowd back to the cell whence she
had emerged but a few” moments be
fore.
‘llesume your dress again, Mada
moiselle/ hurriedly whi-pered lie; ‘lose
no time; the Emperor wishes to see
you. I will return very soon.’
Henriette was like one in a dream,
but a gleam of delicious hope thrilled
her soul; she felt the dawning of hap
piness break upon her heart. Soon
again resuming her pretty rustic habil
iments, dc Merville reappeared, and
once again she trod the audience room
of the Emperor. Lifting her e}'es from
the ground as the lofty door swung
open, she beheld Louis. An exclama
tion of joy burst from the lips of b6th,
as regardless of others, they rushed
into each others arms.
Napoleon stepped forward.
‘Louis Delarnarre, you have heard
from my lips the tale of this lovely
girFs devotion and courage; do you
love her as she deserves?’
‘I could die for her/ answered Louis
proudly.
‘Well, well/ cried the Ernperor/this
severe test of one will suffice. So du
tiful a son, so faithful a lover, will
doubtless make the best husband. You,
Lieutenant Louis Delarnarre, are dis
charged from your regiment. Return
to your native valley with Henriette
as your bride/
‘Here/ said the benevolent Jotepbine
emerging from the recessed window,
‘here are one hundred louis d'ors as
thy marriage dowry, Ilenriette/
A charming blush suffused the cheek
of the beautiful girl as she received the
purse from the hand of the Empress.
‘Long live Napoleon !’ exclaimed
Louis as, with a heart too full of grate
ful emotion for further utterance, he
took the hand of Ilenriette, and, mak
ing' a graceful obeisance, quitted the
apartment.
MOW an irishman Cornered i lie
Doctor.
Another favorite story was of a trial
at Quarter Sessions in Mayo, which
developed some of the ingenious re
sources of Paddy when he chooses to
exercise his talents in an endeavor
not to pay. A doctor had summoned
a mail for the sum of one guinea, due
for attendance on the man’s wife* The
medicon proved his case, and was
about to retire triumphant, when the
defendant humbly beg’ged leave to ask
him a few questions. Permission was
granted, and the following dialogue
took place:
Defendant—Doctlior, you remember
when I called on you?
Doctor—l do.
Defendant—What did I say?
Doctor —You said your wife was
sick, and you wished me to and see
her.
Defendant--What did you say?
Doctor—l said I would if you*d pay
me my fee.
Defendant—What did I say?
Doctor—You said you’d pay the
fee; if so be you know what it was.
Delendant —What did you say?
Doctor—l said I’d take the guinea
at first, and may be more at the end,
according to the sickness.
Defendant—Now, docthor, by var
tue of your oath, didn’t I say, ‘Kill or
cure* docthor, I*ll give you a guinea.*
And didn’t you say, ‘Kill or cure, l’.l
take if?*
Doctor—You did; and I agreed to
the bargain. Now, I want the guinea
accordingly.
Defendant—Now, docthor, by var
tue of your oath answer this: Did you
cure my wife?
Doctor—No, she’s dead; you know
that.
Defendant —Then, docthor, by var
tue of your oath answer this: Did you
kill my wife?
Doctor—No; she died of her illness.
Defendant (to the bench) —Your
worship, see this. Yon heard him tell
our bargain. It was to kill or cure.
By vartue of his oath, he done neither,
and he axes Lis fee!
The verdict, however, went against
poor Pat, notwithstanding his ingenu
ity.— Chambers Journal.
Bill Arp can tell how old a cow is
by looking at her upper teeth.
The Canary that Talked Too
Much.
Annette's canary bird's cage, with
the canary in it, was brought into the
library and hung upon a hook beside
the window.
Out popped a mouse from a hole be
hind the book-case.
‘Why, what are you doing here,
canary?' she said. ‘I thought your
place w’as the bay-window in the din
ing-room.'
‘So it is—so it is !' begimrng with
a twitter, answered tho canary ; ‘but
they said I talked too much !’ ending
witn a trill.
‘Talked !' repeated the mouse, sit
ting up on her hind logs and gazing
earnestly at him. ‘I thought you only
sang ?'
‘Well, singing and talking mean
about thesame thing in bird-language/
said the canary. ‘But goodness g-r-r
--racious !’ he went on, swinging rapid
ly to and fro in his little swing at the
top of his cage, ‘ 'twas they who talk
ed so much—my mistress and the
doctor’s sister not me. I said scarce
ly a word, and yet I am called a chat
terbox, and punished—before compa
ny, too ! I feel mad enough to pull
out my yellowest feathers, or upset my
bath-tub. Noiv, you seem like a sen*
sible little thing, mouse, and I'll tell
you all about it—what they said, and
what I said—and you shall judge if 1
deserved to be punished.
‘The doctor’s wife and doctor's sis
ter called/
‘lt is a lovely day !' they said.
‘A lovely, lovely, lovely day !' sang
I. ‘The sun shines bright—the sky
is blue—the grass is green—yes love
ly, lovely, lovely,—and I'm happy,
happy, happy, and glad, glad, glad.’
‘They went right on talking, though
1 sang my very best, without paying
the slightest attention to mo ; and
when I stopped I caught the words,
‘So sweet/ from my mistress, aud then
I sang again :
‘ Sweet,'sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
sweet, sweet is the clover—sweet is
the rose—sweet is the song of the bird
—sweet the bird—sweet the clover—
sweet the rose—the rose—the clover
the bird—yes, yes, yes—sweet, sweet,
sweet. And I paused to take breath
I heard someone say, What a noise
that bird makes ! how 1 mdly he sings.
‘How loudly he sings ! how loudly he
sings !' repeated I, ‘ how loudly he
sings!—the bird, the bird, the beau
tiful bird—sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet
■' But suddenly my song ended,
for my mistressgot up, unhooked my
cage, saying, ‘Canary, you're a chat-,
terbox ; you talk too much,’ and she
brought me in here.
‘And really, mouse, as you must see,
I didn't sty more titan a dozen or so
words. What do you think about it ?'
‘Well/ said the mouse, stroking her
whiskers and speaking slowly, 'you
didn‘t say much, but it strikes me you
talked a great deal.’
‘Oh !‘ said the canary putting his
head on one side and looking thought
fully at her out of his right, bright,
black, round eye. But just then the
mouse heard an approaching footstep,
and without even saying good-bye,
she hurried away to the hole behind
the book-case. — Margaret Eytinge , in
St. Nicholas.
The ait of advertising is being
brought down to a decidedly line point,
and when an ag< nt sends you an inch
advertisement to insert at your very
lowest rates, and accompanies it
with a six inch local notice, which lie
wants put in for nothing, you can't
help but admire his acreage of ‘cheek/
and wish you had a gun that would
shoot a thousand miles, and kill the
fellow you are think ng of, without
taking aim.
An exchange received the following
answer: ‘Stop sending me the jernel
enny more ass jmu dident notis the
bigg iiogg mi husband butchered sun
day and it dont fit mi pant*y shelvs
ennyhow. J lie husb no the hogg
wavd 387/ *
PPI
A. sentiment for printers: May you
always be able to justify yourselves
by giving clean proofs of your actions.
‘Marriage? Pooh!’ said a spinster
aunt to her sixteen-year-old niece.
‘Don’t mention it/ 'Men don’t slum
it,’ was the quick reply, ‘it is you.’
1 ■
They say that the Indian name for
editor is ‘Woraktocheneslihekawhaw/
That’s what we always thought it was.
It means ‘tired and hungry/ probably.
The author of a work called ‘Three
Words to the Drunkard,’ asked Theo
dore Hook to review it. ‘Oh, my dear
fellow, that I will do it in three words
• —‘Pass the bottlel’ f
If editors printed everything they
are asked to print, and suppressed
cry thing they are asked to suppress,
how little their journals would deserve
to be called newspapers.
• ♦♦♦—
‘Mamma, I know Avhy papa calls you
honey/ triumphantly cried a youngs
ter. ‘Because he thinks I am sweet,
d> ar/ ‘No; it’s because you have so
much comb in your hair/
A person who had obtained a free
railway pass, asked the road agent if
‘lie could not embrace his wife/ ‘Prob
ably/ the official answered; ‘but I
prefer to see her before promising
positively ’
Mr. Gough and Mr. Murphy say we
must not drink malt or spirituous lis
quors; Dio Lewis says coffee and tea
are poisonous; the Herald of Health
cautions us against drinking icc-water.
What can we drink, anyhow?
It is when a dry goods clerk of 97
pounds weight attempts to help from
a farm wagon a farmer's wife of 203
pounds weight, that the reporter seats
himself contentedly on the curbstone
and waits for the catastrophe.
Editor to Amateur Reporter (and it
was a fact, too) Well, how much will
the report of the meeting make?
Novice—Eli! well, maybe a column.
Editof—Too much; give half.
Novice, (with perfect sang froid ) —
Yes, sir; which half?
llow is it that people can never sec
for themselves what is in the news',
paper. You may bet your boots if
any one has occasion to write to a
newspaper about something personal
to himself he will commence: ‘Sir, my
attention has been called/ &c.
An exchange informs us that ‘an
lowa school mistress has been dis
charged, because, for the amusement
of the children during recess, she stood
on her head. One of the trustees
chanced to see tliQ feat/ lie must
have been blind if he had not seen
her feet.
Somehow or other, says the Ilawk
eye man, there is something in the
I expression in the eye of a venerable
\\ iiliam goat, as he lurks around a
livery-stable waiting for an incautious
customer to come in and order a rig,
that makes you think Of the Russian
array at Constantinople contemplating
the movement of the British fleet.
—
*
A man to whom some wonderful
: story was told on the authority of a
j penny paper, declined to believe it,
saying he distrusted all he saw iu
‘cheap prints/ ‘Why shouldn't you
I believe the cheap papers,' he was
| asked, ‘as soon as the others?' ‘Be
cause/ was the ready answer, ‘I don’t
think they can afford to speak the
truth for the money/
SO 9 2