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2 from them, and found Maggie and me, and together we went to the cottage. I can’t tell you all that followed; but our grateful • hearts joined m thanksgiv ing to Heaven for his deliverance. Jamie could explain everything now; he had seen Milward and Butler coming from the' vestry of the church on the ji jo-ht of the lire," and the smell of smoke and their excited manner, told him plainly what their errand had been. It was this terrible knowledge that had made him so nervous when he returned home. He doubted whether to divulge the secret or not. He came to the con clusion, Monday night, that it was his duty to make it public; but Milward and Butler, fearing this, had anticipated him, and, by perjuring themselves, had secured Jamie’s arrest. Then the lad saw how useless it would be to make a charge against his accusers, and so he resolved to let Justice work out her own victory. Six months later, Jamie and Maggie were married, and Lawyer Carnan was present at the wedding, and he gave to Jamie a receipted bill for his services, and to Maggie the finest dress you ever beheld Jamie stiil works in the factory, but to this day, no one has seen Milward and Butler in our neighborhood. It is in California they’re living, I’m told. Dreadful Consequences of News paper Reading. —What can there be in the perusal of the daily journals and pe riodical literature in general, to misguide men into tricks ? It seems to have that effect. I never frequented a reading room without being annoyed by the little nervous habits of some of its visitors. One man will make a tre mendous noise in his throat—not once or twice, which would matter very little, but at regular intervals, like a passing bell, and with much the same effect upon the nerves. It is impossible to help lis tening for its recurrence, and the difficul ty offixing the attention upon the page before one’s eyes, is very great under such circumstances. Another man will cross one leg over the other, and swing it, with an effect quite dazzling to his neigh bor; but the worst offender of all is the reader who has a trick of resting his toe on the ground, and causing his leg to vi brate in a distressing manner, of which I despair of conveying any idea, unless you Lavo aufferod from tho infliction Tho more interested he grows in what he is reading, the faster goes the limb, and you cannot defend yourself, as in the case of the swinging nuisance, by holding a broad sheet before your eyes, and so shutting him out of sight, for after a lit tle while the vibration becomes perccpti b'e over the whole room, until you might imagine voursell on board a steamer. Nay, it is far worse than the shaking caused by flic paddlewheel, or screw, for that is so honestly violent that the system soon becomes accustomed to it; whereas, the tremulous motion excited by the vi brating leg is of an irritating description over young and fresh. A constant read er of our local Athenaeum, (who, indeed, almost lives there,) has all these tricks and one more. On Wednesdays and Saturdays, be collects the weeklies as they are brought in, and sits upon them while he studies the newspapers. Then he draws them out, one by one, and reads them in a very leisurely manner. The committee have several times been ap pealed to to point out to him what a selfish habit this is, but they insist in condoning his peculiarities because he is a learned man, and took a high degree at his university. But this is wrong. Tricks should surely count before honors. [Dicken's All the Year Bound. A Contretemps. —A very well dressed individual, rejoicing in the appellation of James Townsend, appeared in the dock of the Recorder’s Court. His hair was uncombed, and hung in elf locks down his face; the face itself was haggard, and still retained impressions of a night of dissipation. “You are accused of being drunk.” “I am so informed, sir,” responded the culprit. “I shall have to line you,” said the J udge. “I presume so,” was the reply. “Where did you get drunk ?” “At the same place your Honor did.” “What, sir !” “Even so. But I attributed your Honor’s being in that condition to the oad quality of the whiskey. 1 wish your Honor would make the same exeuse for me.” It is needless to say the explanation was satisfactory, and the victim of bad whiskey was suffered to go on his way rejoicing. Dr. Herapath, whose name is well known as an. analytical chemist, has just died at Bristol, at the comparatively early age of forty-six. Life’s Volume. BY RBV. DK. DEEMS. Open before my wondering eyes, Great God, Life’s mystic Volume lies; I wait to see Thy hand define The fadeless record of each line. * No leaf once closed may I retrace, To add a word, or word erase; Nor may I guess the joy or gloom Inscribed on pages yet to come. • The past iu light I clearly count, Judge their intent, tell their amount; But, hid in clouds, I cannot see The history yet awaiting me. But, knowing this, that, great or small, My Father’s hand will write it all, I trust the future, and submit To what is past—what’s writ is writ. But bear this prayer, O, Power Divine! That lift’s each leaf and writ’st each line, That, where my hands have left a stain Christ s blood may make all pure again. Where the last sentence hath its end In mercy, Maker, Father, Friend, Write for the sake of Thy dear Son; “Servant of Jesus Christ, well done!” For the Banner of the South. Ike Carrier Dove. Giuseppe, Count Do la Farge. Theodorette. .Countess. Attala; her Daughter. Steward. Rinaldo, Lord DeLaigle. Ariile, Lady DeLaigle. Arman and, their Son. Estella their Daughter. Porter. Robbers. Giuseppe and Rinaldo live on ad joining estates, and are intimate friends. Rinaldo is about to move away, to an estate on the Pyrenees, where he is going during his son’s recess from study. The true reason is, that Arrfiand is in love with Attala ; and his parents do not wish his mind to be diverted from the pursuit of knowledge while so young. Attala and Estelle are sixteen—Ar mand is twenty. When Attala and Estelle parted, the former gave the latter her Carrier Dove. There was a band of Robbers in the country, who gave much trouble. Rinaldo hunts on the mountains, and is taken prisoner by the Robbers. Amile, Estelle, and Armand go to him, after diepatching the Carrier Dove to the Castle of Giuseppe, with a mess age. They all meet at the Castle. A sum of money is given to the Rob bers, who depart. Armand and Attala receive the bless ing of their parents, and the Dove dies. ACT r. (Giuseppe, in a front room of the Cas tle, looking out,.) Giuseppe—The sun is waning; and he has not come. What could have dis turbed him so much, as to make him omit so positive an engagement ? Ah ! he comes —I see him on his ambling pony, pacing along the hill-side. What on earth can induce Rinaldo to go away at this crisis, when we so much need his invaluable services here ? We, who have always been of one mind and one heart, are now to be thrown apart, from some whim, perhaps, of his wife’s. He comes not alone—l see another horseman with him—all grievances arc now forgotten, in the pleasure of wel coming my frieud. (Enter Rinaldo ) Giuseppe—How are you, my friend ; and why did you delay so long ? Rinaldo—My son has just arrived from Ostend; and rode over with me. He remained with the ladies in the gar den. Giuseppe—When do you leave us for the Pyrenees 1 Rinaldo —In two days more we will go. Armand has prepared himself with shot-bag and pouch, for hunting game on the mountains. Giuseppe—Let me sec how you will leave this region with your wife and child, when the country is infested with banditti. Rinaldo —We will be twelve strong and well-armed men ; and will defy them. When there, 1 have force enough to repel them, if they attempt any inva sion of my premises. Giuseppe—You are determined then to go ? We wiil have to resigu your aid in our councils, while you go to seek pleasure ou the mountains. Rinaldo—Not exactly pleasure ; hut that which gives pleasure. Giuseppe —That is just the same thing after all. Y r ou are not going of your own free will, Riualdof Rinaldo—Why do you think so, my friend ? Giuseppe —Y T ou have been distrait and cold ou that subject ; and I, who know you so well, cannot hut feel anx ious. Rinaldo—You are mistaken. I am not cold, but reserved. I have reasons for leaving here, which I cannot fully disclose. Giuseppe— That does not satisfy 7 my heart, which beats responsive to the voice of friendship. When you return to üB,uB, you will be distrait as ever, be cause the same cause will exist then that exists now. (Enter Theodorette.') Theodorette—Did I hear aright ? my ears are quick in detecting treason. Rinaldo—Too true, Countess. We leave this in two days. You must not blame me, hut my wife, who longs to breathe the mountain air. Theodorette—How, my Lord ; and away from her friends ? Rinaldo—\"ou must “ hie to the mountains,” while we are there ; and while you and Attala cheer the ladies, Giuseppe, Armand and I, will pursue the hunt. We will feast you on moun tain food ; and re-in vigor ate all for the next season here. Theodorette—l could not resist such a temptation ; and if the Count and At tala go, I would have my little world with me. {Euler Attala with a Dove, nettled on her shoulder) Attala—Ob, Lord DeLaigle, what will I do, when you take Estelle away from us ? Rmaldo—You must pet your little Dove, until she comes hack ; and be sure and l ring it with you, when you come to see us. Attala—l will, most certainly ; and hope we will not be forgotten when you get up among the clouds and rainbows. Rinaldo—l will promise you that, to our eyes, the rainbow’s tint, shall never exceed in beauty, the “ couleur d'rose ” tints of our friendship. (Enter Giuseppe and Armand, talking.) Giuseppe—You will be sure, Armand, to return for the true prize, when the right time conies ? Armand—ls I do not, Count, mark me down for a culprit, unworthy of a thought, and dead to every feeling of friendship. Giuseppe—l will insure you my sin cere good wishes, by giving you this precious ring, which has been on my T finger since the first dawn of manhood. (Theodorette and Rinaldo approach them. Attala shrinks back, apparently fondling her Dove ; but really looking over it at Armand, who now approach es her. They go to a windoiv near, and converse opart. lie takes the Dove Jrom her hand.) Theodorette—Will you tell us, too, Giuseppe, what this compact is about ? No si crets among such friends as we are ! Giuseppe—We will tell you all about it at another time. At present, it is a little keepsake between Armand and myself. (The Curtain Falls.) ACT 11. (Theodorette and Attala, conversing.) Attala —“ Querida Madras I wish to give a parting gift to Estelle—what shall it be? Theodorette —Your love is the best offering you can bestow, Attala. What gift can compare with that ? Attala—She has that already, “ mia Madrc ; ” but 1 feel that 1 must give her something else, by which she can re member me. Theodorette—Then you fear that she will forget you ? Attala—No, no, “ querida Madre ” —I do not fear that. On the contrary, I feel, most surely, that Estelle will never cease to love me ; but I wish to bestow a gift ou her, before she goes away. Theodorette—What will you give her ? Attala—l will bestow upon Estelle, that which I love the most, my Carrier Dove. Theodorette—Oh, Attala, why give so simple a gift, and yet one you so much value as the Dove ? Attala—For that very reason, “ que rida Madrc because it is simple. Es telle wiil love it the more. Theodorette —Very well, “ querida nina ;” let it he, as you wish. Attala—Today we part, “ miquerida Palomaf you must love Estelle; and do her bidding well, “ mi dulce.” Theodorette —Here they come now. Let us part with our friends with forti tude. [Exeunt omnes. (The day before they leave. Enter Amile, Estelle, and Armand.) Theodorette —Welcome, friends ! Ar mand, you have just come in time to hid us farewell. Armand —Oh, Countess ! I hope to be often here before the time comes fur my return to books. Why, a ride here would be nothing more than a good day’s hunting. Theodorette—Y r ou will be welcome at all times. Now, Amile, let us leave the young people together. We will go and walk upon the lawn ; and talk of the past and the future. Let us for this once forget the present, that tries to bring us tears aud sorrow. (Theodorette and Amile go out and walk upon the lawn in front of the Castle. Enter Estelle, Attala, and Armand. Estelle—Oh Attala ! we had such a charming walk over here—the trees —the sky—the flowers—the stream ; and all the twittering birds, seemed conspiring together, to make us regret leaving them. Attala—l am glad, Estelle, that your walk over here was so lonely. By its beauty, you and Armarlllwlß remember us, when you are faraway 7 . I like to be remembered in gentle and beautiful things Armand—Then you will always be remembered, Lady Attala—never, never do I forget (aside) but, I have pro mised. {He goes to the window and looks out upon the lawn) Estelle—“ Querida Hermano what are you doing, looking so attentively out of the window ? Armand—l was looking at the two walkers on the lawn ; and thinking there was nothing more beautiful on Earth, than a friendship between two lovely women. {Attala, Estelle, and Armand looking through the window at Theodorette and Amile walking.) Attala—No one could doubt their love, could they, Estelle ? Estelle—No, indeed—separation can never blunt their affection. Armand—Shall I tell y r ou, Lady At tala, why I love to behold such a friend ship as that ? Attala—Yes, if vou wish to tell it, {She fondles her Dove which is perched upon her wrist.) Armand—Well; it is because their tongues are free to express their thoughts. They are ngtobliged to say “yes,” when they mean “no,” or, to say “no,” when they mean “yes.” Their love is, to me, like a beautiful river, gliding smoothly on between hanks of flowers. Attala—Oh, Armand ! you are al ways talking in conundrums. Just look at rny Dove, how contented she is. Armand—And well may it be. Let us send it sailing out cf the window. {He takes the Dove from her and makes a motion, as if he would throw it out of the window) Estelle—Come, let us send it with a token to querida Madre and the Count ess. Attala—Well, let us try 7 it. You hold the Dove, Armand ; and I will tie this blue ribbon on its wing. Armand—And if it performs its mis sion well, Lady Attala, shall we receive it as a good token ? Attala —Oh! yes; and a token oflove to our mothers. Hie away, 11 mi dulce ” — hear the message of our love. {She tosses it from her hand.) Estelle —Oh, sec how she soars aloft ; and how beautifully the ribbon floats in the air, as she descends ! Armand—Look at it. Oh! Lady At tala, the token is good. The Dove lights between them. Attala—They look up towards us, and recognize the messeuger. You see your Madre nods ; and knows the rib bon. It is hers. Armand—So much the better. It makes the token more complete. Attala—Conundrums again, Armand! {Enter Giuseppe , and Rinaldo in con versation.) Giuseppe—l wish, Rinaldo, when you go to the mountains, you would keep an eye for a hand of men who arc doing much mischief in the country. Rinaldo—l will certainly feel hound to do so. Have you had anew case for trial to-day ? Giuseppe—Yes, and they are con tinally recurring. Rinaldo—l ain not surprised at any thing attempted by them—they are cer tainly fiends in human shape. Giuseppe—lt seems so, indeed. It is impossible to gain any influence with them. They are like the Frenchman’s flea, that even when you put your thumb upon it, “ is not there.” Rinaldo —Even so ; and that is an element that belongs alike to the Devil, and those taught by him. Are you like v to condemn any one in the present ease Giuseppe —I fear not. We have adopted vigilant means to detect them ; hut they, as yet, allude us. Rinaldo—l hope that we may suc ceed iu punishing them. It would be a blessing to our country. Giuseppe—Could we ouce find out the plans they adopt for concealment, wc might hope to ferret them out of their dens. Rinaldo —I have heard that they li avc even gone so far as to assume the vest ments of the Church, to cover villainous deeds. Base scoundrels ! Giuseppe —Is your estate upon the mountains secure from their encroach ments ? Rinaldo—Yes, as much, or even more so, than the one here. The ten antry list is larger; and they are, g ( > ne . rally speaking, faithful herdsmen, and industrious vine growers. Giuseppe—Do examiue well every clue you can get. Even among y o u r faithful herdsmen and vine growers there may be some villains. Rinaldo—There may be. (They approach the window.) Giuseppe —Look at tho girls. They are beckouing us from below. What a pity it is to separate them, Rinaldo. Such a friendship as theirs, is Wurth preserving. Rinaldo —Forever ! but what is for ever in this world ? It will live in per petual bloom —extending beyond time. Giuseppe—Do they not hear their ex pected separation nobly ? They are playing and laughing together. They toss the Dove in the air. from one to the other; and the gentle thing seems to partake of their enthusiasm. Rinaldo—Let us go down. The Ladies are seated in the bower. Behold them awaiting us ! * Giuseppe—Well, come, let us go; and then, we will have refreshment for the last time before you leave us. May God bless you, Rinaldo, and yours. {Refreshments are brought in, after which a Chariot drives up to the door.) Rinaldo—Come, mi querida chequita, Amile, the Chariot waits. (Enter Amile and Theodorette.) Amile—Yes, I come, Rinaldo You get Estelle, while Theodorette and I will go by the bed of violets, and secure a few, to place in my little book of mem ory so sweet will be the remembrance of my friends to me. Theodorette—Here is a pretty cluster of them, Amile, surrounded by “ forget me nuts ;” press them just as they are; and let us make up our minds, my friend, never to get old. Giuseppe—Who is it that says they are never going to get old ? Theodorette— {laughing.) Amile and Giuseppe—Just hear that, Rinaldo. Time advances, and play's his pranks on all human kind, and, behold ! here are two of the gentle sex, who declare they never will get old! Rinaldo—Aud, they never will, mark my word for it. Their hearts will re main young, when many 7 younger are dead. True friendship is a charmer, my friend. Amile—Oh, but we have a charm which surpasses what you term friend ship. There is a Divine Love greater tiian that in our hearts, that gives the inspiring thrill of anew life. Rinaldo—Oh ! what do you mean, “ chiquila ” Amile ? Emile—it is the love wc have for the Mother of our Lord ! Is that not more pure—more elevating, than any earthly friendship ! It gives a thousand charms to pure love. Rina!do—True—true—true —mi chi quit.a Amile is right. She looks ahead; and secures the blessings for us in anti cipation. Giuseppe—Here comes, Attala and Estelle, half smiles and half tears. Why have you caged your Dove, Attala ? Attala—You will see directly, “ quc rido Padre .” (They stand on the edge of the terrace) Rinaldo—Come Amile ; into the Chariot, now, Estelle. There you arc all fixed. Attala/—One moment, Lord DeLaigle, if you please. (She rests her foot on the step of the Chariot , and places the cage iviih the Dove in Estelles lap.) Here, my sweet Estelle, you must take this precious Dove as your own. Let it whisper to your heart every day, of me, “ mi dulceP Estelle—Oh, Attala ! Is it possible, you give me what is so dear to you ? It will be ever dear to my. heart, my friend. Attala—For that reason, I bestow it upon you,’ my Estelle, that you may know how much I love you. Lord IL- Laigle waits—farewell Lady Amile — fare well “m id idee. ' ’ ( (Jit rta in Fall-■ < -J [to ije continued, j Napoleon was a very awkward dancer. On one occasion, he danced with a Countess, who could not conceal her blushes at his ridiculous postures. ' )n leading to her seat, he remarked —"Cw fact is, madam, that my forte lies not so much in dancing, myself, as in making others dance.” It is feared that Gottschalk, the end i nent pianist, was one of the victims ot tne : recent earthquake in South America.