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VOL. XI.
The Garden Gate.
The sun in the West was seeking- his
bed,
With curtains of gold and cushions of
red ;
As she waits and watches, watches and
waits,
With white hands clasped on the garden
gate.
Her cheek is pale—jet her face is fair,
And the heavy bands of her braided
hair
Glitter and glow like a jeweled crown,
Where the amber drops of light fall
down.
Her cheek is pale—and oh! there lies
A sadness deep in those restless eyes;
A weary look, as if despair
Had almost gaiued a shelter there.
Unseen by her, the glowing day
In the misty twilight flies away!
Unseen by her, the shadows pale
Are creeping up the dewy vale.
Still ffir away are those restless eyes,
Where the broad road, white in the
moonligght lies,
One moment with quivering hope elate,
Then raining tears on the garden gate.
On, where is he whose loitering feet
The palc-browed watcher would bound
to meet ?
Has all the wealth of that heart been
vain,
To charm the wanderer home again ?
Does he roam where the skies are ever
fair,
And the orange blossoms perfume the
air ?
Where the diamonds blaze and the jewels
shine—
Does lie seek the gems of Golconda’s
mine ?
Go, ask the shrieking winds, that fly
From stormy caves in the northern sky;
Go, ask the waves, that ceaseless moan,
With a funeral dirge in every tone.
lie sleeps where the dancing Naiads sing.
And the rosy stems of coral spring;
Where the feath’ry sprays of the sea
flower twine,
And the golden sands of the Caspian
shine.
Flown is the soul that his pulses thrilled,
And his noble heart is forever stilled;
And his feet shall come, early nor late,
Never again to the garden gate.
A PISTOL SHOT.
FROM THE GERMAN.
Garrison life in Russian provincial
towns, which cannot afford so much as a
theatre—not even an indifferent one—is,
you may take my word for it, something
extremely monotonous, dreary aud dull.
In the morning, parade; then a couple
of hours at the riding-ground; at noon,
a frugal dinner with the Colonel of the
regiment, or, perhaps, at a miserable res
taurant; in the evening, cards and drink
ing—there you have it all! Not a single
family was there that might have opened
its hospitable bosom to us. We should
ered one another like a band of royster
ing students, and saw of God’s beauti
tul world nothing beyond our own green
uniforms.
One solitary person, not connected
with the military, a man of perhaps for
ty, gave us the pleasure of his society.
Bis evidtnt knowledge and experience
invested him with a certain authority
among us, though his sharp tongue and
cynical bearing exercised over the young
members of our set an influence scarcely
beneficial. Something of mystery seem
ed to surround him. He looked a true
Russian, and yet bore a foreign name
Be had been in the army, too, he inform
ed us; but for what reason he had quitted
Be service at comparatively so easy an
age and secluded himself iu such a sor
i
rowful nest as MoJogda, he did not make
known to us. Let the weather be what
it might, he always went on foot, wrapped
|in a black paletot, somewhat the worse
tor wear. To us officers his table was
ever open. To be sure, it rarely offered
more than two or three dishes, prepared
with very moderate skill by his valet and
factotem; but for this meagre display of
the substantials he fully idemnified his
guests by the abundance and excellence
of his Burgundy and Champagne. No
body knew what were his present means
or the sources of his income, whatever
it might be; and there was a curtness in
his manner which forbade our venturing
to inquire very closeiy into these mat
ters. Ilis library for the most part con
sisted of military works, with a few of
Gogol’s and Thrginjeff’s romances, which
he was ever ready to loan, and never
asked to be returned, just as he himself
invariably neglected to bring back a bor
rowed book.
His sole occupation seemed to be pis
tol-shooting; and the walls of his room,
from the marks of the bullets he had shot
into them, appeared like the interior of
a vast beehive. A rich collection of
costly and handsome pistols formed the
only adornment of his apartment. And
what a splendid shot he was! I would
not have hesitated a moment to permit
him to shoot an apple from my apaulette.
At the time to which my story goes
back, dueling was much more common
than it is at the present day. An officer
then who had not fought at least one
duel was generally regarded as a “milk
sop,” if net actually a coward. Duelling,
therefore, was a very frequent topic of
conversation among us officers. But no
matter how often the current of our dis
course turned upon this subject, it was
noticed that Sylvio—this was our friend’s
name—never joined in it; and, if at any
time asked whether he had ever fought,
he would give a curt answer iu the affirm
ative, without entering into further
paaticulars. It was evident that the
question annoyed him. Ilis conscience
—such was the general impression
among us—probably pricked him for
having at some period brought a bloody
offering to his skill. But, however this
might be, none of us would have thought
of accusing him of cowardice. For
this reason an incident presently occurred
which became to us the occasion of no
little wonder.
One evening we dined at Sylvio’s—
some ten of us. As usual, the wine cir
culated pretty freely, so that by the time
the cloth was removed we were iu a high
state of excitement and clamoring for
our host to “make a bauk” at faro. At
first, he very courteously declined; but,
finally yielding to the entreaties of his
guests, he threw fifty ducats upon the ta
ble. We seated ourselves around and
the play began. As was his wont,
while the game went on Sylvio maintain
ed a deep silence. Never a generous
player, he was also strict in keeping his
•accounts, which he did by setting down
upon the table, with a piece of chalk, the
sum lost to him. This habit was well
known to most of us. To-day, however,
there was a young officer with us who
had but lately joined the ‘regiment, and
to whom Sylvio and his peculiarities were
yet staange The new corner played ab
sently. He lost. Sylvio seized his chalk
and wrote down the amount on the table.
The Lieutenant started up and demanded
an explanation. Sylvio, however, kept
on dealing with his usual calmness.
The Lieutenant now brushed the chalk
marks from the table. They were re
newed with the greatest composure.
Heated by wine, excited by play, and
irritated by the laughter of his com
panions, the lieutenant, fancying himself
insulted by Sylvio, suddenly snatched a
candlestick from the table and hurled it
with blind fury at our host. Nimbly
avoiding the missile, Sylvio arose with
flashing eyes and pale wi h anger. For
a moment there was a dead silence.
AHGLISTAI, GLY., .TYNTT-ARY 8, 1870.
“Out of this, sir!” cried our host ;
“and thank God, young man, that this
happened with me!”
I he Lieutenant also arose, and with tho
words, ‘if you feel yourself aggrieved,
sir, I am at your service at any time,”
took his departure.
None of us doubted in the least but
that this scene would have a bloody se
quel, and we already looked upon our
comrade as a dead man. We continued
playing a short time longer, and then,
seeing that our host was not entering
heartily into the business, we broke up.
On our way home we could talk of
nothing else than the vacancy our squad
ron was soon to have.
The following morning we met at the
riding-ground, inquiring of one another,
“Is the Lieutenant yet alive ?” But, see!
there be comes himself, fresh, radiant,
and cheerful. To our astonishment, he
had received no message from Sylvio.
Shaking our heads, we now went in
quest of the latter, and found him iu his
own yard, sending ball after ball into a
card which he had set up on the stable
door. With the equanimity natural to
him, be received us as if nothing had
occurred, and wasted not a word over the
difficulty of the previous evening. Syl
vio’s conduct damaged him considerably
in the estimation of the officers ; for the
armed might, which these men set above
every other virtue, pardoned the last of
all any deficiency in personal courage.
But little by little the unpleasant circum
stance was forgotten, and Sylvio again
obtained his old influence and his early
place in our circle. I alone was unable
to evercome my feelings and to approach
him with my funner confidence. At our
first acquaintance my romantic imagina
tion had drawn me toward him. He
seemed to me an undiscovered enigma.
I believe also that he had taken a strong
er liking for me than for tho rest. The
sarcasms that he launched unsparingly
at rny comrades were never directed
against me; and he had also shown to
me a greater degree of open-heartedness
than to aDy one else.
After the event I have just related,
however, I could not rid myself of the
reflection that his honor as a man was
no longer unstained. I cculd not look
him as frankly in the face us formerly.
Sylvio was too keen-sighted not to per
ceive this. It evidently pained him.
Several times lie sought to bring about
an explanation of his conduct, but I
avoided the subject, and finally he de
sisted from the attempt.
Those who dwell in great cities can
but faintly realize what a sensation the
most trifling occurrences excites in a
a small country town. Even the com
ing of the mail-coach throws the inhabi
tants of a little village into commotion.
Such a commotion every Tuesday and
Friday brought to us, for it was on these
days that our mails arrived. On these
days our regimental post-office was
thronged—-this one expecting money from
home, another letter, and a third news
papers, which soon became common
property and were devoured with eager
ness. Letters were usually opened upon
the spot, and the news they contained
shaied with the rest. Sylvio also re
ceived his letters in our bag, and so i*
happened one day that a letter was hand
ed to him, which he tore cheu with au im
patience of manner t Arv j unusual to
him. His eyes flashed lightning whilst
he flew through it. As, h wever, every
ono was just then busy with his own af
fairs, this was unnoticed save by myself.
“Gentlemen!” suddenly cried he, in a
loud and excited tone, “I leave you this
very night. Tbeg of you, thtrefoie, to
graut me at noon to-day, for the last time,
the honor of your company. You, too,
Captain,” turning to me, “I shall most
certainly expect.
I bowed silently, he went his way, and
wc left the oflice with the promlsr of nnes
ing together at his room at tie hour of
noon.
Punctual to the hour, I was there and
found my comrades already assembled.
We proceeded to the table. Our friend
ly host, to-day, almost nervously cheer
ful, soon infected us with his good humor.
Diuncr over, Sylvio took farewell of
each of his guests with a warmth and
kindliness of manner that won all hearts.
When my turn in the leave-taking oame
he held me fast. “Stop a few moments I
beg of you,” said he, as he clasped my
hand; “I must speak with you alone.”
I remained. We sat upon his sofa in
profound silence, smoking our tsnhi
bouks. Sylvio’s hilarity had vanished.
His face was deadly pale, but his eyes
glowed through the cloud of tobacco
smoke which blew around him. Thus
passed a few speechless minutes; then he
at length broke the silence which had
begun to give me a sense of pain and
uneasiness.
“Between us two an explanation is
needed,” he commenced, in a hoarse,
hesitating voice ; “as for what the others
think, that troubles me but little. You,
however, I like, aud I do not wish to
leave with you an erroneous impression
calculated to give you a bad opinion of
me. I have no doubt it appeared very
singular to you that I did not at the time
call the drunkard to an account. Is it
not so, my friend ? It was for that, per
uaps that you kept aloof from me. Now
look you, Captain, I could easily place
my proceeding to the account of my
generosity, but I never He? Could I
have made him bite the dust without risk
on ray part—had it not been that my
own life would have been imperilled—l
would not have spared his!”
Amazed, almost terrified, by the cyni
cal candor, I stared at him. Such an
avowal I had not expected.
“1 sec your astonishment,continued
Sylvio ; “but I was forced to do as I did.
Indeed l had no right to put my life at
stake, for some six years ago I received
a box on the ears, and he who gave it to
me yet lives!”
My wonder increased.
“What! did you not fight after an in
sult like that?” I earnestly demanded.
“Did au insurmountable obstacle separate
you from your enemy ?”
‘ Oh, as for that matter, I certainly
fought, and here is the proof of it?”
Aud he took from a box an old hussar
cap, with a bullet through it just over the
forehead. “Hear further,” he continued.
“I belonged to a regiment of hussars. It
was ever my way to be the first in all
things, aud, and so, as in my young days
it was considered ‘good tone’ to bluster
and riot, I became the arrantest of roys
ters and wranglers. The hardy drink
was then deemed a fit subject for com
mendation, and, therefore, I even went
beyond the mad Dolgorucky, whose
drunkenness has been celebrated in song.
Duels were of daily occurence in our
regiment, and in them 1 participated
either as a principal or a second. My
comrades held me iu high esteem. But
on the other hand, our chief regarded
me as an irrcmdeiable evil, with which
the regiment was affl cted. I was a!ready
repodng proudly upon rny laurels when
a young Count got himself transferred to
our corps. Youth, good looks, courage
aud wealth were united in his person.
You may well imagine the position he
soon held in our circle. I felt my throue
beginning to totter. Now, hearing my
name in everybody’s mouth, the count
became de rous of making my acquaint
ance He sought my friendship. But
jealous of my presumptive successor, I
repelled him coldly. My rebuff he met
with a smile. This only caused me to
hate him. That seemed to give him
little trouble ; but me his success, equal
ly with my comrades and with the ladies,
rendered absolutely furious. I sought to
quarrel wi*h him; but lie kept cool, re
plied to all my cutting speeches aud sa
tirical remarks witn still more witty re
pa tees, and laughed at me ; and, what
was to me tho worst of all, had all the
rest laughing with him. At length, at
a ball given to us by a nobleman of the
neighborhood, I could no longer control
my hatred. Here I once more beheld
him the preferred pet of the ladies, even
winning the smiles of the fair dame at
whose feet I had myself been vainly-sigh
ing. This was the one drop too much,
and so, during a quadrille, I whispered a
brutal insuL in his ear. That certainly
he could not retaliate with a witty retort,
and*—he struck me in the face" Some
ot the ladies tainted. We were separ
ated, and both left the ball-room.
“The rising sun beheld me on the
dueling-ground, awaiting with impatient
suspense the coming of my hah and antago
nist. At length he made his appear
ance, accompanied by his seconds, saun
tering leisurely along, eating cherries out
of his kepi with an air of gaiety and
carelessness that almost drove me mad
Our seconds loaded the pistols and paced
off the ground. I had the first shot, but
my pulse beat so violently that I felt I was
no longer sure of my aim. I offered to
renounce my advantage. To this mv ad
versary would not consent, and the mat
ter was decided by lot. For une favor
ed him. Raising his pistol, he fired al
most immediately. The ball pierced my
cap—here! It was now my turn. Eager
ly did I scrutinize his countenance in the
hope of perceiving there a shadow of
the fear of death, but in vain. He con
tinued quietly to eal his cherries, snap
ping the pits at my feet. This coolness
added to my exasperation. Why, thought
I, kill this man to whom life is of so lit
tle consequence ? A deviish idea flash
ed through my brain. I lowered my
pistol. T fear ,Count,’ said I, ‘that you
are not sufficiently prepared to go before
your Maker since you relish your break
fast so capitally. I shall wait until you
are through with it!”
“Oh, you do not disturb me in the
least. However, do as you please. You
have the right of shooting at me: exer
cise it whenever you like, whether soon
er or later is aIT one to me.”
‘lon heard him?’ said I turning
now, to the .seconds. “Whether sooner
or later is all one to the gentleman.
Then, most assuredly, I shall not shoot
l)-day!’
“The duel was at an end. It ok my
departure and came here. But every
day I have brood and over my revenge, and
at last here it is.”
He drew from his pocket the letter he
had received in the morning.
“A friend writes here;
ihe person you know of has recent
ly been married. His wife is young and
beautiful, and he is madly in love with
I*!* I .’ divine who that person is ?
I his very day I shall seek him out and
assure myself whether he can now look
death in the eye so smilingly as he did
when he came to fight tne, eating cher
ries out of his kepi.”
With these words lie arose, and with
hurried steps, like a tiger in his cane,
walked across the room. His servaut an
nounced tint the horses were ready. He
pressed my hand, sprang into the coach,
which contained but two pieces of bag
gage, his traveling-bag and his pistol -
case, aud drove off.
Years had passed since that day. I
had heard nothing more r s. Sylvio, and
had almost forgotten him. The service,
which yielded mo no laurels and brought
me no advancement, I had long aban
doned, and had settled on my little estate
in Mohilcw.
Four worsts from my estate lies the
chateau of Count Belusencky. Iu the
second Spring of my rural retirement
whieh, to tell the truth, had by this time,
become almost insupportably lonesome
and t( dious, it was rumored that ihe eh t
reau, hitherto unoccupied since 1 had
been living on iuy property, was about to
receive a visit from the beautiful Coiet
ess of Belosencky and her husband, v h >
were to spend the Summer there. Bu
mor was, fur once, light; for by the b
No. 43