The Southern literary companion. (Newnan, Ga.) 1860-186?, June 15, 1864, Image 1

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@cntt|ern gpiewry % STEPHENS & CO., \ ■ PaoPKiaraßs. vol. y. jf suits’ grpinlmrat. , V. * 153 C. \7. B wm, . . *. , Bdltraif. AVc givo U low noma of our Lruly Coq ‘ IriKutora: * Hi UvikA ni.orxT, Mna. T)n Withy.’ *M. A. (’A.KPHKI.L, .“ - K.vtk Tmipsmc, f : n V. X, JfcxxiNß*, M M. A. McCitmv''*, ‘ 4t Bai.uk A. Rkbut, ** A. T. D. Chapman, { ** 11. L. Bvrky, [Foil TUK COMPANION.] 6(RIMt BY BRACK IIKRMBKT. o ’Tia n quirt spdt; not u found is benrd. Sav-> the rippling of the little ftreum A# it Inins to hide frm the brig.it unnhenm—* AiWf th#* smaTi sweet note* of the mocking bird. ’Ti.s here that I wouM seek to gir.l My ooul for the ehnrp oomlwt of life ; For all my thoughts are rife With bitterneaai, one gcutle word Seems wafted from the realms of hlitft To still the wild i.uni|t that rave Like billows o'er n dark abyss. Above tliM spot no willows wnvo But the sweet ,w ild violets gently kiss— And the ui w drups neejx. o’er—My Mother’s Grave! I’nion Springe, AU. —————— - >• • ■ Only Comfortable ‘ I think,’ paid Mr. Oliver UudJington to !.:* wife, Harriet, one day near the ex piration of their honeymoon, ‘tlint 1 have begun Ihe with very fl.i t ring | pn*|wctp. True, lam not worth more than two thottPnnd dollars, and you hid noth'll;*. I don't mention this to vex you, my dfcarf It. was wi ll under-tood j previous to our umrr’age, that I tnu to , expect tt dowery with you. I think j that I was renjiika'iiy flortumite i” si cu ring you f.-r all that. I did not want a j i-w.U *„ :■ ji ‘an uian ill iTuiid Common sense, pwMcibl. features, a pier a lit r’isnoStiii.iKßiitid witli good house-keeping TjUaliliv.r. .Such a woman, I fin.ey l have seen red in yon, and, tiurcfdro, am quite p-iti-fied. lint a* I was snjilg I think 1 my pro: pen's Itro good - f,, r | ), ;IVO |S le Lest of lieal:li, and the l ist of e^,ypil lions — b ing a very skillful carpenter and -and I do not doubt hut th.it- in course of a few years, wo shall ho very well to do in the world, l sh ill bo in dustrious, ami you will be frugal and eco nomical, and I pee nothing to prevent us ’ from becoming rich. The ‘greatest for tune* in our country have been amassed from smaller begiuiegs than ours. There is Squire Kecpall, who it is said, had not • pair of shoes to his name when ho wae eighteen yea is old ; and now—’ \ •To his fert yojj mean my dear,’ -mid Mrs. Haddington, looking up from her sewing, and nodding toward* her hus band—‘ had not a pair of shoes to his “feet instead of Ilia name, you mean, my dear.’ •True, quite true, I! at riot. -liman that he did not oicn a pair of shoes in the world; and now he is the richest map, aud pays the largest taxes of any twin in .’ I'ike county. I'm told that he has made ’ it all by good nin!tng( t mentid fortunate speculation. And then there are the Stewarts j they live very comfortably, indeed, now ; though I have been credit-, ably informed that when they began housekeeping, they hud nothing in the world—not even a knife and fork.’ ‘ llow could they keep house without n house to keep ? ’ said Mrs. Haddington, ■again looking up with an rxpression of innocent tvonde? in her eyes; ‘they mutt -have had a house, Oliver, or they could not have begun housekeeping.’ ‘ Ilcm ! Well, I can't exactly say how dhat was, but I presume they rented some •.old shell, and wnitehcd along any way Jrfer a year or two. Hut at any rate they grew rich amazingly fast, and Mr. Btew -.nrt now owna two houses in town, and a ‘.remarkably pretty country seat, besides a’ .great deal of railroad stock, hank stock, and a tract of land in the richest part of Texas. His daughter, Albina, lias ro -eently come out a great belle, and bis son Frank is in College.’ ‘Ami a very wild, graceless fellow they „iy ho is,’ said Mrs. lluddington, ‘spen ding every cent of his father's hard earn ing* tha he can lay his hands on ateards and horse i-elngs and such like. If folks -who a c so into., U p Oo amassing money, could only just scc-. ow a great part of it wr 11 bo spent, I have no d ou ht but that they would grow discourage* ,hi„k “it best to enjoy a lrtln of their n,. a .y n . they go along throng, life. I'or nty I only want to be conn „■ fa Lie—l don’t j % |loimiiil;---§watc(l ta ffTiirnTtutc, JMeittfS, gtgtlpiiltute, §forticaltuw, §|ggwn* $(.• care to be rich. This toiling, and tug “pin'g, and fu--?hg today up property for to spend, is all foolishm-ps. f should like a good hoilWo well furnish ed—a small house would do'ug-very well my dear—a cottage with four largo airy rooms on the floor, mJ two chambers j above. It would bo my delight to keep it in order. The furniture should be pol ished every morning until you sec your face in it; and I should be particu larly careful to keep the lower rooms especially so di.rkcned by heavy curtains that no flies would infest thlfft. l'lies are my particular pact; and Mrs. Hudding ton bru-hed’a large one from her nose. ‘ I have no doubt, my dear,’ replied Mr. Haddington, ‘in regard to your house, keeping qualifications, and it shall bo my first enro to sec that you have a house tu keep. Necessity will demand that the cottage should at first bo very small, yet it should be comlorlablc; and by ntjd by, when my fortune is made, wo will have u fine place, with fountains in tire front yard and paintings in tho parlors, and” statuary, r.nd choice flowejs, and wo will spend our summers at the Spring's, and our winters in London.’ * Hut What time shall wo have left to enjoy the fountains, nnd paintings, and statuary?’ very sensibly qncrud Mrs lluddington. • . . ‘ \k by, there will be our autumns and , springs,’ said Mr Uu-’ding+mn., ‘tmprovi did for; and if (hire Cvereonrcs a season i when we do not care to travel, we can ; stay at homo, you know, and road amus ing books, and entertain our friends, and j enjoy our hon.e. Hut I will acknowl edge,’said Mr. Haddington, smiling, ‘that we are counting the chickens before the eggs arc hatched, as the saying is. We are ■ p anning pleasures while my fortune is yet to be made. It will be necessary for us to live very frugally until that time arrives.’ * * 1 I re pea r ,’ said M r-. Huddi ngtou, ‘lnW< 1 have lellj.e'smd, 1 ha.) ratji er, enjoy ouv money ris wo make it. and Ini I rather spent a summer now and ‘then at the springs when l am, young woman an and have a xest for society, than wait un til I nm old and and ‘Chepit, ami liavn trf’ be ■ wrapped in flaumls to keep off the rlwu ,mutism. I do not cr.we a largo” h uVoJ with fountains aud such like. As I Ij’c lore told you, I shall lie very well con-I tinted in a small cottage, with six roouis, •and two good faithful servants —a seam stress ‘to help me sew, and a cook to pre pare our food and look after the house.’ ‘Will, well,’ said her husband, ’ good naturrdly, ‘lt you don’t tccut to get rich, so much the better. You will not he apt : to bo discontented now when wc are jioor; aud as to your spending our money ns fast as we make it I am sura that my dear Hatty will never want to spend it foolishly ; so wo will opt. quarrel now about the time in which it shall be spent, •but will -rather apply ourselves to the making of it; and so saym", Mr. Oliver Huddington kissed his wile like an af fectionate husband, as he was- and went out to his work. It was not long before lie found the , very cottage that ho and his wife had nl ■ways agreed was .wanted. It hid four rooms on the lower flower, and two above. Moreover, there was a porch extoud ding along the whole front, with a small recess at the end ; and the chambers were remarkably well finished, and were soon prettily furuishedr One of -the front lower rooms, Mrs. Buddington set aside for a parlor—the opposite Bne was her family siting room ; hack or Unit was the din in room, and tint ot her was uspdl both for a library and bed room. luj short, her husband, as he looked through the whole alter it was furnished and darkened by curtains to keep out the flies, could not forbear from telling her, jesting ly that he.feared she was destined to be more than eow/ortable in her new quar ters. As sho had always declared that she wanted to bo ‘only comfortable,’ he th. ught that it would be a pity to have her have more enjoyment than sho covet ed. She laughingly replied by drivcing him off of tho premise* by wielding the hand of the duster, which she held in her hand, oyer his head, aud here the conversation ended. Hut in the course of a few days, Mrs. Huddington found thut there were sever al things wanted about the house to make her comfortable. One of the panncls i-*sa off the front door. The nin beat in NEWSTAN GEORGIA, ’WE'DN'KST)A-"5f * JTTTS"K 15.1864. | and spoil.<► her protty carpet. The troll neejcl cleaning out, and ore of the chim neys smoked. • Mr. lfuddington, however, r.s he bud foreseen, prospered hi business. Dollar* and dimes Howl’d into banks. Ho bought -TartrtM ‘srotTk atnl town property. ‘ 1 think,’ said lie to his wife alter they had been married five years, that we can : afford to visit tho spring* this summer, |if you vcyuld like to do so. True, wy_ fortune is not yet made ; not, by nny means rich; still, you said when wc were first married that all that you desir ed was to lio eonifortable. You thought it wisest to spend some of our money ns we went along. \Yo can go to the springs this summer. ‘ I do. not think that we can, by any means, afford to go, said his wife. ‘I waut two uyw rooms added to the housd; and as everybody’s parlors now a days is furnished with a piano, whether there is anybody in the house that cah play on it or not, I think that it’ is desirable that wo should have ono too 1 declare I have been fixing ever sinco wo were married, and atii not comfortable yot. \Ve Want a great-many things in. tho house. Sever al bolts oilmen t.) make into sheets and pillow-cases; and curtains ate needed for ono of the chambers, and I really think, Mr. lluddington, that 1 ought to h.vo a set of chi.ua. My old set is much broken j np.’ ‘Very well,’ said her husband, ‘buy what you like lor the house, I core noth ing for tho springs.’ ‘Wife,’'said our hero nga n, the next summer, when, by n fortunate speculation, ho had added several tTiousan i to his bunk * . stock, ‘ I think that wo cun (ford to buy us a carriage and horses. For my part* I am tired of trudging to church on f-Wt. We aro getting to bo pretty wall off in the world. That last speculation that 1 -entered into, turned out rcmxvkal ly well. •I think that T htWkbeUer cal! at Hruno, J&- ‘ _... I tv f'o VUmJik, ruul orucr one n:.du.~ We are now as rich as the Stew art sj - aml-Tri.cn 1 begun, you know I thought tlrat I should bo satisfied if my properly .quailed theirs. What any you? Mrs. Huddington coughed and moved uneasily in her chair. ‘ I do not think, Oliver, that it would be best to inc.tr so great an expense just now,’ she said. ‘True, ypff ivt fr very for tunate about that land ; but a good, easy carriage willoust eight or nine hundred dollars, aud then there arc tlie“horses to i buy and keep. Moreover I have been ! thinking that it is best to have a stair j made, running” from our new rooms into the chambers over head. It would then ! bo morli more eonifortable here.’ ‘But if I am ns fortunate in business as I hope to be,’ said Mr. Huddington, ‘1 shall build a large and commodious dwell ing house next summer, on the site of one of my town lot*. I looked out a very pretty building spot the other day-. There we can have the fountains that I used to talk about, and tin paintings, Ac.’i ‘I don’t think, that-wc arc worth! enough, ’ said Mrs. Huddington, ‘to war rant any such expenditures. I ant sure that I donjt care anything about being rich ; but then it is a very comfortable thought that you have something laid up against a rainy day, ns my father used to express it. I should really like to have fliis house undergo same repairs; but then I Can wait a few years longer. It is not comfortable as it is, but wo can live j in it, 1 suppose, us wc have been doing.’ Six years more glided away, and Mr. Jluddington paid the largest taxes in the county. His fortune wusdoublc that of Squire Kccpnl’s, aud thrcblc that of the Stewarts. One rainy day ho sot in the little cottage, busily Casting the 1 interest on some notes. ‘ Wife,’ said he looking suddenly np, ‘ shall we build us the new house this year, and travel to the springs and visit Loudon? I eaii well afford now to retire from business. . 1 am as rich as I care to be.’ Mr*. .Haddington looked up with a .puzzled face, ‘ I dtm’t know about it,’ she said. ‘lt doesn’t Benin to tno that we can afford to run- into such extravagances. It will cost a great deni to build as you want to; and a* to going to the spring* and visiting London, 1 think tho idea is alto gether chimerical.’ Sqaire Buddington hurst into a hearty laugh. ‘ When we begun,’ be said, ‘I de clared my determination to be'rich ; you : “ A PEOPLE’S EDUCATION IS A NATION’S BEST DEFENCE ’* only asked to be eomfbWable. I nm as rich ns I care to be ; but when will yon have cnoui'h to be ecmforUble. Thia house never can be made pleasant or con venient. You sre always complaining of one thing and another idwut the place. You have never been %omfortnb!c, nor will you suffer me to mako you so. Ava rice with'-some persons, is a hidden pss sion ; b it it is oftentimes the strongest, where’ it is the most latent.’ ..Mrs. Buddington saw the truth of her husband’s remarks, and was obliged to laugh ; but they still live in the cottage,, and have never been to the springs, oi* to London. Whether they will ever be in comfortable circumstances enough to enable them to visit those places, remains for Mrs. Huddington to decide. C. W. B. At The Turnpike G&to. R’.io secs the sh.vlowj creeping Across *lic turnpike grny; Ami the £uMeu light h #cn!i*g The last liuirr of the T.\/. Her eyes arc like the pnneics, , Thai In the.meadows elilne ; When the.younjf May pours across them Her gohletcof tiew wine. And like a pile sc.tm stretching v Betwixt the fields of rye ; She sees the Tong rtmd blending Is silver witli tho sky. I Site sees the palace-gardens, The t rim ?on, nnd tho gohi; Which the open gates of sunset Doth iii the west unfold. And at the brown g.iUi yrntching, She sees the lowing-kine Turn slowly from tho meadows, And cron tho white line. B it n sudden trail* has hurried The yearning from her face. dis&irssr For jnrt fcMi'.v'the rye bam, A figure tall b*e pest t And ttir young wlfc’rTVaMi is over, ■And the daylight geee ht lout. MV ,'tand nt the brown kite wntrlilrg, Anil iflV is that turnpike gray ; ” And . the promise- of God ilutli blossom In lire sunset of the dy 1 And death is tho. kindly angel, That comm whoa the years are rung Anti the tu* if, „r the distant ciiy Proclaim tlmt ©ur watch is dono ! v. r. t. •‘llight Round the Corner. *’ BV MISS. L. A DKtIfXSBXVK. jlt was, l believe, in the .year IS4I, — I that l took passage in tho “Empire,” j bound for Nor fork, Vn. It waß in the ! dreary month of December, when all ua j lure was robed in it* snowy shroud, and the heavens were arched with a boding canopy of storm, while the shrill wind* whistled through the rigging, like angry spirits on the wing. If my mind had become somewhat de pressed by tho gloomy aspect of earth and sky, it was not destined to find a cheer ing ray within ; for the cabin was sjs.aii, •dark, and dreary ; aud 1 discovered, irons ’ over, that I was likely to be the only fc | male passenger—a -circumstance, trivial lin itself, but not altogether pleasant to one travelling without an escort. The vessel was about to sail, and my last faint hope nearly extinguish :d, when to my delight •! distinguished a shrill fe male voice, above tumult of hoarse accents, ceiling ropes, -stowing of ttiggago, and words of command, and my heart leaped for joy. | 1 Was Hot deceived ; a gentleman and lady soon made their appearance, and three huge black trunks followed in the roar. The lady glanced about for a mo ment, with a troubled, dissatisfied air; — then turning to her companion said in a distinctly audible voice, “I do not like this vessel—l w ill not go, to day,” and turned to the door, ns if to leave at ogee, but the person addressed, stepped sudden ly before her, and gazed with a cold, for bidding eye, Into her pale, melancholy fuc-; when the lady, like one accustomed to the language of tho eye shrunk buck, nnd*bagan slowly to divest herself of her travelling apparel, which sho threw in a careless manner upon the table. I thought there was something lingu lar in the manner of the gentleman, who accompanied her— thero was anxiety de picted in his countenance, which though not altogether of prepossessing was ccr tainly not destitute of manly beauty nnd his manner proved that his mind was sdhiewhat agitate, although he did not spi'k. He was evidently in a great hur i ryr, and after giving some money Vo the captain, he left abruptly without bestow i ing upon the lady a parting word or glanee. - The captain then apptoachvd the lady Bnd enquired what part of her baggage I sho desired nhuuld be placed in the lady’s cabin, expressing his fears that its diuicn, eions might not admit of all. “Ardent the captain of Tlris*vessel ?” ; she inquired, whilo trer largo dark eyes were fixed with stitmgo earnestness up ou his face. L “I am.” I I t*Are you wnwW/'’ ‘‘Ne-i-I regret ts eay that I am not.” t ‘That l* rather a close question,” he replied, no longer able to supjtrcgn laugh, ‘'ll may not be my own fault, however ; which of these trunks shall FpUee in the ttib’n, ruadgui ?” nny apples- on board, cap tain r ‘Toriedf ones, only, madam.” “I told him so! I knew there wostbl be no apples”—and” sho began to tako down and unbraid her long black bair,al .lowing it to fall looseupon her shoulders, without taking farther notice of the ns '.uuislicJ cap 1 aiu, or bis twico reitevu'ed question. ‘ There was an expression of mingled anxiety and oompiission, in tho hcnevolont c mntcnance of tho captain, as he left the room, and strange as it may appear, I silt no desiro lo eomnicneo a conversation with one whose first appearance I had hail ed with joy. That sho was insane, was. my first impression, when I beheld the wandering glance ot her wild blight eye, and every word and gesture only served to confirm uiy belief. Fho hud unbound her liuif, unhooked her dress, doffed her IfWNshtef t 1 ehovs, and seated hem If in n very cemfurtablo attitude by the glow- log stive, boforo she deigned to bestow a ‘ glance upon my humble self, who had been quits busy in both mental and opti cal occupation, while these duties of the toilet were being performed. Suddenly *bo turned her head, and a< if perceiving me fur tho first time, said in a melting voice. -“A lovely day, Miss. Are you from Buffalo?” ‘ • “I am from II—,” T replied. “Oh! then you dorj’t know George 1 - Aro you married ?” “I am not.” “All i —why not ?” and her wild oye-i peered into my-own, with an expression 1 can never forget. The appearance of, thoslesraid at that monier.t attracted her | attention from uic. “Arc you ttoward of, •this vessel?” Jthe abruptly inquired of that ebony functionary. “Yes, ma'am, I •WT'et'ctfard here," — ‘“Are you married?” “Yih ! yah I—guess not, missy. 110 mco clear ob dot shoal,anyhowjynh l yali!'’ —and the happy Romeo made his exit with a fair show of ivory, while his w hite eyes glittered with merriment. *. Observing that her dress had been snd ly burned by ter) close contact with the - stove, and took the liberty of directing her attention to the accident, enpposing her to he yet ignorant of it. ‘ “Oil 1 1 know it”—she said, “I have a 1 drc‘s’ making at Buffalo—nry ivi'hlinij 1 ilrrsn, which l shall call for when wc nr 1 I rive at tlint place.” t ‘•Have yon friends residing at Buffalo;” I I inquired, endeavoring to draw her into j I conversation, ‘ bFriends ?—friends?—l have got no j friend*;” and sho relapsed Into a state of I moody silence from which no effort on my part, could arouse her. I hud now mis ptfi opportunity to scrutinize h r counte nance, which I could not do, while .those strange, wild otbs were roving;—but she now seemed unconscious of my presence, and sat with her small w hite hands folded over her black dress, and her large mourn ful eyes fixed upon the floor. A more melancholy countenance, l ne ver remember to liuvo beheld. Deep j lines, which time could not have formed, J were clearly traced upon her broad white ; brow, and dorp sorrow seemed to be ini-j pres-od upon her pale, delicately curved lip*- Her nge, I could not determine, e cu in niy own ndud; ’ it might have l> cn twenty-three—twenty five or thirty. hut I felt assured that something more ruthless than the hnml of time, lmd.been •* hugy with that tinder frame, mid under its iufluciicc tin iniud hud bccouio a wreck. Tht sko was iutunc, remained beyond a doubt, and why, #r by lrhonfi, the unfortunate creature could have bewfi , thus abandoned to tho mercy of anpity ing strangers—being, as sho evidently was, incapable of designating her place of residence or destination-^Horded me ■ subject of paiafol thought. ‘, , She declined supper, and soon retired, drawing tho curtains closely ironed her, though ft was Inte ere she slept, a* I dis o ivered by tho deep sighs, that occasion ally proceeded from tho berth which she occupied. The night was wild and and if fvnr found a place in my breast, it was nut caused liy the presence of the lu natic, as the captain unhesitatingly styled her. when questioning me with regard to uiy courage, in accepting licr as a compa nion Jor the nig lit. Sho wSSTfiry *ca-siek, ai well as snjself,—and under the existing circumstimceart— wo could yi a measure, sympathise with each other. iVilfctfke rihingjtun the winds erased, nnd a djtta ealumioon followed the storm, nnd a grantor part of tho day tho vessel lay like a dead thing upon the calm sea. My companion was still in lior berth, when tho captain appeared with a plate of oranges, politely remarking, that they would bo grateful after onr tedious night. Upon i ff ring the same to-uTy companion, she refused to tako any. “ I do not wUh any—thank you.—lie did not intend thorn for me?” “ Indeed—you wrong the polite Cutain, it was certainly bis wish that you should sliuro them.” “Ho did not speak my name—ho thought not of me.” “ How C"uM he knqw your name, — dear lady—even I am. yet ignorant of it. ■ Tell me your name, if you please, nnd l ■ will tell you mine.” “My name?— -h /* nnuio is Gcorgo*— ! TYlirre are yon going?” “To Norfolk,” l replied. “ What for?—- til be married?” “ No. To visit sick brother.” “Air! brother—l too, had a bro ther— ’’ .> “At what part of Norfolk “do ytmr fticud* I'csiJe?” I ventiivod to inquire.—• “ Friends !—Norfolk ?'* . “ Yes, where are yM going ?” “Going?—Oh, now I understand -reside in Kim sircct —right round tie the corner .” “Hut where nrayou going?— to wlmt part of Norfolk?” “ Right round the corner—right round : the corner;” and she declined all farther ! conversation, —r.nd she nppeured annoyed when l off'oroil to read to her. It. was iu tho afternoon of the follow ing day tout tlio captain appeared, with an iiivßa+iofl—for us to walk upon deck, and she inquired if wo were “yet in view of Utica.” “ Norfolk, you mean, madam.” “No, 1 mean Utica, lam to stop there.” The captain made no further reply, but pointed to Norfolk, which was then dis - lined” • ”V 1 felt truly sail at the thought or part ing with my singular companion,—and would willingly have neeompanied tho dasalnto one tirlho place of her destina tion—if indeed sueh a place existed in her own mind, but tho captain informed mo that the small boat was at my service, and that lie was rendy to accompany me to ihe “ Bwnti’* which plied between Nor folk nnd tho adjacent village, to which 1 wished to go. “Every ono is miudftil of you,” mur mured the poor girl, a* l hade lure fare well, “but no person lias offered to t ike * -Jl” me home. Hut I can find it—'tin right ißiinti the corner,"— and with sad ‘smile she pressed my hand, nnd politely invited mo to cull on her should I chance to coins that way. ■. > Whether the flirsakon one found a wel come, “around .tier earner,” or still wan ders, a helpless stranger iu a strange cit/, is still unknown 4* itng; hut if the person ; who placed hir on hoard tho “ Empire, y | i.hunld jieruso -this hurried ; sketch, he, at least, can tcStity to its , truth, aud pcre'uneo explain tho -mys i tery CiT"‘ Kulhor, did you. ever have nnoth i or wife besides mother f ” ‘No, my hoy, vvliat possessed y oft hr ask such a i|iic*tiou ?•” ‘ Because I saw in the family Bible ; whom you married Anno Domini in 1835, and that isn't mother, for her name was Sally Smith. (Kxit toy with a sugar •plum ) \ ’! KN Dd|,AR3 A YEAR \ Invarui* !in AqrANGB- AN IVWDSSr aSbi .lUTUt! Ob the night of thß-hattlo of BMMys wine, I cm sent with * fton General Green to Oho Coant PililM) a noble Pt’hmder* Who todk a proale*nt part in our freedom; Ho WM in * noat farm house near tho \ upper ford*. As our knsinoM was finished, tho Count asked me to take some refresh ments, and at tha some time ha oaHad out, “ Mary, my less—Mary 1” In an instant a rosy checked girl en tered, her faee beaming with joy, it would seem, at the mry sound oUjglas ki’s voice. ™ “ Did you e*D we, Count ?*’ sho said viiiy timidly. llow often hare T told you, little love,” ho said, bending his tall form to kiss her cheek, not to eall me County cull me your dear PulaAi, —thia is * m public my little favorite. We have no Counts, you know. “But you sre a Count air, whea at home, and they #*y you eamo * long way over tho ocean to fight for us.*’ ‘• Yos, yes, Mary very true; T did oome a long way, but ona reason why, wtu I had to eamo in i measure. Now, you . cm get far this gentleman and tnysolf * little rcfrefihtuont? die ho* * long way to ride to night.” ‘• Certainly, sir,” and sho Wont ou‘. of the room like a fairy. “ A Ono pleasant little girl,” said Pu laski. “ Would that I had Die wealth I o. co lmd, I would givo her a portion that would send half tho ye.jths hereabouts after hor sweet flee. The girl soon ret umod with part of a Ono boiled ham, ‘suite delicious (Yeah rye bread and butfer, pieties, and a lew tittle etceteras tha*, J relished exceedingly. After re freshing myself to my satisfac tion, I took my departure, and rodo speed ib; to the main camp. Op the morning oftho 11th of Septem ber 1777, the British army ndvanoed in f'all force to OhudJ's ford, for tho purposo of crossing Hrundywfnc Creek, and bring ing on an action with Washington. .Tho Hessian General Knyphauson with n large force advauoing up the side of the crook and uniting with Lord Cornwall)*, who commanded the loft wing of the army crossed at the upper fork* of the river and ereek. It was late in the after noon when tho reality of the fight com menced, and a* the action niged frou\ right to left, Green’s division, to which I brjught into tho midst of the conflict, commanded by Washington iu person. It so happened that during the ragiug of tho conflict, in carrying orders, I passed immediately in tho direction of Pulaski's quartors that I had visited thq night before. Situated os the house iras in tho midst of tho buttle, curiosity in duced me to rido up. Suddenly n sheet of fluuic burst forth. The house was on • fire! Near ihc door stop lay tho L >dy of Mary, her head cut open by a sabre, and her brain* outing out from the toiriblo wound ! I had not been there moro than half a minute wheu Pulaski, at tho head, of a troop of cavalry, galloped rapidly to. the house. Never shall I forget the ex-, prersion of his fnoe, ns he shouted like a. demon on seeing the inanimate form,—> u AVho done this ?” A little boy, that I had not before no ticed, who was laying amid the grass, his leg dreadfully ninuglud, suid, “(hero they go.” lie pointed to a company of Hos. sinna, or Anspaeh grenadiers, then aotua distance off. Itiglit wheel, men—-obnrgo. And they did charge! Ido not think one man of that Ilessinn corps ever left the field. The last I suw of Pulaski on the battle ground of lirunjy wine, he was bearing in his uruis tho lifeless (oriu of poor Mary. BaSt* He who, in prosperity, gives to every one without discretion, will, in ad versity, find every one without gratitude, staT Unlimited leisure is apt to induce a listless indolence, which cherishes pro crastination sod subdues our mental vigor. 7 ‘-aar Remember, your bottle oompso mim wilhnot boar you company at youx death, nor lighten your *ant**eo at th,. day of judgment. u •W Do WHj hut-*- , ... Nevtr huh iu - -o not boast of it. iw . praise ,it Is not * th th ° Jb. 23 1