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ILSSTOHiiS ferso^' [Another neiv contributor we welcome into the noble ranks of the Crusader to-day, in the gifted “Clara,” of Nashville, Tenn, whose beautiful volume we noticed in a late issue. She will twine new laurels for the brow of our goodly champion of Southern literature and independence:] Tlie Dead Love, infels. Nor was , He granted it willingly—glad that she show- ;loomy abode for | cd any sign of interest in anything around and late, it was her; and Ida retired.that night with the de- e her life one of termination to rid herself of her annoyers, by a scheme which she had formed. J begun to merge This was to erect a nunnery upon the island, almost sadly, to which she might retreat whenever she chose, 8 would now be- until she should hear from Roland. The sa- iss ; but he laid cred walls of a convent would at least protect ness, and assem- her her persecutors, ring youth—the The illy German bar- *®d her plan, was fluent in his praises of her noble ancestors, undertaking; and her father, thinking it The nuns of Saint Agnes had human hearts, and a human heart still beat in the noble breast of the good Bishop of Colonge. She, so nearly the Bride of Heaven, was the patro ness of their order. Would they break the heart of her who had consecrated so much of the holy life she had always led to the great work of their religion? Every thing hetman the dark brown locks, Jamie, the shrinking, delicate boy, Charley and Harry, the brave and noble ones, bade their parents good-night and went to bed. The baby was laid in the cradle, and the parents and the two eldest born, Horace and Kate, sat down to their books, interrupting each other only by occa sionally remarking upon the subjects. “ Do you hear a strange noise, father ? ” ’asked tfre*eon, in whose'eyes Alice b&Kt ber^ gazing with a’strange tenderness for the last half hour, thinking how soon he was to leave her. - “Ido; it is like water. There will be a freshet to-night, and it is no wonder if our cellar overflows.” ^flTfc'&ither rose and went to the door with a lamp; these was water everywhere. Water pouring fn m th&..clouds, water in the yard, and water on the st^jjs of the house; and soon a little flat canoe was pitsJled up to them, and from it towarti. Mr. Stone. When the hair is cut to a convenient length on • the neck we have the freedom of the Lair, its i health, the comfort of the wearer, its down ward flowing nature, which poets so much ad mire, and which is the natural condition of the hair, and we have the natural shape of the head, always beautiful; the undergrowth of Wr behind, at the junction of the head aud i 2£T"A11 lctiww intended for Mrs. Vrexch McMii.ru-i i.f inco : k This * Kardmc first cat evenly around on the agolt, forui9 a m<ie* when a boy, nnt beautiful eilken border, and the color ut y hair in contrast with thawhiteness of the neck JtepM tme nf the moet brilliant, beautiful, and :«**d*c contracts in the world. Then we have Of the length <>f the hair.— »B*,««6t£Uet aU these points of beauty with the entirelaefc of the same in dune-up hair, and then let any or.e decide which style i3 the moet beautiful. And how grandly flowing hair for women corresponds with, and how sym bolical of her own geutle, flowing nature !— N«»w, Mr. Godov, I submit the points I have made in favor of the convenience, comfort, and beauty of short hair for woman—which are but a few things that can be said in its ia- vor—whether the Ides sings that would flow from it would not justify con.-iderabie effort on our part to change public sentiment :a its favor? I have every reason to believe, from thosv whom I have talked with, that there are thousands in our land who would ad >pt short hair at once were they not over awed by ad verse public opinion. But they think, like thousands of others, that they might almost * as well he out of the world as out of the fash ion.’ Mr. Godey, 1 know you have the inter est and welfare of woman-kind At heart, and now will you aid me a little with your advice, counsel, and inductions in my effort* to change public sentiment in favor of the bene fits, comforts, and ble-eings that short hair would give to woman-kind pveiywhere?— Cnsbla Macbref* awr\trnm ;, ui o«4, I’ve'buried it deep; where mortal 1 eye Cau never it« grave behold ; Jn the innermost depths of n broken heaii * Now m »rLle-like and cold. stu v ’*li to the pulpit; and his ardent piety was gc of his suitableness for i profession to?wh^c^^^^ tunc P re - sented nw,vtry great objection, disqualify him fur active life. The minister's visit was repeated and re newed. Mary Dale playfully reminded her of what she had said, and Alice had blushed and replie 1 that it was certainly a great pity that he should be thus. Mary felt sure that her friend had already forgiven the deformity that existed. And ?o she i.ad. She looked with the eye* of her spirit, tipi u one who seemed all the more hallowed for his affliction. The transition from pity to love was as easy in Alice Fleming’s day as it was in Shuks- peare’s ; nr d when the young minister with ft tou hiug allusion to his s ate, asked her if .-he could love ft cripple wril enough to marry him, there were tears in her eyes a- joy ful as they were tender and loving. Circumstances arose which resulted in ft call to a distant parish. Perhaps it was best so; for if a clergyman i» truly /aid to bo no successful prophet in his native place, how’ much more must the clergyman’s wife desire to pass from the often envious and ill-natured remarks to which her position subjects her, and to which a person of delicacy must most sensitively shrink from ? AUnn.t*: the sundown is purple in hue, And the Ay and the mountain have BMt to I The eanshtee i« biding, the dark coating ee, Make haute i it wiU find you, mjrMfcm*i For ‘ Birdie ’ and “Brave* be*MfSSgg And yon nnrt do Hbe them,mh0T*fm<H FUn&dotru alt your pteytMoga, m4 Jgrtifct ; +or never again can tlie voice of one I’ve adored make its pulses thrill; Like a beautiful Ice-berg ’Death the c u ’Tvvill shine, yet be frozen still. And calmly and lightly I’ll pass along, " s -- And play in life’s pageant my part, And none shall dream the gay child of Hath n dead fore in her heart. XaeKciUe, Tnn. So the lofty and imposing structure rose in the vary heart < f th«* beautiful Rhino, bearing, on its summit, the consecrated Cross. The beauty and novelty of its situation attracted the eye of every traveler on the banks of the river—of every voyager upon its bosom ; and soon th<* content was filled with the fl iwer of German nobility It was called the Convent of »Saint Agnes. On the very ev«- cf its consecration, a man, hoary with prematur* ago, and bent, from long and weary pilgrimage, f «ble and foot-sore, arrived at the ca.-tle of Drachenfels. To ques tions respecting hi- sad and worn out appear ance, lie stated that he had just come, after weary year?, from the land of the crusaders. One of the household eagerly questioned him if he had *o*en aught of the Chevalier Ro- a figure spranj •* My dear sir, you seem to be fts much sur rounded by water as Noah-was. I came to of fer my house to you and yours, if you fed in convenience or anticipate any danger here.” “ Do you—does any one expect that then* i; any danger in remaining? ” “ Wc have [Nothing can be more pleasant and ins ing of a summer morning than to read s poem as this :] -A. Morning Hide* I With huntin'!; sorely I’ve *hov Your labors ft•rcule&o—now you are free, M dcelhUU! a cuslila machree! Stay! her on the carpet your treasures throw <b>\ For the bath is all ready, tbo nice snowy gown Unfolded before ns, (there now! what a plunge!) As yon see “Mammy” waiting with towels and spi ll* ! ba! what a splashing! now Frolic we’re thin See the crystal waves bubble and glitter an . hine As I dash them about you with riotous glee, <lfav6umeeu ueelhhh ! ft cmhla Macl.rce! Sleep’ bonnie eyes that are stainless ant! clear, peace little heart to the angels so dear: Sinking—sofr-.-inbing to Italmy repose, An I he lies on my heart like the dew on the Partly in h'-ptfulness, partly in fears While T bead overturn drop ttio warm tears, - Unshed'? my spirit—low praying for thee. Manim esthee hir !$ a cnshln machret! Like » his d.iy to the rivulets flow Dovi n the g tvn valley where lilly-bads blow. Gleaming in Miushine, or hiding from view, Sporting in blossoms that .-lumber in (lew ; Then when the night comes with shadows so Ir u An»l S e cr. .-p* to my bosom and nestles him donn, A bee in thetalip-cnp. drowsing in be— Mania: asth.ee hir! a rnshla n.nchifp ! God keep thy day bright, blithe, bonnie bairn ! Free from the sbadaw that falls Iron tlie cairn. Free from the griefclonds that darken in wrath. Free. U\ ca the sin-snares that tar.g'.e our path ! Tli:n when onr night comes we'll fear not its fn.wi To the rest everlasting we'll cnlm’y go down. And the white gales of Heaven will open for AnJ mavi.nrneen deelish, a cnshla machree! Th. island still remains in iu emerald beau ty. The Caetle of Dracheafel« and the Tower o- Rolan Iseek still catch the eye of the trav- e.er as s< me of the most romantic attractions of That region ; and not a peasant whom he meets, th:if will not feel honored to be ques tioned of the beautiful legend that has surviv ed the long lapse of years since the memora ble period of the Crusades. fC'-n the water higher hero. But rill be un- s a larger i we will get you away safely, reaching the rooms, for the em bankment i.- perfect.” Another boat came along, and repeated by another individual. “Friends, I thank you,” said of Mr. Stone: “Our little <>nei and if their mother does not obj* here, l think we will njt disturl will trust God this night at least, And bidding them good-night, he went back to the evening prayers. Alice then took up the sleeping baby, and carried it up the stairs. A deeper rush of water in her ear made her turn aside to her son’s room, of which the door was open, lay her baby on his bed and run to the winder, which she opened. Just then her husband was opening another win- ayjjr.od eteed. and it Shak..- from tliy hoofs the heated dus Bathe them iu dewy spray, •Scant the air from the apple trees, SnufT at tlie waving corn, Inhale the sweets < f the elder bloom The cooling breath of this morn. Up to the hills and away good steed. Winnie, the faithful gray, I’Ubare my brow to the ru«king brt And the far sun’s tarliest ray, A doffing ride ou a morn like this, Banishes earthly ills, And a halo of softened sunny beams, The heart of the weary fills. Aye, rest thee now, while 1 ga/.e nro 'Tia & scene for an attist’s hand. The distant hills, the towering trees, The sloping, flowery laud, The swaying corn, the ripened grain And yonder cabin lo. e, Its low roof stained by many storms. Its chimney of roughest stone. Now, on good steed where the idugin Crosses the flowery glade ; «>n to the “aisles of the forest clime’’ To the realms o r eternal shade, Beneath thy feet, no soft gn en gras- Spioadeth a carpet down ; For the heat of the sun may not pa .- To enliven tlio earth so brown. (The foliowing lines are from the pen of the late Hon. Abel 1\ Upshur, Srcrctary of State, who was killed 2#ih February, 1844, by the bursting of a cannon on board the C. S. steam frigate, the Powkattan. They have been kind ly communicated by h lady of Virginia, and have never before, we believe, appeared in same was ety Its import brought her fainting—almost dyiug, to the floor. He had known him well, iiad seen him winning laurels in the thickest of the fight in a battle with the Sarac**na ; had beheld him wounded and had heard «#f his bu- riut beneath the walls oi Jaffa, while he him self lay wounded in his tent, and unable to witness the last ceremonies. Almost broken-hearted, Ida revived to an nounce her intention of retiring forever to her nunnery to pray for the repose of her lover’s soul. The morning came when the maid of Dra chenfels was to become the Bride of Heaven. She came forth from the castle robed in all the magnificence of her wealth and station, spark ling with diamonds, and crowned with the most beautiful and rarest oruament of all, the unequalled hair which had been her father’s pride. Kneeling upon the floor, after .-he had lain It Wi re vain to tell the various sun.-hines and shadows that smiled or gloomed over the mini.-tcr’s family. The “sunDy sides” and “shady sides,” the “Pastor's side” and the ‘•People’s side,” have sufficiently told this.— It is enough to say that as years went on, eight olive branches clustered around the table of Leonard Stone. Every one brought a fresh blessing. No bird wft3 ever blither than Alice. Hc-rlullabies were all cheerful ones; so were the storu-s which chained the children’s atten tion, and which made the mother’s face look almost glorified in its expression of holy sweet ness, a* she talked to them of the shining throng who “wave their palms and wear their crowns” in the “world beyond the flood.” No^ a word cf John Rogers cr the martyrs to ead- tJan their glad faces—but peace and joy> and 'ovc— the infant Christ smd the dear John. There were times when the scanty salary of a couniry liiirii.'ier seemed all too little tofup- pOTl bis family ; but Alice was fertile in expe dients, anu the garments of the elder re-ap peared wonderfully years after they were out grown and worn threadbare, upon the persons of the younger. Leonard came home from the post-office one day with a letter in bis hand, and a troubled look upon his face ; and it was not long before Alice was made aware of the contents of the missive. It was from a parish in the West, offering him a settlement and advantageous ririu on tl._ of everlasting rock. Proud pyramid! thou standee:, and thy head Far, Far al ove the cloud*, looks up to Heaven Thou art above the lightning, and the peal Which shake* the nether earth with awe and . Bursts at at thy feet, innocuous. Thou wast When eirth's foundations first were laid; And thou bhatt be till earth shall fade away, Still in primeval grandeur unitnnaited. Her-?, had boat quickest at the voice of one who, had as yet addressed her by no words of love. The only claim which Ronald Bergen had made upon her attention had been the silent admiration of his expressive eyes. Perhaps from that very reason, or partly from her own perception of his superior merit, and partly that she was not repelled by any assumption ol favor, ehe was compelled to turn away from all others, and muse secretly upon him Tlie deepest, most thrilling has ever been written can never surpass some of the re al incidents of life. We tax ourselves with weaknc:>s and absurdity, when we weep at the high wrought and touching relations ot but they do not come up to romance •My child : tMy sweet darling! thou pnl*« **f my h My sr-ul h within yon. Tlie Martyr’s 'Wife. “Long Grabs,” writes to the Lanche.-ter IS. C.) Ledger. We called to see Mrs. Jackson, the widow of the martyr and hero who killed Col. Ellsworth of the Zouave Regiment, for entering his house tSTJfitf Wifj nulling -d?jrs tw> fnftJrr ate Flag which proudly floated from its dome. She now resides at Fairfax Court House. Out- visit was received in the spirit which dictated it. She v. ry kindly and cordially offered us But a imtfs that clin,"*? in tlie deepest dell ; Or climbs o’er the lii^hot hill. Is here to teach that in the shadowy lift. Are gleamiugs of beauty still, In the darkest paths where your feet may Are lesions the heart may read. There's a wealth of knowledge iu nature’s ^^Wiuk ywn.>t so my steed, iv&u dash thee on over rocky'paths, K An.' tuning to my cheek its Mon’u, H'hir calls to ini lid those rare old time* When tha earth knew naught of gl<K>m. M lien a maiden fair as the angels are, And loved as nono e' Bode by my side over »Vith her tresses fl« - foTJTt Hair for Lndie!*. Intho.se “wartimes’* it lias become quite fashionable for our pretty belles to have their hair cut short—“shingled” i. j , we believe, the technical, cr barbarous term. To our taste I the fash;in ?• evcce/Iingly becoming to most and w* only wonder tlm* onr lady friends did not find thi.i out long ago. We confess lo a weakness for short hair for ladies —if looks piquant, independent, untia;chijicd, and sometimes even saucy—to which, however, we don’t object in the slightest degree. We’ve endeavored to dive down a little into the phi losophy of iLis subject which we have found “ lying about loose,” and have inquired of our own individual self, cn divers and sundry oc- is to the i hy our young ladies are poor Maggie Titllirer's style of hair- jusTi" I 1 ! !* cnt crisj^. Why are the novel writer the fiery trials and overwhelming sorrows that belong to the still more tragic r al. The little country village of Wheatcllfe was j thrown into dismay by the death of the rever-/ cd ps-tor of the ouly church. He had been settled fi>r life, after the good old fashion that would not permit a clergyman to be turned out to die, after baptizing children, marrying grown people, and burying the dead, besides preaching to the living three times a week, until "trength, and youth, and health gave way. And the se’eclion of a new pastor was no thing, that could be arranged with the quick, angry gwrh deepening irresis tibly around them. Infant eyes w^re closed in^slnmber that night that never yaked again, until they beheld the face of their Father iu" Heaven. A mother floated out on the dark tide until in her first waking, she^might only have repeated as her fir-t words In hear en: “ Hero am I, Lord, and fhe little ones Thou It was the hush of morning over Drachen fels—the morning iu which the Lady Ida had thus gone forth. The first rays of the morn ing sun had kissed the golden cross upon the convent of Saint Agnes, and fhe peaceful in land lay like an emerald upon the bosom of the Rhine. A traveler, in martial costume, was leading his worn and weary -teed to the edge of the river. The golden cross of Saint Agnes caught his eye: and a murmur of surprise burst from his lips. The sight brought up old memories of long ago, that had hovered for years around that green isle of the Rhine. He remember ed how often, when he lay wounded and, ap parently, a: the very point of death, that green spot would come to bis remembrance like an oasis in the desert, and that when borne away by his comrades in a swoon that resembled death, hi? first waking thought wa« of Xennenworth. What could be the meaning of the noble edifice rising upon that spot so con<eciafed to the memory of a fret and *»nly love ? A peasant, goiug forth to his daily work, paused to look at the stranger, and to reply to the rapid questioning which he gave. lie told him why it was that the beautiful daugh ter of Baron Ettenheim. after all hope of her lover's return had ceased, had erected the nun nery up.»n the island yonder, and then passed to a relation of the strange event that wa9 perhaps even now taking place, and which would draw tears from many eyes a* it would praises from many hearts. “She is so good—so much beloved,’ added the peasant. “She is like an angel, and she will soon be cne in heaven.” ) Unconscious who was his listener, he went ring free. Then tlie music of laugh soft and As the purl of the sti camlet liei Bang on the air, and its echoes no Are ringing upon my ear, ’Twfcrt a cheat of memory tho’ 1 ns For the vision fair lias gone, Mjr steed is walking wearily And I’m on the hills alone, Culltdka. Tenn. light nor triflinj to the chase on the battle field. To read the lines in which she almost fancied there was a half hidden reference to herself—to hear the music of his voice as lie chanted the rhymes of older poets, and marie the deeper and inten ser force which lie gave to their thrilling words, were Ida’s sweetest. cnjoytnetvf« : enjoyments which it became hard to disguise, but which her maidenly modesty would not suffer her to betray in words. What of that? The lips are poor interpre ters compared with the eyes : and there were stolen glances in which Roland read the lan guage of the heart. And iu so reading, he read also that he might no! be too severely re pulsed if lie dared talk of love to Ida Ettcn heiru. lie gathered from the starting tears that had | borne witness to the effect of his song, and tho intense power and charm of his music, and, in an hour of twilight stillness, in the re pose of a forest scene, lie spoke words such as her heart had long been yearning to hoar from the. lips of Roland Bergen. The first joy of her confession blinded her to the almost certain refusal of her father, which the very gifis she loved in Roland would be so likely to draw from him. She knew how ar dently he had desired her to wed some one of whose deeds of courage and prowess lie could boast, and how lightly he esteemed the charms of poetic imagery or the cultivation of music al taste. Tremblingly she confided her fears to Ro land, as she laid her head upon his shoulder in the fiist new rapture of knowing herself beloved ; and her fear communicated itself to him. Like an honorable lover, however he sought the Baron in order to know his fate. The lat ter answered him kindly aud condescendiuglv, but, in words that admitted of no appeal, that no man should ever be the husband of Ida Et- tenheini, whose knightly valor could not be proved. Hard words for one who had been all his life long wedded to the song and the lute ; but as no sacrifice was too great for him to make f»r Ida. he resolved to prove himself strong; and the next week saw hitn preparing for the terrible contests in l'alestiue. The partiug was on the beautiful island ou which the crags of Drachenfelg looked down ; in a sunny spot whose verdure seemed green est and loveliest, and where the leaves were as thick as in the forests of Vallambrosa.— Thenceforth that spot wasjconsccrated in the maiden’ and the connection dis.-olved at any niomenr The people came to it with prayers, id very likely with tears, casion 4 the next. a solemn thing to decide upon the quality of his spirit who should break to them the bread of life. Nor Wft9 their careful deliberation profitless. It was right that they should choose thus tremb lingly, lest the church and their holy religion be disgraced. The congregation of Wheatcliffe church had assembled on a pleasant March Sabbath. The frozen stream had broken up under the warm sunshine, and everywhere, from the ragged edges of the snow peeped up the sweet arbu tus, trailing its fragrant blossoms upon the ground, and re-appearing in church, a sweet smelling nosegay in the hand? of all the children and not a few of the grown peo ple. Two young girls, bright, rosy and fresh as the arbutus itself, lingered longer than the others, to enjoy the pleasant air aud glowing sunshine; but at Ia«t, even they were shelter ed within the tall, square pews that seemed intended to cage them into devotion. Occa sionally some unlucky boy would meddle with the carving of the pews so nearly resembling his grandmother’s wheel bobbin ; and twi-ting it half round, would elicit a sharp squeakiimr sound that would make the queue on the d**a con’s head turn rapidly from side to side in trying to find out the offender. He was easily known by his mortified air and red face, even if all the female inmates of the pew were not shaking their heads at him in dismay at the their meditation. tMMl then, too, a piece of orange peel or * hit of flag-root went the rounds of the family, or was .passed from pew to pew, or Stto whispered saws of the week wan nis- had sat around the evening meal together! Nor was it he, the light, yet strong aud brave youth who had swam hours in the river which »nt forth its floods through the crevasse ibankment had disappeared nor the maiden The two sat up till after midnight. It was a great struggle with both. On one side was the society, every member of whom loved him and was loved in return. On the other, a com petency end a future to whiclr he could look for his children. There were prayers, and thanksgivings, and tears; and it ended by a farewell which wrung Leonards’ heart with angui-b, and which loft hi? people weeping and sad. Hard a? it wa?, he felt that it was his duty to do the best he could for his children, and his prospects at the West -eemed to op< n fair and bright. They arrived without accident, received every neighborly kindness from the people, and were soon settled in comfort. Before leaving New England, a friend hod tried to beg one of the pretty, in'cresting children, choosing a fine little girl of nine or ten. “I connof spare /«r,” said her father, “she looks so much like her mother.” “Well, the hoy that comes next.” “No, James looks like me.” “Little Eiloy !” “Well, I would, only -she resembles Mn- The Nun of Saint Agnes now from which thi —not lie was tlie saved one who floated out in his arms ; nor the mother, strong in a love which would fain have gath ered the flock beneath its wings. No, of all those ten, no one was saved but th * feeble, crippled husband aud father. Helpless as he was, unable, it would seem, to protect himself a moment from drowning, he had battled with the water, doubtless with the hope of rescuing the others, had clasped the trunk of a small tree or shrub which had withstood tlie flood, The Cnstltd Crag Of Drachcnfrli The wildest and most picutureeque of the long line of hills rising in eternal grandeur above the lovely waters of the Rhine, is that of Drachenfels. Many a haughty baron has in habited the lofty castle, of which a portion of the ruin3 still remains; the greater part, how ever, having crumbled away, and fallen, per haps, into the bed of the river, over which it projected in fearful abruptness. Far as tlie shadow of tlie lofty m uintaiu ex tends, it doe? not quite reach the pretty island of Nonncnworth. Thi? island lies out in the broad, glorions sunshine, unshadowed and se rene as a thought of Paradise ; greeu and beau tiful with foliage the rarest and most precious that sheds its fragrant leaves beneath the sky of Germany. And as it lies now to the eye of the passing traveler of our own times, and ages ago, to the eyes beautiful daughter ot Baron whoso joyous life was pas.-i sioa in the gray tower of her turret window, the love distinctly seen ; and, on bi boat would gianco over tin Among the distinguished men who fell victims during the war of the American Revolution,was Col Isaac Hayne, of South Carolina; a man who by his amiability of character and high senti- <-at;-s£, had secured their glos.-y locks—soft fetters to bind tberr &t0tf-idcals during their absence ? We shouldn't wonder if many a shining curl, and silken tre>s had been put to such dear service. In the Span>'» nrs. ve arc told, the females of a smui: g.*.rison hound their hair under tho chin, to appear like a beard, and mustering them selves upon ti e ramparts, compelled the ene my to sun on er. Our voung l&diea, in a case like this, wil; certainly be obliged to resort to the legitimate moustache maker, i. e., burnt cork Bat, after all, Abare ia a philosophy iu tbj^,new faahitipjjHritek is more, perhaps, than can 1*7 of flsoet faehions. Our ladies mean to intimate b/TUfbaCMiere is anggesaity now that they shoal* MdM ©are jffpBMhus, and they are d'.-termiM# to > hoig, flexible tresses convey, pertopt uocMMiMal;, the id** of dei.Fh ’eaoe. Short caxl^ on tbe ooatruy, give on imprettion of (troBgtJi, »tIf-nliuo*s and hi//. Is it not to? Bat wo oomao«DC«4 these few liaea ” only for the parpoaa of ktn troduciug » latter which Male vary aanaibla feminine !uu written to Oodej, of Laty'aBadl notoriety, u- n Ihe subject of abort hair for ladie- Bei g one of these eccentric Individ- ments of honor and uprig? the good will and affection of all who knew him. He had a wife and "six small childen, the olde?t a boy thirteen years of age. His wife, to whom be wa* tenderly attached, fell a victim to disease: an event hastened not improbably by the inconvenicnv es and sufferings incident to a state of war, in which the whole family largely paticipated. Col Hayne himself was taken prisoner by the British forces, and jn a short time was executed on the gallowi, under circinstances calculated to excite the deepest eommisseration. A great number of persons, both English and American, interce ded for his life. The ladies of Charleston signed a petition in his behalf: his motherless ment a friendly voice which he did not Lear, and friendly arms which he could not feel, were near him. He was bi ought out ol that overwhelming flood alive. Never, perhaps, since the day on whica the good pastor, Elliott, who, with his eight chil dren were wrecked ou Norman’s Woe, on the coast of New Enalund, nearly two centuries ago, had there been a parallel calamity. The “alone! ” which fell from his lips mighty W4^1i have,been deemed the saddest of all wdffls. None uttered since that fearful night, could so fully eipress the seuse of that debolojjfoesSl; whirh-must, »)1 at cnee, have settled upo& hi* • heart and brain. There was the same stiffing sense of misery, ouly half comprehended, for hours; yet the morning light found him with others, looking eagerly for the earthly caskets in which the spirits of his beloved had been enshrined. They were all found—the children in each other’s uruis as they had slept, the glad, bright, cheerful mother, who had been like a gleam of sunshine—nuy, like a whole flood of sunshine in the house—and the baby with her little iiu- gers still tightened over tier brother’s watch, which had stopped just at the hour in which the mother had lain her down to open the win dow, and time, to her, was lost in eternity. To such a sorrow, God’s own hand can up- ply the healing. Men may sympathize and condole but they can never touch the hidden springs of grief in a heart so bereaved. Time, the consoler, the healer of wounds aud drier of tears, may leave him serene and patient ; and meantime, he will ever feel the fluttering ol' those white wings above aud around him, and voices whispering that only a few short years may pans, and ho will meet them together 1 —Until thfy be ^-^^janon Him who “ Bindeth wounds and healct? hearts.” ' And bo through the whole eight he made laughing but real objections, and carried off his little flock entire, nnt a head missing. Alice wrote to her New England friends gai ly nnd hopefully. They liked the people, she aid, and what was of more consequence, the il gaiety never ihe wrote to a aged to preach sparkling waters ihat. intervened, an 1 whole hours would flit by unnoticed in this beautiful spot. Father and child were all the world to each other. The wife, and mother had iept beneath the old chapel floor ever since Ida was an in- three, days’ growth. The gentle heart * 3C<1 * high the first development of principle, was not permitted to T r--£ t ta the inu?ic of Ida’s voice : but Ba ron Ettenheim was alike father and mother to the beautiful child. From the dqy on which tho gentle Baroness had closed her eyes upon life, her husband hud rendered every possible people liked them. Her play deserted her. At one time friend, Leonard and 1 are en next Sunday, thirty miles off. llcra was the true spirit for She never damped his zeal nor drew down Jiie aspirations ; while her? was indeed • The sunny temper, bright when all is atrifo, The simple heart that mockaat worldly wile.*, light wit that plays along the calm of life And stirs its I/vngird surface into smiles.’’ In a short time the eldest sou obtained a desirable situation at the Southwest. He was to have departed begged hitn on Monday, wished it, because it. happy. “Wife” anti “ some ftcount in many a wish was hushed, and many a plan cheerfully resigned, because her feelings pointed cbewhere. And another Sabbath was to bo spent to gether. It was November, and the streams were fust tilling up with the autumnal rain?. Once more the mother sat in her own pew, with her husband in the pulpit, her boy be- :-ide her. strong and manly enough to look up on ns a protector, should aught befall the frail being who was standing there in the attitude of prayer. On the other scuts were, all the children except the baby, and she bad been who can tee no^P^WTy’wTisTextr in “ don&Wp 1 m hair.* 4 We append the letter wiih a fall, frte, and forcible endorsement : •* I know, Mr. Godey, to an absolute cer tain I y, from both reason and experience, that short hair would be a great comfort and conve nience, and a real Lbetiny to woman-kind eve rywhere. Any intelligent lady or gentlemen must admit that it is a great tax upon ns to have so much hair to be done up and arranged every day, and sometimes oftener for a com mon lifetime—amounting to many thousand times—jufet to suit a foolish fashion, and be cause our mothers and grandmothers did be fore us. Men have not submitted and will not submit to this iuconvenicnc*', yet women lutvo to. Long hair, to the sick aud afflicted women everywhere over the world, is abso lutely a burden, and to all others it U a great and useless inconvenience. And where is the • glory ’ of all * its fair length,' so much talked about, when done up iu a knot on the back of tho head ? It in nonsense to talk of its length aa iU chief element of beauty when that qual ity fai forever ooneealed from human gaze, as it ig |a the done-op style, which makes it to all intants and purposes even shorter than the men's. Where* then, Is iu beauty? Are ibaa* knot* af hair oa tbo back of our heads no vary httpdbone?—this round, knotted, im- -priUcad apaa which git*a oa * conception of anythin *fa# except th* length of * lady** hill t 1l«it f- oaerlfea the health of the heir, i«*»a**m, U# MW «*•**, the eom- twtof thff weaw, tho natural shape of the l**d, aau»U tfctofl* else, for tho take of the ar AnhtifcyWhkh. after all, we do not tf lr t§ mXffle; met even as [ meh asj* tha mtjjf abort style. Let me Suturdny, but his mother > stay and commence his journey ind he yielded. His father* too, would make Alice bo ‘mother” were terms of Leonard Stone’s family, and was w he brought down to minister to the md it was his own wants hand? that dressed and undressed, and rocked the cradle of his down Hit* powerful which he had heard tender mothers sing to thpir Infant 9. As Ida grew old enough to accompany him, he ijarely left the castle without her. Hunt ing jn the wild forest, around the Rhine, or boating on its calm surface, on long summer days—those summer days, so soft, serene aud clotvJles*—^or spurring his spirited horse along is and, perhaps, into the flood itself* Id»s£as still by his side, fearless and trusting when he was by, us if his arm could avert nil i evilTVom his child. A rare sight was it. to the simple villagers at thei* doors, when Baron Ettenheim and the Lady Ida rodo by—he so stately and grand, jiidtfthe so bright and happy looking; her sHh^^ave set as in a golden frame, with the r»bright tresses of he; radiant hair, which ? Vather would not permit her to wear other- Alian floating carelessly upon her fair darling, while he softened voice to the gentle lullaby wheo he had gone she spent a part of every day there, reading his poetry or warbling the songs he had sung, and passing hours beneath the tree where she had As the service proceeded, the interest in creased ; nor did it slacken to the close of a sermon which all were free to say hud never been surpassed in that pulpit. The services were over, and the church emptied. The two fair, young girls, us usual were companions in their walk home, and ihe conversation of course turned upon the mini.— ter. The eldest girl, Alice Fleming, remarked that it was very sad to see him bo afflicted, as it would make him a lonely man. It was so desirable that a minister should he mar ried. “ And why should not he ?” asked Mary Dale. ••Why ? Because surely no one would mer ry on* ao painfully injured. And yet, Mary, could there be a more beautiful countenance f Ho reminds m* of a picture I bar* lean of tho Moved John.” j Tho ward* vara forgotten by the speaker aa Mt as attend, bat they war* afterward r»- Onc year went slowly after auother, and each one rani; out a drearier knell to Ida’s heart. No tidings came from Roland. Where was that faithful heart whose love had waked tho echo in her own ? Time went slowly on without solving thin anxioua .mentioning, and Ida’s lip palnd and her cheek lost its flush, and hor eyes their sparkle. Yet not even this visible decay of her beauty abated the persecution she had undergone from the first period of Rona'd'e absence, from oth er knights. For her sake, strife and battles were rife among those who aspired to her hand ; blood was shed, and even human life ta ken in one instance. Blok, and weary of life, the maid of Dra- chanfala mad* oa* request of her father. It was that ha should baitew upon bar th* little Island which ah* prised ao rnnok, where she ooold retire from th* parseeatioM a* painful to hor. Aorlhrrnert IlmmyraMj South Yesterday's train to Nashville took away two welt-to-do ommlgranls, that we know of, who have for sakes tho North la make their homos in tho southern clime. On* of them ia from New I ork, where ha kas disposed of his property Eassed lbs first eighteen yean of Ida's f which eneh hour had its separata oharm, her father's enduring lov*. No cloud Lyet-dieturl>ed the pure other above bar ay. Her existence flowed on as unakad- jss th* sunny river that ran at th* feat of