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THE DIVOOtD,
[ttm * In autif ul torn ftvdn by a who,keleg
naked wh*B» her bui*s»il *»«, when he tajr coMenled
for hiving been deeply coßot rnedln a rondgb-nry, reso
lutely teat the hid hidden Mm. Thia eonfea
slon caoaed her to be carried before the governor, who
told her that nothing but confession where she had hid
den him could save her from the torture. “And will
thatdor seid she. "Tea,” replied the governor, “I
will pass my word for your safety on that condition.”—
« Then,” replied she, “ I have hidden him In my hkabt,
where you may find him." This incident Is sugges
tive of the heroic conduct of some of the Southern la
dies in the custody of the Lincoln minions.]
Stem faces were around her her bent, and eyes of venge
ful Ire, *
And fearful were the words they spake of torture, stake
and fire; ....
Yet calmly in the midst she stood, with eye'undimin d
and dear,
And though her lip and cheek ere white, she wore no
t:ign of fern.
* * Where lethjrSUor-spooeeJ” they seid —a half-form d
Btnile of scorn.
That curl’d upon her haughty Hp was..back for answer
borne I . , .
“Where is thy Unitor-spouse V’ again In flercor tone
they said, . . ...
And sternly pointed to the rack, all rusted oer with
Her heart and pulse beat firm and free—but In a criui-
O’er pal infill., and cheek and brow, rush’d up the bwn
■> ing blood I * . . ...
fche spake; but proudly rose her tone* as when in hall
The haughtiest chief that round her stood had meekly
own’d her power. ...
“ My noble lord is placed within a safe and sure re
yow te” t where, thou lady .bright, as thou wouldst
mercy ftioet! , . ,
Xor deem tby life can purchase his-hc cunnot scape
K..r inr.ny# warrior’s watchful eye Is placed o’er every
But thou mayst win his broad ..states to grace thiue
Ami life and honor for thyself—so thou his iiauuts
declare.”
she laid liar hand upon her heart; her eyes flash'd proud
And firmer grewW haughty tread—“My lord is hid
den Awe/ „
Ami if ye seek to view his form ye first must tear
Krom roundels seeret dwelling place these w alls of llv-
They quaflVl”l«nealh her lofty glanoe—tliey silent
turn’d aside.
And left her all unharm Vi amidst her loveliness and
pride.
[For tho Southern Field and Fireside.]
THE MEBDLETON
SOLDIER’S AID ASSOCIATION.
x SO. 11.
THE PAHTY.
The Treasurer reported the treasury empty —
the committee were out of work, and tho “ Mod
dlelon Guards ” needing clothing! What could
bo done? “Give a dinner," suggested Mrs.
Langston. .
• “Yes; and have allthe women in the coun
try here,’ with forty dozen children to eat up
all creation, and with meal bags, to carry away
all that’s left,” objected Miss Araminta. Clem
proposed an evening party. Miss Jennie was
opposed to it. But, at leugth, the majority de
clared in favor of the party—and Mona, Jennie, (
Clem and 1 wero appointed a special commit
tee to solid contributions. " Well, girls, be
ready, bright and early in the morning, with
pencil and note-book, armed and equipped as
the law directs,” was Clem’s parting saluta-
U< Wtiie village we met with little opposition,
as the ladies were “ willing to gtvb tho last
cent to the soldiers.” The next morning we
started on our “tower” among tho country
members—Jennie and Moua in one buggy,
wliile Clem and I followed close behind in un
other—Clem having advanced the sage idea
that “ the members won’t be half so apt to re
fuse, when so many will know it I”
The first house at which we stopped was
the residence of Mrs. Jenkins, a widow lady,,
not “fair," but “fat and forty." She dressed
in handsome style, that is, she wore rich mate
rials, mid hau a comfortably-furnished house;
she was known as “ tho stingy widow.” She
received us very gracefully, until Clem mfbrm
ed her of our proposed party; then followed a
“chapter on the war,” the “horrid blockade 1”
“hard times,” &c., until she wound up by say
ing “it is very difficult for a poor widow to
obtain oven the necessaries of life now.” Clem
gravely assented, and said, “ we could not ask
anything of one in such reduced circumstances.’
“Oh! my dear Miss Howard, you take every
thing so literally "—twitching the heavy silk
tassel of her rich morning robe. “ I only meant
that we all e.v-pect to suffer very much before
the war ceases. -I have never felt it yet. Cer
tainly I will contribute.” ‘
“What shall I put down?” inquired Clem,
taking out pencil and note-book.
But Mrs. Jenkins could not tell precisely—
something handsome, of course.” With this
uncertain promise, we were forced to content
ourselves.
Yfo found most of the country members very
liberal in their contributions, but now and then
met a ‘hard case.’ Mrs. Kirkpatrick.was one
of the aforesaid “ cases.” A well known scold,
she took no pains to conceal her ill-tomper.—
We hesitated about stopping, but Clem said we
must stop, or she would feel slighted, and Mo
na tossed her proud head with an “I'm not
afraid of her; so, electing her spokes-woman, we
entered the house. She came in the room with
a short clay pipe in her mouth, and a home
spun dress, in a state of collapse, revealing her
chumsy ankles. She bade us good-day in a
osort Os growl, and snappishly asked what we
were arter. Mona did not relish this reception
particularly, but stated our errand politely
inquiring if Mrs. K. felt disposed to aid. After
numerous questions as to the contributions
made by others, she replied:
“ I will give you something, and more too
than Miss Grubbs will. I ain’t rich, but I
ain't nigh po stingy as some folks is—seems
like I always can throw in seme." Something
was said about the price of admission.
“What?” she cried, “are you gals out a
beggin’ folks to fling in to make you a nice
tftinper, and then gwiue to ax members fifty
cents to go in to eat what they fling in ? That
is high, I know. You can’t come no sech Yan
kee tricks over me. I've done cut my eye
teeth long ago." But remembering, perhaps,
that we were company, she put her pipe to her
lips and puffed away vigorously.
She talked away very pleasantly, and so
continuously, I thought we would have to
leave In the midst of a sentence. She followed
us to the gate, taking a stand on a pile of
white earth thrown from a half-finished well,
where, with her pipe in hand, she resumed her
conversation. I asked her if she bad any
chickens to sell?
“No,” said she, “I haint got nary chicken
to sell. Miss Higgins axed me to spar her all
I could, and I’Ve done spore her all I’m gwine
to. The chickens I’ve got now, I intend to eat
myself. Theyr'e mostly settin' hens, but I’m
bound to eat em. I can take a old settln’ hen,
that's fin, jest give her a little and run
YXS&B MM3 YSfcSSSCUBi ; , •
her her in a pot and bile her with
riee, ; nd she's good enough for Jeff. Davis bis
self! I had a nice passel o’turkeys to sell, but
the neighbors is done stole 'em. It ’poars like
they’ll steal anything. Why, last water they
, stole meat out’en the smoke-house, and even as
mucli as had the insurance to steal a piece
i o’liver outen the fryin’-pan, while I was down
to the “ cuppen ” milking. They’d steal your
’ head, es they could git it loose I" .
“ I should not like to live in such a thievish
! neighborhood,” said Mona, as Mrs. Kirkpatrick
. paused for breath.
“ Thievish neighborhood!” screamed she, sha
king her red'fist at the astonished Mona, "thiev
ish neighborhood lisit ? Its a great sight bet
-3 ter’n ary settlement you ever lived in. you big,
black-eyed impident jade, you. I ’spect you
think you look mighty purty with them thing
» um-bobs in your poor little years, your ruffled
, frock and monkey jacket. I reeken you stole
that air sassy little hat with them chicken
r feathers Ilyin’ around it; you rnout a stole the
chickens too for all I know. You look for ad
! the world just like one o’these here show wo
i men what rides in a circus! I’ve a good mind
to set my dog on you, Madam, “ thic\ ish neigh
borhood 1” I see you other gals a-laffin’—you 11
lass the other side e’your mouth directly.—
Your’e on tho king’s highway, or I would call
that dog—l mean to do it anyhow, I don’t care
whose highway it is. H-e-r-e Bing, here sic
’em, pup, sic’em Ring I"
But “ King ” failed to overtake the rapidly
retreating “ beggars.”
“Ahl” said Clem, “we can breathe again,
without the dread of Ring before our eyes.—
Mona, how do you feel ?—think of moving out
to Mrs. Kirkpatrick’s settlement , or will you
give a circus f"
We were at Mr. Callahan’s gate. Mrs. Cal
lahan came out to meet us, with a cordial
greeting: ,
“Come in girls, come in. Take off you hats.
Callahan, hand them cliaird, and get some tur
key-wings for the girls—don’t you see how hot
they is ? Men is so lazy, they jest lay about
all day. Come in the back piazza, girls, its a
heap cooler than this room. Callahan, git a
knile and cut them water-millions for the girls
—don’t you know folks always wants ’em when
they’re been in the blazing sunshine? Been
to dinner girls? No? Why, bless me, you
must be starved, Callahao, run tell somo of
them niggers to git— I’ll tell ’em myself. You,
Nancy, fly round and ketch a chicken, and
don’t let it bo five minutes before its on the
table. It ain’t no trouble at all child; hush
up; I know you are all hungry, and, Nancy,
run down to tho spring-house and fetch up
somo butter and milk, and bo back in a minute 1
Why, Callahan, ain’t you got no manners?—
Where is them nice peaches I seen you have
this morning? Eat ’em? Laws-a-massy, 1 I
declare, men is so mean! You might a-knowed
the gills would a-wanted them peaches I Don’t
you nWer do that agin, Callahan, it makes mo
! feel siivagarous."
It was half an hour before we could explain
1 our visit; then she was delighted with the idea
1 of having the party, and contributed liberally.
“ Yes, I’ll go certain. I belong to the Bap
’Hplist consent , and its agin tho rules: but es its
' for tho soldiers, I’ll go. Callahan’s a Lutheran,
“ but he’ll go too. I’ll carry all I can. There’s
* Nancy a-grinnin’ ’bout it now—she thinks she'll
git to go, and I rccken she will. My niggers
always goes to circusses and camp-meetings,
and bobbycues, ami all other kimia o’allows!
! Callahan, ho says, ‘ let ’em go—it’s good for
, ’em —it’s not gwine to hurt ’em.’ They’re, the
p spiletest niggers in the country!’
After we liad dined en the fresh buttermilk,
; hot biscuits, jelly, Ac., ((he chicken not being
so popular with any, except Clem, as were the
1 other dishes,) wo rose to leave. But the old
lady declared it was too warm, so wo lounged
about uutil nearly sunset. Mrs. Callahan sent
us out to gather llowers, and we loaded our
' selves with huge boquets of woodbine, roses,
honeysuckles, lavender aud fbur-o'clocks—the
"old lady’s prime favorites. She apologized
for not going to the gate with us, as her shoes
were off.
“Them's the lastenest shoes I ever seen,
anyhow—l bought • ’em bettern eight year
ago.”
“ They must have been left you by some of
the children of Israel," said Clem ; “ theirs
lasted forty years.”
“No they wasn’t—them was bran span new
shoes when I got ’em. I bought ’em outen a
book-store iu Atlanta, one time when me and
Callahan went up to Tennesse.”
On our way to town, we met Mr. Watson—
one of the richest and meanest men in the
country. “There’s Old Hard Times,” said
Ctern—“ I mean to ask him to give us some
thing, just to hear what he'will say.” Clem
reined up alongside his buggy, and stated the
object of our mission.
The old man was very sorry, but times were
so hard, he couldn’t possibly give anything
He had given a son to the cause, (Ben had run
away to join the Guards,) and had contributed
live hundred dollars for Confederate bonds,
which was all he felt able to do at present.
Clem suggested that he ought not to count
that as a donation, since it paid him better in
terest than almost any other investment, (Clem
did not know, as I did, that he had thousands
loaned out at twenty-live per cent,)—and, be
sides, she urged that his son would get a suit
of the clothing, to be sent to the company.—
But the old man was incorrigible,and we drove
on. Clem observed, almost in his hearing, that
she wished the Yankees could get such as him,
instead of the noble fellows, like Lieutenant
Holmes, who had been taken prisoner in Yir
ginia.
The day of the party, a merry crowd assem
bled at the room to prepare for the party. Such
a clattering and laughing! such a display of
round white arms, as the girls looped up their
sleeves to assist in washing plates and glasses.
Here, a cluster of girls tying up garlands to
festoon the room; there, a lively set wreathing
the rude chandelier. On the tables in the sup
per-room, pyramids of frosted cake looked down
disdainfully at the pies, and loaves of bread —
while hams, fowls, and pickles, were scattered
promiscuously among bowls of custards, jel
lies, candies and nuts. Old Abe would have
withdrawn his blockading fleet in despair,
could he have looked in. No signs of starving
out the rebels there 1
Evening came, to find the house crowded. —
Old women with their pipes, discussed “ the
good old times," with aged men. Soldiers on
furlough, young men and maidens, as well as
the “forty dozen children,” were all there, with
a dark back-ground of smiling faces. Miss
Jemima wore a new white cambric dress, long
sleeves, and close at the throat, with her hands
encased in white cotton gloves. Her face had
so much white chalk on it that Clem said ’-it
made her sneeze every time Miss Jemima
winked her eyes, it brought down such a show
er of dust! With her pale complexion, the
dress and 4 phalk, made her look ghastly. Miss
Kittie was rsdient, in a red tarlatan, that had
is j| — m ijwEfcife. -j %
, odds and end* of old rihftons piMied on that i
skirt like butterflies. White beads m her hair,
; on her wrists aod neck by th# yard*—-with
, blue, red and yellow artificial flowers in her
hair, completed her autri- costume. Mona look- i
, ed Hkc a bright rose bereelf, to her mtt »nk 1
i crape, trimmed with natural roses and pods,
t Clem flitted about like a fairy—her thin blue
■ dress floating about her like a cloud, her long
golden curls falling on her white neck like
i gold-hued cloud-flakes. Wosley Informed me, 1
confidentially, that “Miss Clem is a beauty, ]
sure. I can’t tell whether she looks most like
a blue-jay or a yaller hammer,” adding, “ but 1
she’s pretty enough for either.” Clem and <
Jennie seemed almost übiquitous dancing !
with the bashful beaus, leading in gajpes for i
those who daociug —with kind woros 1
for the old folMrand sugar plums for the chil
dren. 1
I had been dancing with Wesley, at his ur
gent request. At the first chassez, he trod on my
dress and ripped about a yard ofa flounce. He I
did not notice it. The next moment he repeat- i
ed tlie experiment on flounce number two
still unconscious. Before I had time to pin it
tip, be executed some step unknown to French
dancing-masters, and advanced to the middle
es the set, carrying along three or four yards
of drapery. He had caught his foot in the rent
previously made. As he extricated it, he very
blandly remarked, “ Miss Marion, I think I
have trod on your dress, haven’t I?” I went
to the dressing-room and soon repaired dama
ges, With Mona’s assistance. Wesley waited
at the door until we re-appeared, then led us to
seats by Mrs. Callahan.
“-Well, child, did you get your dress fixed ?
Why, Wesley, you might a’killed her es she'd
a fell down and broke her head, when you car
ried off that ruffle so far. I heard of a young
man once, what fell down the stairs and broke
bis head. The doctors japanned him, and done
all they could, but lie went crazy, and had to
be put in a politic asylum. Marion took it mighty
well—she looked just like a seraphine all tho
time.”
“ How did 1 dance V queried lie, anxious to
change the subject. felt tired, I have been
so busy all day.”
“ Tired, was you ? Well, you looked like
you was tired at first—sorter hipity-hop—kind
er like you would, and then again like you
' wouldn’t—more like a lisb-rag than anything ,
I ever seen. Callahan, he Bays, ‘old 'oman.ef
I was close to Wes I'd sorter fetch him a lick
in the back, and I do believe he'd (all to
pieces jest like a glass 9nake.’ But you got
over your tired, by the way you jumped and
• cavorted about—you looked real cantanker
ous.”
Wesley took refuge in the supper-room,
whither I followed him. Clem said, “Just in
time, Marion, to help me.” She showed me
Mrs. Jenkins’ “ somethii% handsome,” in the
form of a dozen hard-bo led eggs! Mrs. Calls
i hau said, (she had followed us), “ I didn’t know
what to bring hardly, but Callahan says, “ ev
i erybody’ll carry cake.” so I brought them pic
i kies, (they are good—l put ’em up in some
o’Callalian s whiskey,) them chickens, baked
• and fried, and these fowl tarts ,” pointing to a
i couple of chicken pies. She had sent, besides,
, a huge tray of marvel*.
! Wesley had been watching me, as I garnish
-1 ed a bowl of chicken salkkl.
i “ Them looks nice."
“What?" I asked.
! “ Them lutfbrafai yertee fixing.” He went
■ round the table, tasting, until Nancy, who was
i present, called out: »
» Miss Clem, you or Miss Marion make dis
buckra man go out dis room. He done pick
all de candy of Mass Blowregard cake, and
now he been pickin’ on Mass Jeff. Davis, like
nigger pick cotton.” Some of the patriotic la
dies had put on these, and. other bright names,
in sugar-plums, on the white frosting.
At the table, some one asked me to hand
something. I did not catch the sound distinct
ly, and turned to inquire what was wanted.
“It was me,” said Miss Kitty Hobbs; “ I
wanted some o'that j)euc4 glue, but I can’t retch
it myself," as she leaned over, and helped her
self to jelly.
“ All things bright, must have an end," and
our party ipora was soon deserted after supper.
' I must tell you one thing more, before I say
na revoir, reader.-
So much cake was left, that some young men
proposed buying it for a soiree dansante they
contemplated on the next evening. We were
glad to add to our fund, and a committee of
young men—physicians,,as it happened —were
appointed to takecbargo,of the cake. Wesley,
i anxious to know the result of the conference,
l asked:
“ Young ladies, what did the doctors agree
to give for your remains' 7”
i We laughed, thinking it wonderful Wesley
had wit enough to ask the question. He was
. innocent of the wit, and became furiously an
■ gry at being laughed at. And thus, the Med
i dleton Soldiers’ Aid Association found money
t enough for the new uniforms of the Meddleton
, Guards.
M-
: A CAMP STORY.
The French army lay encamped only -about
a day’s march from Berlis. It was on the 23d
of October. The sentinels were doubled, and
the most strict orders given, for the Prussian
and Austrian spies were plenty and trouble
some. At midnight, Pierre Sancoin Was sta
tioned at one of the outposts. He was a stout,
bold, shrewd man, and a good soldier. The
Colonel of the regiment was with the Sergeant
on this beat, having requested to be called at
midnight, that he might visit the outposts.
“ Pierre,” he said, after the man had been
posted, “you must keep your eyes open.—
Don’t let even a stray horse go in or come out
without a pass. Do yon understand ?"
“ Ah, Colonel, I shall be prompt.”
“ The dogs are around us,” continued the offi
cer, “ audjj ouJcannot.be too careful. Don’t trust
men, nor brutes, without a good proof.”
“ Never fear, sip,” was pierre s answer, as he
brought his firelock to his shoulder, fend moved
back a pace.
After this, the guard moved on to the next
post, and Pierre Sanooin was left alone.—
Pierre's post was one of the most important in
the camp, or, rather, around it, and he had
been placed there for that reason. The ground
over which he had to walk was a long knoll,
bounded at one end by a huge rock, and at
the other sloping away into a narrow ravine,
in which was a cops* of willows. Beyond
this,copse the ground was low and boggy,
so that a man could not pass it. The rock was
to the westward, aud Pierre's walk was to its
outer side.
The night was quite dark, hngeras asses of
clouds floating overhead, ami shutting out the
stars; and a sort of fog seemed to be rising al
most from the marsh. The wind moaned
through the copse in the ravine, and the air
was damp and chilly; With a slow, steady
‘ triad, the sold ier paced his ground ever' and
anon Stopping to lißtest a*tbe willowsmthe
ravine rattled their leafps, or sows night bird
flew dipt with its quick iljppifig t
An hour had passed away, and the sentinel
had sees nothing to ejpe Isis suspicion. He
had stepped for a moment ctose by the rock,,
when he was startled by a quick, wild screech
from the woods, and in a moment more a large
bird flew over his head.
“ Parblen t“ he uttered, after the night bird
had flown over; “ could mortal man have stop
ped that fellow from passing?"
He satisfied himself that he had done noth
ing in suffering the bird to pass. He had walk
ed the length of bis wey two or three times,
and was just turning bv the rock, when he
was sure he saw a dark object jnst crossing the ;
line toward.the copse.
“ Hold 1" he cried, bring the musket quick to :
his shoulder. “ Hold, or 1 fire!”
And with his piece at aim, he. advanced to
ward the spot where the object had stopped,
but as he came to within a few yards of it, it
started again toward the camp.
Cried Pierre: “ Move any further, and I life. |
What! Prince 1 Hoi ho! why,Prince!”
The animal turned, and made a motion as
though he would leap up on to the sentinel’s i
bosom, but he motioned him off.
“ Bravo, Prince I” Pierre cried, reaching forth
bis hand, and patting the bead of the shaggy
beasl, which had now sat upon his haunches.
Pierre recognised tho intruder now as a great
dog, of the breed of St. Bernard, which had
l>een owned in the regiment for over a year,
and which had now been missing for over a
week. He had disappeared orfe night from
the pickets, and all search for him had been un
availing.
Prince!” Pierre uttered, as though the .
dog could understand every word; “ the men I
will be glad to see you. Where have you been
so long ?’’
The ddg made no answer to this, save a low
whine, and a familiar nodding of the head.
“Now, mon ami, you just keep sitting there
till the guard come, and tlisn we will go to the
camp together. Mind that, will you?”
And with these words, uttered with solemn
emphasis and dus meaning, Pierre started on
bis route again. He had got half way to t|je
rock, when the idea of looking around struck
him, and be did so. Prince was moving to
, wards the camp again.
“Ha! Prince, that won't do. Stop! stop!
or I’ll shoot! The Colonel was positive in his
orders. I was to let nothing pass my post
without the countersign. A dog is something;
you can’t go, Prince—so now lie down. Down!
down, I say!”
With this, the dog lay flat Jotrn, and strdfbh
ed out his fore paws. Pierre patted him on the
head again, and having duly urged upon him
the necessity of remaining where he was, he re
sumed his march once more.
During the next fifteen minutes, the animal
lay perfectly quiet, and ever and anon the sen
tinel, byway of being sociable, would speak
to him.* But, at length, the dog made another
attempt to go to the camp. Pierre had nearly
reached the rock, when he heard the move
ment, and, on turning, could see his uneasy I
companion moving off.
The honest fellow uttered, “I must obey I
orders. The Colonel's word'was plain."
“ Here, parbleu! Come here ! Pere, Prince !
you must die, if you don’t 1”
With a few quick bounds the soldier had
got near enough the dog to tire, autl as the latter
stopped, he stopped.
“ Mon cher ami, you must stay with me.—
Here 1 Come back! I must shoot if you don’t.
Parbleu! what a thing to start the whole
camp for—to shoot a dog.”
Bnt, by coaxing and threatening, the senti
nel got the dog back to his post, and there he
made him lie down once more. And thus mat
ters rested till the tramp of the coming guard
was heard.
“ Ab, now, Prince, we will be relieved,” the
soldier said, stepping near the dog. “You
shall go and see your friends.”
The tramp of the coming guards drew near,
aqfi Pierre was preparing to hail them, when j
the dog took a new start, and in a new direc
tion —this time starting for the copse.
“Here, here, Prince! don’t you run off
again.”
But the dog took no other notice of the call
than to quicken his speed.
“ Back 1 back here 1”
This last expression was forced from Pierre’s
lips by seeing the dog leap to his hind legs
and run thns. In an instant the truth flashed
upon him. Quick as thought he clapped his
gun to his- shoulder and took aim. He could
just distinguish the outline now, and he fired.
There was a sharp cry, Pierre had to turn, for
the guards were approaching.
“ Qui est la?’’ (who goes there?) he cried.
“ Belief guard,” was the answer.
And having obtained the countersign, he in
formed the officer of what had happened.
“ A dog 1” cried the officer. “ Prince did you
say ?”
“He looked like Prince! You should have
seen him run off on his hind legs.”
“ Kh ? hind legs ?”
“ Yes.”
“ Then, come, show us where he was.”
With this, the officer of the mounted guard
pulled his lantern from his breast, and having
removed the shade, he started on. Pierre led
the way to the copse, and there the dog was
found in the last struggles of death. The offi
cer stooped down, and turned him over.
, The hind legs of the dog were booted, and
had every appearance of the pedal extremities
of tho genus of man. But all doubts were re
moved very quickly, for, as the officer turne d
, toe body again, a deep groan came up, and the
words, “ God, take me!” in the Prussian tongue,
- followed.
“ Here’s an adventure I” said the officer, and
he made Pierre hold the lantern, while he rip
- ped open enough of the dog’s skin to find the
i face. But they concluded not to stop there to
investigate; so they formed a litter by cross
i ing their muskets, and having lifted the strange
1 animal upon it, they proceeded on their way.
When they reached the camp, they found half
: the soldiers up, wailing, to find out why the
gun was fired.
Lights were brought, and the body placed
[ upon the ground. The dog’s skin was remov
[ ed, and within was found a Prussian drummer.
He was a small fellow, though, apparently,
twenty years of age, but he was dead —rierre’s
ball having touched his heart, or somewhere
very near it. His pockets were overhauled,
and in one of them was found a cipher, but no
. one of them could make anything out of it—
, The Colonel took it, and directed that the body
be placed out of sight, for burial on the mor
f row.
s Bht this was not the end. About four
■ o’clock, just before daylight, another gun was
l fired on the same spot where Pierre had been;
r and this time, a man was shot who was trying
r to make his escape from the camp. He was
i shotthrough the head. When the body was
gto CMBP, it was jjun# to l» that of •
roopar, who lis4 been saspected Os
d them both, he could translate ttc
mysterious scroll. It proved to be a direction
to the Bavarian to lay his plans for keeping as
near Napoleon’s person as possible, alter he
should enter Berlin, and then wait for further
i orders.
The mystery was explained. The Bavarian
had contrived to call the great dog away from
the regiment, and deliver him up to the enemy,
and his skin was to be made the cover for a
\ spy to enter the camp, and the spy would hare '
. got in, too, but for the sportive order of the
Colonel, and the wilfully faithful obedience of
I Pierre Saneoin.
On the next day Pierre Saneoin was promo
ted to the rank of Sergeant,' and the Emperor
said to himl “If you only make as faithful an
officer as you have proved yourself faithful as a
sentinel, I ask no more.” -
.
[For thirSoutbeni Field and Fireside.]
might thoughts.
BY DELTA.
I’m dull to-night, my spirit's sky seems nlghted o'er
with gloom ;
Methinks dread Fate is spinning now with Stygian
threads my doom— *
Methinks across my path I see a city of the dead,
Among whose tombs of buried hopes my trembling feet
must tread.
My Past has had its pleasures; ne'er can I forget the
hours
When in its groves and verdant parks I gathered honied
flowers;
When life moved brightly on, and all my borrows and ,
my woes
Were but as thorns upon the stem which holds the
blooming rose.
Life was a happy dream then, an unclouded April day,
Whose moments decked in gaudy robes like angels flew
away.
And asl ijuiokly lost them as Time's pinions drove them
past,
Bright Images of futnre joys their shadows round me
cast
I dream not now. No! real pangs across my spirits
steal,
Keallty upon my brow bas deeply pressed his seal.
Whose characters prophetic seem to warm my anxious
soul,
That woes will drape around it till it reaches life's dark
goal
Shall I yield me to despair then t What if life be dark
and drear.
And the Futures’ misty characters like shrouded ghosts
appear ?
What if they haunt my earth-life and drape Its clouded
sky
With funeral curtains, colored deep in sorrow's blackest
dye?
Is time my only Futnre ? Shall my spirit never soar
Above the waves whose spectres mark Karth's sea of
Nevermore ?
No! Time is but a dew-drop on the Future's boundless
stream,
Our souls will live forever, for Eternity's no dream.
Then let sorrows darken round mo, let their ghost* flit
o'er my head,
Demons will not haunt forever, so my soul will feel no
dread,
Hope says," When life I* past and friends shall lay thee
down to rest.
Thy soul with joy shall wlDg Its way to the Edon of the
blest,”
Charttlon, January, 1602.
CHILDRENS CORNER.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
‘ UP YONDER.”
Upon a low coucb, beside a pleasant window,
lay n youthful maiden. The bloom bad wasted
from the cheek, tho pale, emaciated face, the
small, thin hands, and the frail body, all too
plainly indicated the ravages of disease. She
was dying 1 Mourning friends gathered around
the sufferer. With a sweet smile she pointed
her finger upward,and with a long, lingering look
at the loved ofies around she only murmured:
“ Up yonder,” “ up yonder.”
Ah! what visions of glory are embodied in
these words, “ Up yonder.”
Little child, when thy young heart is burden
ed with its childish sorrows; when sinful
thoughts disturb thee, just look “ Up yonder,”
and find comfort,for has not a Savior said, “ Suf
fer little children to come unto me.”
Youthful mariner upon Life's troubled oceaD,
when storms arise, when tempests roar, and
when thy frail bßrk is tossed rudely by the
raging wind, and every hope has fled, direct
thine eyes with steadfast gaze “ Up yonder,”
and find rest.
Weary pilgrim upon Life’s journey, when the
way becomes steep and rugged, when the thorns
pierce the bleeding feet, and obstacle after ob
stacle arises to impede thy onward course, un
-1 til thou art so weary that thofi beginnest to de
spair, then turn thy sad heart “ Up yonder.”
1 Soldier of the Cross, when thy burden seems
1 too heavy to be borne, when thou art tempted
to cast it off and return to thy former ways,
pierce the thick clouds that surround thee with
' an eye of faith, and view the glorious “Up
1 yonder." Take courage, doubting heart. That
is the Christian's home. No sighing, no tears,
* no parting, no sin, arid no death is known “.Up
1 yonder.” Mibiam.
I Never Learned a Retreat.—Among the
prisoners there was a Highland piper. Napo
leon struck with his mountain dress and sinewy
limbs, asked him to play on his instrument,
which is said (o sound delightfully in the glens
and mountains of Scotland. Play a pibroch,”
said Napoleon, and the Highlander played it.
“ Play a march ; w and it was done. 11 Play a
retreat.” “ Nafna,” said the Highlander, “ I
never learned to play a retreat 1” No retreat I
should be the motto emblazoned on the stand
ard of every Christian-warrior, as he goes forth
to battle, 11 not against flesh and blood, but
against principalities, against powers, against
the rulers of the darkness of this world, again at
spiritual wickedness in high places."
— rnmm-
Make the most of your minutes, says the
emperor Aureliu% and fee good for something
while it is in your power.
—|p ••»
Lying is a vice so infamous, that the greatest
liars cannot beaT it in others.
j REBUS.
Two-tlilnU of a color, three-fourths of a kiss,
I Wilt nhrae roil a pn*zz!e for master and miss. *
— ‘
Answer to the Rebus two weeks ago—Snow-ball.