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"WE WILL CLING TO THE PILLARS OF TEE TEMPLE OF OUR LIBERTIES, AND IF IT MUST FALL, WE WILL PERISH AMIDST THE RUINS."
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SIJIKINS, DURISOE & 00., Proprietors. EDG-EYIELD, S. C. DECEMBER 25, 1861. IOUME XX----N0- -1
Thinking of the Soldiers.
We wore jitting around the table,
Just a night or two ago,
In the little oesy parlor,
With the lamp-light burning low.
And the window-blinds half opened,
Por the summer air to come,
And the painted curtain moving,
. Like a busy pendulum.
o! the cushions on the sofa,
And the pictures on the wall,
And the gathering of comforts,
In the old familiar hall,
And the wagging of the pointer,
Lounging idly by the door,
And the flitting of the shadows
From the ceiling to the floor.
0! they wakened in my spirit,
Like the beautiful in art,
Such a busy, busy thinking
Such a dreaminess of heart:
That I sat among the shadows
With my spirit all astray,
Thinking only-thinking only
Of the soldiers far away!
Of the tents beneath the moonlight,
Of the stirring tattoo's sound,
Of' the soldier in his blanket,
In his blanket on the ground ;
Of the icy winter coming,
Of the cold, bleak winds that blow,
And the soldier in his blanket,
In his blanket on the snow!
Of the blight upon the heather,
And the frost upon the hill,
And the whistling, whistling ever,
And the never, neWer ,till,
Of the little leatiets falling,
With the sweetest, saddest sound
. And the soldi'er, Oh ! the soldier,
In his blanket on the ground.
. Thus I lingered in my dreaming,
In my dreaming far away,
Till the spirit's picture painting
Seemed as vivid as the day;
And the moonlight faded softly
From the window opened wide,
And the faithful, faithful pointer
Nestled closer by my side.
And I know, that 'neath the starlight,
The' the chilly frosts may fall,
That the soldier will be dreaming,
Dreaming often of us all.
So I gave my spirit's painting,
Just the breathing of a sound
For the dreaming, dreaming soldier,
In his slumber Un the ground!
The following narrative is founded upon a Gertz
tradition, which the author casually met wi
to this effect: That on Christmas day, Chi
does, actually, come upon earth, in the furtn
a little suffering child, to test the hearts
Christian people, and that whoever receives t
little child does really and in truth rece
Christ, and whoever rejects this little child, d
indeed reject Christ.
It was Christmas morning, but it did i
look like it ; it did not look as one feels tl
Christmas should always look, bright a
merry; for heavy clouds obscured the s'
and-the snow which had fallen during1
night, and which still fell at intervals, y
dark, and 'discolored with the passing felet.
The wind swept in gusts through the lc
streets of the city, and was sharp and pic
ing, so that men who ventured out wore hi
overcoats and walked quick, and women w
wrapped-in furs and great shawls; and Iil
children-for there were plenty of them abro
it was Christmas, and so they did not m
the dreary weather-had on overshoes, a
were all wrapped close in comforters a
mufflers. Their faces looked pinched i
the keen, raw wind, as they peeped out,1
they were bright, and laughed merrily
they turned their backs to the breeze. '
shops were gay with toys, and there w
bright fires within, making a summer atar
phere. Groups were gathered here and th
at some tempting confectioner's window,
now and then the door would open, and s
a savor of hot pies and cakes would et
forth, as made 1he mouth of many a poor li
Yes, it. was Christmas, and no one hee
the cold, o'r the snow, or the wind ; for hce
were light1 and purses were full, and gifts
gone abroad, like messengers, to pave
way and timke the donors welcomei. 'I
could care on Chrisitnas (lay for cold, or r
or snow ? ~for the joy within made Christ
all unmindful of the dreariness without.
the churches were warm stoves, and e
greens, and flowers: anid Christian pe'
were there, who would have braved gre
things than cold anid wind1, to show the
they felt for the Babe of Bethlehem.
In rich men's haouses were soft carpets,
bright anthracite, and Christmaa-trees,
feasts of good things, to w: i :b kinsmen
friends were bidden; and in poor men'sa
tages the doops were shut, and labor was
gotten, and there were huge crackling
upon the fire, and nuts and apples, and jc
and mirth, arud frolic.
Yes, it was Christmas time, the joj
time, when all-rich and poor. high and
master and servant-ahould rtejoice toget:
r to all, equally, this day, hadJ the G
Salation come. So. because it was Christ
mas time, nobody minded the cold, or the
wind, or the snow. nobody but a poor little
shivering child without, and nobody minded
him. He seemed to belong to no one, to
have no one to care for him. The streets
were now full, and people jostled each other
on the aide-walks, now and then stopping,
with a kindly smile and a " Happy Christ
mnas;" but there was no word said to him.
He passed on unnoticed.
Fathers were there, with their little chil
dren, and they held them tight by the hand,
that nothing might hurt them, and pointed
out now this, now that pleasant sight, then
hurried them on, to house them from the fast
coming storm; but no father held out a hand
to him, no one even called him to a shelter.
Mothers were there, hurrying fast home, and
their arms were filled with toys, and the lit
tle child gazed wistfully at the tempting
treasures, but not one look was given to him,
not one offering made his acceptance. He
did not belong to the rich, for they care for
their own; and besides, his clothing was all
too scant, too threadbare. He did not be'ong
to the poor, for there are kind hearts among
them, and, surely, by the fire-side of some ac
quaintance the little wanderer would have
been housed and comforted. No, he was all
alone ; on the wide earth there was not one
heart or one home which he cloud claim-no
body cared for him.
The throng swept on, and be, unheeded by
all, went with them; some turned off here,
some went on there. He stopped at the open
shop-doer, where a group went in. -He was
very cold, and the warm air rushed out against
his frozen limbs and comforted them. He was
very hungry, and how delicious was the sav
ory smell! He leaned against the open door,
and a man with a great star upon his breast
drove him away, and he heard muttered
words within of " vagrant" and " thief," and
the eating and the drinking went on, and the
wine was bright in the cup; but, in the cheer
less gloom, in the nelting storm of that Christ.
mas day, the
"Out of t'
are you craz
the deed wh
a strong ha
drew him c
man passe., .. y, .~
than "Go home to your mother, child; no
business out in such a storm," and went into
the house where the carriage stopped-a
beautiful house with marble steps ; and then
another carriage came, and another, until
- there seemed no end to them ; and richly
dressed people got out, and all went into the
house, for its was a rich man's house, and
within wese bright lights, and bright fires,
and bright music, bright flowers, bright faces
,n sna all glittering in the midst the Christmas
j tree; and the mother flitted about, and swvept
of around in her rich silk and sparkling jewels,
[ and received her guests gracefully. The fath
ivc er leaned back in his arm-chair and was con
"0s tent. God had prospered him almost I e.ond
his hopes, had blessed him in his basket and
got in his store, in his wife and in his children,
t in his friends and in his business ; from pov
aerty he had risen to riches, and in fullness and
ncontent his soul was at ease. Lie looked down
hhis magnificent saloons as his young people,
sin the pride and strength of their youthi, made
merry with their friends, and, as the sound of'
ntheir laughter rang through his great halls,
rhis heart felt glad. Lie smiled upon his little
gchildren, as they danced in their exceeding
rjoy around the beautiful tree, with its thous
e and tapers and its fisiry treasures; and ho
dtalked benignantly with the older friends
agathered around his hearth, as Christian peo
d pie should talk. of that day's high festival, of
d the great congregation, of tho rich offering
h laid upon the altar for the far-oft heathen-.
t yes, all was nice, all was pleasant, all seemed
srig'ht; and the smell of savory viands came
e up, and the heart of the rich man grew soft,
eand seemed to open wide enough to take into2
rits embrace a world of suffering. All seemed
d Surely, from all this abundance, so freely
h given to him, a little, a very little, can be
e spared to the poor, suffering child who stands
te without at the door. Hark ! a knock, low,
gentle, unobtrusive ; another. The rich man
d turned his head, and within the door stood
ist the child, wvet and shivering, and cold, and
Snaked, tand htu'gry. The yellow hair hung
e drippi: g arr.unid his pale face, rand the blue
o eyes, in their pleading softness, were wonder
in, fully beautiful. Blut a moment stood thle in
as intrader; an expression of irriitation aiid dis
n gust passe I over the rich man's face, aind in
r-an instant the well-trained servant had ta
ple ken the chill hy the shoulder, and was turn
ter inig him from the door. Just then, th~e wife
e came forwaird, her woman's heart w is touch
ed, and, "It storms so," she stid to her hus
ad hand in a low tone; "let him go down into
ad the kitchen, uiitil we know sonmething about
ad him. 1 cannut bear to turn him Out."
t The reply was almost stern: " My dear, let
or the servant do his duty."
lgs "Yes," she replied, in a pleading. tune,
" My deatr," saidl the hu-ihand, more~ haursh
ous hy, " this interference will not answer. A t
ltend to y'onr gulests, if yon piense, an'd leave~
r; ine to see to this, or there will besmo end to
" the dross. From wealth 1ie had brought:
1. to poverty, thatin Hih only she might f
t her true riches. He had taken from her I
husband and he children, and her home a
I her friends, because she had so loved them
1- to have forgottenlim, and He would h
her all his own. :SThe work was almost do
and the stony heart had become a heart
That Christmas night, memories of
I past thronged before her, but no bittern
e came with them,-only the heart was life
up in love, for the great salvation that d
I sent to all and to her-in love, that God I
- so loved her, as to pluck her, as it were
s brand from the burning; to have saved I
? even by His sternest discipline.
Hark I does she not hear a cry ! With
helf-uttered "God help the homeless !"
rose, and, shading her candle, went to I
door; she opened it and looked out, all arou
then up into the pitiless sky, and was abc
B returning, when her eye rested on the lit
I child, who had just reached the door, fa
t and weary, and almost exhausted with t
- buffetings of the storm. ile fell forward up
a the door-step. In. an instant she had start
forward ; with words of tender endearme:
"My child ! my poor child I" she lifted Ih
in her arms, %nd carried him into her huml
I dwelling. .By the scant fire she dried t
I dripping clothes,: the streaming hair; s
e chafed the frozen limbs until life and warm
returned. Her scant morsel of food ii
brought out for him; and then, folding I
in her arm:, she soothed him as a notl
might her first-born.
t Has she fallen asleep ? and is she drew
ing ? Was there but now a storm, and t
3 wind howling around, as she shivered os
the dying embers, and a perishing child whi
she had warmed and comforted with her l
!morsel? Was it all true, or is it indeer
I dream? The little.child has risen from 1
embrace, and a halo of light and glory s:
rounded him. He has stretched forth
hands as if in blessing. an-1 ;n s.-h r.,...
Was it a ureamzi . ...
I shall never leave her; she has received 1
Christ.child, she has received the Lord Chi
- himself. Henceforth through her long I
grimage. there shall be no more suffering, i
sorrow, nor weariness. nor want: She has
ceived the Savior to her home and to I
heart ; hencef.orth nod fur ever, the pe: c;
God abideth with her.
She was still kneeling, still gazing up wh
the child had dkappeared, when she v
a rousel by a knock at her door; anot ier, a
the door opene.l, and some one, wrapped ii
- cloak, with a dark lantern, entcred; and til
a cheerful, manly voice exclaimed, c. C:1
Mrs. Gray, get r.ady; my wile has sent
I fr you, and will take no excuse. See,"
continued, "she has sent clo:tk and overshi
t -and there is a little lull in the storm, e
I she says you must come--she cannot let)y
stay here all alone and disnmal, this Chri
smuas evening. Though," he continued, as
light ll upot n'r face', "I cannot say
look dismal : your famce iis as radiant as ta
3 you had seen an angel. Any good nmew~
. continued the clergyma~n, with n express
r of wondering adnmiration as hte looked at I
-" Oh, yes," she repliced, "oh, yes-soT
s thing blessed, but very wonderful. I can
tell it to you here"
" Well, come then," said the good cler
mizan, " let, us go." And carefully wrapp
the cloak around lher, and thbrowing tihe Ii
- so as to aid her in walking, he continu
cheerfully, " We have a merry party at ho:
r but you will not mind the noise of childri
I think you love them,, do you not.?"
S"I always have loved them," she repli
st " but I shall always, after this, love theta mi
t-Not quite undorstatnding this, the cler
4, m:mn male no0 replly, and they soon1 renec
the parsoniag-the pleasanit, quiet parsonm
d There was no luxury there, but warm hei
smale up the lack ; no wealth btut abutid
comfort and happiness ; and this night-1
d Christmas night, this happiest night of all
ye. r-was the jubilee to which miany a Ii
heart looked eagerly forwartd :-the parson
was a home to so many !
-tAs the door opened, the joyous maurmun
young voices was heard, and theni there
ta rush towards the clergymtatn.
e " 0 papla," exclaimed a b~righmt-eyed Ii
e boy, " come in-make haste ; see what w
egot. Please make haste, papaL.
r"What is it, Willy ?" said the clergyn
who was assistinmg Mrs. Gray-" Whati
rs yotu are so cager akott? One would tb
you had cautght St. Claus himself."
" lsetter, paa, said little Willy-" to
at better. We have a little orphant child,
.and whett he camne he was all cold atnd
if and nearly perished; arid mnammta says I
t give hitm moy bcw and arrows, amid my-"
te '- O papa," iterrupted little Maurice,"
It gt stuch beanutiful blue eyes, and such:
n shining hair; ad l've hmroughtt down tmy
as red shoes fo.r him; andl baby will give
her wax doll ; and. mtatmma didn't say so,
..t thitlk-l'im not snre, pana-hut I LI
ter mamma will give him all the money in her
nd purse, to carry him home, because she is so
ter sorry for him, and because he says his home tic
nd is in a far country, and, papa-" - 11
as " 0 Maurice, let.me talk," interrupted Wil.
,ve ly, in his turn. "Papa, mamma says I may is
ie, give him my new clothes, to carry with him; so
of but she says she would rather tot take his tu
clothee off now they are dry, sir; because his E
he are such strange clothes. Mamma says she ti
gss never saw any like them. They have no seam gr
ed in them, sir."
ay " Hush, Willy," said the clergyman, a t
ad strange feeling of wonder creeping over him. tu
, a " Where is the child? How did he come here?" an
ter 1" He knocked at the door, papa; and mam- ad
ma opened it, and told him to come in. There
a he is, sir." be
he And he pointed to the group in the centre to
he , of the root. ra
id, There, indeed, stood the little child; but in
ut how changed in appearance 1-no longer p.l e
tle and wan ; the face was now radiant with love ho
nt and joy, as he looked around on the little at
he children, -each prolfering uOme service. Baby's '3|
an dull was in hisarns, and she herself, the little, el
ad toddling, wee thing, leaned fondly against th
t, his knee. Willy's bow and arrows were at of
m his side, and Willy's new clothes were lying th
le near by ; and Maurice's red shoes, and all ce
he the toys-the precious toys-of all the little Ii
be ones around him were heaped at his feet; th
th each had parted with the most valued treas
as ure-each had given freely his best gift to ca
lm the poor stranger. At the table, close by, the pa
er I mother prepared a feast of good things for fo
the weary orphan-every now and then draw- su
n- ing near, as if a mnesumcrie influence were il
he upon her, to gaze lovingly upon the little it;
M Mrs. Gray had been forgotten ; but she th
ast was there, se full of fervent lore and adora- cI
a tion, as she recognised the little stranger,
er that she needed no care ; and the good cer- pU
r- gyman was there, drawn towards the little in
iis child, with a craving, yearning love, for wl.ich an
t.. ",. ,..,,,u~ .. .~'", th
he the poor stranger; ..
ist and to care for him,-but, as yet, only be
il- cause they were indeed true disciples of that.
r Master who spent His life doing good. And .
re- now that lie had been fed, and warmed. and ri
cr clothed, aid contorted, and they were all C
of: hanging eagerly about Hiim, gazig with a
wrapt admiration at the beauty which grew
re more and more radiant as they looked upon
-as it ;-drinking in the gricious words which
nd fell from his lips, and wimdering at the m
a with a feling which deepened into awe, when I
en !iulo Maurice, pointing to the marls im
e pressed upon his hands. asked him what they m
no were; and the answer, slowly and distinctly, C
he fill on every car :
>cs "Those with which I was wounded in the b
nd house of mry friends."
ou And then Ie drew the lit tle children cl.osem
.to Ilim, ani laid Ihis hands upon thenm, and .
he IA'msed them ;and then spreading out UIis
ouarm:s, as if blessing them all, He seemed, as
h they ga~e upon Him, to become t::iinter andlC
ti fainter to their sight. yet imore anid muore bean- I
ontiful-only, as the vision vanished, they ctudbi
er. ulilI plainly see the imarks in the outsprend
m.palms, the crown of thorns, and the halo 01ic
iot glory around the hca.,--and, like a strain of
Idying music, low, yet distinct and sweet, camne
I. to every ear and heart the blessed words:
"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto One of
ht the least of these My brethurou, ye have done
ed. it iunto M4e." t
ne Csou mso CoM ms.-TheWai-h- ei
aM says:o e.M~elnt
; It is the intention ofGnIclla to
rcons.olidate the different companies of each
regijment of the regular army.
The eigencies of the service hitherto have
g.made it necessaryv to scatter this force, so L
ge.thas hr is hardly anywhere a whole regi
rt mntt of tihe olid army togethter. To effect I
Sjthis consolidation, a number of companies of hi
infantry are to he sent to Pickens, where the t
te rest ofthie regiments are statiotned, and other hI
icoimpatnies are to be brought from Fort P ick- 1
ecens here to fill uip the regiments to which
or they belong. Thus, in a litul while, each of
the regiments will be all together, for the P
fsirst time sintc the Mexican war, and in somen
IteIinstances for the first time since they were
, organized._____ ____
MirTho Charleston Mercury, of Dcm- r.
an, ber 16th says:I
s it The energy and firmness displayed by Gen' ti
ink Ripley, durinig the fearful scenes of Wednix- y~
day night, have justly won for him the grati. j
utch jtnde and respect of our who'e comimunity. l
,ir ; Riding, as he cotnstantly was, inm the very di
vet teeth of the fire, his cooluess, vigilance and tl
nay intrepidity were conspicumou,. as we know
they would o on the field of battle. Certain
e' it is, that nothitng bit his prompt assumtption t
off, jof the responsibility of hlowing up the inter
eW 'enn builditngs could ever have saved the I
himi i Catholie I rphani A:;ylim, the Roper Ifospital,a
btj (cointainintg hundlreds of sick.) anud the houses t
.inkr evu.d thna- strnctnre.t
The Charleston Fire.
The Mercnry furnishes the fol'owing addi
inal items of the destructive Fire of the
th and 12th lust :
The splendid Cathedral, the loss of which
so much deplored, was built of brown sand
>ne, and cost over $150,000. I-s archite
re was gothic, and after the fashion of the
izabethan period.' The body of the struc
re was 160 feet long, and the spire towered
acefully 225 feet above the ground.
The Public School in Friend street, one of
e finest in the country, with all the furni
re, &c., is destroyed. Hundreds of boys
d girls will, for a time, be deprived of its
A negro woman aged about 35-a cook
longing to Mr. Vm. Stevenson-was burned
death in his residence, whither she had
shly returned to save some articles belong
g to her mistress.
It is somewhat singular that the tir: should
wre burned a path close, to, and almost ex
tly parallel with, that o.f the great lire of
S. It is, indeed, fortunate, that the noble
or:s of the firemen succeeded in preventing
e Eanes from crossing Church street, north
Market. Had the Charleston Hotel and
e Hayne street range caught, it is very
rtain that the track of desclation. would
ye been frightfully widened, perhaps, up to
e very banks of the Ashley.
The cause of those who are suf'ering by the
lanity, excites a just and substantial sym:
.thy. Our banks and our citizens have come
rwnard nobly in this emergency, and have
bscribcd most liberally. The amounts.
ough large in them.elves will be altogether
suflicient for the great work of relie:f. More
lp is waned and that immediately. Let
ose who can spare no money contribute in
)thing and provisions. Clothing is much
eded-especially children's clothing. Many
or babes were snatched faom their cradles
the midst of the confusion. and are now in
alost naked condition. We trust that
ire will be no delay in affording assi.,tanee
-- or city i.
mity, and already their co:tributions, ad
d to our own, have rolled up anioumil
Lich, in the band= of the diseret and 1o
tumittee, will go fhr indeed tuards miti
ting the s:,rrows of absolute and hopeless
stitution. Already several hundreds of the
or vicitns of the fire receive their daily
-te!ance fron the plain but bountiful ta
es which the public liberality ha= so speedi
provid'e(l. From rand after to-lay shelter
the proper kind will al.o be gi en to the
any who ICeei it. But the rtesources of the
>mmittee are still far short of hing propor
inate to the -;reat work which they have
;'ore them. They rteed ni('re helJ, and im
e liate help. Let thoie who cannot give
oney, co::tribute pr~ovisi6os. Anid those
ho can aftbrd no as-istance in either of these
rmo-, may~i he a'le to furni~h wla t is tinite
ile,-ira'ob!c, and what is now e.ge:llly necd
l--od. clothing. There are very few lami
Sin our city that canniot prepaIre at once a
mtdle. of surplus or east-rtff etohing. Snehl
mntributions, particularly if they contain
ildren's or iniut.'s clothes, will be invalue.
e at this time.
There are niany who have lodL their all by
ali:1e, and fur whose r'elief somiething di!
renit fromt mere supplying of bodily wanus
il be necsmrv. They are th''se who, uf
the nighlt of thle G reat liuter, erdjoyed a
.mpeteince, which has now beeni suitdenly
id -utterly wrested fromn their posse.wion,.
LI these, pecuniary idi must be given. 11
tsw with our people to see t hat tis aid shall
giveni with no .-tiniting hand.
Fromi the M1euryfs Virginia c~rrespon
muee we gathmer the sub'juined in reference te.
e great lire:
The noevs reached Richunld yesterday, ail
l.dav. Since then, thme talk of the town
is been of inothing else. On th~e street, ii
e: hmiis and pa~r of the great hotels, Iin
ie stoires and oflices, amnd at the bhoard ing
yuse tables, no other topic is so mutch thoughi
'.rThe warL is virilly i.>rgot t
Everywhere the livelist sytmpiathmy is ex
ressed for your stricken people. This will
>t be a symnpathyv of the mnouth only. A
,cetinig of the citizens is to be called by th<(
[ayor to-mo101row, for the purpose of brinig
ont systematic and enlarged measures
" a it the work of an intendhiarv 7" is
ie nger que'gion on every lip. f' hOW th<
'akees will howtl with deli;;ht--how theii
ulpits and churches will thundelr with halle
ijahs over this visintion of //,wi.- God-thic
ilication of their own vengeful spirit--poi
ie hot-bed of secession." You -hould hea1
-ith what bitterness theso words: are spoken
Whetith:r thet Ii r.e was acciden:,:al or inten
onal. the eifeet will he to exasfperate eCl
11n1 in the tid. Imupati, lit at the long de:
Ly, they are niow infuriated i:y your citv'
wfuil e:daminity; and the Yanko regimenit:
nit comeI in contact with Southern troop
ithin thn next t~WO wocks will thint- t..
inaudible, "vagrant, beggar, station-house,
being the only words which could be heart
"But," persisted the wife, "you do nc
know how fearfully it storms."
" My dear," was the imperative reply, "
insist that my order shall be obeyed. The sti
Lion-house is his proper place."
She ventured no further remonstranet
The little child had been looking earnestly a
her, his hands stretched out imploringly : nom
they fell listlessly by his side, as he was turne,
away, the blue eyes filled with tears; and sh
eard the words, "If thou hadst known-"
With a heavy heart, for the good she coult
not do, she turned to her husband: an ca
pression of almost terror had crept..over hi
ace, as he muttered, "What did he say
' How hardly shall a rich man enter the king
lom of Heaven 1 " But, in another moment
ie had crushed down the little upbraiding
voice within, was as bland and as tender-heart
,d as ever, and the music, and the dancing
nd the feast went on; the mirth and th
'rolic were louder than before. The -in
;hrieked and howled around the house, bu
here was warmth, and comfort, and merri
nent within, nothing but the storm and tLs
:old, and tife little wandering child without
)n that Christmas day.
Night was coming on, the streets wer<
lark and deserted, for all who could clain
.shelter had sought it;. even the watchna
mad taken refuge from the driving rain, unde
;ome porch or covered nook, and the chilk
passed on unmolested. Lights shone fron
he windows, and, in the pauses of the storm
:e could hear the sound of mirth and musi
rom almost every drelling; for in that stree
were only the dwellings of the rich.
Now, he would try another. This is less
pretending; a court in front, and a porch
rom which he can look into the windows
What a home scene of comfort met his eyes
ather, mother, and little children ; and upon
.he table lay a Bible-a Bible with pictures
md a little child was looking at the picturi
)f the Nativity there: he is sure of a welcome
o peace for them. The mother ought rall.1
.o be ashamed of herself to send him out or
ruh a night as this."
"Oh, but, mother," interrupted the boy
'he is an orphan, and no beggar : he did no
yeg; he only said somcthing about not har
ng where to -lay his head."
" Pooh ! nonsense " said the mother, " thi
yid story ; they all say-that. I have no pine
or him. Here, give him this, and tell hin
here is a boarding-house around the corner
bhere he can get a night's lodging," and shi
held out money to the boy.
" Mother, I ean't," said the bey ; " f can
not, will not do it. I would not turn a dal
)ut on .-uch a night as this ;" and the bol
resolutely took his seat at the window, an
trie to look out into the dark night.
"Mary, mother," said her husband, hal
-eproachiful, "this is not like you; you wil
eel serry for t his."
Hecr check flushed: "1I anm not afraid," wa
br reply ; and, takcing up the money, shm
valked to the door.
" Here," she said, "take this, and gi
round-" she thought- she saw the chill
staning before her; she placed the money l
his hand, as she supposed-it fell to the grond
A. heavy sigh met her ear, and these word
breathed forth: "11He camne unto his own, an
his own received him not." She looked on
startled and bewildered, all around ; the clil
was gone. There wsa~s no one there, niothin
but the dar-k night, the sharp wind, the pelt
ing rain. She shut the door and returned.
"You have acted hastily, Mary," said he
" Mother," said the little child who wi
looking at the pictures, " who was it the
said, 'lie had not wvhere to lay his headl?'
" Mother," cried out thme boy from the win
dow, starting up suddenly, " I saw him pr.s
that beautiful child! and he smiled at m
and held out his hands, and, 0 mother !'' an
his voice sank to a whisper, " there were marli
Yes, he had pased swiftly--that little chii
...swiftly through the dlark street, that drear
stormy night. Twilight had long since va:
ished, and darkness, which could almost b
fet, had taken its place ; the broad stre<
ha'l sielded t~o a narrower and closer on,
where the lamps, at~ long distancees apa:
served no pur p.s 'to guide t he wandierer. 1]
had left the homes of wealth anti luxury ; I
had reached the abodes of pover-ty; but il
storm spares not these. Fiercer and fit red
sweep the gusts through the narrow stree
a'd the snow, which has become rain, I Oiu
downwards, as if all the windows of Hleavi
Within one of these small, dark housess
a woman, all alone; a pale, grave womna
The widow's dress was rusty and worn, as
many day-" hadl passed since first it. was p
on ; the bare floor, the sinugle candle, tl
scanty fire, told a tale of grea'. povett, b
with the poverty was stratigely blended
mir of refinemecnt and gentloees-. She w
one whomi God loved and wais chastuning.
...a be.kiu the fny heart and turning a
devils incarnate have been let- loose upon
But what good word can I say--what in
spiring t:onght Can I su1gCst, to lighten even
a little, the great cabimity that has befailen
you ? Shall I tell you, despise the joyous ac
clamations the anl.::es will make over the
ashes a;:1 .l.sckened p:Ies which Wele: once
your homes 2 Shall I recall toyou the heroic
quality of South Carolinians, which has be
come a proverb in eve!rv mouth ? Shall I
tell you that we here in Iichnond are drawn
yet closer to you by this dire afliiction ? Shall
I remind you that what was admiration in
the brave d:avs when your proud little city
inaugurated this great war against a vulgar
and bloody despotism, becomes love, now that
a grievous trouble has come upon you ? A
sweet coisolation lies hidden in every sorrow,
and it is not hard to show how this terrible
blow Imlay do you much guod; for thereas,
we of the whole Confederacy once envied vou
anl were jealous of your finne. we now love
you and pity you, and are glad to be able to
help you. Not for nothing comes grief upon
men. cities or iations. 'fhe $.i!vcr lining of
a divite tUrpo. e is hif the black cltoad.
You v:il! find it in good thne.
That the burnt distrikts of your city will
be rebuilt, we know. We have unbounded
faith in the energy. the0 courage, and the for
ti:ude of youir peoi:je. They inunt .snfter
great deprivatiion. btI thank t.ad thoy an
not sulbjw.ated. but free--r"ee as the air ( f
he1arer.-.free: to light the in-:ader-free t,.s t
swiftly :n1d j-'oousiy to w.,rk--free tUo join
bearts, Lands and pur~-s, ri'h and poza. rl.a k
and wiy!te. hA-:rin.: In, mau t un! ..e:n .
to r.:-ce e the desolated h.miues, .'.nd to m:.le
Chiarkie.ton the pri'e, as .she is . >w the i
loved. of tile whole Ctniederaev. 1 t.r-t : nd
beli:v' the ent ire South will .end ieh sub
st-mtia' troofs of symzpathy ibr yon. tl-t hi all
time to come Charles ton, rebuilt. will feel and
bat part and uarcel of the vealt, a- :,:
ouity oi eveyi State in te Southe ia lL"jihipulie.
WeC na~t. :21 oi ppr in tari:la
the new burn citI must belonig to the So::ti.
- o',ool of Experience.
only ~yal p'':ple in theIa South are tho.e w:o
.- n'sy to the Confde.rate Goiernment.
They tho. ht. Wt hen tie- Coton t:les"
eru h :-t " he reb el Ii.. a" i hre n..m ths.
The three inotihs have pas.ed. and live more
have beeni added to them, and the ' rebel
lion," instead '1 heinr " crnshed -ant." a,. x
tP:.led: from the seven Cs Son State-; t.> the
si. l:rlt-r Sitt, and the .-:r if &ubjuhta
ti):I is as ihr iruli accomp 1 ~h:nent. as wbr:n
tie or. mcai.it calli;;r ciu t:e 7.5,(10) men
tor three lr.o::tii 1 w,.; i:aue.
A1" they tauht. ?co. that it wa, only
nesess:u y for their allmy to appear upon our
coasts. in order to create a stampede among
nur slave population. ExperiecI~e has Iaught
the in hi-:, asi the *o~the vo er.ees. that
.h1ey were- oly at Ihlt. The~. negroes of i~
South are not to bo ;:anmon~ed by the riecep
tive pir'mni-e if the Yarkhers. They know
t'at V cI: iate are ot~ i their iendi'1; they
:a'z- that tdir 1- iiiate naste-r. are their
rue niends ; and they will not listen to the
fa'se promiises of thec deceit fn!l feoe. Experi
enee hz's in;t. the Yhn:kee~s this fact, and
Il~e New York Jut::r:.. or Com:are.: i. tin
st -:ed to admitt the truth of it. as it is COr'
rob~orated by seVerni gen' emen, and toe add
that . it is staid that a vi~at to .C.ath Caroliza
has already el'ened thle eyes of ma genftle
men~i of f..rmer ailidontu incli nati' m:, to soe
fe~w li,:. in 'laaVerv.'
As5 the w:.r pirgr:e-:. the' 'iee of tlh:- sie
my wvill be openieda ;o more thenz, and they
wtill. in dt end', gto'i' ti b wi :.r, if not b- t
ter mnen. for " x p -i .zm i; :. du:: esa het
i.nIorant peopde will l-arn in no othecr.-- .u.
A MIanviAN; i.:cI~nK-r D)5ts;Teri I.t'
coI.x.--We fin-l dhe fo'llowi ng. inert:;n pats
g r: ph in the Lyoch~burg Viydinian .ofth
We- have received in.tel;.ence through an
oflier aun~tchetd to ( en:. Cl trk's sidff. who
arrived lhere laat nbrht by de Orange and
Alexanidria trait fromn Cenitreville, that ain
enitire Mar3 land regimen: hud deserted Uin
coln's army ; bringaing n ith them their arms
and equipmcnts. Our informanat says lie saW
them at Centreviile before he h~fr there ves
Since wvri ting the above, we have received
tIn ulle II:vt.Th pati rt::mlrs oh the tiP
scruo eetiot r-&;--: 'lI i.e ri-egiet wvere s.et
out ent picket fronm Ale.aniiria, and when
thev reacede' tile front of our lines ther hisit
cd the Cnfede'rate Lat' and m:.rhel into
Cn:.treville. T'hey wvere accmpani by
theair Colonel anIdie c.ticer4 of t he re.
The 1 .erislature of Alabamta hia) appropria
ted1 91.'00 for theC purpose c' or rtniu.t the Fior