Sunday dispatch. [volume], May 23, 1847, Image 1

About Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1845-1854

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Sun t) i
VOLUME 2. NO. 25.
<HI)c ouni»ftD UKspcitd),
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SUNDAY MORNING,
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THE SOLDIER'S DEATH-BED.
Wie herrlich die Sonne dort untergeht! da ich noch
ein Bube war—war’s mein Lieblingsgcdanke, wie si* zu
leben, wie sie zu sterben! Die Hauber.
Like thee to die, thou sun .'—My boyhood’s dream
Was this ; and now my spirit, with thy beam,
Ebbs from a field of victory ! —yet the hour
Bears back upon me, with a torrent’s power,
Nature’s deep longings:—Oh ! for some kind eye,
Wherein to meet love’s fervent farewell gaze;
Some breast to pillow life’s last agony,
' Some voice to speak of hope arfd brighter days,
Beyond the pass of shadows !—But 1 go,
I, that have been so loved, go hence alone;
And ye, now gathering round my own hearth’s
glow,
Sweet friends ! it may be that a softer tone,
Even in this moment, with your laughing glee,
Mingles its cadence while you speak of me:
Of me, your soldier, ’midst the mountains lying,
On the red banner of his battles dying,
Far, far away ! —and oh ! your parting prayer—
Will not his name be fondly murmur’d there I
It will!—a blessing on that holy hearth !
Though clouds are darkening to o’ercast its mirth
Mother! I may not hear thy voice again ;
Sisters! ye watch to greet my step in vain ;
Young brother, fare thee well! —on‘each dear head
Blessing and love a thousand fold he shed;
My soul’s last earthly breathings!— may your home
Smile for you ever ! —may no winter come,
between your hearts !—may even your
tears,
For my sake, full of long-remember’d years,
Quicken the true affections that entwine
> Your lives in one bright bond ! —I may not sleep
Amidst our fathers, where those tears might shine '
Over my slumbers: yet your love will keep
My memory living in the ancestral! halls,
Where shame hath never trod: —the dark night
falls,
And I depart. —The brave are gone to rest,
The brothers of my combats, on the breast 1
Of the red field they reap’d : —their work is done — ;
‘ Thou, too, art set! —farewell, farewell, thou sun ! (
The last lone watcher ©f the bloody sod,
Offers a trusting spirit up to God.
[Original.] ‘
Heligiouy of tl)c ißorlfr. j
NUMBER EIGHTEEN. ’
1
Tho Moravians claim their origin from the 1
Greek Church of the ninth century ; though ec- 1
cleaiastical writers usually attribute the esta- '<
blishment of the sect to Count Zinzendorf, a 1
« German noble This is doubtless an error ; for <
the writings of this church go back to the twelvth
century. Three hundred years ago they were <
called the United Brethren ; and at that period «
they discarded all forms of faith, professing to 1
be governed solely by the written word. 1
Various persecutions at the time of and sub- J
sequent to the religious revolution, produced by <
Luther and Calvin, having destroyed or dis- <
parsed the churches in Moravia, one little co- '
lony found shelter under the protection of Count :
Zinzendorf in upper Alsatia; and it was on his ;
estate that they built the famous village, called ’
Herrnhut, “ the watch of the Lord.” The i
count, a benevolent man, gave them his protec
tion and assistance, and tried hard to convert '
to Lutheranism, but the result was his own con-
* version to the faith of his colony of religious re
fugees, and in 1735, he was ordained a bishop
over them.
But bishops among Moravians have no rank
QT authority. Their affairs are ordered upon :
principles of perfect equality; and in all diffi
cult questions the decision is left to Providence.
Meekly sensible of the frailty and falibility of
> human judgment, all important affairs are de
cided by lot; a scriptural manner of decissiqn,
in which they recognise the finger of God.
Thus in the choice and consecration of bis
hops, a certain number are first selected, who
draw lots for consecration.
The affairs of the Moravians, at their great
central establishment in Germany,-are conduct
ed with singular harmony and regularity. The
government is divided into four departments or
committees.
1. The Missions’ department,which superin
tends the establishment and maintenance of
mission establishments all over the world. The
Moravian missionaries are wonderful examples
of toil, devotion and sacrifice. They are to be
• found among the most barbarous nations from
the tropics to the polar regions ; and spread es
pecially from Kamskatchka to Greenland,
among the savages of our own continent.
2. The Helper’s department. This commit
tee watches over the purity of doctrine and
moral conduct in the different congregations of
the faith.
3. The Servants’ department. Under this
department comes all the economical concerns
of the Unity. They attend to the agriculture,
the manufacture, and the trade and finances of
the community.
4. The Overseer’s department; which sees
that the constitution and discipline of the bre
thren is everywhere maintained.
All these departments are subject to an Eld
ers* conference,which presides over and governs
** all, and under which are the conferences of con
gregations.
These consist of the lower and subordinate
separate organizations, wherever situated, and 1
are made up of the following departments, or
individuals. ‘
1. The Minister, who is the presiding officer, 1
or general overseer of the congregation ; and if
a large one he has a Congregation Helper.
« v 2. The Warden, who superintends the out- j
ward and worldly affairs of the congregation, •
and assists every individual with his advice.
3. The Married Pair, consisting of a husband '
and wife, whose duty it is to see to the matri- ;
monial and spiritual condition of all the mar- 1
ried couples in the congregation.
4. The Single Clergyman,whose duty it is to :
look after the morals, and manners of the young
men of the congregation.
5. A Committee of women who attend to the
peculiar affairs of their own sex—spiritual and *
temporal—whose duty and business it is to an
nalize all the gossip, make matches and perform
regularly and officially the same duties as are
performed irregularly and unofficially in all our
c-hurches and communities.
Besides the private families, each congrega
tion has what are called choir-houses, or eco
nomics, where they live together in community,
but with an entire separation of single men and
women, and of widows and widowers; each
class under a separate superintendance.
No marriage can take place without the con
eent of the board of elders of the congregation.
This consent is applied for, and given unless
there is good ground for its being withheld.
The greatest attention is paid to education,and
the children are so trained in the feelings,morals
and discipline of the sect, that irregularities and
insubordination are of very rare occurrence.
The power of education in moulding a commu
nity lias never been more triumphantly exhibi
ted. Education, in the hands of the Moravians,
does all that is claimed for it by Robert Owen,
♦r the disciples of Charles Fourier.
The missionaries are all volunteers, and are
s all of one mind and thought. They are all in
companies of at least six persons, and. possess so
marked, so steady, and so amiable a character,
that uhey make a strong impression. In the
# missionary establishments in North and South
America, Asia, and Africa, they have about IGO
missionaries, and are instructing about sixty
thousand persons at their various stations.
• Holding the Bible as their rule of faith and
conduct, they are very tolerant and recognize
all Christian denominations as branches of the
'visible church of Christ. They hold with great
liberality to the idea of non-essentials, and do
not consider it at all necessary to quarrel where
they cannot entirely agree.
In an educational, politico-economical, and
social point of view, the Moravians are a very
interesting sect. How much they are doing,
and how little we hear of them I They make
no noise, no excitement, no clamor. They do
not blow a trumpet to vaunt their charities—
nor hold world conventions, nor try to disturb
the peace of society. In these respects they are
-an example to other sects.
Coming to the Pint '.—“ Now Mr. Snooks”
eaid a Ma one evening to a young gentleman
h who had been for some weeks very assiduous in
his attentions to her daughter, “ you have been
paying your distresses long enough to our Meli;
. and its time as how you were making known
Tyour contentions, so as not to keep my
in wywm longer ” *
THE FIRST FALSE STEP;
OR, THE PATH 0F CRIJME.
A ROMANCE IN THREE PARTS.
MSB# 4
(Lieutenants Heartwell and Lacy—the Gale.)
PART I.
INNOCENCE AND TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER XV.
HEARTWELL S PROGRESS THE GALE AT SEA,
AND THE SAILOR’S DREAM MIDNIGHT
ON THE OCEAN.
Gladly, and with a feeling of exquisite relief,
do we turn from the vice and profligacy of such
a man as Haiding, and from painful reflections
on the most ummented sufferings of poor Minna
Woodward, to follow the more cheering, the
more noble, and the more heart-delighting pro
gress of our friend Heartwell, in whom wc feel
so great an interest, and whose welfare we have
no doubt will be equally dear to our readers.
Gallant Heartwell! long may you remain in
happy ignorance of those secrets which will
ma ke you feel most desolate ; —long, long may
it be before you again touch the shore, but to
learn those dreadful tidings that will be more
than sufficient to drive your soul to madness,
and make you. contemplate some desperate act
which will involve you and all you love, per
chance, in one common destruction.
But to our narrative : Heartwell reached his
destination full of radiant hope—such hope that
a gallant heart like his was entitled to feel; and
who could possibly be more entitled than such
a man as Heartwell, to feel emotions of happi
ness and felicitation ? Armed was he in his
country’s cause; his deeds of gallantry arid
daring were the themes of conversation to all
who knew him; he was ene of those bold
spirits of which a century produces but a few,
and who are equally' esteemed for personal
prowess and bravery, as’ they will be of the abi
lity to command.
As Harding had arranged, Heartwell, when
he arrived at found that he was to
take immediate command of the vessel, and
bring her round the coast, stopping at various
places for the purpose of permitting him (Hard
ing) to put off to join her.
Such a duty as this is at all times a trouble
some one, but still itisone whicha lieutenant at
all times is bound toperform for his captain, if so
directed; and little suspecting 1 who that captain
was, and what circumstances they were that de
tained him ashore, poor Heartwell bent all his
mind to his profession, and with the greatest
care and assiduity directed his energies to the
service of his country, and the pleasure of that
man who on shore was wndermining his every
prospect of earthly happiness.
The ship was as gallant a one as ever stemmed
the waters; the crew were all picked men;
and, to take the Eolus frigate all in all, there
never went out of port a vessel more admirably
adapted to support the honor and glory of old
England.
It was a hazy and dusky night when the Eo
lus, taking advantage of a light breeze that
gently filled her flowing sails, sailed majesti
cally amid the cheers of thousands of specta
tors out of Portsmouth 'harbor. It was well
known to all that her service was of the boldest
and most, hazardous description; she was to
hover round the principal ports of the enemy,
occasionally to make a dangerous reconnisance,
to pick up what prizes she could, lodge them in
some British port, and then as quickly as possi
ble resume her hazardous service.
Th* aU|U, on that evening, sank fiery red, and
there was. a strange bank of black clouds in the
far off horizon, presenting in its slightly indent
ed outline all the appearance of some stern bat
tlemented wall, breaking the clear outline of
the upper sky. Heartwell stood on the quar
ter-deck of his gallant vessel with his arms
clasped behind him, and he gazed long and ear
nestly upon that south-western eky, which was
glowing with the ruddy hues of sunset. Heart
well had been too long on the ocean not to un
dei stand it welUin most of its moods, and as he
looked upon the portentous aspect of the wea-
> ther, he suspected that one of those channel
. squalls, which prove frequently more disastrous
1 to shipping than the wildest storm upon the
> most extensive ocean, would not be long before
it showed itself. He was not one, however, to
• be lightly intimidated by the strife of the ele
; iner.ts, although under the circumstances, a
■ much heavier responsibility rested upon his
shoulders than he ought to have stood under;
he well knew that if any untoward accident oc
curred he should be blamed, while any amount
■ of success in watching a gale, or in beating an
enemy, would, to all intents and purposes, be
: appropriated by the captain.
But this did not deter him from performing
• his duties to his country—that was a paramount
consideration ; and when he saw that the dark-
■ ness was increasing,. and that the mysterious
looking bank of clouds was rising slowly but
surely from the horizon, and must soon envel
ope the whole sky in gloom, he beckoned to the
second in command, a bluff and weather beaten
■ officer, and pointed to the south-west, he said,
“ What think you of the weather ? To my
mind, some precautions against a sudden acces
sion to the light breeze that now fans our decks
would not be amiss.”
“ Why, to my thinking,” replied the other,
“ looking at all things, we are as many miles as
we can be now too near in-shore. If there ain’t
a gale to-night, I’ll never trust the looks of a
sun-set again.”
“It is my own impression,” said Heartwell;
“ with this light breeze we ''■an run out. I shall
be much mistaken, if it last us long.”
Far off, upon the surface of the sea, there
was a suspicious-looking curl of foam, not natu
ral to the mighty element under ordinary cir
cumstances; the light wind, too, which Heart
well had just mentioned, and which blew ra
ther from the shore than toward it, was evi
dently not so steady as it had been, but seemed
on the increase, for it came only in fitful gusts
now and fhen ; while, in the intervals, the
small quantity of canvass which the vessel car
ried, hung idly to the masts, and she reeled
heavily in the trough of the sea.
These were a combination of circumstances,
always suspicious to the eye of a seaman; and
although the nautical saying of “ after a calm
comes a storm,” might seem to convey nothing
but an evident truism, yet experience has taught
those who have led a long life on the deep, that
nothing is more suspicious and indicative of
some coming elemental strife, as a calm of the
nature which seemed nqw to exist in the
channel.
The crew of that gallant vessel had been
picked, as well for good seamanship as well
known and undaunted courage; and possibly now
there was not a man among them, who did not
anticipate the orders Lieutenant Heartwell
gave.
These were to get out to sea as quickly as
possible; and with that wonderful precision and
energy of movement, which in our vessels of
war ever excite such admiration, tne course of
the stately fabric was altered, as if by magic ;
’ and from running along the coast, almost with
i in gun-shot distance, the Eolus turned seaward,
i and taking advantage of every puff of wind to
i expedite her progress, she went through the
; surge of waters for more than an hour, at con
i siderable speed.
r By this time the sun had completely sunk,
th« mass chuds .nearly climbsd
up to the meridian of the heavens, when the
wind suddenly dropped completely, and the ship
no longer made any perceptible progress through
the waste of waters.
The second lieutenant walked up to Heart
well, and pointing to a blacky cloud which now
enveloped a third of the sky, he said—
“ It’s beginning to get lighter in the horizon,
and as sure as this is the Eolus frigate, and
we’ve got to do the best we can with her to
night, there will come a squall from under the
tail of that cloud, direct in-shore.”
“ I expect as much,” said Heartwell. “We
must be prepared. The wind has completely
left us. Have in every bit of canvass. Keep
her head to the squall if possible, and we may
ride it out.”
‘I have my fears,” said the other. “The
Eolus is built for sailing, and sits but lightly on
the water; if a squall took us-broadside, 1
don’t like very well to think what might hap
pen.”
“ We must be prepared,” said Heartwell; “if
tlfe squall come at all, it will come from about
two points there to the southward.”
In less than five minutes, every stitch of can
vass'was taken in; and now it was only by the
opposition of the wash of the sea, that with dif
ficulty the vessel’s head-could be at all kept in
the required direction.
The progress she made was insignificant; and
yet it was ascertained, most probably from
having got into an under current, she was
making a slow and devious progress to the
southward.
“ Well, that’s satisfactory, at any rate,” said
the second lieutenant. “We are getting on, if
it be slow. I would’nt be the captain of this
vessel, and not on board of her to-night, for a
couple of prizes.”
4£ Do you Isnow of our captain ?** oaicl
Heartwell.
Lieutenant Lacy, for such was the name of
the second in command, made a most horrible
wry face, as he replied—
“ I never saw him but once, and I haven’t
heard much of him. What I Have heard, I
don’t much like, so perhaps the least said is
soonest mended.”
“ Certainly,” said Heartwell, “ we have our
duty to perform to our country under all cir
cumstances. Our captain may certainly make
it much pleasanter or much unpleasanter.”
“ Remarkably true that, Mr. Heartwell.”
“ And yet,” added Heartwell, “ I cannot
think it possible that an incompetent man
would have for one moment been appointed to a
vessel like this.”
“I don’t know,” said Laoy; “he may be a
seaman or he may not, there’s one very
suspicious circumstance, and that is, that he is
a family connexion of a lord of the Admiralty ;
and another very suspicious circumstance is,
that’they have made you his first lieutenant.”
“ I can imagine,” said Heartwell, “ that the
first of these occurences might possibly awaken
a suspicion that political influences have more
to do than competency with the apointment;
but as to making me his first lieutenant, I do
not see how that can be made anything suspi
cious.”
“ Don’t you ? then I do.”
“Id what way?”
“ Why, you are to be his dry nujpe, to be
sure; he’ll be down below, most probably, when
anything is to be done, and you’ll be expected to
pretend that he has told you beforehand what
to do while you are doing it all yourself.”
“ Without arrogating to myself,” said
Heartwell, “ any personal praise, I must con
fess I have seen this principle of dry nursing, as
you call it, carried out to some extent in the
navy.”
“ Oh, well, never mind,” said Lacy,“ it comes
to much the same in the end.”
“ And, by Heavens !” said Heartwell, “ here
comes the squall.”
The termination of the black cloud was plain
ly visible; a strange lurid kind of light shot
from under it across the surface of the ocean,
and then the water afar off presented an
appearance of the most violent commotion. A
rushing noise succeeded, and Heartwell had just
time to cry out, in a loud, clear voice—
* Hold on all, for your lives when the ship
appeared to be almost lifted out of the sea,
and so terrific a gale of wind swept over her,
that the tall masts bent like reeds, and several
men were swept from the deck into the sea,
along with a great number bf iron articles, some
of them, too, of a weighty character, which the
gale carried over the vessel’s side.
For about the space of two minutes this
frightful storm of wind continued, and then one
of the masts gave way, toppling over the deck,
bringing with it a mass of cordage and smaller
spars.
Having accomplished this amount of mischief,
the gale ceased as suddenly as it had begun, the
ship righted, and all<was as still and calm as be
fore.
“ Clear away,” shouted Heartwell, “ clear
away I”
Fifty men immediately sprang forward, and
the splintered pieces of the mast was secured,
so as to prevent it doing more mischief.
“ The squall’s over,” said Lacy, “ now for the
hurricane, and if that don’t last all night, I’m
a Dutchman.”
He was right enough in predicting that the
hurricane was about to commence, for scarcely
had the wreck occasioned by the broken masts
been cleared, and an order to launch a boat, in
order at all events to make an effort to save the
men who had been washed overboard half exe
cuted, when the hurricane began in earnest, and
the thoughts of such a thing in the now tem
pestuous sea, had to be abandoned.
The wind for a time then, although blowing
freely, was inconstant, for it varied repeatedly
in the point from whence it came, ranging
from the south-east to as far to the south-west.
By great skill and management, the vessel
was enabled pretty well to run along the coast
without making much way to leeward, so that’
there was a prospect of getting tolerably clear
of danger while the storm continred at its pre
sent height.
The night now became pitchy dark, three of
the best hands in the ship were lashed to the
helm, and nothing more could be done now than
to keep off from the shore as much as possible,
and wish for daylight.
Heartwell had remained upon deck for many
hours, his clothing was saturated with sea
water, and he had not tasted refreshments since
mid-day; under these circumstances, leaving
the command of the deck to Lieutenant Lacy,
he proceeded to his own cabin, when, after
malting some necessary changes in his apparel,
he flung himself upon a couch to catch a few
moments’ repose, for not only was he aware that
the skill and energy of Lieutenant Lacy was
fully equal to any emergency, but he knew that
as a thing of course he would be called if any
thing uncommon threatened to occur.
Exhausted nature speedily sunk into a brief
repose ; but the mind’s energies had been too
strongly called upon to allow of its being pro
found or lasting, and he sprung to his feet again,
with the fear that he had been long
NEW YORK. SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 23, 1847.
from his duty, when, in reality, not halfan hour
had elapsed since he had trod the deck.
The lamp that swung from the cabin ceiling
cast but a dim lustre around it, as it swung to
and fro with the heaving of the vessel through
the surging sea.
After one hurried glance around him he has
tened upon deck, and there he found that, al
though the wind that blew was quite entitled
to be called a hurricane, it was certainly not so
terrific as it had been.
“ Mr. Lacy,” he said, “ I shall keep the deck.
Let me beg that you will turn in and rest.
What’s the time ?”
“ Midnight,” said Lacy. “ You have had a
very short relief. An hour is enough for me at
any time ; I will be up again at the end of that
period.”
“ Nay, make it two, if you please. lam sure
I cannot sleep to night.”
Lieutenant Lacy went down below, leaving
Heartwell on the quartei-deck alone. After a
time he sat down, so as to screen himself from
the wind, and fixing his eyes upon the leaden
colored sky, a feeling of greater inclination to
repose now came over him than he had before
felt when surrounded by all the appliances for
rest in his own cabin.
And yet he could not be said to sleep. In
deee, he fancied that he had all his faculties
al»out him, and he swayed to and fro, with a
dreamy kind of consciousness that he was adapt
ing himself to the motion of tne vessel.
His thoughts then wandered to the shore, and
to the old Gun Tavern at Wapping, where he
had left all that he loved. He thought of that
ancient window, looking on the Thames, at
which he had stood with the beautiful Minna
Woodward—when, without reproach he had
held her to his beating heart, and whispered to
her how dear she was to him. In fancy he could
see her sweet, winning face, and those soft, lus J
trous eyes, into the clear depths of which he had
so often looked entranced.
All these were thoughts of happiness, and al
though now far from her, her image was not the
less distinct in his heart’s inmost shrine. He
loved her with a love surely beyond precedent.
To him she was the star of destiny, the impulse
to honorable deeds, the wreath’ of fame, and
around her were concentrated all the hopes and
all the aspirations of that gallant heart.
Unconsciously to himself, he pronounced her
name, and then, as if its utterance had been an
invocation, he felt the warm blood go back to
his heart with a frightful gush, as, within a few
paces of him, he thought he saw her clearly and
distinctly, as if she had at that moment risen
from the deep.
“ Heartwell, Heartwell, save me I” said the
vision.
He sprang to his feet with a cry of*larm.
The apparition had vanished, and he stood like
one entranced, with the cold drops of mental
agony streaming from his brow.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE APPEARANCE OF AN ENEMY. —TUB EN
GAGEMENT, AND ITS RESULTS. THE
CAPTURE.
The cry of Heartwell was heard by several
of the crew who were near at hand, and they
rushed to the spot where he stood, to ascertain
what was the cause of the alarming sound they
had heard, and one of the gun-room officers
stepped forward, and touching his hat, said, in
a deferential voice—
“ Has anything happened, sir? Wc thought
we heard a cry of alarm.”
For a moment or two Heartwell could not
reply; he was completely spell-bound, and
seemed like one in a dream, and it was not until
the question was repeated, that he could make
any answer to it.
“No —no,” he said —“nothing. You saw
nothing ?” he added, looking round him yet in
doubt.
“No, sir: we saw nothing,” was the reply;
“ but we heard a cry, and thought something
had happened.”
“ No, no—nothing,” said Heartwell. “Go to
your quarters;”
The men obeyed, much wondering what had
been the occasion of the cry they had heard. —
Heartwell was lett alone, and hq paced to and
fro some minutes endeavoring to recall his
senses to himself.
It was many minutes ere lie could compose
himself sufficiently even to think. Some con
fusion seemed to reign in his mind, and when
he could think calmly, he said—
“ It must have been a dream; and yet, how
terrible and real did it seem ! Did I sleep ?
Surely I must, and my thoughts wandered where
my heart is. It must be so. But why I should
have uttered that terrible cry I cannot think;
but I thought Minna cried for aid; yes, cried
for aid. Minna Woodward. Psha I” he said,
trying to dispel the effects of the vision: “it
must have been the excitement produced by the
storm and memory mingled together, that has
caused this trick to .be put upon me—a wild
trick of the imagination, which the hurricane
that is blowing ought to dispel, and chase away.
And yet —and yet I cannot forget those words
—that look. God of Heaven ! if—but, no, no—
she is safe—safe with her mother, at the old
Gnn Dock.”
He increased his pace on the quarter-deck, as
though he would shut out other thoughts—as
though he feared that unwelcome and distorted
imaginings would crowd upon, and make him,
stout-hearted and brave as he was, as weak as a
child.
“ It cannot be otherwise,” he muttered. —
“ She must be—she is safe.”
He continued to pace the dfeck, stopping now
and then to listen to the wash of the waves, and
the creaking and straining of masts and cordage.
The wind still blew a hurricane, but, at the
same time, it had not increased; but still it
raged at a fearful rate across the the channel.
The Eolus, however, yet sped merrily on, with
out a stitch of canvass, going at a fearful rate,
tossed on the ocean, and sailing lightly and
beautifully, like the storm-bird on the white
crested waves.
“ She does, indeed, sail beautifully,” mutter
ed Heartwell to himself, as he felt the ship’s
motion to be free and unrestrained. There
were no heavy, labored motions, such as are
often found in less skilfully constructed vessels.
“ He must, indeed, be a poor seaman, who can
not make something of the Eolus, too. If the
enemy .be not cowardly dogs, we must come to
close quarters, and prizes ought to be plentiful
and good work cut out for us all.”
By this time Lieutenant Lacy came up from
below, to resume authority on deck, and Heart
well now feeling that he, too, required rest,
called to him, saying—
“ As you have returned, Mr. Lacy, I will my
self now turn in. We have been going merrily
enough before the gale, and the shore is yet
distant.”
“ And the wind seems to have decreased a
little,” said Lacy.
“ I am of that opinion, too,” answered Heart
well. “In the morning we shall be better able
to tell what we are to do.”
“ Yes; daylight is the only thing we can now
desire, and that will not be very long before it
begins to make its appearance in the east; and
then the wind may shift, relieving us of storm
and of darkness.”
“ Most true,” said Heartwell; and he turned
while he was speaking, and went below.
Heartwell threw himself upon a couch, and
his thoughts wandered back to the scenes he had
been so very lately a partaker of, at the old Gun
Tavern. There was contained his heart’s best
treasure—his beautiful Minna Woodward.
He thought lie could see her hanging on his
arm as she used to do while he was there. He
thought he could hear her lips pronounce his
name, but it was in an altered tone. He start
ed; but sleep crept insensibly over him, and he
fell into a profound sleep, in which all was for
gotten.
The fatigue he had endured, both of body and
mind, now disposed him to sleep soundly, and
it would have required an effort to arouse him;
and he slept on, little dreaming of the catas
trophe that was being, or had been enacted at
London. He was in blissful ignorance of all
that had been done; and surely, in his case, it
might well be said, “ If ignorance is bliss, ’tis
folly to be wise.”
Oh! could the gallant heart, that beat so
true, always remain in such ignorance, fighting
his country’s battles, and performing those
deeds of heroism and devotion, for which his
only reward was the approving knowledge that
he had done his duty nobly; but, alas! there
was no earthly reward for him, and he had
fought and bled for many, to find no happiness
as his reward for the toil and danger he had
successfully braved.
Heartwell had slept some hours, and when he
awoke he gazed around him, and endeavored to
recall the past. The motion of the vessel, and
the lamp that remained suspended, soon con
vinced him that he was at sea, and throwing off
at once the drowsiness that yet clung about
him, he arose and went on deck to ascertain
how matters stood. Lieutenant Lacy was at
that moment giving some orders to the men,
and when he saw Heartwell, he said—
“l think this hurricane is leaving us; the
wind shifts and is inconstant; besides, yonder
is the sign of coming daylight.”
“ So I perceive, Mr. Lacy,” said Heartwell.
“ It has been a rough encounter for the Eolus;
there are others, I fear, who have not ridden it
out so well as we.”
Indeed, I think not, sir; those who had not
the good fortune to get out to sea, or took early
enough precautions, have, ere this, found out
the depths of the channel.”,
“ I fear so.”
“ Everything, however, is right with us dur
ing the night, and we are fairly out .at sea now.”
“I am glad of it. We may meet with some
thing to do before the morning is over, for
this gale has come from their side of the chan
nel.”
“ I have more than once thought of that,” said
Lacy, “ and it will be welcome intelligence to
the men when they are ordered to clear the
decks.”
Lieutenant Lacy now left the deck, and pro
ceeded to his cabin to finish his night’s repose,
which, as a seaman, he was well satisfied if he
obtained it by instalments.
The morning now broke, and the sun’s rays
were seen to gild the eastern horizon, like a
few golden threads. The heaving of the sea and
the foam of the billows now hiding and now ex
hibiting the rising sun to the view of the sea
men, and spray looking more white, and now
and then the rays would dance upon the waters,
and strike the eye in all their glitter and beauty.
The wind now changed, and they stood fairly
amid channels, rather inclining to the French
coast.
Their duty now became less arduous, and the
whole of the crew had been relieved in turn,
and breakfast had been served out to them,
when there was a cry from the man who kept
the look-out that made the crew strain their
eyes to descry the object.
“ A sail—-a sail!” was the cry.
“ A sail,” said Heartwell, and he looked in
the direction pointed out, when he took the
glass and made a careful examination of the
stranger.
After a few minutes so employed he handed
the glass to Lieutenant Lacy, saying, as he did
so, —
“Tell me what you think of her ? She is, I
believe, a Frenchman, and carries eighteen or.
twentymore guns than we, and she is attended,
a corvette.”
Lacy took an accurate survey of the strange
vessel, and when he had done so he shut up the
glass, saying—
“To my mind she is a French sixty-four at
least, and a corvette in company, and she stands
well out.”
“ She does eo,” said Heartwell; “ and in half
an-hourwe shall be in a better position to judge
of her intentions, and her armament, or I am
mistaken.”
“ She is not likely to run away, I think,” said
Lacy..
“ If she do she will give us a chase,” added
Heartwell.
“ You mean to fight, Mr. Heartwell ?” said
the old sailor, with a look of satisfaction at his
superior in command.
“ Certainly; there is no cause for our declin
ing the fight; the superiority they have is not
a sufficient odds for an excuse to run away.”
“ No, we have done as much before ; and with
such a crew as that which is aboard the Eolus
much may be done.”
“We will bear down upon them, Mr. Lacy,
and try our fortune; if we succeed in capturing
the Frenchman and his companion, as 1 have
no doubt we shall, I expect it will be one good
deed, and the first the Eolus has been engaged
in.”
“ It is her maiden engagement,” said Lacy;
“ and we shall see how she behaves herself. I
would the mast had not toppled over as it did
last night.”
“ That has been, in some measure, remedied,”
said Heartwell; “ but there are enough left to
answer our purpose. The wind veers and is
changeable; but it blows stiffly. Now we shall
have a chance.”
“ Yes, we sail well, and shall have the advan
tage of that,” said Lacy; “ but see, the French
man does not alter his course; he seems to
stand out for us.”
“He does; and he will suffer for his teme
rity,” said Heartwell.
The two lieutenants separated and proceeded
to their duties. Heartwell gave out his orders
Witll pl'Omptiand pi'CCISIOI), WllllO tlie IRCiI,
confidant in his skill and judgment, and their
own courage and prowess, obeyed with alacrity
and g©od will.
The order to clear the decks for action was
received almost with a cheer, and men here and
there were preparing to doff their clothes to
have more freedom of action in their limbs when
the moment of strife should come.
The deck was cleared, and arm-chests were
placed at different places, while muskets, board
ing-pikes, and cutlasses were strewn about
ready for immed’ate use.
The men stood at their guns—every man was
prepared, and every ear strained to catch the
commands of Lieutenant Heartwell. The shot
lay in pyramids by the guns, and powder had
been served out; every gun was well loaded,
and placed in position.
The two vessels neared each other; the
Frenchman stood towards them, coming very
slowly, followed at some short distance by the
corvette. Evidently the intention of the latter
was to creep up and do what mischief it could,
when the Eolus was too much engaged with the
sixty-four, her companion.
The Frenchman had the advantage in weight
and guns, and in the number of men, by a lull
fourth, besides the corvette, which could have
maintained a running fight on its own account.
There was a pause on both sides of some
time as they neared each other, and each minute
seemed an hour, while they all, with breathless
suspense, watched every movement that was
made.
Heartwell addressed the sailors in some few
pithy sentences, such words as such men love
to hear; and he breathed a spirit and courage
into them, that was well expressed by the hearty
cheers when they heard the order given for all
hands to quarters.
The drum beat the tattoo, and a glass of grog
was served out, and was received with much
pleasure, not for the effects it produced, but
because they pledge each other; and it may be
the last glass they may drink with many a ship
mate, who now stood side by side.
They were now scarcely a mile apart, and
there was a breathless silence observed through
out the ship.
The mode in which Lieutenant Heartwell in
tended to fight can be better explained by the
conversation that took place between him and
Lieutenant Lacy ; but we may as well say that
the two French vessels were coming 1 from the
French shore, or rather along it, the sixty-four
a-head of the corvette some quarter of a mile,
while Heartwell had steered the Eolus to meet
the Frenchman upon his larboard quarter.
Things were in this state when Lieutenant
Lacy came to Heartwell as the latter beckoned
to him.
“ Mr Lacy,” he said, “ I need hardly say to
you that the chances of war may place me in a
position that better men have occupied—the
command may devolve upon ”
“ I understand,” said Lacy; “ there’s no
knowing what may happen to you or me.”
“ Neither need I say fight her to the last;
for you are too old and experienced an officer,
and too brave a man to do otherwise.”
“No; I will do so.”
“ Exactly; now see how the two vessels are
sailing.”
“ I do.”
“ Then I shall sail between them, and place
the corvette as quickly as possi
ble, so that I may not be interrupted during our
fight with the other.”
“Exactly, Mr. Heartwell; I comprehend
your plan, and a good one it certainly is, and
will be, I think, successful.”
“We are close in upon the sixty-four,” said
Heartwell, “ and shall have a salute no doubt.”
He was perfectly right. In a few moments
more they came upon the larboard quarter of
the Frenchman, who saluted them with a
whole broadside and a deafening cheer.
The Eolus, however, replied not; every man
stood at his quarters, stern, and awaiting calm
ly the word that should give them the oppor
tunity to reply. They strained their eyes, and
gazed up aloft to see what mischief had been
done, but, beyond a few ropes, nothing had been
hurt.
“ Their guns,” said Heartwell, “might have
been better served, but then it is a first broad
side.”
“ So it is,” said Lacy, “ but when they do hit
anything, it is a chance shot, and that must
happen now and then.”
They now passed the stern of the French
man, and Heartwell gave the word to fire, in a
loud clear tone.
It was then the sailors returned the shout of
the Frenchman with such a clear, hearty cheer,
that it was carried far ©ver the blue waters.
'Phen, and almost simultaneously, a broad sheet
of flame flashed from the larboard side of the
Eolus, and a well directed broadside was
pourced into the stern of the Frenchman, much
to his amazement, for the commander did not
seem to have comprehended Heartwell’s ma
noeuvres. Indeed, he seemed to imagine that
the Eolus had declined the combat, and was
sheering off, intending to make an attack upon
the corvette alone, without saluting them.
The effect of this broadside was strikingly
different from that of the enemy : for, though
they had more guns and heavier mettle, and
had a broader yet their shot scarcely
took any effect beyond cutting a few ropesand
causing a few splinters, while tl e Eolus’s broad
side went clean in the Frenchman’s stern; and
had it not been that he stood higher out of the
water than the former, his decks would have
been completely raked; as it was, great damage
was done, and many men killed and wounded;
and, it was afterwards seen, the machinery con
nected with the wheel was injured, and pre
vented him from wearing round; indeed, for a
short time, he had no command over the vessel
at all.
The Eolus still s-ailed on, but slightly altering
her course, so as to come down starboard to
starboard with the corvette, who had endeavor
ed to manceuvre to get. out of the way, but the
wind was s@ decidedly in favor of the Eolus,
that escape was impossible, and the captain of
the corvette.apparently made up his mind for
the worst, and seemed to depend upon the aid
of the larger vessel, and the chapter of acci
dents ; however, he determined to have the first
fire, but, like his comrades’, it was ineffective,
and, in return, he received such a rattling
broadside from the Eolus, that the deck was
strewed with dead and dying, while it was splin
tered in every direction.
It seemed as though the English shot had
picked out every valuable part; and then again,
before they could recover from the effects of
this, a second broadside was poured in.
This was a fatal one to the corvette, for it
. sunk her. She had several wounds below water
mark, and the ocean poured in from several
shot-holes so rapidly as to defy any hope of
stopping it out, and she speedily began to settle
in the water, while the crew took to their boats
as best they could.
Heartwell, now the smoke had cleared offj
turned his attention to the larger vessel, of
which the commander seemed to think that the
Eolus would escape, and had contrived to wear
his vessel round, and was bearing down upon it.
Heartwell saw him coming, and determined
to wait for him. The French commander ap
peared to ha -r e the hope of being able to prac
tise the same manceuvre that had been used to
wards him, and so come across the stern of the
Eolus and rake her; either from want of skill,
or defective machinery, he could not accom
plish what he intended; for, at the critical
moment, Heartwell just altered his course so as
to place it out of his power to rake him.
The broadside was given, but they were at too
great a distance, and too ill-directed to take any
effect; and as he now came down upon the
Eolus, Heartwell had the advantage of the
wind.
“ Full of blunders, as usual,” said Lacy;
“these Frenchmen don’t seem to understand
the use oi their vessels, but'want them to move
about in a hurry, and then they lose every
chance, and give us plenty; but here he comes,
and now for some steady work for us.”
“ Yes,” remarked Heartwell, “ we now come
to close quarters.”
This was the truth, for the French vessel
now approached broadside to broadside, and be
gan firing as she advanced.
“ Steady,” cried Heartwell, “ be steady, men,
and don’t throw away your shot, but take a cool
and deliberate aim; let every shot tell upon
some part or other, and the victory will soon be
yours.”
A hearty cheer was, the response that was
given to his words, and the men again awaited
calmly the approach of the Frenchman; and he
now came, enveloped in clouds of his own
smoke. He fired at random, and it was a great
doubt if the gunners could tell where they
were firing, especially as there were no flashes
from the Eolus, to show them her whereabouts.
Heartwell stood watching the enemy, and the
progress he was making towards her; and when
he was satisfied with her position, he again gave
out the word to let loose the tide of destruction.
The vessels now gradually neared each other,
and the firing was steady and incessant on both
sides; flash after flash was seen, and peal after
peal of the deafening roar of the cannon were
heard in rapid succession.
The word of command could scarce be heard,
save by the aid of the speaking trumpet, and
the vapor that enveloped each vessel seemed
completely to hide them from each other’s view.
The concussion in the air, caused by the
heavy and constant firing, produced a calm
around them, and the sails hung idly to the
masts.
Heartwell walked over the length of the ves
sel, to see with his own eyes the extent of the
damage his vessel had received, and the amount
of loss he had sustained.
In both cases he found it to be much less than,
from the superior force and power of the
Frenchman, might easily have been expected.
“ Well, Mr. Lacy,” said Heartwell, “ he holds
out; but he hasn’t done us much damage, that
I can perceive.”
“ Very little, considering,” said Lacy; “ and
what is done, is fortunately of a reparable char
acter, and does not even now impede the work
ing of the ship.”
“ I think we are approaching nearer to each
other,” said Heartwell, as he looked up at the
enemy’s masts.
“ Yes, we are,” returned Lacy; “ and there,”
he added, “ there goes one of his masts ; .come,
that’s well done.”
For a few moments, the fire of the enemy
seemed to slacken, and confusion seemed to
reign for a time. The Eolus, however, kept
up the fire, and the two vessels were fast drift
ing together, and a few more minutes would
bring them together.
Heartwell ordered a good look-out to be kept
and to lash the vessels ■ together, to prevent
separation, and then all hands were ordered to
be in readiness to board
“ Now, Mr. Lacy ,” said Heartwell, “ we will
board in two parties from the deck, and you
will command one while I lead the other.”
“ From what point,” inquired Lacy, “ shall
we board ?”
“ That must depend upon circumstances ; but
from the most accessible place that can be
found; and when on the enemy’s deck, we shall
join, and drive them all below, and rhe is
ours.”
“ I see,” said Lacy; “ and here we are, then,
for now are we yard-arm and yard-arm.”
“Then lash them together,” exclaimed Heart
well, “ all hands upon deck.”
The men, however, had not waited for this
order, but had commenced lashing, the vessels,
so as to bring them alongside.
Duringall this time, the vessels continued to
fire at each other with undiminished fury. The
Frenchman had cut away his wounded mast,
and now resumed the fight. The closeness of
the two vessels caused their broadsides to tell
upon each other with destructive effects, and
the decks were streaming with blood, and the
vessels were splintered all over.
The Frenchman had several of his guns use
less, for in more instances than one he had
several of his port-holes knocked into one, and
the guns could not be worked.
The word was given, and with a. loud cheer
the boarding parties rushed towards the enemy,
who crowded their awn decks, for well did they
know that the English would board them now
they came to close quarters.
It was altogether a hand to hand contest now,
and the daring courage of the British now
showed conspicuously, and their resolution and
strength were put to the test, for the decks were
crowded with men, beyond the complement
even of a sixty-four.
The state of the vessel, however, told the
Eolus’s men that the French had suffered very
severely indeed; their deck was wet with blood,
and many dead bodies lay in different places;
indeed, from the number of men they had pre
sented the almost certain mark, and they lay in
heaps.
They now, however, outnumbered the crew
of the Eolus; and yet, the hardy tars hesitated
not a moment; and lull of confidence, and high
courage, they rushed to the attack with such a
hearty soul-inspiring shout, that certainly to
many of the enemy was a death knell; and so
some of them seemed to think it.
Heartwell was the first to jump on the enemy’s
deck, which he accomplished by climbing up
to the bulwarks, and then jumping down. He
was quickly followed by his crew, and within a
minute or two, they executed the same act of
daring at the other e. ; d of the ship.
The affray now became too hot, and too close,
to last very long, whenever there was a direct
collision—a charge or rush of the Brstish—then
the enemy gave way; but they ran to any ele
vated position from winch they could fire down
upon the British, without exposing themselves
to the determined rush of the English sailors.
This annoyance caused the Eolus some loss;
and then Heartwell directed Lieutenant Lacy
to station marksmen in different places, and to
charge up aloft against them.
In these manoeuvres the second lieutenant was
greatly assisted by the top-men of the Eolus,
who, seeing how matters stood, whenever they
could get a view at them, they fired at
them, and this diverted their attention,
and enabled those below to approach with
greater safety; but the two vessels becom
ing so closely engaged, the masts and rig
ging of th# one became mixed with the other,
and they had the hardihood to climb along, un
til they had reached the enemy’s yards, and then
drove them away : so they were soon placed be
tween two fires, and were bravely conquered.
During this, the strife continued below, and
the enemy were gradually driven below, from
one point to another; till, after a desperate re
sistance, and an enormous loss on their side they
surrendered !
The order to stay the firing was giv«n, and
the Frenchman’s flags hauled down ; at that mo
ment the victors gave three hearty cheers for
the victory they had so nobly achieved.
Heartwell had himself disarmed the captain
of his sword in single fight, and he was al
ways where the combat raged thickest and
boldest, hand to hand, he never shrank from any
odds.
The crew were brave and chosen men, and
led by such a man as Heartwell, they were pos
itively invulnerable ; they were irresistible, and
so they proved themselves.
And now the smoke cleared off, they had a
better view of their prize. It was a fine vessel,
though damaged in places; yet it was not of
such serious character as to cause any appre
hensions for its safety, or its ultimate service
and value.
It was a proud moment for Heartwell, stand
ing as he did among his own crew, and a great
portion of the enemy’s, hailed as the victorious
commander of a victorious crew ! Full fairly
had he earned his laurels for never' had com
mander more freely faced an enemy ; and where
help was needed, there was he ; his voice and
example were contagious and an unerring sig
nal for the retirement of the enemy, who could
not withstand the conduct of the men when he
led them.
Nor was Lacy wanting »n this occasion, he
did his part like a brave man, and an able offi
cer ; and none can tell the feeling, with which
men grasp each other’s hands, after such a dead
ly encounter as that in which they had been en
gaged.
“ Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Heart
well,” said Lacy, as he joined him an the deck
of the French vessel.
“ We have achieved a gloriotis result to-day,
Mr. Lacy,” returned Heartwell, holdingout his
hand, at the same time returned the hearty
pressure of his second in command.
“ Will you go to Plymouth with this ?”
“Yes, we shall; and then we shall be re
lieved of our charge and our wounded.”
“ Exactly; I guessed as much.”
“ You, Mr. Lacy, I must beg will take pos
session of this ship, and secure the prisoners in
a proper manner; you shall have as strong a
body of men as I can give you.”
To this arrangement Lacy was well pleased
to accede ; it was a post he coveted, and one, as
he was to be accompanied by the Eolus, he lost
nothing that he might have partaken in, had he
been on board.
With what feelings of pride and triumph did
Heartwell hoist his white sails, and steer for
Plymouth harbor, that being the nearest port he
could run into.
The odds at which he fought had been great.
Not a vestige of the vessel he had sunk remain
ed, save some of the men who had been saved
floating about on some spars and boards.
The weather now appeared mild and genial,
the day was bright and clear, and the wind
was light; and many were the thoughts of
pride and glory the men indulged in, as they
sailed easily along towards Plymouth harbor.
“ Minna,” said Heartwell to himself, as he
paced the deck thoughtfully, and watching the
progress of his prize, as well as admiring its
build—“ Minna will hear of me as I wish to be
heard of—as a victor in my country’s cause.”
Heartwell had received more than one wound
in the affair: but they were light, and in
volved no trouble, nor laid him up. He could
perform his duty just as well as though they
were not.
The night came on again, but it was a very
different one from that which had preceded it.
There were light winds and a calmer ocean,
and the two vessels crowded all sail; yet they
had received damages which crippled them, and
prevented them making such sail as they other
wise could have made.
The night passed quietly enough, and the two
vessels sailed in company. There was no attempt
to retake the vessel by the Frenchmen ahead;
indeed it was not thought of, the Eolus being so
close at hand.
The morning broke, and when the sun had
been some few hours old, Plymouth harbor ap
peared in sight. This was a welcome sight to
many.
The guns of the arsenal and battery fired a
salute, and the whole town turned out to see
the entrance of the Eolus and her prize, and
many a church bell was rung in honor of the
victory.
The vessels now entered the harbor, while
proper authorities were sent for to receive the
prisoners and the charge of the prize; and then
some necessary repairs would have to be made
before proceeding to sea again, but that would
occupy but a few days.
[To be Continued.]
iJarieti).
“The Red above the Green.” —On last
Good Friday the English flag was flying from
the balustrade of Nelson’s pillar—it was the
anniversary of the battle of Copenhagen.
An agreeable sight, no doubt, to th# English
garrison—to the English Archbishop—to the
English Chief Secretary—to the English Poor
Law Commissioner—to all Englishmen who
make out their living her#, and hold the Irish
Capital for the great Northern Austria, called
England.
Not so with others. Thousands passed be
neath the ensign of St. George, and cursed it as
they passed.
The ragged and breadless mechanic from the
Coombe passed by, and, looking up, cursed it
as he passed. The outcast peasant from the
rich fields of Roscommon and of Meath, hurry
ing to the emigrant ship at. Eden quay, passed
by, and, looking up, cursed it as he passed.
Tho broken shopkeeper, whase bankruptcy
was that day placarded on his window shutter,
passed by, and, looking up, eursed'it as he
passed.
And then came the old citizen, who had seen
in his brilliant boyhood the Irish cannon, label
ed with “ Free Trade or speedy Revolution,”
mounted in College Green, aed had stood be
side them, with sword and musket, commission
ed not by the Crown but by the country; he,
too, passed by, and, looking up, cursed the
Union Flag, and went his way.
What was that Flag to them, or the victories
of which it was thecyimeon title page ? What
cared they for the sailor-chief from whose
stately monument it was flying ? True, he had
swept the Italian waters with that flag; had
fixed it on the walls of Bastia; had drubbed the
Spaniard at Cape St. Vincent; had drubbed the
Frenchman at the Nile; had elipped the raven
wing of Denmark under the guns of Cronen
burgh ; yet, what was all this to Ireland ? East
India Companies voted him their thanks in bags
of gold; Turkish Companies their jewelled
swords and massive plate; and London Common
Councils the freedom of their ancient city.
They did well. Horatio Nelson was a generous,
gallant English sailor, and did brave service for
Old England. But what was this, and more
than this, to Ireland ? Was not Sarsfield nearer
to her heart ? and was not Hugh O’Neill her
own heroic son ? and was not the epitaph of
Emmet still unwritten ? and where, in her pub
lic places, were the sculptured recollections of
the old Brigade ?
There was a time when there were other
sights and festivals for the citizens of Dublin.
There was a time when the ladies of our city
went-forth to grace a nobler spectacle than the
poverty of their country—when, from the bal
conies of Dame street, they looked with flushed
and exulting beauty upon the battalions of
Charlemont, and waved their kerchiefs as the
artillery of Napper Tandy echoed through the
city the declarations of Grattan. There was a
time when from the galleries of the Irish Com
mons, they looked down upon the Senators of
the Island, and beholding there its genius, its
chivalry, and its heroism, proudly felt that it
was a noble privilege to be the daughters of
such a land.
And shall they look upon those scenes no
more ? Shall the memory of those scenes be
effaced for ever.’ Shall the anniversaries of
the Island.come, and pass away, without a fes
tival? Shall the solemn feasts and sabbaths be
forgotten in Zion .’
What say you, citizens ! —shall we have no
national holidays,—no national monuments?
Shall these drowsy effigies of the royal fools of
Brunswick be sacred here—and in the public
squares shall we have no enduring testimonials
of our statesmen, our soldiers, and our martyrs ?
What brings that English sailor there, when
the Irish Charlemagne has no monument on his
native soil ? Shall Copenhagen be remembered
here, and Clontarf be forgotten ?
Aye, whilst our municipal government is
without its civic guard—whilst their batteries
and field pieces encumber Irish soil—whilst
the Russian keeps his faith, and the Frenahman
pays his compliments—or whilst Irishmen are
disunited—the victories and the lessons of our
fathers will be forgotten, and the Red will fly
above the Green.— Dublin Nation.
The Three Million Appropriation.
May it be formed into a pension fund for the
widows and orphans of those who have fallen in
the service of their country, and not devoted to
purchase peac# from a defeated foe.
PRICE. THREE CENTS.
The Texan Ranger.—A correspondent of
the Cincinnati Signal, draws a contrast between
the European mounted soldier and the Texan
Ranger, in which an interesting description of
the latter is given
The Texan Ranger, when best mounted, ride,
a horse bred in Texas, from American stock,
combining strength and speed with capability
of enduring the climate. He uses the Mexican
saddle, raised before and behind, the skin of
some wild animal thrown over it, and attached
to it some twenty or thirty thongs of leather,
by which he ties upon it the different articles
he requires for camp use—for but two or three
pack mules are allowed a company, and a man
must carry all his personal baggage himself.
He carries a line of braided leather about thirty
five feet in length, called a “ laretto,” and a
line of the same length, made of twisted horse
hair, called a “ cabaros.” The latter, when
laid upon the ground in a circle, prevents the
approach of snakes or reptiles; as these on
coming in contact with the protruding hair on
its surface, will glide oft' in another direction.
It is thus laid, where the precaution is neces
sary, the space within its surface carefully
looked over—and the Ranger may then rest in
comparative security. The laretto and cabaros
together make a length of seventy feet—which,
with one end attached to the horse, even with
out the other’s being fastened to the ground,
will disincline him from feeding to a great dis
tance away. In the morning he will be found
not farther than half a mile—seldom more than
two hundred yards.
The Ranger prefers buckskin pantaloons, as
these alone can withstand the chapparal; he
wears a hunting shirt and cap of the skin of
some wild animal, which, in the range of the
regiment will assume every variety of shape.
His rifle carries about sixty or seventy to the
pound, and is very long and heavy. He carries
also, a knife—home-made, and with a wooden '
handle—those made from a file are preferred.
Latterly, has been added to his arms a revolving
pistol. His bullet pouch hangs on his right side
with his powder horn. The strap that suspends
these is broadened over the left shoulder, or has
a small pad attached to it to relieve the wear
and pressure of a rifle barrel. Every man is a
practical shot, and it is said that at San Antonio
. once, when Hays wished to impress the Caman
ches with the capacity of his men, man after
man rode round a hat at full speed, at a distance
of twenty yards, shooting into it five bullets in
succession from his revolving pistol. This
seems incredible, but comes from several eye
witnesses.
The Texan Ranger is z picked man, but pick
ed by a far different rule, from that which de
termines who shall be a Horse Guard, for the
Ranger, one may say, picked himself. He left
the older States, not because, as is too often
supposed, he was broken down in reputation or
bankrupt, but because his pride prevented
from living in the inferior position reduced
circumstances would have compelled, or from
natural love of wild and independent life. He
is genial and hospitable—not quarrelsome.—and
of the most reckless and undaunted courage.
He yields obedience because he knows discipline
is necessary to the effectiveness of the corps;
but he considers his commanding officer but a
man like himself, and when off duty is as fami
liar with him as with any private. I speak hert
of the Western Rangers, (Hay’s band.) It is
said the Eastern regiment, (Wood’s band,) is
less orderly—and made up of a less reliable see
of men.
Love’s Labor Lost.—On Monday morning
quite a pretty woman, named Virginia Les
treche, residing in St. Philippe, between
Conde and Levee streets, appeared before Re
corder Genois, and told him a most piteous tale
of unrequited love. It appears that about five
months ago, a dark-eyed, olive-colored man,
named Charles Barteliano, the very impersoni
fication of a chunky cupid cast in an Italian
mould became desperately enamored of the
charms of the fair Virginia. He vowed all aorta
oflove—said that his heart had been pierced—
in fact, perfectly riddled by the arrows that
shot from her eyes—and, throwing himself on
his knees, swore that if she delayed his happi
ness he would either cut his throat or blow his
brains out. With all the tenderness of her sex,
her heart almost melted within her, and to use
the words of her own affidavit, she “ told him
that he might come and stay at her house, but
she wanted to get better acquainted with him
before they could be married.” Transported
with joy, the enamored swain packed up his
duds, and with the speed of a plethoric duck,
flew to the lodgings of the blooming Virginia.
For the first few weeks Virginia says that he
was perfectly devoted to her. A veal-cutlet
was not half so tender, and he took as much
care of her as though she were made of wax or
•pun glass; but, alas! “ a change came o’er tie
spirit of his dream”—in a few weeks her beau
tiful nose, to him, grew into a decided pug;
the tiny freckles on her face were magnified
into broad brown blotches; the roguish dimple
departed from her chin, and the eyes that he
had so worshipped, actually began to have
a cold and cunning look. From askance and
apathy he took to gin-toddies and cold codfish,
and instead of coming home as he was wont to,
with a bounding step and a pocket-full of bon
bons, he frequently entered Virginia’s domicil
with the gait of a rheumatic crab, and a skin
full of an assortment of liquors. On such oc
casions, the gentle pat of endearment that
should have been given to her blushing cheek,
gave place to a rude cuff—and instead of the
honied phrases of love, he used words that
seemed to have been steeped in vinegar. But
she bore it all—she had taken him on trial, and
if she reformed him'she might take him for bet
ter or for worse.
On Sunday evening last, however, the once
tender Charley came home as cross as a bear,
with an abrasion on his caput. He first gave
vent to his anger by expending about a groce
and a half of oaths, for his Virginia’s particular
benefit. An unfortunate wash-basin next met
his wrath, and was dashed into atoms—and
next he armed himself with an axe, and with
the fury of an insane wood-chopper, hacked the
furniture to pieces. Then with an air like him
who “ drew Priam’s curtain at dead of night,”
he approached Virginia’s musquito bar, and
tore it into a thousand fragments. Virginia had
to fly from her own domicil, bearing with her,
as a memento of conjugal happiness untramelled
by laws of church or state, an eye clad in the
color of a widow’s weeds. Barteliano, her once
beloved, was on Monday arrested and locked up
for his good behavior—and so endeth the drama
of “ Taking a husband on trial.” — Delta.
Gen. Taylor and Profane Language.—
The Picayune sticks up for the truth, the whole
truth, and nothing but the trnth of the anec
dote which made General Taylor sing out
“ Hurrah,” and tell the Kentuckians to give
Santa Anna “ hell,” at Buena Vista. The story
was at first contradicted in Cincinnati, and the
following is the characteristic way in which
Bullitt reasserts it in the Picayune :
There is not a man in the army who has been
near General Taylor in moments of great peril,
who does notrecognize something characteristic
in the terms employed. In peace there is no
man more dignified in his deportment, more
frank in his manners, or more candid in speech
than General Taylor. His heart is as gentle as
courage can make it, and his language as direct
as honesty. But no man ever yet was capable
of great deeds who was not subject to the ex
citement of a crisis. With genius it becomes
inspiration, and under its influence the shortest
word is the best, and a “ damn” is briefer than
wit. It is a paltry affectation in any one who
knows the General, to pretend to be shocked at
what was related of him at Buena Vista. It is
a mere sham for the benefit of puritanical souls
who do their damning after a more canonical
formulary than is generally used on battle fields.
“ By the Eternal,” in Jackson’s mouth, ceased
to be a month ; and those who denounce as pro
fanity a burst of feeling, in any language, called
forth by deeds which decide the fate of armies,
would criticise the oath which bound the
covenants between Abraham and God.
The anecdote narrated in this paper was pub
lished because it was true; because it was
characteristic; because it helped to show how
fearful were the crises which continually oc
curred during the battle. The words came out
of General Taylor’s mouth, and were no doubt
as acceptable to Heaven as the roaring of the
cannon which belched forth death and strewed
the earth with slaughter. We put no words
into General Taylor’s mouth.
A Wife Wanted.—Once a month or so, som*
anxious and excited greenhorn advertises for a
wife in the Sun. The last effort of this kind is
uncommonly rich in stupid impudence, as thus:
grj- The advertiser is a young man from the
country ; has all the experience of young men
of the city, with none of their vices, but poor.
Believing that there are young ladies in this
city possessing means enough to give the adver
tiser a start in the world, I present myself a
candidate for the highest bidder. Should pre
fer a woman not over 24 years of age, or over
five feet five inches high, with a full well round
ed form, regular features alive to all the emo
tions of the heart.
Nothing less than health, beauty and sensi
bility will answer.