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VOLUME 2. NO. 25. <HI)c ouni»ftD UKspcitd), IS PUBLISHED EVERY SUNDAY MORNING, AT NO. 41 ANN STREET, NEW YORK, By Williamson & Burns, » And delivered to subscribers in the City, Brooklyn, "VVilliamsburgh and Jersey City, at the rate of one shil ling ror month, by regukr and faithful carriers. Por- * sons who wish to receive paper regularly should send their names to the oflic Those who depend upon newsboys are apt to ba disappointed, especially in stormy weather. TO ADVERTISERS. A limited amount of advertisements will be inserted upon the following terms ONE SQUARE (OF SIXTEEN 1.1NE9,) One Time, - - - - SI 00 I Three Months, - - - $5 00 ' One M*nth, - - - -200 Six Months, - - - - 900 '1 wo Months, - - - 350 | One Year, 16 00 Longer or shorter advertisements at the same rates. All orders must be addressed, post paid and enclosing amount of subscription, to WILLIAMSON & BURNS, Publishers of “ The Universe/’ 41 Ann Street, New York. 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.