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P. B. CONN, PUBLISHER ' COEITER MARKET ASH 4TH Z.RAGANfEditor and Proprietor. . r " 1 ' - rrrr " " ' ' ; Watch, Watch, Mother. tT'l Mbtl if f atentne little feet , tV'-r ?: .Climbing o'er the garden vail, Bounding through the busy street, Ranging cellar, aheo and hall, L'Never count the moments lost, 7' V'Wvttt wind the time it costs. .'.. Little feet will go astray, ' v. a -Xiuide them, mother, while you may. Mother t watch, the little hand, ' 'Picking berries by the way, i-r Making houses in the sand, rJ Tosaiug "P lne f'Kr"1 hay, Never dare the question ask, . " Why tP. .Pi this weary tank I" , l' These same little hands may prove f Messengers of light und love. Mother! watch the little tongue, Prattling eloquent and wild, JU What is said, and what is sung, t By thy happy, joyous child. Catch the word whilst yet unspoken, ' ' Stop the vow before 'tis broken ; ' - ' This game tongue may yet proclaim "Blessings in a Savior's name. Mother ! watch the liltlo heart , Breathing soft and warm for yon ; t 'Wholesome lessons now impart; Keep, 0 keep that yoang heart true, ' Extricating every weed, x Sowing good and precious seed ; " Harvest rich you then may see, ; Ripening for eternity. Prom the Waverley Magazine. THE FOUNDLING; OR LEAVES FROM MEMORY'S TABLETS. BY CLARA ACGTJSTA. CONCLUDKD.J After a protracted absence she return ed, apparently highly elated. Rosalie ' plied ber needle nervously, and her heart beat quick and fast. ' "What do you think, Euphrasia 7" said Mrs. St." Eustace, "there is ft man below who wishes to tako Rosalie to live with him away in the country, somewhere J and he says he wil pay mc for what expense ' her work has not compensated for. Now, what had I best do 7 Mr. St. Eustace al lows me to do with servants as I choose ; and Rosalie is such a fretful, crying thing, ,and besides," she added, approaching closo to her sister, "you know how im mensely interested Reginald was in her ; ' and she i handsome, and almost fourteen!' "Let her eo, by all means, Harriet ; pauvre enfant ! she will be better off, and . Reginald will not quii us so unmercifully about her.'' . Rosalie wept for joy, when Mrs. St. Eustace told her to put on hor best gown ' and bonnet and prepare to leave the house forever,' In a few moments she was rea dy, and seated in the pretty chaise with Mr. Ellsworth, who patted her kindly on ihe bead, and called her 'daughter' so tenderly that she bowed her head upon his Karm and wept unrestrainedly. "Poor little girl said Mr. Ellsworth, drawing her closer to him, "do not weep ; " I will bo a father to you, and I am carry ing you to one who will be your mother; and you shall go to school, and play with ( the girls, and whenever you wish to ride, tho chaise and white pony are at your ser vice." , Rosalio's eyes spoke the thanks her lips wore powerless to utter. Never, in her ( whole life, had she been so happy as t through that long, sunshiny day, while riding along with tho kind old farmer, close to the deep, winding river, and in view of tho green-hilled pastures, where the brown oxen and spotted cows stood lazily browsing the luxuriant herbogo. i llnsonhisticatcd little Rosalio ! this was a riovol spectacle to her, and good farmer ' Ellsworth's big heart was full of joy, as ho witnessed her delight at a flock of snow white ducks paddling in a clear pool by v the wayside! - , Rosalio'i brichtest dreams were realized, when they came in sight of a brown cot- tago tarm-nouse witu its rod sneas, ana y the white inartio-houflo ou tho long barn, and tho mow-decked woll-curb with its long, picturesque 'sweep,', and the iden tical "old oaken bucket," (as Rosalie '-thoWht'i attached. -While. flocks of tiny speckled chickens canio flying to meet thorn, and a little white kitten caruo pur ring around Rosalie, as Mr. Ellsworth lift J bur from the chaise. The ine-wrcath- t.h house' ononcd. and a mat- )M V" 1 mnlv woman hastened forward "Thia lady will bo ' your mother, my dear," Baid Mr. Ellsworth, leading Rosa. , i;A twnrA W In' a moment the little 1 wanderer was folded in the- great, soft 2 tnothcrly arms, and a warm kiss was press- nn ir Hushed ences. n'i WttW faimial, $ttet& to iincncan" Interests; literature JSacncc, anir nothing left to ask for. Ofteu has she told rue of that scene, while the tears of joy moistened her eyes, and flushed ber glowing cheeks. : She was led into the house by her new mother, and there, ou the pretty chiutz lounge by the window, sat Rcgiuald St. Eustace, smiling in the blessed conscious ncs8 of having done a good action my friend, the fecliue that we have soft-! ivu. V", ened the thorns on tho pathway of some one, smoothed the cares from some suffer-1 ing brow, or made some opressed heart to sing with joy oh 'tis better than aught else tho world can give ! 'Tis the effluence of tho smile of an approving God, and I would not exchange it for the incense of the whole world ! But I am (waudcring ; pardon me, and I will return. "Well, my gentle Rosalie, have you no word for me 7" asked Reginald playfully, drawing her to a seat, by his side, and re moving her coarse bonnet. "J)o you like the country as well as ever, and did you see the green trees and birds that you used to dream about ?" "Oh ! Mr. St. Eustace," she exclaim ed, "I never was so happy, uo not even iti my dreams I Ah ! sir, is it uot a delight ful thing to be happy 7" "It is, indeed, my child," murmured St. Eustace, as he gazed almost sadly into the radiant face of the happy girl ; und he sighed as he thought of his own isolated cxisteuce ; though admired and flattered by all, yet alone in spirit ; and travelling on through life in louclincss of heart ! A pretty little chamber close to that of Mr. and Mrs JMIsworth was appropriated to Rosalie, and a clean bed, with nice cool sheets, and such a spotless white counter painc j and then, the musliu curtains, and the fragrant sweet briar that almost veiled the window : and then, without, the spreading waters of the silvery river, with the willows bending so lovingly over it, and the tall blue mountains beyond all, all seemed like enchantment to Rosalie, and she threw her arms around Mrs. Ells worth's neck, and asked again and again if it were not a dream 7 St. Eustace left that evening, saying he would come again soon; and as he bid Rosalie 'good bye tears trembled on her dark lashes as she said, "God-bless you, sir ; you do not know how lull of iov vou have made me." When Reginald St. Eustace laid his head on the pillow in the little village tav ern, he too dreamed and loving eyes were smiling upon him, and that low, sweet voice murmured, God bless you ! Thus was Rosalie Moreton brought among us, and so trusting and confiding was her whole nature, that ere she had been an inmate of Farmer Ellsworth's cottage one week, she had gained the heart of every maiden in the vicinity. My fath er's dwelling was next that of Mr. Ells worth, and Rosalie and I were soon warm friends. Sweet girl 1 it was an inexpress ible pleasure to love her. How many times has she laid hor head on my breast, and in the calm twilight told me all her wild 'yearnings to be loved, and then in el oqucut earnestness she would speak of the great goodness of Reginald St. Eustace, and implore the blessings of Heaven upon him. Ah ! gentle Rosalie, early did thy friend read the secret of thy soul ; yes, young as thou wast thy heart had been given to the keeping of another marked! In all the neighborhood there was not a lovelier maiden than Rosalio Ellsworth, as she was now called, and her adopted pa rents loved her almost to distraction. All the little treasures which had belonged to their lost daughter were given to hor, and she regarded every article, however trifling, as a gem of inestimable worth. There was uot in the school a single pu pil who learned so readily as Rosalie, and in one year from tho time she came among us, she entered the highest English class in tho Village Academy. Thcro she gain ed the warmest affections of all ; even the difinifled old professor's melancholy phiz, brightened when listening to Rosalio'i re citations of amo, atnat, amat, Jcc. Reginald St. Eustace came occasionally to the cottage Fann-IIouse, sud his visits wero holidays to tho happy Rosalio. Sho would sing him her sweetest songs, and play on the guitar which had been Mary Ellsworth's, and deHghtedly toll him how far sho had advanced in her studies ; and then, th worthy report ef her behavior was shown ; and lleginaW was phased to observe that, thrwagaoat, 'perfect,' was tho word writtenu. When I first looked upon Reginald St. Eustace, I felt no wonder that my gentle friend shoaid love hiui. A nobler looking man 1 W never seen. . Ho inspired me at once with a fceliug of admiration, such as I rarely feel for any human being. Time rolled on.1 When Rosalio was seventeen, she graduated at Prof. Stilliog ton's AcadjcnWwith the full honors of the Institution. Ahout this time, our aged . STEUBENVILLE, OllMVEDNESDAY, pastor died, and then came to our village n pale, intellectual looking young man, who was to supply his place in the sacred desk, and in the heart of his people. Er nest Do Vcrrian was one well calculated for the hallowed calling he had chosen. Words of the most glowing eloquence fell I . ,. ,1 . ,rom ' ' "nu ,us oarK P,ere,nS Je8 seemed lit with a fire from on hich. No wonder that the affections of his people clung to him with a magnetic tenacity, that not even the foul shafts of slander could have severed. He had not been long with us, before it was whispered that the young clergyman had taken a deep in terest in Rosalie Ellsworth ; and on Ul made free to assert that the lovely bachelor-parsonage would not be long without a mistrccs. Reginald camo less frequently to the cottage,, but the young pastor be came a constant visitor. One day Rosalie camo to mc, and asked me to walk with her, saying she had some thing to communicate to me. I fancied that her check was paler, and her tone less buoyant than usual, but I made no re marks on it, and we walked on in silence, until we reached the deep dell below the cascade, known as the 'Haunted Dell.' 1 sat down, in silence, and Ro3alic threw herself down on tbo mossy scat beside me, and burying her face in my dress, she ex claimed, "Oh, Clara, I have never been so wretch ed since I left my city prison, as I am at this moment 1" I knew how ineffectual it is to attempt to console grief with words, so I only drew her closer toward me, and wept in sympathy. It was a lorg, long time be fore she raised her head, and then she said, looking fixedly into my face "Ernest De Verrian loves me has off ered me his hand in marriage.'- I mani fested no surprise, and she went on, "He is good and noble, and I respctt and es teem him, oh ! to much. I am almost en raptured with his eloquence, but Itdo uot feci that deep, quiet affection which I have so often dreamed of bestowing on the be ing I should take to my heart, and call by the holy name of husband. I cannot ac count for it, but I feci the most unuttera ble aversion to becoming his !" "Then why accept him 7" I asked calm- ly. "Alas, my friend, I have no other course left. Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth desire it, and I can refuse nothing they ask. I vowed before high Heaven, when they took mc from a living tomb to their home, to their confidence and love, that if, in af ter years, they should require anything of me, be the sacrifice ever so great, it should bo done. Tho time has now come: Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth love Ernest De Verrian as their own son, and they have informed ine of their desire that I should become his wife, I fed warm gratitude toward Mr. Do Verrian, for condescending to offer himself to ono whoso birth is wrapped in obscurity; one who may, perchance, be tho offspring of sin and shame ! In three short weeks, so they have arranged it, 1 am to become Mrs. Do Vcrrian. Oh 1 there is agony bitter, burning agony in the thought 1 I shall make him an un loving wife 1 My very soul rebels at the idea of being hit wife it seems a sin, a crime ; but becauso I realize how much purer and holier he is than I perhaps alasl I kaaw not what to attribute it to." Ah I gentle Rosalie, in a few words the reason could have been told, thou lovest Reginald St. Eustace. All was preparation at the littlo cottage farm-house. Mr. Do Verrian looked radi ant with happiness a deeper color flush ed his checks, uud a brighter light shone in his lustrous eyes. It was plain to see that ho almost idolised his fiancte ; his eyes followed her full of love, and when he addressed her, his voico sunk to the low, thrilling cadence- of tenderness. Tho wealth of Mr. De Verrian warrant ed tho splendor which was to celebrate tlio joyous event, and the old furm-houso bloom ed like a palace under tho costly decora tions. Rosalie moved about pale as a spectre,, and her wandering eyes told to me plainly the tale of her sufferingi By others this unnatural calmness, this dread dispair, was deemed ouly the natural so berness arising from the realization of the responsibility sho was so soon to take upon herself, as tho wife of our Village Pastor. Tucsdaj before tho Sabbath appointed for the wedding, Reginald camo by invita tion to the cottage, to remain until after the marriage. I stood by Rosalie's side when he came forward to greet her. A deep shade of sadness sat ou his brow, and his check was pale and wan. My heart leaped wildly, for the thought flash ed across my miud, for the first time, that the all-absorbing passion of Rosalie was returned ! Calmly and courteously he ex tcuded his congratulations, aud calmly were they received ; not a ncrvo trembled, not a sigh broke from either proud heart. Since the preparations for the wedding had commenced, I had been most of the time at the cottage. Rosalie did uot wish mc to leave her; and, when at night thc lay in my arms and wept until the dawn ; I earnestly prayed God to avert the im pending destruction. One delightful evening tho gentlemen were walking in the grove behind the house, and Rosalie and I sat ou the piazza, in tho clear, cold moonlight. She drew from her bosom the locket found upon her at the time of her abandonment, and touching the spring she held it toward me and ask ed, "Do you sec any rcscthblatioe between this miniature and myself?" "Why, Rosalie," I replied, "have I not often told you that it is an excellent likeness of you, as you will appear some fiftceu or twenty years hence 7 The lady, Rosalie, must have been your mother." At this moment the gentlemen approach cd ; "Well ladies," said Mr. De Yarrian, gaily, advancing to the side of Rosalie, "what are vou disputing about, now '. a miniature as I live I really, I don't know but I shall be a little jealous if you do not favor mc with a view." Rosalie sighed Badly, and held it towards him as she said "It was found upon mc when an infant.' One look Do Verrian cast upou it, and he staggered back against a pillar, pale as ashes 1 "Merciful Heavens I Rosalio," he ex claimed, "for the love of God tell me quickly how you came by this 7" "You ars aware, I believe, Mr. De Ver rian, that I am a foundling that I was left at tho door of a dwelling in the city of B., when an infant, ulonc and desolate,' replied Rosalie, and there was a tone of sarcasm in her voice; "this locket, sir, was in tho box in whio h I was laid." "How long ago was this?" eagerly de manded Do Vcrrian. "Nearly eighteen years ago, sir; it was lat in tho mouth of December, 18 " Do Vcrrian sprang forward and caught her eagerly in his arms. "My own blessed, lost sister ! Oh, Ro salie, if I havo lost a wife, I have gained a tmter ! God in Heaven bo praised, for directing mc hither!" and tho usually calm Do Verrian wept freely. Iu Rosalie's face I read joy, rapturous joy, as hor eyes, full of unutterablo love, wero raised to Do Verrian's. But the deep speaking thankfulness that passed over Reginald's face,' I phall never forget. Then I felt convinced that he loved her, When Do Vcrrian was sufficiency cou posed, he sat down, with an arm aiwid his new-found sister's waist, as if he fear ed to lose her ; and replied to the eager questions which were poured in upon him from all sides. "To begin at the beginning. My father, our father, Rosalie, was of French extrac tion, though American born. He married a beautiful American girl, of whom that likeness is an excellent resemblance. In the fair city- of New Orleans my father purchased a handsome establishment, and located himself in tho 'Queen City of the South !' Two children were given him ; a son und daughter. Both woro idolized, but Blanche, as the younger was culled, vctuj loved too well. In tho family w.s a Creole womau who officiated in tho capaci ty of nurse. Sho was cruel and viudic tivo when roused to anger, but, iu the main, sho was obedient and respectful. To her, my little sister Blanche was somd times entrusted, when it became necessary for my mother to leavo her. Cassanna, that was tho Creole's name, bcoaiuo seri ously offended with my mother for remon strating with her for Sabbath breaking,' but her anger to all appearance, passed JIM.,,18, 1855, quickly away, and the circumstance was forgotten by all. OnC evening my mother, at the urgent request of my father, ac companied him to a lecture, givtin by a gentleman of world-wido celebrity ; I went with my parents, and Blancho Was left at lomc in the care of Cassanna. Whetl my parents returned home, both Cassanna and the infant were gone; none knew whether 1 Oh the agony, the wretchedness of those be reaved ones 1 I will pass it over. Suffice it to say, that the lost infant was sought for in the city, but in vain, no such child had been seen. In a neighboring shipping town it was said that a woman answering to the description of Cassanna had taken passage for Havre, with an infant. My father followed her to Havre, in the next steamer, only to asertain, to his sorrow and disappointment, that instead of Cassanna, she was the wife of a French peasant, and had been visiting her friends in New Or leans. Three lrng years my father spen t in searching for his lost child ! At the end of that time he returned home to die! In four short months I was fatherless ! My mother's delicate frame sunk under its weight of affliction, and ere the frosts of another winter had fallen, she slept by my father's side, in the grassy churchyard. By her death-couch I vowed to consecrate myself to God; and to the good of my fellow men. Oh ! bow I have yearned for sister's lovel I have besought God night and day to give hie back my lost Blanche 1 Oh 1 my sister I now I know why I felt my soul gushed forth in love toward you, tho first time I beheld you. If not my wife, darling, JoU are my own precious sister, Blanche 1" and he pressed her again and again to his breast. Ah ! my friend, that was a happy even ing to us all. At night, when we retired to rest, I missed Rosalie from my side, and I waited not for her return, for I felt that she was with Reginald St. Eustace. In the morning, when I awoke, Rosalie lay by my side, and as I met her wakeful eyes, she laid her head blushingly on my I , II .1 . T VII Hi 15 arm, ana toia mc mac uegmaia cc. Eus tace had said ho loved her. Had cherish ed her imago in his inmost soul since the morning ho had seen her bending over flowers, fit emblems of her own innocence, in her prison home. What moro he told her I know not, for she would confide iu ine no further ; but from smiles and blush es, I inferred that she had not left him hopeless. With the consent of all parties, it was decided that Reginald St. Eustace and Blanche De Vcrriau should bo unitod, on the day which had been appointed for the nuptials of Ernest and Rosalie. It was even so, and two happier beings than Rosalie, or Blanche, as sho is now called, and Reginald, I havo never seen. But little remains to be told. St. Eustace purchased a lovely villa closo to tho old fann-houso, where his lovely wife had lived so happily, aud tlw noble Do Verrian became an. inmato of their family. A word of huphrasia. oho is still in tho enjoyment of sinlo blossodnoss, but there is a wealthy old widower whom she hopes to win, and all her dresses arc made with deference to his taste. Carlyon St. Eustace is in College, but he spends his vacations with 'Uncle Reg inald and Aunt Blancho,' and his stately mother is quite anxious to cultivate the ulms-house menial. And now, my friend, I havo done. We can do no better thaw to draw the curtain of silence oatsb alieir happiness ; and thank the Great Giver of good for tho benefits bestowed ou his unworthy children. A So(,kmn Question. Shall female vanity be-gratified, while so many arc star ving? Women, it is for you to say.. Will you expend such enormous sums in outside adornment, in princely festivities, in costly trifles, while- the wail of tha despouding ooor noes un to HcavcnZ Wo ask the question, how will you answer, it here, and at that tribunal where you will bo one uay callod to account forysur course- in life? God help you to answer it aright. The groat object of man's stu.ly are bis own nature and destiny, and the nature and providonco of God. e study out ward nature partly to improvo our condi tion : bevond this temporary purpose. It is interesting chiefly for the light which it throws on. wj char,actcr and purposes ol God..- , General Intelligence, A Story of Golf I Revolvers. We tako the following fctbry from the Soulh Brituh Ador.ititer of May 28th, forwarded to us by a friend in Sandport. Itis Worth reading. An Irishman, formerly well known as one of the choicest spirits in Trinity Col lege, Dublin, but who, owing to the diltp (dated fortunes of his ancient family, expa triated himself some few year's siuce, oud entered tho Turkish army, wrote a letter or rather a journal addressed to a friend, about a year since, of which the following is an extract.' It may suffice to state that he was engaged in the Turkish campaign in Asia, and during a acvore engagement, was wounded on the heights of Basch-Kad-ik-Lar. After having described the hor rors of the field and his narrow escapes in two or three skirmishes, he gave the de tail of his sufferings for a day and two nights, during which he lay exposed among the slain and wounded on the field of bat tle. The story of the manner of his es cape from two plunderers, or camp follow crs, by means of a revolving pistol is so curious that we make no apology for ex trading a somewhat lengthy passage. We commence the narrative, about the middle of the journal : All had for a long time been silent, save occasionally a groan from some poor creature wounded like mc, per- aps dying, and the howling of the wolves from the forest skirting the field of battle pretty sort of wake for a decent Chris tian Turk, and worse by distaflcejij 1 Can tell you, mY dear , than Pat Hotla- Ws grandmother s screeches the iiight we entered her cabin on the moor after the famous day's snip shooting, when they laid biin out as they said, "so dacant, wid the plate oa his chest, the spalpeen." Well, to return from this digression, I felt how fortunate It was that 1 lay so near the mid dle of the plain a sort of centre dish you see since otherwise I would hav6 been torn by some savage beast or other, before any one would have been likely to inquire into the precise zoological nature of my de- cease. 1 Knew very wen tne next morning would be rescued, as I could see that tho iussians were retiring, tneir nres uewg ... .i f i all out this night, aud I had just said to myself, "Jack, it is all right, you will be ensv and comfortable with your limb ele gantly bandaged to-morrow, and I actual tried to whistle 'The Bells of Shandon,' and "Rorv O'More," and one or two other tunes to keen up my spirits. It was rath- a or a failuro both in execution ad iuten tion, I will own. And now far adescrip tion which our old friend Charley Lever might do justice Iov Otoa leafless tree mo sat sis or seven huge birds of prey, gorged with their horrible repast. I knew they were not likely to touch nic whilst I remained living I cunnot add ively ; but I suddenly saw a figure flittin to ahd fro, like the ghost of my aunt and occasionally stooping as if engaged in some office of mercy, and thereby now ajid then lost among tho broken- grwps of men, horses, &e., heaped jwn the plain, and now and then emerging into tho blight igkt of the moon, as it came forth from behind the dark masses of clouds that oc casionally obscured that tcrriblo landscape. -What is it?" says I. Presently, I be came aware of the existence of four or fivo figures similarly employed. At ono time thought they wero women, and then priests administering consolation and aid. I thought of tho Spanish stor'u s poor Ma- . . i 1 . . 11 . T I jor Atk no usea w ten us. i uw thero wero mouks ui Asia, though I could not tnli where those eajua- fsouu. Then all kinds of strango thoughts of ghostand vampires, tho vory creations of the coun try I was in, supgestod themselves to my imagination.. I gazed until I could gaze no longer at their formes, which seemed hardly to approach nearer, und at length contemplating a silvery halo wound the moon which, gut me in. uiiui of tho Cove of Cork and Lucy M' -, tho darling. I might have coutinucd thus about half-an hour, when a sound caused mo to turn round, and I beheld a sight that filled mc with horror. A fiuuro like ono of the witches in Macbeth was stooping over and grappling with the wounded Russian gen eral, who lay some ten paces distant from. me. I could hear every breath and move ment tif the pair as the vctctaa struggled I with, lis fiendish assailant. There was u PER A NNUf IN VARIABLY IN ADVANCE, , VOLUME L NUMBER 28 fearful stillness about that deed ; for the victim httcred not a word, probably in dis- dairl of his fate. At length" he succeeded in holding off ber skinny and ensanguined1 arms, and while. doing so uttered a few ' words in Russian which I could not under- tarid. Fiuding her task difficult, she gav6 i hiss like a serpen t ahd presently a malo confederate, looking like Burke or Hare clothed tor an Adelphi melodrama, such as I have seen iu Loudon, stole to her as sistance and deliberately 'passed V long knife into the bosom of the hapless Rus sian. I heard ' the sound of itt and tifo low deep grcraii that followed. Vainly fea'i I endeavored to shout, in order to scare these fiends from their prey; but ray tonguo clave to tho roof of my mouth. I wag like one under a nightmare. Suddenly tlref moon dived beneath a cloud. When it came out again, the spoilers of the fiield of death had finished plundering the Rus sian general, whoso white hair, livid fea" tures, and stanling eye-balls I could plain ly sec, and were engaged in dividiug or se curing tho booty. The glittering eyes of the wrinkled Zingan, for such she was theu turned upon me. It was evident from their expression that my turn was at hand. A tumult of thoughts agitated my breast. To die thus, after escaninflr wit If a a life from the events of the week I . It was horrible. Already I felt the clutch of those bird-like fingers at ray throat. Already I fancied that the butcher-like knife, red from a hundred murders, and warm from the old general's sidcj slowly passed into my broast. I could offer tio resistance. My left arm was broken my ancle twist ed my strength utterly gone. I raised myself partly up, as with hideous deliber ation, the pair cautiously approached, one on each side. What would I have giycu at that moment to be heading a "forlorn' hope;" to be struggling with the break ers as when lately wrecked on the stormy Caspian ; to be standing opposite the best saw-Imudlo shot in the county of Galway y to be hob-nobbing over my father's claret in my grandfather's house, 'with the black guard attorney who ruined us all; to be listening to the unmistakable refusal to marry me of the only gifl I loved, or to be arrested by .i dirty tailor on tho eve of a steeple chose, in which I was tho favour ite gentleman rider. Don't fancy that I thought of all theso things at that' time, though 1 never thought so much in a year t I did in those few moments. The ugly Jewish features of the man approached mo with the fascination of a serpent. I twist ed myself around to meet tho still moro fiendish glance of the woman. They near ed me. The clutch of the hag is already at my throat. The knife of the man is upraised. Suddenly tho cords of speech wero loosened, and I screamed screamed like a borsc in tho agony of a battle-field. I shall never forget the sound of my own voioe the unearthly cry. Tho monsters drew back, but 1$ was only to look at each other, and iudulgc in a chucklo of ghastly merriment. At that instant I thought of something with my right hand I drew forth my Colt's revolver. I remembered distinctly, during the instant it took to' pluck it forth, all the incidents of the two1 days previous each time I had fired it,' and that there were two charges left wheu1 I was shot down from my horse. To1 snatch it forthto cock it to level it to pull the trigger was the work of a second. v Down went the mau, a filthy corpse upon the ground. I remember seeing the shad owy forms of tho obscene birds grouped cropful iu ihe solitary tree near me lazily ' extend their,- wings, a hh.0- sharfl. neporiti rang out. Tho hag fled a lilf-a-dozen pa-, ccs, like a startled ghoul ; but she was bur-, dened with spoil, and her fpot caugbtr agalust the very corpse of him, whptn, slip, had at last, assisted, ip murder.' Before, she could riso, I had covered her with my 1 istol. One ! two 1 three I. "Sho hits it I V I cried.. But it was tmt .fated, that' bIio should enjoy the privilqc of instant death. ' She fell, wounded and crippled Her moans" and maledictions wdre horrible. I had, struck her, I believe, in. the hip 'joint, ' At icngin, l conoeiveu ice iota oi uraggtng myself from that appalling vicinity j' fof these. tw.o wxotohos hoAmade the accu'stom od, bights- and sounds, of the battle-Gold faV miliar and endurablo by comparison witb CONCLUDEPN fOURTU jpAOK . ' "