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Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1861-1863, March 29, 1863, Image 7

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[Written for the Sunday Dispatch.!
“ANACREON.”
A LOTS soxa.
By Kate B. T.
The perfumes 6T tho violets are shedding on the
S%e dew is on the leaves my love, and the bright
young night is fair. .
Heaven's azure covering, star bedecked, is spread
all o’er the land ;
Then while tho night-birds trill their songs, let’s
wander hand in hand.
I know a place whose mossy couch rests near a
purling stream,
Where branches thick with emerald leaves, ad
mits a scarce moonbeam;
And the zephyrs whisper lullaby while the pas
sions wake from rest;
And the clover heads are wantoning and waiting
to be prest.
I know a place where thou and I, and lore may
sit together,
Ahd twine bright garlands all th® day for lore,
and for each other;
And drink deep draughts of joy from eyes that
know no other bliss
Than but to close in weariness at passion’s fbnd
„ eat kiss.
Then come ere yet the early moon has soared to
Heaven’s height;
Ere that the flower cups shut their breasts and
bid the stars good-night;
While amorous zephyrs idly toy with blade, and
leaf, and tree;
Then let mo give thee all my heart, and give thou
thine to me.
©emo close—aye, closer to this breast; thy love
need feel no chill;
Ttie heart that throbs against mine own, awakens
raptures thrill.
And I will rain warm kisses down on lips, on
cheek and brow.
They talk of Heaven ’yond the skies, I’ve Heaven
with me now.
And give me all thy heart my own; its dearest
wish be mine;
And whisper in thy dulcet tones—thine ever, only
thine.
Nor eharry thou of sweetest sighs; no breeze
from spicy south
Brought never fragrance in its breath as the fra
grance of thy mouth.
And sweep thy lashes ’gainst my cheek; ’twill
feed it to a flame ;
The blood that riots through these veins seems
all alike to tame;
And let thy drooping tresses fall around my cir
cling arms,
There’s nought that all this world contains can
match thy matchless charms.
Were all the treasures of the deep upheaved to
meet my hand,
The riches mine to grasp that lies in fabled eas
tern land,
Each grain of sand a grain of gold that’s driven
by the sea, •
’Tis but" a feather’s weight when weighed in love’s
own scales with thee.
Then give me all thy heart, my own, and I will
give thee mine.
And whisper in thy dulcet tones—thine ever, only
thine!
And kiss my lips to crimson, love; I’ll give them
back again;
A»d let Platonics sneer at love, who never knew
the name.
abiOrham.
THE STORY OF AN ORPHAN GIRL.
BY H.VRSkRKT BLOUNT.
CHAPTER YI.
Miss Landell was by no means a person to
let the grass grow under her feet. When she
had once determined on any line of action, she
lost no time in forming her ranks, and getting
her weapons ready for attack. Consequently
the very next morning, while the Squire sat
comfortably over his paper at the breakfast
table, she begged his attention for one moment,
in a tone of voice that implied there ought to
be no delay in complying with her request.
Nothing is much more provoking than to be
required to lay down a morning paper to listen
to anything foreign to its news. The Squire
fumed and fretted a little, but Miss Landell
had a habit of going into tantrums, when she
fancied herself slighted or neglected, and he
remembered it just in time. So he laid th®
paper paper aside, pushed his spectacles up on
his forehead with a short grunt of dissatisfac
tion, and asked what she wanted.
1 ‘ I want to speak to you about Frederick,
papa,” she said, composedly sipping her tea.
“Eh —what? What has he been doing?
And, by the way, where is he ?”
“ I am sure I can’t say, papa.”
“ Half-past eight, and not down to break
fast ! Bad habit—very—must be checked.
Hate to see young people so lazy.”
He rang the bell violently. A servant made
his appearance.
“ Go up to Mr. Frederick’s room, John, and
say that breakfast is ready, and that I am wait
ing for him.”
The man left the room, but returned in
about five minutes to say that Mr. Frederick
■was not in his chamber—in fact, that he was
not in the house. None of the servants had
geen him that morning.
The Squire began to growl inwardly as the
man retreated. Miss Landell stirred her tea.
“Bad plan—bad plan!” muttered the Squire.
“ Can't have this sort of thiug going on in my
house. That young chap must be regular in
his hours and at his meals, or I’ll know the
reason why.”
‘ ‘ Frederick is never very regular about any
thing now, papa," said his fair daughter, with
a. slight smile.
“What do you mean by that? He is al
ways in early of an evening!,’
“Yes, I know ; but half the time when you
are away from home he is neither here at din
ner nor at tea.”
“ Where does he go ?”
“ I only found that out yesterday, myself;
and I think it my duty to tell you at once. He
joes to Chamley Cottage! ’ ’
The Squire looked puzzled.
‘ ‘ What the deuce can he want there ? There
are no boys at Chamley Cottage ?’ ’
“No, papa, but there is a girl I”
“That slender slip of a thing with the yel
low hair ? Why, she is only twelve years
old!”
“ Good gracious, papa ! You forget that
time does not stand still with the young any
more than with the old! That slip of a thing
is nearer sixteen than ten; and she is quite a
good looking girl, into the bargain !”
“ Blessme, Clara ! You don’t mean to tell
me that Frederick is dangling after tire girls
already ! A stupid little lad like him, who
was only set free from the master’s rod at
school a few months ago ?”
“ Frederick is a very handsome youth, papa,
and I think the young lady sees it as well as
any one ; and you know yourself how very
romantic he is. ”
“Godbless me! What fools boys are!”
said the Squire, nibbing his bald head rue
fully.
Miss Landell burst out laughing.
“It is well that girls are so wise, papa, and
that yon have two daughters to one son !”
“Yes, you may laugh, but you didn’t begip
to bother me so early as this ! How long has
this stupid affair being going on ?”
“Ever since we came, I fancy, for yester
day our picnic party met them out on the moor
“Together?”
“ Yes ; they were going nutting—or some
thing of the kind.”
“How very improper! ’ ’
. “So I thought. Really that old housekeep
er ought to know better than to let the girl go
wandering about the county with our Fred ia
the way she does. You must know that she
sings well, and some of the gentlemen heard
her, and brought her down to the party.
Ghe sang there, and Mrs. Walters took her
home in her carriage. Master Freddy was as
sulky as a calf about it; and I dare say he has
gone to the cottage this morniug, instead of
■eating his breakfast, to accuse her of the crime
she committed yesterday.”
. “ Very likely. What a bother it is to have
a son, after he gets out of his first jacket and
trowsers ! I say, Clara, what am Ito do?”
“That depends. If you want the young lady
to become ymfli daughter-in-law "
“Good gracious!”
“You have only to let Fred stay here.”
‘ ‘ But who is this girl ?”
Miss Landell shrugged her shoulders, and
helped herself to a slice of toast.
“ Leroy brought her down, did he not ?”
“I believe so.”
• “You women are generally very quick in
getting at the root of such things—have you
never heard anything about her ?”
“ I may have heard something, but perhaps
there is no truth in it. It is rather a delicate
subject ”
“I see. Yes, you are quite right, my dear
■Clara, and we must stop it at any price of pre-
sent discomfort to the boy,” said the Squire,
locking displeased and thoughtful.
Miss Clara smiled in her sleeve at her wor
thy father's simplicity. There is nothing more
easy than to make any one believe something
to the disadvantage of a third person. A word
—a look—a shake of the head—a shrug of the
shoulders—they are invested in the listener*s
mind with half or the whole of the crimes that
are on or off the decalogue. Considering how
fast and how inconsiderately most people talk,
and how easy it is, by these means, to take a
character away, every one has cause, at times,
to bless their stars that they have a shred, of
reputation left.
Without uttering a single word, Miss Lan
dell had impressed upon her father’s mind the
film conviction that Aurelia was the daughter
of Mr.- Leroy, but not his legitimate daughter.
The child herself was, of course, rather to be
pitied than blamed, but it was extremely dis
tasteful to him to think that his only son and
heir should have formed an intimate friend
ship with a girl so situated. There was no
need of another word to confirm him in his
purpose. While that thought remained he
would be like adamant to Aurelia’s beauty,
grace and genius, and Frederick’s heartfelt
sorrow at the thought of giving her Up. They
must be separated at once and for ever. That
fiat, as unalterable as the laws of the Medes
and Persians, had gone forth, from the mo
ment, in his mind.
Knowing this as well as possible, Miss Lan
dell felt quite safe in making a proposition re
lative to the matter.
“The girl has been well educated, and is
perfectly well behaved, I am told,” she said,
as she pushed back her chair. “A little im
prudent, perhaps, about Frederick : but what
can you expect from a child like that, who has
never seen anything of the world ? It is the
housekeeper's fault—not hers.”
“ Quite true, my dear.”
“And she certainly sings well. Shall you
send Frederick away, papa ?”
“ Immediately, my dear. I shall pack him
off to Oxford the first of next week ; and before
he comes home again I hope Mr. Leroy will
have taken this young person away.”
“No doubt he will. I believe she is to go
on the stage, or something of the kind, when
she is a little older,” said Clara, making a most
unconscious prophecy. ‘ l l should really like
you to hear her sing, papa. I think I will ask
her to come up next Friday,when Mrs. Walter
dines here. She took to her amazingly at the
picnic party yesterday.”
The Squire demurred.
“ Is it wise, Clara, or prudent, to throw her
iu Fred’s way, just as we are going to get rid
or him for her sake ?' ’
“ Dear papa, you know as well I, that Fred
is as obstinate as a mule!”
“ I am afraid you are right, my dear.”
“Well, if he fancies fora moment that we
are sending him out of her wsy, wild horses
will not drag him to Oxford. But if we seem
to humor him—if we ask her here, and treat
her kindly—he will go off like a lamb, think
ing she will be a. protege of mine while he is
away. And as he is already most absurdly jeal
ous of her if she looks at any one else for an
instant, that will be no small consideration
with him, I can assure you. ’ ’
“Well, perhaps you aie right, my deaix.
Women always manage these things better
than men. I confess my way would be to send
for the boy, give him a sound lecture, and pack
him off to Oxford, without letting him get
a glimpse of the young hussy, who is likely
to set us all by the ears befere we have done
with her.”
“She will indeed .do that, if you attempt
any such exercise of authority,” said Clara,
looking very serious. “ And if you sent Fred
off in that Way, he would be back by the very
next train, and persuade her to elope with him,
or some such folly. They are both quite ca
pable of it, if they are not properly managed.
Now read your paper in peace, and I will go
and settle this question at once.”
She gave him the Times again, and going in
to the drawing-room opened her elegant writ
ing-desk, and selecting a sheet of rose-colored
paper and an envelope to match, penned a
neat little missive, which she dispatched, ten
minutes later, by the hands of a liveried ser
vant to Chamley Cottage. Then she went to
practice anew fantasia, smiling to herself all
the time as she played.
She was quite right in her suggestion as to
her brother’s whereabouts. He had risen with
with the first gleam of light, and hurried to
Charnley Cottage, where, after what seemed to
him an unreasonably long delay,Mrs. Marshall
herself admitted him, and heard his tale. The
old lady blessed herself, and looked on him
with sincere admiration, as he stamped up and
down the little parlor, mingling threats against
Captain Grey, and outpourings of love for Au
relia, in one and the same breath. Mrs. Mar
shall was intensely sentimental herself, though
she was not aware of the fact. She would cry for
hours together over “ The Children of the Ab
bey,” or “The Farm er of Inglewood Forest;”
and the youthful attachment that was budding
and blooming under her very eyes, was to her
the most beautiful thing on earth. So it did
not take long, to persuade her that the only
proper thing for her to do was to go and awake
Aurelia, and send her down to her impa
tient lover. She did so; and as that young
lady happened to be very sleepy after her
long day’s walk, she was as cross as two sticks
at being roused, and went down into the parlor
with a face that would have sent a less ardent
suitor out of the house as soon as possible. But
Frederick was too much in earnest just then to
heed any one’s black looks. He had taken Cap
tain Grey’s admiring compliments for far more
than they were worth, and visions of that gal
lant officer in full regimentals had haunted
him all through the long hours of the weary
night. He had made his appearance at that
unearthly hour, simply to “get ahead” as
the Americans say, of his rival—little dream
ing that if Venus herself just risen from the
sea, had been awaiting the Captain’s visit, he
would not have stirred from his comfortable
lodgings till he had eaten a hearty breakfast,
smoked a good cigar, read his morning paper
and adorned his handsome person to the best
advantage and hjs heart’s content. One can
not always be seventeen; and though men
and women may be quite as susceptible to the
tender passion when twenty-five or thirty years
have rolled over their heads, they certainly
take the-disease in a much more rational form,
and do not.forgct to see that they have a good
dinner in the height of their most violent par
oxysms of devotion.
Frederick had come aimed with a thousand
reproaches and complaints ; but one glance at
his lady love silenced him. Perhaps it was
because she looked most undeniably cross and
Sulky that his tongue was tied. At all events
he could only falter out. “ Oh, Beley, how
could you be so unkind ?’ ’
His very gentleness disarmed her—made
her ashamed of herself, and drove the sulky
glance from her beautiful eyes.
“ Well,, it was a shame!” she said, apolo
getically ; “ and you may beat me if you like,
dear Fred, and I will promise never to do so
any more. But in the meantime, as you have
brought me down stairs so early, you must
just get my breakfast for me !”
They both laughed, and good fellowship
was rcstoredoastantly. Mrs. Marshall laid
the cloth, and Aurelia get the tea-things out,
and Frederick found himself whdre he had
fancied the Captain would be —kneeling at
Aurelia’s feet —but it was only to toast some
thin slices of bacon for breakfast, before the
fire. Never was a meal made ready with more
good will. They laughed all the time they
were preparing, and all the time they were
eating it; and as Frederick told the agony he
had suffered during the previous night, and
ate toast and bacon the while, they all laughed
again. Aurelia’s misdemeanors were most
certainly forgiven and forgotten, for that time
at least.
Soon after the servant had cleared the break
fast-things away, she brought in the note from
the Hall. Frederick took it, and very uncere
moniously opened it. The next moment he
uttered a shout of joy.
“Head! Look!” he said, thrusting the
paper into Aurelia’s hand. “It is to you—
from Clara, my sister. Isn’tshe a trump ?”
Somewhat bewildered, Aurelia read out the
invitation:
“Dbah Miss Gresham :
“ I have said so much to my father about your
beautiful voice, that he is very anxious to hear
it. Will you join our dinner-party on Friday’
Your friend, Mrs. Walters, will be here, and we
will all do our best (Frederick included) to make
you happy and comfortable.
“ Your sincere friend,
“ Claba Landell.”
Yes, Clara was ‘‘ a trump. ’ ’ There could be
but one opinion about that among them all.
CHAPTER VII.
It seemed to Aurelia that Friday would
never come. But at last, after an infinite
deal of wishing, hoping and fearing, the event
ful hour arrived, and she set off for the Hall,
under the care of Mrs. Marshall, who was
SUNDAY DISPATCH, MARCH 29, 1863.
almost as elated at the thought of the visit as
her youthful charge.
Frederick was waiting at the door to receive
them. Aurelia had never seen him in dinner
dress before, and she was enraptured with the
effect his best jacket and fawn-colored vest
produced.
“I never saw anything so pretty as that
blue tie of yours, Fred,” she remarked, as she
came down the stairs again, after Mrs. Mar
shall had removed her cloak and smoothed
her long curls.
“Don't talk abcut blue ties, you angel!"
he replied, seizing her hand. “Come and
let nle show you to my father, and ask him if
he ever saw any one half so pretty before.”
He led her into the drawing-roem. The
Squire sat there alone, reading, while he
awaited the arrival of his company and his
daughter. He frowned when he saw the
young couple enter arm-in-arm, but luckily
no one was there, and Aurelia’s sweet face and
timid, wistful look found the way to his heart
at once.
“ What a shame she is not a lady by birth,
so that Fred could please himself,” was the
only thought he had as he greeted her. And,
in consequence, his welcome was so kind, that
Aurelia felt herself at home with him at once.
In a few minutes Miss Landell entered, look
ing lovely, in a pale blue silk, with blonde falls.
Pearls were on her neck and arms—a single
white rose in the abundant braids of her hair.
She gave Aurelia one sharp searching glance,
that took in every article of her apparel from
bead to foot. The girl had never looked so
well in all her life before. She wore a full
white lace skirt, looped up at either side with
a cluster of forget-me-nots—a wreath of the
same blossoms crowned her yellow curls; and
a slendergold chain and turquoise heart around
her neck, harmonized well with the color of the
flowers. ~
“ Wild Arab though she is, she knows well
how to dress, and is therefore the more dan
gerous, and the sooner to be got rid of,” thought
Miss Landell as she shook hands with her most
graciously, and then resigned her to Frederick,
with a meaning smile. Aurelia felt uncomfor
table, she knew not why. Miss Landell had
the peculiar gift of making her feel herself
clownish, awkward, and out of place, even
when she was most kind. The dinner party
was rather a solemn affair, and Aurelia could
not feel quite at ease, with one footman at her
side to change her plates, and another exactly
opposite, whose unmoved stare seemed to take
special cognizance of every mouthful she swal
lowed. She was heartily glad when the meal
was at an end, and the ladies rose to go. Fred
erickfollowed them at once. His presence dis
composed his sister a little. It had been her
purpose during that lazy time, before the gen
tlemen came up, to cross-question Aurelia so
thoroughly about her early life, that there
would be no need of further information from
any source. When Frederick appeared, that
scheme was at once frustrated. But in the
housekeeper’s room, her «wn maid was sitting
with Mrs. Marshall, and the good cheer of the
servants’ hall would assuredly loosen that lady’s
tongue, so it mattered but little after all.
None of the ladies cared to play during the
absence of the gentlemen, but Aurelia sat down
to the piano gladly, at the request of her host
ess, and began to sing a little German pastoral,
while Frederick Rung over her. enraptured, and
turned the leaves of the book. Her voice reach
ed the party in the dining-room. They glanced
at each other in surprise, and then with one
accord deserted the wine, that they might hear
it ■better. When Aurelia rose from the piano,
she was a little astonished at the increase in
her audience—the more so, that in one corner
of the room stood Captain Grey, hat in hand,
talking to Miss Landell, who, in spite of her
attempts to look pleased, had the faintest pos
sible cloud upon her brow.
It was certainly very provoking. She had
arranged this dinner party with an express, view
to the Captain’s absence. Understanding from
him that he was about to attend a sale of h orses
in London, she had invited Aurelia to the
house, her father might see her without
any feat of unconscious rivalry on her part.
But the sale of horses had been put off—so the
Captain assured her in his sweetest voice; and
having no other engagement that evening, he
had taken the liberty of calling and bringing
some new songs for her to try. Would she
forgive him for intruding, an uninvited, per
haps an unwelcome guest, upon her and her
friends ? And was he to go, a banished man—
or would she, of her own gracious clemency,
allow him to remain ?
So prayed the Captain, with the smile which
had won many afair lady’s heart playing round
his lips, and his pleading eyes fixed earnestly
on her own. She felt that he was not honest
with her. She fancied that his accidental call
was a premeditated one, and that in some way
or another he had ascertained Aurelia was
there. Then the music. When had he ever
brought songs for her to try before ? He did
not like to hear her sing, although he feigned
raptures now and then, when she appealed to
his judgment, after executing one of his favor
ite songs. Why should he be bitten with a
mania for hearing her now, and, above all
things, when a voice like Aurelia’s was within
six feet of him ? . •
“ Pray make no excuses for joining us in this
unceremonious way,” she said, suavely. “We
are only too happy to secure you by any good
fortune.” ’ >
“ Then why didn’t you invite me ?” thought
the Captain ; but he only bowed low, and said
that ghe did him far too much honor.
“But have you dined?” she asked.
“ Oh, yes, an hour ago, at the mess.”
‘‘ Then you are just in time for a cup of tea;
and when you have taken it, Miss Gresham, I
dare say, will be kind enough to try the new
songs with you. I have a bad cold, and can
not sing. Picnic parties do not agree with me,
I fear.”
Thus encouraged, the Captain ventured, after
his fair hostess had left him, to hand Aurelia a
cup of tea, and eventually to seat himself by
her side. The young lady was rather shy at
first, remembering Frederick’s fit of heroics ;
but when the new songs were mentioned, the
artiste's instinct awoke within her, and she was
all eagerness at once. Frederick, entering the
room at that moment, stopped suddenly and
stared aghast. But his sister was beside him,
and drew him behind a friendly curtain to un
dergo a short catechism.
“Fred, have you seen Captain Grey since
Tuesday ?’ ’
“Yes, confound him!” was the sulky re
ply-
“ Well, don’t be cross. I will put an end
to that sort of amusement in a little while.
Tell me when you saw him ?’ ’
“ On Wednesday morning.”
“Was he going to town then to buy a
horse ?”
“ Not that I know of.”
“ Where was he ?”
“ At Chamley!”
“ Who was he with ?”
“Lieutenant Howard. Ttiey were riding,
and they stopped to speak t”ne.”
“ Did you say anything about this dinner
party?”
Fred considered a moment.
“No, I did not. But George Walters was
with me, and I heard him telling Howard he
could not join him on Friday, because he was
engaged here, to hear an angel sing. They
were both laughing at the idea.”
“Then, Captain Grey overheard them,
too ?”
“ Of course.”
“Well, you have only George Walters to
thank for all the pain you may feel this eve
ning. She sings well, Fred, but she is an ar
rant flirt.”
“ Nonsense!■”
“ Look at her now !”
Frederick looked, and ground his teeth.
The Captain was leading Aurelia to the piano,
and she was smiling and blushing at something
he had whispered in her ear.
“ Confound him 1 I wish I was a man, and
I would call him out ! What business has he
to behave like that ? It is neither treating
you nor me well, and I 11 be shot if I stand
it!”
“ Never mind me, Fred ; I can take care of
myself,” said Miss Landell, with a slight smile.
“But let me give you one caution. Aurelia is
very pretty and very graceful, and she sings
magnificently ; but don’t set your heart upon
her too much. She is very young to be so
greatly pleased with attention. If she is a
flirt, Fred, she will make your heart ache
worse before you have done with her. Watch
her well before you love her too dearly. You
will forgive vour sister for saying so much,
when you knbw that it is only for your own
good and happiness that she speaks.”
She raised the curtain, and went smiling out
among her guests as she spoke. But the work
she had chosen to do was well begun.
If Captain Grey had ridden over from Charn
ley purposely to hear Miss Landell’s voice, he
certainly showed great forbearance in not press
ing her too much to oblige him. He did say
to her once, “Will you not join Miss Gresham
in this?” holding up at the same time a sonata
which she could no more have sung at sight
than she could have flown; but when she
declined he said no more and busied him
self during the remainder of the evening
with banging over Aurelia's chair, and try
ing first this piece and then that, at first to
the amusement, but at last to the disgust, of
the rest of the company. People who have
hobbies, like people who have beloved profes
sions, are generally great bores .to their neigh
bors. Writers herd in groups, and criticise the
last new novels; actors discuss the manage
ment of theatres, and the good and bad quali
ties of their brothers and sisters by the score ;
and people who neither hold pens nor go be
hind the scenes, listen yawningly, and think
within their, own hearts what intolerable nuis •
ances they are. But, at least, one can dimly
guess their meaning. They have no particular
professional jargon by which to puzzle the un
initiated. On the contrary, when artists or
musicians begin to talk of what concerns them
most, those who know nothing of “ tones” or
‘ ‘ movements’ ’ must remain for ever in the
dark. The artists, however, only talk, but the
musicians play and sing. Things which to
most people are mere senseless and often dis
cordant assemblages of sound, without tune, or
time, or rhyme, or reason, to recommend them
to the ear—they are musical to those who un
derstand them ; but who can wonder that the
masses, hearing only a crash, a jingle, a scat
tering of high notes, and a growling of low
ones, get tired at last, and wish devoutly that
there was no such thing as a science of melody
in the world ?
On this occasion, the Squire fretted, and his
elder guests fumed; and Frederick glared at
every one from the corner to which he had be
taken himself; and Miss Landell smiled. Still
the offending pair sang on. Aurelia was quite
unconscious of the breach in good manners she
was committing, nor could the Captain remem
ber it till, looking up in his search after ano
ther song, the perfect silence of the room
struck him. A wicked smile came into his
I eyes.
“By Jove !we have done it now!” he mur
mured to himself; and, breaking up the little
musical party, within the next ten minutes he
took George Walters by the arm and sauntered
over to.where Miss Landell was sitting. She
receivedihim very quietly, but very graciously,
and he fancied that his peace was made. From
that time the conversation grew general, and
the guests enjoyed the latter much more than
they had done the earlier part of the visit.
By twelve o’clock every one had gone, for
they kept early hours at Charley. Frederick
did not offer io see Aurelia safely home. He
only watched to see rhat the Captain was not
with her, and then rushed away to his own
room, without even saying “Good night” to
her. -She went home quite contentedly, how
ever, telling Mrs. Marshall about the songs,
(she did not say a word about the Captain,)
and slept as soundly as if a second set of up
braiding and despairing reproaches were not
awaiting her on the morrow.
Miss Landell also went to her own room,
looking somewhat more tired and somewhat
less beautiful than usual. Her maid was wait
ing there, and evidently bursting with some
important piece of news. Not one word, how
ever, did her young mistress speak—not one
encouraging glance did she give her. So Mar
tin brushed away at the brown hair in silence,
efid thought what a contrary and provoking
head it covered.
Not till all her work was done did Miss Lan
dell vouchsafe to open her lips. Then, just as
Martin was curtseying a good night, she said,
sharply;
“Did you see that woman from the Cottage
to-night?”
“ Yes, miss. I spent the whole evening with
her in Mrs. Hewitt’s room.”
“Did she talk?”
“ All the time, miss.”
“ About the girl ?”
“Not at first. She seemed very cautious
when she came. But when we had supper,
and I got out the bottle of wine you gave me,
it seemed to loosen her tongue.’.’
“ Yes. It all came out then, I suppose ?”
“Every bit, miss.”
“ And who is the girl?”
“ Not Mi. Leroy’s daughter, miss—nor any
ielation to him.”
“What then ?’ ’ asked her mistress, looking
interested.
“Only a girl that he brought from London
one -cold winter night, just about' Christmas
time. He found her singing ballads in the
street, with nothing to eat, and hardly a rag
to her back, and no home to go to. So, be
muse she had such a beautiful voice, he adopt
ed her, and has kept her ever since. Mrs.
Marshall says she was such an object when she
came down here—and only look at her to
night!” . ■
“ Yes—a beautiful voice will work wonders
somei'mes,” said Miss Landell, musingly.
“ She was from Whitechapel, miss.”
“ Indeed ! Well, I want nothing more now,
and you may go) Good night, and thank you,
Martin.”
The girl left the room. But long after the
small hours began to strike, Miss Landell was
tossing restlessly to and fro upon the pillow.
“From Whitechapel!” she said, aloud, as
the day began to break. “I th J nk her native
air would be best for her. I’ll see if I cannot
get her back theie."
And then she fell into a sound, sweet sleep.
CHARTER VIII.
Frederick’s vigils were not much shorter
than his sister’s, but they brought about a
more immediate, and, apparently, a more im
portant result. He came down to breakfast,
looking pale and ill; and when the meal was
over, requested a private interview with, his
father. The Squire expected to hear some
tale of youthful debts or youthful follies ; but,
to his great surprise, Frederick asked his per
mission to leave home —to go to college, and
that at once.
The Squire could hardly believe his ears.
They had been scheming artfully to get the
lad out of the way, and there he was, propos
ing of his own accord to go, and eager to turn
his back upon his enchantress and his home.
What could it all mean? He gave him an
uncertain answer, and bolted off to find his
daughter, who was quietly breakfasting in her
own room, over coffee, French rolls, and a
French novel. She did not seem so much sur
prised at his news as he had expected she
would be.
“I see it all,” she observed. “He is hit
much harder than we thought, and he is im
patient of the pain. He does not know how
to bear it. Let him go, by all means. Have
his trunks packed, and get him off before he
has time to change his mind, as he will if he
gets but one small glimpse of her.”
“You think it is safe, then—best—to send
him away!”
“. Of course. Take my word for it, if he
goes in this frame of mind, we shall have no
more trouble with him. He will get over this
folly by himself, and veiy speedily, I fancy.”
“Well, I suppose you know best,” said the
Squire, looking sorely perplexed and puzzled,
as he returned to the study, where Frederick
was pacing up and down like a caged lion.
So it was settled without any more words,
and the Hall was a scene of bustie and confu
sion during the remainder of the day. There
were a thousand things to see to, a thousand
messages and orders to give, and Frederick hur
ried to and fro, congratulating himself on hav
ing no time to bother his head about “that
girl at the Cottage.” No doubt the Captain
was Ihere with her, making fierce love, and
hearing her sing his favorite songs. Well, lei
him. But at least they should not make a fool
of him, and then laugh at his folly together.
He would show Aurelia that he was not quite
so tightly bound to her chariot-wheels as she
fancied ; that if she stretched the chain too
far, or drew it back too close, he could and
would break away and find his liberty again.
He was young, and vain, and foolish—a
mere good-tempered, good-looking puppy of a
college boy ; and he had no idea what a cruel
thing he was doing with such unconcern. He
did not mean to stay away from Aurelia very
long. He had to go to college—and it might
as well be sooner or later—but his hurried de
parture was only meant as a punishment for
her flirtation with Captain Grey, and, all tire
while (though he vowed to himself as he
packed up his books, that he never wanted to
see her face again,) he knew very well that the
least word, or sign, or look from her would
bring him to her feet again, a pleased and will
ing captive. In the meantime, till she said
that word, or made that sign, he would play a
little at being indifferent, and see how that
suited her.
When people go deliberately to work to do
cruel and unkind things, they forget that they
have not the ordering of events in their own
hands. They may make the wound, but how
can they be sure that they will be allowed to
heal it again ?—they may shoot the poisoned
arrow, but how do they know if theirs is to be
the hand to draw it out ? For fear of these un
toward events, it is better for every one to be
as kind as they can toward those with whom
their lot is cast. For a kindness done, they
need never ask forgiveness—need never make
I amends ; and a kindness is the one thing they
need never regret when they stand beside a
new-made grave.
It so happened that Aurelia, on that day,
forsook her usual out-door haunts. She was
lying on the sofa, with a violent headache, all
the afternoon,and Mrs. Marshall fully employed
in waiting on her. Consequently, neither of
them had any opportunity of learning the
movements at the Hall. .
At four P. M. Frederick relented a very little
from his severe determination, and strolled
down toward the Cottage, thinking that, by
chance, he might see Aurelia, and watch her
face when he told her that he was going away.
By the changes of that most expressive coun
tenance he would shape his future course.
But his good resolutions were in vain. N o
Aurelia appeared ; and after waiting and watch
ing for the better part of an hour, he went
back to the house in a worse temper than ever,
and finding the carriage waiting to take him to
the station, made his adieux hastily, and was
off and away. The Squire accompanied him,
grumbling about the night-journey all the
way. But long before midnight his inarticu
late growlings ceased, and they were both
sleeping comfortably in a West End hotel.
The next day Frederick’s name was entered
upon the books of Merton College, and he was
a schoolboy no longer.
So Aurelia had lost her lover without being
aware of it. During the day after his depart
ure, she still kept her room, but on the third
morning, as she was looking at the fading
flowers in her garden, and wondering why
Frederick did not come down to see her, Cap
tain Grey rode by on his beautiful black horse,
and seeing her, very naturally stopped for a
little chat. He had just been calling 0.1 Miss
Landell, and some observation of hets, joined
to bis own suspicions, had made bun pretty
well aware of the state of the case. But as
the ladye love was still ignorant of the true
knight’s flight, it became his duty to break the
news to her. He did so as gently as possible,
and was rewarded for his pains by seeing every
vestige of color forsake her cheeks, and her
eyes turn toward him with a wild unbelieving
look.
“Gone! Frederick gone!” she exclaimed.
“ It is impossible !”
“Nevertheless, it is true!” affirmed the
Captain.
“ But he never told me—never came to say
good-bye!”
“Perhapshe may have written.”
She flew into the bouse, but returned in a
moment, crestfallen and unhappy. No letter
or message had been sent, nor did anyone
within doors know that he bad gone.
“What doesit mean, Captain Grey ?” she
said, pitifully. “ Can you explain it ?”’
He might have said that be was equally at a
loss with her, but he was a good-n .fared sort
of fellow, and her pale, scared face made his
heart ache. So he said, in the .most simple
brotherly kind of away :
“ My dear Miss Gresham, I can only think
of one reason, and perhaps you will accuse me
of vanity if 1 tell it you.”
“ Oh, no, I will not.”
“I will. then. I fancy that the young gen
tleman did me the honor to be jealous of me,
because you were kind enough to sing and to
talk to me when I had the pleasure of meeting
you the other night. ’ ’
“Oh, yes!” cried Aurelia, very candidly.
“■Fred was jealous of you from the day of the
picnic party. He was so angry about that!”
“ Exactly. And he has gone off in a fresh
huff because you gave me half an hour’s pleas
ure the other evening. I got a note from him
this morning, dated from London, in which he
relieves his mind a little by giving me his
opinion of my conduct. One would think I
had taken you off to Gretna Green, to read
that letter. Do you remember Byron’s poem
about the waltz?”
“ Yes.”
“ He quotes that byway of ending the pre
cious epistle. What is it ?
“ ‘ SI:, she’s yours. From die rose rou have brushed the
sof t dew,
From the grape you have shaken the delicate blue ;
What you’ve touched you may take—
Pretty Weltzer, adieul’
I don’t know that I have quoted correctly. It
is a long time since I had Byron at mv fingers’
ends, as he has now. But that will give you
an idea of the state of the young gentleman's
mind.”
“What a shame !” said Aurelia.
And her cheek burnt hotly.
“Yes; but he will get over that, and do
both you aad me justice later on. Where are
you going now ? ’
“To see Miss Landell. She may have a let
ter o’’ a message for me.”
The demon of mischief prompted the Cap
tain to encourage this scheme.
“ Go, by all theans,” he said. “ I dare say
she can tell you more about it all than I can.
But donlFget disheartened, whatever happens.
We shall have many a pleasant song yet when
this little trouble is well over, I hope.”
“ Good-bye !” said Aurelia, scarcely hearing
what he said in her eagerness to be gone.
The black horse galloped away, and sire put
on her hat and cloak and went up to the Hall.
The Squire had not yet returned from Oxford.
Miss Landell was sitting in the drawing-room
alone, writing a letter. She looked up'with a
cold stare as Aurelia was ushered in by a ser
vant, and neither rose to receive her, nor asked
her to sit down.
“I beg your pardon for intruding,” stam
mered the poor girl, “bat I have just heard
that Frederick has gone away to college. Is
it true?”
“ Perfectly true,” said Miss Landell;.with the
severest coffiposure. ‘' My brother left home
the day before yesterday.”
“ And never came to say good-bye to me,”
said Aurelia. “It was not kind. ”
Miss Landell pushed back her letter, folded
her hands over it, and gazed at her with a
slight sm : le.
‘ ‘ At least it was wise. ’ ’
“Why?”
“My brother and you can never be friends,
Miss Gresham.
‘ ‘ Eut we are friends! ’ ’
“ Not now, I think.”
“It is only a slight misunderstanding, I as
sure you,” eaidAurelia, eagerly. “Two words
from me would explain it.”
“Then those two words must never be
spoken.”
“ What can you mean ?”
“You force me to speak more plainly than
I could wish to do. Ask yoqrself if a White
chapel ballad-singer is a fit associate for Mr.
Frederick Landell—the representative of an
ancient family—the heir of a large estate ?”
“A Whitechapel ballad-singer!” said Au
relia, turning very pale. “ You know all,
then?”
“ I do.”
“Who told you?”
“ That is my secret.”
“It matters little, though. Does he know
it?”
“Of course.”
“ And be despises me ?”
“ On the contrary, he pities you.”
“I don’t want his pity, nor yours!” cried
Aurelia, stung into a sudden rage by the mock
ing glance of the cold blue eyes. “Keep it
yourself—you will need it yet.”
“Thank you,” said Miss Landell, coldly.
“ And now I think you had better go.”
“You need not tell me that.”
The next instant the door shut heavily, and
Aurelia was living like a mad creature down
the lawn. Miss Landed looked after her till
she reached the iron gates and ran out into the
high road. She then folded and sealed her
letter, and gave it to the post-boy with a happy
heart.
(To be continued.)
Singular Optical Illusion.—A gen
tleman living in Brussels, somewhat troubled
by cobwebs and spots in his eyes, rubbed them
one night with a few drops of belladonna. In
the morning the cobwebs were gone, but the
old outer face of the world was changed. His
newspaper, which had been placed by his bed
side, was composed of type so small that he
could hardly decipher it. He rang the bell,
and his stout servant wench had shrunk into a
thin little girl of ten years. He got up in a
great fright and looked after his clothes—they
were the garments of a child, but as his own
limbs had diminished in proportion, he got into
them. He found his wife and children at the
table, 'the former a dwarf, and the latter a row
of dolls. He hurried off to his physician ; the
horses he met looked like dogs, the dogs like
rats. Everything was Lilliputian. Lotions
were applied to the victim’s eyes, and the next
day Brobdigang returned, bringing back the
cobwebs and spots. This phenomena, called
“micropie,” does not seem to have occurred
more than half a dozen times, though it may
yet be brought on at will by the employment
of certain, substances.
Ladies would doubtless be glad to
know what their discharged servants say of
them after slamming the door. Their next
employers can tell them precisely.
[Written for the Sunday Dispatch I
THE PICTURE.
By J. Gordon Emmons.
Oh, I will look upon this face
So beautiful, and dear to me,
When I am speeding from this place
To distant lands beyond the sea.
And I will think of those fair days
We passed together long ago,
When all was bright as summer rays,
And we knew not of care or woe I
And I will know that these sweet eyes
Will sometimes shed a tear for me ;
And these pure lips send to the skies
A prayer for him beyond the sea!
And I will pray for thee, dear girl,
And wear thy picture near my heart
Until we meet again at last,
- And meet again no more to part.
War
A Soldier’s Graveyard.—A corres
pondent of the Post with the army before
Vicksburg sends the following description of a
soldier’s graveyard :
“ Perhaps-one of the first things you would
notice in the vicinity of Vicksburg would be
the long lines of graves on the river slope of
the levee, and bordering our path within afoot
or two of it for a considerable portion of our
walk ; they do not lie side by side, there is
scarcely room on the slope of the levee for
two abreast, but are buried head to foot, a long
single file of dead that crowd upon the path of
the living. Every regiment carries its dead to
that portion of the levee, immediately in front
of it; and if you had no other guide, the rude
head boards would tell you what regimental
camps you were passing. The best of these
head boards are only pieces of box lids. Some
times those that belong to one regiment or to
one battery present a neater appearance and
similarity of execution, that betrays the work
manship of the.same hand, some one who has
been tacitly elected by his comrades ‘ ‘ carver
of the grave-boards ;” some kindly soul that,
with deftly-handled jacknife, carves the name
of comrade after comrade on these frail ma
terials to guide the friends that may some time
come to take him home. In the majority of
cases, however, the name is only written with
a pencil on a small piece of board, and in many
instances only a stick or small lo>ugh is stuck
into the ground at either end of the grave to
warn the tliroifg that passes to withhold their
feet. Nearly all of these graves are below the
level of the river, bftt it is the only place where
the dead can find a rest. The ground where
the camps are pitched is too wet and the nar
row top of the levee must be ’ reserved as a
thoroughfare for the living. The sight of these
graves so slightly marked, and whose borders
encroach upon the only highway, shocks one
at first, out in a day or two one becomes ac
customed to it. Soldiers lounge among the
graves, and smoke their pipes sitting on the
ground; regardless of the fact that only a couple
of feet beneath lies one who, perhaps, a few
days before lounged and smoked there, as un
concerned as they.”
What a Water Cure Man says about
Medicine and the Hebei. Ahmy.—“lt was
most unfortunate policy on the part of our
Government in making medicines contraband.
The worst, thing that it could have done to
the rebels would have been to send them all
the medicines they wanted. There could not
have been a more economical method of carry
ing on the war, o o <»
have heard for a whole year or more that the
rebel armies are .poorly fed. scantily clothed,
almost wholly destitute of medicines, and that
in many places quinine is held at fabulous
prices, while miserable whisky is twenty dollars
a gallon. And because of these things we are
assured, over and over again, that the enemy
is terribly demoralized. But who has suspect
the real truth ? Who has imagined that the
wonderful endurance, the strange successes,
the almost marvelous efficiency, the long
marches, the celerity of movement, the success-'
ful raids, the masterly retreats, and the sleep
less vigilance which characterize so many por
tions of the rebel army, are owing to their
simple and scanty fare, their destitution of
drugs, and their privation of intoxicating
drinks ? To a higher physiology and a deeper
philosophy than prevails in political circles the
remarkable events of the war are neither
strange nor mysterious. The army of the
Potomac, while in the Chickahominy swamps,
was fed on double rations of whisky, and ‘ ‘any
quantity” of quinine, as preventives of disease ;
and never was a well-appointed ariny more
rapidly destroyed by disease. The sum of
money paid for a single drug—quinine— was at
the rate of five and a half million dollars a
year. If this sum had been appropriated to
sending quinine clandestinely to the rebels,
McClellan might not have been necessitated
to “ change his base,” and the taking of Rich
mond would have been, with his army, “ only
a matter of time.” ’
The Second Duryea Zouaves.—One
of the finest military displays by a single regi
ment that has been seen in this city for a long
time was made on Tuesday, by the Second Dur
yea Zouaves, as they marched through some of
the principal streets, in full dress.. At first
sight, their unique uniform strikes the beholder
as slightly fantastic; but this impression rapidly
wears oil, and is succeeded by unbounded ad
mirat'on for their tidy appearance, -their excel
lent drill and music. They were marching
unde' command of Lieut.-Col. Abel Smith,
Jr., and Major Gouverneur Carr. They
marched part of the time with what is termed
“ cadensed step,” when the Zouaves marched
in silence ; but the singing of songs on a march
is one of the chaiacteristics of the Zouaves;
and as they passed our office they were march
ing by the route step, and chanting, in excel
lent time, “Le Zouave est un vrai Lion.”
They also gave, * ‘ Comrades, touch the elbow. ’ ’
They attracted great attentipn, both among
the citizens and soldiery, and as they filed
along, singing their wild chants, large crowds
flocked towards them from every direction.
The Second Duryea Zouaves comprise a portion
of the original regiment raised by Col. Duryea,
in April, 1861, under the call of President Lin
coln, calling out 75,000 three months’ men.
A portion of them have, therefore, been in the
field ever since the war begun. They look like
soldiers who might be depended upon in an
emergency, and we doubt not will give a good
account of themselves when the proper time
arrives.— New Orleans Era, March 12.
The Rebels at Vicksburg Again
“Sold.”—The rebels were “sold” by aquaker
gunboat, on the night of the 7th, for the second
time. Having seen the Lafayette that day,
and knowing from her shape and build that
she was a new arrival, they were"on the qui vive
all night for another attempt to run the block
ade. Admiral Porter had a wooden Monitor in
readiness. Her hull was p, long raft, her case
mates we-e pine planks, her “chimneys”
empty barrels, and her armament consisted of
three cottonwood howitzers. A light was
placed on board of her and some damp wood
was fired so as to make her chimneys “smoke,”
in imitation of the genuine. The night was
dark, but the rebels were not to be caughe nap
ping. A couple of tugs left the quaker in the
current, and in a very short time she was care
fully wending her way past the Confederate
stronghold. When directly opposite the bat
teries, she was observed- by the rebel pickets.
A signal rocket was*sent up, the long roll was
sounded, the Confederate camp was alarmed,
and in a very short time every battery was fully
manned for desperate conflict. A heavy fire
was Opened on the Federal man-of-war, and
kept up until she had floated out of range.
Over one hundred and fifty guns were fired at
her, but with what effect I have not learned.
It is presumed that the rebels found out their
mistake in the morning as the gunboat ”
must have grounded or run into the riveribank
before reaching Natchez.
Rewarding Privates for Meritorious
Sekvices.—About eleven months ago eighteen
privates belonging to Ohio regiments were de
tailed by the late Gen. Mitchel for special duty,
and accordingly penetrated Georgia for the de
struction of railroads, and otherwise to damage
the enemy, but the rebels captured them, hung *
seven, and confined the remainder in dungeons ■
treating them as felons. On Monday six of
the ■number arrived in Washington, having
been sent to Fort Monroe under flag of truce.
The others, it is supposed, escaped from prison.
On Wednesday by request the returned sol
diers had an interesting interview with Judge
Advocate-General Holt, and also witli the Sec
retary of War, in fhe presence of a number of
army officers. The Secretary presented each of
them a medal, such as was authorised by the
late Congress for meritorious conduct, these
being the first bestowals of that character. He,
in addition, gave to each SIOO, 'ordered the '
payment of their arrearages, and a sum equiv
alent to that taken from them by the rebels.
He has requested Gor. Tod to appoint these
men lieutenants in the volunteer service. In
the event of his doing so, they will be brevet
ed lieutenants in the regular service. They
afterward had an interview with the President
at the Executive mansion.
A Terrible Penalty op Treason.—
The New Albany Ledger says : Manv of our
citizens will remember Professor Nutting, a
musician of superior accomplishments, a gen
tleman of fine social qualities, and former load
er and tutor of the far famed “New Albany-
Silver Band.” Unfortunately, Professor Nut
ting, who left New Albany for a residence ia
the South prior to the breaking out of the re
bellion, became poisoned by that fatal error
Secession, and enlisted as a musician in. the
rebel army, leaving his wife and several beau
tiful and interesting children to the care of
Southern patriots, who promised him they should
not want for anything. The band to which
Professor.N utting was attached was soon dis
pensed with, and the members reduced to the
ranks. Then these promises, like all others
made by the rich and leading traitors, were
soon broken, and not long since two of Profes
sor Nutting’s children died of actual starvation
at Jackson, Miss.; and his heart-broken wife,
after suffering from illness and hunger, wag
finally sent through our lines, and by means;
of funds supplied by the charitable and sympa
thetic, forwarded to the home of her parents
in Michigan. We have this report well authen
ticated by a letter received in this city by a well
known and responsible citizen, and from an
equally reliable source at Louisrille.
The Conscription Act will very likely
be enforced in this State within the Federal
lines, with certain restrictions. We hear that
it is contemplated to raise a regiment of rebel
conscripts exclusively, in this city. No loyal
man will be allowed to join it. The officers,
of course, will be of the true blue, aud the
privates will be either forced to fight, or in
case they refuse to do so, they will be held as
prisoners of war, to be exchanged for the Union
conscripts in the rebel army. It strikes ns
that this outrage of conscripting loyal men tn
fight under the flag of treason has gone far
enough, and that it should be checkmated.
Let two regiments composed of the fiercest
rebels in the city be drafted immediately, for
duty in the Federal army, and if they refuse
to coerce, subjugate and demolish their south
ern brethren, let them be swapped off forth
with for the Union conscripts now at Tulla
homa. We know of no place where the con
scription law could be enforced with better ef
fect than Nashville. Its enforcement would
free the city of many fierce and stubborn foes
of the Government, and it would afford a joy
ful deliverance to thousands of loyal citizens,
who have been dragooned into the rebel ser
vice.—Nashville Union.
A Dedham Boy Sold into Slavery. —•
From reliable information received on Wednes
day, it is ascertained that Charles Amos, a
bright coloiedlad, about 16 years of age, a na
tive of this town, and his cousin, a lad of about
the same age, who formerly lived at Jamaica
Plain, have been sold into slavery. The two
boys-went out as servants to some ef the offi
cers in the Massachusetts 42d regiment, aad at
the capture of Galveston were taken by tha
rebels and sold into slavery. What a com
mentary upon the boasted civilization of the
age is this enslavement of free born norther®
men. We hope that some of our Dedham
boys, whose patriotism does not lie on thesur
face, will speedily avenge the terrible wrong
inflicted upon their little townsmen. — Dedham,
Mass., Gazette.
Pleasant Associates—A private let
ter from Hilton Head, S. C., published ffi the
Roxbury, Mass., Journal, says :
“ We are living in shelter tents, about three
fest high and two wide—two men in a tent.
They are a little better than nothing to kee»
the rain from us When it don’t rain the saad
blows, so that .we have to roll over three or
. four times in the night to empty it out of our
ears. Spiders without number crawl over us,
reptiles of various kinds are common here. I
have the rattles of a snake, seven feet long,
with twenty rattles—an old settler—having
been an inhabitant of the island twenty-threo
years. In the next camp they have an alli
gator, so you see we are surrounded by pleas
ant associates.”
A weak-kneed soldier -who has beea
in the hospital at Louisville, for several
months, a few days ago fell in love with a
young lady in the neighborhood, and wrote
. her a letter asking a secret meeting on a cer
tain evening. One of .the hospital nurses, in
stead of the young lady, received the letter,
and the result was a reply consenting to the
meeting. At the appointed time, one of the
nurses, dressed in female attire, was at the ren
dezvous, and the sick soldier, throwing away
his cane and forgetting his lameness, sailed ia
with a vigorous demonstration of affection
somewhat remarkable for an invalid. It was
so ridiculous that the recipient of these atten
tions gave way to such shouts of laughter that
the invalid discovered the imposition, deserted,
and has not replied at roll-call since.
The Very Last Wrinkle.—Yester
day afternoon, the guard at the aqueduct
bridge stopped an Irish woman crossing into
Virginia there, because there was a strong aro
ma of liquor about her, while she appeared per
fectly sober. After a long search, they dis
covered the “ardent” inclosed in two bladders
and worn as false breasts, which looked to ths
casual observer so natural, that the officer
making the search was upon the point of per
mitting her to pass with her patent mothers’
milk undetected.— Washington Star, March 25.
AquiaaGreek Fortified.—A number
of forts, redoubts and minor defenses have just
been completed at AquiaGieek, rendering that
place almost impregnable. The works were
executed by the troops of General Geary's di
vision, who are stationed at that point. A por
tion of General Geary’s command at Dumfries,
have similarly fortified that position, so that
the enemy would find it a difficult undertaking
to force these key points of the Lower l’o
tomac.
Strange Fatality - Last September
three young men enlisted into one company for
the llth'New Hampshire Regiment, at Lyme.
They left for the seat of war together, picket
ed, tented, eat and slept together. Some time
since they were taken sick with the measles at
Newport News, and all breathed their last
within a few hours of erch other. Last Sab
bath the lifeless remains of all were received
at Lyme, easting a gloom and mourning over
all the community.— St. Johnsburg ( Vt.) Cale
donian.
George Warner, a private in tie
Third Ohio Cavalry, who had deserted, wag
arrested last week by the Provost Marshal.
Before taking the train for Columbus, lit
asked permission to visit an eating-house.
When he had advanced about ten steps, he
turned about, drew a pistol, and placing it at
his heart, discharged it, killing himself in
stantly.
Tricks.—The Nashville Unirni states
that a daughter of Hon. Cave Johnson dis
guised her half brother in petticoats, the other
day, and attempted to pass him through our
lines in this graceful and becoming garb. Un
luckily for the lady, the young man was de
tected, and both herself and brother are under
arrest, and will be tried for the offense.
The Rebel Falstaff.—The ponder
ous General Humphrey Marshall catches it se
verely from the rebel papers for his good easy
ways in allowing General Carter to invade
East Tennessee and bum bridges, tear up rail
ways, &c. Humphrey is very fat, and of cßurs«
very lazy—and that’s what’s the matter.
It is rumored that Gustavus W.
Smith, who recently resigned a major general
ship in the rebel army, has been in New York,
and was entertained at a grand dinner by an
upper-crust traitor’. So says the Rochester
Express. Another account is that his wife hag
.just sent him a supply of new clothing, etc.
Henry Smith, the razor strop man,
writes from Frederick, Md., saying that he en
listed m the 140th New York Volunteers, ami
has been assigned to duty as a nurse in an hos
pital, and appeals to all' peddlers to drop their
packs and join the Union army, as he has done.
There is not half the pleasure i*
loving a pretty girl that there is in loving a
sensible one; for, while we are sure of the in
dividual love an£ affections of the latter, th*
affections of the former may be divided—at
least we are apt tq think, so.
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