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SETII EHOVTN, EUltOr. Tuesday, January 10, 18G4 On Guard. At midnight, on my lonely beat, Where ibadenr wrap! the wood and lea, i A v'uion leemi my view to greet Of on at horn that praya for ma. Ko roie bloom upon ber cheek Her form ii not a lover' dream But on ber face o fair and meek, A boat of holier beaniiea gleam. For softly ehinej her ailver hair, A patient tmile U on btr face, And the mild luitront light of prayer Around beribed a moon-like grace. 6b e prayi for one that'f far away Tbe aoldier in hit holy fight And begf that heaven, in mercy, may Protect ber boy and bless tbe Right ! Till, though the leagues lie far between, Tbia silent incense of her heart Steals o'er my sonl with breath serene, And we no longer are apart. So, guarding thus my lonely beat, By shadowy wood and haunted lea, That vision seems my Tiew to greet Of her at horns who prays for me. [Harper's Weekly.] The Scout's Narrative. It was in the bleak mountain country of East Tennessee? the evening was growing late, and the camp-fire was smoldering lower and lower, but we still sat around it, for the spell of thescout'i marvelous gift of story-teliing we were none of us willing to dissolve. Cap tain Charlie Leighton had been a Lieutenant in a Michigan Battery at the commencement of the war, but a natural love of 'excitement and restlessness of aoul had early prompted him to cek employment as a scout, in which he soon rose to nnusual eminence. He is a man of much refinement, well-educated, and of a "quick inventive brain." The tale I am about to relate is my best recollection of it as it fell from his lips, and if there is aught of cleganee in its diction as here presented it is all his own. He had been delighting us with the incidents of the war, most of which were derived from his own experience, when I ex pressed a desire to know something of his first attempt at sctniting. He willingly assented, took a long pull at my brandy flask, and com menced his yarn; and I thought I had never teen a handsomer man than Charlie Leighton, the scout, as he carelessly lounged there, with the ruddy gleams of the dying camp-fire occa sionally flickering over his strongly marked intelligent face, and his curling black hair waving fitfully in the night wind, w hich now came down from the mountain fresher and chillier. It happened in Western Virginia, said he. I had been personally acquainted with our commander, General B., before the war com menced, and having intimated, a short time previous to the date of my story, that I de sired to try my luck in the scouting service of which a vast deal was required to counter act the guerrillas with which the Blue llidge fairly teemed at that time one night, late in the fall of the rear, I was delighted to receive orders to report at his headquarters. The General was a man of few words, and my in structions were brief. "Listen." said he. " My only reliable scout (Mackwortbl -was killed last night at the lower ford; and General F. (the rebel com mander) has his headquarters at the Sedley Mansion on the Romney road." " Very well," said I, beginning to feel a lit tle queer. " I want you to go to the Sedley Mansion," vfi. ilip cn.il reioinilpr "To go there ! Why it's in the heart of the enemy's position ! " was my amazed ejacula tion. "Just the reason I want it done," resumed the General. "Listen: I attack to-morrow at daybreak. F. knows it, or half suspects it, and will mass either on the center or the left wing. I must know vhirh. Tho task is thick with danger regular life and death. Two 'miles from here, midway to the enemy's out posts, and six paces beyond the second mile atone, are two rockets propped on the inside of a hollow stump. Mackworth placed them there yesterday. You are to slip to F.'s quar ters to-nigbt, learn what I want, and hurry back to the hollow stump. If he masses on the center, let off one rocket ; if on the left, let effboth. This duty, I repeat, abounds with danger. Y'ou must start immediately, and alone. Will vou ffo?" - r Everything considered, I think I voted in the affirmative pretty readily, but it required a slight struggle. Nevertheless, consent I did, and immediately left the tent to make ready. It was nearly ten o'clock when, having re ceived a few additional words of advice, from the chief, I set forth on my perilous ride. The country was quite familiar to me, so I had lit tle fear of losing my w ay, w hich was no in eonsiderableadvantage, lean tell you. Biding slowly at first, as soon as I had passed our last outpost, I put spurs to my horse (a glorious gray thorough-bred which the General had lent me for the occasion) and fled down the mountain St a break-necR pace. It was a cool, misty, uncertain night almost frosty, and the coun try was wild and desolate. Mountains and ravines were the ruling features, with now and then a diversification of the brooniy. ir regular plateau with which our mountain scenery is occasionally softened. I continued toy rapid pace with but little caution until I arrived at the further eMremity of one of these plateaux. Here I brought up sharply beside block of granite, which I recognized as the second mile-stone. Dismounting, I proceeded to a hollow stump which the General had in timated, and finding the rockets there, exam ined them well to make sure of their c-iEciency remounted, and was away again. But now I exercised much more caution in mv move- mat, - T ......... 1,.1 1.,... 1 I 4. i ims wui a s.'jm , iwrpi my uu. yu the turf at the edge of the road, in order to deaden the hoof-be.its, and also shortened the fhain of my 8 ibre, binding the scabbard with trainee to prevent its jingling. till I was rot satisfied, but tore my handkerchief in two i and made fast to either heel of the rowel of rny spurs, which otherwise had a little tinkle ' Then I kept wide awake, with my-' everywhere at once ia the hope of catch- j ing a glimpse of sonic clew or landmark the glimmer of a camp-fire a tent-top in the moonlight, w hich now began to shine faintly , r to hear the snort of a steed, the signal of a j picket anything, anything to guide me or to give warning of the lurking foe. But, no: if , there kad been any ciimp-fires. they wore ( der.d ; if any tents they were struck. Not a sign not a sound. Everything was ns ' quiet as the tomb. The great mountains rose around me in their mantles of L'incand hoods of mist, cheerless and repellinc, as if their solilulc had never been broken. The moon. V?as drivins through a weird and ragged sky, with something desolate and solemn in her h.'gg-ird fiee that seemed like an omen of il!. And in spite of my efforts to be cheerful I felt the 'roi lur.cVncss find sense of danger creep through my tieh and touch the bones. None but those who have actually experi ence 1 it can properly conceive of the appre hensions which throng the breast of him, how- soever brave, w ho knows himself to Vie alone ; in the midst cf eiremies who are invisible. The ! li'ir.-'iMiter of Abvssinia is encompassed wiih 1 peril when he makes a pillow of his gitn in the d -sen ; and rr.r own pioneer slumbers but lightly in Iiir new cabin when he knows that the savage, whose monomania is vnirea nee. if prowling the fnret that skirts his clearing. Jin the lina is n't shray hungrv; ano" even him to his knees, while the gun slipped to the ground. There was a fierce but silent struggle. The fellow could not speak for my hand on his throat; but be wis a powevful 'man. with a, bowie-knife in his holt, if he could ouly get at it. But I got it first, hesi cftheirown. fated a moment-, and then drove it in his mid eyes riff to the hilt ; and ju't at that insinnt his grinders closed'on my ai m and bit to the bone. i the Indian may be conciliated. The hunter 1 ' confronts his terrible antagonist with nc- I thin" ce I'.ier than ferocitv. The hand that I ' leTcls and the eye that direct? the rille tube ; j are nerved and fired by " the mind, the spirit, : ! the Promethean spark." which, in this case, is ! indeed a '' tower of strength." And the set- ! tier, with promises and alcohol, may have won ' t,,, saTa?e to himself. But to the solitary ; gcout. at midnicht. everv turn in the road mnv i conceal a finger on a hair tripcer; every stump or buh mav hold a foe in wmtine. If he rides thronch a forest it is only in the deepest shad ow that he dares ride upright; and should he cross an open plade, where starlight or moon shine drops freclv, he crouches low on the Lsaddle and hurries across, for every second he feels he may be a target, fiis senses are painfully alive his faculties strained to their utmost tension. By way of a little episode. I knew a very suc cessful scout, who met his death, however, on the Peninsula, who would always require along sleep immediately afteran expedition of peril, if it had lasted but a few hours, and had ap parently called forth no more muscular exer tion than was necessary to sit the saddle. Bat, strange as it may seem, he would complain of overpowering fatigue, and immediately drop into the most profound slumber. And I hare been informed that this is frequently the ease. I can only attribute it to the fact that, owing to the extreme and almost abnormal vivacity I think of no better word of the faculties and senses, a man on these momentous occa sions lives tirieeor thrice at fatt as ordinarily ; and the usual nerve-play and wakefulness of a day and night may thus be concentrated in the brief period of a few hours. But to resume : I felt to the full this appre hension, this anxiety, this exhaustion, but the knowledge of my position and the irsues at stake kept my blood flowing, I had come to the termination of the last plateau or plain, where the road led me down the side of a ra vine, with a prospect ahead of nothing but darkness. Here, too, I was compelled to make more noise, us there wag no sod for my horse to tread on, and the road was flinty and rough in the extreme. But I kept on as cautiously as possible, when suddenly, just at the bottom of the ravine, where the road began to ascend the opposite declivity, I came to a dead halt, confronted by a group of several horsemen, so suddenly that the' seemed to haTC sprung from the earth like phantoms. " Why do you return so slowly? " said one of them, impatiently. What have you seen ? Did you meet Colonel Craig? " For a moment a brief one I gave myself up for lost r but, wiih rapid reflection and keen invention which a desperate strait will sometimes superinduce, I grasped the language of the speaker, and formed my plan accord ingly. "Why do you return so slowly ? " I had been sent somewhere, then. " What haTe you seen?" I had been sent as a spy. then. "Did. you meet Colonel Craig?" Oho! I thought, will be Colonel Craig. No, I won't : I will be Colonel Craig's orderly. So I spoke out boldly : " Colonel Craig met your messenger, who had seen nothing, au l advised him to scout down the edge of the creek for half a mile. Burhe dis patched me, his orderly, to say that the enemy appear to be retreating in heavy masses. I am also to convey this intelligence to Gen eral F." The troopers had started at the tones of a strange voice, but seemed to listen with in terest and without suspicion. "Did the Colonel think the movement a real retreat or only a feint ? " asked the leader. " lie was uncertain,"' I replied, beginning to feel secure and roguish at the same time; " but he bade me say that he would ascertain ; and in an hour or two if you should sec one rocket up to the north there, you might con clude that the Yankees were retreating; if youshould see two, then you might guess that they were not retreating, but stationary, with likelihood of remaining inert for another day." " Good I " cried the rebel. "Do you know the way to the General's quarters ? " " I think I can find it," said I; "although I am not familiar with this side of the moun tain." " It's a mile this side of the Sedley Man sion," said the trooper. "You will find some pickets at the head of the road. You must there leave your horse, and climb the steep, when you will see a farm-house, and fifteen minutes' walk toward it will bring you to the General's tent. I will go with you to the top of the road." And. setting off at a gallop, the speaker left me to follow, which I hesitated not to do. Now, owing to their mistake, the coun tersign had not been thought of; but the next picket would not be likely to swallow the same dose of silence, and it was a lucky thing that the trooper led the way, for he would reach them first, and I would have a chance to catch the pass-word from his lips. But he passed the picket so quickly, and dropped the pre cious syllables so indistinctly, that I only caught the first of them " Tally" while tbe remainder might as well have been Greek. Tally, tally, tally what? Good God! thought I, what cah it be ? Tally, tally here I am al most up to the pickets! what can it bet Tal lyho? No, that's English. Talleyrand? No, that's French. God help me 1 Tally, tally "Tallahassee ! " I yelled, with the inspira tion of despair, as I dashed through the piok ets, and their leveled carbines ank toothless before that wonderful spell the Countersign. Blessing my stars, and without further mis hap, I reached the place indicated by the trooper, which was high up on the side of the mountain so high that clouds were forming in the deep valley below. Making my bridle fast, I clambered with some difficulty the slill ascending slope on my left. Kxtraordinary caution was required. I almost crept toward the farm-house, and soon perceived the tent of the rebel chief. A solitary guard was pa cing between it and me probably a hundred yards from the tent. Perceiving that bold ness was my only plan, I sauntered up to him with as free-and-easy an air as I could master. "Who go"s there?" " A friend.'' ' "Advance and give the countersign." I advanced as near as was safe, and whis pered "Tallahassee," with some fears as to the result. "It's a d d lie!'' said the sentry, bringing his piece to the shoulder in the twinkie of an eye. "That answers the pickets but not nie." Click, click, went tha rising hammer of the musket. I am n. dead man, thought I to myself, I am a dead man unless the cap fails. Won derful, marvelous to relate, the cap did fail. The hammer dropped with a dull, harmless thug' on the ninrdc. With the rnpiditv of ,U il. J . 1. .. ...!. . . 1. r 1T 1 1 i uuuui. uu'i i no eiea. m 01 a pan i lie r I gnueu forward and clutched his windpipe, fo-cins Restraining a cry with the utmost d.fhctilty, ! I got in ano her blow, this time home, ani the j jaws of the rebel flew apart with a start, for i my blade had pressed the spring of tin casket. ! Breathless from the struggle, I lay still toco!- i lect my thought-, and listened to know if j the inmates of the tent had been disturbed. ! But no; a light was shining through thecan- ! vas, ami 1 coui I hear the low murtnur oft voices from within, which-I had before no- ticcd, and which seemed to be those of a mini- ; ber of men. in earnest consultation. I luuked i at the corpse of the rebel remorsefully. The i slouched hat had fallen off in the scuffle, and ' the pale face of the d -ad man was upturned j to the scant moonlight. It was a young, no- ; b'e. and exceedingly han-hsome face, and I ! noticed tli"t the hands and f-ct were stu-,11 ! and beautifully shaped; while everything' about the body derailed it to h ive been the j mansion of a evil. int. gentle soul. U na it a ! fair fight ? did 1 attack hirn just!'. ? thought 1; and. in the Midd'-n contrition of my heart, ! I almost kuelt to the ground. But the sjuse I of my great peril recurred to m ', s: illin'; every thing else, however worthy. 1 took off the dead man's ovetcout and put it on, threw my cap away and replaced it iih the fallen sotn brero. and llieu drugged the corpse behind an outhouse nf the f,i;-'e that stood close bv. Re- j j I : turning, I picked np the gun, and began to gaunter up and down in a very commendable way indeed ; but a sharp observer might have noticed a furtiveness and anxiety in the fre quent glances I threw at the tent, which would not have augured well for my safety. I drew Dearer and nearer to the tent at every turn, until I could almost distinguish the voices within; and presently after taking a most minute survey of the premises, I crept up to the tent, crouched down to the bottom of the trench, and listened with all my might. I could also see under the canvas. There were half a dozen rebel chieftains within, and a map was spread on a table in the center of the apartment. At length the consultation was at an end, and the company rose to depart. I ran back to my place, and resumed the watch ful saunter of the guard with as indifferent an air as possible, drawing the hat well over my eyes. The generfls came outside of the tent and looked about a little before they disappeared. Two of them came close to me and passed al most within a yard of the sentry's body. But they passed on, and I drew a deep breath of relief. A light still glimmered through the tent, but presently that, too, vanished, and all was still. But occasionally I would hear the voice of a fellow sentry, or perhaps the rattle of a halter in some distant manger. I looked at my watch. It was two o'clock would be five before I could fire the signal, and the attack was to be at daybreak. Cautiously as before, I started on my re turn, .reaching my horse without accident Here I abandoned the gun and overcoat, re mounted, and started down the mountain. "Tallahassee" let me through the first picket again, but something was wrong when I can tered down the ravine to the troopers to whom I had been so confidentially dispatched by Colonel Craig. Probably the genuine mes senger, or perhaps tbe gallant Colonel him self had paid them a Tisit during my absence. At any rate, I saw that something unpleas ant was up, but resolved to make the best of it. " Tallahassee ! " I cried, as I began to de scend the ravine. " Halt, or you're a dead man 1 " roared the leading trooper? "He's a Y'auk I " "Cut him down! " chimed in the others. "Tallahassee! Tallahassee!" I yelled. And committing my soul to God, I plunged down the gully with sabre and rsvolver in cither hand. Click bang! something grazed my cheek like a hot iron. Click bang again ! some thing whistled by my ear with an ugly in tonation. And then I was in their midst, shooting, stabbing, slashing, and swearing like a fiend The rim of my hat flopped over my face from a sabre cut, and I felt blood trickling down my neck. But I burst away from them, up the bank of the ravine, and along the bare plateau, all the time yelling "Tallahassee ! Tallahassee ! " without know ing w hy. I could hear the alarm spread back over the mountain by halloos and drums, and presently the clatter of pursuing steeds. But I fled onward like a whirlwind, almost fainting from excitement and loss of blood, until I reeled off at the hollow stump. Fix, fiz ! one, two! and my heart leaped with exultation as the rushing rockets fol lowed each other, in quick succession to the zenith, and burst on the gloom in glittering showers. Emptying the remaining tubes of my pistol at the nearest pursuer, now but fifty yards off, I was in the saddle and away again, without waiting to see the result of my aim. It was a ride for life for a few mo ments ; but I pressed as noble a steed as ever spurned the footstool, and as we neared the Union lines the pursuit dropped off. When I attained the summit of the first ridge of our position, and saw the day break faintly and rosily beyond the pine-tops and along the crags, the air fluttered violently in my face, the solid eartli quivered beneath my feet, as a hundred cannon opened simultaneously above, below, and around me. Seried columns of men were swinging irresistibly down tbe mountain toward the opposite slope; firing field-pieces were dashing off into position ; long lines of cavalry were haunting the gul lies, or hovering like vultures on the steep; and the Mare of bugles rose alove the roar of the artillery with a wild, victorious peal. The two rockets had been answered, and the veterans of the Union were bearing down upon the enemy's weakened center like an avalanche of fire. "So that is al?," said the scout, rising and yawning. "The battle had begun in earnest. And maybe I didn't dine with General R. when it was over and the victory gained. Let's go to bed." SCRAPS. Truths, like roses, have thorns about them. Great opportunities' are generally the re sult of the improvement of small ones. A litli.e explained, a little endured, a lit tle passed over at a foible, and, lo ! the rugged atoms will fit like smooth mosaics. The sympathy of Louis Napoleon with the South can no longer be doubted, since a rebel pirate has been taken to his Brett. Whes men are together they listen to one another, but women and girls look at one another. Periodicals are the dead leaves that fertil ize the soil of literature. SoLniKR S Definition of "Picket " "Ticket is one who goes out to borrow tobackcr from the enemy, and see if the rebels have got a pass." Curiosity becomes a vice when it is only an itching to learn what is amiss with others. A wao says that if a lawyer Etarves in a village, he induces another to set tle there, and both thrive. If yoc wish to offer your hand to a lady, choose youropportunity the best opportunity is when she is getting out of a rail-car. Erti.s in t Ii r journey of life arelike the hills whi-h alarm th traveler upon the road: they both appear great at a distance, but when we approach them we find them far less than we imagined. " CoxsTiTrTiosALLT tired," is the polite way of expressing that a man is naturally bzy. "Little boys should be seen, not heard," as the boy said w Len he could not recite his lesson. TnE Poetry of Motion Skating with a pretty gill. Sympathy is Hkeblind man's buff. Because it is a fellow feeling for a fellow creature. Whev a man takes more pleasure in earning money than spending it, he has taken the first slcp to wealth. We suppose that a "shower of gold" must be composed of reigning sovereigns. "The more the merrier." Not so; onehaud is enough in a purse. Nothing on earth is so ridiculous as the af fected caution of a fool after he has been hum bugged. " Moxey is a great comfort,." Not .when it brings the thief to the gallows. A Pi XSTER, at the point of death, being ad vised to eat a piece of pullet, dot-lined, because it might lay on his stomach. A lie once spoken, a coach and four horses could never bring it back. N.VTvnE designed the heart to be always warm, and the hand to be often open. Goi is on the side of virtue; for he who dreads punish mint suffers it, and he who de serves it dreads it. II . its x ess is liken pitr with a greased tail ; everybody is running tTftcr it, hut none can hold il. I private, we m ti t watch our thoughts ; in the family, our temper; in company, our tongues. A i.oviMi friend's rebuke sinks to the heart, and con vines the judgment; a stranger's re- j buk i1- invective, nu-1 irritates, not converts. [Written for the Sentinel.] THROUGH MISTS. BY JENNIE CAULFIELD. [Continued.] Mr. Brown had taken a house in Pennsyl vania avenue an elegant mansion the handsome apartments and appointments of which were in perfect keeping with the show rooms of Oak wood. We arrived in Washington in the dead of night, and there was a strange awe about the place, imparted by the lateness of the hour, that impressed us all like a presentiment of evil, as we peered out through the narrow carriage-windows into the deserted streets, dis cernible by tie flickering gas-lights. Clara and Mrs. Brown recognized theold frequented ways, as we whirled through the avenues, but to me they had no meaning, as we turned un familiar corners inio streets that departed further and further from what I remembered of Baltimore and knew of Westville, and bore no home-like resemblance to the old associa tions. It was relief to stop before the hospitable-looking mansion, which, in defiance of grandeur, bespoke home, not only exter nally, but internally; every inanimate ob ject was clothed with a tongue speaking of welcome, not only to the inmates there, but even to the ycry Btranger within its gates pro claimed, not only in the assurances of the host, but in the smiling physiognomy of the porter and the inviting position of the fur niture of the drawing-room. We had been expected all day, for Mrs. Moreland had preceded us. The windows were all alight, and cheerful fires were still burning, and refreshing coffee awaited us in the cosy dining-room. Wearied, jaded as we were, it revived us wonderfully, and put us in the best of humor with ourselves and the world at large; and, notwithstanding the un seasonableness of the hour, we were enabled to do much of the disagreeable business of un packing before we retired. It was raining steadily in the morning, heavy gray clouds rolled over the sky incessantly, and there was no prospect of the weather clearing. NeTer came a gloomy day more timely to those who needed rest. But our afternoon was destined to be broken in upon by callers. Some came for the sake of old acquaintanceship, some through kind intentions, but many most through curiosity, to see the young debutant. I had begged a leave of absence from the drawing-room, and was enjoying myself hugely in Mr. Brown's library, but I could hear the carriages as they drew up and the pompous delivery of Leo as he announced the callers. We had the evening to ourselves. Mrs. Brown was quite her former self, so fully re stored to her former brilliancy that she awak ened a fond admiration in the heart of her husband, that shot up into his face as his eyes followed her quick movements about the room. She was very charming. I thought she was like a humming-bird. Mr. Brown yield to her persuasive coaxing to have " one little waltz for practice sake," which Clara rattled off in a most pleasant and spirited style, that would have summoned a "spirit in the feet" of any one averse to dancing, if they had a just appreciation of music. Clara's eyes were dark and lustrous with animation, and her face was eager with bright anticipa tion. My own heart beat high with pleasure. I sympathized with Mrs. Brown in her love of city life. One forgot the gloomy, starless evening without when listening to the foot falls and voices of pedestrians, and anon a joyous whistle defying the elements, and the plashing of carriages as they dashed along ; your heart went forth to meet the stir with out, bearing a fellow-feeling toward all hu manity. Late in the evening, when we bid Mrs. Brown good night, she kissed us with such a free, happy heart that it occasioned Clara to say to me, as we went up stairs : " I think it will do little mother good ; she loves excitement and 'festive scenes ' so well, and it will prove beneficial to all of us, indeed. But, little demure puss, I wish you were put ting on your hoots to come out into this great strange world with me; I could enjoy it bet ter, then." " My heart," I said, " will be with you al ways." "I am sure of it," she replied, kissing me; " you have not formed the least conception of that which you are in my life, darling. It is such a blessing to have you here with me. I love you, little warrior." The old name vibrated painfully upon some chords. It hurled me back into that part, from which I shrank with that past into which seemed to have been crushed the prolific bloom of my life, upon which a rank mildew rested and the shadow of an ever-approaching death. We paused at the doors of our separate rooms. " Clara," said I, " in this grand world you arc entering you will be making other friends, and forming new ties, and I feel as if you were going out to battle with your new lot on your shoulder, like Jennot's baronet, and your gorgeous dry poods on ; you'll be court ing other loves and forget the loved ones at home, so I will exact a pledge of faith ; let us exchange rings." 'Conditionally," said she; "promise there shall be no 'weeping at home,' that you will make yourself happy in this house your own house when 1 shall be separated from you in the intoxicating delights of society." We exchanged rings. They were plain cir cles, w hich v e had worn in our school-lays, and endeared to a detrrce of worth far excell ing the jeweler's value. It ever comforted me to see it still upon her finger among th diamonds and pearls and rubies. I us"d to sit at home, when she was gone to gay parties and turn the little ring upon my finger, r.iar reling the while at her truthfulness to me. I coveted the better taste of her new dressing maid, Frances a present from her father, a bite purchase with a view lo Washington life and tormented her with my assistance at the toilcf. I had attended, at t lie first dress ing, with a shuddering heart, because it seemed as if Clara was going on a journey away from me. I look back at it now, and it is all like a pantoinine. Tbe pleasnut exuber ance of life and agreeable stir throughout the house, the servants hastening to and fro. the swift opening and closing of doors, the illu mination of gas in every room where Mrs. Brown having dressed in her impatience to be off an hour too soon, wandered ; the so!'t rustle of her dress, being like the uneasy fluttering of a bin!, with the pawing of the horses at the door, was tiltly magnificent. Then tho simpln spray of flowers was fastened on ln-r becoming braids, the bracelets clasped, and an nnni'cess.iry " finishing touch " was given to the folds of her dress that I mi'lit krnw exactly how she looked. I wisln-d the fates had decreed that Henry Allen should see her then. The dvess was pinned up, a nubia w as donned, an opera-elnak was thrown about ber, and she went from me in a cloud of snowy wrappings and muslin, as it were, and was rushed into the carriage and whirled away into darkness and space. I strayed through the house, haunting each room like a resiles ghost, all but tbe librarv. There could be no reading that night. I pictured to myself the scenes in which ("lam was taking part, and she! s -ltisli tears to think I was so shut out. Then t he obi spirit rose up and accused me of turning tisiile from mv right way to idle luxury. Not going forth to bear the brunt f the struggle for my stand ing place, or toiling honestly and bravely over the upward tending surface to nn inde pendent footing, instead of clinging t,. tin easy couches of the rich. I iiite despised myself, nnd yet wa unable to protaise tliat I j ; j i ! ; ' I ' would rise on any morrow and shake of : the sweet iuthrallments of a life so well adapted to the wants and cravings of a sel ! fish, pleasure-loving soul. I even said tomy : self, w ith a vague indecision, that it was but ! right, since kind friends had proffered, to ac ' cept an agreeable home, so that I endeavored j always to lead an upright, conscientious life, I and to do good as much as lay in my power, j to those about me. I made it plain to myself, ' then (I do not see it now), that God had pur- posely ordained that I should come hiiher, dyubtiess tor some wise end. Writing now from this distance, I say that I tremble to ap proach the day of revelation, for God knows why I turned aside from paths he had ap pointed to heathe in cool shade. I was still talking with myself, having arrived at no definite conclusion concerning my future, w hen the carriage returned. Mr. Brown came home with a complacent, satisfied face, flushed a little from wine, and declared Clara had made the greatest hit of the season. Mrs. Brown was as bright and animated as when she had gone out to the carriage, but Clara looked palo,and fagged, and her step was languid. She said they were ' a stupid set," as I assisted her to undress, for I had requested to share her room that night. That was all. She was so tired her cheek hardly pressed her pillow ere she was asleep. I knew she had been bitterly disappointed, but I had expected this at first, where the crowd were mostly strangers, or her father's friends, and the rooms were close and thronged. She had been crushed and jammed, was solicited for every dance, and being left to her own re sources knew of no escape, and the men had pressed their attentions upon the novice so that the women gave vent to their spite in biting sarcasms that, as was intended, reached her sensitive car, and destroyed any solace of amusement she might otherwise have enjoyed in the bewilderiug scene. Even the men stooped to idle gossip of the day, or talked the empty flattery which they deemed acceptable to all women alike. Clara was of that type who esteem these light frivolous sayings as direct insults to her understanding. We had no more quiet, leisure days at Mr. Brown s. He became emerged in Government business, and handed the two young creatures of his charge over to the care and training of society, lie gave the best dinners, and the most excellent -wine graced his table. His doors were thrown open, and the elite of Washington thronged his house. It became the rendezvous for Congressmen, clerks of the departments, army and navy officers, and the beautiful, talented or wealthy women of fashion. Time swept by in a gilded coach of gaiety to deafening music. Clara lived a life now. Her style of beauty, the fact of her being an heiress, and ready wit, combined with capti vating manners, established her as a belle, and she had selected from the brilliant train, some worthy friends. She was floating away with tho tiio away from me. I staid up stairs, except when Clara urged me to come down to entertain callers, and would not lis ten to "no." But it was painful to me, be cause my position ia the family was an un derstood thing among some of these haughty people, and I experienced that cold-shouldered pomposity to which society treats its dead heads. But I had two or three especial call ers : Mrs. Clifford, formerly Miss Nelson, the wife of a Senator, and her sister Minerva, w ho sustained the despoiling effects of the season admirably, and was still looking quite fresh, witli the auxiliary of rouge and the in visible and becoming colors to which she found it necessary to confine herself altogether now, so that she was still the rage among the Con gressmen, turning their heads, although their stony hearts had not yctsurrenderej to her charms. They courted nty friendship, and I am sure I was grateful then. I learned from Minerva that Mr. Asbury had sailed for Eu rope, but would be in correspondence with her. I also interred they were engaged, although the time of their marriage had not been set tled yet . I wondered why she had made me her confidant, but I h id so little opportunity of spreading the rumor, if it had pleased me to start it, that I supposed she thought she might trust me with her secret. I congratu lated her, and she blushed and looked sin cerely happy, for she loved Mr. Asbury to the extent of her capacity. After she was gone I escaped to my room, and sat quietly with my hands folded on my lap. The sight of books, and the sound of music, the scent of mignonette and geranium in fragrance from the vase of flowers, and the subdued wintery sunlight through the crimson curtains stifled me. I could hear Mr. Charles singing in the drawing-room below, Mr. As bury s favorite, " Y'ou'll Kemember Me; " the voice rang outdistinctly " When hollow hearts shall wear a mask," so that I seized paper and pencil and sought to drown the sounds that echoed to me long after he had closed the in strument. In working over one of our old problems in Geometry, but it had lost the fa cility to puzzle me, Mrs. Moreland came to tell me that the cook's little girl was very ill of fever. I hurried to ber bed-side, and took charge of her day and night until the crisis was passed, filling up any spare time I had in working some needed additions to her wardrobe. After that I returned Minerva's call, and we talked over Mr. Asbury with per fect ease. We became very intimate. She was so kind to me, paying so much partioular attention that it became a matter of self-reproach that I could not entirely reciprocate the affection she betrayed. Still I became ac customed to going there when I seemed com fortless, or was drowned down in-the depth of ennui, and she always extended a helping hand. Clara was occupied, or was blue her self, for the world of pleasure was at times d'siblurionnre that I could not trouble her with my dismals, and in fact there had come un willingly, alittlerescrve between us, although we wore our rings still. I had half a mind to ask her to leave mine off, only because it looked so insignificant, and then in company with the rich, heavy work that encompassed her costly jewels, and, worse than that, it was old-fashioned. But. I was afraid nf offending my Lest friends, and entertained misgivings as to my being able to give ber's up. 1 wore it on the linger tho Romans devoted to pledges of affection, and there was a nerve in my heart, that was terribly shaken when I prac ticed In mvsi-lf thedrr.wing of it off. It. is on my finger to-day. and it is worn quite thin. and w hoever of those whom I love, who shall stand over me r.t the Inst, will see that it is left with me in my coffin. So I went to Min erva when I was out of sorts. Iier life ap peared so calm and unruffled. She was well contented with her lot, ber circumstances and all things iu general ; but it would have been a shame if she were not, because "her lines had fallen in pleasant places" and she knew no dissatitied longing, no aspirations going out toward the unattainable. The an ticipations, aiias and desires of her life were nil Inltilled. In; was wont to meet with that placid smile which quelled the p tu ne.t, spirit ' within me. Her voice bad always that low, ! measured accent that no amcr hastened, no j so'-row broke. !-he was a most excellent dis ! i-ipliued woman; she allowed II UO of the triv- ia! anuoyan.es of life toni.:ni;est themselves ! in ii -r usual in .ntH-r, lest they d-tract from j the dignity of her general demeanor, and she ; was secured from the brightening e fleets that ; any misfortune, could east upon her by the i equanimity of tt rol l disposition, that even the j death of what she loved best, would h ive been ! ineffectual in changing nil iota in that equal I ti-.npernmciit. But it did not oppress me then, I it. rather soothed my perturbed spirit like au ' opiate. 1 us.-d to come away considerably . brightened, as I did on one particular day: when turning aside unconsciously into a street leading to tie park, and the day was so cal;u and bright ; such an anomaly for the winter, as spring had turned back and kissed the stern old man with her red young lips on the forehead. There were so many people there; with a s-id b-n impulse I entered. I had strolled leisurely about for some time, tvii.-n I une neross two Ii rures standin; be j side tin- fto'.en fountain. Their backs were tonard me, bin they riveted my attenriou iu an iinaei-oiiiital.lo lit inner, t'ni' was a 'heavy-set mm, whose dure was like ; but one is apt to see a resemblance -in figures as to reci-nize similar tones iu voices. The other va a ! t ;u : n ul i ve. girli'i figure, elad in a tra v"'itig dees, that :eeni'-'l familiar. i ! j I knew no one whose head was crowned by such a wealth of golden curls as fell over her shoulders they tormented me with a desire to behold the face which was concealed from me by an aggravating blue vail. But ugly faces frequently accompany curls. I consoled myself. I would not intrude. Besides, they were lovers, it was evident in the manner in which she clung to his arm, and his firm clasp of the little hand that lay there, and the in audible tones in which they spoke. I felt it was not for me to turn eaves-dropper, and with an earnest wish yes, I made the wish an entreaty, a prayer that God would bless their love to them, I turned homeward with that womanly aching sense of a void within my own heart. I forgot the lovers when I reached home, in the bustle and confusion upon Marion Burton's unexpected arrival. Mrs. Brown said Marion's letter, which cer tainly was, a3 Mr. Brown had said, beautiful in point of eomposition and penmanship, in which she stated her intention of visiting them, had slipped her memory, although she believed Mr. Brown had referred tit oasouie two or three occasions. [TO RE CONTINUED.] A Cry from the Army. A cry from starving Ireland Was borne across the sea, And many hearts were melted oy That wail of agony. Soon white-sailed vessels, outward bound, Laden with bread were seen; And plenty reigned in that fair la ad, Where famine late had been. And there lives no true Irishman Who will not proudly say, Whene'er he hears this story told, " God bless America I " On Britain's isle not long ago, Gaunt famine reared its head ; And parents wept, as round them rose Their children's cry for bread. Again our Western land set forth, A messenger of peacfr A noble ship whose tnoble freight Made cries of hungci; cease; .: And Albion's sons will ne'er forget Until Time's latest day . . . The ship which brought her starving poor Bread from America. Another cry is heard to-day; It comes not o'er the main; And God forbid that earnest cry Should e'er be made in vain! It comes from those true men and tried, Who felt such stern delight, With Thomas, Garfield, Whitaker, In Chicamauga's fight ; Who in that dark and bloody hour Rolled back the tide of war ; Who bear the tokens of that field In many a glorious scar. It comes from Potomac's side From Rappahannock's flood, Whose waters clear so oft are dyed With true and traitor blood ; From far Arkansas, Tennessee, And from that no.ble host Which Gilmore leads to victory On Carolina's coast: From that proud bulwark of our land, Who guard us with their lives, The cry comes, "Watch you well, we pray, Our mothers, children, wives !" Men of the rich and fertile West, Your lives and lands you owe To those brave men who stand between Your firesides and the foe. And while they face the battle-storm, , For all the heart holds dear, Can you refuse that earnest cry, They utter now, to hear? While fathers, brothers, husbands, sons, Bleed for the nation's weal. Shall mothers, wires, and children dear The pangs of hunger feel ? No ! hands which oft hare ttrangert fed And thus the heart have shown, Will not withhold when such a cry Arises from our own. No ! in our nation's history It never shall be read, That soldier's mother, wife, or child ' Have ever lacked for bread. No! when our noble boys come home, And we around them stand, They shall have reason to ci out, "God bless our native land ! " "Passing away," sighs the breeze and the rill, As they sweep on their course by vale and hill ; Thro' the varying scenes of each earthly clime, Tis the lesson of Nature, the voice of Time, And man at last, like bis fathers gray, Writes on his own dust, " Passing away." Why are potatoes and corn like sinners? Because they have eyes and see not, ears and they hear not. Time, like money, may be lost by unreason able avarice. '"Mcsic hath charms to" tplit rock. A ras cal was, not long since, condemned to labor for stealing a violin. The strongest men in the world are auction i eers, for they have been known to knock down the stoutest-built edifices at one blow. Baxdom thoughts bear a resemblance to wayside tlowers. The silent eye is often a more powerful conqueror than the noisiest tongue. It is from our own hearts, and not from an outward source, that wo draw the lines which color the roiie of our existence. Ambition is a kind of dropsy, the more a man drinks the more he covets. "Fleeting as were the dreams of old, R m lu'uered like a tale that s told, Wc pass away." "Here's to internal improvements," as Tim said when he swallowed a dose of salts. Realiti is but the dregs of the cup, iuiag. ination is the clear red wine. A whisper separateth friends. A man will bear the gout, aud yet be will not let a tly tickle his nose. Love is our highest word, and the synonyme of God. i War is murder set to music. " The gl idness of a smile Hay lend the mask to many a bursting heart ; (if seeming for a while Tho mirthful laugh our fest ive moment wears, May be al host a hollow-acted p ut, Rut on the silent eloquence of tears. Lives truth unsullied by the many modes of art. j FouxrxE and the sun make insects shiiie. ; Ik "time is money," a man ought to be worth something alter serving ten years iu the peu- ; herniary. j Ci'siom in infancy becomes nature iu old age. j Those who hive nothing to do always do: more than they ought. j T.mii.i: of int.'i-e.-it the dinner-table. Mi's:i i-' the silver key to the fountain of. t.vir. Fighting and Praying. There wa3 a time, and not very long ago, when the majority of peopl in civil life took their notions abiit mili tary men from the prnrient English comoJie, of George III.'s period ; when, to be an officer of the army, im plied a code of morals offensive to pub lic taste and domestic happiness, ia which code, if to love your neighbor was not inculcated, to love your neigh bor's wife was. According to -this code, religion- was at a discount, and a praying soldier was a "canting houad." Caricature, as this undoubtedly was, of English society, it has been, at all time, absolutely false of- the American army. A better set of men than, our old army could not be found ia equal numbers taken at random from -any other profession, and among them some of the very best officers have been devoutly religious.'. But it is. not of such men we mean to speak. Our present purpose is to point out l the prevalence of. the religious element among all classes of fighting men ; the fact that those who hold their lives ia their hands, leaving ''senseless -bigots" to fight "for forms of creed," . recognize the God of battles, and pray" for themselves and their country ia the midst of danger. The simplest expression of tbe relatioa of "pray ing a.nd fighting," was, perhaps, the blunt order "Put your trust in God, and keep your powder dry." It is easy to prove what we have said, by refer ence to modern history. The Mussul man humbly obeys the meuzzin's call before he plunges into the fight to. reap glory or gain Paradise and tho Houris. Indeed he rather outstrips the Christain in regularity of prayer. Cromwell and his praying Puritans were dangerous men to meet in battle; the " Sword of the Lord and of Gid eon" was exceeding sharp, tempered as it was with hourly prayers. Nor were the Cavaliers wanting in prayer, although despising the so-called cant of the Roundheads. The king's men repeated their collects for church and king. . . ' " Boys, my brave hoys," said Major Shippen, " pray well and- fight well, and God will certainly give us the victory." "Oh, Lord!" said another, "if I forget thee, as in the press of battle I may, do not thou forget me." There is something sublime in the spectacle of Gustavus Adolphus and his vast army, on the eve of the battle of Lutzen, in which he fell, praying on bended knee, and then chanting " Be of good cheer your cause belongs '1 To lliin who can avenge your wrongs; Leave it to lliin, our Lord." The king fell, hut the battle was gloriously won. It is related of the celebrated sol dier La Hire, that when about to go into battle he sent for the priest to obtain absolution. He was told, to confess. He had no time to go into detail, he said, but he confessed " all the usual sins of a soldier's life." Upon receiving absolution, he made his prayer, as follows : " Oh Lord, do unto me this day as I would unto Thee if I were God and Thou wast La Hire." It sounds harsh to us now, but tho proud old Frenchman thougH he was very devout. Who can ever forget the touching colloquy between my Un cle Toby and Corporal Trim, concern ing the prayers of soldiers. It is elo quent, patriotic and true. Find it, oh reader, in the inestimable Tristram, and enjoy it again. If it Bpeaka vol umes for my uncle and the corporal, it says much also for "our -army ia Flanders," especially considering that )ther accounts may make them "swear terribly. All the world knows that Stonewall Jackson struck harder blows because he prated so much. lie was evidently of the fanatical stamp, and his pray ers were rather dervish-like than in telligible Christian petitions, and yet they fired the men who fought better than any other rebel. Rosecrans, a devout Roman Catholic, just before his designed attack upon Chattanooga, had masses said in all the churches of Cincinnati for the success of his arms. The same solemn spirit pregnant with results! And so it must always be. Before going into battle the foolish, wicked, unmeaning oath is silent j with the bracing of the nerves there goes up a silent prayer for strength and valor and deliverance. The wounded pray to be saved from death ; the dying recall the words ot obi petitions learned in their childhood, and in these broken accents commit their souls to God. On the battle-field of Gettys burg were found broad-strewn, Bibles ami prayer bt oks. Gained in coat bo soms or pockets, they come forth in tho bitter moment, a solace to the wounded and dying, and a proof that the sol diers pray a' will as fiht. All honor and thanks to the worthy chaplains who foster this nolle spirit, and to the philanthropic men who care for tho soldier's interest at home, taking with them, in timely vis.it on battle-iields, and in crowded hospitals, comforts for the poor suffering mortal bodies, and holy books and words of prayers for the well-being of the immortal souls. Army and .Navy Journal. Sn long as a woman inspires love, she is not old. But, what is it to be old? It docs not depend upon the fact that wo have existed during a certain in vsterious number ofyeari which have been allotted to each of us. To bo old, is to have no longer a beauty that charms. If a woman preserves the at tractions of youth until she reaches the age of one hundred years. -lie w ill bo younger than tho woman of twenty who has lost ihcm.