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-W WILLIAM P. COOPER.J maf?agK?u<r'! v-^- ?> i"*j; '''"*'WEffy? 'j.^.4* ttili^ * " dtifli ' WE STAND UPON THE PRINCIPLES OF IMMUTABLE JUSTICE, AND HO HUMAN POWER SHALL DRIVE US FROM OUR P08ITI0H." JIcktOtl. - ? i?>t? ?. . ''M H?VP?:*.|!3K^5 -!? Jl<a^gfc*P .iiwinsM w<m iiM !> v>\ Lu.va ?,?- I fSsi-rf 4<roifi??w?t fcd^fcVs^VwM i >dJ?d'F ""? i r !l~'*~r '??< a""'--- 1 ???.-???? [EDITOR A. PROPRIl VOL. III.?TVO 27. CLARKSBURG, WEDNESDAY, MAY lOth, 1854. ? - V ftiifJ TOI<pi?<? TERMS. Cooper's Clarksburg Register is published in -Clarksburg Va, every Wednesday morning, at *2,00 per annum,In advanco.orat the expiration of tux months from the tune of subscribing; after tJie turmiuatiou of six months 92,SO will invari ably be charged. No subscription received for less than six months. 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The following very interesting article was published many years ago, perhaps twenty, in the Boston Advertiser: Anecdotes connected with the appobilmtnl of Gen. Washington to the Commandof the Army, June 16, 1775: In a manuscript Journal, under the date of November 4th, 1825, I find a re cord of a conversation had with the vene Table John Adams, at that time, relative to the appointment of Gen. Washington. It was in substance as follows: The army were assembled at Cam bridge, Mass., under Gen. Ward, and Congress was sitting at Philadelphia.? Every day arrived new applications in behalf of the army. The country was anxious that Congress should adopt the army, for until they had, it must be con sidered, and was in law considered, on ly as a mob, a band of armed rebels.? The country was placed in circumstances of peculiar delicacy and danger. The struggle had begun, and yet everything was at loose ends. The great trial now seemed to be in this question, who should be commander in Ohief ? It was exceed ingly important, and was felt to be the hinge on which the whole might turn for or against us. The Southern and Middle States, warm and rapid in their zeal, for the most part were jealous of New Eng land, because they felt that the real phy sical force was there. What then, was to be done ? All New England adored General Ward ; he had been in the French war, and had come out laden with laurels. He was a scholar and a gentleman; All the requisite qualifica tions seemed to cluster in him; and it was confidently believed the array could not receive any commander over him. What then was to be done ? Difficulties threatened at every step. The struggle was to be long and bloody. Without union all was lost. Union was strength. The country, and the whole country must come in. One pulsation must beat through all hearts. The cause was one r<nd the arm must be one. The ?members had talked, debated, consider ed and guessed, and yet the docisive step had not been taken. At length, Mr. Adams came to his conclusion, and the manner of develop ing it was nearly as follows : He was walking, one morning, before Congress Ilall, apparently in deep study, when his cousin, Samuel Adams, came up to him and said, "What is the topic with you this morning, cousin V " Oh, the army, the army 1" he replied. " I am determined to go into the hall this morning, and enter into a full detail of the state of the Colonies, in order to show the absolute need of taking some decisive steps. My whole aim will be lo induce Congress to appoint a day for adopting the army as the legal army of these United Colonies in North America ; and then to hint at an election of a commander in chief." <" Well," said Samuel Adams, "I like that, cousin John; but on whom have you fixed as this commander?" "I'll tell you : George "Washington, of Virginia, a member of ithis House." "Oh," replied Samuel Adams, quickly, " that will never do, ne ver, never." " It must do, it shall do," said John, "and for these reasons ; the Southern and Middle States were both loth to enter heartily into the cause, and their arguments are potent; they see that New England holds the physical power in her hands, an I they fear the result.? A New England army, a New England commander, with New England perseve rance, all united, appal them. For this ?ause they hang back. ?" Now, the only way is to allay their -fears and give them nothing to complain -of. This can be done in no other way ' than by appointing a Southern chief over tho force. Then all will feel secure, then all will rush to the standard. This poli cy will blend us in one mass, and that .mass will be resistless." At this, his cousin Samuel, seemed greatly moved. They talked over the ?preliminary circumstances, and John -asked Samuel to second the motion. Mr. Adams went in, took the floor, and put forth all his-etrength in the delinea tions he -had prepared, all aiming at the adoption of the army.- Ue was ready to own the army, appoint a commander, vote supplies and proceed to business. After bis speech, some doubted, some objected,and some feared. His warmth mounted with the occasion, and to all these doubts and hesitations, he replied : " Gentlemen, if this Congress will not adopt tms army before sixteen moons have set. New England will have a Con gress of her own who will adopt it, and she. she will undertake the struggle alone> yes, with a strong arm and clear con ?cience will front the foe, alone.*' This had the desired effect. Thev saw New England was not playing, and was not to be played with, and they agreed to appoint a day. The day was Gxed, It came. Mr. Adams went in,1 took the floor and urged the measure.? It passed, after some debate. The next thing was to get a lawful ar ray, with supplies, <fcc. All looked to Mr. Adams on this occasion; and he was ready.' He took the floor and went into a minute delineation of the character of Gen. Ward,-bestowing on him the epi thets which then belonged to no one else. At the end of this eulogy he said, " but this is not the man I have chosen. He then went into a delineation of the com mander-in-chief, such ps was required by the peculiar situation of the colonies at that juboture; and after he bad presented the qualifications in his strongest lan guage^ and given the reasons for the no mination he was about to make, he said, "Gtntlemen, I know these qualifications are high, but we all know they are need ful at this crisis, in this chief. Does any one dare say they are not to be obtained in this country ? I reply, they are, they reside in one of our own bodies, and he is the person whom I now nominate, Geo. Washington, of Virginia." j Washington,who sat at Mr. Adams' right | hand, was looking him intently in the face, to watch the name he was about to pronounce; and not expecting it would be his own, he sprang from his seat the mo ment he heard it, rushed into an adjoin ing room as quickly as though move d by a shock of electricity. Mr. Adams asked his cousin Sara to move for an adjournment as soon as the nomination was made, in order to give the members time to deliberate in private. They did deliberate, and the result is be fore the world, I asked Mr. Adams, among other questions, the following. you ^er doubt the success of the conflict . ' -No. no," said lie, "not for ajgjwpent. . 1 expected to be hung and quartered, was -caught, but no matter for rily country would be free ; I knew that Vieo. Ill could net.for^e chains long enough and strong enough to reach round these States." ? I'll do it Well There lives in New England a gentle man who gave me the following account of his own life. He was an apprentice in a tin Manufactory. When twenty-one years old ha bad lost his health, so that he was entirely unable to work at his i trade. Wholly destitute of means, he was ! thrown out upon the world, to seek any employment for which he had strength. ?' He said he went out to find employ ment with the determination, that what j ever lie did he would do it well. The first thing he found that he could do, was to | black boots and scour knives in a hotel. This he did, and did it well, as the gen tleman now living would testify. Though the business was low and servile, he did not lay aside his self respect, or allow himself to made mean by his business.? The respect and confidence of his employ I ers were soon secured, and he was advan j ced to a more lucrative and less laborious position. ?' At length his health was restored, and he returned to his legitimate business, which he now carried on extensively. He has accumulated an ample fortune, and is training an interesting family by giving them the best advantages for moral and mental cultivation. He now holds an el evated place in the community where he lives." '? Youn" men who may chance to read the above statement of facts, should mark the secret of success. The man's whole character, of whom I have spoken, was i formed and directed by the determination to do whatever he did, well." ^ " Do the thing you are doing so well that you will be respected in your place, and you may be sure it will be said to you, *' Go up higher." American Association for the Ad vancement of Science.?This association, on Thursday, resolved to make an exer cursion to Mount Vernon. A com j mittee of twenty was also appointed on ! the subject of observing the solar eclipse 1 on the 26th of May. It was also Tesol ! veil to divide the Association into two sections?one to be known as the Mathe matical and Physical, the other as the the Chemical and Geological section. A 1 pa|-er, not merely of scientific but of po 1 pular interest, was read by Liout. Maury ' on a certain species of whale called " The Killer." well known to whalemen, but ! which had escaped the observation of na ! turalists. The Killer is about thirty feet 'lon<', not heavy, yields about five barrels ' of oil, and is especially remarkable for its 'habit of destroying the right whale and j ! the Kamtschatka whale. This it does by j ' surrounding the right whale in numbers, j assailing its head, seizing and rendering | 'its lips, and at length tearing its tongue, from its head, after which it proceeds, more deliberately to feed upon the body. | The most remarkable feature about the Killer whale (of which several rough draw-1 i ings were exhibited ) is its dorsal fin, which j j stands up perpendicularly five feet, and ; is the chief instrument wherewith they assail their prey. Captain Kogers an ex perienced New England whaler had de- J scribed to Lieut. M. the number of species j of whales known to him as 16. Mr. Wal ker testified to seeing on the Coast of Bra zil a Killer whale thirty feet long, hanging to the body of a whale that had been taken. Lieut. Davis had brought the subject to theattention of Professor Agassiz.who pro nounced the Killer to be a distinct species. Several other interesting subjects were discussed, and in the evening, after the delivery of the annual address of Profes sor Pierce, the Association, proceeded in a body to the residence of Secretary Davis. Copper.?The Wytheville Republican states that upon tho western slope of the Blue Ridge, in Floyd county, Va., rich veins of copper ore have been discovered, running through Carroll county. Written for tha Register. WHERE IS HAPPINESS. BT K- HARTTR. I asked a rosy, laughing child, As she gracefully twined a garland wild, If happiness dwelt in her youthful breast, And she felt in h?r heart she was truly blest ? As she tossed asido her waving curls, A tear dimmed the eye of the laughing girl. I asked of one in the prime of youth, With a deep blue eyo and a brow of truth, If sporting among youth's fragrant flowers, She knew she was passing her happiest hours? She answered that sorrow had crossed her pathway, But she saw in tho future a happier day. I asked the mother, whose music mild Was lulling to sleep her darling child, If happiness pure, were not her lot, And the sorrows of childhood all forgot 1 She answered, as closely her babo she clasped, Tho joys of my childhood, they are past, they are past. I asked the matron, whoso snowy locks Told rai ny a year had come and fled, If happiness true, she had ever found. She gazed with a vacant stare around, As if naught on carlh could her spirit bless, And vaiu was the search for happiness I asked my heart in its lone retreat, As I listened to hoar IU fearful beat, If happin-;ss ever it hoped to find From earthly sin and sorrow refined ? And the silent answer each boating gave, Was * happiness dwells beyond the grave.' Then dark as an earthly tomb inay seem, And cold tho turf iu its verdant green, That will o'er ine lie, whon life is past, And keen may blow the howling blast, I will welcome the hour whon each.&t^le shall be sWtr-**" " "Sslllk * And atIjappines*' fount I may:drll$k4iaijkfili.. LONGEST NIGHT IN A tfp^. BY CHARLES DICKKXS. It was one of those old fashioned win ters in the days of the Georges, when the snow lay on the ground for weeks, when railways were unknoyaraLAhe electrics telegraph had notheen dr&amed of, save by speculative Countess of Lon don. -The mails had been irregular for a month past, and tho letter bags which did reach the post-office, had been brought thither with difficulty: The newspapers were devoid of all foreign in telligence, the metropolis knew nothing I of the provinces, and the provinces knew little more of the doings of the metropo lis, but the columns of both were crowd ed with accidents from the Inclemcncy of the weather with heart-rending accounts of starvation and destitution, with won derful escapes of adventurous travelers, and still more adventurous mail coach men and guards. Business was almost at a stand still, or was only carried on by (its and starts ; families were made un easy by the frequent long silence of their absent members, and the poor were suf fering great misery from cold and fa mine. The south road had been blocked up for nearly a month, when a partial thaw almost caused a public rejoicing ; ooaclies began to run, letters to be dispatched and delivered, and wentherboarded travelers to have some hope of reaching their des tination. Amon^ the first ladies who undertook the journey from the west of Scotland to Loudon at this time, was a certain Miss Stirling, who had for weeks past, desired to reach the metropolis. Her friends as suied her that it was a foolhardy attempt, and told her of travelers who had been twice, nay three times snowed up on their way to town ; but their advice and warn ings were of no avail ; Miss Stirling's bu siness was urgent?it concerned others more than herself, and she was not one to be detoired by personal discomfort or by physical difficulties from doing what she thought was right. She kept to her purpose, and early in February took her seat in the mail for London, being the only passenger who was booked for the whole journey. The thaw had continued for some days, the roads, though heavy, were open; and with the aid of extra horses here and there the first half of the journey was per formed pretty easy, though tediously. The second day was more trying than the first; the wind blew keenly and pe netrated every crevice of the coach; the partial thaw had but slightly effected the wild moorland they had to cross ; thick, heavy clouds were gathering round the red, rayless sun ; and when reaching a roadside inn the snow began to fall fast, both tho guard and the coachman urged their solitary passenger to remain there for the night, instead of tempting the dis comforts, and perhaps the perils of the next stage?Miss Sterling hesitated for a moment, but the little inn looked by no means a pleasant place to be snowed up in, so she resisted their entreaties, and gathering her furs more closely round her, she nestled herself in a corner of the coach. Thus for a time she lost all con sciousness of outward things in sleep. A sudden lunch awoke her ; and she soon learned that they bad stuck fast in a snow-drift, and that no efforts of the tired horses could extricate the coach from its unpleasant predicament. The guard, mounting one of the leaders, set off in search of assistance, while the coachman comforted Miss Sterling, by telling her that as nearly as they could calculate, they were only within a mile or two from " the Squire's," and that if the guard could find the way to the Squire's, the Squire was certain to come and rescue them with his sledge. It was not the first time that the Squire had got the mail bags out of the snow wreath by that means. The coachman's expectations were ful filled, and within an hour the distant tink ling of sledge bells were heard, and lights were ?een gleaming afar ; they ra pidly advanced nearer knd nearer, and soon a hearty voice was heard hailing them. A party of men with lanterns and shovels cams to their assistance, a strong arm lifted Miss Stirling from the coach, and supported her trembling steps to a sledge close at hand, and almost before she knew where she was, she found her jself in a huge hall, brilliantly lighted by I a blazing wood fire. Numbers of rosy glowing faces were gathered around her, numbers of bright, eager pyes were ga zing curiously upon her?kindly hands were busied in removing her wraps, and pleasant voices welcomed her and con gratulated her on her escape'. " Ay, ay, Mary," said the host ad dressing his wife ;? 'I told you that the sleigh would have plenty of work this winter, and you see I was right." " As you always are, uncle," a merry voice exclaimed. " We all say at Haw tree, that Uncle Atherton never can be wrong." " Atherton ! Hawtree !" repeated Miss Stirling, in some amazement, "uttered in that familiar voice 1 Ellen ! Ellen Mid dleton, is it possible, indeed that you are here ?" A joyful exclamation and a rush into her arms, was the young girl's ready re ply to this question as she cried, "Uncle Atherton, Aunt Mary, don't you know your old friend, Miss Stirling ?" Mrs. Atherton fixed her soft,'blue eyes on the stranger, in whom she could at first scarcely recognize the bright-haired girl whom she had not seen for eighteen or twenty years ; but by and by, she sa tisfied herself that, though ch?nt(ed, she was Ellen Stirling, still, with the eame sunny smile, and the same laughing eyes that had made every one love her in her school-days. Heartfelt, indeed, were the greetings which followed, and cordial the welcome Mrs. Athertou gave her she congratulated herself on na(Tnj* Ellen under her own roof, more especial ly, as she owed this good fortune to Mr. Atherton's exertions in rescuing her. " It is the merest chance, too, that he is at homo at present," said she, " h^ ought to have been in Scotland, bu(T :thel state of the roads in this bleak isountrj* has kept him a prisoner here for several weeks." "And others as well," Ellen Middle ton udded, "but both children and grown' people are only to be thankful to have so good an excuse for staying longer at Bellit'ld." And then laughing, she ask ed Auut Mary how she meant to dispose of Miss Stirling for the night, for the house was as full already as it could hold. " Oh," said her Aunt, we shall ma nage that very well. Belfield is very elastic." Siie smiled as she spoke, but it struck Miss Stirling th^t the question was ne vertheless a puzzling one, so she took the first opportunity to entreat her to take no trouble on her account ; a chair by the fire was really all the accommodation she eared for, as she wished to be in readiness to pursue her journey as soon as the coach could proceed. " We shall be able to do better for you than that, Ellen," Mrs. Atherton answer ed, cheerfully. " I cannot, it is true, promise you a 'state-room' for every bed in this house is full, and I know you will not allow any one to be moved for your convenience ; but I have one chamber still at your ser vice, which, except in one respect, is comfortable enough." " Haunted, of course." said Miss Stir ?ling, gaily. ; " Oh, no, no, it is not that. I had it fitted up for myfTrother William, when he used to be here more frequently than of late, and is often occupied by gentlemen when the house is full ; but, as it is de tached from the house, I have of course, never asked any lady to sleep there till now." " Oh ! if that be all; I am quite willing to become its first lady tenant," said Miss Stirling, heartily. So the matter was set tled, and orders were given to prepare the Pavillion for the unexpected guest. The evening passed pleasantly; music, dancing, and ghost stories made the I hours fly fast. It was long past ten?the ! usual hour of retiring at Belfield?when j Miss Stirling under the guidance of her hostess, took possession of her out-door chamber. It really was a pleasant, cheerful little apartment. The crim<on hangings of the bed and window looked warm and comfortable in the flashing fire-light; and when the candles on the mantle-piece were lighted, and the two easy chairs drawn close to the hearth, the long parted friends found it impossible to resist the temptation of sitting down to have, what in old days they used to call 'a j two-handed chat.' There was much to tell of what had befallen both, of che quered scenes of joy and sorrow, deeply interesting to those two, whose youth had been passed together ; there were mutual j recollections of school-days to be talked i over ; mutual friends and future plans to: be discussed ; and midnight rang out from the stable clock before Mrs. Ather ton said 'good night.' She had already crossed the threshold to go, when she turned back to say, 'I forgot to tell yon, Ellen, that the inside bar of this door is not very secure, and that the key only turns outside. Are you inclined to tr03t to the bar alone, or will you, as Wil liam used to do, have the door locked out side, and let the servant bring the key in the morning. William used to say that he found it rather an advantage to do so, as the unlocking of the door was sore to wake him." Miss Stirling laughably allowed that though, generally, she could not quite think it an advantage to be locked into her room, still she had no objection to it on this particular occasion, as she wishe d to rise in reasonable time, " Very well ; then yoa had better not fasten the bar at all, and I will send my maid with the key at eight, precisely.? Good night." ?' Good night." They parted ; the door was locked out side ; the key was taken out; and Miss Stirling, standing by the window, watch ed her friend cross the narrow, black path, which had been swept clear of snow io make a dry passage from the house to the pavilion. A ruddy light streamed from the hall door as it opened to admit its mistress, and gave a cheerful, friend ly aspect to the scene; but when the door closed and shutout that warm, comforta ble light, the darkened porch, the pale moonlight shimmering- on the crowded trees, and the stars twinkling in the fros ty firmament, had such an aspect of so litude, as to cast over her a kind of chill, and made her half repent having con sented to quit the house at all, and let herself be locked up in this lonely place. Yet what had she to fear? No harm could happen to her from within the chamber; the door was safely locked out side, and strong iron stancheons guar?e? the windows ; there could be no possible danger. So drawing her chair once more to the Gre, and stirring it into a brighter blaze, she took up a little Bible which lay on the dressing table, and read some por tion of the New Testament. When she laid down the book, she took out the comb that fastened her long, dark, silken tresses-in which, deJl? her five and thirly years, not a silver thread was visible?and as she arranged them for the night, her thoughts back to the old world memories which her meeting with Mary Atherton lmdrevived. The sound of the clock striking two was the Sr?t thing that recalled her to the pre ]ife By this time the candles were 1C ?? Stag""S""e: ifeil upon the dressing-glass, and in itti rc ?fflTction she saw the bed-curtains movc She stood for a moment gazing at the mirror, expecting a repetition of the movement, but all was still, a - blamed herself for allowing nervous fears fcj Overcome her. Still it was an exertion iven of her brave spirit, to approach the bed and withdraw the curtains. She was rewarded by finding nothing, save the bed clothes folded neatly down, as if in viting her to press the snow white sheets, and a luxurious pile of pillows that look ed most tempting. She could not resist the temptation to rest her wearied limbs Allowing herself no time for farther doubts or fears, she placed her candle on the mantle-piece, and stepped mtobcd. She was very tired, her eyes aohed with weariness, but sleep seemed to fly from her. Old recollections thronged on her memory; thoughts connected with the busTness she had still to get through haunted her; and difficulties that had not occurred to her till now. rose up before her She was restless and feverish , and the vexation of feeling so made her more wakeful. Perhaps, if she were to close the curtains between her and the fire, she might better be able to sleep? the flickering light disturbed her, and the moonbeams stealing between the window curtains, cast ghostly shadows on the wall. So she carefully shut the light out on that side, and turned to sleep. Whe ther she had or had not quite lost con sciousness, she could not well remember but she was soon thoroughly aroused by feelin? the bed heave under her. She startled up and awaited with a beating heart a repetition of the morement. but it did not come. I- must have been a re turn of the nervous fancies which baa twice assailed her that night. Laying her head once more on the pillow, she determined to control her groundless ter r? Again she started up. This time there coula be no doubt; the bed had heaved more than once, accompanied by a strange gurgling sound, as if of a creature in pain Leaning on her elbow, she listened with that intensity of fear which desires almost as much as it dreads a recurrence of the sound which caused it. It came again, followed by a loud burstling noise, as ir some heavy body were dragged from un der the bed in the direction of tha fire. What could it be ? She longed to call out for help, but her tongue clave to the roof of her mouth, and the pulses in her temples throbbed until she felt as if their , painful beating sounded in the silence of the night like the loud tick of a c}<**? The unseen thing dragged itself along until it reached the hearib-rug. where it flun-r itself down with violence. As it did so. she heard it, for it occurred to her that the creature might be nothing worse than the house dog. who having broken his chain, had sought shelter beneath the bed in the warm room. Even this no tion was disagreeable enough, but it was nothing to the vagae terror which had hi-. therto oppressed her. She pe^uaded . herself that if she lay quiet no barm ( would happen to her, and the night would soon pass over. Thus reasoning, she laid herself down again. By-and-by. the creature began to snore! and it struck her fevensh fancy that the snoring was not like lha.ofa dog. After a littie time, she raised herse^ gently, and with trembling hands drew b ick an inch or two of the curtain, and peeped out. thinking that any cert^^J ; was better than such terrible suspense. She looked towards the fire-place, and fh"',] ??o?gh, lb. lav?a brown, hairy mass, but of what ) shape, it was impossible to divine, so fi ??. ful was the light, and so strangely was it, coiled up on the hearth-rug. By-and-by it began to stretch itself out, to open its eye2^bich shone in the flickering ray. of the fire, and to raise its paws .bore its ^CWGodt these are not paws I They -are human hands; and dangling from the wmts hang fragments of brofeen chainfl I Ach01^fhom?r froxe Ellen Surfing* % reins, as a flash of the expiring fire show ed her this clearly?too clearly-?and. the conviction, seised upon her mind that she was shut up with an escaped oouvict-j An inward invocation to Heaven for aid rose from her heart, as. with the whole force of her intellect she endeavored to survey the danger of her position, and to think of the most persuasive words she could use to the man into whose power she had fallen. For the present, however she must be still, very still?she must make no movements to betray hersell and perhaps he might overlook her P1*" sence until daylight came, and with it, possible help?the night must be far spent?she must wait and hope. She had not to wait long. The crea ture moved again?stood upright?stag gered towards the bed. For cne mo ment?one dreadful moment she *aw his face, pinched features, his flashing eyes, his bristling hair; but, thank he did not see her. She shrunk behind the curtains?he advanced toward the bed, slowlv?hesitatingly, and the clank in^ sound of the broken chains fell me nacingly on her ear. He laid his hands upon the curtain, and for a few moments fumbled to find the opening. These mo ments were all in all to Ellen Stirling.? Despair sharpened her senses; she found that the other side of the bed was not so close against the walls but that she could pass between. Into the narrow spaoe between, she contrived to slip noiselessly. She had hardly accomplished the diffi cult feat, and sheltered herself behind the curtains, when the creature flung itself on the bed, and drawing the bed clothes around it, uttered a noise more like the whinning of a horse than the laugh of a human being. _ . For some little time Miss Sterling stood in her narrow hiding-place, trembling with cold and terror, fearful lest some un guarded movement might betray her, and brine down on her a fate Bhe dared not contemplate. She lifted up her heart in prayer for courage; and when her compo sure had in some degree returned, it curred to her that if she could but reach the window, sho might from that position possibly attraot the attention of some pas ser by, and be released from her terrible endurance. Very cautiously she attempted the pe rilous experiment, her bare feet moved noiselessly across tho floor, and a friend ly ray of moonlight guided her safely to wards the window. As she put her hand toward the curtain her heart gavo a fresh bound of terror, for it came in contact with something soft and warm. iyt length, however, she remembered lhatshe had* flung down her lur cloak in that-spot, and it was a mercy to her that sho fell upon it now, when she was chillod to the bono. She wrapped it round her, and reached tl?o window without further ad venture, or any alarm from the occupant of the bed, whose heavy, regular breath ing gave assurance that ho was now sound asTeep. This was some comfort, and she greatly needed it. The lookout from the window was anything but inspiriting. The stars still shone peacefully upon the sleeping earth?tho moon still show ed her pallid visage; not a sight or sound presaged dawn ; and after long listening in vain for any sign of life in the outer world, she heard the stable clock strike four. Only four. She felt as if it were impossible to sur vive even another hour of terror, such as she had just passed through. Was there no hope t 8he tried to support herself against the window frame, but her first touch caused it to shake and creak in a manner that seemed to her starilingly loud ; she fan cied that the creature moved uneasily on its bed at the sound. Drops of agony fell from her brow, as minulo after minute wore heavily on ; ever and anon a rustle of the bed-clothes, or a slight clank of the manacled hands, sent a renewed chill to her heart. The clock struok five. ? . Still all without was silent. Suddenly a man's whistle was heard in the court and the driver of the mail coach, lantern in hand, crossed the yard towards the pavilion. Would to God she could cal him, or in any way attract his attentipo ? but she dared not make the slightest, sonnd. He looked up at the window against which he almost brushed in pas sing; and the light he held flashed on Miss Sterling's crouched figure. He paused, looked again, and seemed about To speak, when she hastily made signs to bim that he should be silent, but seek as?j sistance at the house. He gave her a glance of intelligence, and then hastened How long bis absence seemed ! Could he have understood ber ? The occupant of the bed was growing every instant more and more restless : he was rlsl"o from the bed?he was groping round the room. They would come loo la'.o, loo late ! , But no ! steps in the court yard?the key turning in the lock?the door opened ?then, with a yell that rang in Ellen Stirling's ear until her dying day. She creature rushed to her hiding-place, dMh ed the slight window-frame to pieces, and finding himself foiled in his proposed es cape. by the strength of the iron bars outside, turned, like a wild beast on bis pursuers. She was the first on whom his^ glance fell. He clasped her throat; bis fa.ee was close to hers , bisghlfenoi eyes were glaring at ber in frenj-J?when * blow frotp behind felled him. She awoke from her long swoon, to find herself safe in Mrs! Atherton ? dres sing room, and to bear thst no one was hurt but the poor maniap, and that he was asrain in the charge of his keepers, from whom he had escaped but* few boar. bef fore. " A few hours! B?t.He*T?a&>j wild of tbe isr-awis i * ?.? _ Aw.