Harper's Weekly—February 14, 1863

VeL VH.--No. 320.]

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NEW YORK, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1863. [.~~i,'';;~~~'!ff,is,~Pi8.(i'X"J~:,. ;,~f('0npr~~- i-:0n~_Y~~~~_2:i:~J~~r~ "::__~~~~-~~·~~ t-~~~~~~ic!~ e!_!?e D~~!_?ourt ~th~ -~o~~~ Di~tric~~-~c·~-~i~-==------=-:.-::::..=--::-..=~---~

98

[F'EDllUARY

ONLY ONE 1\fAN KILLED TO~DAY. TrtERE are tears and sob:J in the little brown hou~e On the hill-side slope to-day; Though the l:'UUlight gleams on tho outer world There the douds drift cold and gray.

•• Only one man killell," so the tidin~s rfad••Our loas w~s trifling: we triumphed," 'twas saidAnd only here in the home on the hill, Did the wor~ breathe aught but of triumph still.

They had watched and waited, had. prayed and wept, Those loving henrts by the eottng:e hear~h, And the hope was strong tlult thdr darling would walk Unscathed and safe 'mid the battle's wmth.

They would gladly have shielded his life frvm ill, nut their trust was all in their r!i.tlWr's wHl; 'l'hey had felt so sure His love would srwe The pride of their hBM1S from a soldier's grave.

Now His wisdom had ordered what most they feared, And their hearts are crnslled by the n0\'1'5 to-day, "Only one man killed" -BO the telef,;'ram roadsBut for them life'~ beHnty has passed away; And all the glory and triumpb g:cined Seems a matter small to UF~ woe b\oo<l-,,tai.ned, That in llOlTowfnl strokes, like a tolling bell, Throbs u Only one man killeU," as a funeml knelL

u~~1 r0JZic~~~a~i~~:·~~: 00 :eo~·;a~~,I;1~;a~ft~mall; meanwhile that some loving heatt Felt all the force or that murderom ball.

Forgetting

~~en~0:0n~~~:n,;~~~d~~~~~~;~~~sl~~:: ~gnin: ~·Only

one man killed," carries so1·row for life To thooe who~e darlings fall in the strife.

STILL Rrv:en., MAss. A.?!{. L.

HARPER's WEEKLy. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY

The people of France, whose organ and exec.

a man who is an ardent secessionist, and takes

utivc is the Emperor Napoleon, arc very different in temper and disposition from the English.

Frenchmen, as a rule, never barter principle for gain. An Engli6hman will sell his most chcrishcd dogma for an advance of one per cent. on his goods; they arc, as Napoleon truly said, a nation of shop-keepers. Frenchmen, on the eontrary, though flighty and idealists, are never

no pains to conceal it. And~ like all powerful monarchs, he has at his court at the 'l'uileries men of base origin and corrupt instincts, who have proved readily accessible to the rebel emissaries, and have earned their hire by abusing us in semi-official joumals. But no man, with all the fac.ts before him, can honestly declare that the Emlleror has been our enemy.

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14, 1868.

is a pity, but it is unavoidable, that personal accusation and acerbity should mingle in discussions which might be entirely impersonal. Mr. Weed has not been spal'ed, neither has he spared, in such acrimonious ccntcsts. His retirement is therefore the more magnanimous.

'Yith winning personal traits that no party lis.. perity dcn.ie.s-:-whh comfort secured by long SPrY~ ice in his profession-with the ngr!'cable conscious~ nes.s, to a man amhitions of the ::ulJstance rather ~Iwn the show v.: ~cwt:r, that be liaS playe(l a more mfluential part in the political history of this State during the hst dozon years than anv othe-r manwith the kindest regard of hi<> assodai:es audfriends -lHr. "'.,.ced turnR away from the great arena of public affairs. But, like Sir Wil!iam Temple, who retired to his garden and libral'V in the dark dun of the revolutionary periorl in .Engbnrl, but CEnfle forth again when summoned bv his cotmtry w Mr '~'ced b.olds himse~f ready to ;erve, when J1~ c.an; Ius count.ry anti Ius friends, while, "so far as all things personal are concerned," his work is done.

tions. They will spend a thousand millions to free Italy, or establish liberal principles in France or Germany. But there is no instance on recol'd whe1·e a bingle well-established principle of French pollcy was sacrificed, or even suspended for a time, for the sake of benefiting the opemtivcs of Lyons, Rauen, St. Etienne, or Paris.

This distinction between them and their British

WHAT is the net result of the ~'Conservative" movement thus far? Its programme was a nwre constitutional method of suppreRsing the rebellipn than that of the Administration. Are not the fol-

ncighbors must ever be borne in mind by students of modern French policy. England, after emancipating the slaves., in the Btitish West Indies, and claiming the first rank among oppoucnts of human slavery throughout the vmrld, no sooner saw a prospect of a fine market for British manufactures in our Southern Slave States

light, reprinting the "Conservative" spf'eches: as indicative of returning reason on the purt of the Yankees? What do they mean by'' rctuming reason?"

That the rebels delighted in the" Conservative" triumphs at the polls?

cginning ct' the war must be answered has at bst lJeen asked. Shall there be colorc(l soldins? It

th:m she shifted her ground on the slave ques~on, a~tl~~e leading organs. of ~ritish opinion { evote t ell' energies to a JUSti cation of the system of slavery. Not so France. French

Richmond Exm?1iner as proof that the "Lincoln tyranny"-by which is meant t1w LniteU States Government-can not prosecute the war ·with the

the Government lost rather than maintained bv iluch allies, he must answer the question whctheJ., the~, he cares enough for the Government to :light

man of character or influence in Parisian society, has been base enough to depart from the tra-

anarchy, are the action of the party professedly "Conservative?"

diers, while men who havo the mo~t vital intorest in the success of the war are ready to fight. If

tends directly, and is intended, to excite mutiny an~~~::~~c~~:; ~~ ,~~~t~!~~:~i~i;.>~;~~~tion has org<'mized an opposition to the Government, which takes the ground that its policy in the war is unconstitutional, and that goocl citizens ought not to support it; that upon that ground it has dra·wn party lines, so that at this moment the Government hus lust much of that unity of sentiment witl10ut which success is delayed and endangered?

feet high, v.hose regulation weight shalllJe a hundred and ninety pounds. Or it may g:·atify p1'i:1e to have it accomplished only by men wlwse ancestors came over two generations since. Or by the Anglo-Saxon hloorl merely; or by the C"1tic, or by the Teutonic, or by Yolu.nteers who fight for tho loYe of it, and who -"corn bounty.

FOOTIXG 1}1' fu'f ACCO"G~'T.

lo';_!~;t pt~:1 t;e~ :{~'1~~irj:~ ~~t1:~~·emcnt 1

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with de-

TilE I~EVITABLE QUESTIO~. b THE question that every body has seen from the

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t.he

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1m~ )a~:r0k~e~tr1o'hr~nF:r~e,~n10c"h'~fsr1yl8k~r'~'~t1~ni~es~,~g~lo~'';e0s:,~:n~hdt J~e:,~ - the sp!~~~;l~ef t;:: ~!t~eo;' ~:n:~~~~~;·~: Pr~~~:d ~~ ~~~il~~iy~!;:,~:r~:r:~~~, ~~~~a:P!~~~~~~~.fi~~ ng~1r~~~ war order of the President concerning slavery, 1

14, ] 863.

1,

CHARLESTON. y the time this paper reaches its readers

B

Charleston mny, perhaps, attract more ut~ tention than any other point-except, perhaps, Vicksburg. }'or it is suspected that the rebels of South Carolina are going to have another opportunity of proving their devotion to the cause which has Jllunged this continent into the present bloody \Var. At the time we write the great Southern expedition which has been assemLling at Beaufort, North Carolina, must have started, and an army of 35,000 or 40,000 men, '"it.h a fleet of thirty to forty armed vessel;;, must be approach~ .ing-if they have not already reached-their destination. Of course no oue knows whither they are bound. It may be Wilmington, or it may be Savannah, and it may be Charleston.

Among the "sporting fraternity" odds are of~ fered on Charleston; perhaps bcC'ause there pre~ vails so intense a wish to see that accursed city punished for the woes it has brought upon the country. The possession of Charleston would not only gratify a veq general and natural desire on the part of the North, but t}Je moral effect of its capture would be immensa, and in a material point of view it would be important, as it would put an end to most of the contraband trade which is now canied on between the South and Nassau.

Charleston certainly seems anxious to invite attack. On 31st ult., as is stated in dispatches published on next page, the rebels, under Ingraham, made a very vigorous sortie from the port, and, if their accounts arc to be believed, sunk one of our gun-boats-the ..~.11ercedita-and drove off the others, The rebel reporters and officers commanding assert that the blockade ofthe port was actually raised; though on the following day "'at least twenty blockaders 'vere off the bar again." ·whether, in view of this latter fact, Charleston will gain much by tile official proclamation of the reopening of the port seems at least doubtful. :But there can be no doubt but the occurrence of the 31st, however the results may haYC been exaggerated or misrepresented by the rebels, will convince Admiral Dupont and General Hunter of the necessiLy of no longer delaying the long-threa~ened attack on the hotbed of treason. It is in our power to take and destroy Charleston: we hope to be able to announce, before the enU of the month, that we have done so.

THE FRENCH EJ\1PEROR'S POLlCY IN AMERICA. A DT~PATCH from the Emperor Napoleon to General Forey, commanding the French army in ::\:Iexico, has revived the alarms of those 'Yellmeanh1g but ignorant people who have all along expected J.frunce to interfere in our civil ·war has prompted a Senator to move resolutions of inquiry i~to the purposes of the French, and bas furmshed the secession sympathizers of the North with fresh capital wherewith to

a,·,_

tract the Northern mind and shake Northem credtt. The papers me full of dtatnbes agnlflst LQUis ~apoleon, who. is repiesented as being on the pomt of recoglllzmg a co~federacy b~scd on t~e corner-stone of Afncan Sla'\'ery-an mst.itutwn execrated by the French, and of menacing the North, the hereU.itary friend of France, her b~t customer, !lnd her most reliable ally in the eYent of trouble between France and En'gland. \:Ve trust that the subscribers and readers of Harper's Weekly need no instruction from us to enable them to form a correct ·ud ment th subje t J g on e c•

"

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.,

elry in the kingdom of Jefferson Davis.

Vigorous efforts have beep. made by the British press to represent the Emperor Napoleon as the chief enemy of the restoration of the Union. 'I'hese efforts have been seconded lly correspondents of and contributors to American journals, 'vho had doubtless excellent reasons for espousing the Anglo-Rebel view of tho subject. Letter- writers from Paris for British and American journals have repeated at weekIy or monthly intervals stereotyped lies about the Emperor's hostility to the United States;

~1~r~1 ~~:yb~:~:np:l~~!~:~:~~e t~cc~.fo~fi;~e='g!~~ of the Associated Press of New York has done his best to give circulation to these British impositions upon American credulity. And now, in the face of all this lying, what are the facts?

For twelve months after the outbreak of the war the Emperor was never even suspected of being unfriendly to us. He was induced by the English-as we learll from the published volume

sw!~csel~h~~g:h:~e l~~9;]~~er:~;~~~~ i~sb~: 0 ~0~1 ga~;

~:f!~~ ,~~~1 ;~:r c~~e~h~{~:i~~~~:ionB~~ ;~: ~~~~~~~ says what is not true. The Ptc"idvnt, a 3 Commander~in-chief, has decreed the liberation of slaves, by the same power and for the samo purpose that he dect·ees the movement of the armv.

Slavery exists among the l'ebels. It fs a sotll'~e of peculiar slrength to them. By the plain command of common sense the Commander-in-chief is bound to wenken them in every warlike way he

~~tei~oa~}~::1~~:i~1~! ~:.~;~k a!~1 ~1 ~~:~~·~:~~:~~ 81~·~ 1:i~

th:~~d~~~~ti!f~~: s~~~::~i~~~~~~ t~:i~o~!~.~~~~~~ :~~

nation, by .~11 fair wm·1iko means and nt all ('Os"s, you have already virtually l'fllinquishcd the con~ test.

wi;~~~ ?e~~~Ji~~~-en\!\,~~~!n!Jtt~~r~;h~~·::s 7ti~~~: muster. If it rejects u good fighting man because he is a Spaniard, or a Scotchman, or a :Frcnchm£m, or an lris4man, it is gnilty of rrtter folly. If it re-

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climated to the region of t1 1e Y~"al', nud becau~e he has proved himself the most faithful ally, an(l is by

the construction which we placed upon the act., he caused Mr. Dayton to be told that he wou]d have recalled it, but for his conviction that it

use of his slave. And, in aiming to do this, 1le mnst do it in the way most certain to secure the object. If there are ioyal men among the holders, the }'resident must assume their assent to hi& exercising a necessary and lawful power accordhlg to

Now the people are really the Government, nnd, right or wrong, you say that they are bil.terly pn~j~ udiced against the colored ally. Yes i but suppose

would operate to the disadvantage of the insnrgents and to our gain A few months ago he

his discretion.

To say, therefore, that because of the proclarr.n-

~!b~i~l~:~~~g·~~~~~e:fgo~t~~,n~~: ~~n~~~:o~e:~~

ly authorizes him to take ft·.om the same rebel the

~~~:~;;!~~~~:~~1~ ~!::;ost dodlc of soldiers,

then

~;~!, ~~~i~~;~e~~l~~:~p:e~i~~~~~~~~~tJ~~l ~~~~ E:ef:~ '='

::t'el~~~~%~~n~; ~:~· i~~d~~:,~~~;~~. ';~~~;·;~~ ::f.".~~eu:t:u~s a~i;~,s~~ {~~';;!'~, ~\~~~'!,~ t':c~~:; ~z::;,;~::~l:; :~!~~~j~!~F,,~E~:::.~;~:\::~Er~

were ready for a compromise or foreign intervention, and, with prompt candor, he tendered

~~·g !~~~d!:ar~·~~e~~tdt~~eo=~~~u~:g!r::f ~~~

French Government has stated distinctly that it w1:s not designed to operate against the United Strtt.cs in any 'vay, or in favor of the rebels, and the highest official authority in France has borne

~:a;hfs ~~:zl:~~~;:a:~~g~~i~he ~~~e;;~:~t:_;~~

the desolation and emancipation are inevitable in-

Fo;:a~~n;~::~ss~~s~a:f ltJ::1~u:~!~~di:r~.(~r~;i~~~~ ~:

exposes the Government to destruction.

If a man likes the supl'emacy of that party more than the supremacy of the Government-or if he

swcrable argument in the great qmstion to l!ny: ''It may be unjust to depri·•e these men of persenal liberty for no crime but color, but we must take ~~!~~~::Cs et~~:~c~~~tec~ha~~:~;;:ei~: ·with them if

f~c~ :: at~::;;ot~s~:':!!~::~~~t~o;;~!st~~~ :~;:~~~~

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ment.

By a trick similar to that which led the Emperor to concede belligerent rights to the rebels, the British Government beguiled him into the

~~~o;~~:~a~~:!c~~ b!~i;~st~ar~~n~c!~~:~~

would gladly welcome his troops as deliverers and restorers of peace and order. The British

continue to favor the course which Vallandigham, Fernando Wood, andJeftbrsonDavisal1 plam1. But if he loves his country more than a party, order

~~;o;~~nG~~~rr~~~~te~~i:o~~et~~~t~:rie~·: :·!~

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pulse with a slaveholder than interest;

~~':T;~~~i~~!nh;~da~~:r ~; f~~~n~~?~t!~~~i~~o~::~~:·; than tuming to hire his late slave. \Vhat will yon do ·with the facts of the case?"

Granting that th~ facts are as stated, we llano

thing to lJe unconstitutional which is necessary to

~~~~~~e~~~,~~~~~t!~ ~~~ae~~~~ ~i;~e;h~hr.~~,:s~~;

tial to the guarantee of the liberty of all the people.

~l~~?~ t~:~~~~a~n!1~h~~~~:r~.!u:l~~;i~J!~· 0;~i~f'!;!.~

~~~~u~h:o ~~:;~~~~~i~;

:~~ b~~~~:~~~:,d:~oa ~~::~.be;~~ :r:~~h:~:!~ tricky and more consistent, having commenced the campaign, pet·severed in it. It has prOYcd a blunder. The Mexicans have forgotten their internal .funds to unite egainst the common en~ e1uy; and it will need great outlay of money, men, and skill to extricate General Forey's army from its present perplexing predicament. From fhst to last tho Emperor has been endeavoring totliSabuse the Mexicans of the idea that he was their national enemy; and in his last letter to General Forey he endeavors to rouse their pride b p . b . ~s n race, y ta .:nng a out preservmg the eqniibrium bet·een t~e Latin and the Anglo-Saxon races on t us contment. Every one sees easily that this is mere clap-trap, and that the real ob-ject of the Emperor is not conquest, or hostility to the United States, but simply the conclusion of auch a treaty 'vith Mexico as may restore the old friendly relations between that republic and the French empire, and enable the :French to withdraw fl'om Mexico without sacrifice of honor.

In one word the Emperor has said and done nothing as yet'which fairl· 'ust'fies th 1. t tion· that ·he is hostile toJ Js ~. to tl~e ~~~~~O th t h h d d .d ' l ,~· h ~ cot rai-yf. e as o_ne an sm ~nuch tc tmp :es a nendl;r feeling and a des1re to see the Umo~ re-established. Tie has the .n1isfortune ofbemg represented at Washington by

lion, its pncjullic~ would sland against that? Not Unless patriotism and honor are extinct in its heart.

The ob-

cidents of thorough warlike operations.

:; c~~fze~h~~gi<~~~yes~:~=

TH::~o:E:·:DR:::r::~~Tfrom

MR. acth·e public life. By his withdrawal one of the shrewd~ est political managers in our history disappears.

His valedictory address to his friends in the columns of the Et-ening Journal, which he has edited for thirty-two years, is simple, genial, anU pathetic.

He retires at a moment of the greatest public pel·il because be no longer arrrees with the par!'w'hich he has so long served~ 11nd became he doE's not wish to embarrass by constant opposition th(' policv of an Administration which he helped britJL into Power. Yet he makes no new party ties, n~r is it likely he ever will. His old political frienrls are still "my party;" and while he can not think them wise he wishes them God~speecl as he says farewell. ' The simplicity and franknesB of his valedictory disarm criticism. His retirement establishes ~t least the earnest sincerity of his Iuter conr~e. That that course tended to the very result which he so stringently deprecated seems clear enough to us, but does not affect our estimate of his honest conviction. Party vehemence has pursued him with bitter calumny. But he will doubtless sec in tlut very vehemence a tribute to the power he was felt !o wield.. '\\"hen the tl!reat of rebellion ripened mto war, 1t was not strange that men of tl1e same general political sympathy differed upon poiuts of policy. Tho same principles of human nature that create parties divide them; and each division believesthatltsownpolic.Yisessentialtosuccess, It

l

w iniJeace.

Emandpation if declared.

The exi-

I Thus humL·eds of thousands1 of 'lble-bodied men &!e ::~:, ~~]~~~:::~~~;~~ !~~ ~ :it:o:~ ;;q~~~e~~i·;1.;; 1

milital'y force. The rt:en so dept>ndent are iraim'd to obedience. They arc,,:, nature docile 'lnd brave.

They.havc every thing to flgbt for, and they know it. The war has the same desperute carnestnes<~ to them that it has to their late mastrrs. OnH l!icle fights for ,property_: the ot~1er t~r l;fe und 1~be.:1t~ ·._ Is n?t :he solution. pr~vlden"ml. ~ 0 '' c ',),:~ l~tely msist up~n reJectmg s_neh soldwr~ Lec~H·Ee I ~~ some absurd ~heory of ocCiput, and slun-l.Jo;.e~?

I hey are not of the s.amo ~ace. 'I rue; and ~1ctt,her are the Frencll and ~llo InRh; but we do no~ re~('ct ~hem i we are hea;ttly grateful.to get them. 1-TeJ e lS ~letter_, lately m our pos~esswn, -~rom one of the pnvates m the first Sou~h Caruh~a V :Iunt~ers.

He was lately a slave. 'I be lctt.er ~~ ·wntten m ~ ~bap~ly h~nd. Scat·ccly a wor~ 1s nmsp.e11ed.. I~

wanmtelbgentandself-rcspect.mgn~an':'howntes, and he says that of ~oursc he and ~~s frl.enrls must

fight, b:cause there Is no 110.P0 fo; ~hem. f taken.

Let lt he_ 1 ~tt to men, }Jke V a,l~~<h~~am ,and Co:: and WJCt.. Iifc :o emenom a pteJudice th~t a. natton may be dcstioyed.

---"A TALK '\YITH MY PUPILS." IN many a happy household all o~·er the land one of the clearcRt and pleasantest pomts (Jf mem.. ory is the quiet little town of Lenox among the solemn Berkshire hills. It was there for many j years that Mrs. Charles Sedgwick had her l!chool for girls; a.nd now that she has relinquished its.

1

FEBRUARY

14, 1863.]

HARPE'R'S WEEKL'Y.

charge her heart yearns toward aU her scholars, both maid and matron, and she has written, under the name of" A Talk with my Pupils," a truly admirable volnm~ of simple, sPnsible, thoughtful, and friendly suggestions for the life of women. l\:[rs. Sedgwick's great experience and practical wisdom enable her to appreciate perfectly the prop.. er scope of such a work, and she has made herself, in her book~ the friend of many more than her pupils. In fact, she keeps in its pages the mo"t delightful school for all of us, old grizzled Loungers of both sexes, as well as the tender and docile youth around us. The. book is a charming :Family 1\:lanual. It understands the value of the little things which make the great dim~rences in life, and i::; so a home philomphy of good morah anrl manners.

It is as gently didact.ic as such a work can he, and its discourse is so enlivened hy anecdotes drawn frc·m experience that it runs no~ risk of rejection as

bmme upon the Government nor suffered others to do so, but cheerfully assumed aU the responsibility tl1at must necessarily belong to the Genera in command; in every position bearing himself as the most modest anllloyal citizen, the daring and skill· ful soldier, and the frank and generous man.

In the wj}d vortex of contemporary evf'nts it is impossible to know the exact or even relative truth.

1Ye are compelled to see much that we caD. not explain, and which vehement partisan speculations do not help to elucidate. It ic;, ho·wever, an ac. ceptcd law that in war every General must be judged by bis success. For the want of that success, although it may show no want of essential power, but be merely the consequence of uncontrollable circumstances, Fremont, :M'CJe11an, 1\l'Dowell, Pone, and Burnside have disappeared from the stage of war. Political intrigues keep M'Clellan in a publicity which it would be unkind to suppose that he desires. Fortunately for their usefulness no such intrigues have as yet formed about the other GP.nerals. "\Yhcther or not General Burnside takes another command or remains withdrawn for the }Jl'eseut from the public eye, t.he public heart will foliow him with admir,ltion, sympathy, an1l gr:t.titudo.

Ilis are the qualities oCwhich the noblest citizens and the rurest men arc made: ·which, if shared by C"\'ery General in the service, would eoon end distraction, inttigue, and jealousy, and give us the victory.

a dry ethical essay; while it is so penetratt>d with hum:m sympathy as the true seCl'Ot of reall~' fine m:mners that it will not be mistaken for a treatise upon etiquette, Doubtl'"ss, as its p~gf's are read in tlw,;e many happy homes by the husband and father, lw will r.o knger wonder whv the solemn llcrksl1ire hills are so pleasantly remPmhered, whi1e he will gladly acknowledge, what is so oiten forgotten, the temler, sag-aciom! 1 thoughtful influence which, in IDOLllding the girl, modeled the wife and mother.

A SHORT LE1'TER TO .TOHN.

1\fy

DEAR

if any more arbitrary arrests were made 7 the State of New York would be redder with blood tlHm ever Virginia was. Now you are u sen::.ible man, and we can therefore talk together as partisans could not.

By ~rbitrary arrests you mean the suspension of the privilege of the writ of hab<cw; cor-plfS, That tl1<:> power of suspe~1sion is granted by the O:::mstitution you ·will not deny. That, in tte absence of Congress, it may he necessar~· to suspend it, in certnln cases, you wilt agree, That the proper person to do it i:; the President you will allow. That, if Congress justi!if's him in the suspension, tl1e 011ly powers that holcl the right are satisfied you must concede, Then you say that the State <,f New Yol'k is not in rehe1lion, nor is H invaded, and therefore the writ can not be suspended }Jere. The reply is, tlwt the writ is not smp~il{lerl. gf'nerully in the Slate~ but, that tl1e privileg3 of certain citizens of the LnitCfl States resillent here, lo the writ, is s~p~11dcd on the just ground of nution:1l necessity.

J~~A;.hr!r '·ou nor :mv man who is anxious that tlP~ Govem~Jenl. ofthc.Uniterl States shall prevail at every llnzanli\as felt his rights in danger f1·om any arlJitr::try exercise of power. That that. exercio>e !u,;; been always dis<'reet no man will affirm; but that sud1 power must exist he will not deny.

Nor will he coutend that the complaint of its ex;r. che during this war has been founded upon an lwn. est fear of tl1e OYerthrow of the guarantees of lib· ert.y; for we alllmow that the colllplaint has been merely a party cry. \\'hen J~mes Second sent Jeffreys butchering tlmmgh the west of England the Engli,;h people justly complaitwd of the liCril of their rights, But wht·n "\Yill!am Third suspended the writ of habeas corpus, in the recess of Parliament, the same people thanked him for defending their lihcrties. No English historian denies that the)>adiament in the struggle vdth Charles Fir:.t exceeded the constitution~l1imits of its power.

The Parliament itself did not deny it. For the question of the rebellion \Vas wl1ether t11e King should destroy the Constitution, or whether the Parliament should assume powers to save the Constitution. The result was that the British Constitution was unconstitutionall~· saved.

I~ortunately our President is not oUliged to transcend his conc;titutional powers to save the Government, and he has not transcended them. But if he had, und the people saw that the step was Iwnest]y taken and meant to saYe the nation, they would not fail to applaud and indemnify him.

This rebellion is an effort to overthrow by force the.--Government of ti1e United States. That Government is recreant if, under the war power which would be implied if it \Yere not expressed in the Constitution, it does not usc every means1 including emancipation, to conquer the rebels. But the Government can not take any course ·which the people do not app1·ove. If, therefore, the people do 110t upprove the emancipation order, suspension of the privilege of the writ in any case, or they tll'e not willing to take those steps to secure victory, and if, iJecause of their opposition, they dcst_roy the earnest national purpose of success, they directly conspire for national ruin. In other words, they arc resigned to their own destruction. Vfhen you and other grave, moderate men .see that the party malignity 1Yhich calls itself "conservatism" has brought you to the brink of the dilemma of anarchy, or rhe faithful support of the most radical war meas"Un:s for the national existence and civil order, you will regret that you had not earlier seen the alternstive, Let us hope, dear John, that it will not then be too late.

Your dutifnl

A MAN

AND so FortTn,-Thcrn is a young man m the t'nited States army 7 who was born July 4, at 4 o'cloc~ r,M,, at Ko. 44, iu a f'.treet in Boston, 18!4, a 4th chJ!rl 7 has 4 name~, enli~ted into the Newton company, which has jo:ned tile 4th battalion, 44lh regiment, 4th C{lmpany, and on the 4th ot September wa~ appointed 4th corporal, and is now gone forth to deflnd his country.

If all the world wern pudding, And 11ll the sea were sauce" 7 And nll the trees were almourh1 stuck Around it and across; If such a change should happen, \Vhy-then l~cyond all que~tion­ Oh! deary ~ne! there jn~t would be A lot ofmrligcstwn!

The man who took every body's eye mmt have a lot of them. · In nav1gating the sea oflife, carefully avoi<l the breakers-"espc:cially the heart·breakers 7" ~ays old Gnrrrlcr.

At a woman's convention, a gentleman remarked thnt a woman was the mo~t wicked J:.hing in creatiOil. '' t<ir,'' WI!,~ the indignant reply of one of the ladic~, "'woman was made from man, and if one rib i.E so wicked, whatmustthe

be?"--~---

SOARED !NTJTVIDUAL, DODGI!'IG ll'>Ftrll.IAT£n Tit;T.J, llE!IIND

ungrateful bcnst, you 1 You wouldn't Lo~s a con~1stent vegctadan, who never ate beef in hilllifa, would you? !s that the return you make?"

•• You

Dean Swift said of an apothecary, that liis bu-ineog was to pour d1ugs, of which he knew Uut little, into a body, of which Ju knew less. keep water from coming in-Don't pay the 'I.Mtrr------

The first fng1·cdicnt in conversation is truth, the next

good sense, the third good-hurrwr, und the fourth wit.

INTERESTING TO "pARTIE!! IN DIFFWULTIES.' -Every six hours out oft~ hl quarter dU!)· The earth is exceedingly dirty, but the !>Cfl. is >ery Ud.IJ, A l\ioRMON DEFINlTIO~ ~pare rib-A SCCOJl<l wife.

The be~t adheaive label you can put on luggage is to stick to it yourselt: Wlmu is a vessel smaller than a bonnet.?-Vi.hen she's ( rhu author has since had his head shaved.)

Ci..J~·;:,aed..

IRON·JCAL MEM,-An ''old file" is preferable to au "old sere"{ :• . ·· ·-~-DO YOU GIVE IT UP? \Vhy would a Fixth sense be a bore f Because it 1/Jauld be a nuisance (new sense).

It'?- pretty, it's useful in various ways, 'l'hough by it meu often shorten their days; Take one letter from it, and then 'twill appear 'Yhat young Jnen are fond of every day in the year; Take two ietters from it., and then without doubt You will be wltat remains if yon can't find it out.

(][ass-lass-ass.

What.:re~iment was Adam in?

ms.n?

The Bu.ffs.

IDN 'VedneRday, January 28, m the Senate, t!Ie P0~t·

!

l.:'oac:li:ll,o 3

~:h~C~:;~a_;~~! Statea

navfll fore" on this ~tation attacked the Lnited States hlockad~ng ;1e~"t off the hrubOJ' ol:· the city of Charlectou,

g~~~:.~~~;,11~~~;~ f~ t~:~m~~~a~!;~~~mmuuication

or''~~~~.r~~~f~~~~~: t~~~~~:i~~:~~~ c~~rf~~~1o~~-~~~i~~:!

in r1·om the President, IecomnHmding a vote of thanks to Commodorc David 1t. Porter, for his gallantry iu the affair at Arknn~:w Post, wag referred to the Naval Committ.P.e. The

qu~rler, do hereby formally declare the blockade by the United Stat~s ofth1:saidcity of (.;hnrleRton, South €arolinn1

}~0~ ~:~~~~~{ t~i~uj1~~~~~0 ~~-eJ~~t~~:;.;~~~~~~r:if. lStattt G.

i~~~~:, ;~~ ~e~i~~~r~ssi~~; w;~~~:a1~£~~n:~~\~~~~\~f:i~~~~; ~;~e e~~~~~~Po~i~~e0~ 1~~~~~~tii: :Ji!~~~~\s~~;rt~:?cs~!:~:·

Flag,llffim Mmmandlng NavtH

~e~e~~:l~w~~~lng.

F!>~e~k~;_~~hAg~~

Official: THO liAS J OUlWAN, Chid of Statl A Charleston di~patcll, dat!:d l.'!t February, says: Ye,terd:JyafternoonGenero.lBenurcgardplnccdasteam· er at the d:iEposal of the foreign consuls to see fer them. selws that no blockade existed: The French and Spnni~h Uonsuls, acrompanied by Gen•

and finally, on mo~.iun of Senator l-I!mi,;, the bill was re~ committcrl to the Judiciary Colllmittee. After an cxw ecutivo sCRRion the Senate mljourncd.-In the Houoe 7 a joint resolution for the appointplent of Commissioner:; to revise and codify the laws was reported, as was also a bill

~~l~~~~~~~~i~~;o~~:t~~~;rte! ti ~~k\~Pa;~p~-~~ri~~~~! ~~~~t~e~,o~ ~~~~~rtl~~ W~~it~~l~I~il ;;: ~~~~~rUP~t~~~}· 0

t:ommittee, A resolution was adopted that the Genernl~ in-Uhief inform the Honse whether paroles have oeen gt'antcd" to uny rebel officers cnptured l.Jy the anny of the United States since the proclamation of Jeffer;;oll Davis refnoing }mroles or e::;:clumgcs to capture(l Union officers. 'l'he rema.inder of the sc~sion "IHts devoted to debate on tho hill anthorizing the employment ofnrgroes as ~oldicrs, On S:.t.tnrday, :n~t, in the Senate, the ~aval Uommittro reported back the joint re"ohttion tendering- the thanks of Congres~ to Commander John L. 'Vorden for good ronduct in the conflict between the !Jlonifor ttnd the Merrimac.

The resolution was adopted. The ~arne committee reported hack the joint resolution tendering the thanks of Uonf,_'1.'elill to Uommo:lort-s J.<tmes L, Lardner7 Ch!•rl~s 11.

Daviil, J. H, Dahigren, Srephen C. Rowan, David D. Porter, anol S. H. SLringham, with an urucndmcut ~triki ::g out the name of (;ommodo\'e I..ardn~r, not f:~r any thing derogatory to him, bnt became of the rule t~J give no th::..r.ks

~~~~~~~{f;~\~~0}~~~~~~:; ;f~~1~~r~I~~l~~~~~·t:l~~~~~-ar~~ 1

1

had previomly gone five mile>J beyond the usual ancho ~ of the blockaders and could see nothing of them with glasses, Late in the evenii~gfcur blockaders rcaplJeared, keeping far out. 'i'his E\'Cnmg n large number oi.blockadcr;;~ are in flight, but keep steam up 7 evidently rPady to run. agt~

"l'lm l'llOSPI':C'J' AT VICKSBURG.

,.1\IO~TAUK"

I

Tim j]{(;12tr,nk

The iron.rlrul

A'l" WORK.

Bf~m,; to han ha(la fight with

~A\e w~:g!~~~i~~k:~x~~~;~' ~~~u!~~i~~~l[J~~·o~Il~~:.~~ ~~:~;e ~~~~~,~~\~\~~1~ ~~::J~i~f[j~; i~~l~~~~g?gN.~ 117!fiu~\:e~jc~~~~

ment.-1'he ~e~sion of the Honse was taken up with de~ bate on the bill authorizing the organization of negro0s as soldicril.

On "Monday, February 2, in the Senate, a comnmnica· tion wa~ 1·eceived from the Prebhlent of the Smith~onian Institution, suggesting that George E. Dadgcr, ot !\ort.h Carolina, ought no longer to be a member of the Board of R<'gents, ns he h:td not attended any·of tile meetings, aud was, moteol'er, in the rebel 5.rmy. The petition of Madhon Y. Johnson was pre~ented, setting forth that l!e was arrested in August last by order of the Secretary of 'Var, and imprisoned unt.il the 18th of September, and that no reason was ever assigned for the arre.~t or di~~ charge. Senator Riehardoon moved for a self'et committee to inquire into the fact», but the petition vr11s laid ou the table by a vote of 22 against Hi. The Judiciary (i(mnnit· tee reported back the bill grnnting pecuniary aid to Mi.~eouri in emancipating slnvt'S. The Paymaster General was directed to inform the Senate what payment~, if any, were made to the army up to the Slst of Angust, n.nd, if

::t.w~~~emb~fte~:~i~~"~~~~~rf:t~~~~ f~~ =~~~n~i~~~r;~~=

islative, and jadicial o'XllODSeS wa<> pa~Hed, 1<-Ud the flena1.e adjourned.-In the Hon~e, the Senate's amendments to the Army Appropriation bill, with the exception of $5000 for the survey of the Minnesota River and the Red .Ri\er of the North, were concurred in, The Senat.c's amentlment~ to the Consular and Diplomatic A11propri!otioil bill were also concuJ'l'cd in. The Senate bill amendatory of the act for the collection of direct taxes in in~urrectiouary di.Etricts was p.'lgsed, The debate on the bill authorizing

!~:n~J~si~f~!rt~ne~~~~t!:~:~u::io~lt~:rbi~':a~h~~s~~d by a vote of 85 aguimt 55, and the House adjourned.

Re?.~r:f~Jso~~·o!~S~~;~~ ~f:tf;!el\-1~~~:~~~ ~~~0 ~~·~: 1

1

sented. The l'ost-office Appropriation llill was pao.-Pd, The bill to establish a national currency sreured by Unitcd States stocks was po~tponed for one week. A bill ~top-

i~~lgr!~:rf~Y t~ft~~e:ftf~Ire: ~~!~i~e~~rs &;:;~~:~~~~}~~~~

gall moved to take up his resolutions relative to the French invasion of Mexico. Senator Sumner, chuirman of the

~~~:~t~~~t~~n ~~~~j~~,~·~~"t/~p~~~~: 0~1~\jl:~~~~io1~.;

St'nator:ll'Dongall then addressed the Senut.e at considera·

~~~~~1~8:~ ~~st~.:~~~~ctby S~~~l~g~:i~~ f~~o 1~~~~~~t~~~ f~~h=x~~~~"ve '~i;~~~~ ~~~i~~bt:~~~~~~yt~edfo~·~~~.~~~

In the Hou~c, the Uommittee on Elcctionsreportedfavora-

t~Lcfr~': ~~~d;frt!~~n~ ~~~~~·df t~~~~~f~:u~!i~~;, m~r~~~ 1

Uankruvt l1ill was then tai<en upj and, after some e:;:planation, ::\ll'. Kellogg-, of Illinois, moved to lay It on the table, whichwa~agreedtobyavoteof60agam~t53. TheJ.olilitary UommiLtee rCJ!Ol'kd lmc.tl: the hill providing for the enlarg-ement of the New York MDd Michigan anrl lllinoi~ cv.nals1 with amendments, ana the subject wasreferrett to the Committee ofthe '"~'hole. A bill was reported authorizing the c.olliltruction of a submanne telegraph from Fort :rtl'llenry to Galveston, touching at various points on the coast. A motion to lay thP. bill on the table was loBt by a vote of 46 agaimt OS, and pending the question on itil passage the I-buse. a1ijourned.

A 8 ,,I,LY FHo:l-l CHARLESTON. 1~ dL~p1ltch 10 the Ridmwnd Jnquit'e'l', dated {.,"'barler.~ ton, J:munry Sl, ~ll.y~: 'l'his morning the gun-boats PahneUD Slate, Captain Clw&tertield-all under the tommrmd cf Crmmodorc Ingrahani, made an attack nn the blocku.derll~ 11nd ;<JW-ceedcd in hinking two and crip11linga thirtl, ~~~= eJ,~~c;,~n~~~~~~~~~d ~~!~~;~~~ Ingr:thr;m on board. opened fire upon the Fed\'tal gun boat !f/uceditr, carrymg 11 guns and 15R men, ;llnch_wns !loon 1 unk lll

~~t~~ ~~~~~i~~~e:~~~~~:~ ~vai~~ ;~~~c~!::m~~~~!~;~inlLt~ ~,:~:~:~:~a0 ~ 0:~!et~rc~~~~~:e~~~~~~~~,a~"J'~~~::e~~1~ ;:

it flo not pa~s.

OFFICIAJ, PIWCLA·\UTION, ll.EAD·Q~~"-TRBs, LA~o BrD ',~.,..~,.

At ahout five o'clock tl~i::~~;;~~~~~;

'file bill appropriating mnney to :lid in the emn.n-

~i~~~:[~~~~~~~c~~;~~~t~:PJ.~~er~t~~r~:h~E:,;:,~;~da~~

DOl\-fJTISTIC INTELLIGENCE.

CHARLL:S'I'OY.

The follow~ng proi:lr.tnaticn was forthwith pt:.blki1ed:

~~~~~jo~n~AW~~ ~'r!.k~:r~~1 :~:~~our~~euH~~~~n,;~ :~~~~cd fl~c~~~~;r~~~t~~ff1~~~ll~~1 ~~te off und out of sig!.t ior the

Uonsular and Diplomatic Appropriatio~ bill wag Jl'.t~SEt!.

Dryden says, that, n If a ~traw can tkkle n man, it L3 to him an instruill!.'llt of lll.tppiness." Tickle his no.e with it and see.

----The mnn who was hemmed in by a crowd hns been troubl~d with a stitch in his side ever since.

1

taken.

sl!:~~; ~i:.~~~~~~ot have been too dearly won, if you 1md

1~~u~/itni~ili~fi,.~ ~~e;!~l.d

Fhl.g-Oi!ieer Comu-umding, ltEOPE!\"'I:NG OF THE PORT OF

=~~ ~~h~:: k~~~~k~~~e~rft~~<·~~.~~ ~i:C~~;:~c~~~ ~~e ~~;~

~~;~~!t~oc~~~~nrtom~eu~r:;~nadru~~~e~i:~o~g~~('~n~'~n!~~

Prn•t!es at a dead lock should extdc:J.te themselvell with

LommER.

~il~;I;.: ]~:ii}J~is~~~;,b"E~~r·~~~;~l;~:v;l~:~

Senute was for the time withdrawn. Thu nJsolntion concorning Co~mudore Vundel'!Jilt, Commodm·e Van Brunt,

the resolution adopte·l. The bill to tmconragc pnlistmrnt~, and providing f01" enrolling an!l drafling the milltifl, wacl repvrted bnek by the :Milit-ary Committec>~ The rc:;olution

mTe~

o1N "BOARD GuN-BOAT" PALl.lll""l'~o ~'l'.I.Tl<."

1 went out hr.st night. Thi3 vessel struck the 2,:.ercedita, when she eent a boat oa l)oard and Junendcrcd. 'rlw cffi~

1

''I'll let yon off easy this time," us the horse said wheu he thl'ew hi~ rider into the mutl.

A TREE,

gl~IBI~"fou;1~fn7;J:\~~~eo~nc7areJfs;~fct ~ Charlc~ton.

~:;}~~;r~n~~~~ ~~uafi~~ fe:J~ ;i~~ ~~~wi~i~~{~t f~~.~! ~~:~ 0

ind~i~~~ed :a;~~f.displlsed with tL~ gout, U makes him

a fkeleton key.

BUR..li{SlDE. FROM the first appearance of General Burnside in fhi~ war as Colonel of the First Rhode Island Regiment and Acting Brigadier at Bull Run~ through his b1;lliant Carolina campaign, to his withdrawal from the Army of the Potomac, his cm·eer has been so,manly, so simple, and so heroic, that no General bas awakened a more affectionate regard in the pilpulai heart. He bas held himself aloof from nll cliques of designing men speculating upon the pes· sibility of using him as a Presidential candidate. 'l'here has been no question of his bravery, his energy, and his celerity in the field, qualities c.~sen-

tia\ t~ an invading army. Upon tho ~n~tines,:~ 1 tnntt~ 1 uud earnestness ~f purpose no .suspiciOn has

'To

~· \Yhen the ~ky falls we shall catch larks," said an o1r1 gentleman, quoting a well-known proverb, "'Certainly," suid a wug beside him; "but in my opinion our young men have no need to wait for that event; they have too many 'larks' alre_ad_cy_."_ _ __

whole body

:~~dh~u~~~:~e~~~~gf:;;~o0~~r~;h~~\~' b;~ea~~~,~~r~~::1:

ously damaged. .The number of the blnckading fleet outside at the tim@ of the atta~k was t.Jlirte:m, with two firot-class frigat~ th,• Susquenanna and C((na11dai,rrv.rt.

The Ferleral loss Wllil very severe. It was a complete succc~s on our p::tJt., witb not a man hurt.

Our gun-boate were not even 8truck.

All the blocknders have disappeared. There Is not one to be see'l within five miles with the stronge~t kind of

1

being asked, as he lay sunning himself on 4 the

~~;:y : 1~i~h';~~~~~e~~~if~\~~i~~u~~~~,ition, replied,

Captain Tucker, of the Chicora., reports sinkin& a.n.:>ther Federal ~tm<·boat and the disabling o[ the steamship Quaker Ctt;/. The latter wss set on fire by the Clticom,

~:~~~!ioof ~~~s~~~:l~tl~x~~::;l~~~~n,~~~~i~u~!~~ 1b~u!o~~~

IIUl\fORS OF THE DAY.

Jaux,-As we -parted yon said that

99

=====================

eXpelled from the !i!enat.,. The resolution was laid over under the ruleR. A resolution was adopted instructing tbe Military Committee to inquire into the proptiety of ex. tending such relief as ci.reum~tances may require, and inquire into the case of Mr. Thomag, known 11.8 ".ZO.rvona, the French lady," of Maryland, now a pri~otler of WlU' at Fort Lafayette, and who, as represented, has been con. fined in a dungeon oi that iortreM since June last, and i~ now hopele.ssly in~ane .'ly reason of his sufferings. The President was requested to trammit to the Senate all orders issued by the Secretarie3 of War and Treasury in regard to a general prohibition W export arms and munitions from the United States to tUe Mexican Republic, and any orders relative to the exportation of articles contra. band of war for the ns.e of the :French a.rmy. The bill making appropriations for pensions for invalid soldic:m was pa~sed..

The Army Appropriation bill wa~ al~o pa%ed. 'l'he Consular and Diplomatic Appropriation bill wa.s discu~sed, and after an executive Eession the Senate adjourned.

-Tn the House, the que~tion of arming the negror.~ war! hrought up on a motion to J•efer the billd aut.horizi:•f! the employment oi: !>lack soldiers to the Committee on 1\iilit.flry Affai!·ll. The opposiLion attempted to defEat tlw bill~. aud the ;'CHpon commencetl a ~eries of parliamentary manoou vrc~ on both ~<ide.•, y,-hich continued until t.wo o'clock in the ~~~rr1\~i;e~viLhm1t any result M regards the legiHlation of On Tluu·,~dR.y 1 20th, in tlJe S.>nnte, Senator SnulHbury, of

Senator Clark, of New Hamp~hire, offer\:d i ed.

1

One slrot pierced her boiler, going clear through.

~:e~h~r~~~~e~f r;;:;;:s~:s~~~ n:ei~~~:~l~:o~~~~~~ j bu~~~a~fb~eli~~~~~g0~h2 7~h:b~~n! ~~:~~~~~n~~ ~u~; Z:ji!~:ellwagen and crew were puroled

by

Commodore

1

1

of tlJC affair have rome to hand. The WchwonJ. anti Sa~ vannah prtptrs say that the .Uontauk came up to the fort in fine htyk, and that she was the only ho&t engaged.

Their shell and ~hot were broken to pier·cs as thty struck her sides, bt1t her turret was so badly injured that ~he bad to haul off. The other in the mcnn tirne. remained below t~ bend of the rh·er, entirely out of the action. On t!1e other hand, the Navy Department received a o.i~putc"h on Sd from l<'oTtwss Monroe, atating that there l.s no truth in the report that the lJlonttruk was disabled; that CommandOl" "r'wdPn lay under the enemy's gunH for four hour~, and that their ~hot had no mo:J:C effect upon his vessel than hall· slonf's.

A FIGHT ON '!'HE BLACKWATEH. Genernl Corcoran had a brilliant action with the rebe! chief, R( ger A. Fryor, on the uiC'!ht of the 29th, and com~ plelel~· defeated tim, The conflict took place at a point ten nules irom Suffolk, and the batue openrd IJy an artillery duel by moonlight. After two homs' firing the rebel artillery b<"g:m to ~lacken, when General Corcorn.n ordered n charge of IIi~ infantl·y andc:.:.valry. 'l'he cnnmy fell back l1efore om' troopR for two milf'~, ~nd there made another ~tand, and the fight was continued for oyer se,-en hours.

Gcndr::tl Uorcoran had a narrow eFcapr from a shell which hurst dire<'Hy in front of hi;n. Oill' lilil~J was about one hundred and four.

CA PTUl:E OF AN ANGLO-REBEL

STEA~ER.

It is stated, upon the authority of the Richmond Whig,

that the Bt·irh>h steamer Princess Royal wu.s ~urrounded

alifl captured by a fieet of Union gun-boats while attempting to run the blockade into Charlest.on, on Thursday7 with a valuable ~nrgo from Halifax. She had on board 600 barrels cf powder, 2 Armstrong gum, a large lot of ma-o chincry, 88\) hales ofsllec•t-iron, 1 steam bakery, 144 bales o~ hartlware, £-5 t:it~etl of boot~ 1 ~29 bags of coffee, 500 boxes

~~iW~;t~~: ~~~e~~~~~~~e ~fV:~~~~~~~g~~~e~~:J 1

wit.h the ve~sel

GJ~NEltAL

flANKS A.'£: NEW ORLE"ANS.

M:1jer-Geuenl Bank., is st.iilln New Orleans, ITa hu reiterated G··nP.rnl BntlPr's"order taxing certain reoel merchants for tlll' 11upportofthepoor; has cautioned the public against offering insult~ to the solr1ieu, and in several acts bas indicated a vigorons administration. Jacob Barker has appruled to him Feveral ~imc>' for permission to revive thn Adt>ocate, but General Banks, it is said, will uot permit. the publication of that rebeJ sheet again.

THIJ: REDEL FINANCES. The rcporr. of the rebel Secretary of the Treasury shows the condition of the enemy's finances. The receipts for the year 18!52 were $4.')71 855,'i04, and the expenditures $416,961 1735, leaving a balance of over $41,000. 'fhe ex\)enses for the War Department was $340,000,000, and for the Navy $20,0001000.

FOREIGN NEWS. FRANCE. THE EliPEROR'S VIEWS OF THE MEXICAS QUESTION.

A I.ETTER has been trammitted by the Emperor Napoleon to General Forey, Commander·in-Ch!ef of the :French umy in Mexico, in which his Majesty explains very freely and fully the objects and scope of the e::rpedition to that countrv, both present and 11rmpective. This most signifi~ cant dOcument ha~ been officially submitted to the French Legi~lature.

In it the Emperor says: "In the preoent !!tate of the civilization of the world the prosperity of America is not a matter of indifference to Europe, for it is ~he wlw fee'IS our manufactories and gh•esllt'e to our ('.ommerce. "\\To have an intere,;t in this-that the rrpub.

Ik: of the [nited State6 be powerful and prosperous; Lut we have none in t.hi.s-that she should seize po~session of ull the 1.-lexican Gulf, dominate from thence the Antilles, as well as South America, and be the sole diapense1• of the products of the New World.'•

lGO

HARPER'S WEEKLY.

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THE FIGHT AT CORNEY'S BRIDGE, BAYOU TECHE, LOUISL\.NA, AND DESTRGCTION OF THE REBEL GUN-BOAT "COTTON, II JANU:\RY 14,

18C3.-SKETC'flED BY OUR SPECIAT. . Ar:TIST.-[SF.E PAGE

10';.]

[FEBRTTAR:

14, 1863.

0

SCALE OF MILES ~~-----=!;;; ~,~-=tt~----:±==---:=:3:1

1.0

20

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MAP OF TilE SEA-BOARD l!'RO~l ~'ORTRESS MONRO!<: TO C!lARLESTON, SHOWING THE FIELD OF OI'El!AT!ONS Ok' THE NEW SOUTHER>."<: EXPEDITION.

FEBRUARY

14, 1863.)

HARPER'S WEEKLY. forget the sharp spasms Qf pain that racked his poor wounded frame, while the fire shoRe ruddily on the walls, faintly illumin~ng the long rows of narrow white beds on either side, and the gray

THE BATTLE OF MURFREESBOHO. As occasional corre::opontlent, Mr. HUbner, of the Third Ohio Volunteers, has sent us the picture of the BATTLE 01" lliUHFJlEI!;SBORO, which we reproduce on page 108. It represents the situation of affairs on the third day of the battle, and we give Mr. HUbner's description in his own wo1·ds: "The accompanying sketch represents the position of the centre of the army on the third day of the battle. The batteries were situated en commanding ground; across the plain ran a rifle-pit.

'I'he slightest elevation of the ground was used to protect our boys from the heavy fire out of tho wcods. The rebels niade several fierce attacks, but 'vcre repulsed with heavy loss.

"Colonel Loomis's battery and Captain Terrill's United States battery opened a cross-fire on them, and the enemy soon retreated back into the woods, where they had strong intrenchments, leaving behind a good number killed and wounded.

"The Nineteenth Regiment IlHnois Volunteers made a rush upon the Twenty-sixth rebel Regiment of Tennessee, drove them back with great loss, anr! captured their flag, on wl1ich was the motto, 'Death before Subjugation!' The gallant Captain Taylor, a member of ?tlajor-Goneral Rousseau's staff, bore it away amidst the cheers of thousands and thou~ sands of bra"Ve men.

"The hoys suffered terribly on account of the inclemency of the weather. A cold rain fell, and when not in action we had to lie down, of'ten in the mud, in order to be concealed from thn rebel batteries. The l1ovs built small fires and crowded around them, ~ot minding the cannon-balls or bursting shells which came in volleys from the rebel batteries. A fat•orite stratagem if our gallant and belored commander, -"llajor-General Rosee:rans, is to make us lie down under the cre$t of an elevation cif the ground, and a·wait the arrival of the enemzt until tl;ey come within a short distance, then jump up, give them a vvlle~J and charge u•ith the bayonet; and 'tis true enough, if carried out with precision and boldness, it leads to victoryJ. "Our rations r11n short too, and there was no chance of a fresh supply. So many of our soldier bovs attacked the fresh-kille(l horses which lay ar~und. A thin slice of horse roasted on a sticl~, with pepper and salt on it, is a delicious meal when nothing else is to be had."

RECAPTUHED. A STORY OF ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.

A smnum twilight under tiJC green awning of low-branched linden-trees- clove-pinks blossoming in the garden borders, like chalices of' spiceand stars just trembling into the warm violet sky -if Clinton Audley had lived to be a hundrPyearS< old, be never would have forgotten the di , indistinct beauty of the dusky landscape. No 1r all that happened on that summer night wasP .derl upon his heart in lines that Death itself· 1 no · power to efface ! ''Not yet, Clara; do not speak so firp· l Remember that it is my life's doom yo~.- are pronouncing. Ob, Clara! think again."

He had led his men up to the \ery cannon's mouth without a thought of fear, yet now he was a coward iu the presence of that slender blue-eyed girl!

• " It is useless," said Clara Mervyn, with cheek whose cCI'lor never varied, and firm, pitying eyes; "my answer would be the same did I take a whole year for deliberation. I am very sorry, Clinton; but-" "Nay,'' interposed Audley, with a cold, constrained voice that scarce hid the angry emotions in his heart, "do not waste your pity on me. The matter is unfortunate as far as I am concerned; but l can not see why you should gl'ieYc. I have been a mad fool, that is all. Good-evening, Clara!"

He lifted his light military cap and was gone; and Clara Mervyn sat down on the rustic garden seat and bad a good cry! Surely it was not her fault that Clinton Audleywas so foolish-he might have known she didn't care for him.

'Vhile the young officer, restlessly pacing to and f1·o, thought of the dark-eyed soldier whose head he had supported at Manassas while the life bubbled from his breast in red surging drops-thought of his last words, "It isn't for myself; but 1\Iary's heart will break when she hears of it !"-oh why could he not have died in that boy's stead? There was no heart to break for hirn!

"The idle dream is ended!" he said, aloud; "and now for the realities of life. 'Ve shaH never meet again."

Coulcl be but. have looked forward to the time when they two should meet again!

"Only my right hand, doctor? Pooh! never mind; there's many a fine fellow· worse off than I am!"

"A very philosophical view to take of matters," said the surgeon, half smiling, "but at the same time an unusual one. Hold still half a minute, can't you?"

"Well, what does it matter after all? I've neither wife nor s'veet-heart to fret about my disfigurcments." "llut I suppose you expect to come into posses~ sion of one or both of those articles some day?"

11 Can't say that I do. 'There, I'm comfortable enough now. I say, though, doctor!" "'Vell?"

"Could yon persuade that fat old nurse to get a pair of shoes that squeak in a minor Wey? Every sick man has his trialsr aud mine arc those calfskin shoes. Possibly I'm nervous, but I can't help it!"

The surgeon laughed good-humoredly.

H Don't annoy yourself on that score; there will be a change of nurses to-night, and I do not think the shoe-question will trouLle you further. Try to ~>leep a while now!"

Clinton Audley closed his eyes, and strove to

dusk blackened into night, and-

" I must have been asleep!" he thought, with a sudden start, as the little clock chimed eleven.

"Yes, I must; but who on earth is that? Oh, the new nurse, I suppose. She do~'t wear calf-skin shoes, at all events-moves like a shadow!"

For like a shadow she had glided to his bedside. '' I think your draught was to be~taken at eleven,

Sir !11 and she glanced at her written directions.

And as Clinton Audley silently extended his left hand for the slender vial, he knew that the ':new nurse" was Clara Mervyn. She recognized him at the same instant-there was a slight start, but neither spoke. ]fate had brought them together once again!

The January snows melted away from the purple :Maryland hills, and February's blue heaven smiled overhead. Spring was nigh at hand, yet the lost roses had not blossomed again on Clara Mervyn's cheek.

"Don't overwork yourself, Miss 1\Iervyn," said the kindly surgeon; "there's no earthly occasion for it. They are all doing well, except that young Audlcy!"

The color rushed in a scarlet torrent to Clara's check, then receded, leaving it cold as marble.

"Will he die, Sir?" u Die? oh no! not the least danger of his dying.

'Vhat I meant to say was, that his recovery is slow. Never knew such a lagging convalescence.

A fine young fellow that-very. We surgeons are commonly supposed to have nofeelings,l\Iiss Clara; but I can tell you it went to my heart to take that boy's band off. However-but bless me, it's nearly noon. Be sure you take car~ of yourself, Miss 1\Iervyn !"and away hurried Dr. 'Vilde, who never knew what it ·was to have a moment's leisure!

Clara was left alone, her head drooping on her breast. The next instant she rose up and looked at her own slender right hand with a shuddering, sobbing sigh.

"Oh, if I could have given my useless hand to save l1is !" she moaned. "If I had but the right to cheer and comfort him I Ah me! what c-an a woman do but endure l" Clara was learning a hard lesson in life's saddest school-to suffer and be silent. "lHiss 1\Iervyn !"

She started at the words. He had never called her '' Clara" sinCe their parting under the linden~ trees.

"Are you very busy to-night?"

"Not particularly so; why do you ask?"

"Then come and sit beside my pillow for a little while. I feel conversational just now.''

She obeyed silently. "_.,_\rc you better this evening 1 Lieutenant Andley?"

HI think so. The red, glorious sunset has done me good. Did you know that this was St. Valentine's Eve?" ' j The 13th of February-so it is l" "Do you believe in the goodly offices of St. Valen tine, Miss Mervyn? I assure you my faith is limitless in the patron saint oflo.-ers!"

Clara smiled as she remembered aU the timeworn ''valentines" she kept under lock and key at home. ''I confess to a little superstition on the subject,'' she said, coloring, for she felt that Clinton's eyes were fixetl on her downcast lashes. ':Very well, then; you won't consider me mawkishly sentimental if I ask you to be so kind as to act as my right hand for once." ''I should be so glad. But how-" "Will you write a St. Valentine's love-letter for me?"

"Certainly."

"Stop, though! Answer me one question first, frankly and fully. Do you think it would l1e a piece ofpreAumptuous folly in me to ask a woman's love to bless a maimed, useless wretch like me?

Nay, do not spare my feelings. I wish to hear the truth."

Clara Mervyn was silent for a moment; and when sl1e spoke it was in a distinct, though very low tone. ''If the woman yon love be worthy of the name, you will be far dearer to her now than ever you were in the prime of health and strength."

"You have taken a great weight from my heart, 1\Iiss 1\fervyn; and now ·will you assume the rdle of amanuensis?"

'Vriting a love-letter .for Clinton Audley to an. other woman-it was a strange duty-yet Clara :Mervyn went through with it with a sort of mechanical calmness, heedless of the sore heart that ached so bitterly in her breast, while every word seemed the knell of a death-warrant. It was the bitterest cup she had drunk yet-a cup that must Le swallowed to the dregs!

"Thank you, Miss Mervyn. I won't trouble ~·ou to direct it. Ah, if I were but certain that St. Valentine would speed my suit!"

He smiled; but it would have been difficult to tell which was paler-the cheek that lay against the pillows of the hospital pallet, or that shadowed

by Clara 1\Ien·yn's brown tresses! !

She gave him the folded letter, with it~ earnest words of pleading, and then went away to her own · room; for, fortunately, the·" night-watch," as it was called, had been confided to another. And only the quiet stars saw the convulsive bursts of grief that shook her frame ere at last she ~olllJed herself to sleep, her flushed cheek lying on her drenched hair, and tbe lips quivering even in her dreams!

How gloriously the crimson banners of St. Valentine's dawn were draped along the sky when at length she opened her eyes-how radiantly the morning lighted up tho~e blue, far-off hills! Unconsciously her lips formed themselves into a smile, and then-ah, tlten the old pangs of heartache came back to her!

She was nearly drer!sed before her eyes fell upon

1

103

a tiny bunch of violets, dew.sprinkled and fragrant, t.hat lay on her toilet-table--she caught it up with an exclamation of delight, and a note fell from its blue heart-a note directed in a strange, straggling hand. ''Some hospital directions," she murmured, anti, smiling at Dr. Wilde's eccentricities, she unfolded the paper. ''Great Heaven! can it be possible?" she faltered, as she recognized her own handwriting. "Did he mean to ask me to become his wife? Oh, it is too much, too much happiness!''

She clasped her hands over her eyes for a moment, then sank to her knees beside the little white bed, half uncertain whether it were not all a dream.

Five minutes later Clinton Audley held out his left hand to the blushing little nurse who ha(l stolen softly to his bedside.

"Wen?" he asked, scanning her face smilingly.

"Oh, Clinton, I am so happy!"

And then she burst into tears: it was well that there were not many patients in the convalescent ward!

"Are you really capturerl, my little, shy, tremulous bird?" he whispered. ''Nay,'' said Clara, shaking back her curls with a spice of the old mischief, "it is you who are recaptured, brave soldier though you deem yourself!" ''And had you no suspicion of the destination of that valcnt!.ne?"

"If I had known it would have spared me a great many tears. But oh, Clinton, I think I shall never sh~d any but happy tears again!"

With the radiant dawn of St. Valentine's Day had risen the morning-star of Clara Mervyn's life and love!

SAVANNAH. ONE of our special artists, Mr. Loomis, has sent

~SE~:::::c;~~cf ~e~ ~=pr:g~~:~~~ T;a:!Vto~~A~t

seems that our forces in Fort Pulaski have taken pains to inform themselYes p1·etty thoroughly of the nature of the rebel defenses, so that when tl1e time com~ for an assault iherc shall be no more Big Bethel blunders. 'Ve hold the mouth of the river, Fort Pulaski, the two channels on either side of Elba Island, and St. Augustine Creek. The rebel advance is at tbe junction of that creek with the river. There they have erected s0me pretty substantial earth-works, mounted with heavy guns in bar bette. And on a line with these, in the riYer, is a row of obstructions consisting of piles firmly dri\-en into the Led of the riYer, and secw.red together with chains. Behind these floats the iron~ clad GemYJia, formerly the B-ritish steamer Fing'll, a yessel of no mean power, though not very well adapted, we should judge, to cope with 011r 1\Ionitors. It will Le seen that the rebels haYe not been idle in taking measures for theh· protection. There will be all the more glory for our brave soldiers and snilors when they take the place.

THE BATTLE IN BAYOU TECHE.

by the woods 1 from Patersonville to a point above the .Colto?t, where they co.uld succe~sfully play up;:!n her; and lll this they were asststed by some of the One Htmdred and Sixtidh New York1 and 60 sharp-shooter~< of the Seventy-fifth New York, who played h:.~voc among the crew of the rebel gun-boat, which was one of those enormous !~l~~irf}~ l!i~!~ers, protected by cotton wherever possible, Thrice did this ungainly monster retire up the bayou, fro:r,n th~ effect of the deadly iron hail poured into her, and thnce did she desperately come up to renew the contest.

She came once too often 1 however; for1 after having had her men nearly cleaned out of her, the last time she made her appearance-which was at 2 o'clock next morning-she wa~ floating in solitary glory down the bayou, one sheet of flame.

The game being over, and the llstensible ob:;ect of the expedition aecomplished1 our gun-boats and iand-forces retm-ned in perfect order and good spirits.

STONEWALL JACKSON'S CAMP.

'V E publish on page l 09 a picture of STOSEWALL

JACKS~::i IN CAMP, from a sketch by ~Ir. Vizetelly,

the artist of the J.. ondon Illustrated !Vews, who has~ cast his lot among the rebels. This sketch was made some weeks since, and was sent from Secessia in the vessel whkh was lately captured off Charleston. All the documents found on board were transmitted to Admiral Dupont. Some of them, such as the correspondence between Benja. min and the rebel agents in Europe, have been published in the papers. What became of Mr. Vizetelly's drawings we can not tell; but the one we reproduce 'vas kindly traced for us, by permis.. sion of the Admiral, and tlms sees the ligbt-rath. er unexpectedly to its author-in our columns.

THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC. WE reproduce on pages 97, 104, and 105, two of 1\Ir. ·wand's sketches. One of them Hlustrates the fruitless attempt of the Army of the PotomaQ to moYe toward the Rappahannock on 20th Jan. ua1'Y-or, in the coarser language of the rebels, "BURNSIDE's ARMY STUCK IN THE MuD;" and ths other, the NIGHT-PATROL MAKING HIS RoUNDS. The latter picture explains itself, and needs no de~ scription. By way of explanation of the former we append the following graphic account from the correspondence of the Times: Jt was a wild Walpurg-us night, such M Goethe p:tints in the H 'Faust" while the demons held revel in the forest l•f the Brocken. All hopes that it would be a. "mere

~bower" were pret!ently blasted.

It was evident we were in for a regular northeaster, and among the roughest of that rough type. Yet wa~ there hard work done that fearful night. One hundred and fifty piecee of artillery were to l!e plant.ed in the position selected for tham by General Hunt, Chief of At1illery-a man of rare energy and of a. high order of professional skilL The pontoons, also, were drawn down nenrer toward the river1 but it was dreadful work; the roads under the inflnenee of the rain were becoming shoclRng; and by daylight, when the boats should ali haYe been on the bank!, rf'ady to slide down into the water, but fifteen had bet."D gotten up-n<rl; enough for one bridge, and five were wanted 1 The night operatiom llad not escaped the attention of the wary rebels. Enrly in the morning a signal-gun wil.l'l fired oppo~ite the ford, reminding one of that other signal-gun fired by them on the morning of Thursday the 11th December, when we began laying the pontoon op. posite }'redericksburg, and whieh was the token for tl1e

~:;:!~~i~llt~i~~::h~~fl~~~~~t!~~~~o~~;nn~!;~so~n~

OuR attentive New Orleans correspondent sends us a sketch-which we reproduce on page 101of the B.'\.TTLn: OF CoRNEY's BRIDGE, in Bayou Teche, Louisiana, fought by General Weitzel on 14th January. He ha~ gone up the bayou to destroy a rebel boat called the Cotton. The Times ('orrespondent thus describes the affair: Early on Wednesday mooning, at 6 A.M., the Dfaoo, Captain Goodwin, was ordered to go down the bayou to Lynch's Point~ to take the Eighth Vermont across to the left or northern bunk, in order fur a flank movement on the enemy. At 1 the Oa!houn, Commodore Buchanan, KiMJ"nan 1 Captain Wiggin, and Eeb·ella, Captain Cook, commenced moving slowly up the bayou, and at 8 o'clork reached the formidable obstrnct.ion. 1'his wae at a place oalled Corney'8 Bridge, from a man of that name owning a plantation there. Nothing but the pilee: of the old bridge remain, protruding about three or four flilet above water, and against these the rebels had sunk an old steamer, filled with briek, and placed all manner of rubbish-making it impossible at that time either for the Cotton to come down to us or for us to get at her.

At thi£ time1 about 8.45, an artillery dnel eommenced between our gun-boats and the gtm-bon.t Cotton and the rebel batteries. The tiring continued for some time without any manifestditl'erencetoeitherparty. Afewdesultoryrifleshot.s had been ftred at m from the shore.

Suddenly the KiniJ'Ini'_f;n felt llQmething explode under her; it was a torpedo, and her P.tern was violently lifted in the air, but fortunately with no damage, as was afterward found. An aid of General W eltzel came galloping up to tell the Kinsman of another torpedo being planted right aMad, a contrabQ,nd, oocapcd from the Cotton, hav-ing brought the intellig<i!nce. Owing to this, and ono of her guns being diMbled-so the Kinsman's officers all aseured me-she was cautiously dropping back, after warning both the Estrella and Cal.houn of what had been told her.

Commodore Buchanan, either not hearing or not heeding the information, at onCfl steamed up right ahead of both the Estrella and the Kinsman, and personally seized the post of danger. It was now about 10 o'clock, when the rebels, froll1 behind their concealed rifle-pits, poured forth a mo~t murderous volley upon our men; and the CoUon coming down to att11.ck our batteries, the fight became severe and generaL The gallant Buchanan was one of the fir~t to fall. He was standing forward, spy-glass in hand1 a motionleM tnrget for the deadly missiles of the hidden enemy. W. J).

13rown1 Acting Chief Engineer, who was near him n.t the time, ha-riug received a spent ball in the tlligh, the Commod ore said: "Ah 1 you've got it." The very next moment a bdl struck llnchann.n in the right cbeQk) immedi.at~o~ly behnv the temple, passing through to the opposite side. He exclaimed, •• My God I'' and fell back dead.

Some say this gallant officer wM ra.eh on this occasion, and threw away his loved and valued life; perhap01 so, but it lvas a rashnfll!s which will endear his lleroie name fon•ver.

To show how terribly murderom was the position in which our boots were plllced, it is only nece!eary to stntc that at this point the bayou lV'nS so narrow that the lwun in turning had bar bow and sWrn aground. '\Vhile this was going on our land-forees were loy no meaus idle. The Eighth Vm·mont, a~ soon as they lutd been brought across from Lynch's Point in the Diana, at once att.aeked tlJe rebels in the rear af their rlfte-pit<J; and during a briak and sharp engagemrnt killed ~evernl, took

mtrprise: and though our intention was thus blown to their ears early on "Terl:ne~day morning, we were, nevertheless, forty-eight hour.~ ahead of them1 and with favor~ able conditions should have been able to earry our position before they could possibly concentrate.

Acoordingly a desperate effort was made by the Com~ manding General to get ready the bridges. It was obviOur!1 however, that, even if completed, it would be impossible for llf', in the then condition of the ground, to get a single pieee of artillery up the opposite declivity. It would be necessary to rE'Iy wholly upon the infantry-indeed, wholly on the b11yonet. Happily, if the rebels should prove to be in ~<trong force, the country is too thickly wooded to admit of much generalsllip, and it was hoped that Olll' superior weight of met.al would carry the day.

Early in the forenoon I rode up to the head.quarterg of Generals Hooker and Franklin, about two miles from Banks'~ F'orcl. The night's rain had made deplorable havoc with the t·oads. The nature of the upper geologic deposits of this rt>gion affords unequaled elements for bad roads. The sand nmkes the soil pli~tble, the cla.y makes it Hticky, and the two together form a road out of which, when it mins, the bottom drop~, but which is at the same time eo tenacious tltat extrication from its clutch is all but impossible. '.rhe utmost effort was put forth to get pontoon~ enough into position to construct a bridge or two. Double and triple teams of horses and mules were harnesBed to each pontoon-boat. It was in Yain. Long, powerful ropes were then attached to the teams, and a hundred and fifty men wer(' put to the task on each boat. The effort wal'l but little more tmooessfuL They would flounder through the mire for a few feet-the gang of Liliputians with their huge-ribbell Gulliver-and then give up breathlnss. Night arriYed, but the pontoons could not be got up. 'l'he rebeli;; had discovered what was up1 and the pickets on the oppo~ite bank called over to ours that they "would come over t(1-morrow and help us build the blidge."

That night the troops again bivouacked in the Bnme position in the woods they had held the night before. YoLt can imagine it must have been a desperate experienceand yet not by any means as bad as might be supposed.

The men were in the woods, which afforded them some shr,lter from the wind and rain, 1).nd gave them a comparativrly <1ry bottom to ~leep on. Mauy had bronght their shelter-tents; and making a :flooring of spruce, hemlock, or cedar bonghs, and lighting huge camp fires, they enjoyed themselves as well as the circumst.a.nces would permit. On the following mo1•rdng a whisky ration, provided by the judicious forethought of General Burnside, was on hand for them.

Thursdny morning saw the light struggling through an opaque envelop of mist1 and dawned upon an<:lther day of storm and rain, It was a curious sight pre~ en ted by the army as we rode over the ground! mHes in extent, occupied by it. One might fancy !!Ollle nNv goologic eatacly~m had o'crtaken the world; and that he saw around him the elemental wrecks left by another Deluge. An indescribable chaos of pontoons, wagons, nnd artillery encumbered the road down to the river-supply-wagons upeet by the road-side-at1illery "etalled'' in the mud---amm1mition trains mired by the wny. Horses and mule.s dropped down dead, exhausted with the effort to move thmr loads thro11gh the hideous medium. A hundred and fifty dead anitnal~, many of them buried in the liquid muck, were counted in the cour!m of a morning's ride. And the muddle was still further increased by the bnU arrangementS--Or rather the failtU'e to execute the arritngcments that hurl been :made.

It was de~igned that Franklin's column ~hould advance by

anee from the Eithth Vermont, there can be little doubt that the Calhoun would have been lost, from the imrctnosity with which the rebels were firing upon her.

In the mcn.n time, no leS$ e-ffici<>nt aid wa~ being given by other portions of our troops. Three batterie~the First }laine1 J,ieutenant Bradbury; one section of the Fourth M.n.s~nrhusetts, under Lieutenrtnt Briggs, and CR.ptain \V. 1Y. CaiTuth's Sixth MMsachusetta-had gone round

into the road a~signcd to t.he centre, and cutting in beh cen two divisions of one of Ur;oker's oorp,~, threw every thing into confusion. In consequence, the ':oods and roads he.ve for the past two days bL•en filled w1th stragglers, thout;li very many of them were. involun~rn-y str~gglf't~, and we1-e evidently honestly seekmg to reJoin tbetr reg~­ ments. Itwasnownolongeraqnestionofhowtogoon: it was a question of how to get back.

Cal-l·

{~~ln 1~~~~!~Y.an~!tuJr);~hisn:~~d~~nfl~~~~\~;~:~t0~~~~~t~ ~~~i~~~f ~~~ t~~~e~?thb!L:~ ~r':~d ~l~arin ~:~~:~e~ 0

HARi:'ER'S

FRUITLESS ATTEMPT OF THE AR~lY OF' TIIE POTOJIIAC TO :MOVE TOWARD THE I1

:j

WEEKLY.

RAPPAHANNOCK ON 20m JANUARY,

105

1SG8.-SH1'<'f!ED

ny J\fn. A. R. WAun.-[SEE PAGE Io;l.]

HARPER'S WEEKLY.

106 COUNTERPARTS. FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE.

A

PINE-TREE standeth lonely, In the North, on mountain cold.

He sleeps; the icc and snow-wreaths White draperies round him fold.

He dreameth of a palm-tree, \Vho, far in the East, doth look TO\vanl l1im, as she mourncth lonely On burning shelf of rock.

L.H.

THE

** **

IN THE CLOSET.

ny, for she had, I know, fixed on the 4th for her daughter's arrival in Paris, and I could not rest till I had seen.her and learned my fate. There is a certain air of poverty about the apartments, in spite of the gentility of the lady's manners, which makes me fear tlmt my fortune may be an acceptable prospect to the De Vignys, and I more than eyer determine to ascertain for myself if the parents die~ tate to the poor girl her choice. After a brief apol· ogy for presenting myself so early in the day, ':Is she arrived?" I asked, eagerly. ''Yes, indeed.l' "And she was quite willing to come?" ''·what a question! Gabrielle has never disobeyed her parents."

"Bnt was she glad, happy, or did she weep?"

"Nay, I must admit she shed many tears; but

PASSAGES E;J:-'kezi\f'f FD~OilJ~~y~OURNAL OF

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3d June, 1770: Paris.-The Vicomte de Grand~ champs called this morning-splendhl as usual, with buttons of Roman mosaic on his Yelvet coat, and his point.lacejabot the true coffee-color now in vogue. What an age of pretension it is! The dandv conceals his O\VU fine hair beneath a hideous crop ~of the barber's invention. The ladies cover their fair skins with rouge and little patches of blnck; the graceful play of their limbs is thwarted bv some artificial device to swell out their pcttic~ats and nip in their waists-even the pearly whiteness of their lace must be dved in coftbe to give it. a look of age! How prepoSterous shall we appear to future ages, when a more enlightened education and a higher tone of moralitv shall enable society to return to nature, con~~qttently to beauty! I can fancy how the students of the next century will contrast the costume of our ladiestheir petticoats tucked up to cliBplay their legs, attractively setoff by colored and embroidered stockino-s · t.heir Iitle feet distorted llY hig;h·heelod shoes· th~i/ painted cheeks, their false hair, their littl; shadeless hats-wiih the long ilo\ving robes indieating the graceful limbs without displaying them, the chaste wimple, the modest veil of the middle ages. I can fancy what lesson they ·will deduct from these outward signs, and how they will underst~nd only from pictures the reverential devo~ tion of the knig1lts of Saint Lou.is's time for their noble ladies, and the familiar, lewd gallantry of the reign of Louis XV. To return to the Vicomte who suggested this digression. He entered, and threw himself indolently down on the ea·siest of my arm· chair11 1 stretching out his legs the better to admire their exquisite proportions.

11 11 Is it true," he asked, that you are on the eve of ghing up your liberty?" ~'1\Iy liberty? what is that?'' '~ Ah !" he replied, with a little laugh, stroking his calves the while, "very good; what is his Jib. crtv ?-cYnical as usual. Do not we bachelors coll1e and go at ,vm, order our own dinner, pursue our ovm pleasure, form our own little acquaintances, not to shock you with tenderer names, inviteourownfriends to our own banquets? Once married, mon c!oer, some one else rules all that i you may pay the cost-that will be your share of the fun. It is true you may have separate establish. mente, but that is expensive, and no particular good."

"All that may be the case in your m6nage, Vicomte," I replied, "but I assure yon it will not be so in mine. Time only can prove how much marriage may increase or diminish my happiness; but, decidedly, J shall remain master of my own bouse."

"Then yon will live in perpetual warfare, and we shall soon see the marks of nails on your grave, sober face. That is a worse condition than the other."

"Neither one nor the other is necessary, I assure you."

"Ah, poor De1aunay, what an infatuation! I had hoped it might not be true, when the fellows at the fencing.court told me yott had asked t.he hand of Gabrielle de Yigny of her parents."

"It is true that I have made proposals to the parents of ii-Iademoise1le de Vigny," I replied, with a stress on the m-adenwiselle he had so rudely omitted; "but I am not so sure of obtaining it."

"Yon don't mean to say De Viguy hesitated?the hypocrite!"

14 Not at all, but the young lady herself has not seen me; flhe is still in her conve-nt."

"And yon think she will be consulkd ?" " I am sure she will; I will not force myself upon any one."

11 Ah, well, girls are an alike! she will say yes, glad enough to leave school and be Madame la Daronne Delaunay, with a handsome husband, a handsome house, and a handsome fortune. And then she will amuse herself. Poor things, they are so caged up !-they know nothing but restraint; whereas we men, by marrying, either lose our liberty, or-" 14 ValuabJe liberty, truly! ·we do as ·we like, because no one cares what we do; stop out late, because no one at home is longing for us; form silly friendships, because there is no one to fill up the blank in our heart."

"Our heart! Really, Delaunay, conversation with you is like reposing in a shady arbor! Fancy a man of the court of his l\Iost Christian :Mnjesty Louis XV. talking about our hearts! Ah, here is Franc;ois with chocolate i I dJ·ink in that most innorent beverage to the success of your Arcadian dream. l\Iay your choice be as sweet .as your chocolate!"

And so he ran on, and I reasoned with him no longer. A quoi bon'? It was not.worth the trouble, But am I so sure of the wisdom of my plans?

I have seen her portrait; H is cl1arming. Her pat·ents are worthy people, and she is only fifteen; surely, at that age, she can have acquired no taint of the vic€s of the day; 110 taste for its artificial pleasnres, She will yield to my superior cxperienee. I will be so gentle with her; I will so truly make her feel the identity of our interests-but softly, she i::; not yet mitw, she may never bear my name, for her wishes shall never be foreed for me.

6th June.-Waited betimes on Madame de Vig-

She is so.}:oung she ha~ new·.rt~oughtofchanging her cond1hon; and she IS so titmd too. There were girls there no older than herself who cast such 1 looks of envy upon her as she bade them farewell!

'Ah, how happy you will be!' they exclaimed.

'Como and see us when you are a great lady, and tell us all about ~ourt when _you are presented.'

But my poor Gabnelle only kissed them, and wept wit~ out spea~ing. They were all still standing belund the grille when we drove away. But she is quite happy this morning; listen, is not that a merry song?" , She paused, and opened the window; from ~he l~ttle square_garden b~rteath ro,se a sweet carohng hke the matms of a bud. How my heart beat as I caught the vague outline of a female dress among the lilac~ bushes!

"Ah, 1\Iadame, l~t me go down to her. I must see l1e:. I can wa1t no longer now I have heard her vorce." ''-What arc you thinking of, Baron? She has no proper attire; she still wears her poor little convent frock. I have already sent for the mantuamaker. In a few days she shall be !?resented to you; but to _se~ lH"r alone before ~arr1a~e, at any ~·ate before s1gnmg th? contract-unposs1ble: that IS never done.

Monsieur le Baron must be aware of it?"

"I am, dear Madame; but I am not bound by any of our absurd formalities myself, and I entreat you to set them aside in my favor. Good Heavens, 1\-:Iadame! what idea have you formed of yunr future son, that you arc afraid to trust him to speak to your daughter?"

As I grew warm the lady was obviously embarrassed between her strong sense of the proprieties and her desire not to offend me. 11 I wish my husband were at home,'' she sighed.

"Listen, dear 1\Iadame; you must allow me to see mademoiselle, for I have YO'lYed never to marry a girl who can not assure me that she volunta' rily becomes my wife." 'fhe lady looked still more uncomfortable. "Sho is so timid she would not dare to tell you so much.'' '~Well, at any rate you must let me try. Do you not see that I am only consulting her interest?

You consent? I go then. I shall be almost in your presence in that arbor."

Theladyfairlycriedassheagainmuttcredsomething about her poor attire; but I hastily left the room. The more she desired the match the more determined I became to ascertain if the daughter was averse to it; and a few seconds b1·ought me into the garden. Gabrielle was standing under a lilac. tree- the sun glancing in checkered rays through the boughs upon her brilliant hair, her white throat, her simple dress. Ah, I see that dear little frock now-a white chintz strewed with rosebuds! Her face was bent down over a lily-of~ the. valley she was smelling, but the profile was exquisite; the little hands which held the flower were so delicate! 1\Iy haste received a sudden cheek; it was for me to feel timid, uncertain.

What if that lovely flower were not for me? what if that sweet face were to turn away from me with aversion? All my thoughts were confused; words failed me. Now that I had seen her, how could I bear to risk a refm:al? I had almost resolved to return to her mother, and beg her to plead my cause i but I could not stir-that girlish figurQ, that. elegant pose, that beautiful head, enthralled me quite. Suddenly she turned round and perceived me; a crimson blush overspread ~er face and neck, and she was bounding away like a startled fawn, when I boldly caught her hand, and, gently detaining her, explained who I was, and that her mother had allowed me to visit her in the arbor.

Poor little thing! how frightened, how agitated she looked! Fo:- seven years she had seen no man but the old priest; and her dress fluttered visibly with the beating of her heart. 1\:[y own taught me how to reassure her, I had determined to be as correct, as respectfully ~::eremonious as her mo. ther's scruples could have desired; lmt with that darling, trembling child by my side, how could I? I seated her on a little bench, on which there was barely room for us two, and still retaining her hand, I said, simply, u Gabrielle, your p!l'rents have allowed me to ask you to become my wife-did they speak to you on the subject?"

"Yes ~Sir" "Ami the. thought grieves you?"

There was a pause: I could l'lee that she dared not answer openly.

"Do not be afraid; you are entirely your own mistress; no one will control your inclinations i no one will even persuade you in the matter. I will never see you again if you tell me to go. If it does not make you unhappy I will remain with yon a little while: may I?" 41 Yes, Sir," she whispered.

11 Then don't tremhle so; have confidence in me, for I seek only to make you happy. Look at me, and tell me if I am so ven· formidable."

She raised her eves as if from a habit of o, ~di­ ence, and dropped them again; then looked ._'p again, voluntarily and steadily. The truthful, beautiful eyes l bow I dived into their lustrous

depths ! That look sealed my fate. Gabrielle ceased to tremble. She said little1 but she list. ened willingly; and before I quitted her side she had given me the lily-of~the-valley she had been smelling when I first saw her (I have it still).

Ah ! what a change had taken place in my sensations when I rejoined her mother! I actually embmccd the good lady. ""Well?" she said.

"She is an angel. I haye not deserve!l such happiness. And she will loYc me soon-I know she will. Ah, Madame, how can I thank you enough for such a treasure? And her dress is charming. Pray do not alter it; do not spoil her lovely simplicity; do not make her look ever so little like the ladies of the court."

The good mother was immensely relieved hy my enthusiastic admiration, but she said her daughter must have the trousseau of a lady; and so I came home to my solitary house in a state of elysium.

8th .June.-My suit prospers; each day my Gabrielle (mine!) grows more familiar, more charming; but I feel a sort of panic when I consider her extreme youth and inexperience. She has seen nothing, known notlling; she does not dislike me ; but 1~ith whom could she compare me? 1! 'r mother takes her from house to house to pay the customary callS to her relatives before marriage; but I know too well how such visits are endmed. A kiss on the forehead, with kind congratnlations from the elders, a bow from the young cousins, the distribution of a little box of bonbons, which ohl and young chump with the same relish, and the ceremony is ended, without my t.imid litne Ga. brielle having raised her eyes.

I shudder sometimes as I think of the wretched marriages I have known, &nd fancy that perhaps the poor young bride was taken from her convent to the altar, ignorant and innocent as my betrothed, and that, when it was too late, l1er eyes were opened, and her affections engaged when her duty bound her to another, a stranger!

It was my wish to retire to my chateau of St. Vermont., and there to lead with her such a life as can not exist in this corrupt capital; but her mother, I see, expects her to be presented at court, and I myself feel scruples as to the kindness of se~ lecting her lot for her ere she has experience to judge_ of it for herself.

"Yes, she must ftrst see a little more of life, and here, propos, arrives an invitation from the Yicomte's father, the Marquis de Grandchamps, to a fete champetre at his superb house at St. 1\Iaur.

He tells me I am to meet J\f adame de Vigny and her lovely daughter, in whose honor the fCte is given. Aid I have hardly patience to think of the old libertine carrying her about, and intro. dncing her to his friends, male and female. Jnconsi'stent that I am, is it not what I was just resolving was the juster course of the two?"

11th June.-The most lovely day favored the Marquis's f~te, which was certainly a grand suc-cess. Madame de Vigny offered me a place in her coach ; it is a most antiquated vehicle, and so heavy that her four fat Norman horses could bare~ ly drag it along nt the rate of four miles an hour.

I1ut what mattered the slowness of their pace to me, with Gabl'ielle seated opposite to me, with her bright young face, listening to my account of every thing the journey suggested, particularly the donjon of Vincennes? Ah! I could not resist the temptation of making those large eyes dilate with terror as I related to her, as graphically as I could, some of the horrible adventures of prisoners immured forever within those walls.

"And are there prisoners there now?" she asked, looking sadly at the fortified wolls.

"Yes, many."

"So you said when we passed the Bastile," she answere-d. "Two prisons in one drive, and on such a brilliant summer's day, The good God comfort the .flOor captives!"

I repented of the picturesqueness of my descrip~ tions-alas! in no way exaggerated-wl1en I found that I could not win another smile from her till we came suddenly at a turn of the road upon the Marne, winding here silvery bright in tl1e ~un­ shine, there blue and cool beneath the willows which overhang it. The grounds of the Marquis slope down to t.he water's edge, brilliant with gayly-painted kiosques and Chinese summer-houses.

Poles supporting wreaths of flowers, festooned, marked the approach to the house; and almost ere we had pasMd the gates a group of would.be shep· llerdesses, attired in white and blue brocade, all looped up with roses, and with blue ribbons float~ ing from their crooks, advanced to welcome us and conduct us to the master of the revels. They were his daughters. Three years ago they were as fresh, as girlish as JUY Gabrielle. Now their beauty is entirely obscured by artificial adornments; not a look is unsophisticated, not a gesture is natural.

The fete, as might be expected, was splendid, and very much Gabrielle seemed to enjoy it, e:x.<!.cpt when her modesty suffered as she was brought too prominently fonvard to public notice. I think what pleased hGr most was a delightful concert, ill which the Vicomtc had performed to great perfection a selection from Piccini's ''Dido."

"Ah !" saicl the old .Marquis, observing her de~ light, ' 1 you young people -find pleasure in all that wandering up and down, whkh, to me, is little better than tuning the instruments. If vou had heard Lulli play the violin, so tender, sov simple, yet so wonderful! It is my son who is wild after Piccini; he ordered the concert. He takes his part with snch vehemence that he has written at least twenty satires against Gluck; and at that famous battle at the Palais Royal he is believed to have knocked down about. a dozen G-lUddtes with the feather out of his hat, which was the only weap. on he had at command." u All which,'' I observed, "does not hinder GlUck from being the greatest composer we !Jave ever had, as I hope to prove to 1\lndemoh:elle de Vigny to.morrow at the representation of bis 'Orfeo.'"

The old Marquis smiled. "I should have guessed you were a Ghiekite, always of the .aevere school.

a

(FEBRUARY 14,

1863.

Ah! Mademoiselle, you must enliven your future husband; make him one of us. Do not allow him to frown down upon our innocent frivolity, like a Parisian Cato. Time is so short, why not improve it by gilding its wings, since we can not clip them, and crowning it with flowers, since we can not conceal its old bald bead."

The 1\Iarquis then begged me to lead out Mademoiselle de Vigny for a minuet; but though ber mother nodded approvingly at the proposal, Gabrielle herself grew pale with timidity. She dared neither refuse nor accept.; and most gratefully she thanked me when I assured her that she was there only for her own pleasure, and need do nothing that was painful to herself.

On our return home, as the moon was at t11e full, :Madame de Vigny had caused no footman to attend us with torches-the way, too, beir.g so long; but ihe moon was often obscured by clouds, or concealed Ly the tops of the trees. In passing along the Bois de Vincennes we were for nearly half an hour in darkness. Madame slept profoundlY. Never before had I had my betrothed so entireiy to myself; and from low whispers of affection we sank into a silence more eloquent still of love. I took her hand, and it returnetl the pressure of mine; I could not see her face, but I drew her nearernearer to me-and on her forehead I imprinted the first kiss I had ever dared to take, half fearing the while lest she should resent it; hnt my lips still lingered on hor brow when I felt her dear arms cast around me-her heart was beating against mine, her mouth sought mine. 0 joy! all that I felt for her she felt for me; it was no quiet acquiescence in an inevitable doom; her being had bounded forth to meet mine. Not a vwrd was sa-id, but from that moment I felt she was my wife.

All scruples ceased; it mattered not where she went, or whom she saw, she was mine as volun~ tarily as I was l1ers.

12th .June.-Conducted Gabrielle and her mother to the representation of 11 Orfeo." Ah! poor Gabrielle, bow deeply she was moved-it was all real to her; her eyes ne\'C:' wandered a moment from the stage, and flashed with hope or filled with tears as the story changed; but when at last she sn.w Orpheus about to tum round, unable to bear the importunities of Eurydice, she clasped her hands passionately, and exelaimed aloud, ""Why do you not trust him when be loves you so much!" Involuntarily Eurydice looked tlp to our 'Lox, and so did many others. Poor Gallrielle, covered with confusion, sat as far back as she could, and the crimson had not faded from her neck when De Grandchamps entered.

"I have come to felicitate you," he exclaimed, "What would I not give to believe once more in a play! I can only just remember the sensation, but it was very delightful. Now, you see 1 I'm only wondering whether Orpheus's G sharp will be true. Gluck never before received such praise as yours. I had intended to ask yon if you did not think it dreadfully heavy stuff; but when I saw your f:ICe, !'knew it was useless to try and get any censure from you. You have espoused Delanv nay's tastes before him!lelf."

He spoke in a llantering way, as ·usual, but I could see that he was unusually charmed by the modest grace and beauty of Gabrielle; he looked at her continually, and chatted to her with so much fun, and such a candid confession of all badness, that she was soon vety much entertained with him, and gave him some of those silvery peals of girlish laughter, which he told me 1vere as melodious again as anv air of GlUck's. Returning home, I asked her hOw she liked De Grandchamps.

"I think him very amusing: of course, I do not believe in all the ·wiekedness he pretends to boast of. I suppose, on the contrary, he is Yery good.''

"And why so?"

"He could not be so gay if he were guilty-re~ morse would poison his life. He could not make a jest ofhi.s sins."

Poor innocent Gabrielle! I thought, Is that all thy penetration? then art thou safer with a pro~ tector less guileless thaifthyself. ******,)(.

I have confided to Gabrielle my first design of living with her at St. Vermont, far from the gayeties and Oissipations of Paris, devot.ing onrsel ves to the welfare of our poor neighbors 1 and trying to ameliorate their fate, which is lamentable enough when their lord resides in the capital, and all tiwy know of him are his exactions, God will not alwayS suffer this state of things; there are already signs of coming vengeance, and this war in A mer~ ica will kindle such a love of liberty bere as will not be readily extinguished. Pray God it become not anarchy and brntallicense l Gabriell~ receh·ed my proposal 'vith an enthusiat'!m I bad never before noticed in her. Her convent education ~eems to have fitted ber specially for the life I have most at heart. Yes, she ·v:ill move like a good angel among the poor, healing their bodily sicknesses with medicines and restoratives, and pouring into their moral wounds the wine and oil of her pure faith and touching sympathy. I told ber I feared her mother would not be satisfied-her dreams for the future had been more ambitious.

"Nay," she answered, with l.lC< usual frankness, 1 'rnamma is too well pleased wtth our engageme1Jt to feel di.~appointed at any thing you propose, an(l papa would quite agree with your views of happi~ ness."

Three days more, and she is mine! Ah! how can I &ver make l1er sufficjently happy? the darling who has so willingly confided I1er young life to my care. Only three days!

Dt. Vermont, 24th June.-1\Iid-summer in all its bloom, and we here in the beautiful country to enjoy it. 'Vhat peace, what Serenity, after the excitement of our marriage! The eheckered emotion of separation from Gabrielle's parent~-the journey here-the enthusiastic reception of our good people! Gabrielle is delighted; she says it is a new world, much lMger and grander than the Paris world of fashion, of which she merely took a peep.

FEBRUARY

HARPER'S WEEKLY.

14, 1863.)

She thanks God her lot is placed here. Sweet child! she came to me this morning early, her hands and dress laden with roses still gemmed with dew. "Come with me," she said; "I have gathered these for the altar of our kind Lord: it is the day of St. John: we will go to church together, and thank him-oh l for so much happiness!" and tears purer than the dew on the roses stood in her dark eyes, and a flush of joy more brilliant than their lovely color heightened the beauty of her girlish face. I could only look at her; my heart was too full for words: surely my cup of contentment runs over.

30tk:.-Our sweet retirement ends to.-day. De Grandchamps joins us. He bas not been well, he says, and begs .us to giYe him a change o~ air and a little quiet, lie is welcome, and we Will nurse him well; but we are so happy I can not look upon any change with pl0nsure.

1st Julg.-Certainlythe Vicomte is much altered, and my wife sees it as much as I do. I questioned him as to his dejection, but can not finrl that he has been playing deeper than usual, and I can think of no other loss that would affect him. A good dose of fresh air, be says, will set him up again. " Yes," I added, 11 if you do not die of ennui during the process."

3d.-Gabrie11e looked· sad to-day- perhaps I should rather say very serious-for the first time since our marriage. When we were alone at night, "Gabrielle," I said, ''there .is not to be the faintest cloud between us two : tell me what saddens you."

Her old timidity returned, and her color, which varies so perpetually, went and came. I saw she was struggling with her natural shyness, and I waited patiently, holding her hands in mine to encourage her with my love and tenderness.

"Monsieur de Grandchamps tells me you are so very learned, and I am so ignorant. He said-no, he did not say so, but he-at least I understood him to mean that you would soon be tired of me, that you caxed for nothing but science, literature, and -and-all that I don't understand. I saw that he was much surprised that you should ever have thought of me, and so am I now I reflect upon it."

"Dear Gabrielle! thank you. for telling me.

But I had imagined De Grandchamps far too much of a flatterer for such a speech."

"Oh, he interlarded it with compliments, and said he preferred me as I am, but I did not heed all that, because I was struck with the truth of what he first said-that you were so learned, and I so ignorant."

"I am twelve years older than you, Gabrielle, and certainly not twelve years wiser. But I O\Vn to a great re>ipect for learning, though not leametl myself. Shall we study together P Here, in this quiet place, we shall ha\;e leisure for reading."

"Any thing with you."

4th.-Studv with Gabrielle is not a brilliant success as yet; i't is difficult to manage. Those stupid old nuns have left untaught the very first laws of every thing but embroidery and confectionery, and it is real1y puzzling to know where to LE>gin, so that Ga,Lricl\c may understand me. But if I am obliged to own that my wife has no book-learning, I must say that every fresh test proves her more and more intelligent and really wiBe. She h<.ts always doue the right thing with the most perfect grace, while I have been coosideringwhat was expected of me; but as for books, the poor child yawns; it can not be dissembled, she :positively yawns.

I shall be glad when De Grandchamps returns to Paris. He seems quite well now, and is enjoying himself immensely. Strange that he should, so quiet as is our life. * * * A box from Paris has quite restored my wife's gay .smiles. I suppose because it was a remembrance of her mother; for tlw box seemed to contain nothing but old school-books, working materials, etc.

12tlt.-De Grandchamps gone to a friend a few leagues off. I am afraid I am wanting in hospitality, but I really was not sorry to see him rido off, though he may return a day hence.

14th.-What is the meaning of this? When I went to my wife's boudoir this morning-always as much mine as hers-I found the door locked ; and ·when, after some delay, it was opened, her manner was confused, her face averted from mine.

What does it mean? I had vowed to bear of, to practice, no concealment, and yet somehow I could not explain myself-couhl ask nothing about the hurrietl manner, the locked door.

15tlt.-I fancied, after our little discomfort of yesterday, that Gabrie1le might be embarrassed, colder, perhaps, but she is not. I never saw her more gay, more playfully kind. Ancl yet she has said nothillg satisfactory; she has not even reproached me with not demanding the explanation we had agreed to have on every subject of (;.ifference, be it ever so slight. And yet she lJidesNonscnse, her face is candor itself; she bides nothing. It was a chance, and she has attached no importance to it, has not thought of it again. But why lock the door when she hennl me? i6th.-O misery! she conceals something. I saw her to-day hastily snatch some article from her work-basket and thmst it into her pocket. And yet she carries it off bravely! she is gay, and I I am wretched-tormented with doubts. To-morrow I will know all-at any price I will-I know not why I am silent so long; is it fear ?

17th.-I feigned to go out fishing this morning and returned almost immediately. I went straight up to Gabrielle's room, but as I approached the door I heard her step within fly across the room and hastilv draw the bolt. All calm forsook me" Open ~the door, Gabrielle!"

"Yes, dear, in one moment."

"Instantly, 1\:Iarlame !"

The bolt was withdrawn immediately, and Gabrielle stood there with such a look of fearful perplexity in her large eyes ; I had called her Madame!

"Why did you lock your door?" No answer.

"Why did you lock yoar door?" I repeated, more angrily. Still no answer.

Gabrielle could not prevaricate, but I saw that her frightened looks turned ever to the door of a large closet near the window. ''Give me the key of that closet.''

She obeyed tremblingly, but as I put the key in the lock she rushed forward, and, with a look of most miserable confusion, put her little hands against the door.

"I pray you not to open it!"

For all answer I took both her hands in one of mine (they were such baby hands!), and with a jerk of successful rage burst open the door-as I did so, there came tumbling against me the figure of a large waxen doll! My rival-my skeleton in the closet!

It had been sent in that box which had given her so much pleasure-her old convent doll-her playmate for many years! And I had been jealous of that doll, with which my poor little wife of fifteen played on the sly! As I beheld her round, vacant, rosy face, her staring glass eyes, my first impulse was a burst of laughter, quenched almost immediately in a feeling of such remorseful shame as I hope never to feel again. I had so erred against my most innocent wife that I was ashamed to ask her forgiveness; every attempt, even at apology, would be an insult to a spirit so pure-so incapable of a thought even of evil. What was I to do? A stifled sob from Gabrielle met my e&r. I knelt down and asked her :pardon with most sincere humiliation.

"Forgive you," she ~obbed, "for whatf-will you not despise me forever?"

Her guileless mind had not even understood my insane suspicions; she thought only of her detected childishness. Glad was I to avail myself of her innocence~

"I have been so rude to you, dearest; I have given you pain," I stammered out.

Ah! how much more ashamed was I of my jealousy than she could be of her doll, and how much more ridiculous was I! Dear, dear little Gabrielle!

*******

1st December.-Gabrielle called me this morning to show me the waxen dolly carefully packed up in a box. " Do YOU know for whom I am saving dear old waxy?"~ she asked, with a smile; a smile which has much, much more in it than the old sunbeam of the childish face six months back.

"And yet, Gabrielle," I answered, pointing to some Liliputian needle-work, "yet you are still making doll's clothes?"

"For all your learning you arc only a goose!" was the reply.

Fancy Gabrielle laughing at me in the presence of that doll of which she has been so dreadfully ashamed. Certainly something or other has greatly raised her sense of self-importance.

WHITE ELEPHANTS. \VHF.N.fhe King of Siam has an enemy a~ong his lords whom he detc,sts, but whom it would not be polite to destroy publicly-one who must be dispatched without long delay, but whose poison must be sweetened, and for whom the edge of the axe must be gilded-he sends him a white elephant.

Not that the gift is one of either profit or pleasure, for tl1e brute must not be shot, nor given away, nor put to me11.n uses of hire or labor; he must not carry a howdah nor drag a plow, but must be cared for, and fed, and pampered, and adulated, and kept, like a tough-skinned A pis as he is, in the splendid idleness of a four-footed god. He must have his body-guard and his palace, his attendants and his flatterers; his huge feet may trample down crops and vineyards if it pleases him to walk that way; and his capacious trunk may draw up the last drop of water in the well for his morning bath, while human souls are perishing from drought. All is permitted to him, and he must be ca·red for and indulged first of all the world; for he is the white elephant of royal favOJ·ing, to be received with gratitude and maintained with cost. In the end, the cost is so great that the receiver is ruined and commits suicide-the white elephant having proved as efficacious for punishment as a bow-string or a bowl of poison. All tho better, indeed, because the deadlier design was masked beneath the appearance of consummate favor.

Neither is the kingdom of Siam the only place where one recei-ves white elephants, to the destruction of happiness and life; and that intelligent pachiderm, with his waving trunk and flapping ears, his caution, his cunning, and his 0 fidgetiness," is not the only form in which favors are received. ]'riends and fortune often play the part of Siamese royalty, and offer us gifts of honor quite as ruinous and inconvenient. "'hat is it but a white elephant gift when your brother abroad sends you a huge case of foreign rarities, which you are by no means to part with to dealers or dis~ criminating friends, but must house with reverence-first paying the cost of transit and customhouse dues? You are a poor man, "\Vith narrow boundary lines set against your orchard; your life's acre grows only just enough potatoes for yonr :pigs and children, leaving no surplus borders for greenhouse flowers; nevertheless you are obliged to root up half a dozen rows of that useful, if vulgar esculent, to plant in their place geraniums and fuschias, which give nsitber swill for the swine nor bread for the children. You have to go without essen~ tials for the next six months, that you may load your chimney- pieces with carved ivory baskets holding nothing, and squat deities in filigree silver, not always impeccable with regard to delicacy, and utterly wrong-sided with regard to beauty. And not one of which you would value a farthing, or would regret to see consigned to the dust-heap this very day. Bat your friends congratulate you on tl,~ generosity of your brother abroad; and the virtuosi among them envy you, or tempt you with fiendish offers of fabulous wealth, if you will part with your book of Japanese costumes, or your Ganesa in jade-stone, with Confucius i.n Chinese sil-

ver; or Isis in verdigrised bronze; offers· of fabulous wealth impossible to be accepted, yet for the halfofwhichyouwouldtransfertothem the whole consignment, satisfied if you could get back your original outlay at the custom-house, not to speak of the running account at the framemaker's and the decorator's, not yet brought to a stand-still.

Your brother abroad did not think of all this. He meant only to do you honor, and to giv-e you a white elephant that would exalt your fame far above that of your friends artd neighbors.

Your fatherwin-law did the same when he presented you with a new carpet for your dra-wingroom, on the tenth anniversary of your ·weddingday. It was a bran-new Brussels, all red and green and white and yellow; a gorgeous Brusselfl, worth four times as much as that rr.odcl'!t mo;;scolored Kidderminster which yon were ogling at Shoolbred's. It killed all the shabby furniture of ten years' standing, and reduced to instant and unutterable ruin what harl fo1·merly been nothing more than permissihle decadence. It. made your curtains and your furniture, your paint and your paper, your frames anc: your chandelier~, ~imply impossible; and you found yom~elf some eighty pounds the worse-your experience ot' a white elephant.

1\ly dear wife had a ·white elephant given her, when her mother presented l1er with that mag'nificent brocaded silk, ·which was as stiff as a board and as bright as the sunlight. She could not forbear having it "made up," you know; that was absolutely necessary; but, of course, she would not have it" made up" by little Miss Twopenny, who did her common things well enough, but who was by no means equal to brocaded silk that would "standb:yitSelf." ShemustgotoMadameGmndechose, who had such au fit" and such taste, and rlo dear mamma's :present justice. So she went to Madame Grandechosc; and :Madame Grandechoso undertook her brocade, and furthermore enUghtened her on tha contingent necessities of the situation-on the lace, and the flowers, and the feathers, and the thousand-and-one costly trimmings. which must Je added to do dear mamma's handsome presant justice. My wife found, or rather I diU for her, when the bill came in, that the trappings of her white elephant had cost more than our whole year's clothes of ordinary wear-that mamnla's one brocade came to as much as her entire wardrobe, summer and winter included. Besides, as she very acutely argued, what was the good of a brocade like that if no one saw it? It was a pity to have spent so much money only to lay the brocade by in cedar shavings. As she had a white elephant, it was as well to parade it through the streets; as she had a brocaded silk dress with Madame Grandew chose's taste superadded, it was a social duty to wear it. So we gnve a few dinners anU a fey,· evening parties, and went out as often as we were asked that season; and. by the end of it, I had overdrawn my banker's account several bundrcd pounds, and Johnny was taken from school and put to business a year and a halt' too soon. His mother's brocaded silk stunted mv bov's career for life; which was paying rather d~arl.Y for a white elephant.

I once knew a man who had set his heart on a certain very personable white elephant of his acquaintance; an elepl1ant of power and pre<oence,on whose majestic back he thought he could ren.r a howdah of surpassing grandeur which would shelter his life from the fierce heats of summer and the chill blasts of winter alike, and carry him safely andnoblytohisgoal. Hewasa.poorman,aman without friends or fortune, who aspired to be the husband of a nobleman's dowerless daughter, by whose grand connections he expected to rise to eminence in his profession, and wlwse pO'Nerful iufhwnce he thought wolllld pnll him through any difficulties tbat might beset him. Tlmt was l1is chart of calculation, his Mercator's Projection of the Universe of the future. Hers was the natural desire of the female elephant, whether white or black, for a home paddock and a gallant mate, for a troop of little baby elephants, with their trunks in the air and their knees deep in sweet vernal grass, and for the broad roof-tree, broad enough to &helter lO\'e awl happiness andgraudeur all together; so .!;be 1·esponded to the call, and \Valked lmwely through the gate of the paddock left open for ber. But it did not answcr. That paddock was too small for her ample creamy limbs; the roof-tree too narrow to harbor love and happiness and grandeur in a row; bet· baby elephants tossed up thf>ir trunks ind(;'cd, Lnt it was in disdain at the coarse poor balm which barely coverad their baby toes in place of the sweet Yernal grass which should have grown above their knees; and when, in disgust at the poverty of the provisions offered, she broke down the paddock-gate and marched out into the open, she led her owner into a morass whence he nm•cr shook himself f1 ee until he crawled under the harrow of the lnsolvcut's Court, and emerged with scratches his back that bled and festered always. His elephant did for him what all white elephants for their owners; and whon the end of time came, he lay on the road of life a mangled ·wreck, with the print of an elephant's foot on his head.

Another white elephant that I know o~ Lrought her own trappings a'nd provision with her. She waB a rich ·wife, with a dowry that would ha vc satisfied the most exacting. Surely tl~ere was no ruin looming in the distance here l If a creature brings its own corn, may it not eat safely in your manger? If it supplies its own silk and satin, can you not stitch up its howdah without pricking your fingers to the bone? The furtunate- posseMor of this special white elephant brou~ht her to his home which her gold had gilded, and led her into the park which her acorns had phmted; and he gave her full permission to walk beneath her own avenues, and eat the topmost branches of her own seedling;1; to strengthen her manger ·with golden plates if she liked, provided she hamn.ered them herself out. of the nugg-ets of her 0"-11 p·..-.lrl mines. So she did. But she ate so mci, seedlings than her own acorns had pianted, and she strengthened her manger with goldeu plates

107 so outrageously thick, that in time she exhausted her supplies. 'fhen she fed out of her owner's manger until she ate him up, body and bones.

The wife was rich, but the woman was extravagant; aml this special white elephant turned out in the end one of the most destructive of the tribe.

And among the biggest and whitest of the herd are and have been royal visits to favored noLlemen. Very much flattered and honored was courtly Leicester \vhen the high-starched ruff of the Leonine Vir.a;in quivered beneath the lights of Kenilworth. Here was a white elephant whose sleek sidefl ·were worthy to lJc regarded and envied of all mankind ! Here was a qt1adrupcd of strength, with dim forecasting.<> of pos,:;iLlc howdal1s, and a swift nnrl steady Learillg to the big·lwst voint of the hill of fortune! Bt,t poor LPicester was no better off than the Siamese nobleman \Yhom his ldllg delights to favor left-handerlly, His qneen's grace was the wl!ite eJepll:mt of his life-mo\vi11g do\;·n inesistiblv all the drtues anil niil;lenesses of soul that might have borne good;y Clr,ps. If he had never been so gi.ftcU, he might have lhed a happy man and haYc died an ho1Jest one, r~ud the :c.hadc of poor p.:llc Amy would not l1ave haunted his waking hours, and crime and disbonor would not have ho\vled from the depths of the troubled past. Bnt he kow-towerl to his white cl0phant, nml fell down and wor:;hiped itr and kissed the dust from its feet, and spread out the tender lJranches of love and honor in its way, and the big feet trampled them down step by step, and tossed them like refuse: and then he died, and he, too, '""as counterl but as l'efuse among men. Essex did the same; hut he crawlerl about the white elephant's feet with such abased hardihood, that at last ha got kicked heavily out of the way, with his lifo torn right asunder, and the manhood trampled out ofhim. Allforthesakeofkow-towingtoaqueen, and bartering truth and life for a erowned old co~ qt1ette's false sm1les.

I remember how mightily I was enchanted and honored when my Lally ..Fairstar did me the unfathomable honor of asking me to dine at her splen,.. did mansion in a glorified region of Belgravia! It seemed to me, then a poor stt"uffgling bal"l'ister on a mythical yearly allowance, that 1 was on the Ligh-road to fortune at once, nnd that I had only to follow nw Lady li'airstar's cavalcade to be lund. ed safe in tilC ve1:y l1eart of the gardens of Aidann without delav. I went. I made no manner of doubt that I "·ent to fascinate and to subdue, and that I should make such deep dints on the heart of our delightful hostess as not even the incessant l'llhbiug of high life would be able to efface. AiHl certainly my lady was gracious to me. But I found in the end that all I had made by the white elephant of her countenance was a portentous Lill at my tailor's, another portentous Lill at my bootmaker's, au unnecessary supply of embroif.ered shirt-fronts and French cu.mbric handkerchiefs, and nw laundreFs left unpairl owing to the transfer of.her funds to the pockets of the cabmen·.

That was what I fouud when I took the two columns and added up the cost and i.he gain of my Lady Fairstar's Tius.c.ian dinners, with scented ringlets la11ghinp;ly shaken and bewildering smiks prodigally bcf;towed. It was a white elephantnothing but a wl1itc elephant; and I r«n away from it. Those grand Yisi1s arc terriLle matters c;enerallv. You are asked to a country-home.

You are· acknowler1gerl to be a crack sho.t, and a first-rate rider; yen tell a story capitally, and pocket eYery hall on the hoard; Lut at what a cost do yr'n thus ailminister to the white elephant of your pride? At the cost of a year's income compressed into the six weeks ot' your sta:'"·· Butlers and footmen and pages and grooms and gillics and coachmen and the odd mf'n ahont the place, and the odd "·omen too-all to fee, all to pay-and the little wife left at home to fight ·with an unruly butcher who has undisciplined notions of trade, and to tell taradiddles to the landlord, who finds himself under the necessity of "looking you up." That is your white elephant when you get Lord Darkstar's invitation to his country seat in the hunting season.

There are all sorts of white elephants in our path! big and little, ·wild and tamed, tw~hers and toothless, of all heig:hts, of all weights, of all hues.

A patent of nobility to a poor gentleman with a miniature rent-roll bound in duodecimo, is a \dlite elephant of tremenrlous appetite; so is knighthood to the honest leather-dressel' made mayor of the town by the inadvertence of fort.nuc, who ofl'ers the keys of the ancient city to her l\Iajesty, andrecei,.res them back with the label of Sir. ·what is it b!lt. a whitn elephm1t when that a--"ist frienrl ofyom·s gcucrously presents you with a p. vof before letters of his o'\"11 engraviiJg? You don't -.v<:nt hi.'> proof before l(~tter::; you have quite as many pictures on your walls anU Lrackets, and nkk-kn<J.eks and ornaments, as you cure for, and yo~< really can not afford a frame of sufficient quality to match the excellence of the engr<Iving, according to yovr friend's arithmetic. Ye~, it will not tlo to dishonor his \vhite elephant. You must frame your cngravin(.:{i! in gilded can·ing, and stud.v ·which is the Lest light as rdigiomdy ns you ,,-onld studv the Koran if you were a :\Iussulman, or the ShaSters if you were a Brahmin. Your grandmother, in a blue sash and mnshroom.ltat, is made to turn her back on yom grandfather in a full bottomed perhyig and 1'nntf-colored coat, that yuur friend's proof may have the post of honor on the wall; your favorite Clyte is dismounted from the br<tckct that your friend's proof may not be oYershadowecl in the extreme left-haurl cornet' jttst before sunset; and when you haYe done all this, you find that the new r;ilding makes the old look deplora1Jly shabby, a\d that you must have your whole ·wall-decorat: m retouched, because of this new bright bit of t,,olr1wleaf. Is not this a white elephant? I often \Vish that there Welie no such thing as a white el, pha.nt, and that when people make presents or bestow honors, the~ would gi_ve ·"M'"' >ras useful, and not a g~eat glarmg magmfi-~~:.N Jhi<:h makes every tlung else look mean.

White elephants Jo not do in donkey stalls: which is a great fact too often overlooked.

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THE BATTLE 01!' MURFREESBORO, TENNESSEE-CENTRE OF THE ARMY ON 2D JANUARY,

1863.-SKETCIIED :&Y

Mn.

HENRY

R.

HiiBNER.-[SEE PAGE

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HARPER'S WEEKLY.

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COLCII, CO\fl\iANDl:-..U- TdE lUCJIT Glt.i.KD DIVISION OF THFl .\ R"'fY OP THE POTOMAC.

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STOJSEWALL

[i'f!OTOGClAl'liUP I"Y Tl"RAIJY.}

G&N'TmAr_. coucn.

Genrral Darius N. Couch wns born in New York nbout the year 18'!6, enterci'l ·west Point in 1842, grnduated in the artillery in 18461 and went with his regiment (the Second Artillery) to Mexico, At the battle of Buena Vista he wrts Urevetterl First Lieutenant for gallant and mf'ritoriouo conduct.. At the ciOi!e of the war Lieutenant Conch resigned hi~> nmk in the army and settled in MnssnchiJsetts.

At the ontbreak of the rebellion lle joined t-he Volunteers, and left Boston at the head of a well-appointed regiment. ln Mrty, 1861, he wail nppointed Drigaclier-Gcncral of VoluntecTI', In all the battles on the Peninsula Ganeral Uourh provr.d him~elf a gallant and able soldier; and when General Sumner resig-ned there was little hesitation in appointing him to the ntcancy.

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109

HAHPEH'S WEEKLY.

110

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to which she accompanied her father-it was at the old lady's house who cha11eroncd her to the usscmhlics-she was taken into dinner by a young clergyman staying in the neighborhood.

He had just had a smallliYing given to him in his own county, and he fd~, as if this was a great step in his life. He was good, innocent, and rather boyish in appe1uance. Ellinor was hapPY and at her case, and chatted away to this 1\fr. I,ivingstone on many little points of interest which they found they h:::.d in common; church mmdc, and the difficulty they had of getting people to sing in parts; Salisbury Cathedra~ which they haJ both seen; styles of church architecture, Ruskin's works, and parish schools, in ·which Mr. Livingstone \Yas somewhat shocked to find lhat Elliuor took no grE•at interest. \Vhcn the gentlemen came in from the dining-room it r;truck Ellinor, for the first time in her life, that her father had taken more wine than was good for him. Indeed, thi;; h~1d rather become a habit with him of late; but as he always tried to go quietly off to his O\VU room when such had been i'hc case, l1is daughter had never been made aware of jt llr~forc, and the perception of it now made her checks hot \vith shame. She thought

A DARK NIGH 'l" S W0 RK. ~~~·~,~:,~~r0~1~d~~~; ~~ ,;e~~f~~~~~,,~~ ~!~,:~~~ci Dy the Authm· of" l'riary Barton," etc.

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1'roprietors

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.Mr. Livingstone about parish schools, any thing, with 1·edoublcd vigor and apparent interest, in

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CHAPTER VI. ly of her behavior was far more than AT Easter-just when the heavens and earth she had intended. She kept Mr. Livingstone, were looking their dreariest, for Easter feU very it is true, from observing her father; but she early thi'i,. year-Mr. Corbet came tlmvn. 1\Ir. also riveted his attention on herself. He had "Wilkins was too busy to see much of him; they thought her very pretty and agreeable during were together even less than usual, although not dinner; but after dinner he considered her beJessfriendlywhenthcydidmeet. Butto:Ellinor witching, irresistible. He dreamed of her all the visit was one of unmixed happiness. Hith~ night, and wakened up the next morning to a erto :-;he had ehYays had a little fear mingled up calculation of how far his income would allow with her love of l\h. Corbet; but his mnnners him to furnish his pretty new parsonage with were softened, his opinions less decided and ab~ that cmwning blessing, a wife. For a day or rupt, ~md his whole treatment of her shovwd two he did up litt.Ie sums, and sighed, and thought such tenderness that the young girl basked and of Ellinor, her face l~tening with admiring inreveled in it. Ono or twO of their conversations tcrest to his sermons, her arm passed into his as had refere"ncc to their future married life in they went together round t.he parish, her sweet J~ondon; and she then perceiYed, although it voice instructing classes in his schools- tum did not jar agaimt her, that l1er lover had not where he would, in his imagination Ellinor's forgotten his ambition in his love. He tried to presence rose up before him. inoculate her with sometl1ing of his own craving The cOnsequence was thm he 'i\'Tote an offer, for success in life; but it was all in vain: she which he found a far more perplexing piece of nestled to him and told l1im she did not care to composition than a sermon; a real hearty exbe the Lord Chancellor's wife-wigs and wool- pression of love, going on, over all obstacles, to a sacks w-ere IJOt in her line; 011ly if he wished it, straightforward explanation of his present prosshe would wish it. peC'ts and future hopes, and winding up with the The last two days of his stay the weather information that on the succeeding morning he changed. Sudden heat burst forth, as it docs would call to know whether he might speak to oecasionallv for a few houn; even in our chillv l\{r. \Vilkins on the subject of this letter. It was English sp.ring. The gray~brown bushes and given to E!linor in the e.-ening, as she was sittrees started almost with visible progress into ting with Miss l\fonro in the library. Mr. "\Viithe tender green shade which is the forerunner kins was dining: out, she hardly knew where, as of the bmsting leaves. The sky was of full it was a sudden engagement, of whi~h he had cloudless blue. 1\tlr, \Vilkins was to come home sent 'vord from the office-a gentle:rr_an's dinpretty early from the office to rille ont with his ncr-party, she supposed, as he had dressed in daughter and her lover; but after ·waiting some Hamley without coming home. Ellinor turned time for him, it grew too lute, and they were over the letter when it was brought to her, as obliged to give up the project. Nothing would fmme people do when they can not recognize the servo Ellinor, then, but that sbe mnst carry out handwriting, as if to disco..-..lr from paper or seal a table and haYe tea in the garden, on the sunny what two moments would assure them of if they side of the t;:ee, among the roots of which sbJ opened the lettjr and looked at the .signature. used to play when a child. :Miss Monro object- Ellinor could not guess 'vho had written it by cd !.l. little to this cupric€' ofEllinor':'l, ~<nying that any outward sign; but the moment she saw the it was too early for out-of.door meals; but Mr. name "Herbert Livingstone" the meaning of the Corbet overruled all objections, and helped Elli- letter flashed upon her, and she colored all over. nor in her gay vrcparlltiom. She always kept to She put the letter a\vay, unread, for a few minthe early hours of her childhood, although she, utes, and then made some excuse for leaving as then, regularly sat with her father at his late the room and going up stairs. \Vhen safe in dinner, and this meal, al~frcsco, was to be a l'Col- her l1edchamher, she read the young man's eager ity to her and 1\Ji~s Monro. There was n place worUs with a sense of self~ reproach. How must arranged for her father, and she !'eized upon l1im !'he, engaged to one man, have been behaving to as he was coming from the stable-yard, by the another, if this was the result of one evening's shrubbery path, to his study, and with merry intcniew? The self~reproach was unjustly beplayfulness made him a prisoner, accusing him stmvcd; but with that we have nothing to do.

Df disappointing them of thch· ride, nnrl draw- She made hersc]f.very miserable; and at 1ast ing him, more than half unwilling, to his chair went down, with a heavy heart, to go on with by the table. But he was silent, and almost Dante, und rummage up words in the dictionsad; his presence damped them all, they could ary. All the time she seemed to Miss :Monro to hardly tell why, for ho did not object to any be plodding on with her Italian more diligently thing, though he !'cemod to enjoy nothing, aud and sedately than usual she was planning in 011ly to force a smile at :Ellinor's occasional sd- her O\vn mind to go to her father as soon as he lies. These became more and more rare, as sl1e rctu~-ncd (and he had said that he should not be perceived her father's J.cpr~ssion. She watehPd late), and k_g him to undo the mischief she had him anxiously. He perceived it, and snid- done h:y seeing )lfr. Lh·ingstone the next mornshiverinr, in that strange unaccountable manner iug, and franl~ly explaining the real :,;tate of nfwhich is popularly explained bj the expressiun f11i1·.~· to Me1. But she w.antcd to read her letter that some one is pD.!lsing over the earth that wi11 ngai11, and think it all over in peace; anJ so, at one day form your gravean eH.rly hour, she wished Miss Monro good" Ellinor! this is not a day for out-of~door nigl1t, and went up into her own room aboYc tea. I never felt so chilly a spot in my life. I tl1e drawing~room, and overlooking tho flowcrf'an not keep from shnking -..vhere I sit. 1 must garden nnd shrubbery. path to the stable-yard, lenYC this place, my deal', in spite of all your by which her father 'vas sure to rctmn. She good tea," \'\:cnt up stairs and studied her letter well, and '' Oh: papa! I nm so sorry. But look how tried to recall all her speeches and conduct on fnll that hot sun's rays come on this turf. I that miserable eYening-as she thought it then, thought I had chosen Such a capital spot!" not knowing 'vhat true mh;ery was. Her head But he got up and pcrsisteU in leaving the ached, and sl:e put out tl10 candle, and went and table, although he was evidently sorry to S}loil sat on the window scat, looking out into the the little party. He walked up and down the moonlit garden, watehing for her f8.ther. She gravel walk, close by them, talking to them ns opened the v'lindow, J>:1rtly to cool her forehead," he kept passing by, and trying to cheer them up. partly to enable her to call dovm softly ·when "Are you w:.:•·mer now, papa?'' asked Ellinor. she should see him coming along. By-and.by "Oh yes! all ri;_:,;'lat. It is only that place that the door from the stahle~yard into the shrubbery seems so chilly and damp. I am as WtQ'ffi us a clicked and opened, and in a moment she saw toast now."

J\-h'. "\Yilkins moving through the bushes, hut not The next morning Mr. Corbet left them. The a1onc: Mr. Dnnstor was with him, and the two unsL~asonably fine wea~hcr passed away too, and wcrC' tnll::ing t.ogct.her in rather excited tones, all things went back to their rather gray and immmliatcly lost to hc:1ring, howeyer, as they dren.ry aspect; but Ellinor was too·havpy to feel entered )fr. \Yilkins's :-;tndy by tho outer door.

11 this much, kno,ving what absent love existed fur They have lJC('H dining together somewhere. her alone, and from this knowledge unconscious.. rroktbly at 1\fr. Hanhnry's" (the 'Hamley brew~ ly trusting in the sun behind the clonds. er), ~hought Ell in or. "But how provoking that I have sait1 that few or none in the immedi- he shonlU have come homo with papa this night ate neighborhood of Hamley, bcsidcg their own 1 of all nightB !" lwusehold and Mr. Ness, knew of Ellinor's en- I 'l\vo or three timeR hefore Mr. Dut]ster had gagement. At one of the mre dinner-parties I ~;ailed on Mr. \Villdns in the evening, as Ellinor

============

knew; but she >ms not quite aware of the reason for such late visits, and had never put together the two facts (as cause and consequence) that on such occasions her father had been absent fmm the office all day, and that there might be necessary business for him to trunsact, the urgency of which was t.hc motive for Mr. Dunster's visits. l\Ir. -Wilkins always seemed to be annoyed by his coming at so late an hour, and spoke of it, resenting tho intmsion upon his leisl rre; and Ellinor, without consideration, adopted her father's mode of speaking and thinking on 1he subject, and was rather more angry than he was whenever the obnoxious partner came on msiness in the evening. This night was of all nights the most ill~purposcd time (so Ellinor the ught) for a tete-b..tete with her father. Iloweve ·, there was no doubt in her mind as to what sho had to do.

So late as it was, the unwelcome visitor could not stop long; and then she would go down and have her little confidence with her father, and brig him to see Mr. Livingstone when he came the next morning, and dismiss him as gently as might be.

She sat on in the window- seat, dreaming waking dreams of future happiness. She kept losing her~c;elf in such thoughts, and became almost afraid of forgetting why she sat there.

Presently she felt cold and got up to fetch a shawl, in which she muffied herself and resumed her pln.ce. It seemed t.o her growing very late; the moonlight was coming fuller and fuller into the garden, and the blackness oft he shadow was more concentrated and stronger. Surely Mr. Dunster could not have gone away along the dark shrubbery-path so noiselessly but what she must have heard him? No! there was the swell of voices coming up through the window from her father's stuG.y: angry voices they were; and her ~ger rose sympathetically, as she knew t.hat her father was being irritated. There was a sudden movement, as of ch:Urs pushca hastily aside, and then a mysterious, unaccountable noise, heavy, sudden; and then a slight move~ ment as of chairs again; and then a profOund stillness. Ellinor leaned hm· head against the side of the window~ to listen more intently, for some mysterious instinct mar!e her sick and faint. No sonnU-no noise. Only by-and·hy she heard, ·what we h:we all heard at such times of intent listening, the beating of the pulses cf her heart, and then the whirling rush of blood through her head. How long did this last?

She never knew. .dy-and-by she heard her fathor's hurried footstep in his bedroom, next to hers; but when she ran thither to tipcak to him, and ask him what was amiss-if any thing had been-if she might come to him now about l\fr.

Livingstone's Jetter, she found thi;lt he had gone down again to his study, and almost at the same moment she heard the little private outer~door of that room open; some one went ont, and then there were hurried footsteps along the shrubbery path. She thought, of course, that it was Mr. Dunster leaving the house, ~nd went back for Mr. !Jivingstone's letter. Having found it, she passed through her father's. room to the private staircase, thinking that if she 'vent by the more regular way she would have run the risk of disturbing Miss Monro, and perhaps of being questioned in the morning. Even in passing down this remote staircase she trod softly for fear of being overheArd. \Vhen she entered the room the full light of the candles dazzled her for an instant, coming out of the darkness. They \vere flaring wildly in th_e draught that came in through the open door, by which the outer air was admitted; for a moment there seemed to be no one in the room; and then she saw, with strange sick horror, the legs of some one lying on the carpet behind the table. As if compelled, even while sl1e shrank from doing it, she went round to sec ''"ho it was that lay there, so still and motionless as never to stir at her t>udden com~ ing. It was l\lr. Dunster; his head propped on chair-cushions, his eyes open, staring, distended. There vms ,a strong smell of brandy and hartshorn in the room; a smell so powerful as not to be neutralized by tho free current of night air that blew throuilt the two open doors.

Ellinor could not have told if it was reason or instinct that made her act as she did during this awfnlnight. In thinking of it aftenvard, with shuddering avoidance of the hmnting memory that \vould com..; ~uJ overshadow her during many, many years of her life, she grew to believe that the powerful smell of the spilled brandy absolutely intoxicated her-an unconscious Hechabite in practice. But something gave her a prct.encc of mind and a courage not her own.

And though she learned to think afterward that she had acted unwbcly, if not wrongly and )vickedly, yet she marveled, in recalling that time, how she could have then behaved as she diU. First of all she lifted herself up from her fascinated gaze at the dead man and went to the staircas<.: door, by which she had entered the study, and shut it softly. Then she went Qrick -looked again; took the brandy bottle, and knelt down, and tried to pour some into the month ; but this she found she could not do.

Then she wetted her hanUkerchicfwith the spil'it and moistened the lips, all to no purpose; for as I have said before tl:e man was dead-killed by a rupture of a vessel of the brain; how occasioned, I must tell by~and-by. Of conrse, all Ellinor's little cares and efforts produced no effect; her father had tried them before-vain ondea>ors all to bring back the precious breath of life! The poor girl could not bear the look of those open eyes, and softly, tenderly, tried to close them, although unconscious that in so doing, she was rendering the pious offices of some beloved hand to a dead man. She was f:itting by the body on the floor 1\'hen she heard steps ccming, with rushing and yet cautious tread, through the shrubbery ; she had no fear, although it might be the tread of robbers and murderers. The awfulness of the hour raised her

[FEDRUARY

14, 1863.

above common fears; though she did not go through the usual process of reasoning, and by it feel as.'lurcd that the feet which were coming,' so Roftly and swiftly along, were the same wLich she had heard leaving the room in like manner only a quarter of an hour before.

Her tather entered, and started back, almost upsetting some one behind him hy l1is recoil, on seeing his daHghter in her motionless attitude by the dead man.

"My God, Ellinor! what has brought you here?" he said, almost fiercely.

But she answered, as one stnpefied: "I don't know. Is he dead P" n Hush, hush, child; it can not be helped.''

She raised her eyes to the solemn, pitying, awe-stricken face behind her fathcr's-the countenance of Dixon.

"Is he dead?" s·be asked of him.

The man stepped forward, rcspeetfully pushing his master on one side as he did so. He bent down over the corpse, and looked, and li-<tened, and then, reaching a cn.ndle off the tahle, he Bigned Mr. "Wilkins to close the door. And 1\fr.,Vilkins obeyed, and looked with an intensity of eagerness almost amounting to faintness on the experiment, and yet he coultl not hope.

The flame was steady-steady and pitilessly nnstirred, even when it was adjusted close to month and nostril; the head was raised up by one of Di."-on's stalwart arms, wl1ile he held the canUle in the other hand. Hili nor fancied that there was some trembling on Dixon's part, and grasped his wrist tightly in order to give it t.he requisite motionless fh·mness.

All in vain. The head was placed again on tlJC cushions, the senrant rose and stood by his mnster, looking sadly on the dead man, whom, living, 11onc of them had liked or eared for, and Ellinor sat on, quiet and tearless, as one in a trance.

"How was it, father?" at length she asked.

He would fain have had her ignorant of all, but so questioned by her lips, so adjured by her eyes, in the very prc·sence of death, he could not choose but speak the truth; he spoke it in convulsive gasps, each sentence an effort: ''He taunted me-he was in.~olcnt, beyontl my patience- I could not bear it. J strur-k him-I Cfln't tell how it was. He must haYehit his bead in falling. Oh, my God! one little hom ago I was innocent of this man·~> blood!" He covered his face with lJis hands.

Ellinor took the candle ag:1in; kneclin;; behind Mr. Dunster's head, she tried the futile experiment once more.

"Could not a. doctor ilo some good?" she asked of Dixon, in a low, hopeless Yoke.

"No l" said he, shaking his head, and looking with a sidelong glance at his master, who t:cemed to shrivel up and to shrink a>vay at the bare snggestion. "Doctors can do naught, I'm a feared.

All that a doctor could do, I take it, would be to open a vein, and that I l'<!onld t1o along with the best of them, if I had but my fleam here." He fumbled in his pockets as he spoke, and, as chance would have it, the "fteam" (or cattle~ lancet)was somewhere about his dress. He drew it out, smoothed and tried it on his finger. Ellinor tried. to bare the arm, but tnrned sick as she did so. Her father started eagerly forward, and did what was necessary with hurried, trem~ bling hands. If they had cared less about the result, they might have been more afraid of the consequences of the operation in the hands of one so ignorant as Dixon. But, vein or artery, it signified little; no living blood gushed out; only a little watery moisture followed the cut of the fleam. They laid him back on his strange, sad death-couch. Dixon spoke next.

"Master Ned," said he-for he had known Mr. Wilkins in his days of bright, careless Loyhood, and nlmost was carried baek to them by the sense of charge and protection which the servant's presence of mind and sharpened senses gave him over his master on this dreary night -"Master Ned, we must do summut."

No one spoke. \Vhat was to be done?

"Did any folk see him come here?" Dixon asked, after a time. Ellinor looked up to hear her father's ansv.,.er, a wild hope coming into her. mind that aU might be concealed somehow; she did not know ho"·, nor did sl1e think of any consequences save of saving her father from the vague dread tronl1le and punishment that she wa;; aware would await him if all were known.

Mr. 'VHkins did not seem to hear; in fact, he did not hear any thing but the unspoken echo of his own last words that went booming through his heart: "An honr ago I was innocent of this man's blood! Only an hour ago l" Dixon got up and poured out half a tnmblerfnl of raw spirit from the brandy-bottle that stood on the talJle. "Drink this, Master Ned," putting it to his master's lips. "Nay"-to Ellinor-"it will do him uo harm; only bring back his senses, which, poor gentleman! are scared rnvay. 'Ve shall need all our wits. Now, Sir, please to answer my question. Did any one see Measter Dunster come here?H "I don't know," said Mr. Wilkins, recover~ ing his speech. "It all seems in a mist. He offered to walk home with me; I did not want him. I 'vas almost rude to him to keep him off. I did not want to talk of business. I had taken too mucl1 wine to be very clear, and some things at the office were not quite in order, and he had found it out. If any one heard our conversation they must know I did not wm1t him to come with me. Oh! why would he come?

He was as obstinate-he would come-and here it has been his death!"

"Well, Sir, what's done can't be undone, and I'm sure we'd any of us bring him back to life if we could, eYen by cutting oft· our hands. though he was a mighty plaguy chap while l10'd breath in him. But what I'm thinking is thi:o: it wiil,

FEBRUARY

HAHP:Ea't'S WEEKLY.

14, 1863.)

maybe, go awkward v'lith you, Sir, if he is found here. One can't say, But don't you think, miss, that, as he's neither kith nor kin to mi:os him, we might just bury him away before morning some-..vhere? There's better nor four hours of dark. I \Vif'h we could put him in the churchyard) but that can't be; but t.o my minU the sooner we set about digging a place for him to lie in, poor fellow! the better it '\Vill be f0r us all in tlle end. I can pare a piece of turf up 1vhcre it \Vi1l never be mio;seJ, awl if m:.tster will take one sp::Hk, and l anuther, \vhy, \vc'll lay him softly down, and cover him up, and no one will be the wi><er .. , There was no repl,v from either for a minute or so. Then 11:r. ·wilkins said: "If my father could have known of my Jiying to this l Why, they will try me as a criminnl; and you, Ellinor! Dixon, you arc right. \Vc must conceal it, or I must cut my throat, for I never could live through it. One minute of passion, and my life blasted!"

"Come along, Sir," said Dixon; "tbarc's no time to lose." And they went out in search of tools-Ellinor following them, shivering all over, lmt begging that she might he with, them, and not have to remain in the study withShe would not be hidden into her uwn room i she dreaded inaction and solitude. She made herself busy with carrying heavy baskets of turf, and straining her strength to the utmost; fetching all that was wanted, with soft swift steps.

Once, as she passed near the open stndy door, Ehe thought that she heard a rustling, and a flash of hope came across her. Could he be reviving? She entered, but a moment was enough to undeceive her; it had only been a night rustle among the trees. Of hope, life, there was none.

They dug the hole deep and wen, working with fierce energy to quench thought and remol·se.

Once or twice her father asked for brandy, \Vhich Ellinor, reassured by the apparently good effCct of the first dose, brought to him without a word; and once, at her father's s~;~ggcstion, she brought food, such as she could find in the dining-room without disturbing the household, for Dixon. '\Vhen all was ready for the reception of the body in its unblessed gr:n~, :!111·. 'Wilkins bnde Ellinor go up to her room, she had done all she could to help them; the rest must be done hy them alone. She felt that it must; and indeed. both her nerves and her bodily strength were giving y,-ay. She would ha>e ki:'sed her father as he sat wearily at the head ofthegmve-Dixon had gone in to make some arrangement for carrying the corpse- but he pushed her tt\Yay quietly but resolutely: "No, Nelly, you must never kiss me again; I am a murderer."

"But I will, my own darling papa," said she, throwing her arms pa3sionate1y round his neck, and covering llis face with kisses. "I love you, and I don't care what you arc, if you were twenty times a murderer, which you arc not; I am sure it was only an accicknt."

"Go in, my chikl, go in, and t:r:r to rest. But go in, for we must finish-:1s as we can. The moon is down; it will soon be daylight. ·what a bles:-ing thm e arc no l'Ooms on one side of the house. Go, Nelly.'' And she v..-ent; straining hCJ·sc]f np to mm·e noif-!0lessly, with eyes averted, through tlw room which she shuddered at as the place of lu:tsty and unballm-ved death.

Once in her own room, she bolted the door on the inside, and then stole to the wind(nv, us if :some fascination impelled lwr to watch all tlw proceedings to the end. But her achin;~ eyes could hardly penetrate through the thid;: da:-knei!s which, at the time of the year of which I am speaking, so closely precedes the dmm. bhe could dbccrn the top::; of tho tw:s against the sky, and CO(lld single ont t.hc well-knc,wn one, at a lilt]e distanee from the stem of which the Ym..; mnde, in tho very piece of turf over so btely she and Halph ha(1 had their merry little tea-mnking; and '''lwre her father, as ~,he now remembered, had shuddered and shivc,·cd as if tho gronnd on which his ~cat h.td then b:cen placed was fateful and ominous to him.

Those lwiuw moved softly antl quicrly in all they did; butcTery sound had a significant nud trrdhle interpretation to Ellino1·'s cars. Dcfure they had ended the little birds had begun to pipe ont their gay r6;ceillC to the dawn. Then doors c1ost>d, and all was profounllly still.

Ellinur threw herself, in her clothes, on the bed; and was thankful for t.hc intense, weary, physical pain which took. off something of the anp;:1i-~h of thought, anguish that she fancied from lime to time was leading to insanity.

By-aml-hy the morning cohl maJc her instinctively en:ep between the blankets, and, once there, 1<hc fell into a Jead, heavy sleep.

The years have come and gonenave flown I know not whereAnd t.he school-boy's merry face Is grave with manhood's care; But the heart of the man still beats At the well-remembered name, And on this St. Valentine's Day His choice is still the same.

111

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Thera was a time-ah! well: Think not that I ropineVVheu I dreamed this ha}Jpy day 'Vo,r ould &milo on you as mine; But I heart! my country's cull; I knew· her need was sore: Thank God, no sclfi.,h ih1,.ught 'Vit.hl.teld me from the war.

Eut when the dear old Flag Shall float in its ancient prideWhen the twain shall be made one, And fends no more divic.lcI will lay my musket down, :My martial garb resign, And turn my juyom; feet Tmvard lwmc an<l V ;,tlentinc.

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J TJST from the sentry's tramp (I must take it :1gain at ten), I have laid my musket down, And o:eized instead my pen; For, pacing my lonely round In the chilly twilight gray, The thongl1t, dear Mary, came That this is St. Valentine's Day. And with the thought there came .1.\ glimpse of tho happy time, \Yhcn a school-boy's first attempt I sont you, in borrowed rhyme, On a gilt-edged sheet., embossed 'Vith many a quaint design, And signed, in school~boy hand, ''Your loving Valentine.''

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HARPER'S WEEKLY.

[FEBRUARY

14, 1863.

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PE.\.RL STREET, NEW YORK, KILBY RTREF.T, BOSTON.

HARPER & BROTHERS CONFEDERATE r:RE:BELJ MONEY. Fac-Simile Confederate Treasury Notes.

So exactly like the genuine th:>t Whflre. one will pnss current the other will go equally well. $500 in Confeder· ate~~:; of all denomination~. s~t fr~e by mail on receipt of $!Jt by W. 1<1. HII~TdN, 11 Sprut'e Stre~t, New York.

!Ieve ,Tu,!jt R&''dy: ME!I-IOffiB OF MRS. ,TOANNA BETHtN'E.

I>y her Son,

~~~t~:-,,~~~t'!M~f=NJ:CD~iti~i~~ ~~fi~~h~!~: Droo,t:ltltt-,$100.