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RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 1854.
WHOLE NO. 144.
WILLIAM-D. COOKE,
- - i i
I- i
SELECTED STORY.
. From the Southern Literary Messenger.
THE POET AND THE PEASANT.
Translated from the French of I'Jmile Sourestrt.
A young man was walking in the forestwhich
Lr r- m e. i:i.
separates 7 .uarie aux .nines, irom iuiwuiirc,
and notwithstanding the shades of the evening
were gathering fast around him, and tjie fog in
crease 1 hi denseness each mpment, he still con
tinued his sauntering gait, utterly regardless of
the weather or the hour. ins green nunting
dress, his doeskin gaiters, and the elegant fowl
. t i i' i i-f
ing-pieee wnicn ne earned m ms oamioieei,
would have proclaimed him a huntsman if the
1 . 1 .. . K . . . . i. , . .. ......... l.Off T 1 .1 . l Tl if U -
traved the dreamer for whom the pursuit of
'.game," was but a pretext for indulging in his sol
itary musings. Even his meditative carelessness
belied his hunting eouinments, and proved that
Arnold de Munster thought far less of observing
the tracks of the wild their devious windings,
the fanciful thoughts denizens of the forest, than
in following in all his poetical imagination had
called -before him. They rested for a few mo-
inents upon his tanniy ana tne menus ne uau
.left at Paris. -.lie recalled the elegant studio
adorned with fanciful engravings, curious paint
ings and exquisite statuettes ; the sweet uerman
melodies, sung by his lovely and beloved sister,
the melancholy poetry lie repeated to her, of
ten suggested by the veiled light of the evening
i : i ii . ' . . : ,-, ... . ., i : . ... .- ..-l..... Tw
lamps, huh iu jfumiue uuuiuimuuiw huci
most secret thoughts of the heart were disclosed
witli "unreserved confidence where each listener
Was either borne on by the enthusiasm, or cap
r. . , ii i i ii i. :
mated and cnarmeu oyine oeauuuu e.ie,sMuns
- V. a.J.A.i f.. .... ii... .,1-..V. 1; '-AVW1wl
w iwcu liuvveu huiu iuc jicdtii n;i.
lie leiu tllfiL neural :ulh;l, uiuo.. v,uui.vj"'U
to foino .ntiii i rv nimsen in uie wuu cuimu v
I . . ' 1 . lfl ' .1 "IT . j
r,f MsMtiii ? Vm tin-nee. ssitv of attendiiir to
business, a sufficient motive tor tins deprivation
In the midst of -the coarse and vulgar beings,
who surrounded him, what would become of his
sensitive and refiued nature ? Whilst, address-
inif ftu.co -mil 111MTIV DfllCl- ( 1 II -St U HIS tO lliniSelf.
An- Afnuvti-r fiinti tmiil rrmti' without, t.roub-
V V. A.A ' ............ ..... " ' ....
ling himself as to where it w ould lead him. lie
was at last-roused from his reveries by feeling
the fur. whbh hall irradtiallv changed into a t
1 fine, rain, penetrating his hunting coat and chill
ing him by its humidity. He quickened his
stci)! hut "on looking around he found that he
j. T O
was lost in the windings of the foiest, and he
sought in vain to find the direction necessary for
him to take to reach his temporary home. .Every
trial he made but th more bewildered him.
'-Tavlirht had disappeared. The rain fell faster
f and heavier, and discouragement Whs fast gain-:-
ing upon him, when the tinkling sound of bells,
reached his ears through the foliage. . ' A1 team
. o L . ' . -
- driven by a large coarse looking manr wrapped
in a blouse, now came in sight. Arnold stopp
ed for flic waggoner to overtake him, and asked
the distance to .trsoerg.
" Sersberg ?"' repeated the waggoner. " In
deed, I hope you do not reckon upqn sleeping
there to-night."
. i 1 . T 1 .. . ! 1 4 11 "
I anion, me, out i uo, repueu vruoiu.
" At the castle of Sersberg F' said thl-peasant,
tn 'notnnitlimmit. "Then vmi must orn nn a rail-
All - - - . - - - - -
' way, for it is six good leagues from here, and
considering the weather ana the state ot tue
. 1 . if ij nal in o tr?nn "
V Arnold made an exclamation of surprise and
astonishment. He had left the castle, in the
morning, and walked carelessly along, jdreamed
not of the distance he was putting between it
and himself. The peasant hearing his expiana-
- tions, told him he had followed a wrong direc
tion for several hours; and whilst thinking he
was --oiug towards the c;istle, had leti it in his
rear. . . '
It was too late to repair his error. ;The
nearest village was more than a league off,-and
Arnold knew not the road. He was compelled,
therefore, hot without some inward shudder-
. . -......-...f lwi ton- KtiViiM lnm tn nn.-
lng at luc yiwjttin rdif iv.vivj
eitt the shelter ofiered to him by his new com
panion, whose farm was but a short distance
from them. He consequently governed his;
steps Vv the driver's, and essayed to enter into ,
COnVeiSai'Ull twill linn , uui, .th-'O'. i if ao lj
great talker, and appeared utterly incapable of
t.n.l-n tUa mitl ii .lie ri lrlrioo rC li
COttipreiieil'-UIJl uiiuuuu.j vi iui.o vja
voting man. When, on leaving the forest, he
pointed to the magnificent, horizon, empurpled
bv the last rays of the setting sun, Moser con
tented himself with a grimace.
"Bad weather for to-morrow," he muttered,
pulling his carter's frock tighter over his shoul
ders. "The whole of this beautiful valley mugt b
spread out before us here,' said Arnold, trying
to pierce through the gloom with which the
twilight bad already enveloped it.
"Yesyes," said Moser shaking his head,
...... i , i:ii i. i. ir xii J
"thia tool OI a mil is msia euuuim ior luau auu
here is an invention of but little profit." " f ;
y What invention ? "
"-Why, what else but mountains."
Arnold was amazed.
' TV it nossible that vou would have the world
- r J
one vast plain !"
" Hold ! - what a question," cried the farmer,
laughing at what he1 thought his companion's
stilpiditv. '" You might as well have "asked me
if I would rather have my horses' backs bro
ken." - . ; . - ..
" Certainly," said Arnold, with ironical con
tempt. " forgot horses! it is evident that
God should have thought of hoises, when he
created the world."
" God ? 1 dont know so well about that,"
replied Moser, tranquilly, "but I know the en
gineers were wrong to forget them, when they
were constructing the road. The horse is the
laborer's best friend sir, no insult to the oxen,
who also have their value."
Arnold looked at the peasant without con
cealing his contempt.
" So, in every thing which surrounds you, you
only see what advantage you can derive from
i; ? " and then in a serious tone, as if unwilling
to believe that he could be so devoid of all emo
tion, "da not the forest, the mountains or the
clouds speak nothing to your soul ? Ilave you
never stopped in admiration before the setting
sun or gazed with delight upon the woods
shining in the silvery light of the stars, as they
now do ? "
" Well ! well ! do you take me for an almanac
maker? what could I gain from the starlight
or the setting sun ? I tell you, my good fellow,
the great thing is to provide the wherewithal
for the three daily meals, and to keep the stom
ach warm. Will you take a drink of cherry
water '? It comes from beyond the Rhine."
lie held towards him a small Avicker flask.
xrnold disdainfully refused it. The positive
grossness of the peasant had awakened anew all
Jiis regrets and aversion. Were these vulgar
beings, indeed, men like him ? these grovellers,
so completely occupied with their labor, as to
live in the very bosom of creation's beauties
without ever regarding them and whose souls
were never for one instant raised above the low
est and most common instincts of humanity !
What, to. this miserable portion of mankind,
was the glorious world of poetry, to which he
owed his sweetest enjoyments ? Led by the hal
ter of instinct, did they not seem to be con
demned to grovel without the walls of the Eden
whose gates had been opened to his more priv
ileged nature ? Had they no thoughts in com
mon I Was there not one point of resemblauce
to attest their original brotherhoods I Every
moment increased Arnold's doubts, and the
more he reflected, the more he was convinced,
that the world of poetry belonged to the" upper
classes of the elite, whilst the rest vegetated at
random within the confines of prosaism. The
result of these thoughts was to communicate at
Arnold's manners a careless contempt for his
.conductor, to whom he ceased
to address his
conversation. Moser testified neither sorrow nor
anger, and began to whistle a common .air, in
terrupted from time to time by some brief word
of encouragement to hijded horses. In this
manlier, they arrived at the farm house where
the noise of the wheels soon announced them.
A young boy and a woman of middle age ap
peared at the door.
" Here is father," cried the woman to the oth
er children in the fyouse, who now ran out with
joyful cries and surrounded the peasant.
" Stop a moment you little brats," he called
out, in a loud voice and feeling amongst the
hay he drew from it a covered basket.
"Let Fritz carry it in," said he, but the chil
dren continued to beseige him. He stooped
down and kissed them and suddenly rising,
" Where is John ?" he hastily enquired, in a
tone of anxiety.
" Here, father," said a little, thin, squeaking
voice from the door. " Mother does not want
me to go out in the damp."
" Well stay there," said Moser throwing the
reins upon the backs of his tired horses. " I will
come to you sonny ; go in, all you others, that
he be not tempted to come out."
The three children immediately went to the
door where Johnny stood by Lis mother. He
was a poor little creature, so cruelly deformed,
that at first rigw neither his age or infirmity
could be told. His whole body was twisted by
disease into a tortuous and misshapen mass. His
large head was supported between two shoulders
of unequal height, while his bust was upheld by
little crutches which supplied the place of his
withered legs. At his father s approach he held
out his wasted arms, with such an expression of
jov and love, as lit up the furrowed features of
Moser with pleasure. He raised him in his vig
orous arms, with an exclamation of tender affec
tion.
" Come my little toad embrace father with
both arms very strong. Ah, that is right. How
has he been, wife, since yesterday ?" The mother
shook her head sorrowfully.
" Coughing, incessantly," said she in a low
voice.
"That is nothing, father," replied the child,
in the same sharp accents. Lewis had drawn
me too rapidly in my little wheeled chair ; but
now, I am well very well; I feel as strong as
a man."
The peasant put him gently upon the floor,
raised the little crutches, which had fallen, fixed
them firmly under his arms, and looked upon
him with an air of satisfaction.-'
" Don't you think he grows wife ?" said he, in
a tone that wished for encouragement " Walk
a little, John walk, my man he does walk
qu:cker and stronger; that will do very well,
indeed. Go, wife, we only need a little patience."
His wife answered not, but cast such a look of
deep sorrow upon her child, that made Arnold
tremble ; fortunately Moser did not observe it
" Come," said he, opening the basket he had
drawn (ram the waggon, " fall into ranks and
put out your hands. I am going to uncover."
He drew' forth three small white loaves beauti
fully baked. Three cries wemlieard at once
and six eager hands thrust out to'seixe them,
but suddenly they were withdrawn, as if by com
mand. .' '
u Aod John ?" cried those childish voices..
" To the devil wiih John !'' cried Moser, gai
ly ; " there is nothiug for him now ; John shall
have his share some other time."
The child smiled and sought to relieve his
anxiety by peeping couriously in the basket.
Moser moved a few steps from him, put his hand,;
with much seeming precaution, into the basket,
and drawing it out with a solemn air, displayed
before his eager and astonished gaze a spiced
cake, adorned with red and white almonds.
There was a general exclamation of admiration.
John, himself, could not refrain from a cry of
joy a slight flush crossed his thin, pale features
and he eagerly held out his transparent hands.
"Ah ! that goes to you my little toad take
it old fellow it is all yours," cried Moser, put
ting the tempting viand in the child's hand who
trembled with joy and turning to Arnoldas
the noise of the little crutches were lost in an
adjoining room " that is my eldest illness has
a little deformed him but he is as sharp as
steel and it only depends upon us to make a
gentleman of him." Whilst speaking he had
crossed the room, and ushered his guest into, a
sort of dining room, whose white washed walls
had, for their only decoration, some coarsely col
ored engravings. As he entered, Arnold per
ceived J ohn, seated on the floor, surrounded by
his brothers, amongst whom he was dividing the
cake his father had given him, and all the elo
quence of the little fellow was called into requi
sition to induce them to receive the part assign
ed to them. They declared he was giving them
too much. The young sportsman regarded this
scene for some time with singular interest, and
when the children had left the room, spoke his
admiration to the farmer's wife.
" I declare," said she, between a smile and a
sigh, " there are times when it might be said
that their brother's infirmities have been a great
blessinc: to them. It is with great difficulty they
share with each other, but not one ever refuses j
poor Johnny a single thing, and their acts, to
wards him are a continual exercise of devotion
and self-denial."
" Humph," interrupted Moser, "a fine virtue
indeed who could refuse anything to a poor
little lamb so severely tried It is foolish for
me to say so, but that child, sir, often makes
me long to weep. Often when I am in the field,
my thoughts suddenly fall upon him. I say to
myself John is sick! or John is dead! and
although the work is pressing I find some ex
cuse to go to the house, and am only happy
when I can see him. After all, he is so feeble
and sutlers so much, that if we did not love
him more than the others, he would be too tin- j
fortunate."
"Yes," gently said the wife ; "the poor little
creature is our cross and pleasure at the same
time. I love all my childien, sir, but I cannot
UH you what unutterable tenderness fiills my
heart when I hear the sound of John's little
crutches; it tells ine the dear little fellow has
not yet been withdrawn from us by the good
God who gave him. He fills the house with
life, cheerfulness and pleasure, as the swallows
who build their nests over our windows. If I
had not him to think of, I don't know what I
should do."
Arnold listened to the simple and tender ex
pressions with an interest mingled with amaze
ment. Was it possible that vulgar laborers,
whose whole lives were spent in the rudest ser
vitude could be so susceptible of the finer emo
tions of our nature ? In the meantime he would
continue to observe. Dorothy arose and called
some one to assist her in laying the table ;
and at Moser's invitations, de Munster drew
near a fire of brushwood which had been just
kindled. Leaning himself against the smoky
mantel shelf, his looks fell upon a small black
wooden frame, enclosing a single dead leaf.
Moser perceived it.
"Ah, you are looking at my relics" said he,
smiling ; "it is the leaf of the weeping willow
which hangs over the grave of Pancien ! I got
it' from a banker in Strasburg, who had served
in the old guards and I declare I would not
give the thing for a hundred golden crowns."
" Then you attach some particular ideas to
it?"
" Ideas ! no ; but I also, sir, made some good
strokes in the 14th Hussars a valiant regiment
arranged so well at Mont Marail, that only
eight men of our whole squadron were left ! So
when the ' Little Corporal ' passed before us he
saluted us with his hat ! Thunder ! don't you
think that was enough to make us all rush to
death for him .Ah he was the soldier's fa
ther!" Here the soldier began to beat upon his pipe,
looking at the black wooden frame and the dried
leaf. Evidently, there was for him in this mem
ory of a wonderful destiny, all the romance,
emotions and regrets of the most ardent youth.
He recalled the last battles of the Empire, in
which he had taken a part the reviews passed
before the Emperor when his presence alone
was the signal of victory ; the fleeting success
of the famous French campaign so soon expiated
bv the disasters of Waterloo ; the departure of
the mighty warrior,' and his long agony up
on the rock of St. Helena! All these im
ages traversing in rapid succession the farm
er's imagination, wrinkled his brow and his
eyes flashed; he grasped with energy his pipe
he had often, unconsciously, refilled and blew
fiercely between his teeth the tavorite march
of his regiment Arnold respected this preoc
cupation of the old soldier, and waited for him
to begin the conversation-again. The announce
ment of supper awoke him from his reveries he
carried a chair for his guest, and took a seat op
posite to him. - .' -
" Let us do justice to this soup," cried ho,
abruptly, " I have taken nothing since morning
but a crust of bread and two swallows of cherry
water, and I feel as if I could eat a beef raw."
At the same time, to prove his words, he be
gan to empty with rapidity an immense porrin
ger of soup, placed before him. ' For some time
nothing was heard but the clashing of spoons,
and this was followed by that of knives and
forks, cutting, in quick succession, large slices
from the smoked ham, furnished by the hospi
table wife. The bracing air and long walk had
given, even to Arnold, an appetite which made
him forget all his (Parisian delicacy. Mosers
bacon appeared to him to have an unknown fla
vor and his last year's vintage a nameless op
erative quality which excited him to eat more,
that he might drink with greater relish and
to drink that he might eat the better. The
good cheer had begun to spread its wonted gay
ety around, when the peasant raised his head,
as if by a sudden recollection.
" Where is Ferrant ? I have not seen him
since I came back."
His wife and children looked at each other
without replying.
" Well what is the matter !" said Moser, see
ing their embarrassment " Will you tell, Dor
othy." " Do not be angry, father," said John, " but
we were afraid to tell you. Ferrant went away
this morning and has not returned."
" Thousand devils !" cried Moser, bringing his
fist down upon the table with a thundering
knock. " Why did you not tell me at first ?
What road did he take ?"
" The road to Garennes." .
"Whenf
" After breakfast ; we saw him enter the nar
row foot-path that leads up the hill."
" Something must have happened to him the
unfortunate animal can scarcely see ; and the
whole way is lined with sand pits. Go bring
me my goat skin and lantern' wife, I will find
Ferrant dead or alive."
Dorothy went without making any observa
tion, and soon reappeared with the desired ar
ticles. " You must value that dog very highly," said
Arnold, surprised at Moser's excitement.
" Not for his value," replied Moser, lighting
his pipe, " but he rendered some service to Dor
othv's father. Once as he was returnino- from
the fair, with the price of his cattle, he was at
tacked by some thieves, and had it not been for
that dog, would have been killed ! So two years
afterwards," w hen the good man lay upon his dy
ing bed, he called me to him begged me to be
kind to that dog and lake the same care of Mm
that I would of my own children. These were
his very words. I promised, and it would be a
burning shame not to keep your promise to the
dead. Here, Fritz, give me my iron bound stick.
I would not, see you, for a pint of my best blood,
that any thing should happen to Ferrant He
is a beast that has been, with us more than six
teen years knows all our voices arid who re
calls grandfather. I hope to see you again, sir,
and so good night until to-morrow."
Moser wrapped up warmly and left : they
heard the sound of his stick until it was over
powered by that of the wind and rain, which
now came down very rapidly. After quite a
long pause, the hostess proposed to show Arnold
to his loft; but he begged to await Moser's re
turn if he was not gone too long. He began to
feel interested in a man who, at first, appeared
so gross and vulgar, and in the humble family,
where he thought that life was deprived of all
its value. In the meantime the evening passed
away without bringing Moser. The children re
tired, one after the other, and left John, who at
last was compelled to submit to the encroach
ment of the drowsy god and seek his bed. Dor
othy, full of anxiety, went from the fire to the
Pdoor backwards and forwards looking in vain for
Moser. Arnold endeavored to allay her anxie
ties, but her mind was excited by expectation
she upbraided Moser with thinking neither of
his health or safety of being incapable of see
ing man or beast suffer without risking every
thing to relieve them ; and as her complaints
which now bore a singular resemblance to la
mentation increased, her anxiety kept pace with
them. She had a thousand fatal presentiments.
The night before the dog howled the whole
night ; an owl had perched upon the roof ; it was
Wednesday a day habitually fatal in her fam
ily. Her uneasiness had risen to such a height,
that Arnold was just preparing to go in search
of him, wdien a step was heard in the yard.
" It is Moser," said his wife, who stopped sud
denly. " Holloa ! hey ! wife open the door quick!"
She ran to the door, unbolted it, and Moser
appeared bringing in his arms an old blind dog!
" Here he is," said he gaily. " God preserve
me ! I thought I should never find him. The
miserable beast had rolled to the bottom of the
great quarry.'"
"Oh, Moser! and you went there to find
him ?" said Dorothy, pale with fright
" Should I leave him at the bottom to find
him drowned in the morning ?" said the old sol
dier. . " No, I groped down, step by step, and
brought him up in my arms like a baby only
I had to leave the lantern there I could not
bring both."
" But iny husband you risked jzur life," said
Dorothy, who trembled at this recital. -He
shrugged his shoulders. -
. "Bah 1" said he with careless gayety, "noth
ing venture-r-nothing have. I found Ferrant
that is the great point If grand-father sees us
from on high, he must now be satisfied with
us.
This remark made, in almost careless accents,
moved Arnold to such a -degree, that he grasped
the peasant's hand.
" You have a noble heart ! " said he, with
emotion.
" What ! because I prevented a poor dog from
drowning ? By the powers dogs and men, I
have, thank God, drawn more than one from
danger and embarrassment, since I was born
I say, wife, there ought to be a glass of that cog
nac ; bring me a little, to warm my stomach :
there is nothing which dries one better, when
one is damp."
Dorothy brought the bottle; Moser drank
the health of his guest ; and each one retired to
his bed.
The sun rose next morning bright and clear,
the cloudless heavens were refulgent with its
beams, and the birds chanted " Te Deumns,"
from every branch still glitting with the drops of
the last night's rain. Wben he came down
from the loft, where he had slept soundly, Ar
nold found Ferrant near the door, basking in the
sunbeams, whilst little John, seated by his side,
upon the crutches, was making him a garland
of eglantines. At a little distance, in the first
room, the farmer was sharing his glass with a
mendicant who had come for his weekly allow
ance. Dorothy was filling his bag with the
substantial things he most needed.
" Come ! old Henry, one more drink," said
the peasant, filling the glass of the ragged man ;
"you will need it to strengthen you for the
journey before you."
"I always find it here," replied the beggar,
with a smile ; " there are not many houses in
the parish where more is given and not one
where it is given more heartily."
" Hush ! father Henry," interrupted Moser,
" don't sjx-ak of such things drink ! and leave
it to the good God to judge of - each one's ac
tions, ion served in the army youiselt: we
are old comrades."
The old man contented himself by shaking
his head, and touching his glass to the fanner's,
but the emotions of his mind were imprinted on
his features and one saw that he was touched
more by the cordiality which presided over the
gift, than the gift itself. When he had taken
up his bag and left, Moser's glance followed him
until a turn in the road hid him from his view.
" To be poor and old, and thrown upon the
world for charity !" said he, turning to Arnold.
" You may believe it or not, sir, but when I see
men w.hose heads are shaking with age, thus
going from door to door begging their bread, it
turns my blood ! I wish I had the means of
sheltering every one of them and drinking with
them all as well as with father Henry. One has
finely said, that for such a sight not to crush
you, you must believe that there is on high an
other country, where those who have missed their
allowance here, will receive double rations and
double pay ! and I believe it."
" Preserve that hope and that belief it will
console and strengthen you," said Arnold, "and
long will it be before I forget the hours passed
with you which I hope will not be the last."
" As you like," said the old soldier " if the
bed in the loft does not seem too hard for you,
and you can .digest our smoked bacon, come
without ceremony and we will always be obliged
to you."
He shook the young man's hand, directed him
how to proceed, and never left the threshold
until he was out of sight. Arnold walked some
time with his head bent down ; but oa attaining
the summit of the hill, he turned to take a last
look at the cottage which sheltered so much vir
tue and so much charity.
"May God ever protect those who dwell under
that peaceful roof!" said he, in a low voice "for
there where pride made me see creatures inca
pable of comprehending the tender emotions of
the soul, I have found models for myself I judg
ed only by the exterior-and believed that all
poetry was absent, because, instead of displaying
it, it was concealed in the very depths of the
soul. Like an unskilful observer, I repulsed with
my feet, what I took to be worthless pebbles
not knowing that under these rough coverings
was concealed the priceless diamond."
S. s. c
Columbus, Ga.
BRITISH SOVEREIGNS.
We republish the follow ing, as a smooth set
of rhymes by which any one possessing an
ordinary memory may fix in mind the order of
succession of the various sovereigns of England,
First William ithe Norman :
Then William his son
Henry, Stephen and Henry;
Then Richard and John.
Next Henry, the third ;
Edwards, one, two, and three ;
And again after Richard,
Three Henrys we see.
Two Edwards, third Richard,
If rightly I guess ;
Two Henrys, sixth Edward,
Queen Mary, Queen Bess ;
, Then Jamie, the Scotsman,
Then Charles, whom they slew,
Yet received after Cromwell,
Another Charles too ;
Next James the second
Ascended the throne ;
Then good William and Mary
Together came on,
Till Anne, Georges four,
And fourth William all past,
God sent ns Victoria, '
i. ,- May bhe long be the lost I ' ' -;
MISCELLANEOUS.
A THRILLING STORY.
The following interesting story is copied from
a late work on Cuba, by Mr. Ballou :
During the first year of Tacon's governorship
there was a young Creole girl, named Miralda
Estalez, who kept a little cigar store in. the Calle
de Mercaderas, and whose shop was the resort of
all the young men of the town, who loved a
choicely made and superior cigar. Miralda was
only seventeen, without mother or father living,
and earned an humble though sufficient support
by her industry in the manufactory we have na
med, and by the sales of her little storer She
was a picture of ripened tropical beaty, with a
finely rounded form, a lovely face, of soft olive
tint, and teeth that a Tuscarora might envy her.
At times, there was a dash of languor in her
dreamy eye that would have warmed an anchor
ite ; and then her cheerful jests were so delicate
yet free, that she had unwittingly turned the
heads, not to say hearts, of half the young mer
chants in the Calle de Mercadares. But she dis
pensed her favors without partiality ; none of
the rich and gay exquisites of Havana could
say they had ever received any particular ac
knowledgement from the fair young girl to their
warm and constant attention. For this one she
had a pleasant smile, for another a few words of
pleasing gossip, and for a third a snatch of a
Spauish song : but to none did she give her con
fidence, except to young Pedro Mantanez, a fine
looking boatman, who plied between the Punta
aud Moro Castle, on the ojposite side of the
harbor.
Pedro was a manly and courageous young
fellow, rather above his class in intelligence, ap
pearance and associations, and pulled his oars
with a strong arm and light heart and loved the
beautiful Miralda with an ardor romantic in its
fidelitv aud truth. He was a sort of leader
among the boatmen in the harbor for reason of
his superior cultivaiion and intelligence, and his
quick-witted sagacity was often turned for the
benefit of his comrades. ' Many were the noble
deeds he had done in and about the harbor
since a boy, for he had followed his calling of a
waterman from boyhood, as his father had done
before him. Miralda in turn ardeutlv loved Pe-
dro, and when he came at night and sat in the
back part of her little shop, she had always a
neat and fragrant cigar for his lips. Now and
then, when she could steal away from her shop
on some holiday, Pedro would hoist a, tiny sail
in the prow of his boat, and securing the little
stern awnmg over Miralda's head, would steer
out into the gulf and coast along the romantic
shore.
There was a famous roue, well known at this
time in Havana, named Count Almonte, who
frequently visited Miralda's shop and conceived
quite a passion for the girl, aud, indeed, he had
grown to be one of her most liberal customers.
With a cunning shrewdness and knowledge of
human nature, the Count beseiged the heart of
his intended victim without appearing to do so,
and carried on his plan of operations for many
weeks before the innocent girl even suspected
his possessing a partiality for her, until one day
she was surprised by a present from him of so
rare and costly a nature as to lead her to sus
pect the donor's intentions at once, and ta
promptly decline the offered gift. Undismayed
by this, still the Count continued his profuse pa
tronage in a way to which Miralda could find no
plausible pretext of complaint.
"At last, seizing upon what he considered a fa
vorable moment, Count Almonte declared his
passion to Miralda, besought her to come and
be the mistress of "his broad and rich estates at
Cerito, near the city, and ofiered all .the promi
ses of wealth, favor and fortune ; but in vain.
The pure-minded girl scorned his offer, and bade
him never more to insult her by visiting her
shop. Abashed, but not confounded, the Count
retired, but only to weave a new snare whereby
he could entangle her, for he was not one to be
so easily thwarted.
One afternoon, not long after this, as the twi
light was setting over the town, a file of soldiers
halted just opposite the door of the little cigar
shop, when a young man, wearing a lieutenant's
insignia, entered and asked the attendant if her
name was Miralda Estalez, to which she timidly
responded.
"Then you will please to come with me."
By what authority !" asked the trembling
" The order of the Governor-General ?"
" Then I must obey you," and she prepared
to follow him at once.
Stepping to the door with her, the young of
ficer directed his men to march on, and getting
into a volante, told Matilda they would drive to
the guard house. But, to the surprise of the
girl, she soon after discovered that they were
rapidly passing the city gates, and immediately
j after were dashing off on the road to Cerito.
Then it was that she began to fear some trick
had been played upon her, and these fears were
soon confirmed by the volante turning down the
long alley of palms that led to the estate of
Count Almonte. It was in vain to expostulate
now ; she felt that she was in the power of the
reckless nobleman, and the pretended officer and
soldiers were his own people, who had adopted
the disguise of the Spanish army uniform.
Count Almonte met her at the door, told her
to fear no violence, that her wishes should be
respected in all things, save her personal liberty ;
that he trusted, in time, to persuade her to look
more favorably upon him, and that in all things
he was her slaveV "She replied contemptuousTy
to his words, and charged him with the coward
ly trick by which he had gained control of her
liberty. But she was left by herself though
watched by his orders! at all times to prevent her
escape. j , -
She knew very well that the power and'will
of the Count Almonte were too strong for any
humble friend of hers to attempt to thwart, and
yet she somehow felt. a:onseious strength in
Pedro, and secretly c lerished the idea that he
would discover her place of confinement, and
adopt some means to-deliver her. The stiletto
is the constant companion of the lower glasses,
and Miralda had been used to wear oine even in
her store against contingency : but sue now re--garded
the tiny weapon with peculiai satisfacti
on, and slept with it in her bosom.
Small was the clue by which redro Manta
nez discovered the trick of Count Almonte.
First she was found out, and then that circum
stance, and these, being put together, they led
to other results, until the indefatigable lover was
at last fully satisfied that he had discovered her
place of confinement Disguised as a friar of
the order of San Felipe, he sought Count Al
monte's gates at a favorable moment, met Mi
ralda, cheered her with fresh hopes, and retired
to arrange some certain plan for her delivery.
There was time to think now ; heretofore he had
not permitted himself even an hour'sisleep ; but
she was safe that is, not iz immediate danger
and he could breathe more freely. J He knew
not with whom to advise, he feared to speak
to those above him in sociejty, lest they might
betray his purpose to the " Count, and his own
liberty, by some means-be thus-'jeop&rdized. -He
could only consider with himself, he musF
be his own counsellor in this critical case.
At last, as if in despair, he started to his feet
one day, and exclaimed 1 .
" Why not go to head-quartersj at once ?
whv not see the Gov-General. and iM him ha
truth ? Ah, see him ! How is that to be effect
ed ? And then this Count Almonte is a noble
man. They say that Tacon loves justice'. We
shall see ; I will go to the Gov.-GenJ ; it cannot
do any harm, if it does not do any good. I can
but try." A I
And Pedro did seek Ithe Governor.; True, he"
did not at once get audience of him not the
first, nor the second, nor the third time, but he
persevered, and ws admitted at last. Here
he told his story in a free, manly voice, undis
guisedly and open in all things, so ithat Tacon
was pleased. J
" Arid the girl," said the Governor-Gen., over
whose countenance a dark 6cowl hald gathered
is she thy sister ?" '
" No, Excelencia,she is dearer still-p-she isfiny 0
betrothed." j
vviviuvij iiuuiug uiui wine uvmuij n
a golden cross from his table, and ;handing it
to the boatman, as he regarded him searchingly
said
"Swear that what you have related to me is
true, as you hope for heaven. ,
" I swear," said Pedro, kneeling and kissing
the emblem with simple reverence.
The Governor turned to his tab e, wrote a
few brief lines, and touching a jbell, sum
moned a page from an adjoining room, whom
he ordered to $end the Captain of the Guard to
him. . .
Promp as were all who had any connection
with the Governor's household? the officer ap:
peared at once, and received the wr tten order,
with direction to bring the Count Almonte and
a young girl named Miralda, immediately before
him.
Pedro was sent 'to an ante-room, and the
luisinofiR nf triA Aav rnnmaA an usual in tha ruini.
tion hall of the Governor.
Less than two hours had transpired when the
Count and Miraldo stood before TacoiL Neither
knew the nature of the business whicli had sum
moned them there. . Almonte half sujpccted the
truth, and the poor girl argued of herself that
her fate could not but be improved by the inter
ference, let its nature be what it might. .
" Count Almonte, you doubtless kiiowwhy I
have ordered you to appear here." ,,;'. Jip- -
" Excelencia, I fear that I have teen indis
creet," was the reply.
44 You adopted the uniform of the; guards for
your own private purposes upon the gSrl, did you
not?"
" Excellencia, I cannot deny it"
w Declare upon your honor, Coun b'jhnonte,
whether 6he is unharmed, whom you have thus
Kept a prisoner." ;T,f ,
" Excellencia, she is spure as when she en
tered beneath my roof," was the truthful re-
The Governor turned, and whispered some-
f Viinrr fn hia nfirrA tliii rmf iniiAyl li-ii! .AiiA.iAna
to the Count, while he made some minutes up
on paper. Pedro was now summoned to explain
some matter, and as he entered, the! Gov.-Gen.
turned his back for one moment at if to seek
for some papers upon his table, whi e Miralda
was pressed to the boatman's arms. . It was but
for a moment, and the next Pedro was bowing
humbly before Tacon. A few moments more'
and the Governor's page returned, accompanied
by a monk of the church of Santa Clara, with
the emblems of his office.
"Holy father," said Tacon, "you will bind
the hands of this Count Almonte and Mi-
raiaa usiaieiz togemer in. ine,; ponds o:. wea
lock." . .-t.'
. " Excelencia," exclaimed the Count in amaze
ment .
Not a word Senor, it is yoifr part to
obey!" ' " 'V