-:' . . 1 ' ! -. .- - ' . -'-r ;
MMMS 1 .... , i i .... .. i i - ... i r .... i ii ' " I
! . WILLIAM D. eOOKE, )
i ronPBfFTOK. )
FAMIL Y I NEWSPAPER.
TWO DOLLARS PER ASSCM
SJetotrtn io all tje 3n Crests of Efe Soutf), Cttemto,- ,;mc atton, multe, SCe&s, fye Ma&tts,
VOL. IV NO. 12.
RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1855.
WHOLE NO. 167
v'l-- IE MDE PENDENT
THE TALL GENTLEMAN'S APOLOGY.
i . f
BY KOBEKT BELL.
Upbraid me not, I never sworo
; For thou art only five feet high,
And I am six feet three.
I wonder, dear, how you supposed
That I could look 60 low;
There's many a one can tie a knot
AYho cannot fix a beau.
Beside?, you must confess, my love,
TIic b?irNiin' scarcely fair,
For never could we make a match,
Though 'we might m.ike a pair?
Miniate, I know, makes one of two,
llut here's the horrid bore,
Jly f iend's declare if you are one,
That I at least am four.
. 'Tis true the moralists hare said,
That love has pot no eyes,
But why should all my sighs be heaved,
for one who has no size ?
And en our wedding day, I'm sure,
I'd leave you in the lurch,
For you never saw a steeple, dear,
In the inside of a church.
"Tis usual for a wife to take
II r husband by the arm,
But prey excuse me should I hint
A sor t of fnd alarm,
Thai when I offered you my arm,
Th t apjiness to beg,
Your highest efforts, dear, would be ,
To lake iue by the leg.
I do admit 1 wear a glass,
Because' my sight's not good ;
But were I .always quizzing you,
It miht be deemed rude ;
And though I use a concave lens,
By all the od's, I hope,
My w ife will ne'er look up to me
Through & Ilerschel telescope.
Then fare-thee-well, my gentle one,
I ak no 'parting kiss ,
I must not break my back to gain
So exquisite a bliss ;
Nor will I weep lest I should hurt
So delicate a fluwer
The tear that fail from such a height,
V ould be a thunder shower.
Farewell and pray don't throw yourself
In a basin or a tub,
For that would be a sore disgrace
To ail the six feet club :
But if you ever love "gain, 1 -
Love oft a sma'ler plan --:
For why extend to six feet three,
The life that's but a span ?
SELECTED STORY. .:
BY. MRS. S. P. BOCGIITT.
" The ch'fklren are very late this afternoon,"
cxclainjed Mrs. -Ashby, as she suddenly arose
from her work ."and looked anxiously from the
' Only "ten minutes past the usual time,
Lncv." replied her sister, to whom the remark'
ivnii rid dressed.
.But they are not iu sight, Mary, and I can'
see for along di-tanee in the direction of the
school house,' I hope no -accident has befallen
the n." , . . . ' '
. ''No dagger of that, Lucy. It is a direct
road, and AY i I ic is a brave la !, and well able to
protect both himself and his s'ster."
. "Still tlieie are a thousand things which
might happen to tliem. Willie is very thought
less.' I caunoi help feeling anxious at their de
lay." Mrs. Asbby resumed ber sewing ; but it was
with a troubled countenance, and in a few mo-
htr statiou at the 'window.
"Twenty minutes past the time." she Dress
- ' r 1..-
: etuly exclaiiried. '"This will never answer, t
muH ctq io m et them, Marv."
''You are .not' well enough, Lucy. Think
i, i vou were yesieruay, ana you are.tii(i
feeble. If vou are reallv auxious co'ncernincr the
- - -" - o
r!iil.t.. I ...til t...ooH" QliK.v,,..t. 1 J.-...U i
they will be here directly." .
'.''Von do not know a mother's heart, Jary.
I rntt go at once. They may have been run
r,i-,.. i .. ' . ;
uv some passing veu;cie.
This idea, although an exceedingly improb
, able one, seemed like reality the moment it en-
. IT. ri 1 4 1.1 7- : .. . . .
throwing on ber hat and shaw 1, she walked with
fajid steps towards, the school house. Contrary
to: her expectation, she did not meet the child-
J CD J
TrU nn tl... ,. oiT T-inf ha s1ii Mmp in Rirrlit. rf
t ' fcll 1 HI ,..k(V . ' . . ..... ... w V-
l"e little seminary of learning, a noisy group
isMieii trt.m it, among whom sue soon recogniz
ed ;ber two darlings. ; They ame bounding to-
. ward her with joyful-shouts of welcome.
. And whv were you kept in so late ?'' asked
the relieved mother, as soon rs her voice could
. be heard.
"Mother, I f.rjrot to tell you," replied AVillie,
" that school begins an hour later in the after
noon thanpt did, and so we cannot come home
so early as .we ued to. But it will give us more
IlmnX- . 1- 1 T , II -1-1 ii m.
"no io eat our ainners, ana l snail . lite uiai.
A rapid walk of half a mile in Mrs. Ashby's
present 6tate of health, was quite too much for
her. It was with great diflBculty that she re
traced ber steps, and upon reaching borne she
was quite unable to sit up for the rest of th8
evening. ' v '
Sister Mary looked concerned,and wished
she could have persuaded her to have remained"
at home; aud her husband was evidently disap
pointed that sho was. not able to meet him at
the tea-table, and said, with some vexation of
borruwiiis; trouble. It would come fast enough
Without looking for it." But Ljjcy wou!d not
give it up. ; It was a part of her very nature.
Blessed with a comfortable borne, a kind bus
band, intelligent aud well-disposed chHdren, and
beinjr herself of an affectionate and amiable dis
position, there seemed nothing wanting to ensure
But the constant inclination to borrow trou
ble was a dark cloud upon her clear sky. Per
haps Mrs. Ash by had not read the fable of the
pendulum, or if she had, she must have passed
over the mori with little attention, as we our
selves have too often done in by-gone days. She
had surely never learned that one moment
must not be-burdened with the trials of the next.
TJer spirit wou'd often taint from anticipation
of the duties, the labors,, the trials to temper
and patience, which may be comprised in a sin
gle day. But this is unjustly laying the weight
of many thousand moments upon one. " One
moment comes laden with it's own little burdens,
and is succeeded by anoiher no heavier than
the last ; if one could be borne, so can another
an 1 another.
But as we have said above, Mrs. Asbbv lived
not in the present, but in die future. Trifles
light as air, imperceptible to human vision,
magnified themselves hi the distance, and awak
ened dread and consternation. Iler sister, who
bad resided with her siiice her marriage, was of
a far more hopeful aud j yous temperament,
and her cheei fulness frequently 'diffused sun
shine throughout the litfle family, when but for
her, ail woird have been wrapped in clouds.
Let us forget the restraints of ceremony, and
invite ourselves to pass a social day with Mrs.
Asbby, introducing ourselves even into her
sleeping room at an early hour one bright Sep
tember morning. The biind bad been left par
tially, open the evening previous, and the light
of the morning sun streamed somewhat too
brightly into the pleasant apartment.
Awaking suddenly from her morning dreams,
Mrs. 'Ash by uttered an explanation of dismay,
and shaking her still sleeping husband, endeav
ored to aroii-e him by representations of the
lateness of the hour.
" No !a er than usual. I think, Lucy," was his
quiet reply, as lie proceeded to. ris j iu a very
" No later ! Why, AViiiinm, do you uot see
the sun ? AYe must be half at? hour behind the
time, and you know you h tve important busi
ness to attend to this morning, and must leave
"Very true; but 1 think we are iu time.
Look at the watch."
"The watch has run do an. I will go to the
clock when I have finished dressing. But uo
hurry, William, -for T assure you I am right."
Mis. Ashby's toilet was but half completed
when she became alarmed lest the girl should
have overslept herself, ani that no breakfast
would await them.
"No fear of that," replied her husband. "Ann
is always up bright and early. Breakfast will
be on the table the moment we are ready for it."
; " I hope so ; but it is wonderfully still down
I slairs. And sister Marv, can she be sleeping
still ? She generally comes to assist me with
the children, but they are not awake yet.
"All of which proves that I am right in. sup
posing it to be no Uter than usual," remarked
'' We shall see. You had beer lose no time,"
Was the leply.
Before Mrs. Asbby was quite dressed, one of
the younger children awoke and claimed her at
tention, and she could not run down to look at
the clovk as she bad intended. For the next
half hour she was constantly employed, and con
stantly iu a state of nervous agitation lest they
were too late. At the end of that timeber sis
ter tapped at the door, and obeyed the summons
" The chijdren dressed already !" exclaimed
she. You are smart this morning, Lucy. Only
half-past six yet."
"Only ljalf-past six ! And I 'have hurried my
life -out for nothing. AA'iliiam wanted to have
breakfast at seyejt, precisely, and, I was so afraid
e should be Lite. I declare I am all in a
" Lie down then for a few minutes, and I will
take the babies down stairs."
"O, no, I must see if AiIIie and Clara are
ready. I neglected to attend to their morning
lessons yesterday afternoon, and I fear they will
not be prepared for school."
" I saw the children studying while you -were
engaged ith your company," replied her sis
ter, as she left the room with the little ones,
" It does not do much good for them to study
unless they have some one to direct them,"
thought Mrs. Ahby, as she pnsaed hastJly to
Yv ilhe's room. " I do hope they wiIl not lose
their places in the class."
Willie's bed was vacant, and pleasant voices
were beard in the garden. The mother peeped
iroui iue open window, and was re-assured
she saw him seated by bis sister's side in the lit
tie arbor with his book in his hand.
-They are good children," she said to her
self. Tbe thought:. was a comforting one ; but;
new anAickiea wcjc awaKenea by a glance into
tbe kitchen. Ann was iust sHHnr !, Km
V uiiui ,
"Ham not broiled yet! Why, Ann, did I not
tell you that Mr. Ashby wanted his breakfast
earlier than usual ?" T,
Yes, ma'am. " You bade me have it ready
at seven o'clock. It wants a quarter yet."
You will te late, Ann'
u Not a minute, ma'am, .-Trust me for that."!
nicely broiled bam and the dish of smokinc born-
miny, and the family gathered around the table.
Nothing had gone-wronjr. All was as it should
be. And yet poor Mrs. Asbby was actually un
fitted for the duties of the day by the nervous
anxiety which she bad indulged, lest they should
not be puuetual to the appointed hour. A cloud
was upon the brow which should have worn tbe
serene cheerfulness of a hnppy wife aud mother,
and ere the meal was ended, it had spread itself
more or less over the littla circle, and a ffloom.
for which it would have been difficult to account,
was felt by all. Breakfast over, lessons well re
cited, and children sent to school, Mrs. Asbby
with a mind much relieved, took her accumstom
ed seat in the nursery'; and while busy with
ber needle, superintended the sports of the two
little ones who remained at home.
Iler sister joined her after performing some
domestic duties which devolved upon her.
For a while all was cheerfulness and content
ment ; but anxiety was soon awakened by the
flushed countenance of the youngest child, as
she came to-her mothers side, aud said, appeal
mS'V " l'ut away work, mama, and take little
Manny. Sick, mama, sick." .
"My darling child," exclaimed the alarmed
mother, as she hastily took the litfle one in ber
arms. " AVhat can be the matter with her,
Mary ? See how feverish site looks."
'"Her face is flushed, but; bu skin is cool,"
replied hen sister. "I do not believe she is
much sick. She has beett running and jumping
too long while we were busy talking, and now
she needs rest."
" But I am afraid of scarlet fever, Mary.
There h ive beeti tuo cases in he neighborhood
lately. It is a dreadful disease," aud Mrs. Ash
by shuddered as she spoke, as if she already be"
held her child a victim to it..
"I not think of it, Lucy. There is not the
slightest symptom of that complaint. Your ag
itation distresses the child. Be calm, and she
will soon fall asleep."
Mrs. Asbby made an effort to follow her sis
ter's advice, and the little pet was soon sleeping
quietly in her cradle. I'm: red spot had faded
from her check, hut even this could Hot a. lav
the feats which had been .awakened.
Every few moments the mother would bend
anxiously over her, feel of her pulse, listen to
her breathing, and n Jea'vo'r to detect anv
symptoms of approaching disease.
In vain her sister endeavored to ie-a-stire her.
It was not till the little shim hero r awoke, ap
parently in perfect he dth, that the sunshine of
thespirit was restored,, and then, alas, it 'was
tob quickly obscured bv clouds.
Mr. Ash by was late at dinner. This was in
itself a most alarming and unusual occurrence,
for he was the most punctual of men ; but when
to this was added the fact that he gave no rea
son for his detention, aud appeared thoughtful
and abstt acted dining the whole meal, it wari
no wonder that a thotwmd fears were awakened
in the mind. of his poor wife. Previous to his
arrival, she had pictuie J to herself pressing dif
ficulties in his business, suddened illness, and
other unlucky occurrences, which served to tor
ment her excited imagination.' In answer to ber
anxious inquiries, he had assured her that he
was quite well, that nothing unpleasant had
happened, and so forth and so fo th ; but after
he had again left the house, the remembrance
of his thoughtful' and somewhat peculiar man
ner was sufficient to keep alive ber apprehen
sions, especially when she recalled a whispered
request at parting,. that she would put the child
ren to bed in good season, as he wished to have
a little quiet talk with her in the evening
It was very evident that something unusual
bad taken place, and in order to fortify ber
mind for the worst, Mrs. Ashby gave full scope
to her imagination, and prepared herself to
meet with the most unheard of misfortunates.
They had never been wealthy, but her husband's
business had ensured every comfort, and of late
it had seemed to be increasirg; but now she
doubted not that poverty in its sternest form
. From the contemplation of a vivid picture of
-want and misery, she was aroused by the en
trance of her sister with her hat and shawl on,
evidently prepared for a walk.
" Not ready yet, Lucy ! Did you not tell me
to be prepared to go with you at four o'clock?"
" To go where, Mary ?"
"" AAThy to order your new bat, to be sure.
Did we not talklt all over this morning ? But
what is the matter. Lucy ? You have been
weeping. Are you id f" - -
"Not seriously," was the evasive reply, for
Mrs. Ashby shrunk a little from the clearer light
of ber sister's mind. " But I have changed my
plans about the hat, Mary. The one I wore last
spring, will answer very well for this fall."
" AVby Lucy ! Did you not tell me that Wil
liam disliked it very much, and bad particularly
requested you to purchase another !"
"Circumstances have changed since then, and
I doubt not he will be quite contented to see me
wear the old hat. - There are many who would
be thankful to have one as good."
" Undoubtedly, and jouxold me this 'morning
that you intended bestowing it upon, poor Mrs.
AValton, who I ara sure would bless ou for
" I must be just before I am generous, Mary.
You will know all in time. Let us say no more
about it," and with an effort at calmness which
ended in a flood of tears, Mr, 5 Ashby turned to
leave tbe room. . ' ;- - -r ; .,.-
But the arms of ber sister were, twined around ;
Ker, and hr aflectu'uate sv, ' .VC" "" drew
from ief ilw cu.e Let .-ujnsy. ,
to tbe kind hearted: Mary thai her sister's fears
were imaginary, and her tears uncalled for. It
was enough for her , to know that Lucy was in
trouble, and she endeavored to soothe her as
tenderly as if she bad been a petted child.
Past experience had taught ber that it was
useless to reason with her or endeavor. to con
vince her that there was no cause for apprehen
sion. Opposition only served to render her
more positive, and her sister therefore wisely
sought, as soon as composure was restored, to
direct her thoughts into another channel.
"I think I will call on that poor woman
whose case was brought up before the benevolent
society, this afternoon. AYill you go with me,
Lucy ? Do, it will make you feel better. There
is nothing like forgetting our own griefs in min
istering to those of others." -
" If you really think I ought to go, Mary, I
will make the effort, but I should prefer remain
ing at home."
" You had much better go. AYe will be home
before the older children return from school, and
Ann is at leisure to mind the little ones. Come,
get your hat and shawl."
The fresh air, a pleasant walk, and the cheer
fulness of her sister, had in a degiee dissipated
the melancholy fancies in which Lucy had in
dulged, ere they reached the humble abode to
with their steps were directed, and her mind be
ing less engrossed, with her own sorrows, she
was better prepared to sympathize with the
scene btfore her. Their knock at the door was
answered by a .bright-eyed little girl of six or
seven - years, who invited them to . walk in. for
" mother was busy and could not come to the
Upon entering, they found the mother bend
ing over a cot upon which lay a man hardiy
past toe prime of life. lie appeared to be in
great bodily pain, and his wife was endeavoring
to do what she could forbis relief. .Two child
ren younger than the little girl who bad admit
ted them, were playing around the floors
" Your husband has met with a sad-accident,"
remarked Mrs. Ashby, as she approached the
" He has indeed, ma'am," replied the woman,
looking up and cm trvinsf to her visitors; " but
we have reason to be thankful that his l.fe is
spared. He is in grent p iin this afternoon, but .
the doctor said we must expect this."
"How did he meet with this misfortune ?"
asked Mary, advancing to her sister's side, and
looking compassionately at the face of the poor
" Ho is a bank-Jigger, nra'am, and while busy
at his work three ilays since, the earth caved in,
and a large, mass of stones and rubbish fell upm
him. One leg is broken, and las whole body, is
dreadfully, cut and biuised. But, thank Gjd, the
doctor says he wili do well. 11; is siron" and
healthy and can bear a great deal."
" Did you depend entirely upon bis daily la
bor for support, my good woman ; or have you
something kid by which will help you -now that
be is ill T
"Not a cent, ma'am. John is a sober, indus
trious man, and as kind a husband and father
as ever lived in the world. But we have seen
hard times, aud have had a good deal of sick-
ness, which has hindered our laying by auything
for a cloudy clay. But God will provide. And is
it not a great blessing that there are yet many
weeks before the cold weather ? lie will be on
his feet agaiu before then. And as soon as he
is a little better, so that I can leave him with
the children, I can find a bit of work for myself,
which will keep the food in qur mouths."
" I am glad that you can look on the bright
side,v said Mrs. Ashby, thoughtfully. "But it
may be many weeks before your husband gels
about again, and even then he may be a cripple."
"No fear of that, I trust, ma'am. . I always
try to look up when misfortunes come upon us.
It is tbe only way to get along ; and besides, it
seems like distrusting Providence to be too anx
ious and fretful like. We must do the best we
can to help ourselves, and then be content with
" Your case has been brougllt before the be
nevolent society, and something iwill no doubt
be done for your relief." L j
" A great deal has been dqne already, ma'am.
The doctor has offered his services fr,ee of charge,
and several kind ladies have sent provisions of
different kinds which will last us toitwo weeks,
and. by that time things may look brighter, and
I may get out to work." j $
" We will hope so, at least," said Mary, com-1
ing to her sister's relief, for Mrs. Ashby was al
most overpowered by the determined hopeful
ness of the woman, which formed a strong eon.
trast to ber own anxious temperament.
Plac ing a dollar in her band, and promising
to see ber again soon, the sisters left tbe cottage.
At the door they stopped to speak to the child
ren, who were playing happily with some little
blocks which they had collected from a new -building
near to them. - - r
"You must be good children, now jour father
is so ill," said Mrs. Ashby, patting the' curly
head of the youngest. " Are you not very sorry
be is hurt?" '
- "We are very sorry and very glad," replied
the eldest girl, looking up with a smile. "Moth
er says we must be very glad that he was not
killed, and we ara very sorry that he is sick,
and we will try to be good."
"That is right," was theep!y as the ladies
passed on. . .
A good lesson for me, I suppose you think,
Mary," said Mrs. Ashbv wit'. lialfsmilf vS
'.''4 'Zii,waiA.eit waaaytaii H.Sxtl'Sgj,
"A good lesson for us allLucy, if you mean
the cheerful faith of that poor woman. . Such a
spirit is of more value than earthly riches."
" It is, indeed. AA'ould that I possessed it
But it is impossible. It is a part of my very
nature to be anxious and apprehensive of ap
"And yet it is possible to overcome this
weakness, my dear sister. For the sake of youV
husband and children will you not try ? llovl
many sad hours you pass from the indulgence
of vain fears which are never realized. To-day ,j
for instance, you have been miserable."
"And perhaps with some cause, Mary. You
must not think all my fears imaginary until
AVilliam returns to call them so."
" I am willing to await his coming, provided
you will promise that if that apprehension
proves groundless, you will never again make
yourself unhappy by endeavoring to peep into
the future, which is very wisely a closely book
to us poor morals."
"d will make no rash promises, Mary ; but I
will confess to you that new thoughts and feel
ings have been awakened this afternoon which
will not soon be forgotten. I am well aware that
i.iy happiness and that of my family is often im
paired by this defect in my character, but I feel
no strength to struggle against it."
" AA'e must look to the source of all strength,
dear sister. AA'e are nothing but weakness in
ourselves. But see, there are the children -om-ing
to meet us, -Willie and Clara aud babies
and all. It is later than I thought."
An early supper was soon prepared that the
children might have their usual evening frolic,
and get to rest a little before their customary
Mrs. Ashby had not forgotten her n.ew-Iorn
resolutions, and yet she could not but express
some anxiety respecting her eldest boy, little
" Only think, Mary, he is not asl ep yet," she
exclaimed, as she returned from a fourth visit to
his room. " And he is very restless. Do you
think he is ill ?"
Iler sister replied by pointing smilingly to
" It still wants half an hour of Willie's bed
time. No wonder that he is restless and wakeful. "'
"A'ery true. I neyer thought of that," was
the unusually cheeiful reply; an ! whh a praise
orthy effort Mrs. Ashby actually waited until
five minutes after the half hour had expired be
fore she again went to AVillie's room. To 'her
great relief he w as sleeping quietly.
As she descended the stairs, her htisbtnd's
step was heard in the ball. She sprang forward
to meet him, with ajl her apprehensions of im
pending ill rushing vividly to her mind.
He greeted her iu his usual quiet affeetiona'e
"Children ar. sljep," he exclaimed, as he en
tered the sitting room. " That is well. I will
have my frolic with them in the'inoruing. And
-a here is Mary ?"
" Gone to hef room, I think. I left her here
a short time since."
" Well, give me iny tea, Lusy. and sit clown
by mv- side while I tell vou a bit of good news."
" Good news, AA"illiam ? You are trilling
" Assuredly not. 1 'id you ever.knoAy me
guilty of such a proceeding? Why should I not
have good news to tell you .'"
" But you looked so grave and thoughtful,
and were altogether so unlike yourself, that I
feared some misfortune had befallen u5."
" Aud have been borrowing trouble all the
afternoon .as usual. Forgive m, Lucy, but I
really wish you would not do so."
" I will try to do better, AVilliam. But tell
me tbe good news."
"You remember my little speculation in
those western lands. It has turned out better
than I could have imagined, and will bring me
in ten or fifteen thousand, -clear profit."
" Ten or fifteen thousand ? AA'hy AVilliam."
" It is true ; but this is not the best of it.
The old homestead of your father's, which you
have sorrowed for so long, is offered for sale at
a bargain, and if you still desire it I will pur
chase it for you to-morrow."
" If I desire it ! My dear husband, it would
make me perfectly happy. But can this be
possible? It seems like a dream."
" No, dream at all, Lucy. You may consider
tbe thing as settled, for I have the refusal of the
old place till to-morrow. I went round there at
dinner tirr., which caused me to be a little late."
! "And I fancied there was some great trouble
in your business, and that we were to be reduced
to actual want."
" Never mi id that now. Only promise me
that all these fancies shall be left behind when
we remove to cur new home. Let this be an
era in our lives, and one of the distinguishing
events shall be a firm resolution from my dear
wife that she will have no troubles but what are
real. . Afflictions will come and strength to bear
them will come also; but it is worse than use
less to mar our happiness by imaginary ills."
" It is indeed, William, and I will endeavor
to get the better of this folly. But where is sis
ter Mary ! She must share in our joy." ."
" Here is sister Mary," was tbe reply, as her
sister entered at the next moment. "But did
you speak of sharing your joy, Lucy ! And how
happy you look. AYkat has become of 'the
"It has vanished with the rest of my train ot
misfortunes, Mary ; and in its place has come
such unlooked for happiness. You cannot guess
i m il -.l.
But something, in sister Mary's face toTcf that
she did not need to guess. A whisper from her
brother-in-law, at noon, had told her at least a
part of the secret, but he had charged her to
keep it until evening.
" And why, William," asked Lucy somewhat
reproachfully, "why could you not have saved
me those anxious hours ?"
" You must fcrgive me, dear Lucy. The les
son was for your own good. I saw the state of
mind in which you were mdulrrinjr, and I deter
mined to wait until evening, and let you see
how far away such uncalled for fears would lead
you. Am I forgiven ?"'
" I deserved the lesson, and I cannot reproach
you, AA'illiam. And I suppose I must forgive
sister Mary, also, although one word from her
could have turned my sorrow into joy."
" It shall all be joy now, dear Lucy. The
words were several times upon my lips, but I
felt that I ought not to -interfere with a course
which William saw to be right, but did trv best
to comfort you in other ways."
" And succeeded very well, my sister. The
lessou at the cottage was a good. one, and well
prepared my mind for this, lleneeforth I will
endeavor never to borrow trouble, but ever to
bear in mind that, ' sufficient tthto the day is the
evil thereof.' "
SOME AFTER-SCENES OF THE BATTLE
OF THE ALMA.
AYk leave the reader to picture to himself the
details of this fierce at'd terrible conflict. These
few sketches are from eye-witnesses of what they
saw after its cle.se :
The battle field was dreadful to walk over in
the evening and following day. The battle end
c d too bite for us to remove even our own wound
e 1 that day, and the fearful spectacle of heads
blown eff, shattered limb-, broken arm, the
groans and sij-hs of the wounded, altogether
made a scene I. never wi-h to see agaiu.
The slaughter was ten iae. The oldest gene
rals declare that in no battle heretofore fought
have so many dead bee:: heaped up in one spot.
!t would bo impos.-ibie to describe to you the
frightful sc-ne which I witnessed in the square
mile comprising this earthwork, the slope be
neath it, and the slope above it, upon which
were farmed the enormous squares of the Rus
sian inf.intiy. The greater part of the English
ki led and wounded were here, and there were
at least rive Bu-sians to every Englishman.
You could not walk for their bodies. The.most
frightful mutilations the human body can suf
fer, the groans ot the Wounded all formed a
scene that one cannot forget.
I was dreadfully tired ; for the band had to
carry the wounded men to the rear, and assist
the doctors to amputate, and , bind the wounds.
I saw some dreadful sights that day, poor fel
lows' legs and arm's off shells bursting near
them setting their flesh on fire ; the stench
dreadful ! AA'e were up all night attending to
the poor fellows giving them, water, changing
their positions, lighting their pipes for them :
and the night was awfully daik and cold, and
ljngon the battle field, the smell from the dead
bodies, and the noise of the wounded horses
was dreadful. I hope I shall never pass such a
night again. The nert morning I went over
the plain to look at the dead, and saw the plaea
covered with wounded Russians fine, able-bodied
men. I went up to one poor wounded Rus
sian, and gave him a drink. He was in great
agony, and he made signs for me to cut bis
throat, he was so bad : of course I left him as he
was. AAre were occupied for the next two days
in burying the dead.
Many of the Russians lived with wounds cal
culated, to destroy two or three ordinary men.
I saw one of the 32nd Regiment on the field
just after tbe fight, lie was shot right through
the bead, and the brain protruded iu large mas
ses at the back of tbe head, and from the front
of the skull. I saw the wounded man raise bis
baud, wipe the Jiorrible mass from bis brow,
and proceed to struggle down tbe bill towards
water ! Many of the Russians were shot in three
or four places ; few of them bad enly on wound
Many tf them bad small crosses and chains fas
tened around their necks. Many of thej officers
had portraits of wives or mistresses, of t others
or sisters, inside their coats. Tbe privates wore
the little money they possessed in purses below
their left knees ; and the men, in their eager
search after the money, often caused the wound-"
e l painful apprehensions that they were 'about
to destroy them. Last night all these poor
wretches lay in their agony ; nothing could be
done to help them. The groans, the yells, the
cries of despair and suffering; were a mournful
commentary on tbe exultation of the victors,
and on the joy which reigned along the bivou
ac fires of our men. As many of our wounded as
could be possibly pickedgup ere darkness set in
were conveyed on stretchers to tha Jiospital
tents. Many" of the others were provided with
blankets, and covered as they lay on their blood.
The bandsmen of the rejgiments worked in the :
most cheerful and indefatigablemanner, hour -after
hour, searching out and carrying off our
wounded. Long after night had closed, faint
lights might be seen moving over the frightful
field, marking the spot where friendship direct
ed the step pf some officer in search of a wound
ed comrade, or where the pillager yet stalked
about on his horrid errand. , . -.
The attitudes" of some of the dead were aw
ful. One roan might be 6eea resting on orie
'kagftr antfr annp4dln-thA form of - taking
aim, the brow compressed, the lips clinched,
the very expression of. firing at an enemy
stamped on the face, and fixed there by death.
A ball bad struck this man on the neck; an
other was lying on his back with tbe s&me ex
pression, and bis arms raised in a similar atti
tude, the Minie musket still graspedHn his harids
undischarged. Another lay in a perfect arph,
his head resting on one part of the ground and
his feet on the other, but the back raised
high above it. Many men without legs or
arms were trying to crawl down to the water
side. The fogsnof the : night crept slowly up the
hill-sides, and hung in uncertain folds around
their summits, revealing here and there the ga
thering columns of otlr regiments in dark
patches on the declivities, or showing the deep
black-looking squares of the French battalions,
already in motion towards the south. But what
is that gray mass on the plain, almost without
life or motion ? Now and then an arm may be
seen waved aloft, or a man raises himself for a
moment, looks around and then lies down again.
Alas, that plain is covered with the wounded
Russians still. , Nearly six long hours have they
passed in agony on the ground, and now, with
but little hope of help or succour more, we musf
have them as they lie.
For .the past two days, says a surgeon, under
date of Sep. foth, I have been literally in a sea
of blood, as I have been employed attending on
j the wounded Russians on the battle field of AU '
j ml No description I could give would realiz
! thelhorrprs of war the dead, the dying, horses,
guns, carriages, pelc-mcle headless trunks, bo
j dies minus arms or legs, mutilation of every sort
j and-kind my blood almost freezes at the re-.
I collection. Every available hut was improvish
i ed into an operating theatre, and under every
I disadvantage we performed the most formidable
i surgical operations. You may judge how r-
peditiously we had to get through'things, when
i I mention that I extracted twenty-three balls in
j less than three hours. Dressings were out of
the question. Our surgical bivouacs were rea- .
dilv known by the number of legs and arms
: .-trewn around the scene of our labors. Indeed
1 cannot 'liken the field of battle for two days
after the fight, tQ anything better than an aba
! toir.. My assistant for compressing arteries wns
I the first passer-by, and when his nerves failed
! him, I Itad to wait until some one else came up,
j I will not say much for the result ot my ampu
i tations, as directly one was concluded I laid faiin
on a bed of hay1 or traw, and left him to
the vis naturcB medicairix. In the redoubts
i the Russian dead lay literally heaped on each
; other. No one, I believe, knows the Russian
loss. I counted myself more than 400 Russians
dead in less than three acres, and the wounded
were beyond ray calculation. Their supplica
tions, asl passed through them, were heart
rending wken I had attended onetbeie were
twenty unintelligible supplications from those
around me to give them my surgical aid.
"Nothing," says a writer from the camp near
Scbastapol, " could exceed the attention of the
English soldiers to their wounded foes ; and, on
the other band, it was delightful to witness th&
tearful gratitude of the latter for such, attention.
After forty-eight hours I found the Itussians in
the field, still groaning from their wounds. I As
. our own men were to be attended to first, these
were necessarily left, with legs, arms and breasts
shot away, during cold nights end burning days,
without care or dressing. Many a flask of bran
dy and water did I expend in relieving their
terrible thirst; and bow ray heart, did bleed
when around j the necks of every one of these
soldiers I found tbe cross and virgin and child.
When I relieved them, they expressed their gra
titude, first to God, by kissing tbe cross, and ap
parently 6aying a short prayer ; then, by hold
ing my hand to their'lips, and pressing it to
their hearts, until my feelings could bear it no '
longer, and. I longed for gome private spot where
I could sit down and weep. t . . , ,
Actios of Mind - ox Mind. Whatever
draws a man out of himself, makes him wiser,
and better, and happier; at least, if it does not,
tbe fault is his own, and he has to answer for
abusing one of the most effectual means of im- '
provement which Providence has placed :within
his power. He cannot benefit others-without
being benefitted in return, either by the influ
ence of his own action, bis own feeling3or by
the gratitude with which it is more than repaid
on the 'part 6f bis fellow-creatures. Ascetics
may say what they please; but seclusion is
neither favourable to wisdom nor to jrirtue, and,
least of all to enjoyment. The diamond pol
ished by diamond-dust ; and the fine particles
thrown, off in disclosing the sparks of a hundred
inferior ones may be required to bring Out the
lustre of a gem worth a thousand. The attrition
of minds of all orders is equally necessary for
perfecting e capacity of the least, and develop
ing the capacity of the least, and developing
tbe excellence of tbe greatesL". Montgomery.
- -- '.. - a '-jf ' ' u-i 1 t. . I. '- -
America Machlnehy ,ih.; FiBE-Aasts.Mes-srs.
Buck, of Lebanon, N. H. have just completed '
a large order for their improved machinery, "for
the Royal Armory at AVooIwich, JEjiglandJ"Messrs.
Robbios & . Lawrence, " at Windsor, Vt.nailxe- .
cuted another order for the same pafty andrdestfna
tion, to the extent of $80,000 S Thtfflatter is ex
clusively for the manufacture of Mime rifles, guns,
&x, for which purpose our American machinery! is,
and long has been, unrivalled by any in the world.-.