Harper's Weekly 1863-01-03: Vol 7 Iss 314

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NEW YORK, SATURDAY, JANUARY 3, 1865. ef 00 PER YEA) f New York

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9 HARPER'S WEEKLY.

[Jiveanr 2, 1368.

AT LAST. Tue full chords, the fiying, sparkling notes, the inwoven harmonies, were all one splendid mutiny ; for Esther Trevellian, after three weeks of depres- sion and doubt cf Raymond Leighton, was roused | at last to revolt, and with head erect and spark- ling eyes, rung out musical defiance in the name of Liszt, as bold and plain as words could have set it ferth. And so Raymond Leighton understood it, as the throbbing notes, escaping through the opened windows, came on him tranquilly sitting on the piazza. **Good!” he said to himself. ‘She is ready now te fling her glove in my face. We shall have a scene, and then I think we shall come to terms ;" and throwing away his cigar he sauntered into the parior. Ste was alone, and his steps were lost in the thunder of the chromatic storm; but a Cenci hung over the piano, and in the glass of the picture she caught a blurred hint of his coming ; saw a brown mustache, a dark outline, something masculine, guessed out the rest by the tingle of her blood, and the fast throbbing of her heart; so had time to quell the secret insurrection, and was ready for him, with steady eye and lip, and a cold little hand that lay passive in the grasp into which he took it. “I thought you were yet in town.” “I have only been here an hour or so.” The sharp pang with which she thought how a month back “the hour or so” would have read five minutes, she could not keep from sounding in her voice. “Well, have you nothing to tell. me?” “Nothing but my indecision, and that you shali end. The Kighth goes next week. Shall I go or stay?” **T should hardly think there could be a doubt unless the Leighton blood runs pale.” “Tt has flowed redly enough on more than one field,” returned the young man, haugbtily. “ Like the old Burgundians? “11 coulé fort et bon ?” “Then you wish me to go?” “ ]—I have no wish about it; what is it tome ?”’ “True, it is nothing to you, of course,” answers this maladroit Raymond, who might have seeu that she had not withdrawn ber hand, ‘that she could not meet his look, that her very coldness was in itself a confession and a fear; and might have—but did not—instead pulled his mustaches wrathfully, and dubbed himself of the order of Fools. She, disappointed in not being contradicted, flushed suddenly and drew away her hand. § **There is Darwin Ashe,” she said, pettishly “I want to go and ask about my letters.” And with that she vanisiied, Raymond stood looking after ber. He had thought himself so sure of her, and aft- sr all she had but used him. He had kept a little gloof, with a half-defined idea of making his leving more precious to her when he should at last con- fess it; but he had wholly leved and trusted her, and she-— He burst out into a bitter laugh. “Why, she is only a coquette after all; a little higher in thought, keen enough to see what truth and whiteriess of soul might be, but like the rest at heart. And to think that I believed she loved me !” Meanwhile Darwin Ashe, sitting in the cool out- er hall, bad kept his eyes on his paper, but his senses on the alert. He had heard and interpret- ed rightly Raymond's move, the sudden hush of che music, the low talking. When Esther came and sat down by him, with white cheeks and eyes aflame, he said to himself, ‘One of the two ex- tremes.” When Kaymoud passed them to join a group of girls, with an ostentatious avoidance of their point of the compass, he guessed which ex- treme it was. And so thinking, he listened to whatever nonsense she was pleased to utter with a quiet that was in itself a power. He would give her nothing but a curve of the lips or a half- uttered word for her poorly-forged smiles and coun- terfeit talk, till, urged silently by his will, she put off at last her false self, gave a little shiver, and on a sudden was pale and silent. “You are not well,” said Darwin. ‘“ You have shut yourself up all this week, and the consequences are those dark circles sbout your eyes and that look of languor. You need exercise. Gorand get your burnous, or tell me where to find it. I am going to take you to ride.” A sort of blunt authority that, a week ago, tliree hours back even, would have been resisted. As it was, she turned toward him with something of the old spirit, but the flash and sparkle died out before the soft, steady look. The main de fer held her will already in its clasp, though felt unconsciously as yet, accounted for by that facile mountebank we call our Reason; thus— “It was pleasant to be the object of even such authoritative care” (fatherly, of course, Darwin be- ing five years her senior). ‘ Why should she not go? There was no one else to care. No one had even seen that she suffered.” And so Raymond, cantering along the beach that afternoon, came on therm suddenly, Esther seated on a rock cushioned with Darwin's cloak, he stretched lazily near her, the sea only neigh- boring them, utter solitude all about them. It Was quite natural. It had all happened in a truly unavoidable way. She had not cared to talk, and Darwin was always content to wait for Fate; so they had ridden quite in silence till, out from a quiet, shaded lane, they came suddenly on the se rolling in on the rock-strewn beach a hundred fee below. Darwin had helped her down the break- neck path, and found « seat for her, but troubled her with no talk.ng, and she, half forgetting that she was not alone, sat there, hushed by the rest and quiet of ali about her, till Raymond passed them with a bow and a stern smile. Then she started, flushing scarlet, even called after him in her first hurry and confusion. * It is too late,” said Darwin “ For what?” “ He will not hear you.” “ Will not ?” ‘*T mean, can not; he is gone.” “‘How strangely you look! I don’t compre- hend you.” “ Nor I you.” Startled, half alarmed, Esther turned and look- ed into his eyes, but saw there only depths of blackness ; he permitted not a gleam of his mean- ing to shine out in them. ‘* Tt is time to go back,” she said, half uneasily. “ As you like—only we are losing the sunset.” “You will have an hour or so in which to dress.” “T shall not dress.” “Why to-night Mrs. Marly gives her reception.” “‘T shall not come down.” “You will.” “T tell you no—I have my reasons.” ‘« Not so closely masked that I can’t guess them ; yet, believe me, you will come.” “Why do you think so?” “Tf for no better reason, because I choose it.”’ ‘Now you have given me an additional motive stay away.” ** Still you will come.” ** We shall see.” ‘‘ Promise me the first waltz.” ““T have not waltzed since—since—” She hesi- tated (but Darwin knew well enough how to fill the gap); and the doing so almost stung him out of his self-control. ‘* Well,” he asked, sharply. “Tf come, I will waltz with you.” ** So be it ;” and with that they wept home. That night the drawing-rooms were silently ex- pectant, the upper halls all enchanted, with the in- disecretions of half-opened doors through which came out perfumes and whisperings, glimpses of little slippers, of black hair being massed in heavy coils, of bright hair brushed over cushions, fans and gloves sown among gilded bottles, and a general visitation of cloud-like things, fallen on snowy beds and across bright-flowered chairs; but by all these passed the fairy to the sullen door that shut in Esther in peignoir and toilet-slippers, making believe to herself that she was reading; and with an Undine-like tapping, these vanished as fairies ought when Esther came to open. Up and down the hall she looked in perplexity, saw at last at her feet a basket, only of moss, but in its centre broad green leaves, and the satin-smooth whorl of a cala lily; a fairy dropped it there, but the flower was guilty of no magic, valess it was that Ray- mond loved and preferred it ; yet, when flowers were drooping wearily in loosened braids over the flush- ed cheeks of the dancers, came, or rather dawned, Esther Trevellian. It was plain that she had never dressed herself after the brushing, powdering, and hooking-up style of ordinary mortals; but some sweet thought had compelled cloud and mist into her service, and she had floated down, not from the toilet-table, but some quiet, unknown land, all its calm and mys- tery yet in her eyes, and bringing with her its en- chantment, hidden, perhaps, in the lily rising and falling with every beat of her heart. The first eyes that met hers were those of Ray- mond Leighton, standing a little apart, and scan- ning her coldly, beating back the smile with which she had looked up at him with a look of bitterest anger, merciless scorn. Pale and stunned, she look- ed wildly about as if for help, and saw Darwin Ashe. “ You acknowledge yourself conquered,” he said, softly ; ‘‘ remember the first waltz is mine.” She knew nothing about it, but as probably she had smiled some time in the past, perbaps then she had talked of waltzing ; so she went with him pas- sively. The first warning and solemn sounding ef chords was done; the wave of waltz harmony was full upon them, and like foam on its erest, they floated with it from under the jealous eyes of Ray- mond; and as the passion of the music grew upon them he clasped her closer, and judging rightly that it was his hour, allowed at last the long-repressed fire to break through the outer crust of calmness, and made her—weak, helpless, despairing—feel in his look all the power of his will; and at last she saw how he had loved her, and with what quiet confidence he had waited, and with what relentless purpose he was using circumstances against her, and bow he had sent the lily, not Raymond, and explanation was impossible, and— She was faint- ing, breathless, but his strong arm upheld her as if it had been wings, till they had crossed the hall and were in the dimly lighted reading-room alone, and she had sunk like mist from his grasp to the sofa; dreading him more in his changed aspect than when his eyes were burning in his meaning on her brain; for touch and tone had now the ten- derness of a woman; and he was not asking, but calling her his, and she found im herself neither power nor courage to contradict him. There are tidings that are not told but felt, and Esther's betrothal was of this nature. The knowl- edge of it was common property before half an hour was over ; perhaps because Darwin chose thus to bind Esther a little more securely. Soon enough it reached Raymond's ears, and having heard it with such grief and anger as may be guessed, his evil genius sent him to the reading-room, where Esther had at last persuaded Darwin to leave her for a while aione. She was sitting with her head bowed in her hands, and either did not hear him or mistook his step for Darwin. He laid his hand lightly on the hair that he once had ventured to caress. “Is it so bitter?” She started, looked up, and eagerly held out her hands, but drew back insta.tly, turning red, as she had been deadly pale. “You need not tell me,” he said, seeing her pale lips move. “I know it already.” ‘*But not—you do not know—” ‘All the excuses that you could devise I have found for you. You see it is hard to condemn ut- terly what we have loved so well.” Twice as terrible as reproaches was this bitter anger that disdained all help from outward ~ — o

in demonstrating itself! Worse than all, t ; <a lamenting of love over dead faith and respect !

She shrank away from him, putting out her hands as if in deprecation, ‘* Raymond, you are killing me! You will never believe me now, but I loved you.” ‘Then I must think yet more meanly of you; for in that case your treachery is three-fold. You could at least have been true to yourself. You would have been, if your love had been worthy of the name.” “ But—” ‘Spare yourself. I did not come to reproach. The only blame is mine. If I mistook wax for pearl mine is the fault; and mine alone, I trust, the suffering.” “Hypocritical as well as cruel!” exclaimed Esther, passionately. ‘‘ You can not, looking in my face, think that you suffer alone; and if you call me false, have you been true? Which came from your heart —the looks and words of these last weeks, or those of the first of this wretched summer? Surely if I am found guilty in your thought, you, of all men, have least right to cast the first stone at me!” This was the farewell that he took with him; and, the first anger over, bitter thinking enough he found it. She, too, was haunted; night and day rang in her ears, ‘‘ You could at Jeast have been true to yourself; and you would have been, had your love been worthy of the name!” Daily her self-loathing grew more intolerable, Darwin's gifts and caresses more hatefui; and at last she epoke out: “T can not commit this sin! I will not marry you, Darwin Ashe!” But he, long expecting some such outburst, did not think it worth his while to be discomposed ; only drew her a little closer, saying quietly, **T shall not release you. Do you think, when I have never once faltered in all the past, that I am going to waver now ?” “ But I do not love you. I am growing to hate ou.” “You willlove me. Once mine, you will see the folly of further struggling, and I find such a wealth of tenderness for you in my heart that I have no fear. You might resist force, you can not love.” ‘*T will appeal to my aunt.” “And she will be properly shocked. She is fully alive to the importance of being well rid of her grave and somewhat troublesome responsibil- ity. Expect no help from her, or from any other. I have made sure of you.” A sudden light shone in her eyes. ‘Have you bribed Heaven ?” she asked. Darwin was puzzled, aad from henceforth kep. her under quiet surveillance; breathing in an at- mosphere of his waiting and watching, she seemed to have returned to her former state of passive res- ignation, till suddenly, three days before her mar- riage, she disappeared, leaving scarce so much trace behind her as vanishing mist. On the New England coast is te be found a Sir Charles Coldstream of a village, that is always running after seusations to make sure that it is yet alive, and there befell it during this past year, when October was at its meridian glory, such for- tune in the way of gossip as is not in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. It happened that Mrs. Stapleton, leader of vil- lage ton in virtue of being its doctor’s wife, cele- brated, mysteries technically known as a sociable, princi¥ally in honor of a Captain Leighton, an old friend of ours, on furlough in consequence of a seri- ous wound, and visiting her son Bob, an old col- lege classmate. Now this past year had by no means been a soft- ening one for Captain Leighton; one hard bitter thought had been his company keeper aight and day. He had seen active service, plenty of it; wore a scar across his cheek more honorable than lovely, and altogether was a grimmer and more formidable personage than the Raymond we once knew, specially disliking women and their petting, and not a little wrathful against Fate, whe had pursued him even to this obscure railway + ation with a “ sociable ;” a thing in this-case consisting principally in a setting forth of elderly people, with a faint dotting of the next generation, to all of whom, if truth must be told, he bore himself some- what surlily, till by the centre table he chanced to spy a slender figure in mourning, having a some- thing familiar in the poise and arching of head and neck, and looking a little more earnestly, met a pair of startled eyes, and— Captain Leighton sprang forward, crying, ‘‘ Es- ther!” and the young person, a schoolmistress, a Miss Trevellian, fell fainting to the floor. This was the next day’s gossip, but there the story ended. Miss Treveilian preserved a discreet silence on recovering, and was taken home at once. Captain Leighton vouchsafed no explanation, per- haps he thought none necessary. I believe, how- ever, that he took Bob into his confidence, and it was that gentleman who directed him to the Widow Bridgemain’s house, where Esther lived; at any rate the next morning (fortunately it was Satur- day) he was knocking at the little door at the head of the first narrow flight of stairs, his heart beating as it had never done when marching up to a bat- tery. ; Esther came herself to answer; possibly she was expecting him, for she neither started nor exclaimed, only gave him her hand with a ris- ing flush and a slight trembling of the red lips; but this over, they did but poorly. Conversation dragged as heavily as Pharaoh's chariot-wheels, though it is evident to any sensible and unroman- tic person that they might have talked of the weather, the war, Raymond's wound, the sociable, any thing instead of pretending to sew, as Esther did, with eyes brimmed and blinded with tears, or looking pitifully about at the meagre little room, and the pale face with its look of sorrowful self- reliance like Raymond, till—‘“ Esther, my poor child, what can have been your life?” he cried sud- denly. “Oh, how much sharper must have been my self-reproach, could I have known how my stray lamb was solitary and homeless among stran- gers?”

“T have been very well here.” “Ts it well to be utterly desolate ?” ‘*My desolation is of my own making.” “Why that is the very echo of my brutality at our parting. Can you ever forgive me for that? Think, too, not twelve weeks ago, I still thought you wholly wrong, myself altogether injured. It was on the field, among the dead and dying, where I lay a day and night before they found me, that I first saw myself; guilty of falsehood, and cow- ardice, criminal, when you had been only weak; won back all the old sweetness of the thought of you, swore to myself to win you also, for in the light of my new revelation I felt sure that you had not married Darwin; fairly struggled out of the hands of Death, I do believe, because I was so de- termined to live and unsay what I once so cruelly and basely said. Yet I had almost commenced to despair, my darling! Your aunt had no traces of you, and hinted at suicide. I never dreamed my treasure was hidden here: only came because I half hated the world, which perhaps had you no longer in it.” From all this talk, at once so sweet and so hard to answer, Esther shrank at first, and, for the ques- tion half whispered at the end, found no other an- swer than to hide her crimson face on Captain Leighton’s shoulder; but presently taking heart of grace, timid fingers began to stroke his hair, and a hesitating voice said, softly, “Are you quite sure that you love me, Ray- mond, after all?” “Surer than that I hold you to my heart. I am half afraid it is all a vision.” “Tt has been such a weary time!”’ says Esther, with a little sigh. **T thought you had been very well here.” ‘Oh! that signified as well as I deserved.” “Ah!” ““What is that‘ah!’ Translate, if you please.” ‘*A sigh for our prodigality with our little pat- rimony of happiness. These moments are so sweet that I feel a miserly regret for those we have lost.” “Yes; but then—” “ Well, what?” “T should never have known how very much” “ Well?” **T loved you.” With which reasoning, as Raymond was con- tent, so will we be. HARPER’S WEEKLY. Saturpay, January 3, 1865.

THE CABINET IMBROGLIO. HE battle of Fredericksburg produced its natural fruit in the shape of a Cabinet im- broglio. On 16th December a Senatorial cau- cus, headed, apparently, by Senators Sumner and Grimes, adopted a resolution of want of confidence in Secretary Seward, and requested the President to remove him. On the follow- ing day the resolution was amended so as mere- ly to recommend ‘‘a partial reconstruction” of the Cabinet, without reference by name to Mr. Seward. The fact having been communicated to the Secretary, on Thursday, 18th, he placed his resignation in the Presiden:’s hands. On the following day a Committee appointed at the caucus was received by the President and Cabinet, and a sharp discussion ensued, which terminated in the resignatioa of Secretary Chase. Some. of the members of the Cabinet would ap- pear to have been so careless of dignity as to de- fend themselves with warmth before the Com- mittee, and this extraordinary meeting broke up in some confusion. Saturday and Sunday would seem to have been spent in negotiations between the ex-Secretaries, the President, and the mal- content Senators: and on Monday, 22d, the President notified Messrs. Chase and Seward that the public interest would not suffer him to accept their resignations. ‘They accordingly re- paired to their respective bureaus and resumed their labors. Thus ended an imbroglio which at one time threatened the unity of the North, and caused a decline of 5 per cent. in Govern- ment securities. Looking at the matter as a whole, we confess that we are astonished at the impudence of the Senate. The Constitution confers upon them no more right to demand the resignation of an obnoxious secretary than to appoint a mayor for New York city. When they have confirmed an appointment, their function is complete. For the Senate to attempt to dictate to the executive, is at least as intolerable as it would be for the President to assume legislative power. Such av assumption on the part of the chief magistrate would expose him to impeachment. Are not Senators Sumner and Grimes equally culpable ? Some one suggests that the action of the caucus was an attempt to engraft upon our political sys- tem the method of Parliamentary pressure by which, in Great Britain, obnoxious ministries are overthrown. It is unfortunate for this ar- gument that, whereas in England this pressure is only applied to the case of ministers who lose the confidence of the people, it was in this in- stance sought to be used by a caucus for the overthrow of a Secretary whose popularity is greater than it ever was, and for the mainte- nance of a faction which has been overwhelm- ingly beaten at all the State elections. The verdict of the historian on this transaction will | be—not that it was proposed to introduce a new and useful political method into our system— but that by an ingenious trick it was intended to satisfy the popular outcry for a victim by the

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Janvary 3, 18638.] HARPER'S WEEKLY. sacrifice of the least obnoxious member of the Cabinet. Senator Sumner has not improved his record by his share in the manceuvre; nor will the popularity of Senators Fessenden, Col- lamer, and the other members cf the caucug be increased by the weakness with which they lent their aid to the conspiracy. General Burnside’s noble and generous letter will go far to silence this outery. Though he does not explain why the pontoon bridges were not at Fredericksburg by 21st November, wh General Sumner arrived there—which, after ay is the joint of the whole controversy—he assumes the entire responsibility of the battle, and sets at rest forever the current reports that he was ordered to cross the river by General Halleck or the President. For so much let us be thankful. Had Mr. Lincoln really ordered that movement, or suffered General Halleck to order it, the peo- ple of the North could have had no more confi- dence in their Governmer.: or their cause. It is a matter for profound congratulation that the terrible disaster which so thrilled the heart of the loyal North a week ago did not arise from any foolhardy recklessness of the Washingtin officials, but was an ordinary casualty of war, which does not appear to imply any want of generalship or prudence in Burnside, any lack of courage in our troops, any superiority of the rebels, or any thing but ap adverse turn of For- tune’s wheel. ~ THE BANKS EXPEDITION. By the time this paper reaches our readers we may have intelligence of the arrival of the Banks expedition, which, as is now known by every one, is destined to operate in the Gulf. It is understood that the vessels are to rendez- vons off Ship Island, for operations against Mo- bile, but whether the first landing will be made in the Bay of Mobile or the Bay of Pensacola is still matter of conjecture. The presumption, among parties who are usually weil informed, is that the first landing will be made at Pensa- cola, from whence a good road leads overland to Mobile, the notion being that while Farragut assailed Fort Morgan, Fort Gaines, and the oth- er naval defenses of the harbor, Banks would lead a column of 30,000 men overland to the attack of the city itself. Were such a combined attack planned with skill and executed with vigor Mobile would inevitably fall, unless, in- deed, the rebel army in garrison there be much larger than has been supposed. It need hardly be observed, however, that the capture of Mobile is only one of the objects which General Banks proposes to endeavor to accomplish in the Gulf. It has been stated in the papers that he is to replace General Butler at New Orleans; and in this event he would doubtless detach a strong column of troops to attack Port Hudson and Baton Rouge, while the M‘Clernand expedition and the army of the Southwest were assailing Vicksburg. It is re- ported that he will have altogether under his command an army of 50,000 men—quite enough, in the hands of an able General, to accomplish any thing that may be required on the shore of the Gulf. The rumors that he is to operate in Texas and watch the designs of the French in Mexico we believe to be without foundation. There is not the leaSt reason for supposing that the French entertain any designs upon Texas or Louisiana. They have already on their hands an elephant of the largest dimensions in Mexico, and they are not likely to increase their stock of that breed at present. Nor is it probable that General Banks will waste any of his strength in hunting predatory rebels over the vast area of Texas, as their capture could n~t so:ten, or their unmo- lested career prolong, t!e war “or a single hour. The country to which .e will attend lies north, not south of him. A good deal of dissatisfaction has been ex- pressed at the East at the dispatch of so large an army as General Ban {s’s to the Gulf, when it might have co-operated efficiently with General Burnside in Virginia. Had General Banks gone up the James River, or struck at Weldon, it is said the Battle of Fredericksburg would have ended differently, and we might be on the high- road to Richmond. There is no little force in these objections, and if it were clearly shown that the capture of Richmond would prove more fatal to the rebellion than the permament open- ing of the Mississippi and the liberation of 2,000,000 bales of cotton, they would be unan- swerable. As it is, however, it is by no means clear that the defeat of Lee’s army and even the fall of Richmond would put an end to the war: whereas the complete reopening of the great river of the West, and the restoration of peace and commerce to the Mississippi Valley, would undoubtedly change the entire aspect of the con- test. The Mississippi and its tributaries once mere securely in our possession, cotton would go forth to silence foreign clamor, and restore the currency to a sound basis, copious supplies | of Western food would revive the loyalty of the planters of the Southwest, and the isolation of Texas, Louisiana, and Arkansas from the Con- federaey would confine the slave empire within limits teo contracted for a safe uational exist- euce. Ifa victory in Virginia would lead to re- sults as important as these, then Banks might have been sent to Weldon; otherwise not. HUMORS OF THE DAY. Mr. Nosopy, the party really responsible for the Fredericksburg disaster. Tue Dirrerence.—*‘‘ Can you tell me, Jim, where they get so much corn for the manufacture into whisky? “Why, no,” says Jim, * but I can tell very well where the corn comes from after the whisky is made." ————— Spe de nee Sh epee day Tongues are apt to be unruly, for, as we can't see them, it is impossible to keep a watch on them. When a provincial alderman named «1! died, his wife ordered the undertaker to inform the « «wrt of Aldermen of the event, when he wrote to this ef -: *1 am desired to inform the Court of Aldermen, Mr. /.-ierman Gill died last night by order of Mre. Gill.” There are two classes of disappointed lovers; those who are before marriage, and the more unhappy who are The most tender-hearted man we ever heard of was a shoemaker, who always shut his eyes and whistled when he ran his awl into a sole. The railing of a cross woman, like the railing of a garden, keeps people at a distance, A gentleman was riding with a lady in an open carriage, **all of a summer's day,” and accidentally—men's arms, awkward things, are ever in the way—d an arm around her waist. No objection was made for a while, and the arm gradually relieved the side of the carriage of the press. ¢ upon it. But of a sudden from a late recog «tion of the impropriety of the thing, or the sight of another beau coming, never was known) the lady started v enérgy, and with a He who said that the half is o%en better than the whole, a a ae rae “ Bobby, what is steam?" ‘Boiling water." ‘ That's right, compare it." ‘* Positive, boil; comparative, boiler; superlative, burst.” A little girl was standing by a window, —4 yt - Ft which she had just pulled from her head. are you doing, my daughter?” asked her mother. ‘I"m looking for the number, mamma," said the child; “the Bible says that the hairs of our head are all pum- bered, and I want to see what number is on this one." A woman hae generally so much riggi for the most part, she is the least part about her, that, herself. A young lady from the country being invited to a party, as n the dave of the old volunteers a respected inhabitant kK ded a company, which he duly drilled and ded, though his recruits were but an awkward on oe never would draw up in a straight line, do what he t. meet LY up his ee ae oe t rank—" oh, “1 say, Bill, Jim's for stealing a horse!” “Sarve him right! y didn't he buy one and not pay for it, like any other gentleman ?” An anxious father had been lecturing his dissolute son, and, after a most pathetic appeal to his feelings, discover- ing * Ah, father,” replied the hardened hopeful, “‘ you may as well leave off * boring’ me; you will obtain no water, I can assure you.” “ There's two ways of doing it,” said Pat to himself, as he stood musing and waiting for a job. “If I save two thousand dollars I must lay up a hundred dollars a year for twenty years, or I can put away ten dollars a year for two hundred years! Now which shall Ido?” DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE. CONGRESS. On Wednesday, December 17, in the Senate, bills to for- felt the pay of officers of the army when absent from duty, of the cavalry forces, and to disabled soldiers and the inspec- pending, or which may hereafter arise, wherein any ship, vessel, or other property may be condemned, the court ren- dering jndgment shall, before makin® award, first provide for the payment of any bona fide claim filed by any loyal be este Dlished. It was referred to the Judiciary Commit- tee. The resolution referring the topics of the President's Message to the various committees was taken up. Mr Noell, of Missouri, made a strong speech in support of the war policy of the Administration. At the conclusion of Mr. Noeil’s remarks the resolution was adopted, and the Horme adjourned. On Thursday, 18th, in the Senate, a resolution was adopted directing the Committee on the Conduct of the War to inquire into and report to the Senate the facts relative to the recent battle at Fredericksburg, Virginia, and particularly as to what officer or officers are responsi- ble for the assault which was made upon the enemy's works ; and also for the delay which occurred in preparing to meet the enemy. The bill to improve the organization of the cavalry force was ; also the bill to facilitate the discharge of disabled;soidiers from the army and for the inspection of conval camps and hospitals, The Bankrupt bill was taken up, and Senator Foster made an effective speech in favor of ite passage. The Senate then adjourned.—lIn the House, the Army appropriation bill, containing in the appropriations to the amount of $731, 000 for the maintenance of the army for the year ending June, 1964, was passed by a vote of 107 to 3. An amendment to the bill was offered by Mr. Mallory, of Kentucky, but rejected by the)House, to the effect that none of the appropriations sho’ be used for the benefit of runaway slaves, or tor emancipating or colonizing them. The Neval Committee were instructed to report at an early day whether lettecs of marque ought not to be issued for the purpose of capturing or destroying the pirate ves- Pp sel known as the “ No. 200,” or the Alabarnct, and other vessels of like character, now fitting out im the ports of Great Britain for the purpose of preying upon our mer chaptinen in lawful commerce, and what further legislation, i oor is necessary for that purpose. The Judiciary C ittee reported back the bill extending re- lief to loyal citizens for slaves wrongfully taken or ab stracted, with the recommendation that {it do not pase After considerable debate the bill was laid on the table by a vote of 86 against 45. The remainder of the session war occupied with speeches and political topics. On Friday, 19th, in the Senate, a resolution calling on the Secretary of War for information relative to the Court of Inquiry upon the operations of General Buell in Ken- tucky waa laid over. The memorial of the War Commit tee of New York, asking Congress to authorize the issue of letters of marque for the capture of the rebel cruiser Alabama, was presented. A bill granting pecuniary aid to Missouri for emancipated slaves was referred to the Judicmry © itt The ideration of the resolu- tion providing for a joint special committee on the subject of compensating States for the emancipation of their slaves journed._——In the House, the Senate bill to facilitate the discharge of disabled soldiers and the inspection of conva- lescent camps and hospitals was passed. The crecentials of Mr. Flanders, the new member from Louisiana, were presented, and a motion offered that he be qualified. Mr. Vallandigham, however, objected, and the papers were re- ferred to the © i on Electi v@ bill making ag ep for invalid and other pensions war passed. Mr. Stevens made ap explanation as to the financial scheme recently introduced by him, saying it was his own act, without consultation with the Committee of Ways and Means or wit’: the Secretary of the Treasury. He was pposed to financial echeme of Mr. Chase. Joint res- olutions than Lieutenant Commanding Morris, of the Cumberland, and Lientenant Commanding Worden, of the Monitor, for their gallantry in the engagement with the Merrimac, were reported. These thanks are a neces- sary preliminary to the promotion of these officers. Both Horses adjourned till Monday. On Monday, 22d, in the Senate, the Vice-President laid before that body a communication in response to the reso- lution of inquiry relative to the chartered vessels of the Banks expedition Which had failed to fulfill the duties for which they were —. Resolutions were offered and Naval Committee to inquire into the expediency of atteching the marine corps to the army, and req the of the Navy to give the Sen- ate information in rerard to captains and commanders in the navy, and in reference to the iron-clads Housatonic and Pasecic, The resolution of inquiry relative to the alleged sending of Maryland troope into Delaware at the last elec- discussed, the subject, and was replied to by other Senators, after which the bill was postponed. The Senate then went into resentative from the isiana, were d and referred. A resolution was ‘and referred to the Military Committee inquir- ng of the Secretary of War what muimber of soldier are now has been using his infin. ence in that conntry in favor of the French. The Ways and Means Committee were instructed to canvass the ex- pediency of so amending the Tax law that newspapers with a circulation not twenty-five hundred shall p Tae ab ee A was introduced an‘ re settlement of all others. A resolution was offered propos- ing to give gold medals to the small heroic band who t Fredericksburg to clear that city of rebel sharp-shooters. It was referred to the Milita” other business was GENERAL BURNSIDE'S REPORT. ARTERS OF THE ARwY oF THE PoTOMac, Fatmovurn, December 19, 1863. Major-General H. W. Halleck, General-in-Chief United Army, Washington: Gunegat,—lI have the honor to offer the following rea- sons for moving the Army of the Potomac across the Rap- sooner than was anticipated by the President, of Way, or yourself, and for crossing at a point different from the one indicuted to you at our last meeting at the President's: During my pre’ Lt crossing at the place I had selected I discovered that the enemy thrown « large portion of force down the river and elsewhere, thus weakening j citizen or friendly foreigner, where proof of the claim shall | 4 his strong positions, we would almoes certainly have suc ceeded, in which case the battle would have been, io my opinion, far more decisive than if we had cromed at the places first selected. As it was, we came very pear suc- ceaa, Failing in accomplishing the main chject, we remained in order of battle two days—long enough to aecide thet the enemy would not come out of his strongholds to fight us with his infantry—after which we recrossed to this side of the river unmolested without the low of men or property As the day broke our long lines of troops were econ marching to their different positions as if going on parade. Not the least demoralization or disorganization existed. To the brave officers and soldiers who scoomplished the feat of thus recrossing the river in the face of the enemy I owe every thing. For the fnilure in the attack I am responsible, as the ex- treme gallantry, courage, and endurance shown by them were never exceeded, and would have carried the pointe had it been possibl To the families and friands of the dead I can only offer my heart-felt sympsethies; but for the wounded I can offer my earnest prayere for their comfortable and fival recov- ery. The fact that I decided to move from Warrenton on te this line, rather against the opinion of the President, Seo- retary of War, and yourself, and that you left the whele movement in my hands, without giving me orders, makes me responsible I will visit you very soon and give you more defisite is- formation, and, finally, will send you my detailed report, in which a special acknowledgment will be made of the services of the different grand division corps and my gea- eral and staff departments of the Artoy of the Potomac, to whom I am eo much indebted for their support and hearty co-operation. > I will add here that the movement war made earlier | than you expected; and after the President, Secretary, aud yourself requested me not to be in haste, for the reason that we were supplied much seonez by the different staff departments than was anticipated when I last saw you. Our killed amounts to eleven hundred and fifty-two; our wounded, to about nine thousand, end our prisomers to sbout seven hundred, which last have been paroled and exchanged for about the same number taken by ur. The wounded were all removed to this side of the river, and are being well cared for, and the dead were all buriéd under a flag of truce. The surgeons report a much larger proportion of slight wounds than usual, 163% only being treated in hospitals. I am glad to represent (he army at the present time io good condition Thanking the Government for that entire eupport and confidence which I have always received from therm, I re- qeein, General, very respectfully, your obedient servant, A. E. Bumverpe, Ma jor-Genera!l commending the Army of the Potomac WHY GENERAL BURNSIDE KECROSSED THE RAPPAHAN NOOK Head-quaatens, Azwy oF THs Potowsc, Der. 1-4 me Major-General Halleck, Commander in-Chief The Army of the Potomac was withdrawn to this side of the Rappahannock River because | felt fully convinced that the position in front could not be carried, and it was a military necessity either to attack the enemy or retire. A repulse would have been disastrous tc us under existing circ. matances The army was withdrawn at night witheut the know!- edge of the enemy, and without loss either of property or men, Anurnoewr EK. Bouneipe, Mejor Genera! Commanding. THE VICTORY AT KINSTON. The following was received on 20th at the hea4-quar- ters of the Army of the United States: Heap-qusnrens, Darsntucrr ov Nowra Camourma, ineton, N. ©., December 14, 1688 Major-General Halleck, General-in-Chief, Washington: I have the hovor to inform you that | left Newbern for this place on the 11th instast, but that, owing to the bed roads end consequent delays to my trains, ete., J did sot reach Southwest Creek, five miles from thie town, until the ciernoon of the 18th instant The enemy were post- ed there, but, by a heavy artillery fre io frout and a vig- orous infantry attack on either flank, 1 succeeded iy fore ing ® passage, and without much loss. This morning I advanced on this town, and found{the enemy strongly posted at a defile through a marsh bor- dering on « creek. The position was eo well chosen that very little of our artillery could be brought te play. The main attack, therefore, was made by the infantry, aseist- ed by « few guns pushed forward in the roeds. After « five hours’ hard fight we succeeded in driving the exemy from their position. We followed them rapidly te the river. The bridge over the Neuse at this point wae pre- pared for firing, and was fired in six places; but we were # close behind them that we saved the bridge. The enemy retreated p eeipitately by the Geldsborough and Pikeville roads, Their force was about six theasand men, with twenty pieces of artillery. The result is, we have taken Kineton, captured eleven pieces cf artillery, taken four to five hundred — and found a large amount of quarter-master’s and cowmis- sary stores. Our loss will probably not exceed two ban- ‘red Killed and wounded. Tom with great respect, your obedient servant, & 6 veo, Major-General © y ANOTHER SOUTHWESTERN RAID. Dispatches from Cairo state that a body of rebel cevalry, variously estimated at from two thousand -o eight thoa eand, made a raid on the railroad, three miles from Jack- son, Teunessee, on 20th. After firing lato a treia, they tore up the track for a considerable distance, and burned « long trestle work. The operator at Trenton reports sa attack on that place. There has been considerebie ex- citement at Columbus ip anticipation of a rebel visit to that place. GENERAL BEAUREGARD INVITED TO NEW OR- LEANS. General Beauregard's wife is now lying dangerously sick in New Orleans, and Genera! Butler has seat to Genera! Beauregard a kind invitation to visit her, assuring tim of every paste and courtesy during bis melancholy er- rand of sorrow. — FOREIGN NEWS. ENGLAND, ANOTHER EXPLANATION FROM MR. GLADSTOFE. Ma. Grapetons, Chanecilor of the Eugiish Exchequer, har written avother letter om the subject of the American war, He says he has not “expresed any sympathy” with the South, or “passed any Davie.” He says he is ** « much better Americans than those who have encouraged . ng them to persevere in their hopeless and de- ve enterprise.” ITALY. RESIGNATION OF THE ITALIAN MINISTRY. The Ratazzi Cabinet had been dissolved ia Italy, and Victor Emanuel had failed to organize o Ministry up to the evening of the 6th inst, GREECE. THE ELECTION OF A KING, The people of Greece commenced voting on the question of the election of a new king om the 4th inst. Prince A! fred, of England, had an immense majority of the votes given on the firet day, and bis election was cemsidere cer- be a rather * of the case; for it is ent thet Russia had a! asserted that the principle of the treaty of 1 which that po r of the houses of the Powers shall be king of the —must be u ———_— - —

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THE ATTACK ON THE REBEL WORKS AT FREDERICKSBURG BY THE CENTRE GRAND DIVISION OF THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, ON DECEMBER 13, 1862.—SxeTcuep sr Ma. A. R. Wavp.—(See Pace 6.) [Tanvary 3, 1868, == [9 aevg sag]—"Gov “UY UW Ad KAVIG—ONNESMOINTGaNA AO SLOUAULS AHL NI SHAIGIOS uno PREDERICKSBURG ON THE NIGHT OF lirn DECEMBER, 1962.—Sxercuep sy Ma. A. R. Wavp.—[See Paes 6.) ia i ¥

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Jan CAR [9 sovd wag]—"cav UV UW Ad XMVEG—"ONNGSMONTGAMA JO SIMAYLS AHL XI SUTIATOS uN0 — Y ov, 1863, | "mI, i 4 ‘ " bj HH) | "il “at ill ee. ae tH he HARPER'S WEEKLY. pew aad ij! ith We Wi Ty a 4 jit i) } M a Me Mi} (} il a i " H Ah! tM, ia) " hi Mi a ITT z > LA LIT, diiddéd f Se 4. 2 ATG Ld amet +>

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HARPER'S WEEKLY. (January 3, 1863, —- MAJOR-GENERAL FRANKLIN'S GRAND DIVISION CROSSING TNE RAPPAHANNOCK ON 12ra DECEMBER, 1862.—[From a Sxeren sy Mr. Davis.) IF! An, dearest, if our tears were shed Only for our belovéd—dead ! Although our Life’s left incomplete, Tears would not be so bitter, sweet, As now!—ah, no. Ah, dearest, if the friends who die Alone were those who make us sigh; Although Life’s current is so fleet, Sighs would not be so weary, sweet, As now!—ah, no. If oft more pain it did not give To know that our belovéd live, Than learn thejr hearts have ceased to heat, Grief would no’ be so hopeless, sweet, As now !—ah, no. THE BATTLE OF FREDERICKS- BURG. We publish on page 4 two pictures from sketch- es by Mr. A. R. Wand, representing respectively Frepericksscure on THE Nient or lirn, and the Arrack on THE Reset Works sy true Cen- Tre Granwp Drvistox on Decemper 137TH ; on page 5 an illustration of Ovr Troops in THE SrrReets OF FREDERICKSBURG, also from a sketch by Mr. A. R. Waud; nd on this page a picture from a sketch by Mr’ Davis, representing Tur PassaGr or THE Rrvitr by General Franklin's Grand Division. The following extract from the Herald come- spondence will serve to explain the EVE OF THE BATTLE. All the morning and afternoon the regiments compris- ing the Ninth army corps were in readiness to receive or- ders to cross the river. The men were red for a : f 6 : E ie i g See Sapewen pecting They were m all drawn u in line, and every body was in his place. 4 perform and op airs, w moet striking contrast to the booming of the artillery and the sharp h of the shells as they rushed through the air on their on of death. THE STREETS OF FREDERICKSBURG. Mr. Waud’s picture is well described in the fol- lowing extract from the Herald correspondence : No one could better understand what war ie than by taking a stroll through the streets of the almost destroyed city of Fredericksburg. Turn where you will and your eye meets some _ the ~~ pod J deg hurled from our gune into streets and dw: . Not appears to have escaped. egy ey and chimneys are forated ; and in some instances to See on cutant thet the cide ff 0 house presents the ap- pearance of a hb -box, the holee are so numerous cod regular, while immediately beside it are the amok remains of what once was a stately dwelling. Some the houses on the river-front are completely torn to pieces, and ss one turned from one street to another the juestion would lily rise to his mind—How could ony remain here and live? And yet, strange to eay, peuple remain, and I have yet to learn of any casual- ty to those who did so. Quite a number, after the fashion of the citizens of Sharpsburg, took their families into the cellars of their houses, and there remained in safety. In of refuge and received us with open arms. The majority of them are good Union people, and are not unknown to a number of our officers, who were here some months I had but little unity of speaking to them. In all, I suppose some or twenty faut remained, and I can not see what saved them all from one common de- struction. Instead of looking for a house that has been struck, the difficulty is to find one that has not suffered more or ls, The streets are piled with bricks from the chimneys, and in fact the city looks as if it wanted to be made all over ae The Sally inp have ——— vs. ca having been but partially uw a sterples np eta Sas eek of Oe ee Virginia was burned down, and I am very much surprised that the greater part of the city was not reduced to ashes, as the number of frame houses, one would suppose, would serve to spread the flames. The street running along the river gave strong evidence of the intention of the rebels as to stopping our crossing. It was completeiy lined with rifle-pite, and stone fences were made to answer the same purpose. From behind these the sharp-shooters picked off our men, until com- pelled to retreat themaelves. The houses were nearly all empty of furniture, with the exception of some old chairs, tables, and the like. In one house was a good piano uninjured. Whatever remained in the buildings was soon in the possession of the soldiers, and as there was nothing of value, it was some little time before they were interfered with. Some ludicrous scenes were the consequences, the men arraying themselves in old nats, bonnets, etc., and parading the streets. This interfered with discipline, however, and an order was er. en that any one found with any article that was ta from a house should be at once arrested. General Patrick, the Provost Marshal, is deserving of great praise for his exertions in this respect. The men fér a time took all they could lay their hands on, and tubs, rakes, baskets, and pots of all jons were carried away, to be thrown into the street at the next crosei Tobacco appeared to be very plenty, and all the soldiers had their pockets and haversacks filled with it. It was quite a luxury to them, as they had been paying the robbing sutlers from two to three dollars a pound for wretched stuff. In an inclosure on a corner I perceived the bodies of about a dozen men, who were lying there previous to be- ing en Ron were all our own men, with one ex- Properly in- terred, with their names and regimente placed over their g aves. THE CHARGE, The following graphic account of the attack is from the Times correspondence : The time had now come to attempt an advance rebel position. a a m rapidly; charge up the hills t of the bayonet. Order, easy to give, but, ah! how hard of execution! Look at the position to be stormed. There is a bare of a third of a mile, which the have to cross. In d a double enfilading from “cannon to right of cannen to th of toe” Sebastopol was not half as strong. was formed Couch's t Second), composed of the Divisions of Frosch. fine ~ ne abutti po tee 3 brigades of Kimball, Morris, and Weber, eee by Hancock's Division, consisting Caldwell, Zook, and Meagher. cover of a small knoll in the were deployed to the left to- ~ ay Ee the same time, railroad. : if you can, for my resources are mal to th qualita pen Caan iat en ee They have passed over a greater part of the ‘val and have almost reached the base of the hill, when brigade after brigade of rebels rise up on the crest and fresh volleys of musketry at short range. To those sae Soe Se pork ye G- and blood could not endure it. They fell back shattered and broken amidst shouts and yells from the enemy. Ge seral French's Division went into the fight six thou- sand strong; late at night he told me he could count but fifteen hundred! FRANKLIN CROSSES, The Herald correspondent thus describes how Franklin's Grand Division crossed the river : burg. Devens's brigade had the honor of the advance, and of the ground during Thurs- day night. The Second which the brigade at lant style, followed by the Tenth and ents. Thirty - seventh usetts regim The night quietly, and at daylight the main of the left wing com: contin till the whele A more beautiful sight can not be imagined than our army ited as they were formed into line of battle, with the artillery im front, on either side by the infantry drawn up in columns by divisions, with Generai Bayard's —> the centre. General Rey- nolds's corps oceupied extreme left, with General Smith on his The enem tinued intain « strict silence, our movements. tact with the skirmishers of the enemy, who slowly back, fixing, wounding quite a number of our men. had reached the tended to oecupy darkness came on, and troops upon their arme till morning without any fighting. SANTA CLAUS AMONG OUR SOLDIERS. CHILDREN, you mustn't think that Santa Claus comes to you alone. You see him in the picture on pages 8 and 9 throwing out boxes to the sol- diers, and in the one on page 1 you see what they contain. In the fore-ground you see a little drum- mer-boy, who, on opening his Christmas-box, be- holds a jack-in-a-box spring up, much to his as- tonishment. His companion is so much amused at so interesting a phenomenon that he forgets his own box, and it lies in the snow, unopened, be- side him. He was just going to take a bite out of that apple in his hand, but the sight of his friend's gift has made him forget all about it. He has his other hand on a Harper's Weekly. Santa Claus has brought lots of those for the soldiers, so that they, too, as well as you little folks, may have s peep at the Christmas number. One soldier, on the left, finds a stocking in his box stuffed with all sorts of things. Another, right behind him, has got a meerschaum pipe, just what he has been wishing for ever so long. Santa Claus is entertaining the soldiers by show- ing them Jeff Davis's future. He is tying a cord pretty tightly round his neck, and Jeff seems to be kicking very much at such a fate. He hasn’t got to the soldiers in the back-ground yet, and they are still amusing themselves at their merry games. One of them is trying to climb a greased pole, and, as he slips down sometimes fast- er than he goes up, all the others who are looking at him have a great deal of fun at his expense. Others are chasing a greased boar. One fellow thought he just had him; but he is so slippery that he can’t hold him, and so he tumbles over on his face, and the next one that comes tumbles over him. In another place they are playing a game of foot- ball, and getting a fine appetite for their Christmas dinner, which is cooking on the fire. See how nice- ly the soldiers have decorated the encampment with greens in honor of the day! And they are firing a salute to Santa Claus from the fort, and they have erected a triumphal arch to show him how welcome he is to them. But Santa Claus must hurry of and not stay here too long; for he has to go as far south as New Orleans, and ever so far out West; so he says, “G’lang!” and away he goes through the arch like lightning, for he must give all our soldiers » Merry Christmas.

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Janvary 3, 1863.) HARPER'S WEEKLY.

OUR MAP OF NORTH CAROLINA. Tue accompanying Mar will enable our readers to understand the recent movements of our armies in North Carolina. General Foster has taken the little town of Kinston, North Carolina, on the Neuse River, and was at latest dates en route for Goldsborough, and perhaps Weldon. On the other side, fhe army of the Blackwater, which is com- manded by General Dix, made a strong reconnois- sance toward Zuni, evidently aiming at the same point—Weldon. We presume that time will de- velop this important strategical plan, and that the Generals in charge will be enabled to carry it out successfully.

THE PORTER COURT-MARTIAL. Ow page 12 we illustrate the Covrt-Martiar ox GeNeRAL Fitz-Jeuyx Porter, which is now being held at Washington. The accused is being tried on various charges, the joint of which is dis- obedience of the orders of his commanding-officer, Major-General John Pope. General Pope charges that General Porter, by failing to move to his sup- port at the hour mentioned, enabled the rebels to defeat him, and prevented his destroying them, as he would otherwise have done. General Porter claims that be did all that he could, and is in no- wise answerable for the disasters of Pope’s cam- paign. Additional interest is imparted to the trial by the circumstance that General Porter is identi- fied more or less with the M‘Clellan interest, and General Pope has enjoyed, and may still enjoy, the confidence of General Halleck. The members of the Court are Major-Generals Hunter, King, Hitcheock, and Casey, and Brigadier - Generals Ricketts, Garfield, Prentiss, Buford, Slongh, and Lord. Judge Holt is Judge-Advocate. The ac- cused is assisted by his counsel, Reverdy Johnson. General Pope is present watching the proceedings in citizen's dress.

ONLY. , Ox ty another sword Dripping with human blood ; Only another drop Swelling the crimson flood. Only another tear Wiped from the face of time; Only a brother dear Lost in his manhood’s prime! Smoothly the garments fold Over the silent breast. @nly another soul Gone to its dreamless rest!

AN EXCHANGE OF PRISONERS. t young man ought to enlist—every Letty Dallas flashed the blue light of her eyes, half smiling half scornful, upon Mr. St. Mayne as she spoke. A straight, lithe maiden, with black ripples of shining hair, and blue eyes, full of shad- ow, like late-blossomed violets, it was not in the nature of any male individual to endure her spright- ly badinage unmoved. Yet Marcy St. Mayne only smiled as he stovd quietly watching her. ‘* Are you 80 very anxious to secure volunteers, Miss Letty ?” “ Anxious? of course I am! Come, Mr. St. Mayne, follow your brother's example, and turn soldier !” St. Mayne smiled with provoking coolness. “Oh, if I could only inspire you with a spark of my enthusiasm !” said Letty, with glowing cheeks and flashing eyes. ‘‘ What sacrifice wouldn't / make for the Banner of Stars!” ‘Would you really sacrifice much ?” “ Any thing—every thing !” St. Mayne lifted his \ong dark lashes, and looked her full in the face with an expression she could hardly comprehend ! “Am I beginning to make some impression on that icicle nature of yours?” she laughed. “ What bounty shall I offer? A ribbon? a smile? of a aod “ Letty !” said St. Mayne, calmly and deliberate- ly, “‘I do require bounty—a bounty beyond money and beyond price !” “What a solemn preface!” said Letty, lightly. “Well 2” “I will be your soldier, Letty, and fight as man never fought before, until your own lips bid me lay down the sword, if you will reward me, some day, with your own sweet self. That is the bounty I require !”’ The deep crimson which had dyed her face turned suddenly to ashy whiteness—she leaned against the carved marble cupids of the mantle, that he might not see how she trembled. ‘*No, no! I can not! I can not! Any thing but that!” broke from her quivering lips. “Pardon me!” said St. Mayne, © “T see I have overestimated the amount of the sacrifice you are prepared to make for your country. You are will- ing that we men should baptize with our blood the steps that lead to Freedom's altar, yet you can not give up one idle dream, one girlish fancy, in its be- half. Do I seem harsh?” he added, as her eyes were raised appealingly to his face. ‘“‘ Nay, I did net mean it. ao our negotiations shall be forgotten !” “Stop, Mr. St. Mayne!” she said, folding her little hands so tightly together that the nails turned to rose leaves. “ You are right in speak- ing bitterly of idle fancies. I accept your propo- — as my representative, on to the battle- a!” His face lighted up with sudden brilliance.

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“ And then ?” a ns And then—your devoirs shall not be unreward- He took the cold hand tenderly in his. “I will lay down my life, if need be, in token of my thanks,” he said. Over—it was all over! She had given up all that a woman holds dearest for her country's sake, yet she hushed the sobs that struggled up from her heart, and tried to think she had done right. ‘And then she took a tiny-folded paper from her bosom—only a playful note about some japon- icas that Walter St. Mayne had once written her, and burned it, without daring to read its contents over. “T can not lay down my life for the good cause,” she moaned, ‘‘ but I can yield up my life’s happi- ness. When a soldier falls, shot through the heart, the pain is over; but oh! mine will ache on for- ever. Yet I should not repine—it is for my coun- White and silent, she sat there, while the sun- set flamed through the silken purple folds of the curtains, and touched the dark old paintings with gold. Sweet, faint odors rose from the marble vases of pe and roses in the bay-window— to Letty they seemed like the scent of those pale flowers that grow in cemetery shadows. And the gray, gray twilight came at last. The night before the battle! St. Mayne never forgot the starry silence of the heavens without— the peculiar aromatic odor of the pine cones crack- ling on the stone hearth of the rude Virginia cabin —not even the ragged crevices in the log wall. He remembered them all as long as memory and life endured. There was a light, elastic step on the threshold, a clink of spurs against the floor, and a tall, brown-

faced officer stood beside him, laying a careless hand on St. Mayne’s shoulder.

“Writing letters, Marcy? Don't lay them aside —there are no secrets between brothers." ‘* You are right,” sdid St. Mayne ; ‘‘ there should be none. I am writing to my engaged wife.” Walter St. Mayne held out his hand in smiling ation. “Engaged, old fellow! And never told me? But who is the lady?” “Miss Dallas—our lovely little Letty.” “Dallas! Letty Dallas!” Walter St. Mayne’s head fell on his folded arms, both resting on the rude camp-table, and a low groan broke from his lips. “ Walter, are you ill?” “No, not ill,” stammered the young man, in a stifled voice.“ Only I am tired, and these pine- cone fires have such a suffocating smell. Don't be uneasy. I shall be better soon. Go on writing to—to Letty Dallas.” St. Mayne looked at his brother's drooping head with a keen, agonized gaze. He asked no ques- tions, but quietly folded away his papers, and sat regarding the fire until Walter St. Mayne looked up again. “We are to fight to-morrow, they tell me, Wal- ter,” he said. ‘* Well, I'm glad of it. But, Wal- ter, if—" He paused a moment, then resumed, “if Lrall, you will not the brother who loved you far better than his own life. Promise me that!” And Walter promised, with his forehead resting on Marcy’s shoulder, where it had often, often lain when they were both boys. : But Marcy St. Mayne did not fall. By his side, through all the din an+ tumult of battle, walked his unseen gu’ ; and when he bore his ardian-ange) young brother from the red field, a sahre-wound across his brow, the shout of “ Victory !” sounded like a pean in his ears. The purple curtains were drawn to shut out the storm and darkness—the gilded clock ticked softly

MAP OF NORTH CAROLINA, SHOWING THE FIELDS OF OPERATIONS OF GEN. FOSTER AND THY ARMY OF THE BLACKWATER on the mantle of the room where Letty Dallas sat all alone, her dimpled cheek resting on her hand, while the unshed tears sparkled on her lashes brighter than any diamonds Suddenly the door was opened, and a servant announced “ Lientenant St. Mayne !” She started up, pale and trembling ; then he was come at last to claim her troth How changed he was as he stood before her-—-how the calm, steadfast brightness of his eyes perplexed her! “Letty,” he said, “ by all the rules of love and war I am your captive.” She stood epell-bound in the magnetic light of his glance. “ But,” he added, ‘'I wish to effect a change of prisoners.” “A change of prisoners?” “Even so, dearest; and here is your other cep- tive!” He stepped back, and Letty's wondering ey ~ fell on a tall young soldier, who had lingered in the shadow of the door-way-—-a handsome fellow, whose brown curls hid the fresh scar on his brow— her old lover, who had never dared to tell his love. Ah! he had grown braver now. Well, true love is not exactly selfish but self- absorbed, and it was not until Walter rose to take leave, at the chimes of midnight, that they re membered that Marcy had slipped away long since. The next day Letty received a little note, con- taining only the following words in Marey St. Mays.e’s handwriting : “ By the time you receive this, my dear little sister eiect, I ehall be en route for camp once more, feeling enre that I may safely leave Walter to your nursing, Let me add that I have fought one battle for you, and I hope to fight many more for mny country. M. Sr. M.” And in the sunshine of her great happiness Letty Dallas never knew the everlasting eclipse that had come over Marcy St. Mayne’s life ! be os | S | % | | NH ee rt pe P< P

: -——

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EKL 7 4 WE ISTMAS EVE, > \ — — a Hi i L HH! ae ( aft,

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; 14.) 1862.— [Sx Pace

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TO MY SOLDIER. May God love thee, my beloved; may God love thee |” Maus. Baowrine Wars from my bosom I send you this, Deep in my heart these thoughts were nursed, And my line have lovingly left a kiss On the words that will meet your dear eyes first. God and our Country have claimed you from me, 1 mourn for rour abeence, but will not repine; For, wherever your gailant step may be, I know that your brave, true heart is mine. Softly I whisper your name s# I kneel, Praying, ‘ Got love you! God shield you from harms! Sickness or wounds may His tender hand heal ; Soon may He give you back safe to my arms!" Darling, J love peu! Ry night and by day Sending my heart through the distance to you, For our Country, her Flag, and Mr Souprre I pray— I love you, my darling! May God love you too! Lowe.t, Massacuuserrs, Dec, 05, 1969 —-— sr > (Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1962, by Harper & Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the Dis- trict Court for the Southern District of New York.] No NAME. By WILKIE COLLINS, AUTHOR oF “THE WOMAN mF winrt,” “DEAD sEoRET,” ETO, ETO. ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN M'‘LENAN, tt Printed from the Manuecript and early Proof-sheets purchased by the Proprietors of “*Harper’s Weekly.”* -_-— - CHAPTER IV.—+ Continued.) Tue first objects of furniture in the room which attracted her attention were an old bu- rean of carved oak and a heavy buhl table with a cabinet attached. She tried the burean first; it looked the likeliest receptacle for papers of the two. Three of the keys proved to be of a size te enter the lock, but none of them would turn it. The bureau wis unassailable. She left it, and pansed for a moment to trim the wick of the candle before sh« tried the buhl cabinet next. At the moment when she raised her hand to the candle she heard the stillness of the Ban- queting Hall shudder with the terror of a sound —a sennd faint and momentary, like the distant rushing of the wind. Had the sliding-door in the drawing-room moved ? Which way had it moved? Had an unknown hand pushed it back in its socket farther than she had pushed it—or pulled it to again and closed it? The horror of being shut out all night by some undiscoverabie agency from the life of the house was stronger in her than the horror of looking across the Banqueting Hall. She made desperately for the door of the room. It had fallen to silently after her when she had come in, but it was not closed. She pulled it open—and looked The sight that met her eyes rooted her, panic- stricken, to the spot Olose to the first of the row of windows, count- ing frem the drawing-room, and full in the gleam of it, she saw a solitary figure. It stood motion- less, rising out of the farthest strip of moonlight on the floor. In snother instant it suddenly disappeared. In another she saw it again, in the second strip of moonlight—tost it again— saw’ it in the third strip—lost it once more—and saw it in the fourth, Moment by moment it advanced, now mysteriously Jost in the shadow, now suddenly visible again in the light, until it reached the fifth and nearest strip of moonlight. There it paused, and strayed aside to the middle of the Hall. It stopped at the tripod, and stood shivering audibly in the silence, with its hands raised over the dead ashes, in the action of warm- ing them ata fire. It turned back again, moving down the path of the moonlight—stopped at the fifth window—turned once more—and came on softly through the shadow, straight to the place where Magdalen stood. Her voice was dumb; her will was helpless. Every sense in her but the seeing-sense was paralyzed. The seeing-sense—-held fast in the fetters of its own terror—looked unchangeably straightforward, as it had looked from the first. There she stood in the door-way, fall in the path of the figure advancing on her through the shad ow, nearer and nearer, step by step. It came close. The bonds of horror that held her burst asunder when it was within arm’s- length. She started back. The light of the candle on the table fell full on its face, and showed her—Admiral Bartram. A long gray dressing-gown was wrapped round him. His head was uncovered; his feet were bare. In his left hand he carried his little bask- et of keys. The right hand moved mechanic- ally at intervals; waving to and fro before him in the air. He passed Magdalen slowly; his lips whispering without intermission; his open eyes staring with the glassy stare of death. His eyes etartled her with a sudden knowledge of the truth. Ii. was walking in his sleep. The terror of seeing him as she saw him now was not the terror she had felt when her eves first lighted on him—an apparition in the moon- light, a spectre in the ghostly Hall. This time she could struggle against the shock ; she could feel the depth of her own fear. He passed her, and stopped in the middle of the room. Magdalen ventured near enough to him to be within reach of his voice as he mut- tered to himself. She ventured nearer still, and heard the name of her dead husband fall dis- tinctly from tlfe sleep-walker's lips

‘*Noel!” he said, in the low, monotonous tones of a dreamer talking in his sleep. ‘‘My good felfow, Noel, take it back again? It wor- ries me day and night. I don’t know where it’s safe; I don't know where to put it. Take it back, Noel—take it back!” As these words escaped him he walked to the buhl cabinet. He sat down in the chair placed before it, and searched in the basket among his keys. Magdalen softly followed him and stood behind his chair, waiting, with the candle in her hand. He found the key and unlocked the cab- inet. Without an instant’s hesitation he drew out a drawer, the second of a row. The one thing in the drawer was a folded letter. He re- moved it, and put it down before him on the table. ‘ Take it back, Noel!” he repeated, me- chanically ; “take it back.” Magdalen looked over his shoulder and read these lines, traced in her husband's handwriting, at the top of the letter: Zo be kept in your own possession, and to be opened by yourself only on the day of my decease. Noel Vanstone. She saw these words plainly, with the Admiral’s name and the admiral’s address written under them. The Trust within reach of her hand! The Trust traced to its hiding-place at last! She took one step forward to steal round his chair, and to snatch the letter from the table. At the instant when she moved he took it up once more; locked the cabinet, and, rising, turned and faced her. In the impulse of the moment she stretched out her hand toward the hand in which he held the letter. The yellow candle-light fell full on him. The awful death- in-life ot his face—the mystery of the sleeping body moving in unconscious obedience to the dreaming mind—daunted her. Her hand trem- bled and dropped again at her side. He dropped the key of the cabinet into the basket, and crossed the room to the bureau, with the basket in one hand and the letter in the other. Magdalen put the candle back on the table and watched him. As he had opened the cabinet so he now opened the bureau. Once more Magdalen stretched out her hand; and once more she recoiled berore the mystery and the terror of his sleep. He put the letter in a drawer at the back of the bureau and closed the heavy oaken lid again. ‘ Yes,” he said. “ Safer there, as you say, Noel—safer there.” So he spoke. So, time after time, the words that be- trayed him revealed the dead man living and speaking again in the dream. Had he locked the bureau? Magdalen had not heard the lock turn. As he slowly 1 :oved away, walking back once more toward th mid- dle of the room, she tried the lid. Yes— ocked. That discovery made, she turned and looked to see what he was doing next. He was leaving the room again with his basket of keys in his hand. When her first glance overtook him he was crossing the threshold of the door. Some inscrutable fascination possessed her ; some mysterious attraction drew her after him in spite of herself. She took up the candle and fajlowed him mechanically as if she too were walking in her sleep. One behind the other, in slow and noiseless progress, they crossed the Banqueting Hall. One behind the other they passed through the drawing-room, and along the corridor, and up the stairs. She followed him to his door., He went in and shut it behind him softly. She stopped and looked toward the truckle-bed. It was pushed aside at the foot some little distance away from the bedroom door. Who had moved it? She hela the can- dle close and looked toward the pillow with a sudden curiosity and a sudden doubt. The truckle-bed was empty. The discovery startled her for the moment, and for the moment only. Plain as the infer- ences were to be drawn from it, she never direw them. Her mind, slowly recovering the exer- cise of its faculties, was still under the influence of the earlier and the deeper impressions pro- duced on it. Her mind followed the admiral into his room, as her body had followed him across the Banqueting Hall. Had he laid down again in his bed? Was he still asleep? She listened at the door. Not a sound was audible in the room. She tried the door, and, finding it not locked, softly open- ed it a few inches, and listened again. e rise and fall of his low, regular breathing instantly caught her ear. He was still asleep. Sle went into the room, aad, shading the candle -light with her hand, approached the bedside to look at him. The dream was past ; the old man’s sleep was deep and peaceful ; his lips were still; his quiet hand was laid over the coverlet in motionless repose. He lay with his face turned toward the right-hand side of the bed. A little table stood there within reach of his hand. Four objects were placed on it—his candle, his matches, his customary night-drink of lemonade, and his basket of keys. The idea of possessing herself of his keys that night (if an opportunity offered when the basket was not in his hand) had first crossed her mind when she saw him go into his room. She had lost it again, for the moment, in the surprise of discovering the empty truckie-bed. She now recovered it the instant the table attracted her attention. It was useless to waste time in try- ing to choose the one key wanted from the rest —the one key was not well enough known to her to be readily identified. She took all the keys from the table, in the basket as they lay, and noiselessly closed the door behind her on leaving the room. The truckle-bed, as she passed it, forced it- self again on her attention. After a moment's thought she moved the foot of the bed back to its customary position across the door. Wheth- er he was in the house of out of it, the veteran

might return to his deserted post at any mo- ment. If he saw the bed moved from its usual

place he might suspect something wrong—he might rouse his master—and the loss of the keys might be discovered. As she descended the stairs the fear of a sudden meeting with old Mzzev was so vividly present to her that she carried the little basket close at her side, half hidden in the folds of her dress. Nothing happened on the stairs ; nothing hap- pened in the corridor—the house was as silent and as solitary as ever. She crossed the Ban- queting Hall this time withct hesitation ; the events of the night had hardened her mind against all imaginary terrors. ‘‘ Now I have got it!” she whispered to herself, in av irrepressible outburst of exultation as she entered the first of the east rooms, and put her candle on the top of the old bureau. Even yet there was a trial in store for her patience. Some minutes elapsed, minutes that hours, before she found tae right key and raised the lid of the bureau. At last she drew out the inner drawer! At last she had the letter in her hand! It had been sealed, but the seal was broken. She opened it on the spot to make sure that she had actually possessed herself of the Trust before leaving the room. The end of the letter was the first part of it she turned to. It came to its con- clusion high on the third page, and it was signed by Noel Vanstone. Below the name these lines were added in the admiral’s handwriting : ‘*This letter was received by me, at the same time with the will of my friend, Noel Vanstone. In the event of my death, without leaving any other directions respecting it, I beg my nephew and my executors to understand that I consider the requests made in this document as aisolutely binding on me.—Artucr Everarp Bartram.” She left these lines unread. She just noticed that they were not in Noel Vanstone’s hand- writing; and, passing them over instantly, as immaterial to the object in view, turned the leaveu of the letter, and transferred her atteation to the opening sentences on the first page. She read these words : “Dear ApMIRAL BarTram,—When you open my Will (in which you are named my sole ex- ecutor), you will iind that I have bequeathed the whole residue of my estate—after. payment of one legacy of five thousand pounds—to yourself. It is the purpose of my letter to tell you private- ly what the object is for which I have left you the fortune which is now placed in your hands. “JT beg you to consider this large legacy as intended—” She had proceeded thus far, with breathless curiosity oat interest, when her attention sud- denly failei her. Something—she was too deep- ly absorbed to know what—had got between her and the letter. Was it a noise? She looked over her shoulder at the door behind her, and listened. Nothing was to be heard: nothing was to be seen. She returned to the letter. The writing was cramped and close. In her impatient curiosity to read more she failed to find the lost place again. Her eyes, mechanic- ally, attracted by a blot, lighted on a sentence lower in the page than the sentence at which she had left off. The first three words she saw riveted her attention anew--they were the first words she had met with in the letter which di- rectly referred to George Bartram. In the sud- den excitement of that discovery she read the rest of the sentence eagerly before she made any second attempt to retifrn to the lost place : ** Tf your nephew fails to comply with these conditions—that is to say, if being either a bache- lor or a widower at the time of my decease, he fails to marry in all respects as have here in- structed him to marry, within Six calendar months from that time—it is my desire that he shall not receive—’’ She had read to that point, to that last word, and no farther—when a Hand passed suddenly from behind her, between the letter and her eye, and gripped her fast by the wrist in an instant. She turned with a shriek of terror, and found herself face to face with old Mazey. The old sailor's eyes were bloodshot ; his hand was heavy ; his list slippers were twisted crooked- ly on his feet; and his body swayed to and fro on his widely-parted legs. If he had tested his condition that night by the unfailing criterion of the model ship, he must have inevitably pro- nounced sentence on himself in t’e usual form : “Drunk again; Mazey; drunk again.” **You young Jezabel!” said the veteran, with a leer on one side of his face, and a frown on the other. ‘The next time you take to night-walk- ing in the neighborhood of Freeze-your-Bones use those sharp eyes of yours first, and make sure there's < A else night-walking in the garden outside. Drop it, Jezabel! drop it!” Keeping fast hold of Magdalen’s arm with ore hand hetook the letter from her with the other, put it back into the open drawer, and locked the bureau. She never struggled with him, she never spoke. Her energy was gone; her pow- ers of resistance were crushed. The terrors of that horrible night, following one close on the other in reiterated shocks, had struck her down at last. She yielded as submissively, she trem- bled as helplessly, as the weakest woman living. Old Mazey dropped her arm and pointed with drunken solemnity to a chair in an inner corner of the room. She sat down, still without utter- ing a word. The veteran (breathing very hard over it) steadied himself on both elbows against the slanting top of the bureau, and from that commanding position addressr 1 Magdalen once more “Come and be locked up!” said old q wagging his venerable head with judicial sever- ity. ‘* There'll be a court of inquiry to-morrow morning; and I'm witness—worse luck !—I’m witness. You young jade, you've committed

_ [Janvary 3, 1862.

the admiral’s keys stolen ; his honor the admiral’s desk ransacked; and his honor the admiral’s private letters broke open. Burglary! Bur- glary! Come and be locked up!” He slowly recovered an upright position with the assistance of his hands, backed Or the solid resisting power of the burean, and lapsed into lachrymose solilo- quy- ‘* Who'd have thought it?” said old Ma- zey, paternally watering at the eyes. ‘‘Take the outside of her, and she’s as straight as a pop- lar; take the inside of her, and she’s as crooked as Sin. Such a fine-grown girl, too. What a pity! what a pity!” **Don’t hurt me!” said Magdalen, faintly, as old Mazey staggered up to the chair and took her by the wrist again. “I'm frightened, Mr. Mazey—I'm dreadfully frightened.” ‘*Hurt you?” repeated the veteran. ‘‘I’ma deal too fond of you—and more shame for me at my age!—to hurt you. If I let go of your wrist will you walk straight before 1ne where I can see you all the way? Will you be a gocd girl, and walk straight up to your own door?” Magdalen gave the promise required of her-— gave it with an eager longing to reach the refuge of her room. She rose and tried to take the candle from the bureau, but old Mazey’s cun- ning hand was too quick for her. ‘Let the candle be,” said the veteran, winking in mo- mentary forgetfulness of his responsible position. ‘You're a trifle quicker on your legs than I am, my dear, and you might leave me in the lurch if I don’t carry the light.” They returned to the inhabited side of the house. Staggering after Magdalen, with the basket of keys in one hand and the candle in the other, old Moazey sorrowfully compared her figure with the straightness of the poplar, and her di®position with the crookedness ef Sin, all the way across “ Freeze-your-Bones,” and all the way up stairs to her own door. Arrived at that destination, he peremptorily refused to give her the candle until he had first seen her safely inside the room. The conditions being com- plied with he resigned the light with one hand and made a dash with the other at the key— drew it from the inside of the lock, and instant- ly closed the door. Magdalen heard him out- side chuckling over his own dexterity, and fitting the key into the lock again with infinite diffi- culty. At last he secured the door with a deep grunt of relief. ‘‘ There she is, safe!” Magda- len heard him say, in regretful soliloquy. ‘As fine a girl as ever I set my eyes on. What a pity! what a pity!” The last sounds of his voice died out in the distance, and she was left alone in her room. Holding fast by the baluster old Mazey made his way down to the corridor on the second floor, in which a night-light was always burning. He advanced to the truckle-bed, fy steadying him- self against the opposite wall, looked at it atten- tively. Prclengil eullamaiation of his own resting-place for the night apparently failed to satisfy him. He shook his head ominously, and taking from the side-pocket of his great- coat a pair of old patched slippers, surveyed them with an aspect of illimitable doubt. ‘I'm all abroad to-night,” he mumbled to himself. “Troubled in my mind—that’s what it is— troubled in my mind.” The old patched slippers and the veteran's ex- isting perplexities happened to be intimately as- sociated, one with the other, in the relation of cause and effect. The slippers belonged to the admiral, who had taken one of his unreasonable fancies to this particular pair, and who still per- sisted in wearing them long after they were un- fit for his service. Early that afternoon old Mazey had taken the slippers to the villagé cob- bler to get them —— on the-spot before his master called for them the next morning. He sat superintending the progress and completion of the work until evening came, when he and the cobbler betook themselves to the village inn to drink each other’s healths at parting. They had prolonged this social ceremony till far into the night; and they had parted, as a consequence, in a finished and perfect state of intoxication on either side. If the drinking-bout had led to no other result than those night wanderings in the grounds of St. Crux, which had shown old Mazey the light in the east windows, his memory would unques- tionably have presented it to him the next morn- ing in the light of one of the praiseworthy achieve- ments of his life. Bunt another consequéave had sprung from it which the old sailor now saw dim- ly through the interposing bewilderment left in his brain by the drink. He had committed a breach of discipline, and a breach of trust. In plainer words, he had deserted his post. The one safeguard against Admiral Bartram’s constitutional tendency to somnambulism was the watch and ward which his faithful old serv- ant kept outside the door. No entreaties had ever prevailed on him to submit to the usual pre- caution taken in such cases. He peremptorily declined to be locked into his room; he even ig- nored his own iiability, whenever a dream dis- turbed him, to walk in his sleep. Over and over again old Mazey had been roused by his master’s attempts to past the truckle-bed, or to step over it, in his sleep; and over and over again, when he had reported the fact the next morning, the admiral had declined to believe him. As the old sailor now stood, staring in vacant in- <a ong ~ an pre fe rose on ’ Pe him the diem aiention whether the admiral had left his room during the earlier hours of the night? If by any mischance the walking fit had him, the slippers in old Mazey’s hand pointed straight to the startling conclusion that followed—his master must have passed bare- foot in the cold night, over the stone stairs and of St. Crux. ‘‘Lord send he’s been

burglary—that’s what you've done. His honor quiet,” muttered old Mazey, daunted, bold as he

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was and drunk as he was, by the bare contem- plation of that p . “If his honor’s been walking to-night it will be the death of him!” He roused himself for the moment by main force—strong in his dog-like fidelity to the ad- miral, though strong in nothing else—and fought off the stupor of the drink. He looked at the bed with steadier eyes and aclearermind. Mag- dalen’s precaution in returning it to its custom- ary position presented it to him necessarily in the aspect of a bed which had never been moved from its place. He next examined the counter- pane carefully. Not the faintest vestige appear- ed of the indentation which must have been left by footsteps passing over it. There was the plain evidence before him—the evidence recog- nizable at last by. his own bewildered eyes—that the admiral had never moved from his room. “T'll take the Pledge to-morrow!” mumbled old Mazey, in an outburst of grateful relief. The next moment the fumes of the liquor flowed back insidiously over his brain, and the veter- an, returning to his customary remedy, paced the —- in zigzag as usual, and kept watch on the deck of an imaginary ship. Seon after sunrise Magdalen suddenly heard the grating of the key from the outside in the lock of the door. The door and old Mazey reappeared on the threshold. The first fever of his intoxication hud cooled, with time, into a mild penitential glow. He breathed hard- er than ever, in a succession of low growls, and wagged his venerable head at his own delin- quencies without intermission. ** How are you now, you young land-shark in petticoats?” inquired the veteran. ‘‘ Has your conscience been quiet enough to let you go to “T have not slept,” sa‘d Magdalen, drawing back from him in doubt of what he might do . IT have no remembrance of what hap- pened ater locked the door; I think I must we fainted. Don't frighten me agair Mr. Mazey! I feel miserably weak and @l. What do you want?” “TI want to say something serious,” replied old Mazey, with impenetrable solemnity. “It's been on my mind to come here and make a clean breast of it for the last hour or more. Mark my words, young woman. I'm going to disgrace myself. . Magdalen drew further and farther back, and locked at him in rising alarm. “T know my duty to his honor the admiral,” proceeded old Mazey, waving his hand drearily in the direction of his master’s door. “ But try as hard as I may, I can’t find it in my heart, young jade, to be witness against you. I liked the make of you (specially about the waist) when you first came into the house, and I can't help liking the make of you still, though you have committed burglary, and though you are as crooked as Sin. I've cast the eyes of indulgence on fine-grown girls all my life, and it’s too late im the day to cast the eyes of severity on ’em now. I'm seventy-seven or seventy-cight, I don’t rightly know which. I'm a battered old hulk, with my seams opening, and my pumps choked, ar-d the waters of Death powering in on me as fast as they can. I'm as miserable a sinner as you'll meet with any where in these Thomas Nagle, the cobbler, only aeaniecadl he’s worse than I am, for he’s the youngest of the two, and he ought to know better. But the long and the short of it is, I shall go down to my grave with an eye of indulgence for a fine- girl. More shame for me, you young ‘ezabel—more shame for me!” The veteran’s unmanageable eyes to leer again in spite of him, as he concluded his harangue in these terms: the last reserves of austerity left in his face intrenched themselves dismally round the eorners of his mouth. Mag- dalen ed him again, and tried to s , He solemnly motioned her back again with an- other dreary wave of his hand. “No ing!” said old Mazey; ‘‘I'm bad cntudh-aiaaly without that. It’s my duty to make my report to his honor the admiral, and I will make it. But if you like to give the house the slip before the a reported and the court ef inquiry begins—I'll disgrace myself by letting you go. It's market morning at Ossory, and Dawkes will be driving the light cart over im a quarter of an hour's time. Dawkes will take you if I him. I know my duty—my duty is te turn key on you, and see Dawkes damned first. But 1 can’t find it in my heart to be hard on a fine girl like you. It's bred in the bone, and it wunt come out of the flesh. More shame for me, I tell you again—more shame for me!” The proposal thus strangely and suddenly pre- sented to her took Magdalen completely by sur- prise. She had been far too seriously shaken by the events of the night to be capable of decidi on any subject at a moment's notice. ‘‘ You are very good to me, Mr. Mazey,” she said. ‘‘ May I have a minute by myself to think?” “Yes, you may,” replied the facing about forthwith and leaving the se ee all alike,” proceeded old Mazey, with his head still running on the sex. ‘‘ Whatever you offer ’em they always want something more. Tall and short, native and foreign, sweet-hearts and wives *re all alike!” Left by herself, Magdalen reached her decis- ion with far less difficulty than she had antici- If she remained in the house only two courses before her—to charge Mazey with speaking under the infiuence of drunken delusion, or to submit to circumstances. Though she owed to the old sailor her defeat in the very hour of success, his consideration for her at that moment forbade the idea of defending herself at his expense—even supposiug, what was in the aa that the defense would be i n the second of the two cases XN

(the case of submission to circumstances), but | one result could be expected— instant dismissal ; and, perhaps, discovery as well. What object was to be gained by braving that degradation — by leaving the house publicly disgraced in the eyes of the servants who had hated and dis- trustee her from the first? The accident which had literally snatched the Trust from her posses- sion when she had it in her hand was irrepara- ble. The one apparent compensation unier the disaster—in other words, the discovery that the Trust actually existed, and that George Bar- tram’s marriage within a given time was one of the objects contained in it—was a compensation which could only be estimated at its true value by placing it under the light of Mr. Loscombe’s experience. Every motive of which she was conscious was a motive which urged her to leave the house secretly, while the chance was at her —_ She looked out into the passage and ¢ softly to old Mazey to come back. **T accept offer thankfully, Mr. Mazey,” she said. *“ You don't know what hard measure ou dealt out to me when you took that letter my hand. But you did your duty; and I can be grateful to you for sparing me this morn- ing, hard as you were on me last night. I am not such a bad girl as you think me—I am not, indeed.” Old Mazey dismissed the subject with another dreary wave of his hand. ** Let it be,” said the veteran; “let ithe! It makes no difference, my girl, to such an old ras- calasIam. If you were fifty times worse than you are I should let you go all the same. Put ay ar bonnet and shawl and come along. I'm a disgrace to myself and a warning to others— that’s what lam. No | mind! Leave all your rattletraps baie pen, te be overhaul- ed, if necessary, at his honor the admiral's dis- cretion. I can be hard enough on your boxes, you young Jezebel, if I can't be hard on you,” ith those words old Mazey led the way out of the room. ‘The less I see of her the better —especially about the waist,” he said to himself, as he hobbled down stairs with the help of the balusters. The cart was standing in the back-yard when — reached the lower regions of the house, and Dawkes (otherwise the farm-bailiff's man) was fastening the last buckle of the horse's har- ness, The hoar-frost of the morning was still white in the shade. The sparkling points of it glistened brightly on the shaggy coats of Brutus and Cassius as they idled about the ya, wait- ing, with steaming mouths and slowly-wagging tails, to see the cart drive off. Old Mazey went out alone and used his influence with Dawkes, who, staring ye sae aed ale yon cushion for his fellow-traveler on cart-seat. Shivering in the sharp morning air, Magdalen waited while the preliminaries of were in progress, conscious of nothing a giddy bewilderment of thought and a hopeless suspen- sion of feeling. The events of the night con- fased themselves hideously with the trivial cir- cumstances ing before her eyes in the court- yard. She started with the sudden terror of the night when old Mazey reap to summon her out to the cart. She trembled with the helpless confusion of the night when the veteran cast the eyes of indulgence on her for the last time, and gave her a kiss on the cheek at parting. The next minute she felt him help her into the cart and pat her on the back. e next she heard him tell her, in a confidential whisper, that, sit- ting or stending, she was as straight as a poplar, either way. Then there was a pause, in which nothing was said and nothing done; and then the driver took the reins in hand and mounted to his place. « She roused herself at the ng moment and looked back. The last sight she saw at St. Crux was old Mazey waggine his head in the comt- yard, with his fellow-profligates, the dogs, keep- ing time to him with their tails. The last words she heard were the words in which the veteran paid his farewell tribute to her charms: ‘* Burglary or no burglary,” said old Mazey, ‘* she’s a fine-grown girl, if ever there was a fine one yet! What a pity! what a pity!” THE END OF THE SEVENTH SCENE.

ON THE ANTIETAM. Itt make you sorry for that! The fighting’s fair enough ; but I’m no more a dog than you are, and you shall pay for it if it takes years to do it— see if you don't!” It was Jack Middleton who yelled out this, as, bruised and bleeding, he reeled away from Drake Porter, who had let him up with some contemptu- ous remark about “ soiling his hands,” seconded by our insulting laughter, for boyish sense of justice is not keen, and I doubt if it ever occurred to any of us that any thing from the “ back street” had feelints and passions like unto ourselves. Feud had long existed between what was known in boys’ parlance as the “‘ back-streeters” and “ours ;” the “ back-streeters” pouring forth from two or three wretched tenement buildings in our + and “ours” being represented by the children of the well-to-do row of houses between —d and —th Av- enues in ——th Street. Extremes met here indeed, but only with blows ; the “back -streeters” evidently regarding over- coats and whole pairs of shoes as so many direct injuries, while we considered their very unkempt existence as an impertinence, and with sticks and fists and stones, at every corner, and in every al- ley, whenever and wherever we were <r enough to meet, fought out Society's old quarrel. At such times Drake acted as our leader, fighting with an earnest fury that made all fly before him, unless I except Jack Middleton, the back-street leader, and the opposite type of Porter; olive-

skinned, black-eyed, squarely built, opposing steady, dogged resistance to Drake’s dan, and un- ee dismayed by the fact of being whipped seven times | which Drake stared in utter perplexity and amaze. out of nine, coming up to every battle with a cold perseverance that I never saw warmed to fury but on the occasion above quoted. The threat, however, was but little regarded— hardly remembered, except as a jest; and soon | after, being sent off to school, the back street and its brawls were fast being forgotten, when, oddly enough, Middleton turned up in our very midst— no longer as a New York Bedouin, but as the neph- ew of a wealthy South Carolinian, who had traced, found him out, and <dopted him. Rid of his rags and his hang-dog manner, I have really never seen a finer-looking boy ; and gradually sprung up be- tween him and Drake a curious rivalry (the result, doubtless, of a nearly equal balance of faculties), developing itself in the lecture-room, the gymna- sium, with the girls of the neighboring seminary, wherever they came in contact; and daily grow- ing in bitterness till we were again separated, he going to a Southern university, and we living very much after the ordinary New York fashion, till the war broke out. Nearly all the ——th Street boys were in our regiment—Spaulding, Elliott, Davis, and, best of all, Drake Porter, Captain of our Company, and on the high-road to a well-deserved promotion. It was the 17th of September, the day of the battle of Sharpsburg. Already Monday and a part of Tuesday we had spent facing the enemy, talking to them occasionally with our guns, and answered emphatically by their batteries. As usual, they had the chronic advantage of position, being sta- tioned behind the crest of a hill, and separated from us by the Antietam, sweeping along at their base, and too deep to be forded except in one or two places. The country between was broken, mostly plowed land, sometimes covered with high, grow- ing corn, and terribly cut up with ravines and passes; and, with their usual touching faith in “ the etrongest battalions,”’ the rebels were assem- bled in force, having brought troops from Hagars- town and Harper's Ferry. We had crossed the creek about four o'clock, and after some tolerably sharp skirmishing had fairly carried and taken possession of the woods from whence they had first fired at us. So we were all in famous spirits, with the exception of Drake, who was curiously grave and silent. Before lying down for the night he gave me a little packet. **There are letters for Belle and mother, a ring, and some other trifles. If any thing happens to me you will see to them.” To which I assented briefly enough, I fancy, be- ing much too careful of my sleeping-time to waste any of it in talking. It was midnight already, and every few minutes there was an alarm of some sort: one time it was the rebels shooting each oth- er—by way of practice, I suppose; at another it was picket-fighting ; again they were bringing in half a dozen sulky Confederates; altogether it hardly seemed that we had slept half an hour when the battle began. As the rebel fire slackened the first line went on to the woods with a cheer and a rush, only to be beaten back by the heaviest volleys with which they had favored us yet; and then out poured the rebels, swarming like bees, in masses, not in col- umns, flowing out over the field, and forcing back the second brigade by sheer superiority of numbers. We could see it all plainly enough; and let me tell you, reading liste of names and seeing the men with whom you have lived familiarly shot down before your eyes stirs the blood in a widely differ- ent way. And it was with a “Thank God!” that we heard the signal to advance. Down the hill we went on a run, inaking straight for the corn-field. Half way there Spaulding fell; a little further on Elliott and Manvers. Manvers was Drake's cous- in; Elliott was to have married my sister Jessie— but there wags no time for mourning then. We were close upon the rebels, fighting hand to hand ; and they fought us ‘ike tigers, and held to every inch of ground with a stubbornness unequaled. When we took our stand on the ridge they came at us again and again, with such a dash as seemed as if it must carry all before them. Our guns thundered away nobly on our right; but they had a battery that the archfiend himself couldn't have planted so as to rake us more effectually, while their sharp-shooters picked us off from the woods beyond very much at their ease. We saw no- thing of the promised assistance, an. our arnmuni- tion was giving out, and, tired of waiting, we be- gan to go down into the corn; and just then Dor- bleday had stopped that confounded battery, and the rebels giving back as we pressed on after them into the woods, and with Crawford and Gordon coming close bebind us, things looked like success. All this time Drake fought steadily, and, as usual, in the hottest of the fire, but escaping, as by a miracle, unbarmed. In our downward rush we had carried all before us, but we found the woods a perfect hornets’ nest. The —th, that had never faltered once, broke and fell back now; and Drake, fighting hand to hand, was separated and carried far on in advance of the rest, but being a good swordsman, managed before long to give his quietus to his opponent, who was in a little too much of a hurry. In the struggle they had in- sensibly gotten out of the thickest of the fight into comparative quiet and seclusion ; and Drake, thankful for even a moment’s breathing-time, was ti =) to wipe away some of the blood and grime from lis “:ce, when his quick ear caught an omin- ous click. Ite looked about, behind him, fisally overhead, and there, | owing among the leaves, a rifle-barrel glinted in the s... and a pair of fiery eyes glowed above it. To start. run was sim- ply almost inevitable death, and Drake, | willing even to die in a hurry, folded his arms, sa) i coolly, “My friend, if you are so long in sighting you will be behindhand in your count.” “ T have been longer in sighting than you think, perhaps, Captain Porter,” was the reply, in a not unfamiliar voice, while a series of cautions move- ments showed from among the leaves a face at

} ment. Suddenly light broke in upou bim. “Why, it is Jack Middleton!” “ Precisely ! though your memory ie not so good asmine. I recognized you on the instant, perhaps because I was so anxious to meet you.” “T have beon fighting since daybreak, and don't feel too clear-headed. Do you think you could ex- plain ?” “ With pleasure. I could have killed you twice over, only that I was anxious to make this very explanation. I remember that at school you were always sharp-tet after the reason of every thing It would be a pity that you ehould die without knowing why.” Middleton dropped out these cruel words slowly, watching his victim's face the while for their effect, but no matter what thoughts of Belle and mother were trying at his heart-strings, hc only answered, “You are so tedious that I begin to think you have only a woman's reason, ‘ Because.’ ‘** You shall see. You remember that some years ago you called me a dog; that was the beginning of the debt Iowe you. When we were at school you put it out at interest. You no longer called me a dog, but you treated me as one. You thong I would have been glad to crawl to your feet, an lick your hand, in return for your condescension You would never let me alone. You would not be repulsed. I was not worth your disliking. At ev- ery step you crossed my peth. You took my hon ors, you stole the hearts that would have heen mine I kept account of all these items; and, do you re- member Virginia Brash?” “ A little girl with yellow curls—splendid ones ? Yes, I think I do.” Middleton made a hasty movement, as if to fire, but checked himeelf. ‘ **Drake Porter, I loved that girl, and would have won her but for you. You crossed me there in sheer wantonness. You cared nothing for her; I would have given my soul for her. From that time I swore to have your life. I was sure at last of —” His hand was on the trigger, waiting the com- pletion of the sentence, his body bent in the very act of firing, and Porter was calculating the chances of a jump at the last moment, when whir! went something over his head, and Middleton fell crash- ing through the limbs to the ground dead, shot through the heart*by a chance bullet, if it is not profane here to speak of chance. Drake toll me the story after, and— “T tell you what, old fellow,” he concluded, ‘it was about as peculiar a predicament es I ever caught myself in. There wasn't an atom of feel- ing in my body, except in the spot that that devil's rifle covered; and when that blessed bullet sent him heels over head, I think if there hadn't been a perty of our boys close at hand I should have nelt down and made a baby of myself. On the whole, I am not anxious to try it again.” To which I answered, as in duty bound, “I should think aot.”

IN AN ALBUM. BY T. HOOP. A pretty task, Miss S——, te +k A Benedictine pen, That can not quite at freedom ~ + Like those of other men. No lover's plaint my Muse must rt To fill this page’s span ; But be correct, and recollect I'm not a single man. Pray, only think, for pen and ink, How hard to get along, That may not turn on words that burn, Or Love, the life of song} Nine Muses, if I chooses, I May woo all in a clan, But one Miss S—— I daren’t address— I'm not a single man Scribblers unwed, with little head, May eke it ont with heart ; And in their lays it often plays A rare first-fiddle part. They make a kiss to rhyme with bliss, But if J so began I have my fears about my ears— I'm not a single man. Upon your cheek I may not speak, Nor on your lip be warm; I must be wise about your eyes, And formal with your form; Of all that sort of thing, in short, On T. H. Bayly's plan, I must not twine a single line— I'm not a single man. A watchman’s part compeis my hea: To keep you off its beat; And I might dare as soon to swear At you as at your feet. I can't expire in passion’s fire, . As other poet's can ; My life (she’s by) won't let me die— I'm not a single man. Shut out from love, denied a deve, Forbidden bow and dart, W-thout a groan to call my own, With neither hand nor heart; To Hymen vowed, and not allowed To flirt e’en with your fan; Here end, as just a friend, I must— I'm not a single man. tet

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Janvanry 3, 1863. ]_

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THE PIRATE RAPHAEL SEMMES,—(From an Exovisu Puovoenaru.) THE PIRATE SEMMES. WE publish herewith a portrait of the famous pirate RaPuac. Semaus, now in command of the British pirate-ship Alabema. This man was once in our navy, and acquired an unenviable reputation for bad conduct, which prevented his rising in the service. At the outbreak of the rebellion he cast his lot with the insurgents, and was appointed to command the Sumter. In that famous craft he successfully ran the blockade of the Mississippi, and escaped to sea. For some months he made the civilized world ring with the fame of his exploits over unarmed merchantmen, which he robbed and burned. He always refused to fight a ship-of-war, and had hard work, at one time, in escaping the United States gun-boat /roquois at Martinique. We published in a recent number an account of his, cruise, written by one of his officers. The Sumter was fairly nailed at last in the British port of Gibraltar; there her crew left her, and there she lies still, under the friend!y protection of British guns. Semmes forthwith proceeded to England, where he took the commaad of the British pirate Alabama, and went to sea on 29th June last. His subsequent exploits are fresh in the memory of our readers. He burned ten whalers off the Azores; half a dozen merchantmen between New York and Liverpool ; and some small trading craft in the West Indies. At latest dates he was coaling at Martinique, and the San Jacinto and other vessels of Commodore Wilkes’s squadron were watching him. It is to be hoped they will catch him. Semmes’s family are residing in Philadelphia: one or two of his daughters are at school there.

SANTA CLAUS'S BALL; OR, A PLEA FOR THE CHILDREN. Santa Cvavs had appointed this November night as a dress-rehearsal for Christmas. It was an oceasion when not the Dolls only, but very many others, denizens of Toyland, were expected. All, in fact, who could make it convenient to attend felt it to be a duty to do so. In fact, the invita- tion was almost peremptory. Santa Claus ex- pected to hear from his spies, the Old Dolls, full accounts of the conduct and behavior of his little friends the Children, in order that he might know who deserved his rich prizes, and who might merit the traditional ‘‘ rod in the stocking” as the penalty of their misbehavior. Ile also expected to hear from the same reliable sources what all the mo- thers, sisters, aubts, and cousins were doing with reference to assisting him ; and for this information he was accustomed to rely entirely upon the Dolls. They are a very intelligent race of little beings, if one did but know it, and they always sleep with at least one eye open. Consequently, when the Chil- ‘ren have gone to bed, and the Dolls set in order 1 the nursery, and the hidden work is taken ont, nl the mysterious plans of the family talked over, he Dolls have the best possible chance to see and hear it all, and of course their sympathies are all interested in the Children, and ‘all that concerns thom. Santa Claus was accustomed fo bold this annual festival preparatory to Christmas, in order to know exactly what to do, and what to depend upon. The gala was held in Santa Cloos's favorite winter palace, un immerse, snow-cave in the side of Mount Hécla. ganta Claus found tho climate to agree better with his health thau a more sont hern }

situation, and likewise he found here, in this se- questered spot, the quiet and seclusion so necessary to the mystery in which he is accustomed to invest his good deeds, The palace was all of a glow with warmth and light from numerous fires in huge fire-places, whose vent was none less than the great crater of Hecla himself. The cheerful blaze illumined the glitter- ing ceiling and sparkling walls, and mellowed the atmosphere to almost tropical geniality ; while, to restrain the melting of snow and ice, which natu- rally would have ensued, and which would have greatly incommoded the guests, the palace was placed ander a perpetual spell or charm by a cer- tain witch. This witch when young had been a famous beauty, and a great favorite of the good saint, who was a gay bachelor in those days. Of course she could not preside publicly at his entertainments ; but it was more than surmised in Northern circles that his domestic ménage owed much to her occasional care. It was positively asserted that if she chose she could tell what had become of a certain Geyser, which had mysterious- ly disappeared of late, and there were not wanting dark hints that it had been placed in his kitchen by her agency, in order that he might enjoy a per- petual supply of hot water for his punch, of which it was feared he was becoming very fond. | It is certain that he has been known to lay his finger aside his jolly red nose, wink oracularly,

| than once a day, and often not that. HARPER'S WEEKLY. and indulge in a silent inward laugh and chuckle when the subject has been broached to him. But it is not my business to pry into the domestic con cerns of these excellent people, but to gige an ac- count of Santa Claus’s ball. The dancing-hall was brilliantly illuminated ly certain Northern Lights, ~ nich had generously vol- unteered their services for the occasion, and a great number of Shooting-stars were engaged to act as drivers and torch-bearers to convoy the guests to and from the scene of the festivities. It was ex- pected that this evening would witness the debut of many of the belles and beaux of Toyland, and no pains or expense was spared to make the ball “he affair of the season.” Santa Claus had dispatched his numerous rein- deer teams over the American continent to collect his guests ; anc, les: these accommodations should fail, several Lapland witches had benevolently loaned their broomsticks for the use of such of the company who mixht preferthem. Jack Frost had done himself more than justice in the upholstery and finishing of the palace, which be could well afford to do, having had the contract from time immemorial. The tables were abundantly spread with viands suited to the tastes and appetites of the guests; while Boreas was engaged to furnish music, assisted by a large deputation of Tin Trump- ets and Paintel Drums, who were expected to ar- rive somewhat later in the evening. Santa Claus had to hear what communications his emissaries might have for him, acd this must be attended to before dancing, of course. The apartments were decorated with hemlock boughs and garlands, brought thither with infinite pains. Ash-berries and holly, with the ancient mistletoe, were tastefully arranged over the walls, and huge sparkling icicles glittered among them in pure and beautiful contrast to the rich dark- green of the evergreens. The reception-room was thickly carpeted with Iceland moss for the benefit of rheumatic old Dolls, and to enable imprudent young lady Dolls who might have overheated themselves with dancing to resort thither and save themselves a pulmonary attack by inhaling its health-restoring fragrance. And now, as every thing had been properly at- tended to, and the arrangements were to his entire satisfaction, the old gentleman, in his best suit of furs, with his pipe laid aside for once, in compli- ment to the ladies, stood before the great fire-place in the reception-room, with his back to the fire and his coat-tails judicious!y drawn on each side, awaiting the arrival of his visitors. He did not have to wai, long; for the tinkle of his reindeer’ bells were now heard, and the first installment of Dolls soon entered the apartment. As he expected, they were the invalid guard of the ball, the battered and disabled ones, who had stood one year, at least, of the Nursery campaign, and their battered noses, cracked crowns, and shat- tered or missing limbs bore evidence to the hard service they had seen. Polly, the oldest Doll, opened the conversation with grumbling and complaints. She was a very old Doll. Lame and dilapidated, with one arm and a foot gone, and her frock torn half off her shoulders, and her garments soiled and tattered generally, she presented but a sorry eppearance. After extending a courteous welcome to the lame, halt, and blinded party, he lent a listening ear to her grievances. “If your highness could only know of the go ings on in our nursery. Now I don’t come here to complain of neglect or ill-usage like some, though I was once a very handsome china Doll, and was dressed and petted as much as the beat. Nor do I complain of my broken arm ;” and she sadly held up the stamp of her once plump and snow-white arm. “But it is not myself,” she went on, wiping her remaining eye with a soiled rag of a handker- chief; ‘it’s the Children I'm 80 sorry for. Why, their mother never comes into the nursery more Sometimes 13 she sweeps in in splendid carriage-dress just ready for a drive, and just touches the children, with * There. there! don't touch my dre * and off she goes, while the Children -tand at the window and | ery themaelves sick to see the carriage go off, in which they verv seldom have a ride, and never |

with mamma, unless she goes to clothes and hats. “And when littl Mary had the scarlet-fever, she left some tiny pills with Kate, the Irish nurse, and told her to give them so often, and the child would be well enough in the morning. But Mary worried and fretted for mamma, who was away at a grand party, and Katy was sleepy and tired, and she mutters“ tc hevself—/J heard her—‘ What's the use o° bothering wi’ the like of this thrash! I'll just be giving the poor thing a dhrop o’ eu: bin’ to bring the slape t= her evee.’ And she did give her something out of a bottle, and Mary never woke up out of that sleep. And they carried her away, and I never saw ber again. Mary had me in her little bed all the time, and I know all about it.” “How many children are there left?” asked Santa Claus, blowing bis nose very bard. “Two,” answered Polly; ‘another girl and « teething baby. I know just how many teeth he has, for he tries ‘em all on me, and I know the minute one is through.” “ Poor little things!" sighed the good saint; “I really do not see how I can heip them. Is there no aunt or cousin in the house ?” “Yes. Aunt Sophia and Cousin Bell; but they are entirely taken up with Aid Societies, and Lint Circles, and Hospitel visiting, and they hare no time for the poor children. Mra, Harvey, tho mamma, is wiser. She gave ten dollars to escape the trouble.” * Not so bad! not so bad!” exclaimed the host. “[ rejoice that my friends the soldiers are to fare so well, May the shirts be warm and the turkeys fat that I bring, thatis all! I don’t suppose there is much chance that my juvenile friends are being calculated upon at all, is there?” “Not much. I fancy the Soldiers’ Christmas box engrosses all their time and attention, and tho children — come off second to the public in that house.” “ The poor children! the poor children !” put in another doll “Now where I live there are four little children, and not a rag of new clothes have those poor young ones had this fall or winter, and no prospect of them And not for lack of money either, Mamma is away to the Hospital, or the Aid Society, or the Lint Company, or whet not, as soon as she gets her breakfast, and Tommy's face isn't washed, nor Lizzie’s hair curled until the middle of the aftern wh. when Petty is all done ber work. The cook hasn't made a seed-cake this fall, and every thing nice of jellies or fruit there is, goes to the soldiers The fit them with or whatever children don't know what a kisa or a story ie hardly, it’s a0 long since they heard one; and Charlie's shoes have gaped for patches this month, and Molly’s hat is a sight to behold.” “Well, but,” interposed the mint, “the soldiers are proper subjects for care and kindness They need jellies and the children don't; and, poor fel- lows! they have no mothers te wait upon them.” “Small loss if they are like some mothers I know; but if these mothers don't train and love their own little soldiers at home, there will be an- other great rebellion one of these days.” “ Just my notion,” mumbled an old nut-cracker. “If the Southron mothers had only cared for their chi‘dren when they were littk instead of alwavs threatening to send them to cop rents or boarding schools—and finally doing it to g +t rid of the trouble they ought themselves to take—South Carolina never would have seceded, and Master Peyton wouldn't have screwed my neck off with rage w! of the victory of Fort Donelson.” There was another loud jingle of bells, and a merry load of the aristocrats of Tovland fully ushered in. They he heaid were joV were accompanied by a

SANTA CLAUSS BALL.

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——Ee ad HARPER'S WEEKLY. [Janvary 3, 1863. Zouave, whose pretty china head and brilliant red | Claus knew too well the consequences to pass the white and blue had evidently dazzled the eyes of all the female portion of the company—all but Miss Josephine. She, the waxen beauty in her silk and blond, her tarletan and spangles, her embroidery and lace, felt herself entitled to the belleship of the ball-room without a question, and was especially irritated at the compuny of certain nondescript Dolls, who were exceedingly presumptuous, as she deemed it, in riding in the same sleigh as herself. She was especially conceited on the subject of her birth ; for, as she boasted, she was a genuine Paris- ian, body, complexion, curls, dress, and all; and, moreover, a true Santa Clausian, who had come down standing in Santa Claus’s own hands, and was none of your fair-bought, home-made, home- dressed, got-up-any-how affairs. She had been promenaded on the Boulevards, and aired in the Bois de Boulogne, and was bursting with spite that the Zouave, who was, as she alleged, “ only bought at a Soldiers’ Pair,” should not notice her more than he did, She flirted her tarletans contemptuously past bim, and courtesied to the ground before the host. He greeted her kindly, and courteously inquired the occasion of her clouded brow. ‘ T cannot bear mixed companies,” she answered, with ill-concealed disdain ‘‘ But my invitation was peremptory.” “True, and therefore arn I here,” “Yet, my pretty Doll, your countenance indi- cates that you come reluctantly.” The petted beauty burst into tears, ‘* May I never become human !” sheexclaimed. ‘If my heart is not almost broken with neglect !” (This is the hoped-for future of Dolls, and with good reason, for the metamorphosis is well authenti- cated in many cases.) ' I supposed the fair Josephine was far above the danger of neglect!"’ murmured the Zouave ‘It is very well for you, Colonel Ellsworth, to speak in that way,” she pettishly replied. ‘‘ You know that I have lain io the drawer without a breath of air or glimpse of daylight but what comes through the broken lock of my drawer, while you sit in the Doll-chair, the pet and darling of the nursery, and fee! yourself Lord Paramount every where. My worst trouble, and the cause of all my troubles, is the ambition of my little mistress’s pa- rents, Unfortunately she let it out that she was a “ Neglect ! bright child, and they have shown her no mercy ever since. She goes to school at half past eight every morning. She remains until half past two, then she comes home, eats a lunch, and practices music until four. Then she sews an hour for the Aid Societies, then her evening meal and lessons from seven till nine, when my poor ten-year-old mistress goes to bed. Every day of the week this is the rule except Saturday, when sewing for the soldiers takes the place of lessons at school, and maybe she gets a short walk in the afternoon. ‘Dear Santa Claus, can not you help us? She will die if this goes on. I see and hear this, and it is every word of it true ;” and the tears stood again—tender, loving tears—in her waxen blue eyes. The saint's eyes glowed like sparks under his shaggy eyebrows. **My Master greatiy loved these little ones when he dwelt on the barth, and if their human parents do not more carefully watch and tend them he will gather the lambs to his bosom again,” he murmured softly to himself, as he slowly paced the floor, with his hands contemplatively clasped under his coat- tails A brisk-looking jointed Chinese Doll now hopped p to their host, und began to retail both informa- tion and grievance in his attentive ear. She said that she and her friends Hoop and Hoop- tick, Ball and Bat, Battle-dvor and Shuttle-cock, vere under a ban, and were heart-broken at the as- pect of things in their residence, which was in Bos- ton. She really did not see how she was going to bearitany longer. Evening study was now the rule, uc the poor children went to bed so tired that when they rose in the morning they had no spirits for play atgll, neither had they the time, She couldn't remember when they had had time. Katy was as pale as a ghost trying for the prize or French, and Milly was equally desperate for the Mathematical medal. Sbe stated that her mem- ory couldn’t recall when she had been properly un- iressed and put to bed, and she had quite lost her voice, it was so long since she had been squeezed. The circle smiled at this, and the Zouave mis- hicvously encircled her waist with his padded arm, to which pressure she responded with an ex- tremely natural “ squawk,” which proved her bel- lows in excellent order, and made the Dolls look scandalized behind their fans, and Miss Josephine walked away as haughty as a crowned queen, “It seems that the Aid Societies do not trouble your house very much,” whispered the Zouave, offering his arm for a promenade ; ‘‘at least you Jo not oppose them as violently as many do.” “Ab!” sighed the almond-2yed Squaw Lin, ac- vepting the proffered arm with a mollified air, “if all soldiers were like Colonel Ellsworth! But really, if you could only see the wooden German Grenadiers at our house which came home from the last fancy fair—” The rest of the sentence was lost as they seuntered off to try the flavor of an ice & la Hecla. Santa Claus luoked after them with a peculiar smile. “We have ail been young once,” he sighed. “T had a touep of the complaiut many years ago myself.” There were many complaints and much import- ant information brought to Santa Claus that night, to all of which he attentively listened, and prom- ised to use his influence on the side of right, re- serving to himgelf the privilege of judging the merite of the case. There were almost universal complaint from the eity Dolls that their littie mistresses were over- studied, in school and out of school; and although She complaint cami: selisbly from the Dolls. Santa information in silence. Dull children were in lit- tle danger. It was the bright, talented ones, who needed no urging to study at all, to whom the harm happemed. Boys could and would get air and ex- ercise somehow ; but little girls, bright, studious, lady-like little girls, had no redress if parents did not take up their cause. Santa Claus had a theory that, if a little girl of ten years old made the clothes for her Doll family, it was about as much sewing as she ought to be expected to do; and if she was studious in school she ought not to be expected to study out of school and give up her play hours. He espouse: the cause of the Hoops and Balls, the Battle-doors and Shuttle-cocks, feeling that they had a good work to do, in which the parents ought rather to aid than restrain them. His ‘‘little ones” were especially dear to the saint’s heart, and he believed that his little Peter Parlegians had turned out full as well as those whose studies were more pretentious. He sadly remembered certain bright little faces that, one Christmas, would peer so curiously and sweetly into the stockings it had been his care to fill for them, who, before another Christmas, had laid their throbbing heads and quivering nerves to rest where school-books should néver annoy them more. And he shrewdly opined that if half the amount of study at present exacted was performed in school under the teacher’s eye, and with his assistance, the good results mentally would be doubled ; and if the time thus saved from study be devoted to vigorous romp- ing in doors or out, the value to the little students would be wonderful, and the bright eyes and curls might look into well-filled stockings until years insensibly stole away the child’s privilege. But Santa Claus sighed deeply when he thought how hopeless was the task of convincing parents of this. His heart grew still heavier when he thought of the many nurseries unblessed by the constant pres- ence of amother. Society—gay, bewitching, fasci- nating so@iety—claimed so many, especially young mothers. ‘‘And yet,” he reflected, as he promenad- ed the now nearly deserted reception-room, and the gusty sounds of distant music reached his ears from the dancing-halls, where the Tin Trumpet Band, Boreas conductor, discoursed melody for the mul- titude of twinkling feet—‘‘ and yet this class are not so hopeless after all; for sooner or later sorrow, steadiness, or wisdom come to all, and these gay young creatures turn out pretty well after all; for most generally it is only an excess of animal spir- its which passes off in time. It’s only a few com- paratively—alas that there should be any !--who are incorrigible.” But even Santa Claus shook his head as he reflected that so many really excellent, high-principled, kind-hearted mothers find their duties and tastes leading them away from home and the dear faces there, even to the neglect of his darling pets, who so sadly missed the smile, the kiss, the story or romp, the walk or ride with mam- ma, the sunshine of her presence. And very sad remembrances occurred to him of those who, hav- ing no tender drawing out of love of home, found bright fires and lights (such unhallowed ones!) elsewhere, and sweet smiles and brilliant glances, glowing with no holy mother-love, and accepted the wretched substitutes. He loved the poor sol- diers; they were his especial care. Many a box of comforts and delicacies had he conveyed to them, and so joyfully, when mothers, sisters, and daughters filled them; but his heart sched for the dear Children whose mothers, in réstlessness or ig- norance, had neglected them to minister to stran- gers. He saw in this very neglect, whether from misguided ambition or simply indolence, the one great cause of the Great Rebellion; for, of a cer- tainty, if the Children can obey well, the men will command well, and deserve well of the opinion of the world. The Children of Santa Claus must neither be left to the exclusive care of either Biddy or Dinab. Neither devoted to death upon the school desk, nor impaled by the needles of infanticidal Sewing Societies. The races and romps, the balls and hoops, must resume their rule. “Their precious Doll cares an’ baby housekeeping, the song or story from mamma, the evening frolic with papa, must be re- instated. Bo-Peep and Cock Robin must not be eupplanted by Manesea and Davies, nor Jack the Giant Killer by Dumas or De Staél, nor Mother Goose by Watts on the Mind. Not a bit of it, And St. Nicholas swore by his eight favorite rein- deer to claim back his own, and bid the children be Children once more, He resolved that the children of soldiers, either absent or killed, should fare especially well, and their stockings well filled by hook or crook, and re-resolyed that within the circle of his influence all faces should be bright and happy—Aid Society or Gay Society to the contrary, notwithstanding. So he walked along with his hands in his pockets to watch thedancers. They were holding high revel there. Over the glittering floor they flew, waxen beauties, clasped by stalwart Highlander or court- ly Louis Quatorze, who had escaped from the draw- ing-room mantles. Bronze knights in armor clinked their mailed heels in time with plump china Dolls. Rag Dolls waddled round in the embrace of India- rubber Zouaves. Wooden Dolls stumped round in the Mazurka with the German Grenadiers. Hide- ous Gutta Pé@rchas ard half naked Arabs hob-a- nobbed with Walnut witches over their boiling punch; while Jumping Jacks executed frantic polkas with beautiful dancing Dolls; and Chinese Dolls and Crying Babies squalled vigorously, as energetic Harlequins bounced them around in time to the wild music of the Band. The Northern Lights glimmered and flashed, the huge fire-places glowed with fervent heat. The icicles trembled on the garlands, and the weird music played faster and faster, and round and round they flew under iisenchantment. The Sister of Charity, her skirts smeared with the ink she had wiped from numer- ous pens, simpered slily under her big white bon- net, as she touched glasses with a burly Punch, astride a beer cask. She looked abominably know- ing as she winked to him that she could, if she chose, reveal what a soldier in camp had written under her supervision. ‘‘ That is, I sat on the inkstand, and wiped his pen—so I read his letter,” and she smiled as a gay young tiger replenished her glass with the hottest of punch. I should talk forever to describe every thihg said and done that night. I shall only hint how certain Dolls, too old to dance and too young to stay at home, formed in a snug whist party, and en masse got gloriously fuddled, insomuch that some ventured too close to the fire and were in- stantly reduced to glowing charcoal ; while others, not discerning the difference between a witch's broomstick and a comfortable sleigh, imprudently chose the former, and while in the act of sailing home, singing ‘*On the bat’s back do I fly!" incontinently tumbled off and were lost in the Arctic ocean, and never heard from more. The younger portion of the company, who drank only ice-water, all got home in perfect safety before cock-crow. Santa Claus made a speech to the Dells, in which “he assured the Dolls that he would attend to their grievances, and see to it that they had more of the time and attention of their little mistresses than ever before; also that a flea should be judiciously ‘aserted into the ears of the mothers, to the intent that their assistance and co-operation should be lent to further his plans for a merry Christmas, He added that the soldiers were the fathers of his children, and had been his children themselves, and should receive his especial care and attention. All that couid be done for them was right, except when it robbed little ones of their mothers. Like- wise, the children and orphans of soldiers were un- der his especial care, and he promised to co-operate with all Dolls from Faney Fairs, to see that they were placed where they would do most good to the children.” He squeezed Polly’s remaining hand, and ex- horted her to mind the slippery steps, and pinched Josephine’s glowing cheek, as she courtesied before him down to the ground and showered her flaxen curls over her waxen beauty; she leaned on the arm of the Ellsworth Zouave, who tenderly wrapped her white opera cloak around her, as he placed her inside the sleigh and took his own seat on the box beside the strolling Star who acted as driver for the nonce. He comforted Squaw Lin, who looked venomous- ly after them as they departed, with a promise of a splendid gutta percha Uncle Tom, and laughed him- self sore to see her look of disgust. He felt an inward disquiet, though he could not keep his face ctraight either, as he saw that the Walnuts and Gutta Perchas had had more than was good for them, and more than doubted if all of them would arrive safe home. He detained the demure Sister of Charity a mo- ment with a whispered hint of caution under her bonnet, and gave her arm a sly pinch as she nodded so violently that she nearly lost her head-gear. There was a secret understanding between them, only to be divulged to you, dear reader, He watched each guest depart, and the long train of matrons, each escorting a load of merry, sleepy, tired Dolls home to their nursery, streamed across the ebon sky like a procession of sparks from a great conflagration. They were the happiest Dolls that ever started off to a midnight frolic, and the tipsy ones made their exit singing, “ Wewengohomt'limo'n'g, *T'lidayitdoespear !” Then he went in, lighted his pipe, and sat down to cogitate before his fire till morning. Then he con- cluded that an account of his ball had better be sent to Harper’s Weekly, aud see if a plea for the Children could not be made through its pages ; and I did it for him, and here is the story. CHRISTMAS EVE. Tue dearly cherished anniversary of so many hundred years comes back to us again in all its sacred beauty and antiquity, kep: by somé with the time-honored custom ef gathering togethér all the members of the family, near and distant, and distributing among them welcorie tokens of aifec- tion, of which kind old Santa Claus is supposed to be the donor. The happy few may, perhaps, again this year celebrate their annual festivities ; but oh! to how many will it be a season of sad, sad memo- ries! Qn the left hand of our picture, on pages 8 and 9, we see the fond wife with the likeness of her brave soldier clasped tc her heart, looking up to the moon and thinking that it is also shining on him, if indeed he still be above the sod, of which she, poor soul, has never-ceasing and bitter misgivings. The gentle moon shines just as brightly as it did last Christmas when he gat lovingly by her side, and they talked with delighted anticipation of the children's joy, when, on waking in the morning, they would find that Santa Claus had more than realized their fondest hopes in the gifts he had pre- pared for them. Notwithstanding the anxiety so painfully weighing on the mother’s heart, it shall still be ‘‘ Merry Christmas” with the little ones ; and as they lie nestling so sweetly in their little crib, she carefully fills the little stockings, which have been expectantly hung in the chimney, with all they have so eagerly desired. Then she decks the room tastefully with greens, and hangs a wreath below the dear absent father's portrait, which greets the little ones with loving eyes as they awake. Meanwhile the vision of Santg Claus showering his gifts down tue chimney comes to them in their merry, happy little dreams, while his sleigh, laden with gifts, is impatiently waiting to jingle off te the next of his favorites. On the right of the picture sits the subject of these tender recollections. By the light of his camp- e looking up fire he can plainly see the loved at him from the likeness he holds igvhis hand. As he gazes he fancies he is again with ghe deor ones at home ; it seems as if the children’s werry tenes would momentarily ring out with gay laughter. He thinks he feels the clasp of his wife’s hand, the slender fingers twined so caressingly round his own; but he raises his eyes, an’ his own dreary Christ- mas comes back to him i: all its loneliness. The aoon is shining down o1 the beautiful river, and plainly reveals the forms of two of his comrades on sentry duty. Quite near him is another, who, basking in the warmth of the fire, has fallen quietly asleep, the snow iying on the ground sparkles in the moonlight, and all is very still. But there is somelody who remembers the soldier’s Christmas. Behold Santa Claus driving along with merry speed, and as he goes he rapidly throws out boxes filled with good things by the thoughtful hands at home, wherein the soldiers shall find enough te make them a jolly Christmas feast, and to drink the health of those they love so dearly. On the lower right-hand corner we see one of many of our noble ships struggling with the storm ; their duty this Christmas time is to be as active as ever on the watch for privateers, while others bleck- ade the rebel ports. There is no merry-making for them this holiday season ; only to be tossed alout on the wild deep, while the great waves seem to toy with their strong vessel. On the lower left-hand corner our troops sre marching along despite the snow which lies deep on the ground, and is still falling. ‘Onward to Victory !” is the word, and they continue to press forward. Rsins can not damp their martial arder, snows can not chill those true spirits, cold cen not freeze the warmth of their leve for freedom, peace, and Union. At the top is the Northern Light glowing behind Washington’s tomb; and as Duganne says, in one of his Ballads of the War— ** When Sumter’s cannon in thunder spoke, And Sumter’s lightning blazed— When out of the gloom of Vernon's tomb The soul of the Past was raised; When Union's stare, on the shield of Mars, Were lifted by Freedom's hand, Then the light of the North went grandly forth Through all our loyal land!” Below this are the peaceful graves of those who have numbered all the Christmases they will ever spend on earth. There they lie, side by side, buried on the field where they fought their last battle. The sad hearts of their mourning mothers, sisters, wives, and children can only find cemfort in know- ingsthat they nobly responded te their country’s call, and that they yielded up their lives to its glory in as true a cause as ever made hearts beat with patriotic emetion. And so let them not mourn, but HONOR THE BRAVE! QUASHY’S MASTER. You remember 7 Queote, Gant pant He made your acquaintance h the columns ef Harper's Quas Will you Lear an ancedote or twoefhim? He was sum- moned once in direful to attend a danghter of Eve hn gery-my It was a lonely, ol farm- house, and the iy computed G2 mam, Bi aed three old of the farmer, by name '° Nabby, and f F B : after ** poor Naacy.” A few minutes ela) and tl skirt to show her pretty ing by adding a double handful of salt. ** Dolly,” called Nabby's shrill voice, aad the feir child it to the beiling mass. Then he sat dewa with ome queer little twitch at the cerner of his mou' Half an hour later, and Nabby ** Poor Nancy" wasn't ready te see the Doctor yet, and she guessed B git | :€ ast f ¥ E f 3 z iF = i Hed be ad a be r Parti y 4 eis or) ELE TS fee ee - F a>. Ete ia eerie a hh ges eee BEE A ee SEES te PSEURRGS EGSDE.B 4.82 CEEEE FESS. 02823 ,E FF" esc eee

Page 15

Janvary 3, 1863.] HARPER'S WEEKLY. 15 “I s'pose you like mush avd milk, Doctor? It's farmers’ *,” remarked i i F i F 3 : ceremoniously waiting for his hostesses to begin eating. “ Well, our’n I guess is as —why, Lud-a-massy-on- me, what upon aarth ails stuff!” exclaimed Hetty, putting a into her mouth, and swallowing it with u . sure enough, it's jest as salt as brind itself!" ejaculated Nabby. “Oh my! I do declare! I never did see!” chorused Se en ee had been pretty into all manner of shapes. ** Then," recommenced Nabby, with a self-condemnatory nod of the head, “"twas J sp'ili it. i sulted it w'en I put See ons thee I ous 00 tet Op ee See - got kitehen fire, while the Doctor returned into the adjacent It was just at nightfall, but through the little square ptm oh pl mpeg ary pl ete pole = ay ae 4 seen bad come at last, with mingled snow and rain, hurled across the wide flat marshes by such aes 2 wind as they have upon the sea-board, and now’ else. The stout-built house winced and trembled; the great trees waved in terror, bowed in subm: but were rent liggb from limb im spite of all by the mad, wind Tt was an awful night. The Dector wae just returning from the window, when , belted about the waist with a stout rope. “ Are you going out now?" asked the Doctor, bluntly. “She ain't gone yit,” whispered the husband, not no- the Doctor's question. ‘ But I want, Sir, for you te let me know the very minit the breath’s out'n ber body, ‘cause I must go and warn the bees.” “You,” the man, compassionately, mistaking Doctor's ant astonishment for sheer “ Paps you didn’t never hear that when one of the folks ; F i ; ' 1! be i g : § 2 A FFs ip? i p B 7e i F Lf i! lf L not the ghost that had vanquished him, and that he Was no more frightened or flurried than if he hadn't “ft. im. Suddenly straining his eyes to discern the path, again was sure that « tall white figure, with eee aa aeoetke Geo and with a quick firm step he boldly ad- was no delusion! He saw the vapory white dark hair, the pallid face and baleful approached near and nearer, until, as he out his hand to touch it, it uttered a loud, shrill mn aH ai Re ee See ee Ss OS aes Docter stood still and w his brow Bight was frosty and the wind a shrewd one. Just then his eye the twinkle of a candle in Josh Stebbins's pom he ; and ony fiat pee impulse, he his wa: t to oor, as he was wing his wife to bel. “There's some sort of curious creature in your wood-lot, Stebbins,” he, “ Take your and a lantern and come down me. Perhap: we see him again.” AeA i : i E : the . somewhat unwarrantable heat. jon Seine word ip yourear. Here's a silver doflar You, and sve you say a word about my little mis- Ps oe ou! an Ghder my bands!” Stebbins promised, and his years at least. Galt emeae ane , when any one spoke But then—that's enough for once of the old Doctor. ADVERTISEMENTS. A SPECULATION. $15 per day made sure, and more if you persevere selling our great NEW STYLE Union Prize and Stationery Pack- age. Something NOVEL and UNEQUALED. Different to all old styles, and coutaining ALL NEW ARTICLES of good quality. Writing Materials and Fancy Articles worth $1 for 2 cents. Just the thing for a Splen- did Holiday They are standard goods, and every- wants them. Profits immense and sales quick. to each person who orders our ID WATCH, warranted as a time- in endless variety and at all = Camp and every Town. is is a chance for soldiers in camp or dimharged. for yew Circulars containing Eztra inducements. 8. C. RICKARDS & CO., 102 Nassau Street, New York, largest and oldest Prize Package House in the World. Agents Wantep, in every Camp and Town to sell our New Mammoth Eureka Prize Pac . Wegive free a Beavtirut Warton to each Agent. $12 to $18 can be made every 7 Send for our new Circulars. W. H. CATELY & O©O., 40 Ann Street, New York. Attention Masons and Soldiers. I will send (as sample), on the receipt of $1, 2 handsome Gold Masonic Pin or or Plated Vest chain, or « fine Gold Pen and Pencil, or ved Locket, or Bracelet, or Neck Chain, or « beautiful set of Jewelry, t with OCireular. B.T. HAYWARD, Manufacto- 208 Broadway, New York. $16 WATCHES. $16 “Holiday Presents.” Ladies’ Watches.—A fine Gold Plated Hunting Case full —— Lever, "7 4 Solid 18 k. Gold in finish and gen- r $16, usual retail price $25 to $35. J. L FERGUSON, Importer of Watches, 208 Broadway, N.Y. MAGIC TIME OBSERVERS The Perfection of Mechanism. EING a Houwrixe anp Oren Face, on Lapr's on GeytLeman's Warton Comsinen. One of the prettiest, most convenient, and decidedly the best and chea timepiece for general and reliable use ever offered. It has within it connected with its ma chinery ite own winding attachment, rendering a key en- tirely unnecessary. The cases of this Watch are oom- of two metals, the outer one being fine 16 carat gold. it has the improved ruby action lever movement, and ix warranted an accurate timepiece Price, superbly en- graved, per c2se of a half dozen, $204.00. Sample Watch- es, in neat morocco boxes, for those proposing to buy at wholesale, $35, sent by express, with bill payable on de- livery. Soldiers must remit payment in advance, as we can not collect from those in the Army. HUBBARD BROS., 80.2 Iurorrers, Cor. John and Nasseu Streets, New York. KEROSENE LAMP, HEATING ATTACHMENTS. Also arranged for GAS, viz.: Nursery, or Night Lamps; ‘Taxa anv Correr Borers; Hosprrat Borers. &c. Light and Heat Combined. Send for a Circular A gente wanted. W. L. FISH & CO., 589 Broadway, N. Y. 66 (TE HUMAN PACE DIVINE,’ — A NEW SYSTEM OF ak eg tng Eyes, Lips, Mouth, Hi Hair, . " wih“ fhems Oadatess how to read them, given in the Phrenological Journal AND LIFE ILLUSTRATED FOR 1863, devoted to ada to the com of all. Volume. Sub- een Only $i 00 a year. Samples, 10 cents. Ad- dress, FOWLER AND WELLS, 308 Breadway, New York. Artificial Legs. Artificial are furnished to soldiers by Government w t charge, by applying Dr. Bly. A Lye coutaining full de- scription, a ie free of charge by addressing JGLAS BLY, M.D., either at No, 658 Broadway, ned Yok. or T, N. Y., or Cincinnati, Obie. PENSIONS, BOUNTY, PAY, PRIZE. MON. EY. Claims, tg by SOMES & BROWN, No. 2 Park New York. Send for our Hand-Book of Informa’ ‘Rheumatism—Who has it? wahpede iy Seng ery Sy nny re an have used them, that the Galvano Electfo Metallic In- Soles are the only preventive and cure. Sold by all drug- sin cnt an aes eo Price $1; sent by $125. S-cured by E and American Patents. Send for a circular. M AM & O©O., 429 Broadway. NATIONAL AMERIO. CARDS. ; King, Goddess of Liberty for Queen, end Major for Jack. 52 enameled cards to pack. Shields, Stars, and Flags are the suits, and you can play aii he usual Four packs mailed free on receipt of One Dollar D2 YOU WANT L fe MISKERS OR MUSTACHES !—My Onguent will est Splendid Holiday Presents. 100,000 WATCHES, &c., &c. WORTH $600,000, To be sold for One Dollar each, without regard to value, and not to be paid for till you know what you are to get. SPLENDID NY OF ARTICLES TO BE SOLD FOR ONY: DOLLAR EACH. 100 Gold Hunting Cased Watches....... $100 00 each. BOO Gold Wateee 6. 6 csccccccscccccccs 60 00 each. 200 Ladies’ Gold Watches .............. 35 00 each 500 Ladies’ and Gent's Silver Watches... 15 00 each. 5000 Vest and Neck Chains......... 5 00 to 10 00 each 3000 Gold Band Bracelets .......... 5 00 to 10 00 each. 3000 + be 4 tedibee « 800 to 500 each. 3000 Cameo Brooches .............. 400 to 6 00 each 3000 Mosaic and Jet Brooches ....... 400 to 6 00 each. 3000 Lava and Florentine Brooches.. 400 to 6 00 each. 3000 Coral, Opal, and Em. Brooches. 400 to 6 00 each 8000 Cameo Ear Drops............. 400 to 6 00 each. 3000 Mosaic and Jet Kar Drops ..... 400 to 6 00 each. 8000 Lava and Florentine Kar Drops. 400 to 6 00 each 3000 Coral, Em., and Opal Ear Drops 400 to 8 00 each. 5100 Gent's Breast Ping............ 250 to § 00 each. S000 Watch Keys.................. 200 to 6 00 each. 5000 Fob and Ribbon Slides . - 20 to 6 0 each. 5000 Sets of Bosom Studs .... ««» 250 to 600 each. 5000 Sleeve Buttoms................ 250 to 600 each. p00600000cese sense 250 to 5 00 each. 6000 Stone Set Rings............... 250 to 6 00 each og rere 2 50 to 10 00 each 5000 Sete Ladies’ Jewelry........... 5 00 to 10 00 each. 10000 Gold Pens, with Silver Mounted dolders......... . 40 to 5 00 each. Cases and Pencils. ....... . 400 to 6 00 each. All Gold Pens 14 Carats and Warranted. All of the above list of Goods will be sold for one dollar each. Certificates of all the various articles, stating what each one can have, are first put into envelopes, sealed up, and mixed; and when ordered, are taken out without re- gard to cholee, and sent by mail, thus giving all a fair chance. On receipt of the Vertificate, you will see what you can have, and then it is at your option to send one dollar and take the article or not. In all transactions by nail, we shall charge for forward- ing the Certificates, paying postage, and doing the busi ness, 25 ceuts each, which must be inclosed when the Cer tificate is sent for. Five Certificates will be sent for $1 ; eleven for $2; thirty for $5; sixty-five for $10; and a hundred for $15. AGunts.—Those acting as Agents will be allowed ten cents on every Certificate ordered by them, provic eir remittance amounts to one dollar. Agents will collect 25 cents for every Certificate, and remit 15 cents to us, either in cash or postage stamps. Great caution should be used by our correspondents in regard to giving their correct ad- dress, Town, County, and State. Address J.H. WINSLOW & CO., 208 Broadway, New York. Wanted by a Bookseller. A thoroughly competent Retail Sab One of ex- perlence, with satisfactory refereuce, can make an enguge- ment at cnce, at a fair salary, by addressing Lock Box 686, Cincinnati, Ohio. AT INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION, LONDON, July lith, 1862, eas’ Maizena Was the only “ preparation for food from Indian Corn" that received a medal and honorable meution from the Royal Commissioners, the competition of all prominent manufacturers of ‘Corn Starch” and “Prepared Corn Flour" of this and other countries notwithstanding. Maizena The food and laxury of the age, without a single fault. One trial will convince the most sceptical. Makes Pud- dings, Cakes, Custards, Blanc Mange, &c., without isin- glass, with few or no eggs, at a cost astonishing the most economical. A slight addition to ordinary Wheat Flour greatly improves Bread and Cake. It is also excellent for thickening sweet sauces, vies for fish and meat, soups, &e. For Ice Cream can compare with it, A it tle boiled in milk will produce rich Cream for coffee, choc- olate, tea, &c. Put upin 1 pound with directions A most delicious article of food for children and invalids of all ages. For sale by Grocers and Draggists every where. M ed at Glen Cove, Long Island. Depot, 166 Fulton Street. WM. DURYEA, General Agent. Men’s Furnishing Goods — aAND— -COLDEN HILL = SHIRTS. No. 4 Warren Street. Szconp Door rnom Broapway, NEW YORK. Represented by N. R. MERSEREBAU, L. N. WYANT. India-Rubber cure Chapped Hands, Salt Rheum, ée. Sze soft, smooth, and snowy . re white; are impervious to water either hot or gold, and are an excellent protection in all kinds of housework. For aale by the trade generally. Sent by mail om receipt of price and 4 stamps to pay postage.* Ladies’ siges T5 c. a pair; Cente sizes, $1 00. GOODYEAR'S L. RB. GLOVE M'F'G Co., . way, N. Y., Dealers in every description of Rubber Goods, Whole- sale and Retail. MILITARY GOODS. Swords for Presentation, Sashes, Belts, and Bpaulettes, Guns, Pistols, and Revolvers. Every article in the Military Line Wholesale and Reta!!. W. J. Syms & Bro., 800 Broadway, New York. PRIENDS OF ! All Articles for Soldiers at Baltimore, W ton, Hil- ton Head, Newbern, and all places ocoupled by Union troops, should be sent, at half ra.es, by HARNDIN'’S EXPRESS, No. 74 Broadway. Satlers charged low r-tes. FRENCH WINES AND BRANDIES. From Paul de Coninck, Monod & Guiraud, Bordeaux, France. Warranted strictly pure, For sale by J. MARC MARTYN, Importer, No. 208 Pearl Street, New York. UTY .—Hunt's Bloom of Roses, a charming and 7 color for the cheeks, or lips. Will not Court Mailed free from observation for one & CO., Perfumers, 138 & Seventh 8t., Philad. ee ee THE BEST GIFT For Soldiers in the Field Is one of Evans’ Portable Tent Heaters Can be put up in Ave minutes. Will heat any tent in the service, is packed with seven feet of pipe, in box ten inch es square and eight inches deep. Price complete $6. Send for Circular J. W. EVANS, 21 John Street, N. ¥ Bast India Pale axd BURTON ALES. Also, TONIC BITTER ALE, brewed from the choicest Barley, Malt and Hops, In Whole, Half, and Quarter Caske, for Home Con- sumption and Exportation. J. McPHERSON SMITH, DONALD SMITH. N.B.—As many ask for Smith & Bro.'s celebrated Ales, and e SUBSTITUTE ie offered, consumers will do well to see that they obtain the GENUINE. DRINCE’'S IMPROVED FOUNTAIN PEN.—One filling writes §to 10 hours, Sent by mail, Send stamp for circular. GEO. F. HAWKES, No. 64 Nassau St., N. Y. The Prince of Holiday Gifts or Presents “THE CRAIG MICROSCOPE” Magnifiers small objects 10,000 time So simple thet e child may use it. A most rritable present for any person Price by mail $2 26; with six mounted yhjects $8. Ad dress HENRY CRAIG, 182 Centre Street, New York - HARPER’S WEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE Por January, 1363. ConwTenTs : A CALIFORNIAN IN ICELAND. Finer Paree ILLverna tions. —The Great Geyver.— Hans Chrictiaa Anderssen.—Andersen's Last Work.—A Daady Tourin —Thorshavn. — View in the Farce Ideude.—Paroese (hb!) dren.— Faroese islanders.—.Kirk Giboe.— Farm-Hoase and Ruiny.—Faroese on ‘lorseback.— Natural Bridge. — Coast of Icetand.—The Meal-Sack. ALONE, CARDS AND DICE. (LL oerRa TIONS. The Chevalier, 109%. Woe to Drunkards. —Jacquemin Gringouneur’s Card.—Sworde ss Tramps.— Hindoostant Cards Hindco Court-Cards.— Chinese Cards.—Nine of Paroquets.._ard- Party of the Fifteenth Century.—Seven of Ulubs.—Seven of Diamonds. — The Sun Card, 1454 —Court-Card, 1480. Murner's Logic Card, 1608, Circular Card, 1480, — Court-Card, 1480.—The Valet.—Court-Card, 1511.—Kuave of Clube, 1618. —Knave of Hearts, 1610 A LOST LOVE: ITS RESURRECTION PAST AND PRESENT. HOLE-IN-THE-DAY. ILivertaTions. —llole-in-the- Day TUBEROSES. THE LEAGUE OF STATES ROMOLA. By the Author of “ Apam Bane.” Cuarrer XXi. Florence expects « Guest Cuarren XX. The Prisoners Onaprer XXIIL Afier-Thoughte. Cuarrer XXIV. Inside the Daomoe. Cuarren XXV. Outeide the Duomo. Onarren XXVI. The Garment of Fear Iuivereations.—In the Via Lerga.— The Escaped .—Nieccolo at Work CARLYLE’S TABLE-TALK MISTRESS AND MAID. A HOUSEBOLD STORY By Mies Moock. (Coneluded.) THE DEPARTURE OF THE SWALLOWS, THE REVOLVING TOWER AND ITS LXVENTOR 1L.LoeTRa TIONS. —Firet Model of the Revolving Tuver, 1541.—Theodore R. Tiuby.— Vertical Section of Revolving Tower, —Revolving Towers an’ ( bhains for Harber Deenge —Seetion of Hull and Naval Tow. THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON Cuartes 1X. Dice. Dale's Little Party. Cuarren X. Mrs. Lupex and Amelia Roper Cuarrer XI. Social Tite. Cuaprer XIT. Lilian Dale becomes a Butterfiy. ILtveTEaTtions.—Mr, Cradell, your Hand.—Johnny Eames’ « Letters. MONTHLY RECORD UF CURRENT EVENTS EDITOR'S TABLE. EDITOR'S EASY CHAIR EDITOR'S DRAWER I.LueTRaTions.—Ab awful little Cookuey.—The Cur- rency Question. PASHIONS POR JANUARY. ILLUSTRATIONS, —Bal! Drees. Children's Costumes TERMS. One Copy forome Year . . .... 25 we Two Gopies for-One Year . . . . © An Extra Copy, gratis, for every Club of Tex Sux scninens, at $2 50 each, or 11 Copies for $85 00 Hamprn’s Magacoune aod Hasren’s Wreasy, gether ope year, $5 00. Single Copies Six Cents. et 5 TERMS. One Copy forOue Year. . . . . . . $8.00 One Copy for Two Years . . - 600 And an Extra Copy will be allowed for every Club of Ten Scupscuturns, at $2 50 esch, or 11 Copies for 826 Harper's Magazine and Haxrrn's Weeey, together one year, $5 00. The Publishers employ no Taavetmne Agawts Parties who desire te subscribe to Harper's Magazine or Harper's Weekly had better remit direct w the Publieb ers, or pay their eu joa to some Postmaster or Gen eral Agent with whom they are acyuelated, and of whose responsibility they are assured. HARPER & BROTHERS, Prucisnena, Pasncim Syren, New Yost A ee iti a

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16 HARPER'S WEEKLY. _ = —— eee ot ————————— —

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j — 0 nese at 479 Brondwaly, Letweng Briere and Grand Ste | Yearty terms $°. Four copie: §). Piiblished by T. 8 PAVIS COLLAMORE & ¢ ARTHUR & CO, 223 Walnut Street, Philadelphia. re ¥ f \\ . N " \SS Sa) { a ~~ r 4 NN SES Ww >| COMRO Toff \) ws \3i — ee Lrscotn. ‘* This reminds me of a little Joke—”

[Janvary 3, 1863.

TAA DEGATMEN ct gy

{ fay AS

CYERY Ow —_— - rf ao

im | i> sit i S| | Siete Sit. ’ | y 4 . MHA NN NK }

Corums1a. “Go tell your Joke at Sprivcrretp!!”

HOLIDAY GOODs. Schuyler, Hartley & Graham, 19 Maiden Lane 4»» 22 John Street, 15 Rue d’Enghein, Paris. 47 Hampton St., Birmingham. Eng. Are now receiving by every Steamer New and desirable styles of FRENCH AND ENGLISH FANCY GOODS, Suitable for the Holiday trade, Consisting in part of Bronzra, Manrtet Onn amens, Masete CLocrs, Cagp Recervens, Puoroornara ALsums, PorTMonn aces, Oprvs Cases, Freup anp Orera Grasses, Work Boxes, Dnrserne Cases, Panty & Barpat Fans, Leatoea Gacs. Also, a great variety of FINE JET A¥D CORAL GOODS, To which they invite the attention of all parties pur- chasing in this line. A full Stock of Murrary Goons, Gone, Pistois, Cotieny, PLatep Ware, Watcrns, Diamonps, eto, Also FINE ENGLISH SXATES.

Skates 25 cents to 25 dollars. Everything in the skating line (ex ponds) to suit all ages, sexes, tastes —~ A NOVER & WALKER, 474 Broadway, N. Y.

Tomes, Son & Melvain, ' 6 Maiden Lane, New York.

Dealers jn Arms and Military Goods of every Description. RICH PRESENTATION SWORDS. Smith & Wesson's Breech-loading Rifles and Pistols, Bacon Manufacturing Co. Revolv.og Pistols. IMPORTANT TO AGENTS!! — We have reduced the wholesale price of our Great Stationery PorTrotio Packaon. We also give better Watches to our Agents than any other firm. Send stamp for new circular. WEIR & CO., 34 South Third Street, Philadelphia. Lyon’s Kathairon. This delightful article for preserving and beautifying the human hair is again put up by the original proprietor, and is now made with the eame care, skill, and attention, which first created its immense and un dented sales of over one million bottles annually! It is still soid at 25 cents in large pottles. Two million bottles can easily be sold in a year when it is again known that the Kathairon is not only the most delightful hair dressing in the world, bot that it cleanses the scalp of scurf and dandruff, gives the heir a lively, rich luxuriant growth. and prevents it from tuening gray. These are considerations worth know- ing. The Kathsiron has been tested for over twelve years, and is warranted as described. Any lady who vaines a beantiful head of hair will use the Kathairon. It is finely perfumed, cheap and valuable. It is sold by all respect- able dealers throughout the world. D. 5. BARNES & CO., New York. ro CONSUN — You will get the r a sure cure for Coughs, Colds; Con=tim

lung complains, by sending to D. Adge, +N. Y. He seta it free. Write for it.—It has cured thousands.

959 ORNAMENTAL IRON 959 WORK, Wrought, Cast, and Wire. IRON RAILINGS, VERANDAHS, BALCONIKS, GUARDS, and IRON FURNITURE of every desecrip- tion. Illustrated Catalogues mailed on receipt of four 3 cent stamps. HUTCHINSON & WICKERSH AM, 259 Canal Street, near Broadway, New York. Union Prize Packages. Dunn & Co.'s Head-Quarters, 118 Nassau 8t.,N.Y., and Chicago, Ills. Send for circulars (largest house in the U. &).

PERFECT FITTING SHIRTS. Made to Measure at $18, $24 and $27 PER DOZEN. Self-Measurement for Shirts. Printed directions for self-measurement, list of prices, and drawings of different styles of shirte and collars sent fiee everywhere. Frenon Firannet Anuy Surets, $24, $27, $30 and $33 per dozen. 8S. W. H. WARD, from London, No. 387 Broadway A BEAUTIFUL MICROSCOPE! MAGNIFYING §00 TIMES, ern Sh COIN PRE-

FERRED. Five of different powers, $], Mailed freo. Address F. C. BOWEN, Box 22), Boston, Mare.

Observe, each Skate is labeled with the trade mark. Also, 50,000 pair of Ladies’ and Gents’ Ice Skates, com- prising all the new and most improved patterns, made from welded steel and iron hardened; Skate Straps and Leather Goods of every deecription; Fogg’s improved Lever Skate Buckle. Sole Agent for Williams, Morse & Co.'s celebrated Skates. FREDERICK STEVENS, 215 PEARL STREET, New Yors. 68 KILBY STRELT, Bostor. COLDEN HILL SHIRTS.

RETAILING r=" At Wholesale Prices. _<~! Depot 2 Warren Street. J. W. MERSEREAU. HOW TO BE BEAUTIFUL. Read PHYSIOGNOMY in the bo arg Journal. a No. ready. cents. $l a year. Janusry FOWLER ‘e weuts, “ aa OW IS THE TIME FOR AGENTS TO MAKE MONEY. — Agents are mecting with ex- trsordinary suce: , with Mrs. STEPHENS'S great work, the PICTORIAL HISTORY OF THE WAR POR THE UNION. Itits ellished with over two hundred Iins- trations. Two} 1mes, royal octavo, 496 pages each; age Ga setmese thee 1.6.W No. 165 William

ER” eee