Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, January 12, 1873, Page 5

T e R s e e Vet e 5 e e . #hose rank was - And the Indiang e _ THE CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE: SU = R AY, JANU! RY 12, 1873. 5 WASHINGTON. A Timely Word from Belknap. Honor to the Remains of James - Wilkin- sen, Generalin-Chiel of the Lnited States Army, Foriy-Seven Years Forgotten=-Who Was He? Account of All Our Generals-in- Chief, From Our Oun Correspondent. . ‘WASHINGTON, Jan. 8, 1873, Amongst the generous and thoughtful acts of the present Secreta.y of War, none will give him more choracter with students in our politi- cal history and the army profeseion than the following COMMTXICATION, which he sent to the Senate, of his own motion, on tho 5th of December last: Wan DERARTMEST, Dec. 2, 1872 Tho Secretars of War has the honor fo invita the at- teation of the United States Sonate au Houne of Rep- resentativea to the fact that the remains of Major Gen- eral_James Wilkinson, a vetersn of the Americen War of Independence, who was in 1793 Commander-in- Chief of the Army of the United Slates, aud vs ot & ater aste one cf 4 m Terzltorial ‘Governors of Mige=isaippi and now lic{n a corner of the Ebusch of San. Miguel, in 'the City of Mexico, which s long since been closed, without mouument or in- scription to mark lis fomb, He Lee, therefare, the honor to recommend thst Congress suthorize the exhumation of the remains of this gulant and meritorious American soldier, and their removal to the Netional Gemetery of the United States in the City of Mexico,—the expenses of such tsinterment to bo defraged from the general appro- pristion for the eatablishment and maintenance of Na- tional Cemeterics. Wat, W. BELENAP, Secretary of War. TIE FORGOITEN ONE, Genersl James Wilkinson, whoso body has liin go Iong unnoticed in the old church-corner of & forcign capital, was onc of the dozen or more successive Commanders-in-Chief of the Army of the United States ; and, more than any other Commander of that Army, cxcopting Washington, and possibly oxcopting = Win- field Bcott, his civl a8 well a8 his milltary life was _variable, adventurous, and enggestive. His sbililies in his primo wore never disputed, though his motives and charac- ter havebeen. It wes his misfortune, with & fory nature, {0 cross the orbits of many pol- jticians and politico-generals, and theee, and their literary servitors in tho present genoration, bave fallen into -the Lisbit of eetting Wilkinson dovn as 8 plotter and trader, 88 if that had got bezond all question. I believait to be a proba- Dlo thing to _show Wilkindon to have been, as XNiles' Register said .at the nows of his death, “more sinned against than sinning.” IS CHABACTER. He had all the qualities by which &1l geniuses are distinguished, and, thereforo, from the fer- tility of his nature end the extent of his genius, heinvaded every weak man's province at the samo timo. As & writer, ho was tho first elegant one which the West ever knew; and, while the infant Territory of Kentucky was struggling with destiny as o mere appendsge of Virginia, Wilkinson's letters on the subject, dictated from Eentucky, where he was & private citizen, gave purpose to the pioncer spirit; for a great popu- lar purpose can seldom take organization till & good writer comes on the spotand puts itin form. 4 3 BEMINISCENCE. At 20 years of ago this man was the Adjutant Goneral of Gates’ venturous army, and he bore to Congress the oficial report of the surrender, 23 he had taken to Gates from . the British lines the articles of capitulation. His temerity and abundance at that early time made him the un- conscious vehicle' of the exposure of the cabal between Conway, Loe, and Gates to overturn Washington. 1f he could get into a dificulty with promptnesi, he could got out of it s read- Ly, aud he'kept the friendship of Washington, whilo he challenged Gates. His precocity was his bave, but that also was one of tho accidents of his genius: As prompt in trade and diplomacy &8 in war, he founded the commerce between the Ohio and Spanish New Orieans, while it was yet scarcely 2 matter of inquiry by the Government. In tho Presidency of Washington, wken the Indians " and British wero threatening to ravago all the frontier of Pennsylvania and Virginia, and hold the West for & wildernoss réserve, Wilkinson sent a mep of his own makiug to Washington, who replied that it was “by far tho best ho had sver seen of the country.” If somo had looked - .npon him as = young upstart for his success in the Revolution, thoy must have repented to 8co him leading tho main wing of Wayne's army at the Battle of {ho Miami; sand, 8t the ago of only 99, after eighteen ~years' civil employment; ‘o became General-in-Chief of ‘the United States army. With an interrup- tion of two years, helield that position, virtually for sixteen years, received New Orleans and Lonigians from the Spanish, overthrew Burr'a conspiracy, and, although twice court-martialed, e came out gallantly overy time, and had to bs got rid of by disbandment at last. NS ERRORS AND IN8 PORTUNES. It was his misfortune to be procipitatedinto evil times end occasions, and to have the knack of ubiguity, 5o that, although Lo might do fifty things successfully, some other thing, where hd must needs and also principally be, could not held but go wrong. I am not prepered {o say that he was a eafe man, but it B to B doubted whether any American of his period, General Jackson excepted, bad Lis geaeral vigor, docision, and understending, HIS MIROMS. After leaving tho army, he did = wise act: to write his memoirs, at the age of 59. This ex- traordinary book, which ia a collect of his geninz as well as of Lis imprudences, was published in in Philadelphis, in three volumes, at three dol- lars & volume. It reads like Livy and Napoleon compoundod into one man of letters and action. OLD AGE AND DEATH. ‘Whon this book had been published, Wilkin- 3on betook himself, old and unshrinking, to tho City of Mexico, to beg & graut of land in Texas w®herenpon ho £hould plant & colony. The Stato of Marsland voted him, before he went, a full pension as Colonel of Dragoons for life. He sttained his object, and had chosen for the ot of his 'colony & tract on ibe River Trinity, 40 milos from Galveston, or on tho Sabine, 40 miles from Nachitoches. Had 6 lived to consummate his project, James Wil- kingon, and not Moses Austin, might have been the social founder of Texas. Bat, on the 23th day of December, 1825, at the ripe age of 63, he ceased his wonderfal career; and the intelli- feme was bronght to New Orleans in a letter rom Mexico City, dated two days aftorward. He was followed to the grave, says his letter, by the most distinguished military officers, and by all the respectable foreigners in_Mexico. Tho ly wes taken from our Mipister's hounse (oel D. Poinsett), in the afterncon, and every effort was made with the v, emment to let it be_interred with military hon- ors. Theso wero denied, on the ground that they were not permitted even to citizens of the Sountry. 0ld Wilkinson probably turned in his E‘Av!l! he knew that fact, for hé had lived for o sonse of &lary; and, it anything shall hap- Ppen to make the old man's repose contented and Sasuege his troubled spirit, it will have been this Lug;estion, nearly fifiy years after his de- Cease, Ly & young Secretary from the banks of that insiesippi on which he was the: im) Pioneer. Ths order of chivalry on the Eippi is LaSalle, Wilkinson, Jackson, Grant. WILEINSON'S PEEKS IN MILITABY RANE. Let us look at the roster of the Commanders- [groat battlo was Plattaburg. capaclty of forming in line in thick woods, and an ‘ecsy mode of gecuring and prolonging tho. flanks with a lme of extreme open order, having oach filo more than an arm's length asunder. Washington then:met his problem, and prescribed the conditions under which Wayne wes to advauce; and the conse- quonce was the ontiro overthrow of the savages, and the peaceabls occupation and immediate getrlcment of the whole of Ohio. s il -The Elates are now being called upon by Con- ess to contribute each two statues io tho National Capitol. If Ohio undertakes to do this in the spirit_of real gratitude for her military deliverer and creater, one of those statues will bo that of Anthony Wayne. *‘General-in-Chiof " 'was the next titie para- . mount after Washington becamo President. It wes first held by General s JOSTAN HABMAR, who served from 1759 to 1791. There were but 1,400 troops in the nm{lwhen he took command at Cincinnati in 1700, His carcer wes briof and inglorious. He was tried by court-martial, and tefl'ii_Ened his commisgion January 1, 1872. o third General-in-Chief, 80 called, was ARTHUR ST. CLAIR, who held the place but & little while, und was the subject of a terrific burst of rage from President Washington, when St. Clair had lost nearly ull his army near the Miami villages. He would have beon court-martielled, but Waeh- ington eaid that there was a deficiency of oflicers of rank competent to form such & court in his case, and tho poor soldier resigned, at the age of 56, after twenty years' unsuccessful but con- sciontions service, and Le died unpaid, and near- Iy unpiticd. Tho next General-in-Cliof, 60 etyled, was ANTHONY WAINE, ‘who nover lost his commission by death or resignation, but died with it in his pocket. d, well-mar- \V:jne wes s surveyor, well edu ried, and with fair political abilities, His gery- ices'in the Revolution wero almost unifortaly g0od, buthe nearly received & court-martial on account of the massacre of Paoli. Ho was one of tho fathers of the canal system of America, which Wushington at first had ro faith in. Next camo JAMES WILEINEON, 4 who, a8 I hiavo enid, was Genoral-In-Chief nntil 1812, exceplinga year or moro when, war being imminent with France, ox-Preeident Washing- ton was chosen from his retirement to take the head of our armies, with the title of *Lieu- tenant. General.” Thia titlo was one peg loss than bis former rank of Ger.eral, which he had held when the nation was without an Executivo. Mr, Adums now being President 2nd Command- er-in-Chief, Washington deferred to him, and was named only Lientenant General, During three years, Major General DENRY DEARBORN g was ranking officer of tho army. He lived four years longer than Wilkinson, and was born six Years earlicr. When ho was taken from ihe com- mand of the Northern Army, in 1813, General Armetrong gaid: ‘' Thecommand of that army is burden too heavy for General Deerborn Lo carry with advantage to the nation or credit to olf. From 1815 to 1828, “ JACOB BROWN = was General-in-Chiof. Ho wss a Pennsylvania Quaker, who cut his eyo-toeth in New York, where the Ststo gave him a commission. He died in Washington City in 1623, and his body ia buried here, in tho Congressional Cemetery. Brown's widow was_still living after the closs of the Rebellion. His battles were fought on the Niagars frontier, where we never obtained much glory, 2nd he was General in an unusually poacoful period, as became his education and tneology. Tho noxt General-in-Chief was ALEXANOER MACOMD, who is buried close by Genersl Brown. He was born in Detroit, of & fur-trader, and was raised in New York. ‘He_was with Wilkinson in the Southwest, and adhered to his fortunes. Hig During the thir- en years of his commandership, there waa little to fight about, except the Irdi Next came old General SCOTT. Bcott was General-in-Chief from 1841 to 1861; for him the brevet rank of Lieutenant Gener: Was revived by the courtesy of Frank Pierco, who' defeated Lim, in 1855. His all-sufficient el wres the campaign {rom Vers Cruz o Mox- ico._ Bat ho had the cut of & professionsl man, the biue blood of Virginia, and he undoubted! had a great intoning cffect upon the army; an Lis militery publications, based upon “his ob- servations In Europe, show him to have been a capablo soldier. It must bo observed, however, that the nation experienced its noblest growtii in sclence and liberality during his period, and Le was 3 part and a product of this auspicious Icdians. e. General Scott’s happy acquiescence with the Union, which can nevor be ccused of cetimat- ing bis value too slightly, crowned his great ago with peacefulness and honor. But, if be had gense and eensibility, he also had a vast amount of gelfishness. His domestic life was not s pleasant as Wilkineon's, nor his parental affec- tions as deep and porrennial. He was a calcu- lsting child of fortune, the moet luxurious of all our Generals, and would cheat at long whist if he played with the Goddess of Liberty. Wil kinson, who disliked bim,—indecd, despised him, and suspended Lim at one time,—wrote in his ‘memoirs a terrific account of the old cLap, and of Lis duel before Natchez, whero he says that, when Scott fired, he ducked_his antagon- ist’s ball. If Mr. Wilkineon Las been a great many years covered up with reproach, it 18 in part’ because General Scott, whom ho_acorched through the whole three yolumes of his me- moir, made the army sentiment from 1841 to 1561 Scott's own sutobiography sttacks Wil- kinson neaxly forty years after hia death. Tt is to bo hoped that General Delknap's sug- gestion will clear away & space by which we can put aside the Jast third of a century, and, disin- terring Wilkinson, disinter also what justice belongs to his name. RANK AND THE GUINEA'S STAMP, The Commandors given above woro ail Major Generals except two, Who appear to have been Brigadiers even while Generals-in-Chief. Major General Grant was made Lieutenant General. Finally Wushin%!on_'e grado of General was ro- vived, at the close of the rebellion, and con- ferred upon him. For this there wes amplo reason, but there was no good renson for con- tinuing that grade after General Grant became President,—mot becauve General Sherman w28 not meritorions, and in the highest degreo talented and eflicient; but, in the due courss of things, the titlo of General should have boen left open, 6o as to merit some such unusual cases as those of the chief hero of tle Revolu- tion, and of the recoverer of the Union in civil war, THE MAN IN ST. MIGUEL. James Wilkineon, whose name has suggested this letter, was born in Calvert County, on the Patuxent River, of Marvland, of an old and landed family. His father purchased, about 110 years ago, 500 acres of land, afterward com- prelionding much of tho present City of Wash- ington ; hut Wilkinson’s mother objccted to re- ‘moval fo that wilderness place, and the valusble property was trausferred to a neighbor. ilkinson studied medicine in Philadelphia, but, beving a natural gonius for the army, he shomldered a firelock at Qeorgetown, now in the District of Columbis, in 1776, and, when tho Battle of Liced’s Hill came, he 'refuted to wait wuntil tho regiment ‘waa perfected, but pushed on single-handed to Boston, whero Greene mado Lim an Aide, and Washington geve him & Capraicey ; and the first thing e had to do when ho joined his regiment, » boy, was to pat down a mutiny of his company in New York City. He served with Arnold, and was one of the first to expose’ that jockey's ras- celity. He left Arnold's staff to join Gates'. Ho was beside Charles Lee when the latter was ca) tured, and defended his own liberty ; aud Waeh- ington made him Lieutenant Colonel after he had pasaed through the battles of Trenton and Princeton. He served on the first Colonial conrt-martial which had the pluck to put a British :Ey to death. Gates, a short time before eir quarrel, wrote to Congreu that he hed never met T ‘more cnius, than Wilkinson, promising military 3 i en ‘of the last impor- ‘whose services have tance to my army.” Wilkineon, up to 1616, Ladmade eight voyages by sea, . descended the Mississippi four times, traversed the wildorness féur times from Louisi- ana to the Potomac, and in 1802 he travelled 16,000 miles. 3 o literary taint which has been put upon his memory is that of meditating & similar con- spiracy to Burr's. This was judicially tried ‘before s court-martial, and never sustained. ‘The military failure of his life occurred on the Ontario frontier, where—between the universal £n-Chief of tho American Army. First was s v o o “ General and Commsander-in- finef ;" it began in 1875, and was surrendered " & Aunapolis st the close of the Revolution. fiome,_persons in these davs sppear to doubt t Washington was a cloge tacticisn. I call %fi attention of such.to a suggestion waich tshington made to Wayme in 1794, when the - Jery intagrity of the States seemed involved in the fasne of beating the British, the renegades, in Northwest Ohio, who . $ompletely overthrown t. Clair's army, and had hfl“'n. &iflg{ifihb .fi.fi; l.i]n:h ciriiuzed people. shington st the Smportant points .¥ere a facility of forming an_ peder of battle i &2 order of march, 80 28 to be able to ro- 8t 8 eudden sitack from any garter: slso the respect for the riches of Genera! Wade Hamp- ton, the greateet elsvehalder in the country, and the mean ambition of Jokn Armstrong, Secretary of War, who had expected to make = plisnt tool of Wilkinson, since thev had served together on Gstes' etaff—Wilkinson ~ was aban- doned on both sides. - Daniel D. Thomp- kins, the bibulous Governor of New York, wroto of Wilkinson, when the old man Lad got to be 60: - * He is wonderfully tenacious -of his au- thority, very Indifferent sbout his old_carcass, and ho vapors toa mach.” For' this Wilkinson devoted seversl paragrapha to Tompking in his memoirs, which are as funny reading at this distance 28 if they wero & passage in the Dauneiad. - “HIS ENEMTES. Wilkingon attributed to John Randolph. his long pemsecution. The sketch he es of Randolph, at the opening of his eecond volume, is a terrific opening outof Randolpl'a vile- ness; and he challenged and posted that Therrites, who could only retort in mean specches and invastigation. Wilkinson ascribes to Daniel Clark, the attributed father of Mrs. Gaines,— whom he calls “a renegads who hLas four timos changed Lis sllegisuce,”— a pecu- niary resson for furnishing Randolph with slanders. He regarded Winfleld Scott 28 a snesk for tho . other two, and npamed tho oOler-auxious and now- pearly-forgotten John Armstrong to bs thein- strument 1n the weak times of President Madi- €on to make Wilkinson o sacrifice forthe loss of Washington City. = While' suspended from the command, he wrote an imploring letter to tadison, entreating to Le given the defenco of tha Capifal; and his fortility in expedients and-wonderful knowladgo of topography heresbout sro never better in- stenced than in his criticiem of that campaign, 2nd in his substitution of a better one for it. i{a is almost the only American General who has treated the campaigns of the Revolution with retrospectivo military coalysis. Tho fact was that Wilkinson's literary Foweru ‘were forever in the way of the security of his rank ; but, wher- over ho went, with pon o sword, he was formid- able and inlumn’nfi. Itwill bo remarked that Dearly every one who denounces his conduct in Louislana wus either tho ally of Burrat the titze, or a drivelling worshipper of Barr, like Mr. Parton at a subsoquent day. IS FRIENDS. Jefferson and Washington, Iamilton and Greene, aro good authonties, and had ample oc- casion to know and measure Wilkinson. The former made him & Brigadier-Goneral many years aftor the Conway cabal expired. Jefferson wrote when Wilkinson was old and in straits: ‘“After he got over bis first agitation (inthe Burr mmes we believed his decision firm and his conduct "zealous for the defoat of the con- epiracy, end, although injudicious, yot meriting from gound intentions, the support of the nation. As to the best of his life I have left it to his friends and encmies, to whom it furnishoes matter enough for disputation. I classed my- self with neither, and lesst of all in this time of Lis distresses.” Greene and Hamilton both ap- preciated and admired him. Mr. Hildreth, who messures men narrowly, speaks with almost uniform admiration anc compassion fcr Wilkinson, and eays that he wrote the beat "of all the acconnts of the Rev- olutionary War. IS ELOQUENCE- His speech beforo the court-martial st Troy, in 1814, where he was honorably acquitted and his sword returned, can be read at this day with a8 much interest as when the old man pro- nouncedit. Baidhe: “If guilty, letmy pun- ishment be excmfih.ry; if innocent, scquit me with honor.” fhe Adminigtration, desiring to Dae him found guilty and disgraced, hired Mar- tin Van Buren to usurp the place of Judge Ad- vocate, kmowing that the regular Judgo Advo- cate in the army could not cope with Wilkinson's Leenneas of intellect and splondor of rhetoric. Wilkinson closed ot the beginning with Van Bu- ron, and made & classical argument to show that e was not entitled to prosecte, either under the army rules, the acts of Congress, or the Constitu tion. To Van Buren's astonishment, Wilkinson carried every point, and tho thirteén mombers voted that Van could take his traps and leave. Madieon's Administration turned twelve of the thirteen men out_of the army at the disband- ‘ment, which, as Wilkineon dooanot fail to show, was a mero act of malice, such 88 was done by the public and tho Senate toward those Senators who voted not guilty at the impeschment trial of Andrew Johnson. FISIS. No one will undertake, without ehrewd inquiry, to justify the whole life of Wilkingon; but Jio was, without doubt, one of the most driving American men of 'his_time, patriotic on Iarge grounds, and imbued with the beliof that he was the country; and, through the lapse of time which has taken place since he led his careor, we can look back npon him as upon Jackson, Fremont, Kearney, and many another spirit who became entangled 'with the ambitions of poli- ticians, and was cut down b{l hosts of enemics, the very number of whom show the importance ho attained, * Gatm. S TR e A WOMAN'S DREAM. YWilt thon begin thy lifo agafm, O woman of the whitening hair! Bocome a child, with rhining train Of angel children {n the nir ¢ Wilt feel thy mother's kinses preas, Thon cradled warmly at her feet 7" 4 What 7—find my vaniched Eden? Yes, Ab, yes, my God! It was 80 sweet I “Yilt thou n blissfal faith resume ‘Thy eire’s fond shelter as of old, While, breathing innocent perfume, The white flowers of thy heart unfold 2 Bagk to thy vernal Lappiness Fly liko a bird on pinions fieet 27 #3Iight but that joy continuc,—yos, Al yes, my Godl It wus 80 sweet1? #Wilt thou unlearn thy sorry lore, And shyly pesp life’s laavea between, And, feeding youngest hopes once moie, Forget tho wintera thou hast seen 7 The dainled banks, the dove of peacc, ‘The morning freshness round thy track; Shiall these return?? ¢ My God, ab, ves! Al but the wayeide graves give Lack )" . “ Have, then, thy wieh] Thy eters retrace! Flowérs, perfume, song, Lo thine onco more ] Yet aball tima lead theo to the placa Of tears ns eurcly o8 before, Rekindlo passion’s fires and view Tiselr cver Lalefal radiance 1" *3What, light thoeo earth-born flames anew? Ab, o, my Savior| Tako mo hence!” ~—3Madanie Valmore. An Incomprehiensible Toye From the Baltimore Aseriean. - C. Lewis Dunlap, the grocery ‘merchant, ia créating quite a seneation by the exhibition of & nowly-invented and most incomprehensible toy. It is a plaic box, with & glass underneath the lid. On_ the centre of the glass is a_circular papor three or four inches in diameter, and on the outer part of the glass aro threo movablb, circular borders, that havo on them tho answers to four or five, hundred questions. Tho questions are on thros circular picces of Enpun 'rom underneath the circular aper in the centre of the glass the figrre of & ittle hand projects. When one of the circular borders is laid onthe glassacorresponding circu- lar centre piece, having on it over a hundred quostions in geography, history, chemistry, end other ciences, is selocted, and when & person de- siring to have one of thefo qnestions answered places that question of the centre of tho glass opposito s point on a corresponding disc, Lut not touching it by eovoral inches, nor heving s connection with any machinery, tho little -hang whirls round, and invariably picks out of the hundred ansiwers on the circular disc {Le only one that is a correct and definite nnswer. This curious toy, which seems to evinco intelligence, is called chiro magica, and is supposed to be based on_newly-diccovered principles in the magnpet. It certainly is far more curious than tho planchet, with which folks that incline to spiritualism are wont to amuse thomselves. A gentlemnn who, bofore he reformed had a good deal to do with tho ** wheel of fortune™ so often scen at race’ courses and show grounds, suggests that ono of tho constant dodges resort- ed to by thoso who exhibit thoso whecls” may explain the principle upon which the chiromagic toy is constructed. In the *‘wheel of fortune ™ & gold watch is placed, at a point where it scems probablo that s revolviug ball will touch it, and the watch is offerod to the Iucky individual who, at s dollsr & chanes, will turn tho lucky ball so as to touch the watch, but hidden at the point where the gold watch is placed is & magnet that ropels the whirling ball ‘which will often stop just on one side or the other of the magnetic iniluence, and thus incite the unsuspicious better to try, tryagain, From the fact that in the chiromagio toy the question has to bo gllcad at & parti point, the probability is that doing 80 forms a magnetic line to that part of the toy which ghows the regular anawer, and the terminus of which becomes the point of attraction for the magnetic hand. Proverbs. fganooTane Do nothing in haste but gripping o' Nothing men of itaslf bat dut nails. and long ‘Ho that cheats me once, shame fa’ bim ; if he cheats me twics, ehamo fa’ mo. 3 A hadden tongue makes s slabbered month. He was scant o’ news that told his father was hangit. . ITALIAN. To trust is well, to trust nobody is better, The deed once done, there is an erd. i The shroud is made without pockets; what is put in the sleaves can’t go in the skirt. The ditches are full of clever after-thoughta. One's country is there where ono finds himself comfortable. DUTCH. ' Better stomach burst then fi?od victnals spoil. Love others well, but love thyselt most; give good for good, but not to thine own cost. Bird never flew g0 high but it bad to come to earth for food. A brilliant danghter makes # brittle wifa. ‘A guest, like & fish, hath a bad odor the third day. ihouso full of daughters is & cellar full of sour beer, LONDON. A Lecture in the Provinces. Who the Lecturer Was, and of Whom Eis Audience Was Composed, . ; The Subject of His Discourse, and the Manner of Its Delivery. From Our Ouwn Correspondent. " e . Loxpox, Dac. 19, 1672, Englishmen who have lectured in the United States usually eay, on theirreturn, that the audi- ences are cold. They miss the loud cheers, tho sympathetic langh, the emphatic **Hear! Hear! Hear!” of their countrymen. But American audiences are roported to have other qualities which are very much of a compensation: Last night, T was prosont at a lecture ata town about 20 miles from London, which suppliesa favorable £ypo of its class. Tho reador will galn an jdea of the whole inatitution if he will read this brief sketch of A LECTURE IN THE PROVINCES. A circular issued & week ago announced to the nsighborhood that the Committee of tho Woyr- bridge Mutual Imbrovement Society ‘‘have great pleasure” in informing their friends that ¢ William Henry Hall, Esq., Chevalier of the Legion of Honor and Honorsry Distributor of the Daly News Relief Fund the French peasantry during the late Franco-German war,” would deliver a lecture at the National Schools, on “ The Battle of Sedan,” and would exhibit ‘s large number of relics brought from the battle-flele.” Ina rural dis- trict, the Rector is usually the promoter of = society of this kind.. The lecture is gencrally in his school-room, and he is ordinarily in the Chair. A lino on the printed circular, farther informing us that “carriages are ordered at half-past 9,” leads to the conclusion that the surrounding gentry will be reprosented. When 1 rosch Weybridge, I fecl tho value of carriagos, or covered vehicles of some kind. The rain has ‘been pouring down for 13 kours, and, on stepping out from tho little station into the darkness, tho blinding drops [beat on my face. The half- dozen flys of the place are engaged. Only can they meet the wants of the hour by taking folks away in batches,—returning, in eome cases, three or four times. Tho roads around are ankle-deep inmod Rain has been falling, with very short intervals, for threo months, and the low grounds aroswamped. Broad shoots of water cover the arablo lands a8 well as the meadows, and the farmers aro beginning to despair. But, despite the wind, and the rain, and the mud, the popu-~ larity of the locturor and of hia subject bring him o crowded audience, and, even as our party reach the doors of the warmly-lighted school- room,we can hardly wedge our way to our seats. TIHE LECTURER is one upon whom a good deal of interest cen- tres. His career is a littloremarkable, consider- ing tho average commonplace life of gentlemen in his position. Fifteen years ago, Mr. W. H. Bullock, scion of an ancient Enfllah family, was at Balliol College, Oxford, s favorite papil of the colobrated Professor Jowett. His university coursa was brillint, and, when ho left, he pos- sossed the estoem alike of undergraduates and of College Dons. l-‘ollcvm'nlf mo. profession, 2z, Bullock, after leaving college, shortly displayed that Jovo of adventure which lets none who possesa it remain in: useloss stagnation. His family have been strong Conservatives for gen- orationa past, but hisown sympathies wero with the Liberals,—even iwith Liberals of the ex- tremest school. Thejinsurrcction of the Poles especially awakened {his sympathies, and he recolved to 1itnosd tho issue. 1 suppose fevw positions could b more exposed and danger- ous than that of & campanion of the Poles in the daring but_hopeless struggle against their oppressors. Tho appalling cruelty of tho Rus- sians toward the Poles—cruelty which is not ex- ceeded in the records of the barbarians of any race—made even tho risk of capturo, to one who was in their camp, risk of life. 3fr. Bullock remained with the Poles, however, to the end, experiencing seversl Lairbroadthcscapes. After that, Mr. Bullock went out with Garibaldi, snd \'Mdpl‘esanb at the battle of Mon:ana. He trav- elled also to Mexico, with his friend, Alr. Baun- ders, one of tho chief writers in the Saturday Review; and ho witnossed, I believe, the _downfall there of the French power. During the Franco-Ger- man war, Mr. Bullock accepted the task of dis- tributing the large sums collected throngh the Daily News (upward of £20,000) for the relicf of the non-combatants iu the northwestern provinces of France. He waa himeelf s large contributor, and, like all who were with him, gavoe his eervices to the Fund. For nearly six months Mr. Bullock remained inthe Ardennee, exposed to & hundred deaths from fever and from bullots. Henursed the sick aud fed the Btarving,—arranging a system by which some fort, gos received, twice & weel, supplies of which kept them from starvetion. With the noble band was a member of Mr. Bullock's {amily,—Miss Cross, & lady who, rich as sho is in intollectual gifts and in personal attractions, ir richer still in ths full tenderness of a woman’s heart, Inthe nnes, the names of Mr. Bul- lock and Miss Cross will never bo forgotten. But what connection has Mr. Bullock with the lecturer, Mr. Hall? The explanation lies in & singularity of tue English law. AMr. Bullock was tho nephew of General Hall, s wealthy land- ownor, and a great friend of the Princo of 'Walea andof the Duke of Cambridge. The estates wero entailed upon the nephew, but, when they came into his possession this year, ho was com- lled to take the name with them. Very fow,per- aps, on eithier side of the Atlantic, would object to chinnge their names upon similar conditions. Mr, Hall (late Mr. Bullock) is now & very large 1and-owner, and alresdy he is boginning to show tho sterlingness of his nature. ~Ha is granting his tenants leases for ton years, wheress the General naver granted any. ~He is building cot- tages for the laborors, just as he has built model thouses in Bethnel Green for the poorest of the oor of London, and he gives the tenants leave o shoot every hare and overy rabbit they can find. He still keeps up his soat at Weybridge, ‘Which has been his hesdquarters until this year, and it is his popularity there which brings whole throngs of families out of their homes on this most wretched of ovenings. THE CHAIRMAN AND THE AUDIENCE. The Vicar or Rector of a country parish bat too often presents an afilicting spectacle when called upon to spesk without the ®id of his notes. The training of the highest clergy does not include the art of extemporaneous dolivery, and tho church parson is & slave to his manuscript. Not nine out of ten of them could offer up even &K{u in public without the aid of the Prayor-Book. Our Rector to-night is elderly and gray; but his experience bas not saved him the sgonics of norvousnoss in the ulpit, with his sermon_before him. X bave no oubt that he bas confidence énough, and that ho donounces ovil-doers with an unction which supreme self-confidence does the most tosupply. But to-night he amiles feebly as he eays & few commonplaces about “the plessure we ,nuhlvu“’ and “I am sure we are greatly in- dehtsd" and “We shall all listen most atten- tively,” and #o forth. He shifts uneasily frem one leg to the other, and opens his lips s thongh he were gasping for breath, rather than for words. 6till, there is a refinement in his accent, in his dress, and in his manners, which are rarely wanting in bis class, and we feel in- stinctively that he is a “ gentloeman.” Looking round the andience, I notice in the front seats, which consist of cushioned chairs, the local aristocracy,—the gentlemen in evening dress, and the ladies in fall dress,—whose chestnats or grays have just trotted away in stately fashion from the door. Behind them aro the doctor, the lawyer, the auctioneor, and the iradesmen of the disirict, with & plenti- ful aprinkling of the young men whose ‘* mutual improvement " it is object of the Bociety to promote. I see, too, young girls with emiles on their lips, and older ones with crochet-work in their 1aps. I see o fair one in a prominent front row, who'ia working slowly with some colored wool,—and a tantalizing young beauty I find ber. 8ho 18 as aware 5 any one that she is pretty, bt she tries to pretend she is nnconscious of it! The articled clerk at the lawyer's, the ‘‘assist- ant"” at_the doctor's, and youth of the other sex indiscriminately, ‘try to - catch her eye, express in their gaza their sdoration; but mho feigns not to notico it, and looks quietly from the lecturer to ber neodles in s manner which is positively maddening. On the ontskirts of & crowd I see odd butlers, man-servants, housekecpers, and purses. They have but & vague ides of the “Battle of Bedan,” but life at Weybridge has not much of excitement, and they were th to aak Jeave 0 go and hear ¢ thos lecture,”” This to’ audience is not an undesirable one if you have eny ctory to tell. Thoy will cheer you on elight pretext to the echo; and as for laughiag, tho eally of an infsnt would move them. Whether the military operations of a battlo are oxactly adspted to their tastes, is another mutter. ' THE LECTURE. In front of a large mep, and of pictorial repre- scntatiors very cléverly done, and in the midst of battered Prussian hamlets, Chassepota, cart- ridges, and Uhlare’ lances, slands a slight, well- made figuro, fairly tall, with & face which is the idoal oue you would give to your favorite poet sohor you iad mover soan: “Tho. oyes. Ae: aoft and mild, with juet a ehade of mclancholy be- tween their long lashes. The voice is musical, with a cadence which you might, for a moment, imagino was affectod, bat which waa cultivated by Universil; undergraduates somo years back, and has becoms with them a Becond nature. Mr. Hall gave his lecture with spirit and emphssis, but ho also was too dependent upon his notes. When he left them at certain places, it was curious to sce now much more_animated he becamo, and how sure it was that tho cheers of tho Learers would break in. Baut, speaking critically, I was of opinion that the lectiiro dealt too mucl with the military tactics for & general audience. Nothing can be more thriling (L Lavo board it) than s locturs upon s battle by ons who witnesaod it, if only ho dwells upon its features ns they change from hour to Lour,—not thinking of the chess-boerd, but of the men who are fighting and dying upon it. AFTER THE LECTURE. 3 Whon ths locture was over, we bad our Rector 2gain who was moro inano than before. When Lo ceasod, a tall, good-looking man in clerical garb, rose to support the vote of thanks which tho Rector had moved. He spoko fluently and woll. Thero was_on ease and direcincss about bis delivery, and & warmth also, with which it wes Bfrack. On asking his mame, it was informod that it was the Noncomformist minister of Weybridge,” thus supplsing en ilastration of ons resson why Dis- sent holds is ground in England, despito the immense influence and the prestige of ai Estab- lishment. The dissenting prescher, whatever Lis sect, learns how to spoak to his fellow- men, from his mind to_their minds, without the chilling medium of & book. A fow minntes later, we will paes ont with greetings to our acqusintances, from tho com- fortable, cozy room, to the sleat, and tho blast, and the worse than Cimmerian gloom. SOLANGE. ' Tranalated from the French of Alexandre Dumas. Iweain Paris during the most torrible timos of the Revolution. One ovening I was going rapidly homeward, when I unddmli Tieard a wo- man’d voice raised in the most heart-rending cries. I stopped immediately. I knew that it was too early in the eveniufi( (it waa not yet 10 o'clock) for any distress of this kind to be caused Dy thieves. I ran toward the_ spot from whence I'heard the sounds issue, and there, by the light of the moon, I eaw a woman struggling in tho midst of a band of Sans Culottes. The woman also eaw me, and obuerving by my costume I was a gentleman, she threw heraelf towards me, uylni : “This citizen will prove to you Iam what I represent myself to bo, the daughter of Mother Ledien, the laundress ; am I not, Mon- sigur Albert ?" The Ea\mg girl pressed my arm in the most beseeching manner, and I understood at once. Asshe had called me by the first name sho thonght of, 80 I gave ber the first name I could G e Solange, 18 it you? What * Why, my poor Solange, is it you 8 has lnppenedg?‘ “There, do you see these gentlemen?” sald e. “I think you had botter say citizens,” inter- rupted the Sergennt. " Listen, Mr, Sergeant, it {8 not my fault it Ilook like an aristocrat; my mother worked always for the rich ; she was_accuatomed to be olite, and it is a bad habit she has taught me; u;‘yim can I do, Mr. Bergeant, I cannot Lelp it ‘There was in thisreply a raillery imperceptible to all but me. I asked myself who could thia woman bo? Itwas an impossible problem to solve. Iwas sure, howover, that she was mob the daughter of & laundress. “This is what has happened, Mons. Albert: I was. taking home some linen; the mistress of tho house was out; I was waiting to receive my money. Dame! every one needs all the money she has these times. ~Night came on; Ihad ex- pected to return b dn{lfight, 80 had not brought my passport; I foll into tho midst of these gen- tlemen—TI beg their pardon—citizens ; they asked to see my passport; I told them I had none; thay then wished to conduct me to the guard; scranmed, and yon ran to my sid, which was & thing to bo thankful for. I waa reassured; for Ieaid to myself Mons. Albert knows that my name is Solange, and that I am the daughter of Mother Ledieu, and he will be responsible for me. Am I not right, Monsieur Albert 2" 4 Certainly,” I replied, ‘I will answer for you, and I will bo responsible for *¢'So far, 8o_good," answered the chief of the K[:triut, but who will be responsible for you, onsieur ?” “ Danton; is that enough, lshe a good enough patriot 7' 4 Certainly, if Danton will be you, I bave nothing more to say. “Yery well, to-duy the eesion is heid at the Cordeliors. T.et us go there.” “We will go there,” eaid the sergeant. * Citi- zens, saus culottes, march.” The club of the Cordeliers was held in the old Convent of the Cordeliers, in the street. Observ- ance. Wo wore there almost immediately. As goon as we arrived at the door I tore & leaf from my note-book and wrote a few words on it ; then handing it to the scrgesnt, told him to give it to tho porter on asking for Danton. Mezu . hilo we wero left in the hands of the corporal and the soldiers, The sorgeant entered the club, and came back with Danton. “How!” eaid Danton tome, ‘do thoy arrest oy friend and Corneille's fricnd, one of tha est Republicans thatexist? Letussee.” Then turning to the scrgeant, he eaid : “ Citizen Sergeant, I answer for him; is that sufficient 7" “You answer for him, but do you anawer for her?" sted the sergeant. “Forher? Of whom dufiofl sxmk Cd . “Of this woman, by our Lady " « For him, for her, for any and all he indorses Tindorse. Are you content now 7" “I am content,” eaid tho sergeant; ¢ and above &ll in having seen yon.” 4 AL, mon Dieu/ you could havo this pleasure tis.' Look atme ss much 88 you want, 23 ong 88 you hold me.” ““Thanks! Continue to 88 you have dono the interests of the people, and be tran- quil ; the people will be gme!n?"‘ “Oh, yes; Iam cortainof that,” said Danton. « Will 'you shake hands with me#” continued the sergeant. “1Why not 7 and Danton gave him his hand. “Long live Danton,” cried the sergeant; # Longlive Danton,” cried the patrol. Thon they turned and left, conducted by thoir chief. When a few steps off ‘they turned sgain, and lifting their red capsin the air, cried oncomore: “Long life to Danton.” I was just Faing to thank Danton, when his name was called soveral times from the interior of the club. *‘Danton,” * Danton,"” cried Bev- eral voicos from the tribume. “Pardon, my friend,” said he, holding out his hand, ““allow me toroturn. I gave my right hand to tho sergeant; I will give you tho left, for fear that worthy patriot may have theitch; who knows 2" With these words be re-entered the club. I remained at the door with my unknown compan- ion. “Now, madame,” I said to her, * whero ehall I conduct you? " ¢ Dame, to the house of Mother Ledien. You know I have already gaid ehe was my mother,” she replied, smiling. _ ¢ But where does this Mother Lodieu live 2" # Feron street, No. 24." " “Let us go to No. 24 Feron atreet, to Mother Ledien.” ¥ ‘We walked along without esying & word. By the light of the moon I found my companion was & charming young person of abbut 20 or 22 years, a brunette, with large blue eyes, more spiritoal than melancholy, straight noss, s mischievous mouth, tho testh like pearls, hands of a queen, and feet of & child. this under the costame of the daughter of a laundress. 8till she preserved her aristocratic bearing, so much o that even the sergeant and fiendi guard discovered it. When we reached the door of No. 24, we both stop) and looked =t each other emilingly ; then sho sxid: ¢ What do you wish, my dear Monsieur Al bert #' “ 1 wanted to say to you, my dear Solangs, it is hardly worth the trouble of meeting you to Jeave you 8o soon.” F E ] "beg your pardon s thousand times; if I Pad not met you I wonld have had much greater trouble, for they would have conducted me to the corporal of the -guard, who doubtless would have recogniz Iam nat the dsughter of Mother Ledieu; they would have discovered I wag. an_aristocrat, and most probably have cut my head off,” i * You acknowledge, then, you are an aristo- crit? I acknowledge nothing.” ¢ Come, tell me your name.” Bolange." Jusponsibh for “You know very well, then, the name I gave you by hazard cannot be your name.” “*No matter, Ilike it 8o well Iehall keep it, for you, at least.” “\Yhat need havo you of kcoping any name for me if I shall never aeo yon again " *4T have not said you should not. I only eaid that it is as unnocessary for you to know m) name ns it is for me to know yotirs; I have call ou Albert ; keep this name for me, and I will eop the name of Solange for you.” “Yery well, let it be so. ~Listen to me, So- lange. You have said you nre an aristocrat, and thorefore aro pursucd. You have seen to- night I have friends; I wish for your sake I had morg, Tell where is your father, if you have any & : 't‘ily secrots are my own; my father's are ot.? “"\'Ho wighes to escape pursuit in flight, does henot? Buppose I could nssist 4 You will nse your influence tosid my father’s flight ?" cried Solange, clasping her hands and looking at me with much anxicty. “’If I eave your father will’ you remember mo?” 0B, I wilt bo grateful to yon all my life ; but will my gratitudo be a suflicient recomponse for 20 great a favor?’ ' % 8be pronounced the words with an adarabls oxpreesion of mtidenmd gratituds, I assured ber that her remerm%zznee. monld amply repay me for whatever I could do to serve her father. *Thon I am not deceived ; you Lave a noble heart. I thank youin the name of my fatliar and in my own.” eaid she, in a trembling voico. # When can I gee you again, Bolange 7" *Whenevor it is uecessary.” # To-morrow I hope to bavo something pleas- ant (o tell you.” - *¢ Then let it bo to-morrow."™ ¢ Where " 4 Here, if you wish.” & 1lero, in iho stroet “ Why, by our lady! you sco this is the most secure placa. During tho last half hour we have been hare no one has passed.” *Yon are right, and I will bring youa pass- port under {he name'of Solange.” *Yon_seo Solange.will end by being my own name. You be here at five minutes Eefore 10, d at 10 o'clock I will came out of the door." en, to-morrow, at 10 o'clock, dear So- lange. 4+"To-morrow at 10 o'clock, dear Albert.” 1 was going to kiss her hand, bat sho offored me ber foce. The next evoning at 9:30 1 was at the sppointed placo. At a quartor before 10 Bolango opened the door. We had both ad- vanced on the time agreed upon. I madea bound toward her. “I mes yon have good news,” said she, ing. “Excellont ; but here is Four passport, firat.” €My fathor, firet,” said she, pushing my hand away. “Your father is saved, if he wishes it.”” 3 "?’l’l he wishes it, ssy you? What must he o * Ho must have confidence in me.” “He has already.” . ‘: YD\I,!!!VB seen him ?" “You expoeed yourself 2" 1t was necessary; but God *‘You have told your father “T told him you saved my life yestordsy, and wonld probably save his to-morrow.” “To-morrow; yes, really, to-morrow,.if he wighes it.” “ How can you? What admirable arrange- monts have yon mado to succeed 80 soon " “ One thing you may object to in tte arrange- ments; you cannot accompany him. I maystc- ceed in getting you a pass later.” “Ag for that, I havo alroady made upmy mind it would be impossible for us to escape to- ether,” said she, trying to smilo, “ao fet us k of my fatuer first and mo afterward.” 4 The General, Marceau, has promised tosidns, Eliber has just nominated him General-in~ Chief of the Armyof the East. Ha starts to- morrow evening, and will take your father as his secretary. They will go together to Vendie; there your father will give him his word of honor not to fight against France. Then he will start for England. When he getsto London he will send you word of his arrival and T will get you s pass and send yon to him.” “ My father will be saved to-morrow!” cried Bolange. ““But warned.” 4 How can I warn him at this time of night?” © Yon have your pasa and my arm.” 5 “True; give me my pass; now your arm.” I gavo her my arm, and wo went to the samo #pot where I had met her the evening before. “VWait for mo here,” she =aid, and disap- eared around the corner of the old Hotel Mat-~ ignow. Inabouta quarer of an hour she ro- turned. *“Come,” said she; “‘my father waits to thank ou.” <0t She took me by the arm and condncted me to the street St. Guillamne, in front of the Hotel Mortemart. Then sho took akey from Ler goc'kot and opened a httlo door; thon she con- ucted mo to the second story, and knocked in s particular manner at the door. A man of about forty-eight or fifty years opened the door. He was drossed like a workman and appeared to bea bookbinder by trade. But the firsc words ho spoko in thanking mo botrayod the gentle- man. * Monsieur;” #aid L, “Providence has sent n tous, and I receive you es & measenger of rovidenco. It 80 happens that youcan savo me, and that you wish to save me:” - Ithen told him ali Low Marcean would take him as his secrotary, only exacting a promiso that ho shonld not fight against Frauce. 1 will make this promise to you with all my heart, and I will Tanew it to him."” 47T thank you in hia nazmo and mine,” ?Q'toc(nd me.” he hes mo timeto loso; ho mustbe #When does Marceau stazt 2 4 To-morrow.” “Qught I to go fo his houss to-night 2" “Whenever youwill; he expecta you atany time.” The father and daughter cxchanged glances. 41 think it would be more prudent for 10 go thero this evening, my father,” said fol- ange. : *That may be, but they would arrest me; I have no pass.” 3 “ Heore is mine,” gaid I. “But you ?” *QOh, I am known.” “Whers does Marceau live 2" “Stroet of the University, No. 40, near hia sister, Miss Desgraviers Marceau.” i “Will you sccompany mo ?" ; 54 follow you, to take your daughter home when you go i » “ How will Marconu know that'T am the mezn of whom you spoke 2" “You will givo him this tri-colored cockade; it is the signal agreed upon.” @ Yhat can I do to recompense my savior?” “You can charge me with your daughter's safety, s she did me with yours.” “ Let us start.” He put on his hat and put out the lights, ‘Wo went down stairs by the light of the moon, which shone through the windows on the stair- cage. When he xot to the door, he took Lis daughter's arm and turned to the right, and by the streot of the Baints-Peres, he gained the streot of the University. I followed them tan steps “behind. We met no one. I approached the two and asid, “ Thia is a good sugury ; now do you want me to wait or. o go in with yon 2" ““No, do not compromise yoursolf mors; wait for my daughter here 7" I bowed. ‘' Now, again let me thank you and say adien. Words fail me. I hope God will give me the power some day to prove my gratitude.” I replied by eimply pressing his hand. Tho door opened, he went in, and Bolange followed him. In sbout ten minutes she came out and said: “Your friend is indeed worthy to ba our friend ; that is to ssy, he is fall of delicate ndliness. ' Enowing I would like to stay with my father until the last minute, his sister has invited mo to remain with her. To-mor- row at 3 o'clock my father will bs out of danger; to-morrow at 10 o’clock, if you think the thanks of & dsughter who owes her father’s lifa to you, worth receiviog, come to me at Feron street.” ¢ 1 ghall certainly be there. Did your father send any message i “ He thanks you for your pass, which is here, and p.:lnya you to send mo to 88 500D 28 ssible.” e That shall be whenever you wish, Bolange,” replied I, my heari-Almost bursting. 1t is necessary for me to know where he is flr:}n;" then, emiling, * you are notrid of me el I took her hand and pressed it againstmy heart. Bhe offered me her face to kies as sho had done the evening before. ‘ To-morrow,” esid ehe. In kiseing ber it was not only her hand I pressed to my heart, but her {L\pmung bosom, her bounding heart. I went home with a lighter heart than I ever had before. Waa :it cauzed by the conscionsness of having done a good action? Or was it I was alreadyin love with this adorable creature ? I know not whether I alept or waked : T only know that all the harmonies of nature lived inme. Iknow the night appeared withoat end, the dsy immense ; I know that though I was 80 anxious far the time to coma when 1 should see Bolange, I did not wish to Lurry over s minute of tho happy day I kad to live, The next even- ing I was in tho atreot Foron. At $:30 Solange sppeared. + Bayed,” she cried, My father is saved, and itisto youl owe safoty. Oh! howIloye you." i .| row. Tifteon days after, Solange received s lotter telling her her father had arrived in England. The next day I carried bor a passport ; inreceiv- ng it Solange burst into tears. *Yon do nob ove me, then 2" gaid she. . 5 _“Ilove you more than mylifo, but I have glly_m.\ my word to your father, and I must keop 1 : *Then I will break mine,” said ehe, *if you Davo tlte courage {0 let me go, Albert, Thave not thie courage to go.” :.‘rk;;:! she rcml::il:ed. ce months psesed by most happily; and from that evening thure was novor ngf.‘u’;unn of Bolwfiu'u departure raisel We both tacitly agreod we could not b scparated. Bolango expressed a dosire to have an arartment on the street whero sho had first mot me. I took ono for her under the namo of Solange. ~I did not know hor by any other now, and she always called me Albart. I had persusded her ta enter an institution for young girls in the ca- padity of governess, in ordor to deceive tho de- tectivo police moro surely, for they had bocoma more nctivo than over. Every Sunday sod every Thursday wo passed together in the Litt10 apartment on Taranne strect. The win- dow of tho bed-chamber overlooked the spot' where we first had met, and whero I had rescned Solauge from the hands of tho horriblo sergeant and his_fiendish accomplices. Every day oach recoivod & lottor,—sho undor the name of So~ lange; I under the mamo of Albert, Thesa thres months were the happiest of my life, not- withstanding tho terrible times we were living in. The guillotine ssemed as if it could neves bo satisfled with its victims. On the 4th of Oc- tober the trial of Mario Antoinette began. It continued until tho 14th, then ske was taken be- fore the Revolutionary Tribune; on the 16th, at 1 o'clock in_the morning, she was condemncd ; tho same dey at 11 o'clock, she mounted the sceifold. That moming I received a Jlotter from Bolangs; she wrote sho could not pass such s day alone. 1 arrived abont 2 o'clock at our little aparfmont on ‘Taranno street. I was profoundly affected by this exccution, Oh! how woll I remember thiz day; it was Wodncsday ; there was nothing but sorrow and gloom in all Paris. As for mysolf, X felt a strange presentment of approaching sor~ 1 wished to consolo Solango, who wont in my arms, but words of consolation failed me, for consolation was not in my heart. Wo passed, sa was our custom, the night togethor. Tha night was sadder still than our day. I remember now tho howls of o dog shut up in an apartment Lviue under ours. Tho next day we found out his master hadgono out and takon away the koy; in the stroot he had beon arrosted, taken befora the Tribunal, ien tried and execoted im four hours, I. was now time for us topart. The cless of Solango began at § o'clock. in the morning. 'The school was~ situated near the Jarden des Plantcs. I hesitatod a long tima. about letting her go. Bhecould not make up her mind to leave me, but if she remained awa: she wonld subject herself to inquiries whic would be dangerous to her. I 'called a carriage and conduacted hor to the corner of the stroet Focies 8aint Bernard ; thero I got ont to let her continue hor way alone. Wo never spoke a word during tho whole distance, only sat lacked in each other’s arms ; the tears which flasved from our eyes were vory bitter, but ware swest~ cned by tho kisses which foll from our lips. I descended from the carrisge, but in - place of going on my way, L stood glued to the spot to see as long'as I' could tho carriage which ear-~. ried her away. At sbout twenty steps tha carriago stopped, and Bolango looked ont the - window. Itsecmed asif shebad divined I was still there. I ran to her. I got_ into tha carriage and shut tho windows. I pressed her again and sgain to my heart. Just then 9 o'clock struck from the Church of Baint-Etienno »du Mont. I dried her tears, and closed her month with a triple kiss. I thon leaped to the ground and rushed away. It scomed to me that Solange called me back, bt Iearing that all these tears, all this tender~ ness would be remarked, I had the fatal coursga not to turn back. I wenthome desperste. I fmed the day writing to Solange; that evenin sent her a book almost in 8izo of writing. 1. had just posted my letter when I received hers. Sho said she had been very severely repri- manded for her absence, and her next holiday had been taken from hor, but Bolange swora to me in any cage she wonld ho with mo the fol- lowing Bunday, even if she broke with the mis- tress. I alsoswore it, for it seemod to me X would go crazy if geven days bad to pass with- out my seeing her, Mloreover, Solange said sh wasvory uneasy ok the appearance of a letter from her father, which had .arrived during hew absence ; it looked as if it had been opened. Her father had consented to our union as soon 88 it wonld be safe to. announco olange's namo and rank. I passed a dreadful night and & worse day. I spent the whole morning in vriting to Solange. Toward 8 o'clock I went off fora walk, in the hopo of distracting my thoughts from their gloomy chennel. The days were short, and about 4 o'clock the gloomy twilight began. At the corners of tho streets the heralds cried out the liet of the condemned. Iremember think- ing tho names of the women sud childron vers numerous. The harvestof blood seemed an if it nover could bo gathered. It was almost night before I noticed where I was, and, on lookin, u{l, found I was at the gates of the cemetery of Clamact. I went in, scarcely knowing what I~ did, and sat down on the base of o larga whita ‘monument. Isupposo I must have fallen asloep, for it was after midnight when I was awakened by a sweet, low voice, calling in tones of ths most pitifal ontroaty, * Albert, Albort, Albert.” There was but one person in the whole world who called me thus: I started, waked, and locked arsund me ; it seemed to mo I was sur- rounded by a heavy mist or white cloud, when suddenly. . sew just befora me the head of Solango, all drippiog with_blood. The pale lips opened, and again I heard that pleasing voico, * snd sgain I hoard * Albert,” ropeated three times. Iteeemed for & fow minutos my head would bunit with the prossure on it; then all gradually faded sway, znd I was left alone with my gloomy surronnd- inga. Ileaped to my feet, and rushed like a maniac to the echool whero Solange taught; there I learned she had been recognized by the letter from her father, cflndm:be(flz the rovola~ ticnary Tribune; tried and condemned {he same. day. It wos most probable that her desr name waa being called as I passed that dreadfal herald, fit repreecntative of the bloody tribunal. It was ‘months before I recovered from the shock to my nervous system, and 1 expect to carry throuzh life the aching void irr my Lieart by ber untimely end. But God is good, and eternity is long. We shall eurely moet sgain. HAUNTED. What hias been done i the alden time In this chamber dim and low? Was it a deed of guilt or crime, A hidden wrong or stealthly blow, That i acted sgain at midnight’s chiime, With ciangor of wail and woo? Ab! whoshalltell? Not the pallid walls, Or tho dusky lattice pane, Tle bat that iita aa the lnst stroke falls, Or the panel's crimon atain Whero the tapestry waves in phantom palis Alive with weird forms again Bot sure as ever the hour comea round, A beavineas chill tho air, ‘The rustle of silk and 3 footstep's sound. Are heard on the creaking stair, While moving past o'er the echolng ground, A presence unseen i thero. #Let me {n 1" 4t slways plesds and moans, et mo a1 the same cry goce: Jut 10 answer comes, save grosng Ot s o ta morial throes, - o8 Then it sobs and dies away, whils its tonss Ring out on the dread repose. Eadly, wearily, downward it wends To he spot. from whence it came ; Thank Heaven! with daylight the glamor ends This hotror without a Dame, That lf the warm life-biood quivering sends Like fca trough the thrilling fraze, —Belgaria, ¢ Agony ‘Advertiseraents.” The second column of the first sheet of the London Timesis devoted to what are known in England as "qfnny" advertisements, 1. ¢., toad- vertisements of very seusational import. Th following is & group which appeared in an_edi- tion of that paper yecontly to hand: *Poor Kit's hesrt is broken. He will'die if you do not writa with your own hand by postto him. He haa written often and fally won, and told you ‘much 20 one elsa likes to tell you. Ho hald up till hegot ahint thewholo might bea Eoar. ‘Then ho laid down all hops and life. Never s letter from dear, crusl” “Fidele a diort., Jan- uary 25, October 18. Godbless and preserve you. Ican bearall as long s you kaep well. “Wa may yet havo need of all our stren, and trust in each other. Should years go by, you will find my love for you but truer .nS truer. life's happiness is m{mu' hands, and I feel happier for any sacrifice I can make for you. Every day ehall b spent in trying to be- better for your eako, and in doing what yon ask of me. What- ever happens, you are certain of my being yours forever. X.” "““My ever dearest Ellen: Still dotho fond children hourly cry for mamma. Will you not cherish them in your heartof hearta? Oh, think of your'dear little bale—of them all.~ For God's ‘sake return. All is for- given—no recriminations. Once agein, for the #ake of past remembrances, come and make bappy our bome. Be wisoand affectionste ss ever you were. I promiso to mako tho reduction inmy establishment that you wish. Corsider bow long wehave been togather, Eyer allec t telyvgpra P PRI I -