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your absence will give much advantage to rivals at home, although they take advantage of it. I believe she is deliberately turning coquette, for the sake of sending recruits to the regiment. She has so excited and flattered five of your old rivals that they have just gone with a squad of thirty-seven. Any one who is fit for a soldier may gain her attention now; but if he does not soon volunteer, he loses hope. In short, and in confidence, she is determined to keep the regiment full. She and I have made up a little parcel for George, which will be delivered by William Deane, one of the volunteers just gone.

"As you must have expected, Shoddy Peabody has been attentive to Ellen, and seems to have almost assurance of success, if one may judge by his unwonted liberality. He has given a hundred dollars to one, and two hundred to another, to induce them to volunteer. This is duly reported to Ellen, and she praises him for it. He sees it is the way to keep in her favor. If he would go himself, and expose his own life in battle, I believe she might admire him; but you know her tastes.""

"Jones, shall we be jealous of Shoddy?"

"No; I advise not. It is agreed between us that every woman ought to have her choice; and if she prefers him, now that he has become a millionnaire, it would not be honest to wish that she should not have him. What can either of us give her, in the way of a home, to compare with what he will be glad to give her? In a prudential view, she would be advised to prefer him. You and I may return maimed, or broken in health, and be a burden on her kindness, if she prefers either of us."

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Ha, ha, ha! Tom, you preach divinely. I believe your doctrine, and God forbid that I should repine if compelled to practise it; but I am not in the least jealous or apprehensive of Peabody's success, and I doubt if I should have been, had you not fortified me with your wholesome counsel. Lend me your ringlet; lay it by mine. It is a comfort o look at them. I have been cheered

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by one of them when I had some fears of dying. Now, - you needn't smile, — if you leave them together, I shall get well the sooner. Ha, ha, ha! Tom, you're the only man I am jealous of; and, to comfort you, if your brother-in-law is killed, which I pray may not be, and both of us return, and your sister will endure me, I don't know but I shall put an end to Ellen's indecision; and then you will be the happiest fellow in the world, perhaps I ought to except myself. Tell your sister her letter has given me comfort, and I thank her for the parcel, whatever it contains."

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Well, I'll tell her. Go to sleep, if you can! I'll write, before it is dark. Where's the pen? All right!"

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Sleep! I prefer to meditate on the ringlets. I wont disturb you."

Next day, Jones was unanimously chosen captain, and Loidley first lieutenant. The second lieutenant resigned, on account of his health. His place was filled by a favorite sergeant; and the choice of the men was approved by the superior officers. Loidley was sent away with the sick, much against his wish; but he was found able to join, when the army was on its way to Maryland. The company soon acquired superior efficiency, and the regiment was distinguished in the battles that drove the rebels back into Virginia. Not to give a history of the war, it may be said that the rival friends are now brigadiers.

Shoddy Peabody has "gone up" long ago. He spread too largely, couldn't meet his paper, and his creditors came down upon him without mercy. But he wouldn't give up, that is, his interest in Miss Worrener had become so strong that he followed the example of her other lovers, whose gallantry she praised with a feeling that showed him the only way to her heart. Some time since, he raised sixty men for the regiment, and marched at their head to the seat of war; but took his place in the ranks when they arrived, only requesting that he might be promoted when he became capable of some command. He has become a lieutenant, and is a resolute and good officer.

It is but just to say that the brigadiers treat him with great respect and kind

ness.

Shoddy's rival in manufacture, a canny Scotchman, who could not get a contract while he was in the field, gets all he can execute since he is in another field. He did all he could to break him down, both in his business and his affections. Meeting Miss Worrener one day in a walk, he saluted her and offered a newspaper that had just arrived and contained news of her friends. Shoddy then was in full bloom, and it was gossiped that his diamonds were to be displayed on Miss Worrener. The serene old Scot was determined to do all he could to prevent it.

"You know these callants, my dear young leddy, I've been told. Weel, they are an honor to the country and the regiment they went in and the brigades they have fairly got command of. They are to be envied by the spiritless fellows that stay at home attending to their business, —that is, to cheating people. Here's Peabody, that's got rich by making cloth out o' second-hand wool that's rotten as paper. A man that makes cloth out of any but new wool, especially for soldier's clothing, is a rank traitor. Pardon me for advising ye; but I raally think ye do wrong to notice such a fellow."

"Oh, pardon you! It would better become me to thank you for your counsel,

which I am sure is sincere. But Mr. Peabody is doing something for the good cause; he has helped many to volunteer who had pecuniary obligations that hindered them. You would not have me displease a man who is so patriotic."

If he were patriotic, no; but he is only politic. He hasn't helped a fellow that wasn't in his way at home."

"How so?"

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to the defence of their country from purely patriotic motives; and why should I doubt that his motives in assisting them are otherwise?"

"Did ye ever hear of his assisting any other? There was the poor chap, Davis, who would make a good soldier, wanted him to give his wife a dollar and a half a week until he could send his pay; but he wouldn't. I fear ye're some partial to him, or ye wouldn't be so blind. But if ye know what is for yere good, ye'll be thinking more o' the callant lads that showed their patriotism by going as common volunteers, when they ought to have been captains, at least."

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My dear sir, I ask a favor. Do not say more on this rather delicate subject. I have no thought of the private interests you allude to, until higher interests are set at rest. As for Mr. Peabody, I must continue to treat him with neighborly respect, and not to question his motives while his actions are beneficial to the country. You do not call to see my father as often as you used to."

"Weel, no; but it's nae because I have the less regard and good-will for him. Tell him ye met me, and gie him my compliments. Ye'll forgive me for talking as I did?”

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I have no right to be dissatisfied. Certainly, I can't presume to doubt your good intentions."

"Weel, good-morning. Ye'll take this paper?"

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"I fear I shall deprive you of news." "Not at all. I've read all that I usually read.

"Hoot! hoot!" said the old Scot, as soon as the young lady had gone; "the gossips overleap the facts. The girl is nae more in love with the fellow than I am. I don't wonder if she is using him as a recruiter. She's a brave girl.”

Hope is a main-stay of resolution, as you may find if you read Campbell. Which of all the lovers of this village belle will win her favor the gossips do not know; but reports from the army indicate that they all mean to deserve it. They go on the track of the two first in the field of honor; they are studious, in

dustrious, sober, and never neglect the duties of the humblest rank from a consideration that they merit higher rank. Such men will be efficient, and when different men have shown that efficiency is wanted in officers, they will rise. Time will show; and when the war is ended, another sketch may inform the reader what has become of this fascinating village belle and her knightly lovers.

Meantime, she perseveres in the good cause, and many are the' tokens of remembrance and interest that she sends to the sick and wounded of the county regiment. Her recruiting is less successful; but still she gently manages to stir the sleepy patriotism of those who reserve themselves for the final struggle. Joseph Goodwin has long resisted her indirect influence his heroic sentiments. upon One evening, on his way home, a gossip behind him heard him soliloquize.

"She can't come it! Confound her! It is a pretty return for a fellow's affection to send him where he may be shot like a common loafer. No! no! she can't come it! Let her try! that will give me a chance to try! Faint heart ne'er won fair lady! Don't let your courage fail at the first denial, but always make a second and third trial! Women naturally want husbands; I'm a splendid fellow; why shouldn't she take a frog, by and by? It's a good bait for both of us, anyhow!"

Is his diplomacy likely to succeed? That is in the future. At present, it is safe to say, "We doubt."

DID it never occur to you, as a remarkable fact, that of the great number who profess to believe the doctrine of endless misery, so few seem to be at all touched by it, or to have the slightest interest in complying with what it discloses, and what they, themselves, affirm to be the condition of salvation?

SEND your son into the world with a good temper, good principles, a good edu-. cation, and habits of industry and order, and he will work his way.

THE FIRESIDE ANGEL.

By M. C. P.

GENTLY are the shadows falling; Nature's children seek their rest; And the weary sun, descending, Shows his broad face in the west.

Softly come the moonbeams peeping
Through the sunset's golden bars;
And the angels, up in heaven,
Light their tapers by the stars.

I am thinking, as I sit here
In the flickering firelight's glow,
How the faces of the children
Looked and smiled long years ago.

Joyous hearts and sunny faces

Met around the fireside's blaze; Mirth and gayety and laughter

Mingled in our childish plays.

Broader, thicker grow the shadows;

Twilight deepens into gloom ; But I know that close beside us Sits an angel in the room,

With a robe of shining brightness,
With a halo round the face;
And the glory of his presence
Sanctifieth all the place.

Nestle closer, child, and listen!

Draw the little cricket near; And I'll tell thee why, at even, Thus the angel sitteth here!

Once I had a little brother,

He was young and fair and mild, Full of childish mirth and gladness; And I, also, was a child.

All day long, we used to wander

'Neath the spreading chestnut tree ; Never yet lived any children

Half as happily as we.

And we knew each nook and corner
Where the early violets grew,
Or the white flowers of the hawthorn
From the hedge peeped faintly through.

O'er his grave, beneath the hawthorn,
Now the wild vines softly creep;
It is fourteen years this autumn
Since our Willie fell asleep.

In the sunny autumn season,

On a bright September day, Came God's angel to our hearthstone, Calling our beloved away.

When the cottage-door stood open,
When the corn was in the ear,
And the harvest-song of reapers
In the fields was sweet to hear,

Gently resting on the threshold

Where he ne'er had stood before, Folding his white wings about him, Was God's angel at our door.

Day by day he watched our Willie, Till his wasting form grew weak, And the crimson flush of fever Redly burned upon his cheek.

Then I knew that in the meadows,
In the green and shady lane,
Underneath the spreading chestnuts,
He would never play again.

Soft he spake in silvery accents,— "God is good; he knoweth best ; In that country of the angels,

He will make me pure and blest.

"There are rich and smiling pastures,
Valleys green and pearly streams;
And the angels walk among them;
I have seen them, in my dreams.

"And the sunshine on the hillsides
Has a very pleasant look ;
And the flowers are white and larger
Than the lilies by the brook.

“I am going there; but, sister, When the stars come forth to view, By their calm and peaceful beaming, I will come again to you.

"With the holy love of angels,

I will gently hover near ; Though you do not see my presence, You shall feel that I am here."

So, my child, I love the twilight; Well I like its softened gloom; For I know that then, beside me, Sits an angel in the room.

This is all; the story ended; Plain and clear the moral is:

Strive in all things to be holy ! Win a harp and crown like his !

In the world that lies before thee,
Keep thy spirit undefiled!
God shall guard thee from the evil;
Heaven bless thee, gentle child !

A DIFFICULT QUESTION ANSWERED. "CAN any one," says Fanny Fern, "tell me why, when Eve was manufactured from one of Abam's ribs, a hired girl was not made at the same time to wait on her?" We can, easy: Because Adam never came whining to Eve with a ragged stocking to be darned, a collar-string to be sewed on, or a glove to mend " "right away, quick now!" Because he never read the newspaper until the sun got down behind the palm-trees, and then stretching himself out, yawned out, "Aint supper 'most ready, my dear?" Not he! He made the fire and hung the kettle over it himself, we'll venture -and pulled the radishes, peeled the potatoes, and did everything else he ought to. He milked the cows, fed the chickens, and looked after the pigs himself. He never brought home half a dozen friends to dinner when Eve hadn't any fresh pomegranates, and the mango season was over! He never stayed out till eleven o'clock to a "ward meeting," hurrahing for an out-and-out candidate, and then scolded because poor Eve was sitting up and crying inside the gates. He never played billiards, rolled ten-pins, and drove fast horses, nor choked Eve with cigar-smoke. He never loafed around corner groceries, while Eve was rocking little Cain's cradle at home. In short, he didn't think she was especially created for the purpose of waiting on him, and wasn't under the impression that it disgraced a man to lighten a wife's cares a little. That's the reason that Eve did not need a hired girl, and with it is descendants the reason that her fair

did.

To be able to bear provocation is an argument of great wisdom, and to forgive it, of a great mind.

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TWILIGHT was fast deepening into darkness, the black shadows cast by the mountains down the deep ravine looking ominous and threatening, as Carleton and his companions fairly entered on their unknown way out. The travelling was difficult and slow, the dense undergrowth of rank shrubs and huge tangled vines obstructing their feet at every step, until, finally, they were obliged to take to the stream itself, the boulders and pebbles which thickly bedded it affording, while the light was sufficient to discern them, not insecure footing. In this way, they went on for a while pretty rapidly, sometimes leaping from one stone to another, sometimes finding the water-worn pebbles rolling under their feet, but on the whole, getting on much better than when forcing their way through the jungle. It soon became evident, however, that this course could not be long pursued, so rapidly the obscurity increased, while to attempt to continue their passage through the thicket after the darkness should be complete, was equally impossible. The ravine might stretch for miles, and hours still be required before they should reach its out

let.

"We must find a camping-place for the night, and that immediately," said Carleton, as, balancing himself on a huge boulder, he paused to look around. "This work is fearful, and we are all worn out and must rest somehow. There is no probability of getting out of this ravine, which is very nearly as frightful as the underground chasms, before we have light to guide us. It is now nearly dark, and will soon be entirely so; and darkness in this chasm, five hundred feet deep, will be no trifle."

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reached out his hand, that the pedler's was cold and clammy. "This torrent is so swift it chills the air rapidly. We will try to find some hollow in the rocks to shelter us. Come," he continued, turning sharply round toward the mountainside, maybe we shall find it easier getting on nearer the rocks. It can't be that the fellows who harbor in the last cave reach it by the exhausting path we have been following. They must have some easier way, or they would never go there. Keep up good heart," said he, kindly, endeavoring to help the pedler, who really appeared unable to go a step further; "over through this jungle, we shall be all right.'

"I hope so; for I cannot go much further to-night."

"Le' me go fur'd, sar," said Josh, touched with the plaintive voice of the pedler. "I tink I soon fine some place to res' yer poor bones. De good Lord aint a kine o' pusson to leab us in dis yere sort o' way. Arter all he gone done fur us dis day, I aint a gwine to 'spect him o' de mean trick o' 'sakin' us now. No, sar! he'll deliber us, I tells yer."

The way seemed to grow worse instead of better; but, inspired by his strong faith, the negro pushed his way, like a monstrous wedge driven by a beetle, through the solid wall of undergrowth, Carleton and his companion following so closely as to avail themselves of the opening thus made, until very soon they saw that the way was less obstructed and less dark, and in another minute, they emerged upon a broad, flat rock, several rods in area, and nearly as level as a floor. Its upper side, which was reached by a slight ascent, was completely sheltered by an overhanging roof of rock, forming indeed a shallow but perfectly dry cavern.

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Dar, sar, didn't I tell yer so?" exclaimed the negro, triumphantly. "Didn't dis yere darkey tell yer, all 'long, dat de Lord wud tak car on us? And hasn't he bin and gone and dun it? Whar'll yer fine a more comfortabler kine o' house dan dis yere? Lors, massa!" he continued, turning to the pedler, who had sunk, exhausted, on the rock, "yer'll soon hab better bed dan dat ar, I kin tell yer,

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