Soldiers' record, 1869-12-18

              OKJBJ FLAG, OKI] LAN-J), Om IIBABT, ONB EAKD, OM JfATIO^, JUVEBMORE!
yoL. I I. HAKTFORD, OOM., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1869. NO. 24.
Ijoiirs at iomc.
THE HIVE AT GETTYSBURG.
BY JOHN O. WHITTIEU.
Ill the old Hebrew myth the lion's frame,
So terrible alive,
Bleached by the desert's sun and wind, bccame
The wandering wikl beos' hive;
And he who, lone and naked-liandod, tore
Those jaws of (katU opart,
In after time drew forth their honeyed store
To strengthen his strong heart.
Dead seemed the legend ; but it only slept
To wake beneatli our sky ;
Jnst on tiie spot whence ravening Treason c;ept
Back to its lair to die,
Bleeding iind torn from Freedom's mountaui
bounds,
A stained and sliattered drum
Is now the hive, where on their tlowery rounds,
The wild bees go and come.
Unchallenged by a ghostly sentinel,
They wander wide and far.
Along green liillsides, sown with shot and shell,
Through rales once choked with war.
The low reveille of tiieir battle drum
Disturbs no morning prayer ;
Witii deeper peace in summer noons their hum
Fills all the drowsy air.
And Samson's riddle is our own to-day.
Of sweetness from the strong.
Of union, peace, and freedom plucked away
From'tiie rent jaws of wrong.
Trom Treason's deatii we draw a purer life,
As, from the beast lie slew,
A sweetnees sweeter for his bitter strife
The old time athlete drew !
POLLY'S E A B B I T S .
It was quite preposterous in Polly to
have the warreu below the spring-house
fronting upon the high road, because it
was too far oif. Suppose oue o. the rab-bits
had been taken' ill at night, who
would have cared about getting out of' a
snug bod to go that distance to its aid ?
For°my part, I think if even thieves had
been about to take away the pets after I
had gone to sleep, no outcry in the world
could have induced me—even supposing
1 had permitted myself lo be awakened—
to do anything more than make demon-straiions
in my night-dress at the win-dow.
But that is a mere matter of taste.
Polly, no doubt, would have got up and
gone out upon the lawn in her bare feet
to scream murder ; and, it may be, would
have laid down her life in a violent de-fense.
The rabbits had been domiciled in their
ridiculous dwelling three weeks. Polly
was feeding them in the morning before
breiikfiist—setting before them nothing
better than cabbage, which they enjoyed
most in its green state—and the sun was
speckling her pretty little face, when a
young man came up the road, whistling
and nourishing an ash stick. This young
man was a dashiivg sort of a person, with
great gray eyes and rather handsun\e
brown curls ; and when Polly saw him
and he saw Polly, they both laughed and
blusiied.
"1 am getting very jealous, Polly, of
these rabbits."
"Oh, my lord ! beware of jealousy ; it
is the green-eyed monster that doth make
the incut it feeds on," said Polly, in quite
a tragic voice.
"No doubt it is a most unpleasant an-imal
; and, for myself, 1 hope th-it neither
of us may ever become a violent prey to
it. Do you think you could be induced
to do anything purticularly desperate if
you grew jealous, Polly ?"
"1 should be too proud, I believe," re-plied
the young lady ; 'unless it were in
the matter ot my rabbits. Oh, Algie, I
do love them so ! It would kill me to
lose thorn—or to fancy that they cared
nothing more for me."
"But," continued Algie, "suppose you
were to grow jealous of me ?"
I'olly laughed most cheerily. "Oh,
Algie, you couldn't make me jealous. If
I were to lose you I would center my en-tire
allcction upon my rabbits."
"Indeed ! Well, I must be off, Polly.
I have stopped hero too long already
What a syren you are to draw a man
from his duty !" So saying, he caught
up his stick again, and passed on, whist-ling-
V
Polly fed her rabbits every mornmg a-bout
breakfast time, and Algie fed them
on his road home every evening, near
supper. They were not gormandizing
rabbits, but very well bred and genteel.
If they had any fault it was their taste
for green cabbage. However, they say
Henry V. used to drink small beer, and
he was a prince ; and if a prince can be
fond of beer, I think it is surely no harm
in a rabbit to be fond of cabbage.
And Polly and Algie always met. How
they did love each other ! One day Pol-ly
said : "How smoothly our course of
true love runs 1" "Yes," replied Algie,
who was a little despondent occasionally,
as all engaged gentlemen are apt to be ;
"but will it be always so V
So it certainly was until the evening
that Sarah Jane Prinkey called. Sarah
Jane was a very vivacious young lady,
dressed all in green, and usually served
as the local newspaper.
"Now, my dear Polly," said she "let
me say one word-—one good word—for
Dr. Algie Towers : his practice is increas-ing
every day. I hear his name where-ever
I go."
Polly blushed at this mention of her
lover's success, but said nothing.
"He is 50 handsome—isn't he, Polly ?"
continued Miss Prinkey. "And, by the
way, if 1 tell you something, don't men-tion
it for the world. Old Mrs. Griddles
would kill me if she knew I told such a
thing 1 Please don't let her find out that
I have breathed of a syllable, because I
haven't, except to Kate Southron, Ella
White, and John Arthur's wife—and old
Mrs. Twopenny, down by the marshes—
and one or two others, including you.
Dr. Algie is thinking about getting mar-ried—
in fact, he's engaged."
"Indeed !'' exclaimed Polly, surprised
out of her prudence.
then ! She hastened to her room, and
wrote this answer to Algie's note :
"Oh, Algie ! I have wronged you.
Meet me iu the old spot this evening, at
six."
He was there. She went up to him
with tears of joy in her eyes, and gave
him her hand.
"I was jealous, Algie," she said ; ar\d
then she told him all.
"You dear, little, silly puss !" exclaim-ed
Algie. "Did you not tell me once that
\'ou could never be jealo^is, except of
your rabbits ? Hy the way, who has been
feeding them these last two weeks ?"
"Haven't you ?" she asked, quickly.
"No."
They went over to the warren silently,
and peeped in. The rabbits were dead !
THE GOLDEN" SIDE.
There is many a rest on the road of life.
It we only would stop lo take it;
And many a ione from tlic hotter land.
If the querulous lieart would iniike it.
To the sunny soul that is full of hope,
And whose beautiful trust ne'er laileth,
Tlie grass is green and the flowers are bright.
Though the wintry storm prevaileth.
Better to hope though clouds hang low.
And to keep the eyes still lifted ;
For tlie sweet blue sky will soon peep through,
When the ominous clouds are rifted !
Tliere was never a night without a day,
Or an evening without a morning ;
And the darkest hour as the proverb goes.
Is the hour before the dawning.
There is many a gem in the path of life,
Which wo pass iu our idle pleasure.
That is richer far than tlie jeweled crown,
Or the miser's hoarded treasure;
It may be the love of a little child.
Or a mother's prayer to Heaven,
Or only a beggars grateful thanks
For a cup of water given.
Better to weave in the web of life '
A bright and golden, filling,
And to God's will with a ready heart,
And hands that are swift and willing,
Than to snap the delicate, minuto threads
Of uur crimson life asunder.
And then blame heaven for the tangled ends,
And sit and grieve and wonder.
pinoss, nut only of satisfying the ever-nnfoiding
needs of their own natures,
utof all mit)isteriiig also to those of all
others who come within the sphere of
their influpiice.
"Fact, I assure you! He has been
seen walking with a lady up from Gres-ham,
and paying her the most devoted at-tention.
Nobody knows who she is, and
1 can't find out for the life of me, because
she is always closely vailed j but the Doc-tor
and she go arm-in-arm, and, in short,
it's a settled thing."
Ah, poor Polly ! She sat quiet enough
during the rest of that interview.
On the next morning she went out to
feed the rabbit;s as usual, and presently
along came Algie.
"My little Sunbeam !" cried he, picking
his way across the road.
But the little Sunbeam instantly fled.
Algie wondered and passed on.
"Oh, Algie, Algie, I have loved you
so!" sobbed poor Polly, in the silence of
her room "But I will never see you a-gain.
. My heart may break, but I shall
at least feel that pride broke it."
So she went down to the road in the
mornings no more. Her mother asked
her why she neglected her rabbits.
"They're not neglected, mamma. Al-gie
Towers feeds them. He has asked
me to let him do it for a week, on a wa-ger."
This, you see, was a fib ; but only one
of the whitest. It had been Algio's hab-it
to feed them in the evenings.
Soon Algie wrote:
"What i^the matter, darling ? I wish
to see you."
Jiut she would not see him.
Two weeks went by. Poor Polly grew
thinner and thinner, and ate nothing, and
was thought to bo going into coUbUinp-tion.
At last her mother said: "Child, you
must take exercise. You will die."
"There is no danger, inamma."
"But tliere is danger. One o.'" Algie
Tower's patents from (iresham died with
consumption only yesterday. He attend-ed
her every day, even walking out with
her J but it was useless."
Y(ju should have beheld Polly's face
GOLDEIS; GLEAI^INGS.
A beautiful eye ra ikes silence eloquent,
a kind eye makes contradiction an assent,
an enraged eye makes beauty ueformed.
No thought is beautiful wliich is not
just, and no thought can be just which is
not founded in truth, or, at.least, that
which passes for such.
Dope is the last lingering light of the
human heart. It shines when every oth-er
is put out. Extinguish it and the gloom
of ailliction becomes the very blackness
of darknes.s—cheerless and impenetrai)le.
Men's lives should be like the days,
more beautiful in the evening; or like the
season—the spring aglow wir.h promise,
and the autumn rich with golden sheaves,
where good words and deeds have ripen-ed
on the field.
Little matters of daily occurrence are
of great-'r importance in social life than
great matters of rare occurrence; and per-sonal
behavior in trifles is, perhaps, more
than anything else, productive of the
greatest amount of social and domestic
pleasure and pain.
Poi'ty years once seemed a long and
weary pilgrimage to tread. It now seems
but a step. And yet along the way are
broken shrines, where a thousand hopes
have wasted into ashes ; footprints sacred
under their drifting dust; green mounds,
where gras.s is fresh with watering of
tears ; shadows oven which we could not
forget. We will garner the siunshiue of
those years, and, with chastened step and
heavenward hope, push on towara the
evening, whose signal lights will soon bo
seen swinging where the waters are still
and the storms never beat.
True happiness does not Imply satisfac-tion,
but continual development. The
student loves knowledge for its own sake,
and can never cease acquiring ; and when
men love goodness and truth for their
own sake, they shall have the untold hap-
JOURN^ALISTIO INELUEXGE.
I am a little at a loss (1 used to be great
at a loss when I played poker, and there-lore
abandoned the game, years and years
ago) to know what to Avrite about. I
have a conscience—a patent, metropoli-tan,
journalistic conscience—and, there-fore,
dare not write anything that is not
strictly true. I was not always thus
careful; but a year or two ago T had an
awful warning, and since then have never
ventured to let my iniagiiiaiion lead me
into exaggeralion.
It happened in this way. I was an as-sociate
editor on the staff of one of our
New York papers, and there one day
came a necessity for me to write a para-gTaph
of about a stickful in length, in a
little less than no lime at all. The
weather being intensely cold, my mental
laculties were active only in the direc-tion
of forcible denunciation of the cli-mate.
My mind thus running on the Sub-ject
of cold weather, I wrote a few lines
stating that the Gulf stream had retired
from the coast, and that there was every
reason to believe that in course of two
years at farthest. New York would be
considered colder than Greenland.
Mark what followed, and then doubt,
if you can, tlu influence of the pi-ess.
'J'hat paragraph was gravely copied Jail
over the country, and in about three
weeks afterward two sea captains came
into port and announced that they had
found the Gulf stream nearly two hun-dred
miles to the eastward of its usual
course.
The confounded current had actually
taken me at my word, and had really
changed its course. I repented bitterly
of my rashuvjss, and began to look forward
to the cheerful prospect of freezing to
death amid the curses of my congealing
friends, when some other fellow came
out in another paper with the statement
that the Gulf stream had approached near-er
than ever to our shores, and tha^
henceforth our climate was to become
trop.cal in point of heat. I don't believe
he had any more authority for his stnte-nient
than I had for mine, but somehow
more sea captains opporiunely came into
port and confirmed his statement. Since
then the climate harVemaiued just as
disagreeable a.s it always has been, but
1 have never dared lo allude to the Gulf
stream from that day to this, and have,
moreover, registered as a vow never to
write anything that is not strictly and
literallv true.
ADVICE GRATIS.
Hot water is a simple remedy for the
aching of the fingers to which composi-tors
are liable, and wliich is often the
piecursor of felons. It is to be used in
this way : When the finger uches, or the
motions of the joints become painful, pro-cure
a bowlful of/ioMvater, and plunge
the finger into it. You'll withdraw it
quickly enough without ilire'ction. As
soon as ])ossiblo, plunge the finger in a-gain,
and again, and so continue until
you are able to keep it in the water until
that cools. The finger now prese.its the
appearance of be'ng parboiled. It should
bewraj)pedup loosely. If the applica-tion
is made in the evening, the soreness
will, in many cases, bo gone in the morn-ing,
If only partial relief is obtained, a
second application shouM f)e made in the
morning, and the fingers should bo allow-ed
a day's rest from composition,
it is not pretended that this is a cure
for a felon that has developed itself, but
we are well satisfied that we have several
times avoided that most painful allection,
and possibly saved a finger, by pi-omptly
using/w^ water iu the manner above de-scribed.