Soldiers' record, 1870-01-01 [misdated as 1869-01-01]

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ONH FLAG, ONE LAND, ONE EE ART, ONE HAND, ONE NATION, EYEmiORE!
YOL. I I. HAETEORD, COW., SATUEDAY, JAKUAEY 1, 1869. ^ O . 26.
I ) o u r s a
PSALM FOB THE NEW YEAE.
BY MISS MUI.OCir.
A friend sfcands at tlio door;
In either tight closed band
Hiding ricli gifts, throe hntidrod and three score;
Waiting to strew them daily o'er the land,
Even as seed the sower.
Each drops he, treads it in and passes by ;
It cannot bo made fruitful till it die.
O good Now Year, wo cl isp _
This warm shut hand of thine,
Loosing I'orover, with half sigh, half gasp,
That which from ours falls like dead lingers'
twine;
Ay, whether liorce its grasp.
Has been or gentle, having been, wo know
That it was blessed: let the Old Year go.
0 New Year, teach us faith!
The road of liie is hard :
When our Icot bleed, and scourging winds us
scatlie.
Point thou to liim whose visage was more marred
Than any man's: who saith
"Make straight paths for your feet"—and to the
opprest—
"Come to me, and I will give you rest."
Yet hang some hinip-liko hope;
Above this unknown way.
Kind year, to give our spirits freer scope
And our hands strength to work while it is day.
But if that way must slope
Tombward, 0 bruig before our fading eyes
The lamp of life, the Hope that never dies.
Comfort our souls with l o v e -
Love of all liuinan kind ;
Love special, close—in which like sheltered dove,
Each weary heart its own safe rest may liud ;
And love tluit turns above
Adoringly; contented to resign
All loves, if need be, for the Love Divine.
Friend, come thou like a friend,
And wlioDlier bright thy face.
Or dim with clouds we cannot comprehend.
We'll hold out patient bands, each in bis place,
And trust, thee to the end.
Knowing thou leadest onward to those spheres
Where there are neither days uor mouths uor
years.
JANET'S NEW-YEvvE.
JANET ARBUTHNOT put by the little
frock she had been striving- so hard to liin-ish.
"It is almost dark," she said, glancing
toward the window with a little, shudder-ing
sigh. "I suppose I shall have to go,
mother."
"I suppose so, dear," replied the inva-lid,
raising herself to a sitting posture ;
"But they might have spared you to me to-night."
"Yes, mother ; but Mrs. Draper thought
they would never get on with the dresses
for the tableaux without my help."
"And my new iVock, Janet," piped a
curly-headed little thing from the corner,
'who will finish that V
"Never fear, Alien," replied the sister,
pleasantly. "1 shall beat homo bright
and early tu-morrow, and you shall have
it in good time."
Rare and brilliant perns they were, most
daintily set, and looking strangely out of
place ill that humble, little chamber. Janet
held them tenderly, pressing them cares-singly
to her lips, and letting them slip
through her lingers like a stream of liv-ing
light. There was a spray of heliotrope
in the bottom of the casket, and its sweet,
subtile odor filled the little chamber like
the breath of incense; and with that
strange power which odors alone possess,
carried the heart of the sad-faced gover-ness
away back to the dewy dawn of her
girlhood.
Only five years ago, and this, self-same
Janet liad been the daughter of a wealthy
and indulgent father, with every comfort
and luxury at her command, and crowds
of suitors at her feet. But only one of
all these met with tiny favor from the shy,
little beauty ; and he was in every respect
worthy of her. On the eve of a voyage
to Calcutta, he had made his declaration,
and been accepted ;fmd the string of em-eralds
had been his betrothal gift.
For months after his departure, Janet
lived m a dream of bliss, and then the
great trouble of her life came. Her father,
who held a high position in the mercantile
world, failed utterly, and iipding himself
a beggar, died of a broken heart Then
their beautiful dwelling, ond everything
went, and his poor wife sank into despair-ing
helplessness ; and there was no one
left to breast the bitter, bitter storm but
pretty little Janet.
Bravely enough she did it, for the girl
was a hero, despite her slender form and
lily face. She. l emoved her invalid moth-er
and little sister to a city far distant
from the scene of their recent troubles,
procured humble lodgings, and then cast
about her for employment. With much
difficulty, she obtained a situation as gov-erness,
a position for which her line edu-cation
and natural abilities rendered her
eminently qualified. "^I'hus the years wore
on, Janet hearing nothing from her lov-er.
He was probably, dead, she thought:
or he might have heard ofhor lather's
failure, and resolved to quietly ignore her.
rihe did not know, and she was too proud
to inquire.
Now, standing there in the gathering
gloom, with the rush and roar of the great
city in her ears, she asked herself, "Why
aot sell the emeralds ?" They would
bring a good price, enough to make her
poor mother and little Alice comfortable
through many a dreary month. And yet
she could hardly bring herself to part
from them. They were the one link that
bound her to the happy past. The shad-ows
thickened round her, and the dreamy
odor of the heliotrope wrapt her, like a
"But what's the use," contuiued the i tran, c,e ,- in ,m, emories of the long- -arg o. i .She
child, petulantly. "1 mic;;ht as well have could see the green, summer-garden, hear
would be too late. And after all, perhaps,
Mrs. Draper might let her have p.irt of
her monthly pay, and she would not be
forced to sell her emeralds ju^t yet. Glad
of any pretext or excuse for keeping her
precious gems, she hurried from the shop;
but thoughts of her mother and poor, dis-appointed
little Alice brought tlie blind-ing
tears to her eyes. Life was very des-olate.
Alice ! what would the New-Year
bring to her ? She ran along briskly, with
a dreadful aching at her lieart, till she
reached the stylish resiaence of her em-ployer.
"Oh Miss Arbuthnot! here you are,'"
cried Mrs. Draper, as Janet tapped at the
door of the dressing-room. "Ooine in,
we're in dreadful ne?d of help. Agnes
is in despair ; no one can do her hair to
suit her; will you have the goodness to
try ?"
Janet laid aside her wraps, and ap-proaching
the superb beauty, who sat in
an arm-chair opposite the mirror, mag-nificently
attired in gold-colored silk, be-gan
the task of arranging the lustrous, ra-ven
hair.
"And now," asked Janet, when her
task was done, and every braid was per-fect,
''what ornaments shall you wear ?"
"Emeralds, of course. Green and gold
are his favorite colors, you know, moth-er,"
replied Agnes, smiling and blushing.
"Thereis the jewel-case, Miss Arbuthnot."
Janet opened it, and clasped the glit-tering
gems on neck and wrists, and hung
the gleaming pendants from thj. her ears.
"And what ibr your hair ?" she asked.
"Who knows ?" replied the beauty, dis-contentedly.
"Flowers, I suppose. If only
I had emeralds to match my necklace.
Pshaw !" she continued, as Janet held a
wreath of rose-buds against her jetty
braids, "take them away. They spoil
everything else. Nothing but emeralds
will do."
"Won't your pearls an-^sver?" suggest-ed
her mother.
"Pearls mixed with emeralds ! You
would make a fright of me, mamma. Oh,
dear ! I shall have to take off the dress,
and wear something else."
Janet hesitated a moment, and then
drew the little casket from her pocket.
'T beg your pardon, Miss Draper," she
said, timidly, flashing open the case
"but if these would suit, f should l>e so
pleased."
"Why, Janet," cried the heiress, lifting
the glittering string from the case, "are
you another Cinderella ? But where,'"
she added, in surprise, "did you get these
costly gems ?"
"Thev were the gift of a dear friend,
replied Janet, quietly. "1 meant to sell
them this evening, but my heart failed me."
no new frock, I've no place to go to ; and
we shan't have even a dougnnut for New-
Year—shall we, mother ?"
The mother sighed, and fell back upon
her pillow, pressing her thin hands to her
lace to hide the tears she could not keep ;
back. i
Janet stood, for a moment, with her
the plash of the fountain, and catch the
twitter of the caiiaries from their gilded
cages. His lace was bending over her,
his kisses burned upon her brow, his very
words seemed sounding in liereai- again.
"A quaint alliiir for a betrothal-gift, dar-ling,"
ho said, "but they are very preci-ous,
and they were my mother's wedding
Agnes flushed with pleasure. The mu-sic
struck up, and he turned to lead her
off, but suddenly stopped, staring like one
petrified.
"Great heavens !" he exclaimed, at last,
"they are the same ! Miss Draper, ex-cuse
me ! But 1 cannot be mistaken ;
where did you get those emeralds ?"
Agnes gi'ew scarlet to her very finger-tips,
and drew back haughtily.
"A strange question, Mr. Willoughby,"
she said.
'I know. Miss Draper ; and I beg par-don
for my rudeness ; but those gems
were my gift to the dearest friend I ever
had. You can understand my solicitude
to know how they came into yoUr posses-sion
"
'They are not mine, Mr. Willoughby,"
was the surprised answer ; "they belong
to my mother's governess."
"And her name ?" he said,breathlessly.
"Janet Arbuthnot."
Mr. Willoughby's travel-bronzed face
grew absolutely radiant.
"One other favor. Miss Agnes," he said.
"Can 1 see your mother's governess'?"
For an instant Agnes struggled with
wounded vanity and self-love, an^ then
said, frankly, her better nature triumph-ing.
"f see, Mr. Willoughby, that there is a
grand denouncement at hand, the finale
for our tableaux. ('ome with me."
He followed her from the parlors, and
into a little ante-room, where the young-governess
sat. One glance at the quiet
figure in its robe of brown ; at the pallid,
sorrow-worn face ; and Eustace Willough-by
rushed forward with outstretched
arms.
"Janet ! Janet!" he cried, "have I
found ycu at last ?"
Agnes disengaged the emeralds from
her hair, and dropping them softly into
Janet's lap, left the room, blinded by
really genuine tears.
"it is quite as well as if I had won him
myself," she said.
"Why did you leave our dear old city?"
said Eustace Willoughby^, w'hen he and
Janet were alone together. "I can un-derstand
something of your reasons, of
course : you shrank from old associations;
but it has led to this apparent desertion
on my part. 1 had to go up the country
from Calcutta, on important business, fell
sick, and was detained for months. When
1 returned to America, all trace of you
was lost. I have been in search of you
for moiit'is. But now we will never part
again."
So, after all, gladness and rejoicing
came to Janet, and to the friends she'lov-ed,
with the dawning of that NEW-YEAU.
hand on the door-knob ; then she re-cross- ^
ed the room to her mother's bed.
"Don't fret, mother," she said, tender-ly,
kissing the wan and sunken cheeks.
"Keep a brave heart, and the sun will
shine again some day, despite all this
darkness. I thiidc," she added, adjusting
her worn shawl, "that I'll come homo to-night,
if it isn't too late, after the party ;!
else I possess, hence I give them to you."
Cou'd she part from them ? Sell them
for a few paltry shillings ? Her bosom
rose and fell with great th; obs of agony.
She could not ! She was coiling them
into the case again, when her mother's
hollow cough broke on her ear.
"Fur her sake," she murmured, her
and I'll ask Mrs. Draper for part of my I'f^ce whitening in the gloom. "Yes, God
monthly pay. You shall have a New-^lislp me, for her sake I must!"
Year's yet, Alice." i She closed the casket resolutely, and
She kissed them both, and left, closing slipping it in her pocket, hurried out into
the door sofily behind her. But instead the darkening streets. Only a block or
of going directly to the street, she went two from Mrs. Draper's was a fabhionable
into her bed-room. Taking a key from jewelry establishment, every window a
her pocket, she unlocked a small, rose- blaze of light. With her heart in her
wood case that stood upon the table, and mouth Janet entered, and glanced down
drew forth a tiny, ebony casket. Her the long lino of gayly-dressed customers
hands trembled as she unclasped it, and It would be half an hour at least, she saw,'
lifted a string of emeralds it contained, before she could bo waited on, and that
"Why, I'll buy them, if they are for
sale," kindly said the heiress. "Oh,
motlier, do look here ! Was ever anything
so magnificent ?" she cried, excitedly
twining the gorgeous string round her ra-ven
braids. "May I wear them tonight
Janet ?"
"In welcome," said Janet.
"Well, well," continued Agnes, with a
sigh of satisfaction, "there never was such
a godsend ; my dre^s is perfect now. 1
shall not forget your kindness, Miss Ar-buthnot."
And she swept down to the parlors, the
em(n'alds encircling her brow like an au-reola
of light. Janet looked after her
with an odd sensation of mingled pain and
pleasure, and half regretted tlie impulsive
generosity, that had ])romoted her to
proffer her precious emeralds, even for so
short a time.
Tho tableaux were over, and the waltz-ing
had begun. Mr. V illoughby, the lion
of the season, who had just come from
Calcutta, a millionaire, approached to
seek Miss Draper for his lirt^t partner.
"You have surpassed yourself, to-night,
Miss Agnes," he said, hi.s eyes full of ad-miration,
as they rested on her queenly
.!aco.
Tiiiij SILENT CONFLICTS OF LIFE,—"A
triumph inthe field, is a theme for poetry,
for painting, for history, for all the eulog-ists
and aggrandizing agencies whose uni-ted
triliute constitutes fame ; but there
are victories won by men over themselves,
more truly honorable to tho conquerors,
than many achieved in war. Of these silent
sucecsses, we never hear. The battles in
which they are obtained, aie fought in
solitude, and, without help, save from a-bove.
The conflict is sometimes waged
in the still watches of tho night, and tho
struggle is often fearful. Honor to every
conqueror in such a warfare ! Honor to
the man or woumn who fights temptation,
h itred, envy, selfishness, back to its last
covert in the heart, and thence expels it
forever. Although no outward show of
honor accrues to tho victors in these good
fights, they have their reward—a higher
one thau fame can bestow. They como
out of tho combat self-ennobled.''
"Wove you ever at; Cork, Mr. Foote?" siiid uii
Irishinau to tl>o coincdiaii. "No, 1 never was at
Cork," replied tlie wit; '"but 1 havesocu a groat luuny
th-awings oi' it."
A wo\il(l bo wit sskocl his old undo if tho tolling of
a boll (lid not put him in luiad of his butereiur.' "jS'o
sir," ho rt'pliud ; "but the ropo puts mo iu uiiud of
yours.''