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f a ONE FLAG, ONE LAND, ONE HEART, ONE EAND, ONE NATION, EYEBMOBE1 YOL. II. HARTEORD, OOOT., SATURDAY, APRIL 9, 1870. 40. ioiiis at iomc. T I I ] ^ Y O U T H F U L P I L O T. On the bosom of a river, Where the sun unloosed his quiver, Or the stiirlight st.reanied forever, Bailed a'vessel li},dit and free. M(n'nin}j; dew-drops hung like numna. On the bright folds of her banner, While the zephyr rose to fan her. Softly to the radiant sen. At her prow a pilot, beaming In the Hush of youth, stood dreaming, And he was in glorious seeming. Like an aui?el from above. Through his hair the breezes sported, A7id as on the way be lloated. Oft that pilot, angel-throated, VVarl)led lays"of hope and love. Through those locks so brightly flowing. Bads of laurel blooni were bh)wing, And his hands anon were throwing, Music from the lyre of gold. Swiftly down the stream he glided, Soft the purple waves divided, And a rainliow arch abided, On his canvas' snowy fold. Anxious hearts w-itli fond devotion, Watched him sailing to the ocean, Praying that no wild commotion, ''Mid the elements migiit rise. And he seemed some young Apollo, Charming summer winds to follow. While the water Hags' coralla, Trembled to his music sigh. But these purple waves enchanted Eolled beside a city Iiaunted . By an awful spell, that daunted Every comer to her siiore. Night shades rank the air (mcumbered, And pale marble statues numbered Where the lotus-eaters slumbered, And awoke his life no more. Then there rushed with lightning quickness O'er his face a mortal sickness, And the dews, in fearful thickness. Gathered o'er his temple fair. And there swept a dying murmur. Through the lovely Southern summer, As the bounteous pilot comer. Perished by that city there. Still I'olls on that radiant river, And the sun unbinds his ([uiver, And the starlight streams forever, On its bosom as before. But that vessel's rainbow banner. Greets no more the gay savannah. And that ])ilot's lute drops manna, On that purple wave no more. M A D E M O I S E L L E N E O K E K . Translated from the French " M R . GIDBON : Do me the favor to call and see me. 1 have something of the groat est importance to con.<ide to you, and wish particuhirly to speak with you in private, ''You will find me at J^t. Ouon. Pap brought me here last week by order of Dr. TrOdcliin, who hud prescribed coun try air for my health. ''I am, dear Mr. Gibbon, with great re spect, your little friend, ''ANNE LOUISE GERMAINE NECKER. "P. S.—I beg you most earnestly to appoint some day for your visit, and to come punctually. Above all, must I im plore you not to look upon the step I am taking as the act of a child. True mamma will not allow me to occupy an arm-chair, but makes me sit at her feet on a little stool. M(jrcover, slie often tells me to hold myself straight, that our vis itors (and especially you, Mr. Gibbon, who are not intimately acquainted with me) may well take me for a child. Neverthe-less, 1 assure you thatl am ten years oh)-, atid (sertainly if at ten years 1 dc not know my own mind, I ticver will know it, were I to live till niy hair is gray. "April 10th 177G." The following morning (April 1 lth)two gentlemen in velvet suits were walking leisurely along the higli road that led to St. Oiien. Haid one of the two to his companion, "I confess, dear Gibbon, that l am cuci-ous to know what cm be'the something of the greatest iniport:cince' that Germaine has to communicate to you." "I dare say," replied Gibbon ; "but be j)leased to remember that it is to be con-lided to nie alone."" And with an air of mock foppishness he toyed with the folds of his lace frill. Mr. Necker laughed. "Don't be alarm-ed. I shall not play the part, of the cruel ther and interrupt your tete-a-tete with my daughter. 1 have some business to transact in the neighborhood for Mr. de Thelusson, and will leave you at the park ates." "A man like you, Necker," excliiiuicd Gibbon warmly, "ought to be no l)anker's subordinate. Your fortunes are far from being equal to yonr deserts." But my friends outweigh them," an-swered Necker, extending his hand to Gibbor., "and as long as they are tiue to me, 1 shall ask no favors from so ctiprici-ous a lady as Fortune. But to return to my eccentric little girl ? Did you show her letter to her mother ?" "Discretion forbid 1 I might have been the cause of her receiving a reproof, poor child." "Not so childish as her years, Gibbon. I assure you she says and does things that astonish me. Perliaps my patertial love misleads me, but—" 'Not at all, not at all," interrupted Gibbon. "Germaine will be a remarkable woman. Her versalillity of genius in conversation is wonderful. With Mar-nioutel she is brilliant, with Grimm full of wit, with rAb6e Raynal simple and sincere, and with Thomas she discusses grave questions with the seriousness of n. judge. Why, the child is a prodigy ; her mother is the only person ihat does not seem to know it." "Her mother knows it full as well as anybody else ; but she has her own ideas on the subject of educating children and dreads nothing more than to see' her daughter sell conceited. For myself, without interfering at all with my wife's systematic disregard of her daughter's cleverness, 1 temporize a little by oliering her occasionally the opportunity of dis-playing her powers against myself. And at such tinges, 1 must; say that she de-lights me. But her development is too rapid, Gibbon, and her health is not ro-bust." "Ah, well, at St. Ouen she will be temp-ted to romp, and so grow strong again. Here we are at the gates, and 1 begin to feel my curiosity revive." "1 suppose she wishes to consult you on some point of history. You know how fond she is of cutting out paj)er kings and queens, and making them perform traged-ies. 1 only wish you could hear the speeches she improvises for royalty ! 1 presume she has soin(i new dranra on liand,imd, as you are a famous historian, she wants your opinion or your help." "I insist upon it that the affair is far above any point of history," returned Gibbon, laughing. "The style of the let-ter is grave and dignilied." "As grave as her occupation at this moment ?" said Necker, pointing to an object that was moving rapidly under the trees, at some distance from the park gates. "Look, there, there, do you see?" Gibbon looked up, and presently he saw coming awiftly towards them a baby car-riage, to which was harnessed a little girl, whose masses of Idack hair were standing out in every direction from her head, and whose magnillcent black eyes were sparkling with animation and en-joyment. In tlie carriage vvere two chil-dren, one a baby boy, and the othei- a girl soujcwhat younger than the one who liad constituted herself both horse and whip on the oecasion. Mr. Necker hid himself behind Gib-bon's broad back, while he whispered : •'If her mother could see her now, blowsy and tumbled as she is, poor Ger-maine would be sure of a lesson in good behavior." "Come, come," returned Gibbon, rub-bing his hands, "go ubout your bu.sinuss. I begin to think that the impoit int affair for which 1 am sunnnoneti is to take my t urn to draw ihe baby carriage, if it is, 1 shall certainly let her put me iu harness, and to do my best. It will remind me of my own dignified doings fifty years ago." And, with these words, the two gentle-men parted. One skirted the wall of the park, and the other hiuiself vigorously to ringing the bell of the lodge. At sight of a stranger within the park gates, tliC carriage cmne to a sudden stop, aiul the young lady that was drawing it turned very red, and looked terribly ashamed. Disengaging herself from her harness, she came forward. ' (.)h, Mr. Gibbon! 1 am mortified to think that you should surprise me trying to amuse these childroi. I am almost sorry that I told you my age ; you will have such a poor opinion of me." "By no means a poor opinion. Mad-emoiselle de Neeker," replied Gibbon, with a respectful bow. "The exercise of drawing a carriage mu.st be very strength-ening, f o r i presume—" "'I'hat you are like my father, and in-dulge in raillery," was the quick reply. "1 assure you—indeed," i-eplied Gib-bon, not knowing exactly what to say, "1 am aware that Dr. Tronchin has pre-scribed active—" "So he has," interrupted Germaine, blushing; "but, as I never tell a false-hood, I beg you to believe that I am not amusing myself altogether by way of fol-lowing a doctor's prescription." "1 admire your candor, and hope that you will carry it out in all your inter-course with me. I am at your disposal." Germaine blushed again, and her intel-ligent countenance grew very grave. "Be so good as to go with me to the |)arlor, Mr- Gibbon. This is not a fit place to discuss serious matters.'' And turning to the little ones iu the carriage, she cri-ed, "Now, children, be good until I re-turn, and don't wrangle." And seeing that the Idea of her absence was not pleas-ing, she kissed them, and promised to be gone a very little while. Resuming her grown-up demeanor, slie placed her liitle hand on Gibbon's arm, and looking as stately as she could, walk-ed up by his side to the chateau. At the parlor door she dropped his arm, seated herself (as mamma was not by) in an arm chair, and pointing to another just opposite, said : •'Sit down, if you please, Mr. Gibbon." Gibboj., trying not to laugh, complied. Germaine, her eyes modestly bent down, went on : "I am about to speak to you, dear sii-, on a subject very near "Why so, Miss Necker "Because it looks as if yon wanted to outside I be rid of me, as if you thought a promise applied ; to me was of no consequence ; and yet— and yet I am more serious than you im-agine." "I see that you are, my dear child," returned Gibbon, kindly, for he perceived that her expressive face denoted disap-pointment, "Tell me at once what you wish, for if I promise beforehand it is be cause I know that you would require noth' ing of me which I might not safely grant." The little face grew bright again. "Ah, that reconciles me," replied she. Then, raising her eyes to his with an imploring gaze, she said : "Mr. Gibbon, will yon marry me ?" Gibbon was so astonished that he bounded from his seat ; but recovering his presence of mind, he replied : "Marry you, dear child 'i Why I am old enough to be your grandt'ather." "Well, sir, if you are too old, 1 am too young, and that makes our ages balance." "Marry you !" repeated Gibbon in his excess of wonder. "Do you release me ?" exclaimed Ger-maine rising. "No, indeed," said Gibbon, putting her tenderly back in her chair. "I would be a dolt not to accept such a pretty little hand. But do tell me to which of my personal attractions I owe the honor you intend to confer upon me. Do you think me handsome V asked he, raising and parading his clumsy, fat person up and down the room. Germaine laughed so heartily at the picture that she could only shake her head with emphatic denial "Then it must be the sound of my voice," return Gibbon, speaking more than usual through his nose. Germaine laughed still louder, but macie out lu say, "No, no indeed." "Then you are charmed with my con-versation ?" "No, Mr. Gibbon, no," said Germaine, becoming serious. "I do not enjoy your conversation; for many a time, sitting on my footstool, listening to you talk with papa, I have almost fallen asleep. I hope you are not offended," added she, with pleading eyes and sweet, deprecating gesture. "No, dear child, no. I love your inno-cent simplicity." "It only proves my want of taste," re-my heart. Promise me not to laugh, for plied she 1 am in eurnest." "Not at all ; I am just as you see me ; This was rather a difficult matter, so ugly, with a nasal twang, and heavy in Gibbon said nothing. Germaine, not' society. Now, then, why haveycu, so seeing all the faces he was making to a-i bright, so clever, so attractive—why void bursting with merriment, continued: "1 believe you are not married, Mr. Gibbon." "No, Mademoislle, 1 am not." have you chosen me ?" "Becanse, Mr. Gibbon, papa loves and admires you above all his friends, because he ei joys your society, if I do not ; and But you don't intend to remain a if, when 1 am old enou>2h, you will consent bachelor all your life, do you ?" j to marry me, he will never be obliged to "1 confess, Madeuioiselle," returned part with you, and you will love himev- Gibbon, in a state of supreme astonish- en more than you do now." ment, "that I have thought very little on the subject.'- Gibbon was touched to the iieart. Take ing the little hand that was extended to ly happy if you would become ins sun. At that moment Mr. Necker entered and live with him forever." room. "liut, my dear Miss Necker, a man , Gibbon was so much affected that his does nor marry his futher-in law, and 1' ^^ere full of tears.'-My ilear friend,'^ know of nobody having any inclination yj-iej he, "this child is angelic. Would to become my wife." | believe it? For love of you, she " \ o u r wile, your wile! What does would actually marry m;." that signify'J But of course to have a .^Yes, dear papa,'" exclaimed Ger-father- in-law there must be a wife ui quos-! ,„aine, running t.owards her father, and tion Now, hste.i to me, and promise cUisi)ing him around the neck, "when i not to refuse. Qm qU enough to bo married, I am to ' 1 promise beforehand." j^i^j.^.y Mr. Gibbon " Germaine tossed back her head.^"\ou , ^Marry Mr. (iibhon !" echoed Necker, are in great haste to in-omiso Mr. Gibbon, looking first at his friend, who was pre-withuut knowing to what you pledge petrating a succession of nods, and then yourself, i would have liked some little his daughter, whose beautiful eyes reflection on your part." i fixed upon him with an cJSprosbion.
|Title||Soldiers' record, 1870-04-09|
|Uniform Title||Soldiers' record (Hartford, Conn.)|
|Subject||United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Veterans -- Connecticut -- Newspapers; Hartford (Conn.) -- Newspapers|
|Description||Frequency: Weekly; Publication dates: Vol. 1, no. 1 (July 11, 1868)- ; Notes: Devoted to the interests of the soldiers and sailors of the late war.|
|Collection||Newspapers of Connecticut|
|Source - Location||Connecticut State Library microfilm, AN104.N6 C6692|
|Relation-Is Part Of||Connecticut military newspapers, 1862-1875|
|Publisher||W.F. Walker & Co|
|Rights||Digital Image © Connecticut State Library. All rights reserved. Images may be used for personal research or non-profit educational uses without prior permission. For permission to publish or exhibit, see Reproduction and Publication of State Library Collections, http://ctstatelibrary.org/reproduction-publication/|
|Title-Alternative||Other title: Soldiers' record and Grand Army gazette; The soldiers' record|
|CONTENTdm file name||433.cpd|
ONE FLAG, ONE LAND, ONE HEART, ONE EAND, ONE NATION, EYEBMOBE1
YOL. II. HARTEORD, OOOT., SATURDAY, APRIL 9, 1870. 40.
ioiiis at iomc.
T I I ] ^ Y O U T H F U L P I L O T.
On the bosom of a river,
Where the sun unloosed his quiver,
Or the stiirlight st.reanied forever,
Bailed a'vessel li},dit and free.
M(n'nin}j; dew-drops hung like numna.
On the bright folds of her banner,
While the zephyr rose to fan her.
Softly to the radiant sen.
At her prow a pilot, beaming
In the Hush of youth, stood dreaming,
And he was in glorious seeming.
Like an aui?el from above.
Through his hair the breezes sported,
A7id as on the way be lloated.
Oft that pilot, angel-throated,
VVarl)led lays"of hope and love.
Through those locks so brightly flowing.
Bads of laurel blooni were bh)wing,
And his hands anon were throwing,
Music from the lyre of gold.
Swiftly down the stream he glided,
Soft the purple waves divided,
And a rainliow arch abided,
On his canvas' snowy fold.
Anxious hearts w-itli fond devotion,
Watched him sailing to the ocean,
Praying that no wild commotion,
''Mid the elements migiit rise.
And he seemed some young Apollo,
Charming summer winds to follow.
While the water Hags' coralla,
Trembled to his music sigh.
But these purple waves enchanted
Eolled beside a city Iiaunted .
By an awful spell, that daunted
Every comer to her siiore.
Night shades rank the air (mcumbered,
And pale marble statues numbered
Where the lotus-eaters slumbered,
And awoke his life no more.
Then there rushed with lightning quickness
O'er his face a mortal sickness,
And the dews, in fearful thickness.
Gathered o'er his temple fair.
And there swept a dying murmur.
Through the lovely Southern summer,
As the bounteous pilot comer.
Perished by that city there.
Still I'olls on that radiant river,
And the sun unbinds his ([uiver,
And the starlight streams forever,
On its bosom as before.
But that vessel's rainbow banner.
Greets no more the gay savannah.
And that ])ilot's lute drops manna,
On that purple wave no more.
M A D E M O I S E L L E N E O K E K .
Translated from the French
" M R . GIDBON : Do me the favor to call
and see me. 1 have something of the groat
est importance to con.
|CONTENTdm file name||425.pdfpage|