z . ! TOI QUE JTAIME." ] r ~ ! olflture in mT r00 : A ^iurGol ft **u wit5 facJ0U? air~ ? .lighting up, no trace Of passionate triumph no despair, no blame. And this is all that's left?dust, ashes, tears? Of Iotp whose harvests were not gathered in; A shadow, sterile as the coming years, And comfortless as the past years have been. Ah, Robert, Robert .'?had we never met; Or could I die, and so all griefs forget. ?Citizen and Round Table. ASLEEP AT HIS POST. ? . An Incident qf the Late Wtr. Mr. Owen, a pious farmer in Vermont, gave his eldest on,Benjamin, to the Federal cause in the late fearful struggle. One day a message arrived which fell like a thunder-bolt upon the anxious, yet hopeful family. The lad bad been found asleep at his post, and was condemned to be shot. The terrible news spread in the *#! ? . ?* tUc 8??d join I**"' Mr- -iBtu, came at once to see if it were not possible to administer comfort to the broken-hearted mar?nta. "Oh! sir," cried the sorrowing old man, "such a dear, precious, noble boy! I thought, when I gave him to his country, that not a father in all this broad land made such a precious gift?no, not one. God forgive me if my grief is a sin. Mr. Allen, the dear boy only alept a minute, just one little minute, at his post. I know that was all, for Bcnnie never dozed over duty. How prompt and reliable he was!" and Mr. Owen's ye wandered over the green fields with a perplexed, wandering look. "I know he only fell off one little second; he was so young and not strong, that boy of mine. Why. he was as tall as I and only eighteen, and now they shoot fcim because he was found asleep when doing duty." Mr. Owen repeated these words very slowly, as if endeavoring to find out their true meaning. "Twenty-four hours?the telegraph said only twontyfour. Where is Bennie now?" "We will hope with his Heavenly Father," said Mr. Alien soothingly. "Yes, yes: let as hope. God is very merciful, and Bennie was so good?I do not mean holy," he said, correcting himself, sharply?"there is none holy, no, not ne; but Jesus died for sinners. Mr. Allen, tell me that. O,Bennie!?Bennie!" The mother raised herself as she heard bis name called, and turning, said with a smile, "Don't call so load, father, Bennie U not far off, he will soon come." "God has laid his hand on them both, you see," said Mr. Owen, without making any direct reply. "She has not been just herself since. It is a merciful thing ahe is sort of stunned, it seems to me. She makes no wails." Mr. Allen looked in astonishment at the bowed man, in in ii mii and tufiw him. These few hours had done the work of years. The sinew? frame was tottering now, the eyes ware dimmed, and the sudden sorrow had written itself in deep wripkiee all osa hla. manly ffcee. "God hare mercy on you ; ho. ia trying you in a furnace seven time heatedhe exclaimed almost involuntarily. The daughter, a fairy young girl?Blossom, they called her?sat near them listening with blanched cheeks. She had not shed a tear that day, and the terror in her checks had been so very still that no one had noticed it. She bad occupied herself mechanically in household duties, which her mother's condition devolved entirely upon her. Now sho answered a gentle lap at the door, opening It to receive a letter from a j neighbor's hand, "it is from him," was all she said. Twas like a message from the dead Mr. Owen could not break the seal for his trembling fingers, and held it towards Mr. Allen with all the helplessness of a child The minister opened it, and obedient to a motion. from the fathar, be read as follows: "Dear Father : When this reaches vau I shall be in eternity. At first it seemed awful to me, but 1 hare thought about it so much that now it has no terror. They say they will not bind me nor blind me, hut that I may meet my death like a man. I thought, father, it might have been on the battle-field of my ouDtry ,and that when I fell It would be fighting gloriously ; but to be shot down like a dog for nearly betraying it?to die for .neglect of duty! Oh, Father; I wonder the very thought does not kill me! But I hall not disgrace you. I am going to write you all about it, and. when I am gone yon may tell my comrades. I can't now. fcYou know I promised Jemmy Carr'a mother that I would look after her boy, and when he fell sick, I did all I could for him. He was not strong when he was rdered back into the ranks, and the day before that sight I carried all his baggage, besides my own, on our aurch. Toward night we went in a double quick, and j v- 4a fatil pnrr Koarr V pltA ?liC UBggugc wvgau ~ .w. " v.j j J tu tired too, tod as for Jemmy, if I had not lent him ?n arm now and then he would have dropped by the way. I was all tired out when I went into camp, and then it was Jemmy's turn to be sentry, and I would take his place; but I was too tired, father. I could not have kept awake if I had bad a gun at my head. But I didn t know until?well it was too late!"' *%rod be thanked!" interrupted Mr.Owen,reverently. "I know Bennie was not the boy to sleep care lessly at his post." "They tell me to-day that I haTe a short reprieve given to me by circumstances?time to write to you, ur good Colonel says. Forgive him, father?ho only 4oee his duty. He would gladly save me if he could. And don't lay my death against Jemmy. The poor hoy is broken-hearted, and does nothing but beg and antreat them to let bim die in my stead. "I can't bear to think of mother and Blossom. Com9brt them, lather. Tell them that I die as a brave boy should, and that when the war is over they will not be ashamed for me as they must be now. God help me, it la very hard to bear. Goodbye, father. God seems aear and dear to me?not at all as if be wished me to werish forever, but as if he felt sorry for his poor sinful hilti, and would take me to be with Him and my Saviour, in a better, better life." A great sob burst from Mr. Owen's heart. "Amen!" he said eolemly, "Amen I* "To-night in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all coming home from pasture?Daisy and Brindle, and Bett; old Billy, too, will neigh for his stall, and precious little Blossom stand waiting for me, but I shall mever, neve come. God bless you all. Forgive your poor, poor Bonnie." ??**** Late that night the door opened softly, and a little igure glided out and down the foot-path that leads to the road by the mill. She seemed rather flying than walking, turning her head neither to the right or left, starting as the full moon sketched queer fantastic ?hape6 all around her, looking only now and then to feeaven, and folding her hands as if in prayer. Two hours later the same young girl stood at the Mill X>opot, watching the coming of the night train, and the conductor, a? he reached down to lift her in, wondered at the sweet, tear-stained face, that was upturned toward the dim lantern held in his band. A few questions and ready answers told him all, and wo father could baTe cared more tenderly for his own utiild than hod id for Blossom. She was on her way to Washington, to ask President Xioocln for her brother's life. She had stolen away, leaving only a note to tell her father where and why jhe had gone. She had brought. Bennie's letter with her; no good, kind heart like the President's could refuse to be melted by it. The next morning they reached New York, and the conductor fouud suitable company for Blossom, and hurried her on to Washington. Every minute now might be a year In her brother's life. And so, tn an incredible short time, Blossom reached , the capitol and was hurried at once to the White House. The President bad just seated himself to his morning task of overlooking and signing important papers, when without one word of announcement, the aoor softly opened, and Blossom, with eyes cast down and folded hands, stood before him. "Well, my child," he said in his pleasant, cheery i tone, "what do you want so bright early in the morning?" "Bennie? Who isBennie?" | JQly brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for f Beeping at his post." "Ob, yes;" and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye'over the J papers before him. "I remember. It was a fatal sleep. You see, child, it was a time of fatal danger.?Tho?6- j ands of lives might Bavb been lost for his culpable! negligence." " -* -* * "So my father saM," said Blossom, gravely, "but my noor brother Benuie was sotired sir, and Jemmy was very weak. He'd id tffeHwfc oftwo, and it was Jemmy's night, not his. But Jimmy was too tired; and j Bennie never thought about himself, that he was also too urea."What is this you say say, my child? Come here, I don't understand," and the kind man caught eagerly as ever at what seemed to be a justification of an offence. Blossom went to him; he put his band tenderly on her shoulder, and turned up the pale serious face towards his. How tall he seemed ; and he was President of the United States, too. A dim thought of this kind passed for a moment through Blossom's mind; but she told her story simply and straightforward, and handed Mr. Lincoln Bonnie's letter to read. He read it carefully; then taking up his pen, wrote a few hasty lines and rang the bell. Blossom heard this order given: "Skn*d this dispatch at on'ck." The President then turned to the little girl and said ; "Go home my child and tell that father of yours#who could apjfrove'his countrv's sentencoce^n .when M took the life oft etrild lifce thafc AbraJIm Lincoln thinks the life far too preciouk to be lostr Go back, or wait until to-morrow. Bennie will need change after he has faced death. Wait and he shall go with you." "God bless you, sir." said Blossom ; and who eb*,r doubt that God heard and registered Two dn vi afUir *?'? ? mo young soldier camo tn *?..> nTTHellouse with his sister. He was called into the President's private room, and a strap fastened upou the sbolder, when Mr. Lincoln said "that the soldier who could carry a sick comrade's baggage, and die for the good act uncomplainingly deserved honor." Then Bennie and Blossom took their wajr to the Green Mountain Home, and a crowd gathered ai tne aim Depot, to welcome them back, and Farmer Owen's head towered abore them all, and as his hand grasped that of his boy, Mr. Allen heard him say ferveutlv, as the best blessing he could pronounce upon his child: "Just and true are thy ways, thou King of Saints." "That night Daisy and Brindle and Bet came bellowing home froiu pasture, for tbey heard a well-known voice calling them at the gate, and Bennie, as be pats his old pets and looks lovingly in their groat brown eyes, catches through the stilf evening air his Puritau father's voice, as he repeats to his happy mother these jubilant words, "Fear not, for I am with thee I bring thy seed from the west; I will say to the North, Give up, and to the south,Keep not back; bring my sons from afar, and dtngtiten from the ends of the earth ; eveu every,one that is called by my name: for 7 have created him for my glory, I have formed nim, yea I have made him. TBS IRISH PEASANT'S CATECHISM. The first arrest under the Peace Preservation (Ireland) act was made at Dundalk, county Louth, April 12, when a Mr. John Mathews, printer and newsdealer of that town, wa9 taken into custody by three police constables on a charge of having on that day " sold a printed pamphlet entitled the Farmers' Catechism, containing divers seditious and treasonable words and sentences." Constable McKee deposed to having purchased a copy or the pamphlet in' question at Mr. Mathews' shop. The prisoner declined to state whence he obtained the pamphlet, and was remanded, to enable the authorities to he consulted with, ball for his appearance being taken. The following is a complete copy of the publication referred to, which tor some time past has been largely circulated in the different market towns of Ireland: What is your name ? Oppression. What gavo you this name? My landlor^and a child of f nil. a n??n of Borrow, and an Inheritor Of a bundle of rags. What did your landlord and agent then do for you ? They did promise and vow three things in my name?first, that X should renounce all the comforts of this life and all ploasurcs found therein; secondly, that I should be a hewer of wood and drawer of water, and thirdly, that I shall be a 6lavc for them all the days of my life. Dost thou not think that thou art bound to believe and to do as they Imposed npon you? No; verily, and by God's help I will endeavor to shake off the chains by which I am bonnd, better my condition, and continue in the same until my life's end. Rehearse the articles of thy belief. I believe that God is uo respecter of persons, and tbat He is King of Kings and Lord of Lords; and that He created all things for the good of man, and that every man should enjoy the fruits of his labor, for the laborer is worthy of his hire. I also believe tbat I do not enjoy the fruits of my labor, for I am compelled to give it to men who reap where they do not sow, and gather where they have not atrown?who are better known in the banqueting hall, the careless club-house, or on the betting field, than in the school of industry, or among their honest, careworn tenantry, 6ave when the corn is ripe. I also believe that 1 am not able to pay my rent from the produce of my farm, and that the pomp and vanity of those men, who, like birds of passage, leave when they get the last grain of corn?men who live in ease and indolence, rolling about in purple and fine linen, and faring sumptuously every day on the toil and sweat of their fellow-creatures, and reveling on the bread of idleness, have reached their highest climax, and that it is full time they should be brought to know and feel that the stalwart farmers aro the bone and sinew of the land, and that they will no longer endure or submit to the burdens heaped on them by a class of extravagant landlords, who are the chief cause ol the grievances of this country. I believe in the tall of rents and the lowering of taxes, the suppression of crime and the emancipation of all slaves. What dost thon chiefly learn in these articles of tby belief? First, I learn that Justice demands such a state of things to cease, that rents must fall, and that tenant-right must be carried, to the satisfaction of the people, no matter what government rales or who wields the scepter; and secondly, that honest, independent men must ho sent out to value the land, and a fair price laid on according to quality; and that no lands must exceed twenty-five shillings per acre, no matter what quality; for according to the terms of the Ulster plantation, landlords aro not entitled to benefits arising from the improvements of the soil, as all is owing to the labor ot the industrious farmer; and further, that proper security must he given to the tenant farmer that he or his heirs cannot be removed so long as they pay their rents and conduct themselves as become*, h honest, peaceful members of society; and thirdly, that all classes will go hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder in this legal warfare, and never give up till they bring landlord and tenant on a closer equality, and, if needs be, stand their opponents to the lace in the hour of battle, for he who would cot light for his bread would not tight for his sovereign. You said that your landlord and agent did bind you to keep all* their laws and commandments. Tell me how many there be ? Ten. Which be they ? The same which they spake'in their office when they brought me out of the land ot_peace into the land ofbondage. First commandment?mou snait nave no tenant rjgbt. Second?Thoa shalt not make to thyself any changes on thy farm, nor bay nor sell, withont oar consent, nor complain against us lor rearing game thereon for our own amusement on coursing day6, nor keep dog, nor gun, nor cat, to disturb them la any way, no matter what damage tbou mayest sustain thereby; thou shalt bow down and pay obeisance unto us, tor we are thy landlords, and jealous ones, who shall visit tbee and thy children with heavy rents, notices and ejectment processes, if tbou disobey us or neglect to pay thy rents. . Third?Thou shalt not take the name of thy V THE REPU landlord nor agent In vain, nor speak lightly Of as, k no matter what we do, for we will not hold them . guiltless who taketh our name In vain. " Fourth?Uemember that thou art a tenant at will; p 385 days shalt thou labor and do all that thou hastto , do; but the 1st day of November in each ye9t|^^ A our rent day, in which thou shalt do no mannenE