Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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-~-^~ " ~~ " " ' CHARLESTON, CHRISTMAS EVE, DECEMBER 24, 1S70. . " Mark Tivuin'.s Last. TilUlSH ACKS. jim T0r>d"3 ep150dk ix social b'jciiks. I don't go much on little games of kecrds plarcd with a stranger, Seaco?darned ijalboi :?i tool: a hand uu board the XatChez Ranger, With three smooth chaps that said they'd li!:e to pass the time away In a little social euchre, or some such barm less play. I never had such luck afore, in any spot or place; My hand was frequently lousy with bo;!t bowers and the ace. Tho chap next to me said, "If we was ptaj la this for lucre You'd bust, us sure ! we're lucky that its only social euchre P Bimo bye the chap ou tit 2 totiier .side, sea he, "If this was poker And l could diskeered two keerds, I'd have a lit tle joker; I'd back my three remalaiu' kecrds for all X coals afford. Agin three kecrds ia any hand there Is around this board !" I looked mine over. Rich ? You bet ! 1 gin a chuckle merry, And know'd 1 hail him! "Cap," sez 1, "you air my huckleberry V ' Then each of us dlskcci?kd two, I h id all aces back, And I know'd them would lay over any three kecrds m the pack ! Soft thin ? l gucsH not! "Cap," sez I, "jest name it If you please !" Sez he, "wal, since you are so kind, l'il chip a Y on these !" "Jes so." sez I, "I see your V and go two X's better " "That's jest my Hx,''hv. he, " I'm bound that i wont be yon debtor." To cut it short, 1 went for him, East as a little wagon. I had a snrc thing?jus', the hand to moke a lint Old "brag'" on. My poid got dry. He "called" me. I spread thorn aces uur. And reached Tor that Uur "pot," I guess, without a llngerin' donbr. "Hold on !" sez he. "them arc not, good.'' Ses I, "theyoan'tbo beat By uo three keerds. Then aces must be jest as good as wheat !" ' Wal here's three elobs?a lln h." sez he, "a Hash will still beat threes. And capture your three aces and the 'pot' with periect ease !" Tlucked? Now you're talkin'! 1 was plucked as any K.xise i I woulit liev ?t, but I soon seed it wouldn't be no use: Them three smooth chaps was on It, an 'wasn't skeered at danger. Since then I don't, go much on s tflal mehre with ast.r<imrer i [Cam Byku. [Uvffalo Express: SHOT TO DEATH. AN [INCIDENT OF THE CAMPAIGN OF >V,3. By Francis Warrfngton. IX CAMP. The Army of Northern Virginia had fought through the second Maryland campaign. Get tysburg was lost. Ylcksburg had fallen. There was weeping and lamentation in ten thousand Southern homes, and the hearts ol our people were oppressed with sorrow and with care. Wearily and sadly "ihe barefooted boys" ol the Confederate army had tramped along the dusty roads ot the Valley ol" Virginia, and now they lay In camp near quiet Orange Court house. A week or two of rest and quiet, an Improved commissariat, and a promise Irom tho plausible quartermaster, bad raised the spirits of both oiCcers and men. The sword or the South was ag:0 u keen and briucUU mid where was the laggard who did not yearn for another bout with the foe ? As a staff olllcer In the "Old First Corps"/! had managed to make ruysell tolerably com fortable. Virginia tobacco und a philosophical spirit had something to do with my habitual equanimity, and as J lay thai August, evening under a teut-fly, In the woods of Orange, there wim no heavier care on my soul than was sug gested by the appetizing simmer of the vesper bacon. No one was with me bur my old churn and fellow-olllcer, Charlie Vcrnon, who had been my bosom Irtond siuce lue chances et ser vice first threw us together. We had rolled in the same blanket. We had drunk from the same canteen. Charlie had helped me to dis pose of an obstinate Michigauder cavalryman. And I had?well, never mind about that. Charlie was deeply and desperately blue. ^ After many attempts he had succeeded in get ting a lorty-eight hours" leave, and was oil' like a shot?about eight miles an hour in those days?to Richmond. But the bright buttons and untarnished lace of C. S. and Q. M. were more potent than the stained grey jacket, bat tered hat aud dingy boots of a man 01 duty lu the Held. Charlie Was unceremoniously Jilted, and gave himself up to the gloomy delights oi despair. Nothing that I could say brightened his lace or lightened Iiis heart. The blow, foor boy ! wos""moro than he conid bear, and wondered how It would all end as he tossed to and fro ia tue shadow of the pines. Sud denly springing to his loot, he cried out? Jack ! I can't stand this any longer. Ex citement I must have. Action, work, motion ?anything to carry me beyond myself." My only reply was in the sjiape of an Invita tion "to take a pipe." "You are a uulsauce, Jack ! You have no more feeling thau an old stump." "Perhaps." "You don't care a straw for any woman. What would I give if I could only say the same !" "My son ! The motto of Captain J. C. Bever ley ls short aud to the purpose?it: Heine est Morte. Vive la Heine. True ! I did meet a girl In old Sussex, not so long ago, who might nave ina^e me forget myselt, but she is some where in Mosby's Confederacy, and 1 never ex pect to see her again." Just at this point our colloquy was Interrupt ed by the arrival of a courier from headquar ters with a message that General Longs' reel wished to see me immediately. It was not far to "Old Pete's"' tent, and when f returned Charlie saluted me with a volley of questions. My reply was to yell out to my boy' Aleck to feed and saddle my horse, and that ol'Lieuten ant Vernon, as rapidly as possible. Lighting my pipe, 1 condescended to unbur den myself In these words: "You want to know what "Old Pete' is after now, eh ! In truth, I do not know muca about It myself, except that all our Hug-Hoppers are out ol the way, and Lieutenant-Ceuerai James Lougstreet has entrusted me with a highly im portant dispatch, which I am to deliver to a friend ot ours beyond tho lines. The trip is a rather risky one," but"? "Oh, Jack ! let me go in yoiu* place. I have nothing to lose, no ties, uo one to care whether I live or not." "I did not forget you, and the general has given me permission to take you with me. There is your pass?it is signed by to alter Tay lor, like mine. Sorrel says that is all we shall want." Vernon fairly leaped with joy. looking more like his old self than he had doue since that woeful trip to Richnioud. ox TUE uoad. A very lrugal supper was dispatched, and when we had strapped a blanket and oil cloth behind our saddles we were ready for the road. Our horses were iresh and iii fine con dition, and we started off at-a steady trot. We had ridden some distance, when Vernon suddenly wheeled his horse and galloped lack towards our camp. Even this did not surprise me, but I was astonished when he came whooping after uie with it huge Chicopee sabre (raptured from the Mlchigunaer) clattering at his heels. "Surely, yon are not going to lake that noisy rattle-trap with you ? Two pistols each ought to be enough for men who must trttsl more to their wits than their muscle." "That sabre goes, or I do not." "Well, iio not !" "I do not mean that exactly. Lui I crave a hearty, straightforward, whule-soulod lick at "somebody" with this old sabre; though, to tell tho truth, my swordmausldii is mure main strength anil awkwardness "than any thing else." There'the argument ended, and we rode si lently on. We were well mounted. My com panion rodu a powerful black horse?clean limbed, full-chested, with small, nervous ears, and quick, bright eyes. Charlie had dubbed him Satan. The name was wed deserved, for, /? ei? a non huxndo, his Satanic Majesty was nearly unmanageable under fire. My uWI1 horse" was known throughout the corps lor his remarkable.speed and graceful form. Dear Sultan was steady as a rock under lire. The TrWfcry storm at Gettysburg hardly made him prick his ears. He was thoroughly broken, and would obey the lightest touch of heel or hand, as wed as t he sound oi my voice. It was morning when we reached Sperry ville, where we rested all day. Chester Gap and front Royal were held by the enemy, so we crossed the Ridge at Gravelly Gap. lorded the sparkling Shenandoah?Fair Daughter or the Stars?and by sunrise were traveling down the Valley. There were burned barns, torn fences, fields laid waste, mills destroyed, but Sheridan had not yet swept like a devout ing flame over the garden ot Virginia, the hearts of the people were as t rue as steel, and there w;is abundant loot! and shelter lor the errant Confederate soldier. Ail our ingenuity was tasked to elude the federal patrols, but wo passed White Post." and Millwood unobserved, flanked a picquet, and recrossed the Ridge. Now we were fairly within the enemy's lines.' My dispateh was learned by heart by both of tis, and hidden about my persou. I told Charlie my whole in s ruction.-, and explained that the dispatch titust not be allowed to fall into the hands of the enemy. Then we pushed on. At Uppervllle, we learned mat I ho road (hence u> Leesburg where there was aFedo ia! garrison, was generally clear, although squads of cavalry "patrolled it. every day or two, paying Hying visits to Uppervillo. Paris and Middleburg, in search of the 'pestiferous" Mo.-by aud his men. qui VIVE ! I The morning was bright aud clear, and we I were both encouraged" by the good-fortune which had at tended us. Along each side of j the road was a ragged stone fence, 'f tirough the woods beyond stole the glinting rays of the rising sun. Vernon was unusually depressed. The aid matlon of the liest day's rule had wholly dis-1 appeared, and now he was as gloomy as a j pauper's funeral. The boy had too much heart lor these tough times. A sel lied sorrow hud come upon his life, and it was little ccnsolutiou to know ihat she who duped him was bearing the dull torment of au unloving marriage. Our horses, strangely enough, were restless aud uneasy. A stroke of the spur was all that their whinneying brought them, A turn iu the road w-s a few yards off, and there we hoped to rind a house where we might learn the slato oi affairs In Leesburg. Straw was scattered along the fence; a broken gate lay across the road; but little we heeded theui until the sharp, click ol'a carbine lock, and the loud challenge. Halt ! Jell with startling distinctness upon the silent morning air. Di stantly all our senses were on. the alert. We were in a mess?no doubl of It. A lew paces in front, in a fence corner, stood two Federal soldiers, with levelled carbine-. So lar, our blue overcoat-s had deceived them. They did not lire. Our Qrst thought was to dash ul them - Ihey were but two; but a second glance showed us the reserve picket not more than a hundred yards behind. And. more distant still, a bugle was sounding "boot and saddle." All this flashed through the brain In an in stant. The picket challenged us?W/icobmcs there ? My mind wrfs made up, Charlie. I felt, was ready. Gathering up my bridle reins, [ answered?God forgive me !?Friends. The 'pickets ..carelessly lowered ilieir carbines. "Now for it, Chanie," I cried. "Hide tor vour life !" Uur horses wheeled with the- rapidity of lightning, and away we sped at n sweeping gallop. Fortunately, "the Yanks" were not armed with the nuw-iangicd sixteen shoot ers, of which they gave us a taste later In the w;;r. A brace of bullets hummed harmlessly over heads, and oh we went at n glorious rate. Aye ! and it did my heart good to press Sultan's heaving flanks, as he devoured the ground with his vigorous stride. I looked at Charlie. The devil-may-care look was again in his fice, and as we tore along he gaily whistled a song. Tb-- Fodonil ea.1 .ilry tbiuulexud boblml. Xhoy yelled like demons, aud wasted many an ounce of lead: but their government slock was no match lor our Virginia thoroughbreds ami we forged steadily ahead. Vye were now near the Cross Roads; reach thai point and we are sale. Tiie Cross Roads is but a pace or two from us, and turning in my saddle I lake a pot-shot at our pursuers. Then rang out Charlie's clear voice : ' Hurrah ! for Old Virginia, .lack. That was what you might call touch-and-go.'1 I was about, to reply When he suddenly checked his horse. ".-.od Cod ! old Icllow, there's a whole com pany ol Yanks riding along the fence.". Fora moment we despaired, but our blood was up, and our horses, excited by tho run, were equal to any exertion. Swerving from the road, before the new-comers had time to lire, we rushed our horses at the heavy fence, and, with a yell, tore through the woods. The Jump was loo much for Federal nerves. One detachment rode up to the fence ami tired at our retreating selves, while another hastily made a gup lor their comrades lo scramble through. AT DAY. We knew nolhing of the country, and the pursuing cavalry gained upon us rapidly. The pickets whom we Bret encountered were riding diagonally towards us to cut ort' our advance. All t he consequences ofcapt ure Hushed through my mind?loss ol reputation, injury lo the. cause, and a long imprisonment in a Northern prison. "Good bye ! Charlie. We are lost." "Never suy die, old boy ! .Tump the fence. There's an open field beyond. There we can, at least, have a lair run und diu gaine." It was done, and we dashed across I lie field. Hiillet alter bullet whistled by and did uo harm. Suddenly Satan, making a convulsive spring, staggered and fell, carrying his rider with hin!. I sprang from my horse. Charlie was un j hurt. No word needed to pass between us; i our resolve needed uo expression. We must I die, but die together. The dispatch was de stroyed, and when I had grasped his true f hand, and looked upon his face, now bright and joyous, I was ready for the woi-^r. As soon as the enemy saw our plight, eight J or ten ot them dismounted and advanced on foot. The rest ol the crew rode slowly and cautiously towards us. True, there were only t wo ot us, but there might bo an ambuscade or a masked battery or a Mosby In the neigh borhood. An officer who was hugging the fence, call ed out to us to surrender. We laughed in his lace. Then, the whole party fired upon us. One bullet pierced Charlie's hat; another plung ed through my overcoat?originally Uncle Sam's properly." "'hey llred lo little purpose. At last their officer fairly blushed, and ordered them lo "close in and "finish the-rebels." They came up. We lired togetherand two fell. A moment, more and they were upon us. Two stalwart soldiers made tit. me. I tired? missed; Bred again?and one was done for. Tho other aimed a desperate blow at my head. I Hurling my empty pistol in his lace I grappled w:ih him. * Ills hot breath was on my cheek; his eyes glared Into mice. Down he went, and I with him. AS I Staggered to my feet, a mounted man rode up behind me. My head seemed crushed; 1 dropped to the ground; but i iu Hi" last, moment of conscioiuuiess it seemed that I heard the clear ring ot Charlie's defiant voice, ami saw Lite (lashing of a sabre. IN VIXCUIJS. When I struggled back to my senses, 1 knew not whether weeks or months had passed since that memorable morning. Gradually my sight grew clear, and I found that I was lying on the Hour lu a small whitewashed room. The slanting shadows were marking Ihe dull widl with fanciful lines and angles/ My head throbbed violently, and, raising my band, 1 louud that my temples were swathed in band age.*. An uiiiiiisuikeable bhieeuat stood near ihe door, und. us I moved, hemuirered a curse upon the rebels. Where was Charlie ? II. was useless to ask riie "boy in blue" hail no Lime to Waste in talk. Heven dollars a month could not pay for politeness I o a helpless prisoner. When I again came to myself I felt dial, soiue one wiis near me. Kaintly and wisllitlly 1 culled lor Charlie. The only answer was :i Rlsrh. but surely a tear plashed heavily on mj cheek, li was uo dream. A fair young girl knell i>y my side?the-sweet Annie".Lylo, with whom 1 nail wandered so ollen through the qniel wood-<>( Sussex. And what a meeting. 1?a wounded prisoner. She-a tenant by sufferance of her once pleasant home. Hul she had not changed. She was still the graceful. SOnlte, truthful Southern womari. Clasping her hand I implored tidings of him I loved. For long ray pleading was in vain, but at length she consCBtcd to take me to him. Supported by lier arm I tottered into an adjoining room. There he lay, colorles.s as the lily1 and as fair placid as tlie mountain lake over which is brooding the shadow of the storm. A smile fluttered on his lips as he saw me. He was dying. We were alone, and throwing my arms round his neck, I cried like a child. He comforted me und cheered me ! Ho gave me loving words ol promise and of hope ! And at the last moment all the pent-up tenderness ot his nature burst forth; it was a sadly curious mingling of deepest feeling and sportive hu mor?a strange blending of the dolours of love and the glories of war. "And "tell her, Ja 1c, Hint my last thought was o? lier. She was right. Tell her not to blame any. one but Ulis poor me. She did like me once a little; perhaps she will sometimes think oi him who loved too well to be loved in return. Jack! Juck! I?hit that big Yankee] square un ihe head he fell like a beet.*" His strength was lading rapidly. I gave him water, and wiped ihe clammy moisture from his luce. "God knows," he continued, "that no roan ever loved woman more fondly than I loved her. And she kissed me and said she would be my wife. II It could have been ! I knew her so well. And she jilted ino. But he cannot make her happy as I could have dune, though he twine her iieck with Orient, pearls, and cuain will! gold the autumn sunlight tangled I in her hair. As it Is, all that is left ino lo?to tlie. (live her this ring; a poor companion for her diamonds, you will say. Ask her to wear it. for my sake; perhaps she will do that for me. Anil when she? Normal u-r. lam calmer now. 1 do not repine; ami yet to die?so soon. Never to sec her again; never to hear the yell of our gallant boys; never to fight beneath that tallered Mag whose every rout and stain Is a glorious epic of war. .May (Jod comfort lier. They may say what they will, I loved her to the lost." He tainted, and before an hour.liad passed his pure, lofty and uenerous spirit had (flown to tlie seat, of Infinite Mercy and Love. Ami then they told me that when I fell my horse ran up to me, and ihat by jumping upon him, in tho confusion, Charlie might, have made his escape. But he threw himself across my body, and there fought like a Paladln, I until he was shot, in the back by one of his valiant foes. WKfUIIBD IN TilK IIALAXCR. Lecsburg was near, why was I riot sent J there ? Only a dozen men remained at the advance post; but I knew that the lieutenant. j commanding the detachment was awaiting I some important order. [ Early the next morning. I heard the clatter or a horse's hoofs on the hard road, and soon afterward a Federal ofllcer entered the room whore I moodily lay. of course, he did not-1 condescend to "take oil his luit or how, but, throwing himself upon the solitary chair, lie said: "vVhat Is your name, ran'; and duty ?" I gave him these particulars, adding that I had the honor ol belonging to the military fami ly ot Lieutenant General James Lougstrect, I whose name he had perhaps heard before. ' What are you doing so far from your com mand ?" "I am on special duty." "What is it,, and where are your orders ?" "I cannot answer your first question, and as to the second, my orders were verbal, su thai I have not a scrap of | aper ot any kind about me to show what I am." Ho remained silent, biting Iiis lips lor a moment, ami then said: "Tills game won't do; il has been played once too oitcn. We had determined to make I an example of I he first man of your command that we could catch, and It's rallier unlucky j for your friends thai we happened on you." This annoyed, rather than alarmed me. "For what de you take me, sir--a spy ?" "And worse !" "For General Lne. perhaps, or Mr. Davis V "i know you. You are one of itosby's dam nable gang of thieving, murdering guerillas ! "Well, sir; and what have they done to ex cite your wrath ?" "Done! what have they nut done? We I haven't a moment's res!. They are here, there ninl everywhere. Whei over thy see a head ihi?y lot tr. at;.I cr.i gonu !>. !..r. ?ov-.no gt-t ui I tlieid. A wagon caiiimi go a mile out of camp without being capturai by Afosby. A scorning (Kitty goes out and don? come buck?wtiHuretl by Maiby. Our officers are seized in their beds at night, and are missing in lite morning I ?cupluretl by Mosby. We have hunted liltn I month niter month, but cannot curch him. This house is one ol his stopping places, yet we can never run 111 tu to earth. I tell yon thai this rascally guerilla Mosoy has done the Hulled Suites more real hurt than any one division m the .Hebel army. .My Inquisitorial friend boorishly l ook his de parture. The day wore slowly on aud Annie contrived to see me. She was sad, very sad, ami I did my best to comfort her. The dimpled hand was clasped in mine; the fair head, with ils wealth of rippling golden hair, rested on my brensL Yei. the tears gathered in her eyes, and when I entreated hei to tell me the cause ot her distress she lore herself from my em brace and lied from the room. This sel. me to musing why a woman should weep when she must ire perfectly happy. My reverie was cut short by the abrupt en trance ol the morose Lieutenant who, without one word of preface, I old me Hud. in accordance wii h the sentence 01 a regimental conrt-raartlal held that, morning. I was to be ah ot as one of\ Mosby'ssples at sunrise the COininy day. DE PKOFUXDIS ! My mind was so confused that it was long ero 1 realized Ihe extent, of my (lunger. For a time I could neither think nor determine ] what, to do. Thenn thousand 111 ughis und 1 fancies chased each other through my brain, [ unlit it seemed that my senses were leaving me. Soon I became more calm. It was clear now that Annie had know a my doom, and the guard til. my dour, touched perhaps, told me ihat Uns bonnie girl of mine had so lor for ! g?lten her womanlydlflldenceand Southern pride as to plead for my life, or at. least lor a postponement ot the hour appointed tor my execution. Her prayers were met with word's ol insulting disdain. It grieved me sorely that, lor my sake, she had ventured and borne J so mudi. I blamed lier for what site hud ( done; yet loved her all the more. si lie came to me ?gain, and for hours wo sat together. The sweet misery of those last mo ments must, live while lite slmll last. But iL was now near sunset, and when day should break I must die. I tore myself from my sweet bei rol lied. The lirsl violence of her grief had passed away, and :ts she glided from the room, she whispered me to be hopelul still. Poor child ! There were no relations, far or near, lo whom I could write. Annie would tell my friends?te'l them that I died like a soldier with my lace to the foe. Poor Charlie ! I did no: think to meet you so suou. Only a lev/ hours sleep and then -the firing parly and eternal rest. It was strange that I could be so calm. All my senses were pr?ter-1 naturally acme, ami I found myself trying hard lo solve a psychological phenomenon? myself. 1 knew t hai I was to die?yet it could n?t be me. The soul which could not perish seemed to watch with curious care the Liions mid thoughts which flitted through the brain. It was now quite dark and I threw myself I upon my pallet and tried to sleep. Perhaps J .slept?1 know nut. Certainly there was an unusual noise in Ihe yard and one of lue I soldiers was speaking: 'The cursed grey horse we captured from I thai, rebel captain is broke loose again. Clean I gone, saddle and bridle and all." "No matler," said another, "I guess she won't go far. and I he lieutenant won't want her 'till the shooting's done." Thank God! thai Sultan was gone?gone from these loaruuding rascals. Would I hat he could fall Into ihe hands of the gallant Mosby ! I slept, soundly, and when I awoke il. was nearly day. There was still ihe anguish ol parting from her whom I so devotedly l.ved. Why does she not come? She cannot allow me to die wilhniil a word of farewell ! And yet il might, tor her dear sake, be heller so. f'U patienlly 1 walk up ami down Ihe room. !i. is broad daylight. There is a knock at the door: a corporal and a MI? of men await, me the hour lias come ! N'ol a muscle quivers. My step is firm. There shall be nothing in my de meanor unworthy of a soldier cf the Confede racy ! SHOT TO DKATll ! As I passed out cd the house, the faint edge oi the morning sun tipped Ihe horizon. lie. woods were Iresh ami green; the birds chirp* ed their matin hymn; ad nature was beautiful nutl serene. There, in frontofme, stand the tiring party. A mound ol earl h and a deep hole-I know what tor. Surely I do not need a coflln as long as that, which lies near where I soon shall lie ! In the brief space of time consumed in walking to t,ho spot where stand Lite llring party, a thousand thoughts and memories sweep through my brain. All tlto vows forgot and promises broken; the faults rising to the bulk of mountains; the good deeds sliritiklngfrom the range of vision. Again, In thought,' I am uiuTor the ruddy folds ol the llaz of tho South. Again I see the sabres flash. I hoar the ring of steel. The enemy break, and flee in confusion thromih the tangled woods. Charlie rides by lny side, as we otten rode before. 1 could swear that I heard, in the dislance, th? Bouud ot horses' hoofs. They wanted to lie my hands and bandage my eyes?that I could not bear. The first warm rays ol>the sun were shining on my head; I drank in the glorious light of Heaven. I could dm, bat not in bonds like a felon .' They worn twenty. I was alone, all alone. The olllcer in commaud?he who shot poor Charlie down?surlily granted my request, t he firing party was formed, and the rille b Ir rels glistened in the sun. I feared nothing, hoped nothing, but Instinctively a prayer would rise to my lips. With quickened pnlso i wajted. These last moments are as conturics of pam. Once more I thought i heard the clat tering rattle of hoofs. Then the word Reaoy I ? I held my breath. Aim !?my thought, An nie, Is oi God and thee. The ollleer opened Ida lips for the last time-. Thcru is a wild cheer nnd :i score 01 norse imm, pistol in hand, clad In the beloved grey, dasli iulo tii? yard. It was now man to mail, ami no favors asked, and in loss time than it takes to tell the lale, the Yankees worn fugi tives or prisoners. One man lay in ilie broad light; tho officer who commauded the tiring party was shot to death. And It seemed all a dream to me, until I heard Sultan's proud whlnney. and an arm stole around my nock, and sweet Annie's voice whispered?saved at last ! All the now comers were splendidly mount ed; each bl them wore a brace of army revol vers. One of them was addressed as Major. He rode n noble black horse, and the bright keen face, the lithe form, the cool decision" of his r~w brief words, ihe hat with its swopping leather?all marked him as tho fur-famed Mosby. i ongrutulutlng me heartily upon lny narrow escape, lie told mo thai Annie hail stolen away at night on my horse, aud had warned hiiti of my danger, when he had husil ly gathered u handful ol men together, and ar rived In the nick of time. There was no time to lose. All Ihe horse, foot and dragoons in Lecsbtirg would soon In: aller us. One of the captured horses was made ready tor Annie, f mounted Sultan, and, after a hasty visit to Charlie Vernon's grave, wo moved towards Uppervillc. Annie decid ed to remain with some friends In the I.ma y Valley. There I left her and returned to headquarters. No blame attached to me, bat I leurnedolterwarilsinaiil l hud succeeded in delivering rhat momentous dispatch the campaign ofisei would not have been fought. concmmon. Mori than two years had elapsed. The war was over. I had been hit twice or thrice, but had no reason to complain. Charlie Venion lay in Hollywood where wreathes of im nioiidles and garlands of bright summer (lowers caress Iiis modest tomb. And the girl whom he loved so madly ? Well, as tile husband Is the wife Is, and she's mated to n clown I As lor myself, I have given up all hetorodo.v. notions, and my dear wile, who Is looking over me. as 1 write, grumbling because I don't write more plainly, says that one modest paragraph Irom the Richmond Dispatch, which she lias carefully preserved, tells the sequel of my tide: Un the 1st iii^tsnt, at St. Paul's Church. Rich mond, by tho Rnv. Dr. Hinnlverode, Captain '. c. Beveriey. Into 0. & A., to Miss Annie l.ylo, of Kan qulcr county. Va. M IIS. WIMBUSirS REVENGE A S TOI: Y O 9 TU It ISE 0 BSTEMA Tl OKH. IN SIX CHAITKUS.?CKAtTKR 1. poor Mm. Marrables.! So young, loO?only slx-and-tliirty, and very little the worse for wear. A widow with the bloom oi youth siili upon her cheeks, (spiteful people, who aged faster, went so far as lo say Mrs. Marrables'.-. bloom was like the innnna oi the Israelites? "new every morning'"? but Ulis was malice,) flaxen hair, gray-blue eyes; a small-boned woman with a downy skin, and a figure, just plump and no more, which would wear for ever without spreading to obesity or middling up into wrinkles. She had a daughter oi eighteen, by name Matilda, less young, in proportion to her years, than herself. It is no ufiectatibn to say that the two' women would pass anywhere lor sisters?Mrs. Marrables as the elder by at most four or live years. A stranger would really beIncredulous us to the relationship between them being that, of mother and daughter. Such a mistake, when it Is made In favor of a woman who is old, and looks if, is said to be not unpleasant lo the omnivorous appetite for llattcry devel oped in some of the sex by advancing years: but to Mre/Marrobles it was most embarras* liig. Sho was not old; she did not look it; and the explanation Involved made the stranger suspect, her ol being older than she really was. But ler this, Mrs. Marrables might have mar ried long before. She was never invited out without her (laughter; ami whenever any eligible gentleman began to pay lier the slight est attention, some dear friend or other would be certain lo whisper: "That is Matilda's mother;" and of course there was on end ol it. II. must not be concealed that mother and daughter did not "hit it" very well together. Mrs. Marrables resented lier daughter's very existence, while Matilda could not but be scan dalized at having so youthful a mother. It was plain to Mrs..Marrables that, in order to lier own success in life, her daughter must be got rid of. People who arrive at such a deter mination in novels, too often resort to crime lo remove a person from their path. Hut Mrs. Marrables went to church twice every Sunday. At lost she married Matilda out of her way io j one Mr. ?imbiish, a most respectable reined corn-merchant of Illghgale. Poor Mrs. Mar rables! How basely did Matilda return her kindness. Twelve mouths aller her marriage, everybody read in ihe Times. "The wife "of Jetho Wiinbush, Esq., of a daughter." This was too much. A grandmother at thirty-six ! A youthful, singing, waltzing grandmother, whose very youtiUulnesR, taken in conjunction with allot unnatural desire to gel married ittrain, became a reproach in the eyes of all right-thinking people. " 'My dear, she is it grandmother," women would say to one another; ainl how decolUiil of her it- is lo look so young." "Carries three generations remarkably well/' said Ihn men; "but you know, old fel low, she must be Jolly old." CHAPTER H. Seventeen ye .rs passed away, and still Mrs. Marrtibles, to Ihe scandal of everybody, was as young as ever, or nearly so, lo all appearance, and ns single as ever, fit years she was fifty three, mid of course onght to have dressed for the part,, liut her whole manners, looting and appearance were in ludicrous deilaneu of her years, aud seemed palpably to refute l.lieiu. Ha l sin-done anything wicked in her youth? people whispered, and was il, a punishment? Was she a wandering Jewess ? How could she wear llaxcu huir and a chignon at her time of life ? It was indecent, improper, scandalous ! She might at least take to caps, with a gray front, ami corkscrew ringlets, and a piece of narrow black velvet across lier forehead, for the sake ot decorum. Then look at the way she dressed ! Always in the fashion, stream ing up the church aisles ou a Sunday, settling Itersilks and laces and ribbons like ? girl. As for her complexion. I heard one lady say : "fileasyon, it isn't paint, and it can't be en amel. I've fried iiul.li, and know how little wear I here is in eil her. The woman is pelri lled, oj|ulse embalmed. I'm sure ol I! , lor she uses horning but violet powder." Mrs. Miirnibles, or, us sue was commonly called, Mrs. Evergreen, was not even en gaged. There seemed a settled conviction In thti minds ol eligible suitors that, since a man may not many his own grandmother, the golden rule of "Do unto others" ought to for bid i hem from marrying other people's grand mothers, Besides, what a horrible thing i' was that tho woman wouldn't grow old ! it must be wicked, if 'twas real. Mrs. Marrables never forgave Matilda for making her a grandmother. But Matilda did not repeat the offene?. Mr. Wimbush died, leaving his widow a respectable, maintenance for herself and child. The child, Carry Wim bush, had ;pnt short dresses to shame when she was twelve. She ran up like a scarlet runner. She ran right through by express from childhood to womanrfbod. wilnout slop ping at the intermediate station of giridoin. At seventeen she was a grown woman of ma ture experience, who had given up lllriinjr for love, along with her other playthings, and was ready calmly to discuss au offer of marriage on the basis ol Us 'affording a good .ilrateglcal position In the battle of Hie. Here, therefore, we have Mrs. Wimbuali, a comely widow, with a daughter somewhat prematurely developed, on the one hand, and with a mother persistently iuvenile and ever green, on the oilier; Mrs. wlmbush and her daughter Carry living together in Whittlmr ton Lodge, HIghgale; Mrs. Marrables, the youthful and the ungraudmotherly, dwelling by herself at Taunton. and devoting her time to collecting subscriptions foi' different charitable objects, nut forgetting her own rent--. Mrs. YVimbush Seldom corresponded with her mother. They were on the best ol terms now. yet, by a sun 01 tacit understand ing, each pursued." Hie even tenor of her way, very rarely interchonslngcc?tacles by post. In the spring of 18(13, Mrs. Wiinbnsh .shut up her house in lll$rhguie, and came with her daughter to Bournemouth, where she hired a villa. Many of her friends .were slaying at Bournemouth, and. through the assistance oi parlies and jaunts, anil picnics ami balls, she made a great many more. Among these liio Bronkshunks must be specially noticed ;ts par ticularly Involved in this brief history. Old Urookshank, (so everybody called him,) a cheerful old person In thu shady side of six ty, was very rich, but very unpresentable, in the eye~i of the rather rigid socimy of the place, lie hail made his money by the inven tion of a patent medicine, familiar to us all by the name of Brookshank's Infallible Oint ment it brought him no end ol money. Bui. although he lived lu a grand house m u fush ibuabIU)Wuterlng-piacc. Re was stiii sole pro prietor of the .Infallible Ointment, and his London manufactory and depot was yet. in fill working, with "Brookshnnk'1 over the door, and pictures of people with sore limbs i all dver the windows. All this, society might i have winked at?might have admitted him within Its doors upon sufferance, and pro tended never to wako to the notion of a 'Granger present. In the gallery." But llio worst of o d Br?oksh?nk wit:?, iluit net con tent v.iiii living on ointment, he talked Oint ment always. and puffed ii. everywhere. It. was nqt hypocrisy: tile man be lie veil in il. heart and soul, lie said he had a sacred mission to alleviate Hie woes ol mankind, at thirteen pence-halt penny the box; and he ! meant it. He believed iu all his testimonials - more devoutly than the writers could have j done. He was conscientiously ot opinion Hint I hlsulntuien was. us he said, "good lor every mortal complaint, Inside or out." He carried bills With him everywhere, and distributed I I hem ns zealously us though they had been tracts. ''Shall t cease," said lie, "while a sin gle fellow-crcaluro suffers agony that lean cure?*' Society could not stand this;for the man would have distributed his bills in every : ball-room and at every soiree, and .never rest ed till each guest was supplied with a picture ol had legs and a siring of testimonials. He believed iu his mission as much as Mohammed did. He said he had committed many sins in Ins life lime, but he trusted the good nls oint ment had done to suffering humanity might, be taken into account, when they were reckon ed up. The ointment was Ids creed?the ointment his extreme unction. Brookshank's sisler.keptU* house; n Hille faib'd old maid, whobellev< d lu-him its inueh as he did In hlinsell; who would uiov? soll?y in his presence, Irow a reverend regard Lu the great healer of I he people; who would place his hist published lesUiuoulals in her hymn book,-und read them ou Sundays witti every appearance of devouthesa?offering op thanks irom lier simple heart. lor the sfOOd works he had been u abliHl to do; Brookshunk had two sons, both gelling; on toward middle ai?e. Thomas, tlio eldenc, it survenu with :? 'capital pracUce, usiii hi declare.tlutt half hi.s cases among the poor u e;-e thosu of people suf fering from I he effects of the Infallible Oint ment; though of course he only said so louw-c h'sauul, Iiis brother, Charles, was a lawyer of good position und good circumstances. Neither was married; people said they were nut marrying men. What blunders people make, sometimes, on tbis score. ciiAnvit m. It was strangn wind, an Impression .Mrs. Wlmbush seemed to make on those two men. She met them everywhere, and thu attentions they paid her were plainly marked by some thing wanner than politoiiess. Presents, too j ? lluwcrs and hot-house trull?found their way bot ii from Mr. Tom and .Vir. Charles to thu widow's table. Ol the two. Mr. Tom was by lar the most iu earnest. Yet she loured to en courage eil her, and for some lime preserved an altitude of strict neutrally between the rival powers, and could conscientiously report j thai she was on terms ol t he closest friendship 'with each of the belligerents; the fact being that the key of her Impartiality was less a mai ler of stmtinicnt than a d?sire to ascertain the relaiive standing of the two brothers In ihe ; eyes of I heir lather with regard to tilture con tingencies. ii was nol long before she had an opportu nity of satisfying herself on this point;. The slnoero admiration she prcicSRtl for the In fallible Ointment made obi brookshank's sis ter, her sincere Irlend for life, and Mrs. Wlm bush became a visitor at I he big house. She soon found lliai, old Brookshaiik had a bad opinion of his eldest son. Tom. Partly, |eal ousy of a man who professed lit- art oI neal ing as derived Irom books, and express!*! scepticism as to the Inspiration of the oint ment, ami partly distrust of a man who might Hud oui ils sacred ingredients, and hold ihetu up io public derision, contributed to his b id opinion. Tom was a heretic, und an unbe liever in the Urookshank creed?a scoffer at the best ruithentlcated testimonials?and held the government stump in open contempt. Charles was not t?. Hard man of law though he wa", he consumed quanLiUes ot the ointment, or prolessed to do so. and always said it did him good. Mrs. Wlm bush would lalk ointment by tho hour with old Urookshank, and consequently became a great favorite, besides gollliijj the credit lor being a most discriminating woman. The old man would even go so taras to show her his unpublished testimonials, and produce great bundles oflelters in praise ol hlinsell and med icine. These the widow would peruse with an exhibition of rapt interest, which was certain ly very edifying Working on the confidence so obtained, she gathered very clearly that the younger sou would inosl likely come in lor the largest share of the unguent property. Thai being satisfactorily ascertained, .Mrs. Wlm bush wanned perceptibly in her manner in ward Mr. Charles, the lawyer, and Irozo In llie same proportion in thu aspect she preseuteil 10 Mr. Tom, I lie doctor. The result was some thing of an estrangement between the bintn ers. Tom felt ihe irealmenr, but delennined to know his l'aie. H" came 10 the widow's house, ami. vvlih rery little preface, made lier an offer?plump. Beally, Mr. Tom,'? said Mrs. Wlmbush, ' you entirely surpriso me. Surely, I eau have given you no encouragement to?to hope? tiii-.t?-" '.Mrs. Wiinbu-li." .said Mr. Tom, *".7o are neit her of us chickens." (the widow winced.) "although, doubtless, I am a good deal the older ol the two. I am nor sentimental, not romantic; so pardon my plain s|N.-aking. With regard to encouragement, you have given me quite enough m justify my puffing the ipies lion?not enough, perhaps, to warrant my ex |M!Cllng a favorable answer. Tin- plain question is, Will you marry me, Tom Ihookshiink. .' !. I)., aged forty-two??a man, though 1 say it. who wont make a bad husband, as husbands go." The widow looked down, nn.1 twisted her handkerchief around her lingers, plait ng i. in knots upon her lap. but did no. reply. Mr. Tom looked Into bis lie.! ami then onl ol the window. Then ii" said: P.tr.lmi me; am I loo late? is there a prior attachment?" Without venturing a reply hi speech. Mrs. Wiinbnsh bowed her head Mr. Tom slowly gat hered together his hat, bis siiok and his iloves, aud went oui. dm lound iliiti brolherol mineP'said hetoT.lm self when be go! Into ihe "Always supplanting me. CHAPTER It was a large picnic party. M'-. Charles Brookshauk had drawn Mrs. Winibush's an ; through hii own, and swolh'd nway t'roiu llio re?!. "How delightful it would be It on3 could know the language of birds, as folks did lu the old Hindoo fairy tales ! Would It not, Mr. Brookshank ?" "My dear Mrs. Wimbush, they do nothing the whole day long but make love and cry, 'Swe?r, sweet !' I woi.ld I were a bird, to make love In music." The widow sighed, b it was more like a purr of pleasured "What, kid I know of love till you came here?" continued; Mr. Charles. Absolutely nothing?"except," he added with r?servation, "in aprolesslonal way. And then we lawyers generally see the dark side of the picture?the damages and the decrees nisi But vour visit has brightened my whole life. 0, Mrs. Wira bush. you cannot have been blind to my secret. You huve seen it written legibly in my face, and have not interposed to cheek Its develop ment. I see you understand me, just as by inntitive line, leelln? you can penetrate the meaning of Mendelssohn's songs, without words. Mrs. Wimbush, you huvo already far advanced toward learning the birds' language I may rely upou your cotisent?" "Chartes, this happiness is Indeed too much," fjaculatedthe widow; "You need notu be separated from your daughter Carry. A homo Tor one is a homo for both; and I will cherish nor while I live." Bur.. Charles, dear, she may marry." "Marry, ma'am ? Bless my .soul, of course she will She will marry mo! She has said SO, don'r. you see ?" Mrs. Wimbusli ntvorsaid another word, but fell il.it down upon ibe grass; "What on eartn has trot into the woman ?" thought Mr. Charles. " "She could'ot have taken it worse if I had proposed to murder her daughter. In their walk they lied strayed through tho treus'close to the outskirts of another picnic party. Mr- Charles immediately ran to ask soiii? loir volunteer to come to the assistance ot Urs. Wimbusli. who had falnlcd. At hear ing the- name, an active, middle-aged holy sprung up and followed him. It was Mrs. Marrables. The sight ol her mother brought Mrs. Wimbush round quickerthauany amcll iug-boftle could have done. She sat up. Mother, , Mr. Brookshank ; Mr. Brook shank, my mother, Mrs. Marrablus." They bowed. ' Have rhu'goodness to leave us to gether, Mr. Charles."' lie uowecfand obeyed. "Mother," said Mrs. Wimbusli, "what en earth brought you hero ? I thought you were at Tuunton." "No dear. I have been at. Bournemouth three weeks. I eatue-merely for change. Only last week I heard of your being here, and should have came, bill J havo been so much occupied, and 1 tell sure ol meeting you some where, and thought the siir-nris-tmight be the more agreeable. We've had a most delightful picnic Cvii.li the llountstewart folks. But what, was all Uds fuiiuiugaboui? Ouo would tnin:; Mr. Brooksliauk had been proposing to you." "lie certainly made me a \trop08uL, mother, but I was quite unprepared for it, and was overcome.'* "What an imaginative and sensitive-minded girl you must be. Matilda ! You make me feel quite young. When will.von he old enough to attend to bnsihess? You will accept him, of course ? Well, do as you please; yoir may reckon on my consent, you know. But I must get back to my party, and perhaps you had belter rejoin yours Ta-ta." Jilted lor her daughter ! It wasn't pleasant. When Mrs. Wimbusli got homo she blew up Carry for being so sly. "Well, mamma," said Carry, "of course 1 thought you knew all about, it. 1 never made any secret ot the a Hair. I knew very well tliitr you had rejecled Mr Tom, bid I could not possibly suppose that was any reason why I should refuse Charles. Of course, he is older than I am, but he is only fivc-and-lliirly, and has a good position; ami I tun sure we shall always give you a welcome; Charles said so." Well." thought Mrs. Wimbusli. "he has money, and li will be all in the family; that's at iea.ii. a comfort.'' UUAPTKB \\ Tito effect of the little episode of the last chapter was that tho brothers were made friends, and Tom recovered his spirits, and could laugh heartily at what ho had before supposed was his brother's rivalry. Mr.-;. Wimbusli repeuted her Hint sin? had re jeeted Mr. Tout, lier repentance produced a suliiiar) desiru ou her paiiJo make'alouemer.t for the past. She would have him yet. When a widow says so much us that about a man, Id him 'ware the Imsvk. A motu h went by, and behold Mrs. Wim busli ami Mr. Tom Brookshank sealed tete-a Lete at mi evening party, where the music which was going on was suCicleiitly loud to render private conversation inaudible save to those to whom it was addressed. ' I fear," said tho widow, tuTcctlng an ab sei) I; matitier, [ treated you very unkindly, Mr. Tom. You look me so entirely by sur prise, that, reiMly, I?hardly know what I said. 1 have been very unhappy about it? very." Forgotten anil lorglven," whispered Mr. Toni. How generous of you; you make me so glad: because, now that your brother Charles is going to' marry my daughter, we shall be in some sort related, and 1 could not bear you to think unkindly of me." No," said Mr.- Tom, fidgeting a little; "f shall never do lhat." 'How droll !" said I ho widow. "Let me see. ?'bat will tho relationship be ? You will be my son-in-law's brother, and consequently I shall be your mother-in-law once removed. You will'have a mother younger than yourself, Mr. Tom. 1 hope you will not presume upou her youth to l>e a bad boy." "All this is very ue," he ansive-ed; "but 1 see Lhe relationship In a tar lUff -it iighL 1 sli&ll be your tuiher-in-law, and consequently my own brother's grnnillailier-in-law." "Yoti mistake, Mr. Tom. Dou't you see Unit if Carry"? "No mistake at all about it, ma'am, for I've, promised to marrv your mother. Mrs. Msr ntbles !" "Monster," cried Mrs. Wimbusli aloud, and went oil' shrieking. The music stopped, and (here was a great fuss. But above "all the others was heard lhe voice of Mrs. Marrables. "Don't be alarmed, pray. She is subject to it; she went ofl'Jusl. like' it tho other day at a picnic. Poor young Urine, very little upsets Iter. Let me come to ray ill lie gu-tirl theu." They moved her into another room. Pres ently Mrs. Wimbusli opened her eyes. ' Moth er! ITow dare you come near-mo ! Go away, do ! You ought to be ashamed of yourself at your time ol life !" "Mil time of life ! Why, I'm only fifty-fotu* ?about ten years older limn Tom. iiow can you talk so to your mother ?" "Mother, if you don't leave l he room, 1 will. It's really disreputable to have you lor a moth er. You've never done me any credit." My dear; I am so glad In think you feel well enough to leave Ute room, that t will re main." Mrs. Wimbusli got up ami won; home. ^ CnAPTKU VI. Jilted, first for her daughter, anil next, for her mether: This was too much. Mrs. Wim bush went to Church as regular as any one, but revenge, alter all, Is very sweet. Six weeks afterward, Mrs Wimbush recov ered sitUicicnt fortitude lo go and call on her mother. Well,child, I'm glad you are going tob? friendly; theru In noihlng like harmony In a family circle. Let us consider the reiation rdtlpsinto which wenre about to enter, thai we may rightly Judge of our responsibilities anil duties. I and my granddaughter are going io marry i wo brothers?I he consequence Is, plu; and t will l.esisters-in-law. Bur. ns you are mother to my slsier-bi-law, you will nearly be my nioihorrin-law, which is nrvery singular relationship for a rianuhter to sustain toward her mother, especially when she is not I ho wife ol one's fttiher-iti-lnw. Now. as'1 Wait.a moment, dear mamma; I've news lor you; I'm going to marry old Onguent ! Old Mr. iSiiiukshattk has asked tao to be his wile, and I've consented. The consequence Is, I sln-il be head or I he family, nnd bona ?in molli er-ln-hiw to you tali. I don't think we need trouble siboitt htirninny, for v.o shall be a Uiiifv?JhiiiUff, more so iliap. any I know off." Ueiorc her marriage, Mrs. idarrable? set to work lo draw up a fable of the relationships involved by the ili reo weddings, i; isan ex tensiv? work In three volume*, and when our readers see TheJirookshank Ftimi'ij a?vori la nd, they will know what it means.?Olvtinbers'* ? A new ticket printing trachine, v.-iiich ha! jm-theen patented In Engmml and Prussia, piints railway tickets on both side?, perforate! them, and numbers them consecutively i>.\ one juoeos?. and doc3 all this at lhe rah; o two hundred a minute. THE ZONDOXlCLVB HOUSES. Wondrous Splendnr^and Luinrjr. Club life has attained itslgrcateat perfection in London. No.'cityiupon the continent can jj j compare with It for ihe number of Its club- . houses, the splendor of their architecture, their | luxurious furniture, aad the standing In society of their members. There are upwards of fifty -3 clubs In London, in which all the profession? g and all the stations of life find representation, with a roll of perhaps 45,000 members. The folio win <: are the principal clubs, with the cost of ground and construction: Army and Navy Olub, George's street, it. I James Square, 1450 members, ?100,000 (1500,- " 000;) the Conservative Club. St James street, l5uu members, ?81,000; G?rrlck Club, King | street, Covent Garden, 600 members. ?35.000; ; Junior United Service Club, corner of diaries *'; and Uegent streets, '1500 members, ?76,000; i Oxford and Cambridge Club, Pall Mali, 1200 members, ?100,000; Reform Club, 1400 mem- . Iiers, ?120,000; University Club, Pall Mall East, 3 f>00 members, ?20,000; Wyndham Club, St. j James Square, 600 members, ?30,000;' West- I minster, Alb'ermarle street, 610 members, ?15.000; Atheomum, Pall Mall, 1300 members, a ?00,000; Carlton, Pull Mall, 800 members, ?10,- 1 lino: CJnards Hall, Pall Mall, 600 members, M ?40.000; Oriental, Hanover. 800 members, -fE ?:J.0,000 ^Travellers', Pall Mall, 700 members, '9 XUO.OOO; Union, Cockepur street, 1000 mem- M tiers, ?25,000; United Service Club, Pall Mall, '1 1.-.00 members. ?70.000; White's Club, St. } James street. 550 members, ?15,000; Caven- - dish.Ciub, 207 Regent street, 500 members, ?111.000, and Civil Service Club, 86 St. -James street, 1000 members. ?45,000. Each member is elected by ballot, and pays ? an entrance on admission, and afterward an 5 annual subscription, which varies, like en trance ices, in different clubs. Thus In the Athenicum the entrance iee is ?26 5sr, about $1^0, annual subscription ?6 Cs., 131. When clubs were first started they were re carded with much hostility ub being antago nistic to domestic life, and the ladles displayed . an Intense sprirlt against them. The clubs, however, survived and nourished under their enmity, and it was found lhattbey discouraged coarse drunkenness, the prevalent Vice ot I Englishmen; encouraged social Intercourse, of ; which ladies partook elsewhere; refined the manners of the members, constituted courts of honor, and tended most materially toj.the ilu; manufacture of gentlemen. Tho London clubs are private hotels on a vast and magnificent scale. They have bil liard ; rooms, coffee rooms, nlnepln rooms, splendid libraries, saloons, furniture and plate, cf the costliest and rarest description. All the refreshments: which a member has, whether breakfast, dinner, supper or wine, are furn ished to him at the market cost price, alt other J expenses being defrayed from tho annual sub- I scripi ions. For a few pounds a year advanta- s res are to be had which no incomes but tho most ample could procure. The Athenaeum, ' which consists of twelve hundred members, can be taken as a good example of the rest. * Among the members may be reckoned a large proportion of the most eminent persons In ? Euirland-civil and military and ecclesiastical? peers, spiritual and temporal, commoners, men of the learned' professions, those connec ted with the sciences and arts and commerce, as well as th? distinguished who do not belong to any particular class, and who have nothing to do but ltve on their means, bore their lallors, and admire their family genealogy and . their own figures. These men are to be met with day alter day at tho clubs, living with wore freedom and nonchalance than they could at their own houses. For six or eight guineas ($30 to $40) a year every member has the command of an excellent library, with maps, the daily London papers, English and foreign periodicals, and every material far writing, with a flock of gorgeous flunkies in powder and epnulettes to attend at the nod of a member, and a host of youthful pages In but tons and broadcloth. The club Is a sort ot palace with the comfort of a private dwelling, ami every member Is a master without having a master's trouble. He can have whatsoever meat or refreshment served up at all hours - with luxury and dispatch. There is a fixed place for everything, and It Is not customary to remain long at table. You can dine alone, or you can invite a dozen persons to dine with you, females being excluded. From an ac count kept tu. the Alhenseum for one year, it appears that 17,333 dinners cost on an average 2s. o.Jd. each (about CS cents.) and the average quantity of wine drank by each person at these dinners was a small fraction: more than a : pint each. The bath accommodations are the finest (hat can be imagined. The kitchens of the London clubs cannot be equalled in the world; aud the chief cooks, who have charge of the kitchen?, have each a European fame. Alexis Soycr,' the greatest cook since Ude or Vatel, hnd lor a long time the charge of the kitchen ol the Reform Club, and the kitchen of their club, of which John Bright and all the leaders of I he English Liberals are members, is the finest In London. There Is a cheerful air, an air of raagnltl cence about these superb kitchens which would charm a good-housewife. Here "all the genius which can be brought to bear upon cooking is concentrated; and the head cook would not deign lo notice any person of less rank than a baronet while in superintendence. Although there are 1200 members, he Is not responsible to any individual one, and the only authority In the club to which he has to bow Is the eight or ten members of the house committee, whose decrees even to this being are arbitrary. The pots and pans are of an exceeding brightness, and the entire system Is perfect. In one corner of the kitchen Is a little stall, or counting-house, at the desk of which sits the clerk of the kitchen. Every day the chlel cook provides, besides ordinary pro visions, which are certain to be required, a se lected list which lie iuserts In. his bill of fare? a list which is* lei I to Ids judgment and skill. 8ny three or four.gentlemen, members ol tho club, determine to dine there at a given hour; lhey select from the bill of fare, or make a separate order*' it preferred, or leave the dinner altogether to the Intellect of the chef, who 1s sure to be flattered by this dependence on his judgment. A little slip of paper, on which are written the names of the dishes and the hour ot dining, Is hung on a hook in the kitchen, ou a blackboard, where there are a number of books devoted to different hours of the day or evening. The cooks proceed w?th i.heir ordinary avocations, and by the time the dinner is ready the clerk ol the kitchen has calculated aud entered the exact value of every article composing it, which entry Is mode ont in the form of ? bill?the cost price being Huit by which the charge is regulated; nothing is ever charged for the cooking. Im mediately at ihe elbow of the clerk are bells and speaking tubes, by which he can commu nlcntu with the serrants in other parts of the building. Meanwhile a steam engine is serving up" the dinner. In one corner of kitchen is a recess, on opening a door In which we gee b small platform, square-shaped, cal culated lo hold an ordinary size tray. This platform is connected with the shall of a steam engine by bauds and wheels, so as to be ele vated through a kind of vertical trunk leading to the upper part ?i the building, and here are the white aproned servants or waiters ready to take out. the hot and luscious-smelling viands from the platform to the member or members of ihe club who me anxiously awaiting dinner. ?Tue cactus fence is au institu?on peculiar lr> Mexico. Tlfe variety of the plant used for this purpu.se is called the organo. It la eJght sided, and shoots upstrargfat as an arrow, from teu to twenty-live feet in heigh: and five tu eight inches "in thickness The lence-bullders cut Ihe cretas in sections ot the right length, stick the cut end into a trench, cover the earth around it, in the depth ol n foot, and the lence Is made. The pieces are set as closely together us possible, nnd as they lake root and grow for Centuries, Hie fence improves with age, iu steud of going to decay like other lences. A gentleman asked a clergyman thefcseof his pulpit lor a young divine, a relative ol his. I'rraby do not know," said the clergyman, ' how lo refuse yen; but if ihe young man can preach belter (ban 1 can, my congregatloa would he dissatisfied with nie atterwards; and if he should preach worse, I don'i think he Is lit in preach at'all." I ?Sunday and Saturday, the two favorite days for marriage in England, are blank days i lor marriage in' Scotland. Friday .is the day on which the English do not marry; but In f I Scotland it is one of tho favorite "days lor marriage.