^ (3. QycTic^f. cPrr 
 
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 j:t-ie 
 
 CAMP FOLLOWER 
 
 COM'AIMKC THK rot.LOWtNG STORIES 
 
 the: o c> c 
 
 Bl 1^^ T 
 
 CMIT : 
 
 THE WIFE'^^STRAJWGEM, 
 
 HOW ! C(!^\^5:D ^al_^ 
 
 THE CHAMPION. ^ 
 
 WHAR NO WOOD IS, THAR THE FIRE GOETH OUT, 
 
 Ami many othcv Tluinniudns Sketches, Anqcdolea, Poetry, etc. 
 designed for the 
 
 AMI8KMENT OF THE VkM. 
 
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 I T H K i; \ 1- I K T, n A \ 1) I' I n K s I I) ir o I- 1-^ <*•: , • 
 
 iMiii.isiiicn nv 
 .STOCKTON & C 0. 
 
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 P K E F A C E. 
 
 4 >\ %^ 
 
 The Publisher of tbis Volume Id offering it to the pab' . desire? to say that bis principal 
 object is to (urcish to the Confedseate Soldiers an opportunity of relioving the dull 
 moaotony of camp life, and of enjoying, in the peruS'! of its pages, af least a temporary 
 mental recreation. The eo -.tents have been selected with especial r- ^--ard to this object ; 
 and if they can serve to smooth one wrinkle from the brow of Cii.\. or add one moments' 
 eojoyment to the lives of our brave defk.vders, the Publisher wiil congratulate himself that 
 ke has not labored in vain. 
 
 With these preparatory remarks, he submits it to the Pubwo generally and to tb:? 
 S0LDIER.S particularly, hoping that it will attain the object for which it is published. 
 
 Respectfully, 
 
 Thb Pi/BMsasR. 
 
 3439G9 
 
% ♦ 
 
-^j;: r 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 POLITICS DEFINED. 
 
 " Mine neighbor, Wilhehn. what yo 
 [ik of bolitics, hey ?" asked Peter Vo 
 
 tiuk of bolitics, hey ?" asked Peter Von 
 Slug of his neighbor, Yon Sweilzell, 
 the Twelfth Ward blacksmith, one even- 
 ing, as he seated himself besidu him i!i 
 a "Bierhaus." 
 
 ''I tinks much," said Svveitzell, giv- 
 ing bis pipe a long wjiifiT. 
 
 "Veil, what you tinks ? " 
 
 "I come to der conclusiou <l:u uliiics 
 is one big fool." 
 
 "Ah !" exclaimed Pete, after taking 
 a draught from his mug, "how do you 
 make him dat ?'' 
 
 "Veil, mine frien', I tell you,-' replied 
 - \veitzell, after afew whifi's and a drink, 
 L comes to dis place ten years last 
 evening by der Dutch Almanac, mit 
 mine blacksmit shop. I bnilds fine little 
 house, I puts up mine bellers. I make 
 mine fire, I heats mine iron. I strikes 
 mit mine hammer, I gets blenty of work 
 in, and I' makes mine monish."' 
 
 "Dat ish goot,^" remarked Pete, 'and 
 demanded that the drained mug be re- 
 (illed. 
 
 "I say that I g' >i much friends," con- 
 tinued Wilhelm, relighting his pipe^ 
 "Der beeplee all say Vi n Sweitzell bees 
 a good man ; he blows in der morning, 
 he strikes in der night, and he minds 
 his business. So dey spraken to me 
 many times, and it makes me feel much 
 ^oot here," slapping his breast. 
 
 "Yah, yah, dat ish gooter," remarked 
 Pete who was an attentive listener. 
 
 "Veil, it goes aloag dat way tree year. 
 Tree ! Let me see, von year I make 
 tree hundred dollar, dor next tree hoon- 
 dred an' fifty, der next fnur hundred 
 
 and swonzy, and uer next five hoondred 
 tollar. Dat make live year. Veil, I 
 bees ht-re five year, when Old Mike der 
 watchman, who bees such a bad man 
 comc^ to me and !io say, Sweitzoll vot 
 make yoa work so hard ? To make 
 monish I tell h\\\\. 1 dells you ho.v you 
 make him quicker as dut, he say. I rt.^!- 
 him how, an' he dells me to go into bo! 
 itics, and get big (.ffico. I laugh r't him 
 ven lie dells me daf Shake, der l.iwycr, 
 vat make such liiirty speeches .ibout 
 Fad('rland,becsg(>in to run for Gongress 
 and dat Phako, der lawyer, de]l>; him to 
 dell me, if I would go among der ' • le-s 
 and dei! them to vote mit Lin; .. der 
 while, he would put me into vm big 
 office, where I makes twenty tousand 
 tollars a year." 
 
 "Twenty tousand, mine Got I" ex- 
 claimed Pete, thunderstruck. 
 
 "Yali, twenty tousaud. Well, by 
 shinks, I must stop der strikin' an' goes 
 to mine friens, an' tell der Yarraans vote 
 for Shake, and Shake bees elected to der 
 Gongress." 
 
 Here Mynheer Von Sweitzell stopped'? 
 took a long draught of beer and fixing' 
 his eyes on the floor, puffed as if in deep 
 thought. 
 
 "Veil mine neighbor, -'' said Pete, after 
 waiting a due length of time for him to 
 resume, "vat you do den, hey ?" 
 
 "Veil, I*ask Mike, der swellhead 
 watchman,. for der office, an' he dells me 
 I gets him der next year. I waits till 
 after d^n- next krout making time, an' 
 den I say again, 'Mike, ven vill Shake 
 give me dut twenty tousand tollar office?' 
 'In two year, sure,' he say, 'if you work 
 for der barty.' Veil, I stop a blowin' 
 
 343969 
 
THE e-AMP FOLl'rOV.'SR, 
 
 mil mine bcllcrs agin, an • blow two 
 wj fnv flni' bartv mio mine moo 
 
 asked 
 
 years for dcr barty mifc mine mout, 
 '■'Two years mit your moufc ?" a 
 Pete in astonishment. 
 
 '■'Yaw, two year. Den again I go to 
 Mike, dcr swellhead watohmans, an' 
 ■dell him der twenty tousand tollar about j 
 an' be dells me in one more year I gets • 
 him sure. I dinks he fools me, yet I 
 blow foi dcr barty anudder year, an' i 
 den vot you dinks ?" 
 
 "Pinks ! Vy, you yits him twenty , 
 tMisand dollar." ; 
 
 -'Gits him ! Py thinks, Mike, der j 
 swellhead watohmans dells me I bees j 
 von big fool, an' dat I might go to der 
 bad place au' eat sour krout. 
 "He tell you dat ?" . 
 "Yaw. Sure as my name bees Von 
 Sweitzell." 
 
 "After you do der blowing mit your 
 mout for der barty ?" 
 "Yaw." 
 
 "Mine Got ! vat you do den, my 
 iohbor ?" ' . 
 
 ' I make a fire in mine blacksmit 
 I blows my own hellers again. I 
 mine own iron, and strikes mit 
 \vn hammer. I say to myself 
 Von Sweitzell, " bolitics bees 
 and boKticians bees a bigger j 
 elm Von Sweitzell, do your j 
 T,nd let boliticians do ders." i 
 Ue thought he had come j 
 'usion, and after wishing 
 ick to politicians — that 
 "i patriotism and integ- 
 ocket — they ordered 
 again refilled and 
 
 Mrs. Pal'tiagton wants to know why 
 Captains d'jn't have their ships properly 
 nailed in port, instead of waiting to tack 
 them at sea. 
 
 snop, 
 heiits . 
 mine o 
 WilheTm 
 a humbttg", 
 von. Wilh, 
 own blowin' . 
 Neighbor P 
 to a wise conci 
 ^k^U sorts of bad Iv 
 clii^B of men who6\ 
 rity lie in their p 
 their mugs to be 
 changed the topic «f 
 
 conversation. 
 
 POT POI 
 
 *1UI. 
 
 'dresser — Cut 
 
 Punch's motto for a iiaii 
 and come again ! 
 
 Arrangements are being |. 
 St. Louis for buildiag a fine op 
 to hold 3,500 persons, to h&^ 
 October next. 
 
 perfected in 
 
 era house 
 
 ■vished in 
 
 A gay contraband at Beaufort told a 
 iKiwspaper correspondent that she was 
 the wife of the officers of a Massachu- 
 setts regiment- 
 
 "What was the use of the eclipse '{ ' 
 asked a young lady. "Oh, it gives the 
 sun time for reflection," replied the wag- 
 
 A philosopher who married a vulgai^, 
 but amiable girl, used to call his wife 
 brown sugar, because, ho said, she was 
 sweet, but unrefined. 
 
 The dabbling of uneducated Congress- 
 men with Press exemptions, reminds us 
 of the Irishman who attempted to snuff a 
 gas burner with his fingers. 
 
 The population of Columbia, S. C, aas 
 increased within the last two years 
 nearly one hundred per cent. It 
 amounts at this time to about twenty 
 thousand. 
 
 The three rules given by tlio celebra-'' 
 ted John Hunter for the rearing of 
 healthy children, were : "Plenty of milk 
 plenty of sleep, and plenty of flannel.',j 
 
 "A soft answer turneth away wrath ," 
 as the woman said when she quarrelled 
 with her husband, and threw a, bag oi 
 feathers on his new Sunday suit. . i 
 
 Pretty Attention. — The Baron 
 Rothschild had the Colosseum at Rome 
 brilliantly illuminated with Bengal lights 
 to gratify the Baroness. 
 
 Letters found in Soain and recently 
 published in Froud's History of England 
 prove beyond question, if they are gen^ 
 nine, that Mary Queen of Scots, design 
 ed and caused the death of Darnley 
 her husband. 
 
 "Hallo, Fred ! What you writin 
 poetry ? " 
 
 iiyaKi^^ 
 
 ■**»■ 
 
 'imA 
 
THB CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 "Ye*," gaid Fred, -'I am writing au 
 ode (owed) to my tailor."' 
 "What's the time and tune,"" said Tom, 
 "Time, sixty days," said Fred, "and 
 
 it is set to ijntes of jainp in iiis posses- 
 sion." 
 
 Loiif bread i.s becouung- .small by de- 
 grees and beautifully loss, if we are to 
 judge tbeir size by the one which a 
 blacksmith, named John Daan. pnrchas- 
 Wl f .II- fifty cents, and on a sniall wager, 
 ate at two mouthfnls. This feat occurr- 
 eS at a smith's shop, at the Navy De- 1 
 partment, and is voneh»Hl for by several 
 eye witnesses. 
 
 A C^uD Way to End tiif. War.— Not ' 
 long' ago <mc of our vidert.es f^a-'t of tiie | 
 city was crawlin;; cantiuu>ly through the 
 buphcs fin a trip of investigation, look- 
 ing out for bushwhackers. He thought 
 he heard a nois'\ and concluded he could 
 gobble a rebel in just no time. As he 
 crept up over a log on one .side, a hairy 
 butternut individual crawled up on the 
 other, coiifronting him, and n^t more 
 than a yard ofl'. Both parties .stopped 
 stiHjk still. "Just like a frozen statue," 
 for fnlly a minute when Guerrilla broke 
 the silence, thus : 
 
 'Hello, Yank ! Ye thought ye would 
 ketch this chicken napping didn't ye ?" 
 
 Fed. What arc you crawling- around 
 in the bushes, like a snake in the grass 
 for y Thought you'd fool somebody, 
 (fidn't ynu ? Come along with me, old 
 fellow ! 
 
 Oonfed. N(j you dnut. You come in 
 out of the wet A-ith uic.- You are my 
 prisoner ! 
 
 ^ Fed. Prisoner be blowed ! I'll bet 
 you ten dollars in greenbacks against 
 Cmifederate notes, even, that you are 
 my prisoner." 
 
 Confed. I'll do it, lay your ten spot 
 on the log, I will cover it. If I don't 
 take you into camp you can win my 
 pile. 
 
 The stakes were put up, when the 
 
 question how to decide the matter came 
 up. Finally,' a game ofseveaupwas 
 agreed upon, th^^ first ten points to take 
 the stakes, and the other as a prisoner. 
 The necessary pack was pi educed, whero- 
 upon they both sat astride the log", and 
 played a lively game of ohl sledge. 
 Another vidette came up soon after and 
 took them both int<j custody, and broke 
 up tlie game, and th(.' day before yester- 
 day the Confederate chap was sent out 
 \f^th a party of other prisoners to be ex- 
 changed. — Memphii< Bulletin.' 
 
 An Irish bard wrote some verses a 
 long time ago entitled, "The Fittest 
 Place for Man to Die." We know not 
 them all, but the following noble senti-^ 
 ment occurred in them : 
 
 Whether on the scaffold hiiili. 
 
 Or in the battle's van ; 
 The fittest place for man to die. 
 Is whore ho dies for man. 
 
 The following i.^ "a palpable hit" a^^ 
 producers who " wouldn't acknowledge 
 the corn." 
 
 Sohie patriotic Tai'mers in some counties of 
 
 this State, 
 Resolved they'd f^ell tlieir pro^hire at the Gov- 
 
 cnnncut rate ; 
 But when the people wished to buy, 'tvyas 
 
 fodni] out, .<5ad to tel!, 
 That the.-e 'patriotic fannor.V hadn't auythiHo; 
 
 to sell ! 
 
 A Mr. Shott and a Mr. Willing had a 
 duel in which both were wounded. This 
 circumstance gave rise to the following 
 I lines: 
 
 1 Shott and Willing did engage. 
 1 In d'leJ finrce and hot ; 
 
 j Shott .sbot Williug. williii^^v, 
 And Williii"^ he phot .Shott. 
 The shot Shott slot made Willing quite 
 
 A spectacle to .see, 
 While Willing's willinjf shot went right 
 Through Scott's anatomy. 
 
 The wag of the Mississippian says tlje 
 proceedings of Mr. Foote, sometimes 
 called Confederate Congiess, are just 
 now very dull. 
 
THE CAM!' FOLLOWER. 
 
 Panch Ba.ys some kind little niiiliners 
 luve, of their scant earnings, subscribed 
 in aid of the victims of Warsaw. This 
 is, indeed, a pretty iiiustration of the 
 needle beiijg trtie to'tlie Pok-. 
 
 Pecidehly Cool. — When Wright's 
 Greorgia regiment wa.s drawn up in line 
 of battle to go into its first fight in North 
 Carolina, Wright in passing his regi- 
 ment observed a tall, gianffellow with a 
 violin case strapped to his back. 
 Wright asked him what he was going 
 to do with his fiddle ? The rude soldier 
 had never heard of Mirabeau's dying 
 exclamation, but he almost quoted it 
 ^hen he said he wanted to " die to the 
 aound of Betay," this being the term of 
 endearment which he applied to his 
 violin. 
 
 After the fight was over the fiddling 
 soldier did not answer at roll call. He 
 was found with a broken leg at the foot 
 of a tree, to which he had crawled, qui- 
 etly sawing the strings of Betsy. 
 
 When Jas. T. Brady first opened a 
 lawyer's office, he took a tasement 
 room which had been previously occu- 
 pied by a cobbler. lie was somewhat 
 annoyed by the previous occupant's 
 callers, ;nid irritated by the fact that he 
 had few of his own. One day an Irish- 
 man entered and said : 
 
 "Tlic cobbler's gone, I sec," 
 
 "I .'■hould think he had," tartly re- 
 ypondet' Brady, 
 
 '•And what do ye sell,'" said he, look- 
 ing at the solitary table, and a few law 
 books. 
 
 "Blockheads," responded Brady. 
 
 "Be gorra," said the Irishman, "ye 
 must be doing a thriving business — ye 
 ain't got but one left."' 
 
 What was Needed. — The Duke of 
 ISIarlbrough, admiring the fine figure 
 and warlike air of a soldier, taken pris- 
 ■oneiT at the battle of Hoschset, said to 
 him, "if the French had but 50,000 such 
 moi as you, we should not have gained 
 
 the day so easily." "Marbieu, my 
 lord,"' said the soMier, "we have plenty 
 such men as mc, wc only want one L'ke 
 vou." 
 
 The Dutchman and Stoneis/'aLl 
 Jackson. . 
 
 The following amusing story o\' the 
 experience of a Germau sutler in the 
 Yankee army is {old by one of our sur- 
 geons who was left in charge of our 
 wounded at Gettysburg, Pa., last sum- 
 mer. It seems that the surgeon in pass- 
 ing through Hagerstown, Md". overheard 
 a conversation which took place on the 
 street between the sutler and a friend 
 of his, which was as follows : 
 
 Friend — Halloo. Broom ! I thought 
 you were do^n in Dixie, sutlering. 
 
 Broom — Well, you shist take one 
 drink o' lager beer mit me and I tells 
 you." 
 
 They boih drink and Broom contin- 
 ues : 
 
 You see de times git dull here about 
 Hagerstown, und I tinks I goes me mit 
 the army und sutler. Veil, I zhist take:^ 
 me mine shpring vagon und mine negro 
 boy Ike, und get.s me some goods und 
 goes me to Villiamstown. Und dare is 
 de covalree und de infondree und de 
 ardilleree ; und de bond plays Yankee 
 doodles, und Shtar Shpangled Banner 
 und Hail Golumby, und do Shtars r.nd 
 Shtripes float mit de tops ov de houses 
 mit de vind, und I dinks me dos is all 
 right ; und den falls me in mit de rear 
 ov de army und goes me to Martins - 
 town, und dare sells me mine gracker-i 
 und mine sardines, und mine lager beer 
 und gets me de Greenbacks mit mine 
 Docket, und 1 dinks me dos is goot. 
 Und den falls me in mit de army again, 
 und goes me mit ter Zheneral Banks 
 to Vinchester. 
 
 Yell dare at Vinchester sells m.^ mine 
 sardines und mine grackers und mine 
 sesrars und mine lager beer und all min;: 
 
THH C!AMP POui-OWEtt. 
 
 goods, tmd getb me do Cioeabacks mit 
 mine pocket, and I tinks me doe m all so 
 g'ood, 
 
 Und den goes ixie to Mr. Taylor, of 
 de Taylor House, nnd dells me dcr Mr. 
 Taylor, now you shast keep dcrshpring: 
 vagon und. do nagro boy Ike, und I 
 goes me to Baltimore und buys me 
 new goots — und den goes me to Balti- 
 laore und buys me heap of new goots 
 — four five dollar tcusand vort— und 
 ^ comes me back to Vmchester und gets 
 me one house close by de Taylor House 
 so you can see him as you comes mit 
 de Taylor House dis way, und puts 
 me . de nice fly paper on de rail, und 
 puts mine goots in mine house ; und 
 runs me two shtics mit de door out for 
 trow the calico agross zhust for tract 
 de tention. 
 
 Und von day coom rem nagro boy 
 und looked him mine vinder in und 
 say, "Oh, vot purty goots ! Vot heap 
 purty goods ! Vish I had some dem 
 goots ! Nevermind Shtontvall Zhack- 
 son coom kere some desc days, den 
 gits me some dese goots !" Und I say 
 Tot you know bout it ? Shtonevall 
 Zhackson not can come here, dey be 
 too many beeples ! 
 
 Und von day come von Yankee c(S>v- 
 alree und shteal me mine goots ; und 
 dgn goes me to der Zheneral Banks 
 und dells me der Zheneral as von Yan- 
 kee covalree shteal me mine goots ; 
 und dcr Zheneral say, "I make dat 
 Yankee covalree bring back you dem 
 goots." 
 
 Und de next day come de Yankee 
 covalree und put me mine goots on 
 Yon counter und another Yankee cov- 
 alree shteal me mine goota from de 
 other counter, so 1 have not so much 
 goots as before. 
 
 Und von day coom von nagro rench 
 and price me de goots and say, "Dese i 
 goots be too high. Nevermind, Shtone- , 
 wall Zhackson coom here some dese ' 
 days, den git me dese goots for noth- ' 
 
 ing. Uud I say darn de uegro veacli, 
 Vot you know bout it ? Shtonewall 
 Zhackson he not can cc^ic here, dey be 
 too mar.y bcoplea. 
 
 Und den comes do big bucks mi-fi de 
 ladies, und price me de goote, und dey 
 make up mit de nose und say, "Desc 
 goots be too high. Nevermind, Shtone- 
 wall Zhackson coom here some dese days 
 he git dese goots." " Und I say, Vot yon 
 know about it ? Shtonewall Zhackson 
 he not can oome here, dey be too many 
 beoples. 
 
 Und von day shtand me in mine door 
 und looked me de shtreet up, and sees me 
 von Yankee covalree come down tlie 
 shtreet fast as he can coom — in mit one 
 shoe and out mit one shoo, und his hair 
 shtick straight out mit de vind. Und I 
 say, Hello ! mine friend, for vat for you 
 run so fast. Und de Yankee covalree 
 say, I no shtop talk mit you, Shtonewall 
 Zhackson coom, und den hears me debig 
 gun go loose, und I tinks me dis be one 
 skearmish in de suburps of de town, und 
 dis be von immoralise Yankee covalree 
 run away. 
 
 Und den looks me de shtreet up und 
 sees me the sutler vagon coom, and zhust 
 behind the sutler vagon de ardilleree, und 
 de ardilleree run in mit de sutler vagon, 
 and break de sutler vagon, und dere lays 
 de grackers ijnd sardines, und cigars und 
 needles and pins, and calicoes and lager 
 beer, all in von grand heap in de shtreet, 
 Und zhust behind de ardilleree come de 
 infontree, and zhust behind de infontree 
 de covalree, and zhust behind the coval- 
 ree de graybacks. Mine vader, vos gray 
 backs I and zhust behind de gray backs 
 come von Stonefence Zhonson mit von big 
 tin horn, aai blows, "Who's been here 
 since I've i >ren gone ? — who's been here 
 since I 'v.' brcn gone ?" and rae no shtay 
 for tell Liiii, who's been here since I've 
 been gone ? 
 
 The old fellow became so much excited 
 that he used the words "Shtonefenoe 
 Zhonson,'' for "Stonewall Jackson " 
 
THE' CAMP P©LLOWER.. 
 
 A Stoiy of IMirtfe and Sadness. 
 J-Qst after the fight at Belmont I met 
 Major, now called Gol. Cole, of the 5fch 
 Confederate Regiment (severelj woxind- 
 ed in the iate battle at Chattanooga.) 
 With Cole was an old man named 
 Gibbons, Cole's orderly. I was then a 
 newspaper correspondent, and sought 
 from Major Cole information as to the 
 details of the fight on his part of the 
 field. Ee ghxe them, and at the. same 
 time the names of the killed of his reg- 
 ment. Just here "old Gibbons" inter- 
 rupted US, and insisted that his name 
 should be on the published list of the 
 slain. He assigned as a reason, that 
 his wife was a termagant, that he could 
 not live at home in peace, and had 
 therefore joined the army. He wished 
 hea- to suppose that he was dead, and 
 then perhaps she would regret the wan- 
 ton wrongs she had done him. 
 
 Seeing no special harm to result, I 
 added to my memoranda, "Paul Gibbons 
 a brave old soldier, belonging to Col. 
 Pickett's regiment, was shot between 
 the eyes while fighting gallantly beside 
 Maj. Cole." I had the testimony of 
 Coie and of Gibbons himself, and surely 
 this was enough for a veracious letter 
 writer . Shortly afterwards I met the 
 
 correspondent of the newspaper 
 
 and we exchanged notes. The letters 
 appeared and the death of Gibbons was 
 duly announced. 
 
 The little paper published in the vil- 
 lage whence Gibbons came pronounced 
 a touching eulogium, and to the great 
 world beyond the army, Gibbons was 
 no more. 
 
 Six months afterwards I went down 
 the Tennessee river in a skiff from 
 Chattanooga to reach our arniy, then 
 camped at Tupelo. One day, riding 
 along our lines, I was accosted by a 
 care-worn old man, whom I did not re- 
 cognise. "Don't you know me?" he 
 asked, iu tremulous accents, " I am the 
 man von killed at Belmont." I could 
 
 Act repress sua cxciamation of surprise 
 and amasemeat, the terms of whicla 
 need not be reproduced. He then ex- 
 plained that I had "killed him in tte 
 newspapers, that his wife had adminis- 
 tered on bis estate, sold his negroes and 
 had married again." 
 
 I asked him what I could do for him. 
 His woe begone looks, white hairs and 
 tearful eyes, touched my sympathies. 
 He answered that I must resurrect him. 
 Sad as was Gibbons' face, and sincerely 
 as I regretted what I had done, I lauged 
 till ray sides ached. The old man grew 
 angry at length, and swore he would 
 shoot me. The joke vanished, and I 
 instantly became serious. In solemn 
 accents I promised to resuscitate him 
 through the columns of every newspa- 
 per in the South. Soon, however, the 
 Federals came to the village in which 
 Gibbons had lived. His home was 
 plundered and burned, his slaves en- 
 ticed away to starve in a Yankee gar- 
 rison. The old man died and was buried 
 perhaps — no one can designate the 
 spot. We did not hear of him after we 
 left North Mississippi. 
 
 _ _ ^ MP » ' 
 
 A Philosophic Darkey. — A Yankee 
 newspaper correspondent gives the fol- 
 lowing account of a colloquy with a 
 philosophic darkey, who had been pres- 
 ent at the battle of Fort Donelson : 
 
 Observing him toasting his shins 
 against the chimney, I broke iu upon 
 his profound meditations, thus : 
 
 '*Were you in the fight of Fort Don- 
 elson ?" 
 
 "Had a little taste of it, sah." 
 
 "Stood your ground, did you ?" 
 
 "No sah, I runs." ' 
 
 "Run at the first fire, did you ?'i, 
 
 "Yes sah, and would hab run sooner 
 had I known it war cummin." 
 
 "Why that wasn't very creditable to 
 your courage." 
 
 "Dat ain't in my line, sah ; cookin 's 
 ray peifeeshun." 
 
THE CAMF FOLLOWir. 
 
 "WcU, but have you no regard for 
 your reputation ? ' ' 
 
 "Reputation is nothin to me by the 
 side of life." 
 
 "Do you consider your life vrorth more 
 than other people's ? " , 
 
 "It's vrorth more to me, sah." 
 
 "Then you must value it highly ? " 
 
 "Yes, sah. I does — more dan all dis 
 world — more dan a million of dollars, 
 sah ; for v?hat would dat be worth to a 
 man md de bref out'n him ? Self pre- 
 scrbation is de fust law^ wid me, sah." 
 
 "But why should you act on a differ- 
 ent rule from others ? " 
 
 "Because difiereut men set diiferent 
 values on da lives ; mine is not in de 
 market, sah." 
 
 'But if you lost '»it you would have 
 the sati^action of knowing that you'd 
 died for your country," 
 
 "What satisfaction would that be, 
 sah, when de power of feelin was gone." 
 
 "Then patriotism and honor are no- 
 thing to you." 
 
 " Nothin whatever, sah ; I regard 
 dem as among de vanities." 
 
 "If our soldiers were like you, trait- 
 ors might have broken up the govern- 
 ment without resistance." 
 
 'Yes, sah, dere would have been no 
 help for it. I wouldn't put my life in 
 de scale agiiint any gubbernment dat 
 ever existed, for no gubbernment could 
 replace de loss to me." , 
 
 "Do you think any of your company 
 would have missed you, if you had been 
 kiUed ? " 
 
 "May be not, sah. A dead white man 
 ain't much to dese sogers, let alone a 
 dead nigger ; but I'd a missed myself, 
 sah. and dat is do pint wid me, sah." 
 
 Danish Difficulty Explained by 
 "Punch." — Punch observes, "Young 
 persons who dine out, and wish to be 
 considered >vell-iuformed young diners 
 out, must desire to be able to answer. 
 
 in a few simple words, the question 
 frequently put as to the real value of 
 the difficulty about the king of Den- 
 mark's succession to the Schlcswig'- 
 Holstein dutchies. Mr. Punch vvili ck- 
 plain the matter in a moment. The 
 case is this : King Christian being an 
 agnate, is the collateral heir male of 
 the German Diet, and consequently the 
 Dutchy of Holstein being mediatized, 
 could only have ascended to the Land- 
 gravine of Hesse in default of consan- 
 guinity in the younger branch of the 
 Sonderbug-Glucksburg,. and therefore 
 Schleswig, by the surrender of the 
 Duke of Saxe-Coburg, Gotha was ac- 
 quired as a lief in remainder of the 
 morganatic marriage of Frederick VII. 
 This is clear enough, of course. 
 
 The difficulty, however, arises from 
 the fact that while the Danish proctocol 
 of 1862, which was drawn up by Lord 
 Palmerston, but signed by Lerd Mahu- 
 csbury, repudiated ex post facto the 
 claims of Princess Marj' of Anhalt, ae 
 remainder-woman to the Electress of 
 Augustenburg, it only operated as a 
 uti possidetis in reference to the inter- 
 ests of Prince Christian of Schleswig- 
 Holstein-Sonderburg-Glucksburg, while . 
 Baron Runsen's protest against Catholi- 
 cism, under the terms of the edict of 
 Nantes, of course barfed the whole of 
 the lifieal ancestry of the Grand Duke 
 from claiming by virtue of the Salic 
 clause of the Pragmatic Sanction. The 
 question is, therefore, exhaustively re- 
 duced to a very narrow compass, and 
 the dispute simpl}' ig, whether an ag- 
 nate who is not consanguinoua can as 
 a Lutheran, hold a fief which is clothed 
 by mediatiiiation with tlie character of 
 a neutral belligerent. This is, really, 
 all that ie at issue, and those who seek 
 to complicate the case by introducing 
 the extraneous st^atement, time no doubt 
 in itself, that the Princess of Wales, 
 who is the daughter of tlie present 
 King of Denmark, made no i>ublic re- 
 
10 
 
 THE GAMP POLLOWBE- 
 
 liunciatioif of eifcher of the Pntchies, or 
 the ivory hair brushes, when she dined 
 with Lord Mayor Rose, are simply en- 
 deavoring- to throw dust in the eyes of 
 Btirope." 
 
 When this Cruel War is Over. 
 
 YANKEE (iSRh TO KSP. LOVE£. 
 
 l>eaicst love ! Do you remember. 
 
 When we last did meet, 
 How you told me that you loved mc. 
 
 Kneeling at my feet ? 
 Oh, how proud you stood before me, 
 
 In your suit of blue, 
 When yon vowed to me and couatrv 
 
 Ever to be true. 
 
 Chorrs. — Weeping, sad and lonely, 
 
 Hopea and fears how vaiii. 
 When this cruel war is over, 
 Praying that we meet again. 
 
 When the summer breeze was sighing.) 
 
 Moumfnlly along. 
 Or when autumn leaves were falling, 
 
 Sadly breathes the song. 
 Oit in dreams I see thee lying 
 
 Ou the battle plain,' 
 Lonely, wounded, even dying, 
 
 Calling, bat in vain. " 
 
 It amid the din of bnttie. 
 
 Nobly you should fall. 
 Far away from those who love yon. 
 
 Non*: to hear your call. 
 V. ho w(,\ik\ whisper words of comfort. . 
 
 Who would soothe your pain ? 
 Ah, the many cruel fancies. 
 
 Ever in my brain 1 
 
 Bat your country called you darling. 
 
 Angels cheer your way. 
 While our nation's sons are fighting. 
 
 We can only pray. 
 Nobly strike for God and Liberty. _ 
 
 Let all nations see 
 ■'liat we love the stany banner. 
 
 Kinblem of the free. 
 
 . THR I.eVRR'S RRPLY. 
 
 Dearest love I I do remember 
 Wheu we last did meet. 
 
 How I told you that I loved you, 
 
 KneeKng at your feet. 
 Yes, I proudly stood before yoa 
 
 In my suit of bine, 
 And I thought to you am^ coTintrT 
 Ever to be trae. 
 Chorus,— Weeping, sad and lonely, 
 All your hopes are vain. 
 For I've wed a colored lady, 
 And we'll never meet again,. 
 
 When the summer breeze was sighing, 
 Mournfully along, " "' 
 
 By a negro cabin marching 
 
 There I heard a song' 
 Oft for days I had been seeking 
 
 Lonely, moping, kind a-sQeakiag 
 Round and round in vain ! 
 
 Not amid the din of battle 
 
 Did I hear her call ; 
 Far away from rebel pickets 
 
 Hid behind a wall. 
 T'nere she wispered words of comfort' 
 
 Through tbc- window pane. 
 Ah, the many kinky, darkies 
 
 Loving me in vain. 
 
 Now this darkey calls me "darlic?." 
 
 Angela clear the way I 
 While for niggers we are fightins. 
 
 She can only say : 
 " Xobly strike for Abe. and den for me 
 
 Let de white gal see * 
 
 Dat you hib de darkey better 
 Dan dem who's free. 
 Chorcs.— Weeping; sad and lonely. 
 All your hopes ore vain, 
 For I've wed a colored lady. 
 -A/id we'll neve- meet again. 
 
 A stranger from the country observ- 
 ing an ordinary roller-nile on the table 
 took it up, and inquiring its use was 
 answered : 
 
 " It is a rule for counting hoijses." 
 Too well bred, as he construed polite- 
 ness, to_ ask unnecessary questions, he 
 turned it over, and u\y and down re- 
 peatedly, and at last in a paroxysm of 
 baffled curiosity, inquired : " How in 
 the name of wonder do \un count houses 
 with this ?" 
 
THE CAMP fOLLOWEil. 
 
 1-1 
 
 THE WIFE'S STRATAGEM. 
 
 O^iTAiK Maemaduke SurTH, is — ^judging 
 from his present mandane, matter-of-fact char- 
 acter, aboct the last man one wonl i suspect 
 of having been at anj timo of his life a victim 
 to the "tender passion. " A revelation be 
 volunteered to two or three croniea at the 
 club the other evening nndeceived us. The 
 captain cu this occasibn, as was generally 
 the ca-c on the morrow of a too great in- 
 dulgence, wa9 somewhat dull spirited and 
 lachrymoje. The weather, too, wii? gloomy ; 
 a melancholy barrel organ < had been droning 
 dreadfully for some tine beneath the windows ; 
 and to crown all, Jdr. T.ipo, wri6 ha-< a quick 
 eye for the sentimeuiui. iiad discovered, and 
 read aloud, a comini'n, but ^a 1 stor of mad- 
 ness and suicide \n the ewnim; piper. It i* 
 not. thercforo, no surprising that i< ii 1; r recol- 
 lection should have revive i with unujiUii! Force 
 in the veteran's memory. 
 
 "Yon would hardly believe it. Tape,"' s.».d 
 Captain Smith, after a d^iii pause, and erait- 
 . ting a sound somewhat resembling a sigh, as 
 he relighted the cigar which had gone out 
 during Mr. Tape's reading — "\oa would hard- 
 ly believe it, perliap? ; but 1 wa? woman- 
 witched oiiCe n'y.<t.-It I'" 
 
 •'Never '.■■ ciolainjed thf aJiioni.^hed gentle- 
 man whom he uddressfd. "A man of your 
 strength of mind, Captain ? leant believe 
 it,; it's impossible I " 
 
 "It's an extraordinary faot, I admit : and, 
 to own the truth, I have ncv«r btjen able to 
 account exactly for it mjself. Fortu.i.itely. I 
 took the disorder as I did the meazels — young ; 
 and neither of these complaints is apt to be so 
 fatal then, I'm told, as when they pick a man 
 up later in life. It was, however, a very se- 
 vere attack wliile it lasted. A very charming 
 hand at hooking a gudgeon was that delight- 
 ful Coralie Dufour, I must say." 
 
 ''Any relation to the Monsieur ^nd >Iadame 
 Dufour *e saw seme years ago in Paris ?' 
 asked Tape. "The husband, I remember, was 
 remarkably fond of expressing his gratitude to 
 yoi for having once wonderfully carried him 
 through his difficulties." 
 
 Captain Smith looked sharply at Mr. Tape, 
 a- if he su pected some lurking irony beneath 
 the bland innocence of hi.-' words. Perceiv- 
 ing, as usual, nothing in the speaker's counte- 
 adiioe Mr. Smith — blowin,^ at the 3."Uiie time 
 a wernendaous cloud to conci^ai a f.iinf Muali 
 wl ich.to mv kxtrvme a-touishmont, 1 ob^eyveii 
 
 stealing ovei* hi*> un .ceasxomed eatures — said, 
 gravely, alm?st solemnly : "Yeu, Mr. Tape, 
 are a n.ariied map, and the fa'ther el a family, 
 and your own expori^ince. therefore, in the 
 female line most be ample for a Hfetime ; but 
 you, sir,'" continuvd ti:'^(;aptair.. patron'zinKly, 
 addressing another ot iiia aoditors, "are. I be- 
 lieve, as yet 'unati ached." iii a iegul sense, and 
 may therfore derive prolit. aa well as instruc- 
 ' tiou, from au exampk; of tb-,.' way in which 
 ardent and inexperienced youth is sometime* 
 entrapped and bamboozled by womankind. — 
 Mr. "Tape, oblige me by touching the bell." 
 
 The instant the captain.s order had been 
 obeyed, he commenced the n^irrative of his 
 I love adventure, and for a time spoke with his 
 1 accustomed calmness : but toward the close 
 ; lie became to exceeding discursive and ex- 
 cited, and it was with so much difficulty we 
 drew Irom him many little particulars it wa.s 
 e^ential to hear, that I have been compelled, 
 from regard to brevity as well as strict deco- 
 rHm, to soften down and render in my own 
 words some of the chief incidents of his mia 
 hiip. 
 
 Jti.-l pr vious to the winter campaign whicj 
 witne-sed the second siege and fall ot Bada- 
 iol, Mr. Smith, in the Bealous cxercis'.- of his 
 perilous vocation, entered that city in his 
 usual disguise of a Spanish countryman, with , 
 strict orders to keep his eyes and ears wide 
 open, and to report as speedily as possible 
 npun various military detaib, which it was 
 d<'sirab!e the British general should be made 
 acquainted with. Mr. Smith, from the first 
 moment that the pleasant position was hinted 
 to him, had manifested considerable re'.ue- 
 tauce to undertake the task ; more especially 
 as General Phillipon, who commanded t'ue ' 
 French garrison, hod not veiy long before 
 been much too near catching him, to render 
 a possibly still more intimate acquau tance, 
 with so sharp a -ji-acii'ionor at ail deairable. 
 Nevertheless, p8 the service was argent, and 
 no one, it was agreed, so competent as himself 
 to the duty— indetd upon this point Mr. Smith 
 remarked that the most flaf.ering unanimity 
 of opinion was exhibited by all the gentlom'^u 
 likely, should he decline the honor, to b^ .soloct- 
 ed in his place — he 6aally consented, u.nd in 
 due time found himsell fairly within the walls , 
 of the devoted city. "It was an uncom ort- 
 ablc business," the captain said, "very much 
 BO— and in more ways than one. It look a 
 long time toac^ompli'h ; and wh;\» wa^ worse 
 ih^'i ;di. ra'xi ■■, wore m^s^rablv siiort. The 
 
12 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 Erecch parrison were living upoE sahed horse- 
 flesh, and yon may g'uess, therefore, at the 
 csnditiOD 0* the civiliaDS' vicUiaiJog tlt'part- 
 ment. Wine was, however, to he hnci in 
 snfficieEt plenty; and I used frequer.tJy ui 
 pass a few hours at a place of enfttrtaiiiint.-"' 
 kept by an Andalnsian woman, whose bitit r 
 hatred of the French invader?, and favor «b!e 
 disposition toward tlie British were well 
 known to me, though successfully concealed 
 from Napoleon's soldiers, many of whom — 
 sous-officei's, chiefly — were ber customer!". My 
 chief amusement there was plajing a* domi- 
 noes for a few glasses. I played, when 1 had 
 a choice, with a smart, soodish-lookiug sous- 
 lieutenant of voUigeuri: — a glib-tougutd chap, 
 of the sort that tell all ihev know, and some- 
 thicg- over, with very !i;i!e pressinjj. His 
 comrades addressed hij;i us Victor, the only 
 name I then knew him hy. He and 1 brcame 
 very good friend?, the more rtadily thiit 1 was 
 ''content he should generally win. I soon 
 reckoned Master Victor up ; but there was 
 an old, wiry <xie.dm of a sergfant-inajt^r some 
 ■ times present, whose sus;>icious mar. er cauK-^l 
 me frequent twinges. One day espf><^'"ii!ly I 
 caught him looking at me in a M-av '.bat sent 
 the blood <ralloping thronah my veins like 
 wild-fire. A luolc. Mr. 'i'^pc wli cb may be 
 very likely followed in a few miirate» after- 
 ward by a baiter, or by half a dozen bullet.s 
 through' one's btnly, is apt to excite av, un 
 pleasant sensation." 
 
 "I should think so. I wouldn'' i>e ii; siu'h 
 •a pi-edicament for the creation."' 
 
 "It's a situation that woiud hardly -uit y()U. 
 Mr. Tape " replied the veteran, with a jT'im 
 smile. ••Well, the gray-beaded old ios. lo!- 
 lowed op his look with a number of iiiteres'.- 
 ing queries concerning my hirtlv pai-entagn, 
 and present occupation, my flr=v.c-!-.- to which 
 ao operated open him, that ] ;.|' (j-jito certain 
 when he snook hand* w!"' m;-, ainl expressed 
 himself perfectly sa>i-^ ..nd Riuntered care- 
 lea^ly out of the p' •..■.that he was gone to 
 ropoVt his snrnii .-.s :it:d would be probably 
 back again in t•i^^■■ twis with a tiie of soldiers 
 and an order ;or my arrest. He had put me 
 so smartly tiMouiih uiy facings, that althuui'h 
 it was qi-v.-.e h cold day for Spain. I give you 
 my hono!' I perspirej to the very lip^ fif my 
 tiDgers and toe.«. Tlie chance of escape was. 
 1 felt, almost d(*s)>-rite. The previous even- 
 ing a rKmor had circulated that the British 
 jrereral hnd st'vrmed Ciudad Rodrigo, and 
 
 seven-leagae faoO'ts. toward Badajoz. The 
 French were c^nseque tly more than ever 
 on tlie alert, and keen eyes watched wrtn 
 sharpened eagerness for indication of sympa- 
 thy or correspondence between the citijieris 
 aud the advancing army. I jumped up as 
 «oon 8s the sergeant-major had disappeared, 
 ;i; d wiif^ abnut to follow, when the luiatresa of 
 th< place approached, and .'aid. hastily, 'I 
 ha>e heard all, and il not quick, you will be 
 eacrificed by tho-e French dog.s : ihis way.' 
 I followed to an inner ap^rtmert'. where she 
 drew I'om a well-couceaifed reco.«s, a French 
 officer's uuilorin, complete. 'O/i with it!' 
 rh- exclaimed, as >he lelt.ilje room. I know 
 tlie W'!rd and countersign.' 1 did no' u-qnire 
 twice telling. >ou may be sun^ ; ind in 'fcS3 
 than no time was toqijed . ft li(>au!i!ully in a 
 lieuteoi'nt's utiiiorrn. and walkins; at a smart 
 p.>ce toward one cf thi- jzut'-s I was wiiliin 
 twenty yard- ot^ the corps de-garde, whCQ 
 ■ horn sijuuld I rui) against bur .so»s-lieut<n- 
 an* Vitt'^r! He stared, uu'. either d.d not 
 lor the moment know me, <>r else doubted the 
 evidence of \\'u own senset?. I quickened my 
 s;ops~the guard challKnged — I gave the 
 woids, "Xapoleou. .^usterlitz!— pa.?.=ied on; 
 ai:d a* socn as a turn of the road hid me from 
 view, increased my pace 'o a run. My horse, 
 I^ should have s'uiti d, had been left in sure 
 hands at about two miiea' distance. Could 
 1 reach >o f;ir. .then- was, I felt, a chance. 
 Uniorcntuit' 'y. I had not gone more than five 
 or six hiui'ir' d v;.rd.-, wLeii a hubbub of .^houtg 
 and !iiU!.ket-s!;ouis iif my rear, announced that 
 I wa.- pursued. I glanced round ; aud I assure 
 you. '^eiitlennn. I have seen iu my life many 
 pleav.ntcr wr- spccts than m«t my view — 
 Kicijmond Hill, for instance, on a fine summer 
 duy. Between twenty and thirty voUigeurs, 
 head'd by my friend Vi»;''..T. wiio hod armed 
 hinii^elf, like "lu- other-, wiib a musket, were 
 iu full pun-uit ; ar>d o ce. I was quite satis- 
 fltd, within gun-shot, my business would be 
 very "Hvctually and spetdily settled. 
 
 • I rat) on with eager desperatian ; and 
 though (.Tddualiy nean-d my friends, gained 
 the hut wLt -re 1 had U It my horse in safety. 
 Tb«' vokigcure were t.hrown out for a few 
 miuutes. They knew, h.owever, that I had 
 not passed the thicki>h clumps of trees which 
 partially concealed tl'e uttage ; and they ex- 
 teiided themselves in a senn-circle to inclose,, 
 and thus make sure ot \hcir prey. Juan San- 
 
 m gi 
 
 chez, luckily for himself, was not at home ; 
 alrtalv br.stenifvff in his-' but my borse, as I have stated, was safe, acd 
 
THiC CAMP PeiLLOWflR. 
 
 13 
 
 la prime com^iliin for a i-a<;e. I gadd'vd, 
 bridled, acd brongiit him out. still coa^^iltd 
 by the tref.< from the French, who?e exulting 
 shouts, as they ^adually closed upon th« spot, 
 grew momi nlly loader and fiercer. The sole 
 de^perato chance left was to dash right 
 through them; and I don't mind telling joa, 
 gentlemi'n, that I was confoundedly Irigbten- 
 id. and that bat for the certainty of being 
 instantly >i\crificpd, without benefit of clerfiy. 
 I should Lave surrendered at onee. There 
 was, however, no time lor shilly-shallying. I 
 took another pull ;it the saddle-girths, mount- 
 ed, drove the only jpur 1 bad time to strap on 
 sharply into the" animars flank, and in an in- 
 stant broke cover in full u»d near view of the 
 expecting and impatient voitigeurs ; and a 
 very brilliant reception they gave me — quite 
 a stunner in fact! It's a very ;,Mand thing, 
 no doabt, to be the exclusive obj ct of atten- 
 tion to twenty or thirty gallant men, but so j 
 little selfish, gentlemen, have 1 i»ex.'n Irom my 
 youth upward in the article of 'glory,' that I 
 assure you I should have be<.'n remarkably | 
 well-j leased to hav had a few companions — | 
 thumore the merrier — to share the monopoly 
 which 1 engrossed ad I came suddenly in sight. 
 The flashes, reports, builtts, •iacres, which in 
 an ir:8tant gleamed in my eyes, ar.d roartd 
 and sang ubout my ears were rivafening. How 
 they all contiived to miss me I can't imagin;-, 
 but miss me they did ; and I had passed thim 
 about sixty pacts, whc?. who should start up 
 over a hedge, a few yards' in advance, but my 
 domino-player, 80us-lieu'enant Victor I In an 
 instant his musket was raised within two or 
 three feet of my face. Flash ! bang I I felt 
 a blow as if from a thrust of red-hot steel ; 
 and for a moment made me sure that my head 
 was off. With diffieulty I kept my seat. The 
 horse dashed on, and I was speedily beyond 
 the chance of capture or pursuit. I drew 
 bridle at tiie first village I reached, and found 
 that Victor's bullet had gone clean through 
 both cheeks. The Biarks, you see, are still 
 plain enough." 
 
 This was quite true. On slightly eeparat- 
 ing the gray hair« of the captain's whiskers, 
 the places where the ball had made its en- 
 trance and exit were distinctly visible. 
 
 "A narrow escape," I remarked. 
 
 "Yes, rather ; but a miss is as good as a 
 mile. The effusion of blood nearly choked 
 me ; and it was astonishing how much wine 
 and spirits it required to wash the taste out of 
 my mouth. I found," continued Mr. Smith, 
 
 •'on arrivioj at iii>ad o«a?tei'S, toat Ciadttd 
 Rodrigo had fai'en a<s reported, aod that Lord 
 Wellington was hurrying on to storm Badajoz; 
 before the echo of his guns should have reached 
 Masena or Soult in the fool's paradise where 
 they were both slumbering. I was of course 
 for some tim« on the sick list, and consequent- 
 ly only assi«)tc<l at the assault of Badajoz as a 
 distant spectator — a part I always preferred 
 when 1 had a choice. It was an awful, terri- 
 ble "business," adiled Mr. Smith, with unusual 
 solemnity. "I am not much of a philosoper 
 that I know of, nor, except in service hoars, 
 particularly given to religion, but I remember 
 when the roar and tumult ot the fierce hurri- 
 cane broke upon the calm and silence of the 
 night, and a storm of hell-fire oemed to burst 
 from aiiJ encircle the devoted city, wondering 
 what the stars, which were shining brightly 
 overhead, thought of the strife and din they 
 looked so calmly doft-n upon. It was gallant- 
 ly done, howevei. ' the veteran added, in a 
 brisker tone, ''and read well in the Gazette ; . 
 and that perhaps is the chief thing.' 
 
 "But what," I asked, "has all this to do 
 with the charming Cofalie and your lo%'e-ad- 
 venture?" 
 
 ■'Everything to do with it, as yoa will im- 
 mediately find. I remained in Badajoz a con- 
 siderable time' after the departure of the army, 
 and was a more frequent visitor than eve* at 
 the bouio of the exoellent danie who had so 
 opportunely aided my esciipe. She was a 
 kind-hearted soul with all her vindictiveness ; 
 and now that the French were no longer riding 
 rough-shod over the city, spoke of those whd* 
 were lurking about in concealment — of whom 
 tlfere were believed to be not a few, with sor- ■ 
 row and compassion. At length the wound I 
 had received at lieutenant Victor's hands was 
 thoroughly healed, and I was thinking of de- 
 parture, when t*:e Andalusian dame introduced 
 me in her taciturn, expressive way to a charm- 
 ing young Frenchwoman, whose husband, a 
 Spaniard, had been slain during the assault or 
 sack of the city. The intimacy thus begun 
 soon kindled on my part, into an intense ad- 
 miration. Coralie was gentle, artless, confiding 
 as she was beautihil, and moreover— as Jean- 
 nette, her sprightly, black-eyed maid informed 
 me in eonfidenoe— extremely rich. Here, gen- 
 tlemen, was a combination of charms to which 
 only a heart of stone could remain insensible, 
 aod mine at the time was not only young, but 
 particularly sensitive and tender, owing in 
 some degree, I dare say, to the low diet to which 
 
14 
 
 ?«E CAJdP FOL.LOWE'R. 
 
 •I faa<i3 beoQ eo loag- e<>»£ocd ; for KOthing, ia 
 mj opinion, takes tiic sense and plack out of 
 a man so q-uickly as that. At aJ! events I 
 Kooo sarreudered at discretion, and was coyly 
 accepted by tlic blashia? lady, ''i'here was 
 oqIv one obstacle," she timidly observed, 'to 
 ©sr happiness. The relatives ot her late hus- 
 band, by law her guardians, were prejudiced, 
 mercenary wretches, anxious to marry her to 
 aa old hunks of a Spaniaad, so that the proper- 
 ty of her late husband, chiefly consisting of 
 precious stones — he had been a lapidary — 
 might not pass into the hands of foreigners.' 
 I can scarcely believe it now," added Mr. 
 .Smith, with great heat; but if I didn't swal- 
 low all this stuff like sack and sugar, I'm a 
 Dutchman ! The thr>nght of it., old as I am, 
 sets my very blood on fire. 
 
 '■At length, ccntiuaed Mr. Marmaduke 
 Smith, as soon us he had partially recovered 
 his equaiiimily; "at length it was agreed, 
 after all sorts of schemes had been canvassed 
 and rejected, (hat llie fair widow should be 
 smuggled out of Badajoz as luggage in a large 
 chest, which Jcaunette ftnd the Andalusian 
 landlady— J forget that woman's name — un- 
 dertook to have properly prepared. The mar- 
 riage ceremony was to be performed by a 
 priest at a village about twelve English miles 
 oS with whon'rCoralie undertook to commu- 
 nicate. 'I trust,' said the lady, 'to the honor 
 of a British ofScer'— I ha^l not then received 
 my commission, but no matter— 'that he, that 
 you, Captain Smith, will respect the sanctity 
 of my concealment till we arrive in the pres- 
 ence of the reverend gentleman, who,' she 
 added, with a smile like a sunset, 'wi!!, I tru.st, 
 aoite our destinies forever.' 'She placed, as 
 she spoke, her charming little hand in mine, 
 and I, you will hardly credit it, tumbled down 
 on my knees, and vowed to religiously respect 
 the dear angel's slightest wish 1 Mr. Tape, for 
 mercy's sake, pass the wine, or the hare recol- 
 lection will choke me !" 
 
 I must now, for the reasons previously stated, 
 continue the narrative in my own words. 
 
 Everthing was speedily arranged for flight. 
 Mr. Smith found no difiSculty in procuring 
 from the Spani h commandant an order which 
 enabled him to pass his luggage through the 
 barrier unsearch»3 : Jeannette was punctual at 
 the rendezvous, and pomted exaltingly to a 
 large chest, which she whispered contained the 
 trembling Coral ie. The chinks were suflBcient' 
 ly wide to adirit of the requisite quantity of 
 air ; it locked inside, and when a kind of sail- 
 
 dotli was tkrowu loosely over ii, lijere wes 
 nothing very unu^tial in its appearance. Ten- 
 derly, tremulously did th^ rejoicing ;over assist 
 the precious load into the hiied b^-'iock-rart, 
 and off they started, Mr. Smith and .Jeaimette 
 walking by the side of the richly freighted 
 vehicle. 
 
 Mr. Smith trod on air, but the cart, which 
 had to be dragged over some of the worst roads 
 in the world, mocked his impatience by its 
 marvelonsly slow progress, and when they 
 halted at noon to give the oxen water, they 
 were still three goci! miles from their destina- 
 tion. 
 
 "Do you think,' .said Mr. Smith, in a whis- 
 per to Jeannette, holding up a full pint fla.«k. 
 which he had just drawn from his pocket, and 
 pointing toward the chest, 'do you think?— 
 Brandy and water- -eh ?' 
 
 Jea:inotte nodded, and the gallant Smith 
 gently approachfd, tapped at the lid. arid in a 
 soft low whisper proffered the cordial. The lid 
 was, with the slightest possible delay, just 
 sufficiently raised to admit the flask, and in- 
 stantly riclosed and locked In about ten 
 minutes the fia.'jk was returoed as silently as it 
 had been received. The enamored soldier 
 raised it to his lips, made a profound inclina- 
 tion toward hi.s concealed fiancee, and said, 
 gently, "'A votre Sante, charmante Ooralie!" 
 The l>on'gnaut and joyous exp ession of Mr. 
 Smith's face, as he vainly elevated the angle 
 ©f the flask in expectation of the anticipated 
 draught, assumed an exceetlingly puzzled and* 
 bewilder d expression. He peere^l into the 
 opaque tin vessel ; pushed his little finger into 
 its nock to remove the loose cork or other 
 substance that impede<l the genial flow : then 
 shook it. and listened curiously for a splash or 
 gurgle. Not 'i sound ! Coralie had drained 
 it to the last drop ! Mr. Smith looked with 
 comical earnestness at Jeannette, who burst 
 into a fit of uncontrolable laughter. 
 
 "Madame is thirsty," she said, as soon as she 
 could catch sufficient breath : "it must be so 
 hot in there. ' 
 
 '*A full pint !" said the captain, still in blank 
 astonishment, "and strong — very !" 
 
 The approach of the carter interrupted what 
 he farther might have had to say, and in a few 
 minutes the journey was resumed. The cap- 
 tain fell int,5 a reverie which was not broken 
 till the cart again stopped. The chest was 
 then glided gently to the f round ; the driver, 
 who had been previouslv paid, turned the 
 head.s of his team toward Badajoz, and with a 
 
THE CAMP roujyvrESi. 
 
 brief ealotation departed bomeward. Jeair- j 
 nette was, etoopiEs: ever the cbest, con- 
 vereing in a low tone with her mistress, and 
 Oaptain Smith SHrveyed the position in which 
 he foDDd himself with some astonishment. No 
 bouse, much less a church or village was viei- 
 ble, and not a human beinj was to be seen. 
 
 "Captain Smith," said Jeacnette, approach- 
 ing the puzzled warrior with some hesitation, 
 'a slight contretemps Las occurred. The 
 friends who were to have met us here, and 
 helped to convey our precious charge to a 
 place of safety, are not, a? vou wrceive, ar- 
 rived ; perhaps they do not ihial: i\. prudent 
 to venture quite so far.' 
 
 "It is quite apparent they are not here," 
 observed- Mr. Snutii ; but why not have pro- 
 ceeded in the cart? ' 
 
 "What, captain ! Betray your and madame's 
 secret to vondcr Spanish boor. How you 
 talk !•' 
 
 "Well, but my good girl, what is to be 
 done? Will madame get out and walk?" 
 
 "Impossible — impossible !" ejaculated the 
 amiable damsel. "VYe should be bot'' recog- 
 nised, dragged back to that hateful Badajoz, 
 and madame would be ebut up in a convent 
 for life. It is but about a quarter of a mile," 
 added Jeannette, in an iusi'Miaiiug, caLCSsing 
 tone, "and madame is not sf em heavy" 
 
 "The devil !" exclaimed ISb. Smith, taken 
 completely aback by this extraordinary pro- 
 posal. "You can"t mean that I should take 
 that infer — that chest npon my shoulders ?" 
 
 "Mon Dieu ! what else can be done ?" re- 
 plied Jeannette, with pathetic earnestneps ; 
 "unless you are determined to sacrifice my dear 
 mistress— she whom yon pretend to "o love — 
 you hard-hearted, faithless man 1" 
 
 Partially moved by the damsel's tearful 
 vehemence, Mr. Smith reluctantly approached, 
 and gently lilted one end of the chest, as an 
 experiment. 
 
 "There are a great many valuables there 
 besides madame," said Jeannette, in reply to 
 the captain's look, "and silver eoin is, you 
 know, very heavy." 
 
 "Ah !" exclaimed the perplexed lover. "It 
 is deucedly unfortunate — stil' — Don't you 
 think," he ad led earnestly, after again essay- 
 ing the weight of the precious nrdcn, "tha*^ 
 if madame were to wrap herself well up in (his 
 sail-cloth, we might reach your friend, the 
 prioBt's house, without detection?" 
 
 "Ob, no — no— no !" rcjoini d the girl. "Mon 
 Dieal bow can you think of expjsuig madame 
 
 to such haeard ?" "How tai do you say it ►j 
 asked captain Smith, after a rat.jer eaiien 
 pause. 
 
 "Only just over the fields yonder — bait a 
 mile, perhaps." 
 
 Mr. Smitii still hesitated, but finally the 
 tears and entreaties ©' the attendant, his re- 
 gard for the lady and h'-r fortune, the neces- 
 sity of the position, in short, determined him 
 to undertake thjtusk. A belt was passed 
 tightly round the chest, by means of Which be 
 could keep it on his back ; and after several 
 unsuccessfnl ofFort?. the charming load wag 
 fairly hoisted, and on the captain manfully 
 strncglcd, .Teannetto bringing "p the rear. 
 
 Valiantly did Mr. Smith, th()uj4h perspiring 
 in every pore of bi? body, and dry a?? a car- 
 touch-box — for madame had emptied the only 
 flask he had — toil od under a btr.dca wLic i 
 seemed to grind Lis -houlder-blades to powa 
 He declares be must have lost a s'C'ic r^f fl.. 
 at lea.-'t before, after numerous resting?. \ 
 arrived, at the end oi about an hour, nt f 
 door of a small bouw. which Jeannette ;i 
 nounctd to be the private residence of tbn 
 priest. The door was quickly opened by u 
 smart lad who seemed to have been expecting 
 them ; the chest was doppsited on the floor, 
 and Jeannette instantly vanished. The lad, 
 with considerate intelligence, handed Mr. 
 Smith a draught of wine. It was scarcely 
 swallowed when the key turned in the lock, 
 the eager lover, greatly revived by the wine, 
 sprang forward with extended arms, and re- 
 ceived in hie enthusiastic embrace — whom do 
 you think ? 
 
 "Coralie, half-atifled for wont of air, and 
 nearly dead with fright" suggested Mr. Tape. 
 
 "That rascally Sous-lieutenant Victor! half 
 drank with br.indy-and water," roared Cap- 
 tain Smith, who bad by this time worked 
 himself into a state of great excitement. "At 
 the same m'-ment in ran Jeannette, and. I 
 could hardly believe my eyes, that Jezebel 
 Coralie, followed by half-a-dozen French vcl- 
 tigeurs, screaming with laughter 1 I saw I 
 was done," continued Mr. Smith, "but not for 
 the moment precisely how, and but (or bis 
 comrades, I should have settled old and new 
 scores with Master Victor very quickly. As 
 it was, they h d some difficulty in getting him 
 out of my clutches, for I was, as you may sap- 
 pose, awlully savage. An hour or so after- 
 ward, when philosophy, a pipe, and some very 
 capital wine — they were not bad fellows those 
 voltigeurs — had exercised their soothing in- 
 
1« 
 
 XHE SAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 go€HC8, 1 was il2ferai4d oi' t'^a «xa«5 motiyes 
 and partitulayg ot' the tri«k w'uick had been 
 phyed Bie. Coralie was Vicor Dafoa's wife. 
 He bad been woanded at the ajMult of Bada- 
 joa., and successfully coBcealwu i that Anda- 
 iusiaii woman's house ; and ;i3 ■• ae best, per- 
 haps only mode of saving him from a Spanish 
 prison, or worse, the scheme, of which I had 
 been the victim, was concocted. Had not 
 Dufour wounded me, they would, I was as- 
 sored, have thrown themselves upon my honor 
 and generosity — which honor and generosity, 
 by-the-by, would never haye got Coralie's 
 husband upon my back, I'll be sworn !" 
 
 "You will forgive u.«, mon cher captaiue ?" 
 said that lady, with one of ht;- sweetest smiles, 
 as she handed me a cup of wine. "In love and 
 war, y6u know, every ihinj? is fair." 
 
 •'A soldier, gentlemen, is not made of ada- 
 mant. I was, I confess, soitoued : and by the 
 time the parljy broke up, we weix- all the best 
 friends in the world." 
 
 "And so that fat, jolly looking Madame 
 Dufour we saw in Paris, is the beautiful Co- 
 ralie that bewitched Captain Smith ?'" said 
 Mr. Tape, thoughtfully— "Well !" 
 
 •'She was younger forty years ago, Mr. 
 Tape, than when you saw her. Beautiful Co- 
 ralies are rare, 1 fancy, at her present age, 
 and -vtry fortunately, too, in my opinion," 
 continued Captain Smith ; "for what, I should 
 like to know, would become of the peace and 
 comfort of society, if a woman oi sixty could 
 bewitch a man as easily as she does at six- 
 teen?" 
 
 "Look at Home." — Re\. John Hur- 
 rion, a christian minister in Norfolk, 
 England, had two daughters wjio were 
 fond of dress, and on this account gave 
 him great grief. He had often private- 
 ly reproved them, but in vain ; at length, 
 while preaching one Lord's day, lie took 
 occasion to notice, among other things, 
 pride in dress. After speaking for 
 some time on the subject, he suddenly 
 stopped and said with much feeling, 
 "But, jou will say look at home. My 
 good friends, I do look at home 'till my 
 heart aches." 
 
 Good taste and nature i^lwaya speak the 
 same. 
 
 Knowledge may slumber in tlie 
 memory, but h never dies ; it is like 
 the dormouse in the ivied tower, that 
 sleeps while vyinter lasts, but awakes 
 with the warm breath of Spring. 
 
 A' fashionable Doctor lately informed 
 his friends in a large company, that he 
 had been passing eight days in the 
 country. 
 
 'Yes,' said one of the party, 'it has 
 been annuuuced in one of the journals.' 
 
 'Ah,' sai.I the doctor, stretching his 
 neck very important, 'pray in what 
 terms ?' 
 
 'In what terms ? Why, as well as I 
 can remember, is nearly in the follow- 
 ing: — Jhere was last week seventy- 
 seven interments leas than the week 
 before.' 
 
 Longfellow says that Sunday is the 
 golden clasp that binds together the 
 volume ui'the week. 
 
 No woman should paint except she 
 who has lost the power of blushing. 
 
 We are indebted to Mrs Caudle for 
 the following : 
 
 Men brandy driuk, and never think, 
 Tkat girls at all can tell it.; 
 
 They don't suppose that woman's nose 
 Was ever made to smell it. 
 
 A Good One. — 'Husband, I hope you 
 have no objection to my being weisrl; 
 ed?' 
 
 'Certainly not, my dear ; but why do 
 you ask V 
 
 'Only to ascertain if you will let me 
 have my weigh once.' 
 
 ^ — ' 
 
 A youth without enthusiasm of some 
 kind would be as unnatural a thing as 
 spring-time without wild flowers. 
 
THB OAKP poi*«wma. 
 
 It 
 
 ib is the opiuiun of a western editor 
 that wood goes further when left oat of 
 doors than when well honeed . He says 
 some of his went half a mile. 
 
 Excuse me, madam, but I would like 
 to ask why you look at me so savagely. 
 'Oh ! beg your pardon, sir ! I took you 
 for my husband.' 
 
 Dr. Brcckcnridge says that it is the 
 characteristic of Keiituckians not to 
 promise much, bat that they always per- 
 form what they promise. 
 
 What is it you must keep after you 
 have given it to another? Your word. 
 
 A hospitable man is never ashamed 
 of his dinner when you come to dine 
 with him. 
 
 Four lines more beautiful than these 
 are rarely written The figure which 
 it involves is exquisite. 
 
 'A solemD tnarmar in the son! 
 
 Tells of the world to be, 
 As travelers hear the'billowa roB 
 
 Before they reach the sea.' 
 
 Calumny may be defined, a mixture 
 ©f truth and falsehood blended with 
 malice. 
 
 'Have you ever broVen a horse !' in- 
 quired a horse jockey. 'No, not exactly,' 
 replied Simmona 'But I have broken 
 three or four wagons.' 
 
 What kind of sweetmeats were most 
 prevalent in Noah's Ark ? Preserved 
 pairs. 
 
 All that glitters is not gold. 
 
 One of the toasts drank at a recent 
 celebration, was — ' Woman I She needs 
 no eulogy, she spbaks foe. kbrsklp V 
 
 HOW I COATED SAL, 
 
 BY PBTER 8P0RUM, ESQ. 
 
 Well, you see arter the 'poker' scrape, 
 me an Sal got along only midlin weH 
 for sum time, tell I made up my mind 
 to fetch things to a hed, fur I luved her 
 harder and harder every day, an I bad 
 a idea that she had a sorter sneaking 
 kindness 'ur me, but how to doo the 
 thing up rite pestered me orful — I got 
 sum luv h>ook, and red how the fellers 
 got down on their marrerbones and 
 talked li^o polks, and how the gals they 
 wud go into a sorter transe, and then 
 how tiiey wud gently fall inter the fel- 
 ler's arms, but surnhow or uther, that 
 way didn't sute my noshun. I axed mam 
 how dad coated her, but she sed it had 
 bin so long, that she'd forgot all about 
 it, (uncle Jo allers sed mam dun all the 
 coatin) — at last I made up my mind to 
 go it blind, fur this thing was fairly a 
 consummin ray innards, so I goes over 
 to her daddy's (that's Sals,) and when I 
 got thar, I sot like a fool, thinkin how 
 to begin. Sal seed sumthin was a trub- 
 lin uv me and ses, 
 
 See she, 'Aint you sick, Peter ?' 
 
 She sed this tnity soft like. 
 
 'Yes— no' ses T, 'that is — I aint ad- 
 zackly well — I thot I'd cum over to- 
 nite,' SOB I, 
 
 That's a mity putty beginnin any hovr, 
 thinks I, so I tried agin. 
 
 'Sal,' ses I, an by this time I felt mity 
 fainty an oneasy like about the squize- 
 rinctum. 
 
 'Whi)t,' ses Sal. 
 
 'Sal,' ses I agin. 
 
 'Whot,' ses she. 
 
 I'll git tu it arter a while at this lick, 
 thinks I. 
 
 'Peter,' ses ahe, 'thar's sumthin a 
 trublin you powerful, I no, : its mity 
 
18 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 rong for you too keep it frum a body, 
 fur an innard sorrer is a consumin fire, ' 
 She sed this, she did, the deer, sly cree- 
 tur — she need what was the matter all 
 the time mity well, and was jist a tryin 
 to fish it out, but I wus so fur gone, I 
 did'nt see the pint. At last I sorter 
 gulped down the lump as was a risin 
 in my throte, and ses : 
 
 Ses I, 'Sal, do you luv enny body ?' 
 
 'Well,' ses she, 'thar's dad, and mam, 
 an (2i countin on her fingers all the 
 time, with her ise sorter shet like a fel- 
 ler shootin uv a gun) an thar's old Pide, 
 [that wur an ole cow uv hern] an I can't 
 think uv enny body else jis now' ses 
 she. 
 
 Now, this wur orful fu^ a feller ded 
 in luv, so arter a while I tries anutlier 
 shute. 
 
 Ses I, 'Sal, I'm powerful ionesum at 
 home, an I sumtimes thinks ef I only 
 had a nice putty wife to luv an to talk 
 to, an to move and hav my beiu with, 
 I would be a tremenduous feller.' 
 ■ With that she begins an names over 
 all the gals m five miles uv thar, an 
 never wunst come a nigh namin uv her- 
 self, and sed I orter git wun uv them. 
 This sorter got my dander up ; so I 
 hitched my cheer up close to hern, and 
 sed, • 
 
 'Sal, you are the very gal I've bin a 
 hankerin arter fur a iong time. I luv 
 you all over, from the sole uv yore hed 
 to the foot of yore crown, an I don't 
 keer who nose it ; an if jou say so, 
 we'll be jined on tugether in the holy 
 bands of matrimony, e pluribns unum, 
 world without end, amen,' ses I ; an I 
 felt like I'd throed up a alligater, I 
 felt so releeved. With that she fetched 
 a sorter scream, and arter a wjiile ses. 
 
 'Ses she, 'Peter.' 
 
 'Whot, Sally,' ses I. 
 
 'Yes,' ses she, a hidin her putty face 
 behind her hans. You may depend on 
 it, I felt good. 
 
 'Glory ! Glory !' ses I. 'I must hol- 
 
 ler, Sal, or I'll bust wide open. Hoorah 
 for hooray — I kin jump over a ten rale 
 fense, I kin butt a bull ofi" uv the bridge, 
 an kin do enny an everything that enny 
 uther feller ever could, would, should, 
 or orter do.' 
 
 With that I sorter sloshed miself 
 down bi her, and clinched her, and 
 seeled the bargin with a kiss, an sich a 
 kiss — talk about yore shugar — talk 
 about yore nierlarsis, talk about yore 
 black berry jam, you couldd't a got me 
 too cum a nigh, thay wud all a tasted 
 sour arter that. 
 
 Oh, these wimmin, how good an how 
 bad, how hi an how lo thay kin make a 
 feller feel — ef Sal's daddy hadn't a hol- 
 lered out, it wur time fur all onest fokes 
 to be in bed, I do beleeve I'd a staid 
 thar all nite. You orter a seed me 
 when I got home. I pulled dad outer 
 bed an I hugged him, I pulled mam 
 outer bed an I hugged her, I pulled 
 ant Jane outer bed and I hugged her. 
 I roared, I snorted, I cavorted, I lafied 
 an hollored, I erode like a rooster, I 
 dansed about, an cut up more capers 
 than yu ever heai*n tell on, tell dad 
 thought I wus crazy, an got a ro^e too 
 ti me with, 
 
 'Dad,' ses I, "'I'm a gwine too be .mar- 
 rid.' 
 
 'Marrid V bawled dad. 
 
 'Marrid !' squalled mam. 
 
 'Marrid !' squeaked ant Jane, 
 
 'Yes, marrid,' ses I, 'marrid all over 
 — marrid too be shore — marrid like a 
 flash — jined in wedlock — hooked on 
 fur wusser or fur better, fur life and 
 fur death to Sal, I am — that very thing 
 — me, Peter Sporum, Esquire' 
 
 With that I ups and tells em all 
 about it, from Alpher to Omeger. Thay 
 wus all mitely pleesed, and mity willin, 
 an I went too bed as proud as a young 
 rooster with his fust spurs. Oh, Je- 
 hosaphat, but did'nt I feel good, an 
 keep a gittin that way all nite. I 
 did'nt sleep a wink, but kep a rolin 
 
THE CAMr FOLLOWER. 
 
 19 
 
 about, and a thinkin and a thinkiu, tell 
 I felt like my cup uv happiness wur 
 chock jFull, pressed down, and a runnin 
 over. I'll tell you, sura uv these days, 
 about the weddiu an all uv iliat, an how 
 I dun, an how Sal, she dun, and so forth 
 an so on. 
 
 A Child of Prayer. 
 
 A little child, with chesnut hair. 
 
 And gentle eyes of blue. 
 And rosy cheeks and crimsdT) li]!?; 
 
 Love's owu appropriate hue. 
 Knelt ia the morning's golden blush. 
 
 And raised her small hand.s fair,' 
 And whispered in her lisping tones, 
 
 •'Dear Father, hear my prayer !" 
 
 '.lie smiling sunbeams danced and played. 
 
 Around the iineeling child, 
 And lighted up with holy light 
 
 Her features calm and mild ; 
 . iie amber gleams seemed loth to leave 
 
 Her clouds of waving hair ; 
 And lisieoed while those sweet hp^ said. 
 
 "Dear FatJier, hear my prayer '." 
 
 ( 'li. blessed child, keep ever pure 
 
 From sin's enticing wile. 
 And let thy happy, youthful brow 
 
 Rest ever in God's smile ; 
 And by and by thy feet shall press 
 
 The heavenly mea iows fair ; 
 And thou shalt chant in noble strains. 
 
 '■I''\<ir Father, hear my prayer !" 
 
 Dr. Hall says' men regard their wives 
 as angels one month before marriage 
 and one after death ; and all the rest 
 of the time as — Devils. Oh, doctor, 
 for shame. 
 
 A celebrated writer used to observe 
 that the paradise of the author was to 
 compose, bis purgatory, to revise his 
 production, and his hell, to correct the 
 printer's proof 
 
 flogging a woman, and excused there- 
 for, by saying he was near sighted, and 
 thoufjht it was his wife. 
 
 A wag, speaking of a blind wood 
 sawyer, says that, 'while none ever saw 
 Ijim see, thousands have seen him saw.' 
 
 Rowland Hill said once to some peo- 
 ple wlio had come into his chapel to 
 avoid the rain : 
 
 'Many people are to be blamed for 
 making religion a cloak ; but I do not 
 think thoqe muck i'ftter who make it 
 an umbrella.'' 
 
 A Jersy man was lately arrested for 
 
 A Successful Retort. — A cler<iyman 
 was once accosted by a doctor, a pro- 
 fessed Deist, who asked him 'if b^ fol- 
 lowed oreaching to save souls ?' 
 
 'Yes> 
 
 'Did you ever see a soul ?' 
 
 •No/ 
 
 'Did vou ever hear a soul T 
 
 'No.'' 
 
 'Did you ever taste a soul V 
 
 'No.' 
 
 'Did you ever smell a soul T 
 
 'No.' • 
 
 'Did vou ever feel a soul ?' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 'Well,' said the doctor, 'there are five 
 of the five senses against one, upon the 
 question, whether there bo a soul.' 
 
 The clergyman then asked 'if he were 
 a doctor of medicine ?' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 'Well,' said the clergyman, 'did you 
 ever see a pain V 
 
 'No.' 
 
 'Did you ever hear a pain V 
 
 'No.' 
 
 'Did you ever taste a pain ?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 'Did you ever smell a pain ?' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 'Did you ever feel a pain V 
 
20 
 
 •?HE OAMP POI^OWEm 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 'Well, then, there Are also io^t senses 
 agaiBBt one, upon the question, whether 
 there be a pain ; and yet, sir, yon know 
 that there is a pain, and I kuow that 
 there is a soul. 
 
 The young man who stood on his own 
 meriie, became very much fatigued with 
 the performance. 
 
 The bravest heart oft contains the 
 most humility. 
 
 Whar no Wood is, thar the Fire 
 Goeth out— And they Played on 
 SimbblSj Dulcimers, Je^syshaips. 
 and Demijjhns. 
 
 The following discourse, delivered by 
 that "same old coon, ' the captain of a 
 Mississippi flat-boafc, at a Hard Shell 
 Baptist protracted meeting at Tinicum, 
 was phonographiciilly reported express- 
 ly for the Mercury, h^ ' 'Samuel the 
 Scribe," who was one or the anxious in- 
 quirers f)n that solemn and interesting 
 occasion ; 
 
 My Friends ; Since I had the plea- 
 sure uv holdiu fojth to toe benighted 
 an heathenish rapscallions uv Brandon, 
 Mississippi, on the subjeck — ''An he 
 played on a harp uv a thousand strings, 
 sperrits of just men made perfeck" — 
 the sperrit hath moved me to take up 
 my bed and travel ; and after visiting 
 divus places an propagatin fciie Gospill 
 to varus noini nations, I have at last 
 fetched up, bless the Lord, raong the 
 Hard Siiells of Tinicum. My tex this 
 eveniii, my bretheiing, will be found 
 somewuar tween the books uv Provi- 
 dence an MillRizedick (I think the 
 former) and when fnutid it will read 
 somewhar near as follows: "Wliur 
 no wood is, thar the fire goeth out — an 
 they played on siinbols, dufsimers, jews- 
 harps and dimmyjons." 
 
 Now, my brethering, Fm gwine to 
 say to you as I said to the Brando- 
 nians on a former casion, I'm not ao 
 educated man, but, blesa the Lord, I'na 
 a mighty rcligash man, a man what's 
 born agin — one what sperieneed the 
 holy ghost, and tuk religun in the natral 
 way — for "wbar no wood is, thar the 
 fire goeth out — and they played on eim- 
 bols, dullsimer-, jewsharps and dimmy- 
 jons." 
 
 Now, my brethering, p'rhaps some uv 
 ye are ■ wohderin an arin yourselves 
 what denominashun I longs to. Well, 
 my friends, I'm a plain spoken man, 
 althongh I sea it myself, as oughtent to 
 say it, an I'll tell yer what swayshun I 
 longs to. Perhaps some of ye thinks 
 I'm a Mormon ; some on ye, peradven- 
 ture, spisshuns I'm a Millerite ; sonie 
 moK; on ye may kalkelate I'm a Metho- 
 diss, an others uv ye may imbibe the 
 noshun that I ar a Free Lovyer ; but I 
 tells ye, my brethering, ye are all con- 
 foundedly confumbustercated if ye think 
 any sich thing ; for, in the language of 
 the tex : "Whar no wood is, thar the 
 fire g'^eth out — and they played on 
 simbols, dullsimers, jewsharps and dim- 
 myjons. 
 
 Somehow, I oilers tuck amazing Iiki» 
 to the Baptists, specially to the Hard 
 Shells — not because I'm particularly 
 fond of cold water, for, my brethering, 
 I'm not one uv them ar sort o' Christ- 
 ians that repudiates good whiskey, ok 
 looks a gift horse in the mouth. Thar'8 
 the Rach-shells, the soft-shells, th« 
 clam-shells, an a great many other 
 kind uv shells, but, my brethering, next 
 to the Hard Shells, give me the maa 
 that shells out liberally when the con- 
 tribushun box goes roun— for, "Whar 
 no wood is, thar the fire goeth out — »■ 
 they played on simbols, dullcimers, 
 jewsbarps and dimmyjons. 
 
 Now, my brethering, having told 
 you what swayshun I longs to, I'mi 
 gwyue to exemflicate and lucidate on 
 
WTE CAJtP BJIA-OWKE. 
 
 21 
 
 tttjtes, which se^, "Whar no wood is, 
 tbax the fire goethmit — and they played 
 on fiimbole, dullsimers, jewsharps and 
 dimmyjone. My brethering, don't sup 
 po&e for tlie sixteenth part uv a minit 
 that the firc we read uv in the scripters 
 will go out bekase thar's no wood ? 
 No, my christshun friends, 8o long as 
 the supply of antbersit^ and brimstone 
 holds out, it won't make a dif uv bit- 
 tercnce whether that's any wood or not 
 the fire will be kept burning ; for they 
 played on ^ircbols, dullsinaers, jewsharps 
 and dimmvjonf?. 
 
 My brethering, when, acoordiirto the 
 tex, 1 sez, "they played onsimbols, 
 dullBiiuers, jewsharps and dimmyjoas," 
 I. mean that the good and pi^riiek sper- 
 rits — thcni uv the sixth Bpe--*r -■ -plajs on 
 the sinibols and dullsimers, and the bad 
 sperrits, what lives in the lower speers, 
 plays on the jewsharps an<l diiuinyjons, 
 for, ''Whar Ji* wood is, tJiar the fire 
 goeth out — and tliey played — brether- 
 ing, I smell a mice I Thar's a Judis in 
 this congregashun, sure as Y'iu are 
 livh)g siunere, and he must be dispelled! 
 Ah, I told you so. Thar he i-^, yonder, 
 on that high seat thar, near the stove. 
 That weazen-faced sinner in the bar- 
 skin bang up —a wolf in bar's clothen 
 — Beltin tliar ae innocent as a possum 
 up a eimmon tree, reportin ray lectur 
 phrenologicallj.' 
 
 At this juncture all eyes were fixed 
 upon uur reporter, who also began to 
 '"smell a mice," and hastily thrusting 
 his uotes in tlie po^-'k'.t of his "bar-skin 
 bang up," vamosed through a side win- 
 dow, surrounded by a blaze of glorj 
 and at least a hundred Hard Sibils. 
 — ^M- ■♦••♦• -^m^— — — 
 
 Oroisa pRETTT Fast. — An old man 
 and his son, neither of them very well 
 ittfurmed aa iv the railroads and their 
 uses, chanced to be ai work one day in 
 a tield near a railroad track. Railroads 
 were a novel 'institution' to them, and 
 when a train of cara ahot by^ a thought 
 
 was suggested to the lad, who said to 
 his parent, 'Dad, why don't you take a 
 ride on the cars some day ?' 
 
 'Take a ride in the cars ? why I hain't 
 • got time, my son.' 
 
 'Got time 1 tliundor [ Yo can go any 
 where in the cars quicker than you can 
 [ stay at home.' 
 ' 'Dad's reply is not on recoi-d. 
 
 I No man can avoid his own companj, 
 1 so he had better make it as good as 
 I passible. 
 
 How melancholy the moon must feel 
 when it has enjoyed the fullness of 
 prosperity, and got reduced to its last 
 quarter. 
 
 The last case of absense of mind is 
 that of a ship carpenter, who bit off the 
 end of a spike and drove a plug of to- 
 bacco in the vessel's bottom. 
 
 An Irishman ti-ying to put out a gaa 
 light with nis fiii'/ers, cried out — 
 
 'Ocl), murder ! the devil a wick's in 
 it.' 
 
 — M^av- -«^>-«^ — — — 
 
 'My lad,' said a lady to a boy, car- 
 rying an empty mail bag, 'are jou a 
 mail boy ?' 
 
 'Y<'ii don't think I'm a female boy, 
 do/, you ?' 
 
 'Vat you makes dare?' hastily in- 
 quired a Dutchman of his daughter, 
 who whs being kissed by her sweet- 
 heart very clamorously. 'Oh, not much 
 — just courting a little — that's all.' 
 'Oho ! dat's all, eh ? py tarn. I taught 
 you vas vighting.' 
 
 — -— — *^. -*«*. ■•^^■^— 
 
 "A litllo nonsense now and tiiea 
 Is relished by the wisf^st men !•" 
 
22 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWED. 
 
 'Mary, I'm glad your heel has got 
 weU.' 
 
 'Why ?' said Mary, opening wide her 
 large blue eyes in astonishment. 
 
 'Oh, nothing," said Mag, 'only I sec 
 its al)le to h&flut P 
 
 A gipsy woman promised to show 
 two young ladies their husband's faces 
 in a pail of water. They looked and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 'Why, we only see our faces/ 
 'Well,' said the Gipsy, 'those faces 
 will be your husband's when ^^ou are 
 married.' 
 
 'Ma, didn't the minister say last Sun- 
 day that the sparks flew upward ?' 
 
 'Yes, my dear, how came you to be 
 thinking of it ?' 
 
 'Because yesterday I saw cousin 
 Sally's spark staggering along the street 
 and falling downwards .'' 
 
 'Here Bridget, put this child to bed 
 — she must be sleepy. 
 
 Matrimony should be a sterescope, 
 in which two hearts, though they may 
 slightly differ; -appear to the observer 
 as one. 
 
 If you wish to cure a scolding wife, 
 never fail to laugh at her with all your 
 might until she ceases, then kiss her. 
 Sure cure, and no quack medicine I' 
 
 A shrewd little fellow who just begun 
 to read Latin, astonished his master by 
 the following translation : 'Vir, a man ; 
 gin, a trap. Virgin, a man trap.' 
 
 Waggery. — Seme time ago, ^n the 
 Sabbath day, we wended our way to 
 one of our churches, and instead of a 
 sermon, heard an address upon some 
 missionary or other benevolent subject. 
 After the address was concluded, two 
 
 brethren were sent round with the. bas- 
 kets for contributions. Parson L -^ 
 
 who was one of the basket bearers, 
 taking the side upon which we sat. 
 Immediately in our front, and upon the 
 next seat, negligently reclined our friend 
 Bill H , a gentleman of infinite hu- 
 mor and full of dry jokes. Parson 
 
 L extended the basket, and Bill 
 
 slowly shook his head. ' 
 
 'Come, William, give us something,' 
 said the parson. 
 
 ' Can't do it,' replied Bill. 
 
 'Why not? Is not the cause ;i good 
 one V 
 
 'Yes, but I am not able to give any- 
 thing. 
 
 'Pob ! poh ! I know better, you must 
 give a better reason, than that.' 
 
 'Well, I owe too much money — ;I 
 must be just before I am generous, you 
 know.' 
 
 'But, William, you owe God a larger 
 debt than you owe any else.' 
 
 'That's true, parson, but then Jie ain't 
 pushing me Like the ballance of my cred- 
 itors.'' " ' ■ . 
 
 The parson's face got into rather a 
 curious condition, and he passed on. 
 
 Education does not commence with 
 the alphabet — it begins with a mother's 
 love ; a father's smile of approbation, 
 or a sign of reproof; with a sister's 
 gentle forbearance : with a handful mI" 
 flow(;rs in a green and dainty meadow ; 
 with bird's nests admired, ,but not 
 touched ; with creeping ants, and al- 
 most imperceptible emmets ; with pleas- 
 ant walks in shady lands, and with 
 thoughts directed in sweet and kindly- 
 tones and words to nature, to acts of 
 benevolence, to deeds of virtue, and to 
 the source of all good— to God'himseif 
 
 WoMAx. — Tlic social conquerer •■ f our 
 sex. To surrender is our triumph ; to 
 resist, our misfortune. , 
 
THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 23 
 
 John asked Julia if she would have 
 him. 'No, she said, 'I will not have 
 you ; but before John could recover 
 from the shock, she archly put in. 'but 
 you may have me.'' 
 
 A rural poet has just gotteu up 
 following and retired to private life 
 I wood not die in Spring tiem, 
 wen frawgs begin to crawl — 
 Wen kabbage plats are shutin up. 
 noe ! I wood not die at all. 
 
 the 
 
 All men would be masters of others, 
 and no man is lord of himself. 
 
 NEVER ! 
 
 They will crush us, never I never ! 
 
 While we scorn to wear their chain ; 
 They may seek, as slaves to bind us-*- 
 
 We will rise a-jd strike again : 
 Though each time we fail to thwart them. 
 
 TVe will die than think to yield ; 
 We may perish but we'll never 
 "' Leave a stain upon our shield. 
 
 They may tread our soil bat never 
 
 ' Will we their dominion own, 
 
 We will drive them from our border — 
 
 We will cause their land to moan — 
 We will teach them lore unheeded ; 
 
 They have set with grief to learn. 
 We will bow submissive, never. 
 
 We will still their mission spurn. 
 
 We will be their subjects, never ! 
 
 Let them search the past, whose page 
 Teems with wisdom taught and spoken 
 
 By the patriot and the sage ; 
 We have sworn to know them, never. 
 
 AVhilc the light ot Freedom's sun 
 >hcd3 a lingering ray, we"ll 'mind them 
 
 Of the name of Washington. 
 
 They our braves will conquer, never ! 
 
 We will still be proud and free ; 
 Exiled they may force our loved ones 
 
 From their homes afar to flee, 
 Bat the hearts that nerve us never 
 
 Will to tyrants basely bow, 
 While their livt s the Fonl of honor 
 
 Or the laurel wreathes the brow. 
 
 We will'3well in bondage, never ! 
 
 While the" light that gilds the past 
 Glows with feats of fame and valor 
 
 Or the deeds of heroe's last : 
 We will wear their shackles, never, 
 
 While we think of Greece and Borne, 
 We will vow to fight for ever 
 
 For our birth-right and our home. 
 
 We will be their vassals, never ! 
 
 They our land may desolate — 
 We will build anew our altars, 
 
 And sustain the pride of State ; 
 We will link our fortunes, never, 
 
 To their vandal, thieving race ; 
 We will die, than live to suffer 
 
 As the victims of disgrace. 
 
 We will ask no peace, no, never ! 
 
 While the foe is in our land ; 
 We will scorn the boon when proffered 
 
 With a firm, relentless hand ; ^ 
 We will ask no favor, never ! 
 
 For the God in Heaven above 
 Will reward both Truth and Justice 
 
 With the law of life and love. 
 
 .T. R. BARRICK. 
 
 A Western editor says that, 'a child 
 was run over by a wagon three years 
 old, and cross-eyed, with pantalets on, 
 which never spoke afterwards.' 
 
 'Mother,' said a little urchin the 
 other day, 'why are orphans the happi- 
 est children on earth ?' 'They are not, 
 my child ; but what makes you ask 
 that question ?' 'Because they have 
 no mother to spank 'em.' 
 
 Virtue and Vice. — If thou take pains 
 in what is good, the pains vanish, the 
 good reniai!;? ; if thou take pleasure in 
 what is evil, the evil remains and the 
 pleasure \:.:iishes ; what art thou the 
 worse for j-iiiis, or the, better for pleas- 
 ure, when both are past ? — Euchiridion 
 
 Pride rociiiires very costly food — its 
 keeper's happiness. 
 
24 
 
 TOE OAMP rOIXOVTES.. 
 
 A SCENE IK CAUFORHIA. 
 
 A man, tidily and respectably dressed 
 in a black frock ooat and dark trowsers, 
 bad oome regnlarly for some evenings 
 — this was the seventh — always at the 
 same time and to the same table ; had 
 for a while looked on at the game, and 
 at last dra-wn a linen bag out of his 
 breast pocket, and staked it on a card. 
 On the first evening the card had won : 
 and he shook the bag out upon the table 
 lo count the money. There were twen- 
 ty-eight Spanish dollars, upon which 
 the banker quietly counted out to him 
 4he same sum, and the gentleman walked 
 off with his gains without venturing a 
 second cast. 
 
 On the second evening he came again, 
 staked as before, and lost. Quite cool- 
 ly, however, without even a look of dis- 
 «ontent, he opened the bag, shook it out 
 — it contained exactly the same sum as 
 on the last occasion — then rolled it to- 
 gether and^ thrusting it into hie pocket, 
 kft the saloon. On the third, fourth' 
 and fifth evenings the same thing oc- 
 curred. The gamblers had got used to 
 tibe man, and amused themselves with 
 bis odd ways. Again he lost, and be- 
 haved exactly as before, always taking 
 the bag away with him. 
 
 On the sixth evening — and so exactly 
 had he kept his time, that the gamblers 
 said, laughing to each other, 'It can't 
 be eight o'clock yet ; the eight-and- 
 Iwenty dollar man is not come' — he ap- 
 peared again ; staked as usual, and 
 o»ce more lost. 
 
 The bar keeper, who dispensed hia 
 wines and spirits just opposite to this 
 table, could not forbear laughing aloud 
 as the stranger shook out the money in 
 Ms cool, business like way, as if paying 
 a regular debt for some employer, 
 rather than gambling and throwing 
 away his money. 
 
 Tlie seventh evening came — it was a 
 full minute paat eight o'clock, and one 
 «f the gamblers said. laughing, to the 
 
 other : 'We have used him too badly, 
 we have frightened him away ;' when 
 his comrade pointed over his shoulder, 
 and there "was the man in the blacl: 
 frock-coat making his way to his cue- 
 tomary place, where some who had hap- 
 pened to meet him there before, readily 
 made room for him, and where he qm- 
 etly took his seat, paying ao attentioa 
 to the whispered jokes and laughter 
 around him. Until precisely a quarter 
 of nine, he gravely watched the play, 
 and brought out the well known linen 
 bag, setting it upon the deuce, which 
 was that moment turned up. Two cards 
 were drawn, without the deuce appear- 
 ing — now the ace fell on the left ; and 
 on the right — a scarcely perceptible 
 smile played on' the banker's lips — the 
 deuce I The stranger turned pale as 
 death ; but without uttering a word 
 upon his change of luck, he stretched 
 out his hand for his linen bag, and was 
 untying it, as usual, to count the dol- 
 lars, when the gambler said, laughing : 
 
 'Let it be ; I know how much there 
 is in it. Eight-and-twenty. Am I not 
 right ?' 
 
 'No,' said the man, quietly, and shook 
 out the silver upon the table, shook th« 
 bag again, and after the silver came a 
 roll of closely wrapijed bank notes and 
 folded paper. 
 
 'What is this V cried the startled gam- 
 blers, and the by-standers crowded up 
 full of surprise and curiosity, 
 
 •*It is my stake,* said the man, with 
 seeming indifiereuce, and untied the 
 ribbon that held tlie bank notes ko- 
 gether. 
 
 'Hold 1 That won't do,' exclaimed 
 the gambler, throwing down his cardf. 
 'That is false play. You have counted 
 out only eight-and-twenty dollars Ae 
 other evenings.' 
 
 'False play !' repeated the man, with 
 a threatening frown. 'Prove it to be 
 false play. Did I not place the bag 
 just as it lies there, upon that card ? 
 
■EBE «4JKr roujorviBSi. 
 
 86 
 
 Aaid did yon make any objection to 
 taking it unopened ?' 
 
 'No, no. It is all right, it ie all fair,' 
 <m«d Uie bystanders, always ready and 
 eager to take part against the profes- 
 sional gamblers, who, they feel quite 
 eonvinced. do not play fairly, although 
 they cannot resist the fascination ot 
 the gaming-table, but return again and 
 a^in to be cheated of their money as 
 loogasthey have any to squander there. 
 
 'He has staked and won it, and he 
 mast have it' they said. 
 
 K}ount your money. How much is 
 ft ?' said the gambler, who had whisper- 
 ed a few hasty words to his comrade. 
 'How much is it V 
 
 'Firstly, eight-and-twenty dollars in 
 sfflver;' he replied, slowly, and the others 
 laughed ; 'then here in bank notes — 
 otie, two, three, four, five, six, seven, 
 eight hundred dollars; and then, here — ' 
 
 'What I more ?^ 
 
 'A small bill of exchange upon Smith 
 sad Punueken— aa good as gold and ac- 
 cepted and all, the money only needs 
 fetching for three thousand.' 
 
 Three thousand I' shouted tlie gam- 
 bier„ starting up from his chair, 'are 
 you mad ? That is altogether near tour 
 thousand dollars. I shall not pay that.' 
 
 'Shall you not V said the stranger. 
 'Would you not have taken it, if I had 
 lost it?* 
 
 'To be sure he would ? Of course ! 
 Would he take it ? Ay, all they can 
 get, they take — and a little more !' ex- 
 claimed a number of voices. 'He must 
 pay- -there it no help for it !' 
 
 'Gentlemen,' protested the gambler, 
 in the vain hope of obtaining a vote in 
 his favor, 'gentlemen have staked — 
 
 'And every time lost,' interrupted one 
 of his hearers. 'I have been present 
 several times, and have Ijeard it from 
 others also ; and he has never made 
 the leaa objection to paying.' 
 
 'But that was only twenty-eight dol- 
 lara'' 
 
 'And if i were as many thooeand T 
 
 'Only let me speak,' remonstrated 
 the gambler, who had turned deadly 
 pale, and trembled all over. 'It wae 
 but eight-and-twenty dollars that he 
 shook out upon the table, and the pa- 
 pers he held back . Three times already 
 have I won the same sum from him.' 
 
 'Prove that I had a cent more than 
 the eight-and-twenty dollars in the bag,' 
 said the stranger, contemptuously. — 
 'Such excuses as that won't serve your 
 turn.' 
 
 'Why did you not keep the bag, oom- 
 panero ?' laughed a Spaniard, who stood 
 by ; 'we keep all that is set on the 
 card.' 
 
 'If *he had lost again, nothing more 
 would have come out of that confound- 
 ed linen bag than the trumpery dollars.' 
 said the other, savagely. 
 
 'That's possible ; but you cannot 
 prove it,' returned the lookers on. 'Yob 
 must pay.' 
 
 'You have won a hundred dollars 
 from me in the last half hour,' exclaim- 
 ed a tall Kentuckian, pressing forward 
 over the shoulders of the others, 'and I 
 had to pay up to the last cent ; if yoia 
 reruso to pay him, you must fork that 
 out again.' 
 
 'And mine, tool' 'And mine V 'And 
 mine !' cried many voices together. 'I 
 too. have lost. 'I lost t<;n dollars !' 
 'I lost fifty.' 'I lost five-and-twenty.' 
 *I a pound of gold ! Out with it, if you 
 won't pay.' 
 
 A brother gambler now eame up 
 from a neighboring table, and spoke in 
 a whisper to his unlucky comrade, 
 whilst the tumult was increasing around 
 them. The <jther contended earnestly 
 in tlie same tone for some minutes, but 
 yielded at length to his jx^rsusionti, 
 and they both t<jok the money to count 
 over again ; earofuUy examining the 
 bank notes a« well as the bill, which 
 was drawn ^n one of the first banking 
 houses in the city. 
 
26 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 There was nothing to be said against 
 either the one or the other ; and whilst 
 the stranger, who had recovered his 
 equanimity, sat quietly on, as if the 
 hubbub was no concern of his, the gam- 
 blers counted out to him the money he 
 had won, almost stripping the table of 
 the heaps so ostentatiously piled up. 
 Part of the payment consisted of sever- 
 al packets of gold dust, which the' stran- 
 ger, before accepting, cut open, ex- 
 amined carefully, and then weighed at 
 the counter just opposite, where he also 
 took a glass of brandy. He found all 
 correct and disposing of the gold in his 
 various pockets, he shook what remain- 
 ed into the mysterious linen bag, put 
 the papers and bank notes into his 
 breast pocket, and courteously thank- 
 ing his zealous supporters who returned 
 his greeting with a thundering cheer, 
 he left the saloon. 
 
 His quandum friends laughed and 
 talked over the occurrence for a while. 
 Of all present, there was scarcely one, 
 probably, who did not feel pretty sure 
 that he played false, that he had his 
 bank notes and bills in the bag on the 
 proceeding evening, ready to be pro- 
 duced if he should win; but this they 
 did not call dishonest— it was a clever 
 trick. The gamblers themselves seized 
 upon everj' advantage, fair or unfair, 
 that came in tiieir way ; and every one 
 who had his wits about him would 
 lood out for himself. Such is the mo- 
 rality of the gambling-house ! 
 
 A Wife's Prayer. 
 
 If there is anything that comes near- 
 er to the implorations of rRuth and 
 Naomi than the subjoined, we have not 
 seen it : 
 
 'Lord bless and preserve that dear 
 person whom Thou hast chosen to be 
 my husband ; let his life be long and 
 blessed, comfortable and holy ; and let 
 me also become a great blessing and 
 
 comfort to him, a sharer in all his sor- 
 rows, a helpmate in all the accidents 
 and changes in the world ; make me 
 amiable in his eyes and forever dear to 
 him. Unite his heart to me in the dear- 
 est love and holiness, and mine to him 
 in all its sweetness, charity and com- 
 placency. 'Keep me from all ungentle- 
 ness, all discontentedness and unrea- 
 sonableness of passion and humor, and 
 make me humble and obedient, useful 
 and observant, that we rn^y delight' in 
 each other according to Thy blessed 
 word ; and both of us may rejoice in 
 Thee, having for our portion the love 
 and service of God forever.' 
 
 The Pleasure of being Young. 
 
 Bulwer, in some of his writings, ex 
 presses it as his deliberate opinion that 
 no enjoyment of manhood, no realiza- 
 tion of mature years, compensate for 
 the loss of youth. Richard Henry Stod- 
 dard has given a poetic form to the 
 same truth, in the following lines : 
 There are gains for'all our losses, 
 ' There are balms for all oar pains ; 
 But when youth, the dream, departs, 
 It takes something from our hfarts. 
 And it never comes again. 
 
 We are stronger, and are better, 
 
 Under manhood's sterner reign : 
 Still we feel that sometbiDg sweet 
 Followed youth, with dying feet, 
 And will never come again. 
 
 Somethisg beautiful is vanished. 
 And we sigh for it in vain : 
 
 We behold it everywhere. 
 
 On the earth, and in the air, 
 But it never comes again ! 
 
 Society is even more essential to our 
 intellect than to our humanity. Our 
 affections do not rust as quickly as our 
 minds. It is easier to pervert than to 
 subdue them, while the latter is always 
 pleased to be beguiled into forgetfulness 
 and sleep. 
 
THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 21 
 
 THE TWO WORLDS. 
 
 Two worlds there are. To one our eyes we 
 
 etrain — 
 Whose magic joys we shall not see again : . 
 Bright haze of morning veils its glim- 
 mering shore. 
 Ah, truly breathed we there 
 Intoxicating air — [of 
 
 Ulad were onr hearts in that sweet realm 
 Nevermore. 
 
 The lover there drank her delicious breath, 
 Whose love hiis yielded since to change or 
 dealh : ' 
 The mother kisseii her child wl)Oee days 
 are o'er. 
 Alas ! too soon arc aO-i 
 The irreclaimable deiAil : 
 Wc see them — visions strangt— amiJ the 
 Nevermore 
 
 The merry song some maidens used to sing— 
 The brown, brown hair, that once was wont 
 to cling 
 To temples Ion? clay-cold— to the very 
 core 
 ' They strike our vcary hearts, 
 As bome '^exed memory starts 
 From that long-faced land — the realm of 
 Nevermore. 
 
 It is perpetual samm t there. But here 
 Sadly we may remember rivers clear, 
 
 And harebells quivering on the meadow- 
 floor. 
 For brighter bells and bluer, 
 For tender hearts and truer. 
 People t.at happy land — the realm of 
 Nevermore. 
 
 . Upon the frontier of this shady laud. 
 We, pilgrims of eternal sorrow, ptand. 
 
 Wh'vt realm lies forward, with its hap- 
 pier store 
 Of forests green and deep, 
 Of valleys hushed in sjeep. 
 And lakes most peaceful ? 'Tis the land of 
 Evermore. 
 
 Very hr off it3 marble cities seem — 
 V?-y far ofT — beyond our sensual dream — 
 It8 woods nnruffled by the wild wind's 
 roar : 
 Yet does tha turbulent surge 
 Howl on its very verge 
 
 One moment — and wt breathe within the 
 Evermore. 
 
 They whom we loved and lost so long ago 
 Dwell in those cities far from mortal woe- 
 Hunt those fresh woodlands, whence 
 sweet carolings soar. 
 Eternal peace have they ; 
 God wipes their tears awav : [for 
 They drink that river of life which flows 
 Evermore. 
 
 Thither we hasten through these regions dim, 
 But lo, the wide wings of the S«<i"aphim 
 
 Shine in the sunset I On that joyous shore 
 Our lighted hearts shall know 
 The life of long ago : 
 Toe sorrow-burdened past shall fade for 
 Evermore. 
 
 What did he say, Lydia ? 
 
 Good old Mrs. Call was quite hard of 
 hearing, being somewhat advanced in 
 years. Her daughter, L^'dia, was a 
 bonny lass, who loved a good frolic and 
 knew well how to get one up. Lydia 
 had avrangec^ a junket, and the young 
 men and maids were all on hand. 
 Among the vest was the General, one 
 of "em. In the midst of tlie fun in pop- 
 ped old Deacon L . to see how the 
 
 widow fared. This was a wet blanket 
 upon the merriment, and the deacon 
 held on till Lydia was put out of all 
 patience. She wished that he would 
 go, and by and by, he gets up to depart. 
 
 'Oh, deacon,' said mother Call' 'don't 
 think of going before tea. Oh do stop 
 to tea, won't you V 
 
 The deacon strongly urged replied : 
 
 'Well, 1 rather think I will, as the 
 folks will not expect me home till dark.' 
 
 'What did he say, Lydia ?' said the 
 widow. Lydia had a ready answer. 
 
 'He savs he will not to-day, mother, 
 as the folks expect him home before dark. 
 Why, how deaf you grow, mother.' 
 
 'Ob, well, some other day, deacon ; 
 now won't you 1' said mother Call, as 
 she showed the fleacon out. 
 
28 
 
 OHS «MJilP F>OL-Um£R. 
 
 'Smart gal that,' said the deacon, as 
 ke trudged along: home. 'She'll fiud her 
 "waj through, I'll warrant. 
 
 , How to take JJfe. \ 
 
 Take life like a man — take it by tht' , 
 foa*e-lock, by the shoulders, by the spine, { 
 by every limb and part. Take it just 
 as though it was — as it is — an earnest, 
 vital essential affair. Take it just as i 
 ttiough you personally was born to the j 
 task of performing a merry part in it ; j 
 as though the world had waited for] 
 your oomiug. Take it as though itj 
 was a grand opportunity to do and to i 
 achieve : to carry forward great and * 
 good scheme-s ; to help and clieer a 
 s^iaffering, weary, it may be, heart-sick- ! 
 oaed brother. 
 
 The fact is, life L* unvalued by a 
 great majority of mankind. It is not 
 Hiade half as much of as should be the 
 case. Where is the man or wuman 
 •whb ac<Jomplishes one tithe of what 
 might be done ? Who cannot look back 
 iq)on opportunities lost, plans un- 
 adiieved, thoughts crushed, aspirations 
 imfillod, and all becau.se of the lack ot 
 the noc^asary and possible effort ? If 
 we knew better how to take and make 
 the most of life, it would be far greater 
 tban it is. Now and then a man stands 
 aside from the crowd, labors earnestly, 
 Steadfastly, confidently, and straight- 
 wa becomes famous for wisdi.in, intel- 
 lect, skill, greatness of some sort. The 
 world wonders, admires,, idoliiies ; and 
 yet it only illustrate,^ w :at each may do 
 tf he takes hold of '.'nc witli a purpose 
 — ^by the head and .shoulcjers. If a man 
 hai say he will, and follows it up by 
 the right kind of effort, there ia nothing 
 in reason Iw may not expect to accom- 
 pUfth. There is no raagic, no miracle, 
 m« se-cret to him who is brave in heart 
 and determined ir. spirit. 
 
 — M^ 
 
 i*raiae is aaLv praise wh&u well ad- 
 Areseed. 
 
 Iiove of the Scriptures. 
 
 (>h love the Word of God, 
 To wandering sinners given, 
 
 To teach them all about the road, 
 Tltat leads from earth to beayen. 
 
 It tells ol Him who died. 
 Our peace with God to make ; 
 
 ll allows how God Is satisfied 
 With sinners for hig sake. 
 
 Such precioas promiee? . 
 
 It ^ives lor .time? of need ; 
 Ami ail th't of our home it siys., 
 
 ].« iK'antiful indeed. 
 
 It shows oa what to do. 
 
 If we witli CluLst would dwdl. 
 
 So pitiinly tlat u child may know. 
 Who only it-ads it well. 
 
 Eloquent Appeal of a Clergyman 
 in Favor of the Bible. 
 
 Among a number of speakers present 
 at the semicentennial anniversary of 
 the Pennsylvania Bible Society, cele- 
 brated at Philadelphia, on Wednesday 
 was the Rev. Dr Fuller, of Baltimore. 
 
 He c^)nunenc«d his address witli a , 
 feeling allusion to the absence of one 
 whp had been wont to preside on oe- 
 casioiis like this — Kev. Phillip F. 
 Mayer, D. D., lately deceased. He then 
 spoke of their duty to the Bible, and 
 said that here in Philadelphia, where 
 the first Sunday school was formed, 
 and the first Union Bible Society es- 
 tablished, they should all be found 
 ready to build an altar on which the 
 different sects could bury their enmity 
 and bitterness, an altar over which 
 their children could find an everlasting 
 opposition alike to infidelity and Jesuit- 
 ism which would prevent the diss 'mi- 
 nation of the Word of God ; an alter 
 around which they could all pledge 
 "their lives, their sacred honor, and 
 their fortunes" to sustain the Bible 
 cause. He esteemed it a peculiar honor 
 
THE •AJTP FOLLOWER. 
 
 2f> 
 
 'to b€ allowed to speak in bohalf of the 
 Bible Society on this occasion. H(> had 
 heard it said that the world was grow- 
 ing worse ; yet, he had lived in it and 
 saw it growing better. The world 
 was, he thought, a great deal bettor 
 than it was a hundred years ago, and 
 though he held his opinion of by-gone 
 time he respected this Societ}', not- 
 withstanding it had numbered its fifty 
 years. 
 
 It was the wish of his heart, he said, 
 that the patriots and statesman of this 
 country could be brought to regard the 
 Bible in its true relation to Man ; in the 
 social and physical liberty it furnishes 
 to him. One of the articles of impeach- 
 ment brought by infidels against the 
 Bible was, that it no where inculcates 
 ttrue patriotism. Why, what is patriot- 
 ism ? Had Greece and Rome a true 
 idea of patriotism when they built up a 
 nation on the ruins of another ? Cer- 
 tainly not. When Man is a true patriot, 
 he seeks to elevate the standard of 
 public morals, and who performs this 
 work more effectually than the one who 
 distributes the Holy Bible? Infidels 
 may be found teaching their children 
 from this book, and if asked them their 
 reasons for so doing, they will answer 
 rtiat they must give them lessons in 
 ▼irtue and morals, and nowhere else can 
 tbey be found than here ! 
 
 The speaker then referred to the sub- 
 lime discoveries made by science, and 
 said, though it had performed many won- 
 ders, it liad done nothing to reach the 
 di|ease of the soul and cure it. Philos- 
 ophy, what can it do? In Greece, 
 where philosophy was most understood, 
 it produced a refinement of manners with 
 a dissolution of morals ; it only shows 
 that the Bible alone can elevate the- 
 morals of mankind. It had this power 
 once, and it possesses it now. Again, 
 the Bible will do a great deal tostrength- 
 •n and enlarge the intellect. What 
 book can the human i;iind be brought 
 
 into contact with, from whici it could 
 obtain such inestimable blessings as this 
 one ? %f a man would be a historian, 
 let him study the Bible. If it strength- 
 ens the intellectual and physical being 
 of a man, it follows that it must ever 
 remain the bulwark of our lil>erty. 
 
 He then made a passing allusion to 
 the attempt to exclude the Bible from 
 the public schools of Baltimore, and. re- 
 ferred to the part he took in preventing 
 the design from being carried into exe- 
 cution, and said that just in proportion 
 as the Word of God was circulated and 
 preached among the people of any city, 
 that city would flourish. He then spoke 
 of the inspiration of the Bible, and re- 
 ferred to the influence of familiarity in 
 blunting our sensibilities. Such was its 
 effect, said he, that the fireworks of the 
 schoolboy attract more attention than 
 the noonday sun. He applied this to\ 
 the Bible, which, though a direct com- 
 munication from God. was seldom thought 
 of in this connection. Some person* 
 found it difficult to look at it in this 
 light, but, for himself, it had often been 
 a matter of surprise that Ho had not 
 sent more communications. 
 
 We sometimes hear it said that the 
 Bible is the poor man's book, and'.what 
 joy and consolation does it not bring to 
 their hearts? He had often found a 
 poor man living in an humble abode 
 with more spiritual knowledge than he 
 himself possessed. He thought the 
 rich were too busy with their business 
 letters to think of reading the Lettere 
 of St Paul, and they were too much 
 engrossed in considering their bad debtg 
 to think of their bad deeds. The speaker 
 closed with an earnest appeal in behalf 
 of the Society. 
 
 Clouds are the veil behind which the 
 face of day coquettishly hides itself, to 
 enhance its beauty. 
 
 Downy sleep, death's counterfeit. 
 
30 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 The Search for Happiness. 
 
 The following was one of ^e Com- 
 positions read on the occasion of tho 
 recent examination of the High School 
 of the Second District. It is from the 
 pen of the youngest young lady of her 
 class, Miss Louisa Skinner, aged less 
 than eleven years. We think our read- 
 ers will admit that it evinces the pos- 
 session of a good sliare of the imagina- 
 tive facility of expression : 
 
 A maiden tripped lightly along the 
 flowery path of the fairy forest, and 
 found herself on the brink ol a crystal 
 fountain. Lingering there, she saw 
 bending toward her a delicate white 
 lily, the fairy Queen of the fountain, and 
 she bowed her head in reverence. Then 
 raising it, she dashed back her raven 
 locks, and was about to lay an humble 
 petition before the Queen. The fairy 
 checked her, saying : 
 
 'Maiden, I know your thoughts, and 
 anticipate what you would ask ;' and 
 she held up before the maiden two rich- 
 ly jeweled caskets ; one bearing, in 
 diair.x.d letters, the woi'd 'Riches,' the 
 other, traced in rubies and emeralds, 
 'Beauty.' 
 
 'Give me,' exclaimed the maiden, 'give 
 me Riches. They must surely secure 
 me happiness.' 
 
 'Thou hast thy wish !' said the fairy 
 of the forest, and handed ker the dia- 
 mond lettered casket. 
 
 But soon the maitJen discovered she 
 had not found the boon her heart de- 
 sired. 'Oh !' thought she, 'had I but 
 chosen Beauty — that would have brought 
 me the happiness which Riches never 
 can 1' 
 
 Again she sought the Crystal Foun- 
 tain in the forest, and once more found 
 herself in the presence of the Fairy 
 Queen, attended by her train. Her 
 throne was in the form of a violet, and 
 carved out of the purest sapphire ever 
 seen. Throwing herself at its foot, the 
 maiden said : 
 
 'Fairest of the fair ! Once more listen 
 to the humble suppliant, and give her, 
 oh ! give her Beauty ! Thou hast given 
 me Riches, but they could not satisfy 
 the longings of my soul I'. 
 
 'Enough, maiden ! Thou hast thy 
 wish ; yet remember that bi;t once more 
 wilt thou be permitted even to visits 
 this place. But once more, remember.' 
 
 So sajdng, the Queen and all her train 
 departed, leaving with the maiden the 
 ruby and emerald casket of beauty. 
 xVnd again she thought she had secured 
 the precious boon she sought. Alas ! 
 how was she deceived. There was 
 something wanting yet. 
 
 Again she sought the flowery margin 
 of the fountain, and once more and for 
 the last time invoked the aid of the fairy 
 monarch. 
 
 'Thou, oh Queen,' said she, 'hast been 
 kind, and hast granted me all I have 
 wished, and for this I thank thee. Grati- 
 fy me in but one wish more and I will 
 be content.' 
 
 'What do you seek, fair maiden? 
 asked the Queen. • 
 
 'Happiness ! Pure, unalloyed and 
 las^ng happiness !' responded she. 
 
 'It is not in my power to give thee 
 what thou askest, poor child !' gently 
 Aaid the fairy. 'But I can point out to 
 thee the road which leads to what thou 
 seekest. It is by treading in the path 
 of Virtue, that thou canst not fail to 
 find Happiness, whether thy dwelluig 
 place be in princply halls, or in a lowly 
 cottage.' 
 
 '■ ■ 9 
 
 An exchange tells of a man in Chero- 
 kee county, who buried his wife on 
 Saturday, and at the grave yard en- 
 gaged to marry another woman on Mon- 
 day. In this he was thwarted by the 
 interference of friends, and did not get 
 to marry her until Tuesday, the third 
 day after the burial of his first wife. This 
 is, we believe, the fastest time on re- 
 cord. 
 
THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 Good Humor. 
 
 Keep in good liumor. It is not great 
 calamities that embitter existence ; it 
 is the petty vexationS; small jealousies, 
 the little disappointments, the minor 
 miseries, that makes the heart heavy 
 and the temper sour. Don't let them. 
 Anger is a- pure waste of vitality ; it is 
 always foolish and'always disgraceful, 
 except in some very rare cases, when 
 •it is kindled by seeing wrong done to 
 another ; and even that noble rage sel- 
 dom mends the matter. ivQcp in good 
 humor. 
 
 Xo man does his best except when 
 he is cheerful. A light heart makes 
 nimble hands, and keeps the mind fair 
 and alert. No misfortune is so great as 
 one that sours the temper. Until cheer- 
 iulness is lost, nothing is lost ! Keep 
 in good humor !' 
 
 The company of a good humored man 
 is a perpetual feast ; he is welcomed 
 everjrwhere — eyes glisten at his ap- 
 proach, and difficulties vanish in his 
 presencje. Franklin's ii; lomitable good 
 humor did as much for liis country in 
 the old Congress as Adams' fire, or Jef- 
 ferson's wisdom ; he clothed wisdom 
 with smiles, and softened contentious 
 minds into acquiescence. Keep in good ' 
 humor ! 
 
 A good conscience, a sound stomach, 
 a clear skin are the elements of good 
 humor 1 Get them, and keep them, and 
 — be sure to keep in good humor ! 
 
 Tw^o in Heaven. 
 
 ^''ou have two children,' said I. 
 
 Thave four,' was the reply ; 'two on 
 earth, two in Heaven.' 
 
 There spoke the mother I Still hers, 
 only gone before I Still remembered, 
 loved and cherished, by the hearth and 
 at the board ; their places not jet filled, 
 pven though theii- successors draw life 
 from the same breast where their dying 
 heads were pillowed. 
 
 'Two in Heaven I' 
 
 Safely housed from storm and tem- 
 pest. No sickness there, nor drooping 
 head, nor fading eye nor weary feet. 
 By green pastures, tended by the Good 
 Shepherd, linger the little lambs of the 
 Heavenly fold. 
 
 'Two in Heaven '.' 
 
 Earth less attractive. Eternity near- 
 er. Invisible coids drawing the mate- 
 lial soul upwards. 'Still small voices' 
 ever whisper 'Come !' to the world-weary 
 spirit. 
 
 'Two in Heaven I' 
 
 'Mother of angels !^ Walk softly.— 
 Holy eyes watch thy footsteps ! Cherub 
 forms bend to listen. Keep thy spirit 
 free from earth-taint ; so shalt thou go to 
 them, though they may not return to thee. 
 
 'Fellow-traveler, will you help me out oi 
 this mud-hole?' asked a traveling druggist, 
 who Lad just been compelled to stop his toaia 
 in a mud hole, because his horses could not 
 pull it out. 
 
 'No, I cau't stop,', said the ranbee, who 
 was heavily loaded, and feared be would be 
 too late for the cars. ■' 
 
 'I would take it as a great favor, besides 
 paying you,' said the druggist. 
 
 'What are you loaded with V asked the 
 Yankee. 
 
 'Drugs and medicines,' said he. 
 • '1 gHess I'll try to get you out, then, for 1 
 am loadel with tombstones.' 
 
 They were seen travelino together after 
 that. 
 
 'Say, Sambo, where does de Yankee? puffer 
 most?' 
 
 'Why, in a'e feet (defeat) to be sure. What 
 you ask such silly questions for, Jake?' 
 
 'Molly,' said Joe Kelly's ghost to his wife, 
 'I'm m purgatory at present,' 
 
 'What sort of a place is it ?' 
 
 'Faix, it is a sort of half-way house between 
 you and heaven, and 1 stand it very aisy after 
 leaving you.' 
 
 A weak mind is ambitious of envy ; a strong 
 one of respect 
 
32 
 
 IKB 9X1ICP F02i£<0W®B. 
 
 THE CHAMPION. 
 
 HISTOBY. 
 
 The clang of arms and the iaspiinting sounds 
 of martial music resoaoded tbroagU the •oart- 
 yard of the palace o{ f^avarre. ITie chivalry 
 of Arragon, Oistih, and Navarre had assem- 
 bled at the snmmons of their sovereign, to 
 fight ander his banner againat the infidels, and 
 now waited impatiently for the moment when 
 the monarch shoald mount his gallant stee i, 
 and lead them to battle and to victory. 
 
 Sancho the Fourth was at that moment 
 bidding farewell to his queen, the gentle Dona 
 Nuna, who clung to her lord in an agony of 
 tears. 
 
 •Be comlorted, my beloved,' ke said to her ; 
 'I shall return to y>ia with add- J laurels to 
 my kingly wreath. Do not fea • for me. nor 
 let your sweet face grow pale I y brooding 
 over the dangers and chances ol war. For 
 my part, I never (elt more exalting anticipa- 
 tions ot sucees.", and am persuaded that triumph 
 and victory will crown our undertaking.' 
 
 'Alas ! it is not so with me,' said Nuna, 
 sadly. 'A presentiment of approaching evil 
 weighs heavily on my heart.' 
 
 'You shudder at. the thought of our separa- 
 tion, Nuna, more like a timid young bride 
 parting from her newly- wedded lord, ti'an a 
 matron who biis stiared her husband's joys 
 and sorrows for well nigh twenty years-' 
 
 'You are now far diarer to me, Sancho, 
 than when I gave you my hand : have I not 
 to thank you for the love and tendernes'^ 
 which has made these long years of weddtd 
 life so blissful and happy ?' 
 
 *Ia Boolh, I believe, Nana, it is even so ; 
 and jou love me as warmly as ever- Receive 
 my assurances in return, dear wife, that your 
 I'aoe is as fair to me and the gift of vour true 
 heart as fon ly prized, as when I first 1' d yon 
 ti tht'se balls, my youthful and bfautifui bride. 
 But siifier me to bid you far well, or my robles 
 will wax impatient. 1 leavrf vou to the so 
 ciety ot our son, and the guardinnsbip of m\ 
 trusty Pedro Seae, who will attend to youi 
 behests. One word more. I iiinrust to yom 
 safe keeping ray beautiful ete-d, Ilderim. You 
 know how I v.ilue the nob'e animal, my fir^i 
 capture from the Moor. See that he is care 
 fully tended m rny absence, I shall accept 
 it as a proof of your regard for my wishes^. 
 JLnd now, adieu, dearest wife. Think of me. 
 
 and supplicate Heaven that I may bespeedWy 
 and seifely restored to your arms.' 
 
 So saying, Sancho the Great, tenderly ejn- 
 braced hie wife ; and mounting his war charger, 
 placed himself at the head of his gallant anny.^ 
 The clatter of horses' hoofis soon died away io 
 the distance, leaving th« eourt-yar.l of the 
 castle in silence and gloom. 
 
 Three days after Qie king's departure^ the 
 young Don Garcia Entered the court-yard o^ 
 the palace at Navane. 
 
 'Pedro Sese, Pedro Sese!' Jie cried, ''my 
 noble Arab El Toro lies dead in a cleft of the 
 rocks ; I hnv? returned to seek another steed 
 for the "h JK ■ ; such a boar hunt has not beea 
 among the i.nriits of Navarre .since the Fy- 
 rennees echoed lo the horn of Roland : give 
 me forth black Ilderim. Pedro rny friend ; 
 saddle me my father's charger, for there is no 
 other steed in the king's stables worthy of the 
 hunt to-day 1' 
 
 'Don Garcia,' replied the master of the 
 horse, 'black Ilderim is only for the king's 
 mounting. I djre oot saddle him for any 
 other.' 
 
 'But the Infante commands it — the kb 
 that is to be.' 
 
 'Chafe iiui, w.th a faithful servant,, Don 
 Garcia: it '•- bat yesterday I refused the 
 same reque-i ( f the bastard of Arragon.' 
 
 •"iVbat! darest thou compare me with tbft 
 base-born Ramiro?* Insolent! I shall beer 
 my complaint to the queeii.' 
 
 To the queen Don Garcia fbore his com- 
 plaint and his petition: 'Oh, my mother, 
 would*' thou see me di honored by a menial? 
 Am I not thine only son, the rightful heir of 
 Arragor?, Oastile and Navarre ? who may 
 command here, if I may fiot ? Assert my ao- 
 thority, then, and order the false Pedro Sese 
 that he give me forth black Ilderim.' 
 
 'Ptdr ) Be e hath faithfully discharged hi« 
 duty to my lord, the king, who enjoined on 
 him and on me the safe keeping of his favorite 
 horse,' taid Dona Nuna. 'The royal ■kbies 
 are open ; take, my son, any other steed, bat 
 leave black Ilderim till thy father's return.* 
 
 'Nay, by Heaven and by the saints, I will 
 have Ildetim to ride this day, OP I will hare 
 vengeance I' * 
 
 Ttie headstrong youth returned to the court, 
 yard, and again demanded the steed ; agarn 
 the maater ot the horee refused. Don Garcia- 
 
 Ipale with concentrated rage, sprang on another 
 of the king's chargers, and galloped Irom the 
 palace. Ina.eftd, however, of returning to th« 
 
THE CAMP F«M.©WBR. 
 
 33 
 
 hunt, he urged his horse into the despooiado, 
 or open plaia, lying to the south of the castle, 
 and disappeared on the road to Burgos. 
 
 Time passed heavily, in her lord's absence, 
 with the gentle Nuna. At first, she received 
 frequent and joyful tidings of the successes 
 which crowned hia arms, and the brilliant 
 victories gained by his forces over the Moslem 
 army. Of late, and since the departure of 
 Garcia from the castle, Sancho's affectionate 
 dispatches had altogether ceased ; and Nnna, 
 now thoroughly wretched, from the wayward 
 perversity of her son, and from uncertainty as 
 to her husband's fate, had prepared to rejoin 
 him at any risk, and share the perils to which 
 he might be exposed. 
 
 Her resolution was no sooner formed than 
 it was promptly carried into effect ; she sum- 
 moned to her aid the trusty Pedro Sesc ; and, 
 protected by a small escort under his com- 
 mand, bade adieu to Xavarre, and commenced 
 her long and perilous jourfaey toward the 
 theatre of war. 
 
 The little cavalcade had reached Najarre, 
 when, to .their surprise and joy, they beheld a 
 gallant band of horsemen rapidly approaching; 
 the united banner of Arragon, Castile, and 
 Navarre, floating proudly before them, an- 
 nounced to all beholders that Sancho the 
 Fourth led his knights in person. 
 
 Nona's heart beat fast and tumultuonsly ; 
 in a few moments, and the long absent one 
 would clasp her closely to his breast. She 
 looked up to the master of the horse who rode 
 by her side, an.d urged him to increased speed. 
 They moved briskly forward , and the ad- 
 vanceing knights who formed the king's body- 
 guard became more distinctly visible. " Saucho, 
 as we have said, headed them ; but as soon as 
 they had arrived within a short distance of 
 the queen's followers, the monarch advanced a 
 few paces, and in tones of thunder called on 
 them to halt. His brow was darkened with 
 evil passions, his countenance flushed with 
 anger. 
 
 'On the peril of your allegiance !' he shouted, 
 rather than spoke, 'seize th& traitress, I com- 
 mand ye ! My heart refused to hearken to 
 the tale of ,her guilt, even when spoken byv 
 the lips of her son ; but mine eyes have spon 
 it. I have lived-r- wretched as I am — to wit- 
 ness her infamy. But the adulteress, and ihe 
 companion of her crime, shall not eseape my 
 righteous vengeance. See to it, that the queen 
 and Pedro LJese remain your prisoners.' 
 
 If a thunderbolt had fallen at the feet of the 
 
 miserable Nuna, she could not have been more 
 horror-strack, or more confounded. Her life- 
 long dream of happiness was dissipated ; the 
 htisband of her youth had recoiled from her as 
 from the veriest reptile that crawls on the face 
 of God's earth ; and the worker of her woe 
 and ruin was her own child — her own flesh 
 and blood — her son Garcia! Who would 
 believe her to be pure and innocent when such 
 lips pronounced the tale of her guilt ? Un- 
 happy wife ; still more unhappy mother ! In 
 the deepest dungeon of the castle of Najarre 
 she was left to mourn over her uaparalleled 
 misery. Alone, unfriended, and solitary, Nu- 
 na — who so lately had seen herself a beloved 
 and cherishetl wife, a fond mother, and a mighty 
 sovereign — straggled with her bitter and 
 mouruM reCcctions. She could not reproach 
 her husband, for she felt that his ear had been 
 poisoned against her by an accuser he could 
 scarcely mistrust, even by the insinuations of 
 her son, confirmed — as be deemed them to be 
 — by the evidence of his .senses, when he met 
 her so unexpectedly traveling under the escort 
 of Pedro Sese. 
 
 But short space waa left to Nuna for these 
 agonizing thoughts. Death, a shameful death, 
 was the punishment of the adulteress ; but 
 Sancho, more merciful than she had dared to 
 hope, had granted her one loop-hole for escape 
 — one slender chance of proving her innocence. 
 The lists were to be open to any champion be- 
 lieving in the lady's guiltlessness, who should 
 adventure his life in her defense. If any such 
 should proffer his services, be might do battle 
 in single combat with her accuser. God — -ac- 
 cording to the belief of those days — would 
 give victorv to hira who maintained the 
 truth 1 ' ■ •• 
 
 The fatal day approached, arrived, and had 
 well nigh passed. Gracit, unopposd, bestrode 
 his war-steed, the redoutable black Ilderim, 
 whose possession he had so eagerly coveted, 
 an4 purchased at so fearful a price. The dis- 
 crowied queen, in conformity with custom, was 
 placed within sight of the arena, tiod to a 
 stake, surmounting what world prove h«r fune- 
 ral pile if no champion apptarcd on Jier behalf, 
 or if her defender should suffer defeat. 
 
 Who can paint the agitation of Dona Nuna, 
 thus plaaed within view of the lig<^. wlicn the 
 precious hours passed, one by one, and no 
 champion sloorl forth in defense of lier purity 
 and truth ? She was about to ros!:;ri herself 
 hopelessly to her inexorable uA?, whan the 
 sound of a horse's tramp was heard, approaali- 
 
34 
 
 THE ©AMiP r««.'LO^nWBE. 
 
 ing at a rapid pace ; and a knigbt, in eomptete 
 armor, moirated on a cfaarger, whose foamrog 
 moath and reeking sidra told that be had been 
 ridden at a fearful pace, dashed into the lists, 
 flung down bis ganntlet of defiance, and an- 
 nounced that bci was cc«ne to do battle in 
 behalf cf the falsely-accused, bnt stainless and 
 guiltless queen. 
 
 Thafe was an involuntary movement among 
 the assembled multitude when Garcia prepared 
 for the inevitable encounter. None knew, or 
 could gucs-s, who the knight might be. No 
 device nor emblem, by which his identity 
 would be discovered, could be traced on his 
 helmet or on his shield ; but the ease with 
 which he Purmocnled his eteed, and -us grace- 
 ful arid gallant bearing, evicCQd that he was 
 an accomplished warrior. 
 
 In a few £C coeds, the preliminary airauge^ 
 ments were complete ; and, with lances in rest, 
 the oppontnls approached. In the first en- 
 counter, to the amazement of all, Garcia was 
 unhorsed, and fe!! heavily to the ground. 
 
 'She is innocent ? She is innocent !' shouted 
 the mnltiludc. 
 
 'God be praii-ed ! though I have lost a eon/ 
 was the subdued ejticu'ation of the king. 
 
 'I am prepared, in deleuse of the much-in- 
 jured lady, tc do eombtit to the death,' said 
 the etranger knight. 'Bate and dastardly 
 villain ! confes;! thy unnatural crime, or pre- 
 pare to meet me once more, when I swear I 
 will not let thee escape eo lightly.' 
 
 Garcia Levitated ; he was evidently torn by 
 couliicting emotions. Oonscious gaiJt — fear 
 ot the JQSt retribution of Heaven, executed by 
 the stranger's avengiug sword — urged him to 
 confess his villainy. On fhe 'other hand, ap- 
 prehensions of the execrations of the multitude, 
 and the indignation of his injured parents, re- 
 strained bim from making a frank avowal of 
 his crime. 
 
 'Remount, miscreant ! and make ready for 
 another encounter, or confess that you have 
 lied in your throat,' exclaimed the stranger, 
 sternly. 
 
 Before Garcia could reply, an aged and 
 venerable ecclesiastic threw himself between 
 the. (i, j;ntu u.'i?. 
 
 'lu the name of Heaven ! 1 command ye to 
 iritbhnld fiom this unnatural plrife>' he ex- 
 claimed, addressing them; brothers areyo; 
 the bloid ol a common lather flows in your 
 veins. Ramiro, forbear. Qarcia, the combat 
 this day lias testified to your guilt ; make the 
 
 only at<Mieaattent in your power, by a full coe- 
 fessioD.' 
 
 BjaculatioD3 of astonishment and ]Mty burst 
 from all the spectators. 'Long live the noble 
 bastard ! The base-bom has made base the 
 well-bom ! The step-son has proved the true 
 son ! Praise be to the virgin, the motha* of 
 the people hsis not been left without a godson 
 to fight for her !' And all the matrons, and 
 many even of the hardened warriors among the 
 multitude, wept with tenderness and joy. 
 
 In a few moments the agitated queen fouod 
 herself in her husband's arms. He implored 
 her forgiveness for the porrow ehe had endured; 
 nor could she withhold it, even for a moment 
 when she listened to the avowals of the de- 
 graded Garcia, who confessed how, step by 
 step, he had poisoned his father's mind by 
 tales pf her infidelity, in revenge for her re- 
 fusal, and that of Pedro Sese, to intrust him 
 with Sancho's favorite charger, black Ilderim. 
 
 Nnnu turned from her abject son, »ind mo- 
 tioned her young ehampron to approach. He 
 knelt. at her feet. 
 
 'Ramiro,' she softly .said, as she unclasped 
 the helmet and visor which concealed the 
 handsome features ol S.^ncho'.s illegiiimale 
 son, 'cliild of my afiections, for whom I have 
 ever felt a mother's love, though I have not 
 borne for thee a mother's paine ; how shall I 
 thank thee? Thou hast this day more 1 ban 
 repaid the tenderness I lavished on thy infant 
 years. Thou hast made clear my fair fame 
 ♦0 all men ; even at the risk ol thy own young 
 life.' 
 
 'I would lay down life itself for such a friend 
 as you have been, a ,d esteem the sacrifice 
 light,' rejoined Ramiro, with deep emotion. 'I 
 remember my childish days — before you came 
 tc Navarre, a bright, happj', innocent bride — 
 '■hen I wandered Ibi-ough ray father's palace 
 an unloved and neglected boy ; and I can re- 
 call vividly the moment when you first en- 
 countered me, and. struck by the resemblance 
 I bore to the king. Furmise'd the truth. In- 
 stead of hating me wi h the unjust aversion of 
 an ungenerous nature, you took the despised 
 child to your heart, and, for the love you bore 
 your lord, you loved and clierisbed his base- 
 l)orn eon. For the genial atnv sphere you 
 created around me, and- in which my afiectionfl 
 expanded, and for the care you have bestowe^ 
 on my education, J owe you i debt of grati- 
 tude far deeper than ever child bore bis own 
 mother. Nature dictates maternal love, m 
 the one instance — but it is lo tlie suggestiouB 
 
TIM; «AM? T>OLLOWBR. 
 
 35 
 
 of a noble and generoas heart that I have been 
 indebted for the happiness of my life. Ton 
 owe me no thanks — for, for such a friend no 
 sacrifice can be too great.' 
 
 Nuna tamed to the king, and. taking his 
 hand in hers, l>laccd it on the head of her 
 young champion. 'I have brought you king- 
 doms as ny dower,' she said, -bat I have not, 
 alas ! brought jou a sou so worthy as Ramiro 
 of bcLug their ruler. I freely forgive the In- 
 fante the suffering he has caused mc, and hope 
 that, with advancing years, he will cultivate 
 the virtues in which he has shown himself to 
 be deficient. I'ut Ramiro has already given 
 evidence of the possession of those exalted 
 qualities which insure the happiness cf a peo- 
 ple when possessed by their rulers. Invest 
 him then, at my entreaty, with tlie crown ol 
 Arragon ; receive back to your confidence our 
 faithful Pedro Sf.se ; ajul snffer uie to forget 
 my past griefs in the anUcipation of a love 
 which shall never again bein*errufited.' 
 
 The king raided his hand in assent : and t':e 
 assembled multitude conSrmed the investiture 
 with one mighty shout — 'Ramiro ! Bainiro ! 
 long live Ramiro ! Infactc of Arragon !' 
 
 To the Stars and Stripes. 
 
 The Strano^er's; Grave. 
 
 No -longer bright banner as erst it was, 
 Innured in blood, dishonored with shame. 
 
 The type of a people of honor devoid — 
 Unworthily a nation — uniKrlhy a name, 
 
 .7. E. !■'. 
 
 PaBGe. Pleasure and liove. 
 
 BY ABKV M. UEMANWAV. 
 
 0, fanie is bright and l'1 rious, 
 
 It dazzles mortal eyes ; 
 And eager thousands seek to win 
 
 The high and glittering prize. 
 
 And pleasure wears a magic wreath 
 
 So gaily trips along, 
 That many follow in hrr train, 
 
 Lured by her witcliug i.ojg. 
 
 But love beneath the rose tree sits, 
 And sings eo soft and sweet, 
 
 That far more charmed, her votaries 
 Their offerings at her feet. 
 
 lay 
 
 Alone I alone I the stranger sleeps, 
 
 In solitude and gloom ; 
 Xo friendly eye above bim weeps — 
 
 No flowers o'er him bloom ! 
 
 He died from home, in foreign landa^ — 
 
 Across the bounding wave ; 
 His eyes were closed by stranger's hands.. 
 
 >Aj}d strangers made' his grave. 
 
 Upon a lone and huncri spot, 
 'Iliey raised hi-; .=;Iui;l.' mouod ; 
 
 By somb bemoancol, "by a!l forgot, 
 &. dreary grave he found I 
 
 Aboy?j his graVe, no evergreen 
 Its fnithful Jeaires eatwrne ; 
 
 No !oV;iig vine ciih Ihere be .vcen. 
 To shade afl^nt ion's shrin'. . 
 
 When all is f^uVi al close of day, 
 
 And stars peep, out above, 
 No mourniDg friend goes there to i-iaj-. 
 
 Or drop a tear of love'! 
 
 One lonely pine, above ihe sppt 
 Keeps loud .and )iollo\v moan ! 
 
 The winds bew.all his friendless lot, 
 And whispc-r— ail _ alone I 
 
 Oh ! when I bid a last farewell 
 
 'J'o all that's bright below, 
 Oh ! let my vision proudly dwc'i 
 
 On scenes I used to know. 
 
 The verdant fickis—tho meadows bright- 
 Toe streams I nslii to roam — 
 
 Oh ! let the.«e glad my failing sight ! 
 Oh ! let me die at "^hcme I 
 
 Let friendly hands my cyc'ids sea4 
 
 For deaths eternal sleep ; 
 Lkt loving hearts around me feel, 
 
 And friends above mc weep ! 
 
 A man may have a thousand acquaintances 
 and not a friend among them. If you bare 
 ot:e true fiicnd. then you may ihink yoursel/^ 
 happy. 
 
36 
 
 TBE «AB^ FOLLOWER. 
 
 Sentiments Beautiful and True. 
 
 To be careful is the way to guard agaiastcare. 
 
 The pebbles' in our path weary us and make 
 us footsore more than the rocks, which only 
 require a bold effort to surmount. 
 
 A good moral character is the first essential 
 quality in a man. It is, therefore, highly im- 
 portant to endeavor not only t© be learned, 
 but to be virtuous. 
 
 Those who are the most faulty are the most 
 pioue to find faults in others. 
 
 The great sources o*f happiness are under- 
 standing and cheerfulness. 
 
 If we did not corrupt our nature, our nature 
 would not corrupt us. 
 
 There is more hop'e for a fool than of him 
 that is wi.?e in his owh conceits. 
 
 The best way to condemn bad traits is by 
 practising good ones. 
 
 All is vanity '-that is not honest, and there 
 h no solid wisdom but in real piety. 
 
 The man who hesitates to receive a favor, 
 v.'jJi ever be the most grateful. 
 
 His praise is lost who waits till all com- 
 mend. 
 
 Love sacrifices all thi'jgs to oless the thing 
 it loves. 
 
 There are reproaches which praise, and 
 praises which slander. 
 
 A sentence well couched, takes both the 
 
 sense and the understanding. - ' 
 
 They that do nothing are m the readiest 
 way to do that which is worse than nothing. 
 
 Chance corrects us of many faults thai reason 
 would not know how to correct. 
 
 Shakspeare needed not the spectacles of 
 books to read nature; he looked inward and 
 found her there. 
 
 Common opiiions often conflict with com- 
 mon sense ; for reason in most minds is no 
 match for prejudices, a hydra, whose heads 
 grow faster than they can be cut off. 
 
 What field so fertile is there as to yield as 
 much as beneficence ? 
 
 The greatest difficulties are always found 
 where we are not looking for them. 
 
 The physically blind feel their infirmity ; 
 but what shall we say of the morally blind ? 
 
 Peace is the evening star of the soul, as 
 virtue i« its «ua, and the two are never far 
 apart. 
 
 Clouds are the veil behind which the face 
 of day coquettishly hides itself, to enhance its 
 beauty. 
 
 Poetry and philosophy revolve around the 
 same centre, and differ, like <.'omets and fixed 
 stars, only in the orbit they describe. 
 
 If any one say he has seen a just man in 
 want of bread, I answer that it was in some 
 place where there was no other just man. 
 
 As the soil, kowever rich it may be, cannot 
 be productive without culture, so the mind, 
 without cultivation, can never produce good 
 fruit. 
 
 As it is in himself alone that man can find 
 true and enduring happiness, so in himself 
 alone can he find true and efficient consolatfon 
 in misfortune. 
 
 With the vulgar and the learned, name^ 
 have great weight ; the wi?e use a writ of in- 
 quiry into their legitimacy when they are 
 advanced by authority. 
 
 It is often better to h ive a great deal of 
 harm happen to one : a great deal may arouse 
 you to remove what a little will only accus- 
 tom you to endure. 
 
 Orpheus, according to the poets, melted 
 tigers by his chants : the God of Christrians, 
 in calling men to the true religion, has done 
 more, since he has softened the most ferocious 
 kind of animals — men themselves. 
 
 Content is to the mmd like moss to a tree ; 
 it bindeth it up so as to stop its growth. 
 
 Among arms, said the Roma n author, laws 
 are silent. Among arms, we may add, the 
 temples of prayer are voiceless. 
 
 Love dies by satiety, and forgetfulness inters it. 
 
THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 61 
 
 DEACON SItflTH'S BULL. 
 
 OR MIKE IN A TIGHT PLACE 
 
 BY SCKIGGIKS. 
 
 Mike Fink a notorious Buckeye hunter 
 was cotemporary witn the celebrated Davy 
 Crocket, and his equtl in all things appertain- 
 ing ' the human prowes?. It was even said 
 '.hat the animals in his neighborhood knew the 
 crack of his rifle, and would take to the first 
 intimation that Mike was about. Yet strange 
 though true, he was little known beyond bis 
 immediate ''settlement." 
 
 When we knew him he was an old man — the 
 blasts of seventy winters had silvered over 
 his Iiead and taken the elasticity from hislirah?; 
 yet in the whole of his lif? wa.= Mike never 
 wori5tecl, except on one occasion. To u?e hia 
 own language, he never "giu in, used up, to 
 anything that travelded on iwo leg? or. f^iur," 
 but once. 
 
 "That once, we want." said Bill Siisher as 
 some dozen of ns sat in the bar room of the 
 ouiy tavern in the "settlement." 
 
 •'Gin it to us now, Mike, you've promised 
 long enough, and yoa are old now, and need'nt 
 carev contiruihi Bill. 
 
 'Right, right! Bill.' said Mike, 'out we'll 
 open witli licker all round fi.gt, Tt'li kind o' 
 save my foelins, I reckon — " 
 
 'Thar, that's good. Better than t'other 
 barrel, if anything!' 
 
 'Well, boys,' continued Mikt*, 'you may talk 
 o' Toar scrimmages, tight places and sich like 
 and subtract all together in one almighty big 
 'iin, and they haint no more to be compared to 
 the one I war in, than a dead kitten to an old 
 she bar ! I've fout all kind o' varmints, from 
 an Ingin down to a rattlesnake ! and never was 
 willin to quit first, but this once~«nd 'tivns 
 with a Bull ! 
 
 'You see, boys, it was an awlul hot day in 
 August, and I war nigh runnin oil' into pure 
 iie when I war thiiikin that a dip in the crc* k 
 nioit save me. Well, thar was a mighty nice 
 place in old Deacon Smith's mcddcr for that 
 partic'lar bizzincss. So I went down amongst 
 the bushes to unharness. I jist hauM the old 
 red shirt over my hea-l, and war thinkin how 
 scromptious a teller of my size would feel 
 walk 1 in round in that ;ir water, and was jest 
 boat goin in, when I ^w d the Deacon's bull a 
 makin a Bline to whfir I stood. 
 
 ' f kuowd the old cuss, for he'd skarcd more 
 people tlmn all th? parsons o' the settlement. 
 
 and cum mighty near killiu a few. Thinks I, 
 Mike you are in rather a tight place — get 
 your fixins on, for he'll be a drivin them big 
 horns of his in ycr bowels afore that time ! 
 Well, you'll hev to try the old varmint naked, 
 I reckon. 
 
 'The !:ull war on one side o' the creek and I 
 on t'other, and the way he made the sile fly 
 for a while, as if he war diggin ray grave, war 
 distressin ! 
 
 'Come OB, ye bellerin old heathen said I, 
 and don't be staudin thar ; for, a3 the old 
 Deacon says o' the devil, 'yer not comely to 
 look on.' 
 
 'This kind o reach his undorstandiu and 
 made him more wishious, for he hoofed a little 
 like and made a dive. And as I don't like to 
 stand in any body's way, I sin him plenty 
 searoom ! So he kind o' passed by me and 
 came out on t'other side ; and, as the Captain 
 o' the Mud Swamp Rangers, would say, bout 
 face for another charge.' 
 
 'Though I war ready for 'im this time, he 
 come mighty nigh runnin foul o' me ! So I 
 made up my mind ihe next time he went out 
 he would'nt be alone. So when he passed, I 
 grappled his tail, and he pulled me out on the 
 "ile, and as soon as we was both a top of the 
 bank, eld brindle stopped and war about corn- 
 in round agin when I began pullin t'other 
 way. 
 
 'Well, I reckon this kind o' riled him, for he 
 fust stood still and Iool-e>^ at h;c for a spell, 
 and then commenced pawin and bellerin, and 
 the way he made his hind gearin play in tl 
 air, war beautiful! 
 
 'But it warn't no use, he couldn't tech nic, 
 so he kind o' stopped to cet wind for somethin 
 devlish, as I judged by the way he started. 
 By this time 1 had made up my mind to stick 
 to his tail as long ns it stuck to his back-b. it^ 
 I did'nt like to holler for help, nuther, kn-.' it 
 war ogin my prineipl«', and then the D.'acpn 
 had preachin at his ho.ise, and it wasn't 1/ 
 oB nuther. 
 
 'I knowcd if he hern tlie noise the hull am- 
 gregalion would come d'^wn ; and" as I warn't 
 a marrid ninn, and had a kind o' hankerin 
 arter a gal that war«tliur, I did'n feel as if I 
 would like to be seen in that ar predicamen*. 
 
 'So, .says I, you old sarpent, d ; yor cus-fi- 
 est! And so Le did; for he i rug me nvi-' 
 every brier aud stump in the field, until I war 
 sweatiu and b'eedin like a fat bar wiih a pack 
 o' hounds at his heels. And my name aint 
 Mike Fink, if the old critter'^ tail and I did'nt 
 
THE CAMP FOLLOWER. . 
 
 blow out sometimes ai a dead level with the 
 vasmint's back. 
 
 'So yon may kalkelaLe we uride good dms. 
 Bimeby he slackened a little aad then I had 
 'im for a spell, for I jist drapped behind ii 
 stump and ttiav snubbed tlie critter ! Now, 
 gays I, yon'Il pull up this "ere white oak—" 
 break yer tail, or ,jest bold on a bit till I blow. 
 
 'Well, while t war scttin thar, an idea 
 etrnck me that I had beftcr bo a gottia out o' 
 that in some way. But Iww, adzackly, was 
 the pint. If I let go and run he d be a ioul o' 
 me sure. 
 
 'So lookin at the matter in all its bearings, 
 1 cum to the conclusion that I'd better let 
 somebody know whar I was. So I gin a yell 
 louder than a locomotive whistle, aad it warn't 
 long afore I seed the Deacon's two dogs a 
 ccmh; down like as if they war seein which 
 couiu get thar fust. 
 
 I know'd who they war arter— they'd jine 
 the bull agin me, I war sertin, for they war 
 awful wenomous and had a spite agin me. 
 
 'So, says I, old brindle, as ridm is as cheap 
 as walkin, on this rout, if you've no objections, 
 I'll jist take a'deck passage on that ar back 
 o' yourn. So I was'nt long gettin abtrid of 
 him. and then if you'd "ave sworn thar warn't 
 nothin human in that ar mix ! the sile flew 
 so orfully as the critter and I rolled round tlie 
 field — one dog on one side and one on t'other, 
 Iryin to clinch my feet. 
 
 "■I prayoxl and cussed, pnd cussed and prayed, 
 until I ccald'nt tell which I did last— and 
 
 neither 
 mixed t; 
 'Weli. 
 v/ay, wh: 
 stop to t 
 
 rnt any uae, they war so orfully 
 
 reckon I rid about an hour in this 
 old brindle thought it war time to 
 c in a supply o' wind and cool off a 
 ..ttle. So when he got round to a tree that 
 stood tla-. he uatrally halted. 
 
 •Now, siiys I, old boy, you'il lo3(: one pas- 
 secger, eavtuin. So I jist clam upon a branch, 
 kalkelatin to roost thar till I starved, before 
 I'd be rid round in that ar way any longer. 
 
 'I war a makin tracks for the top of the 
 tree, when I heard sumthin makin an orful 
 buzzin over head. I kinder looked up and if 
 thar war'nt— well tear's no use a swarin now, 
 hnr it wai' the 'oiggist hornet's nest ever built. 
 You a in in, now, I reckon, Mike, case thar's 
 1)0 kelp for you. Bat an idea struck me then, 
 that I'd stand a heap better chance a ridin the 
 old bull than whar I war. Says I, old feller, 
 if joa'il hold on, I'll ride to the next station, ' 
 anv 'I'^w. let that be whar it will. So I jist J 
 
 drapped aboard him agin, and looked alolt to 
 see what I'd gained in ehangiu quarters ; and 
 gentlemen, I'm a liar if thar warn't near a 
 half a bushel of the stingin varmints ready to 
 pitch upon me when the word go was given. 
 
 '"Well, I reckon they got it, for all hands 
 started for our company. Some on em hit 
 the dogs, about a quart struck me, and the 
 rest charged on old brindle. This time the 
 dogs led ofi' first, dead bent for the old Dea- 
 con's, and as soon as old brindle and I could 
 get under wiiy, we followed. And as I war 
 only only a deck passenger, I had nothin to 
 do with stecrin the craft, I swore if I had we 
 should'nt have run that channel no how. 
 
 'But, as I|said afore, the dogs, took the 
 lead — brindle belerin and the hornetts buzzin 
 aad stingin! I didnt say nothin, for it warn't 
 
 no US;' 
 
 '"Well, we'd got about two hndrc-d yards 
 fjom the hou,«e . the Deacon hern us and come. 
 1 seed hira hold up Jiis hand and turn white! 
 I r%on he was prayin. then, for he didn't ex- 
 pect to be called for so soon, and it want long 
 neither, afore the hull congregation, men, 
 women and children, cam out,, and then all 
 hands went to yellin. 
 
 'Xone of em had the fust notion that brin- 
 dle and I belonged to this world. I turned 
 ray head and possed the hull congregation. I 
 seed the run would be up soon- for brindle 
 could'nt turn an inch from a fenc3 that stood 
 dead ahead. Well, we reached that fence, 
 and I went ashore over the old critter's head, 
 landing on t'other side and lay thar stunned. 
 It warii't long afore some of em as war not so 
 scared cum round to see wkat I war. For all 
 hands kaikelated that bull and I belonged to- 
 gether. But when brindle walked off by him- 
 self they seed how it war, and one of em : aid,' 
 ^Mike Fink has giit the %m:<tt of the scrimmage 
 once ill liis life .'' ' 
 
 'There is no object so beautiful to 
 me as a conscientious young man. I 
 watch him as I do a star in Heaven,' 
 'That is my view — exactly,' sighed Miss 
 Josephine Hoops, as she laid dow^n the 
 volume ; 'in fact, I think there's nothing 
 so beautiful as a young man even if 
 he ain't conscientious.' . . 
 
 ' One day. of domestic felicity is worth 
 a ve'ar of gaiety, • 
 
THE CAMP POl-LOWER. 
 
 3y 
 
 A Thrilling Romance. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 She stood beside the altax. with a 
 
 wreath of orange bads upon her head 
 
 — upon her back the richest kind of 
 
 duds — her lover stood beside her with 
 
 \ids and dickey clean — the last was 
 
 twenty-one years old, the fust was 
 
 seventeen . 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 8hc stood beside the wash-tub, with 
 her red hands in the suds, and at her 
 slip-shod feet there stood a pile of dirty 
 duds ; her husband stood beside her, 
 tfie Grossest man alive ; the last was 
 tv^enty-nine years old, the fust was 
 twenty-five. 
 
 The heavy w«sh was over, and 
 the clothes hung out to dry ; and Tom 
 had stuck^is finger in the dirty baby's 
 eye. Tom had been spanked and sup- 
 per made upon a crust of brec^d, and 
 the bride and bride-groom went srumb- 
 ling to bed. 
 
 Tsvo Vievrs of Life. 
 
 A young man recently committed 
 suicide at Richmond, Va., who, before 
 he plunged into the unknown, wrote for 
 the world, tliat life was a farce, happi- 
 ness a humbug, and the cares and trials 
 before him onl}^ a prolongation of sor- 
 row ; and so he rounded the farce with 
 a tragedy, and surrendered a treasure 
 he had not the resolution to keep.— ^ 
 Another man once lived whose trials 
 and cares were doubtless greater than 
 any this young man's timid fancy ever 
 suggested ; and after he had braved 
 them all with a stout heart and unfal- 
 tering faith, and his eye looked beyond 
 the curtain which parted before him, 
 and the full effulgence from the Land 
 of the Blessed poured upon his enrap- 
 tured vision, left as a legacy to those 
 who should come after him, to inspire 
 them with courage aud cheer them on- 
 
 ward, these immortal words : "The 
 time of my departure is at hand. I 
 have fought a good fight, I have finished 
 my course, I have kept the faith ; hence- 
 forth there is laid up for me a crown of 
 righteousness, which the Lord, the 
 righteous Judge, shall give me at that 
 day, and not to me only, but to all them 
 also that love his appearing.'' How 
 utterly despicable the views of the one 
 appear when contrasted with those of 
 the other. 
 
 The Mocking Bird of Resaesfc- 
 
 "Wavorly," the accomplished corres- 
 pondent of the Appeal, who was an eye 
 witness and participator in the late 
 battles in North Georgia, gracefully 
 and eloquently relates the following 
 pretty incident of the battle of Resaca : 
 
 In the hoHest of the battle of Sunday, 
 a shell came screaming through the air 
 from the works in front of our left. It 
 paused above a point where Generals 
 Johnston and Polk were standing, whis- 
 tled like a top above them, and before 
 exploding, whistled half a doi^en notes 
 olear as a fifo to the drum-like rattle of 
 musketry. The din had scarce died away, 
 and the fragments fallen to the ground, 
 when the attention of the party was 
 directed to one of the upper boughs of a 
 tall pine, where a mocking bird had 
 begun to imitate the whistle of the shell. 
 Neither the roar of cannon, nor the 
 rain of balls could drive this brave bird 
 from its lofty perch. It sat above the 
 battle field like a little god of war, its 
 blythe tones warbling over the din of 
 arrati — 
 
 '•In p • i>.--; strains of unpremtditated art,' 
 and its stout heart as f^ee as though it 
 swelled t > the breezy winds of peace in 
 summer wt/ods. Thou Toaclistone of 
 the battle field, mocking the very air 
 of death and pouring out a cherry can: 
 tide for the slain, \vh> are happy in 
 I dying foi' the land tbey love, thoa art 
 
40 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 the true type of the great Confederate 
 heart. Be it, like thine, as bold and 
 free. May it swell as it is pressed, and 
 grow as it hurls back the vandal and 
 invader. May it stand upon its own 
 doorsil, as that gallant bird stood upon 
 the bough of the pine, and trill a chaunt 
 of defiance in the face of danger, and 
 though despair scan its boney fingers 
 about its throat, may its armies take a 
 lesson from thy pli ck, thou valliant 
 mocking bird, and sing in the breach 
 ■and about on the hills, to the music of 
 minie ball and schrapnell, never doubt- 
 ing, never daunted, defying the power 
 of the word, and obedient only to the 
 God of the oniverse. For he who dies 
 in the front dies in the love of the Lord, 
 and there is not a sentiment truer for 
 the soldier than that the brave who 
 perish in the cause of liberty are thrice 
 blessed above the la:cy sons of peace. 
 "Nor man nor monarch half so proud, 
 As he whose flaar becomes his shroud." 
 
 The Battle of Life. 
 
 The battle of life, in by far the greater 
 number of cases, must necessarilyi be 
 fought up hill, and to win it without a 
 struggle were perhaps to win it without 
 honor. If there were no difficulties, 
 there would be no success ; if there 
 were nothing to struggle for, there 
 would be nothing achieved. Difficul- 
 ties may intimidate the weak, but they 
 a«t only as a stimulus to men of pluck 
 a»d resolution. All experience of life, 
 indeed, serves to prove that the impedi- 
 ments thrown in the way of human 
 -^vanccmcnts may for the most part be 
 'overcome by steady, good coaduct, 
 eanest zeal, activity, perseverance, and, 
 above all, by a determined resolution 
 to surmount difficulties and stand up 
 manfully against misfortune. 
 
 Revenge is ever tiie pleasure of a 
 paltry spirit, a weak and abject mind. 
 
 It will not always do to follow the 
 example of illustrious men. To illus- 
 trate this we will give the following 
 story, told by a newspaper writer of 
 himself : 
 
 When young, he heard the well known 
 story of George Washington's love , of 
 truth, and his father''s love of the noble 
 principle of his son, so well manifested 
 on the occasion referred to, of George'e 
 cutting down the cherry tree, acknow- 
 ledging his transaction, and receiving a 
 full and free pardon, besides praisas and 
 kind caresses from his father. So Jim, 
 actuated by so noble an example, 
 thought he would try the experiment 
 on. He supplied himself with the 
 hatchet, and going into his father's 
 orchard, cut dowi^ some of the choice 
 fruit trees. He then coolly sat down 
 to await the old man's coming ; ae 
 soon as he made his appearance, he 
 marched up to him with a very impor- 
 tant air and acknowledged the deed, 
 expecting the next thing on the pro- 
 gramme to be pardoned with tears, 
 benediction and embraces from the 
 oflfended parent. But sad to relate, 
 instead of this, the old gentleman caught 
 up a hiskory and gave him an "all- 
 fired-lammina*- " 
 
 Allow a boy to run at large one year 
 in indolence, and you have laid the 
 foundation whereon will be built his 
 future ruin. 
 
 Ax Emperor ox War. — I have been 
 enthusiastic and joyful as anj' one after 
 a victory ; but I also confess, that even 
 the sight of a field of battle has not 
 only struck me with horror, but even 
 turned me sick ; and now that I am ad- 
 vanced in life, I cannot understand any 
 more than I could at fifteen years of 
 age, how beings, who call themselves 
 reasonable, and who have so much fore- 
 sight, employ this short existence, not i 
 
THE CAMP F»LL9WER. 
 
 41 
 
 in loving and aiding each other, and 
 passing through it gently as possible, 
 but, on the contrary, endeavoring to 
 destroy each other, as if Time did not 
 himself do this with sufficient rapidity ! 
 What I thought at fifteen years of age, 
 I still think ; 'wars, with the pain of 
 death which society draws upon itself, 
 are but organized barbarism, aa inheri- 
 tance of the savege state, disguised or 
 ornamented by ingcnioKs institutions 
 and false eloquence. 
 
 ^ ^.».Oi 
 
 Mr Smith : Having been recently 
 within Yankee lines near New Orleans 
 where I had often the pleasure of read- 
 ing the following squib to the great de- 
 light of many captured, but not con- 
 , quercd, and presuming its circulation 
 was not commensurate with its merit, I 
 beg leave through your valuable pages 
 to introduce it again to our people, 
 knowing it will be apprecietcd as one 
 of the best mock-heroics of the war. The 
 irony is as keen and delicate as Saladin's 
 scimetar, and the defensive attitude in 
 which 'old grand-ma' places 'our Fed'- 
 ral hero' is irresistibly ludicrous. The 
 incident occurred during the life-time of 
 our great Captain, hence the allusion to 
 him. Leighton. 
 
 The Rebel Sock. 
 
 A True Episode in Seward^ s Raids on 
 
 the Old Ladies of Maryla7id. 
 
 BY TENELLA. 
 
 In all the pride aud pomp of war 
 
 .The Lincolnite was drest, 
 High beat bis patriotic heiart 
 
 Beneath bis armored vest. 
 His maiden sword bung by bis side. 
 
 His pistols botb were rigbt. 
 His shining spurs were on bis liool-. 
 
 His coat was buttoned tight. 
 A firm resolve sat on bis brow. 
 
 For be to danger went, 
 By Seward's self that day be was 
 
 On secret service sent. 
 'Monht and away !' he sternly cried 
 
 Unto the gallant baod. 
 Who all equipped from bead to heel 
 
 Awaited his command. 
 'But halt, my boys — before we go 
 
 These solemn words I'll say, 
 'Lincoln expects that every niau 
 
 His duty'll do to-day !' 
 'We will ! we will!' the soldiers cried, 
 
 'The President shall see 
 That we will only run away 
 
 From Jackson or from Lee !' 
 And now they're off, just four score men. 
 
 A picked and chosen troup, 
 And like a hawk uiftin a dove 
 
 On Maryland they swoop. 
 From right to left, from house to bouse. 
 
 The little army rides, 
 In every lady's wardrobe look 
 
 To see what there she hides ; 
 They peep in closets, trunks and drawers ; 
 
 Examine every box. 
 Not rebel soldiers now they seek, 
 
 But rebel soldiers' socks ! 
 But all in vain — too keen for them 
 
 Were those dear ladies there, 
 And not a sock or flannel shirt 
 
 Was taken any where. 
 The day wore on to afternoon, 
 
 That warm and drowsy hour, 
 When Nature's self doth seem to feel 
 
 A touch of Morpheus' power ; 
 A farm-house door stood open wide, 
 
 The men were all away, 
 The ladies sleeping in their rooms. 
 
 The children all at play. 
 The bouse dog lay upon the steps. 
 
 But never raised his head. 
 Though crackling on the gravel walk 
 
 He beard a stranger's tread ; 
 Old Grandma, in her rocking chair, 
 
 Sat knitting in the ball, 
 When suddenly upon her work 
 
 A shadow seemed to fall ; 
 She raised her eyes and there she saw 
 
 Our Fed'ral hero stand, 
 His little cap was on hia head, 
 
 Ilis sword was m bis hand ; 
 While circling round and round the house 
 
 His gallant soldiers ride, 
 To guard the 0])en kitchen door 
 
 And the chicken coop beside ; 
 Slowly the dear old lady rose 
 
 And tottering forward came, 
 And peering dimly through her 'specks,' 
 
42 
 
 THE GAMP POLLOWER. 
 
 Said, 'Honey wbafs your name ?' 
 Tben as she raised her withered hand 
 
 To pat his sturdy arm — 
 There's no one here but Graodmama, 
 
 And she won't do you harm ; 
 Oome, take a seat and don't be scared, 
 
 Put up your sword, my child, 
 I would not hurt you for the world,' 
 
 She gently said, and smiled. 
 'Madam, my duty must be done, 
 
 And I am firm as rock !' / 
 
 Then, pointing to her worii, he said, 
 
 'Is that a rebel sock T 
 Yes, honej', I am getting old. 
 
 And for hard work aiu't fit, 
 But for Confed'ratc soMierS still, 
 
 I thank the Lord, can knit.' 
 'Madam, your work is contrabaad. 
 
 An 3 Congress confiscates 
 This rebel sock which I now seize. 
 
 To the United States.' 
 'Yes, honey, don't be scared, for 1 
 
 "Will give it up to you.' 
 Then slowly from the'half knit sock 
 
 The dame her needles drew. 
 Broke off her thread, wound up her ball 
 
 And stack the needles in — 
 Here, take it, child, and I to-night 
 
 Another will begin !' 
 The soldiemext his loyal heart 
 
 The dear-bought trophy laid, 
 And that was all that Seward go; 
 
 By this 'old woman's raid." 
 
 Raw From the Emerald Isle, 
 
 In the Municipal Court, Boston, late- 
 ly, an honest but rather green Hiber- 
 hian was called as a witness in a cer- 
 tain case, when the following questions 
 and answers passed between the county 
 attorney and the 'gentleman from the 
 ould country.' The object in introduc- 
 ing this witness was to show the time 
 when and the place where the witness 
 first became acqr\ainted with the pris- 
 oner on trial. The attorney asked, — 
 
 'Where did you first see O'Brien V 
 
 •In Aist Boston, sir.' 
 
 'Where in East Boston T 
 
 'In the dock, yer honor.' 
 
 'In the dock I — what was he doing in 
 the dock ?' 
 
 'Standin' still, an' it piaze ye.' 
 
 'For what was hq standing- still in 
 the dock ?' 
 
 'Kaze he was thired, I 'spose, sir.' 
 
 'What business had he in the dock V 
 
 'What baizness had he ? An' sure he 
 had the same baizness that onny of 'em 
 had.' 
 
 'What, and whose dock was it?' 
 
 'The dock down by the wather — Mr. 
 Stimson's dock' 
 
 'What season of the year was it?' 
 
 'Don't know, sir.' 
 
 'Was it in warm or cold weather ?' 
 
 'Warm, your worship.' 
 
 'In what month was it ?' • 
 
 'July an' sure.' 
 
 'Are you quite sure it was in July V 
 
 'Yis sir.' 
 
 'How are you sure that it was in 
 July that you first saw John ?' 
 
 'Jim Sullivan tould me 'twas.' 
 
 'Then, of your own knowledge you 
 do not know that it was in July that 
 you first saw John O'Brien ?' 
 
 'Yis sir.' * 
 
 'Might it not have been in June that 
 you met him !' 
 
 'In June, d'ye say ?' 
 
 'Yes ; was it not in June that you 
 saw him ?' 
 
 'Och, no, yer worship ; I tould ye 
 -'twas in the dhry dock, sir.' 
 
 AD in the room here smiled — not in 
 Tom McLean's however. Mr. Cooley 
 continued, as soon as he had fairly 
 'puckered up' again, — 
 
 'Now, witness, can you say positively 
 whether it was before or after indepen- 
 dence Day that you met O'Brien ?' 
 
 ' Nather one, sir. The first thime I 
 met 'im he was alone in the sthrate, 
 sure.' 
 
 'Very well,' replied the attorney ; 
 'now. answer my question — was it be- 
 fore or after Independence Day that 
 you saw John in the dry rlock '!" 
 
 •* 'Pon me sowl, I don't know Mr. In- 
 dependence Day. I knows Jemmy 
 
THE GAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 43 
 
 Day, an' sure he was not there, sir.' 
 
 And audible tittering- followed the 
 honest confession ; the Sheriff called 
 'silence,' and the Court, jury and attor- 
 ney all looked sober again, whether 
 they were so or not. 
 
 'Witness, now can you tell me what 
 mouth comes before July ?' 
 
 'I don't know what y© mane, sir," said 
 witness, perfectly bewildered. 
 
 'What month foUoWs July T 
 
 'Sure, an' 1 don't bother mesilf wid 
 the larnin' uv sichlike thrities, yer 
 lionor.' 
 
 'Well ; do you kul.'^v what Indepen- 
 dence Day is, or when it comes !' 
 
 'Faix an' I don't. The time bez short 
 since I came from Lowell, an" it\s few 
 persons I knows in Astc Boston." 
 
 'You know when St. Patrick's Dav 
 is ?' 
 
 'Siventaanth of March, sir.' 
 
 'And wlien Christmas comes !' 
 
 'Twinty-fefth Deciraber.' 
 
 'And yet yon can tell nothihg about 
 lndepcnd«ncc Day ?" 
 
 'Devil a word, yer worship ; he may 
 live in Astc Bo.>-t.on, but it's me candid 
 opinion he's nut workin' in anny uv the 
 yards or docks there.' 
 
 Here the witness was allowed to take 
 his 'sate,' when the Court adjourned to 
 take dinner and an airinsr. 
 
 No Great Hand for Angels. 
 
 Last Monday an old lady entered a 
 well known bookst<:>rc and inquired for 
 a 'Treatise on Ang-eJs.' She made the 
 inquiry of a boy, and was told they 
 'hadn't got no sucli book.' 
 
 This remark caught the ear of the 
 principal salesman, and he stepped for 
 ward and addressed the old lady : 
 
 'We are just out of the book you are 
 in search of, ma'am, but we've got 
 Fox's book of Martyrs, crammed full of 
 pictures— a splendid book for a pre- 
 sent ' 
 
 'La, sakea ! dew tell,' exclaimed the 
 the customer, examining the book ■ 
 'why, here's a picter of a ehap drinkin' 
 pizen, and here's a lot of men sawin' a 
 poor feller's head off.' 
 
 'That gentleman there, ma'am,' ex- 
 plained the salesman, elucidating the 
 picture, 'is taking a melted lead sanga- 
 rec ; and the other individual is about 
 to be perforated in the intestines with 
 a patent manure fork. 1 gues« you'd 
 like it much better than a work on an- 
 gels.' 
 
 'Well, now, thatar is a better book, 
 I guess, than anything else. What 
 mought the price be !' 
 
 'Two dollars, ma'am — very cheap 
 book at that.' 
 
 • 'AV'ell, dew, it up. My darter's jest 
 got married, and I calkelate to make 
 her a present. She wanted suthin' 
 about angel.?, but I never was so great 
 a hand for angels, no how.' 
 
 The lady handed out four parcels, 
 each containing fifty coppers, the whole 
 savoring powerfully of maccoboy snuff. 
 
 The sale completed, and the customer 
 gone, the principal called up the boy. 
 'See, here,' said he, 'when you arc 
 asked a for thing which you haven't got 
 always show the nearest article like it 
 that you have.' 
 
 'The urchin looked reflective, and 
 came near to asking the resemblance 
 between 'Lives of the angels' and 'Fox's 
 Book of Martyrs!' But a^ this might 
 have cost him a rebuke from the prin- 
 cipal, he wisely kept quiet, and the af- 
 fair passed off. 
 
 A Propkller. — Scene, doorstop of a 
 tip-top fashionable mansion-house— An 
 Emerald Isle damsel, on important bus- 
 iness, rings — Lady of the mansion 
 about to open to let her husband pass 
 out, — 
 
 Irish Girl. — 'Good mornin' ma'am, 
 and ye, too, sir. Ah, an' ye's the girl 
 what wanta (he ladv ? 
 
44 
 
 THE GAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 Lady. — 'No. I am the lady who 
 wants the girl. Can yon do general 
 housework V 
 
 '0 yes, ma'am.' 
 
 'Can you do chamber-work ?' 
 
 'No, ma'am.' ' 
 
 'Can you cook ?' 
 
 'No, ma'am.' 
 
 'Can you wash ajad iron ?' 
 
 'No, ma'am.' 
 
 'Can you make bread ? 
 
 'Indade, no ma'am ,' 
 
 'Then, my dear girl, you won't isuit 
 me.' 
 
 Girl, quite astounded — 'Howly Vir- 
 gin ! I never came to this counthry to 
 shoot auybody, ma'ani, an' if I don't 
 shoot ye, the divil shoot ye — an' the 
 divii shoot the man what don't shoot, 
 the lady ! Good momiV rha'am.' 
 
 Exit Irish girl, and door closes with 
 a ffood-humored laugh at the incident. 
 
 Philosophy. — First class in Oriental 
 Philosophy stand up. 
 
 'Tibbies, what is life ?' 
 
 'Life consists of money, a 2:40 horse 
 and a fashionable wife.' 
 
 'Good 1 Next, what is death V 
 
 'A^paymeut that settles everybody's 
 debts, and gives them tombstones as re- 
 ceipts in full of all demands.' 
 
 'What is poverty ?' 
 
 'The reward of merit genius generally 
 receives from a discrimining public' 
 
 'What ^s religion i" 
 
 'Doing unto others as you please-, 
 without allowing a return (jf the com- 
 pliment.' 
 
 'What is fame V 
 
 'A six line puff in a newspaper, while 
 living, aud the fortune of your enemies 
 when dead.' 
 
 'Next and last. Which is the quickest 
 and easiest method to reach Heaven V 
 
 'Ask the Camden and Amboy Rail- 
 road Company.' 
 
 'Class dismissed — go home to your 
 dinners.' 
 
 Military Catechism,. 
 
 BY COL. T. C. J*****. 
 
 Scene— School-room — Class in Military 
 affairs stand up. 
 
 Question. What is the first duty of ^ 
 Brigadier General ? 
 
 Answer. To swear by note. 
 
 What is the second dutj' ? 
 
 To drink eve*'y day a large quantity 
 of bad whiskey. 
 
 What is the third dut\' ! 
 
 To be constaHtly astonished tliat 
 these and other feats do not bring him 
 a Major General's commission. 
 
 What is the first duty of a Colonel ? 
 
 To lut three stars on his collar. 
 
 What is the second duty ? 
 
 To see that his regiment is never put 
 to such useless work as drilling in the 
 School of the Battalion. 
 
 What is the third dutj ? 
 
 To imitate the Brigadier Generals in 
 a small way, especi&lly in the fine arts 
 of swearing and drinking. • 
 
 What is the first duty of a Captain ? 
 
 To forget all the promises he made 
 to the boys when he was elected, and 
 put on dignified airs in the presence of 
 his old associates. 
 
 Wh^it is the second duty ? 
 
 To get a finer uniform than his Colo- 
 nel. 
 
 W^hat is the third duty ? 
 
 To become the best pnker-player in 
 the array. 
 
 What is tiie first duty of an Adjutant 
 General ? 
 
 To become so hufiish that cVery one 
 will dislike to do business with him. 
 
 What is the second duty ? 
 
 To fill his office with young squirts, a 
 clerks and assistants, to look fiercely at 
 visitors. 
 
 What is the third drdy ? 
 
 To perpetually iutiigue for a higher 
 position in the line, provided it is not 
 attended with personal danger. 
 
THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 45 
 
 What is the duty of a regular aid ? 
 
 To make himself important. 
 
 What is the second duty ? 
 
 To make himself very important. 
 
 What is the third duty ? 
 
 To look upon those gentlemen who, 
 through patriotic motives, or admiration 
 of his chief, volunteer , to serve the 
 country without compensation, in the 
 capacity of an aid, as a sort of inter- 
 loper that interferes with his impor- 
 tance. 
 
 What is the first duty of a Quarter- 
 master ? 
 
 A great Captain has laid down the 
 three great duties of this officer. He 
 says the first duty is to make himself 
 comfortable. 
 
 What does he say is the second 
 duty ? 
 
 To make himself damned comforta- 
 ble. 
 
 What does he lav down as the third 
 duty ? 
 
 To make everybody* else damned un- 
 comfortable. 
 
 What is the first duty of a Commis- 
 sary ?. 
 
 To take all the delicacies provided in 
 tlf^army for his own use. 
 
 UVhat is the second duty ? 
 
 To share sparingly said delicacies 
 with his friends, and never let them go 
 into such vulgar places as the mouths 
 , of'sick soldiers. 
 
 What is the third duty ? 
 
 To be very particular to see that the 
 requisitions for rations arc in proper 
 form — all the t's crossed and i's dotted— 
 when presented by soldiers who are 
 sick or who have had nothing to eat for 
 three or four days. 
 
 What is the first duty of a ' Medical 
 Director ? 
 
 To permit the sick and wounded tu 
 ta^e care of themselves ? 
 
 What is the second duty ? 
 
 To learn the sick and wounded to be 
 of little trouble to the medical depart- 
 
 ment, and to this end to constantly sh ip 
 those mortally wounded*, or in extremes, 
 to distant points, without attendants, 
 and without anything to eat or drink. 
 
 What is the third duty ? 
 
 To emply a good part ol his time in 
 cursing the physician, in charge of 
 those distant hospitals, forj letting so 
 many of the sick and wounded die. 
 
 What is the first duty of a surgeon ? 
 
 Under the names of drugs and medi- 
 cines, to purchase a full supply of good 
 liquors. 
 
 What is the second duty ? 
 
 To cause all private collars to be 
 searched, and all the good brandies 
 found there to be confiscated, lest the 
 owners should smuggle them to the 
 soldier, give them away and make the 
 whole army drunk. 
 
 What is the third duty ? 
 
 To sec that he and his assistants 
 drink up all of said liquors. 
 
 What is the fourth duty ? 
 
 To wear the largest amount of gold 
 lace, and be always absent from the 
 post of da nger and of duty. 
 
 W^hat is the first duty of a Chap- 
 lain ? 
 
 Never to mention the subject of re- 
 ligion to the soldiers. 
 
 What is the second duty? 
 
 To preach to the regiment only once 
 a year, and not then unless specially 
 requested by*he Colonel. 
 
 What is the third duty ? 
 
 To grumble all the time about the 
 smallness of his pay. 
 
 What is the first duty of pickets ? 
 
 To go to sleep on their posts. 
 
 What is the second duty ? ' • 
 
 To wake up when the enemy's pick- 
 ets invite them to come over and take 
 a drink. 
 
 What is the tliird duty ? 
 
 To be 'driven in' upon the explosion 
 of the first Bhell. 
 
 WTiat is the first duty of an army ? 
 
 To destroy as much private property 
 
46 
 
 THE CAMP POL-LOWER. 
 
 as possible, particnlavly that belonging 
 to its friends. 
 
 What is the second duty ? ■ 
 
 To parole all prisoners taken from 
 the enemy who are known to have 
 burned houses, stolen negroes or mur- 
 dered, women. 
 
 What is the third duty ? 
 
 Always act on the defensive and 
 never invade the enemy's territory 
 however good may be the opportunity, 
 although he may be ravaging yours all 
 the time. 
 
 What is tic iirst duty of the Govern- 
 ment ? 
 
 To fill all its important posts with_ 
 Yankees and foreigners. 
 
 What is the second duty ? 
 
 To deliver its chief cities without 
 striking a blow. 
 
 What is the thu-d duty ? 
 
 Never to learn from experience. 
 
 What is the first duty of the South- 
 ern people ? 
 
 To keep out of the army. 
 
 What is the second duty ? 
 • To make all the money they can out 
 of the Govermnent and the soldiers, as 
 was come seldom. 
 
 What is the third duty ? 
 
 To surrender the entire trade in shoes 
 and clothing — on which trade the army 
 is dependent — to tJiat patriotic class of 
 men known as Jews, who are too con- 
 scientious to charge the govocnment or 
 the army a profit exceeding two thou- 
 sand per cent. 
 
 What is the fourth duty ? 
 
 To let success cause a relaxation of 
 their exertions, and see in evei-y little 
 reverse the ruin of our cause. 
 
 That will do — take your seats. 
 
 Bill Aip, The Roman Runagee 
 
 Mr. iditur: "Remote, onfrended, melan- 
 kollj, Blow," as somebody eed, I am nowseek- 
 ia a log in Bome vast wilderness, a lonely r»ost 
 in some Okeefeenokee swamp, where the fowl 
 invadere cannot travel nor their pontoon bridgea 
 
 phloat. If Mr. Shakepeere were correa when 
 
 be writ that "ewcetare the juices of adversity, " 
 
 tbe^n it are resunabul to Buppose that me and my 
 
 foaks and many others must have some sweet- 
 
 nin to spare. When a man 15 aroused in the 
 
 ded of night, and smells the approach of the 
 
 fowl invader ; when he feels konstrained to 
 
 change his base and beknm a runagee from his 
 
 home,;|leavin behind him all those ususary things 
 
 which bold body aqd soul together ; when be 
 
 looks,' perhaps the last time, upon his lovely 
 
 home where he has been for many delightful 
 
 years raisin children and chickens, strawberries 
 
 and peas, lie soap and inyuns, and all such 
 
 laxuries of this subordinate life ; when he 
 
 imagines every onusual sound to be the crack 
 
 J of his earthly doom ; when from sich influences 
 
 j he begins a dignified retreat, but soon is koo- 
 
 i strained to leave the dignity behind, and git 
 
 I away without regard to the order ot his going 
 
 I — if there is any sweet juice ia the like of that, 
 
 I I havent been able to see it. No, Mr. Kditur, 
 
 i sich scenes never happened in Bill Shakspeer'f^ 
 
 I daV, or he wouldcui have writ that line. 
 
 i don't knoNv ih:Vi V.n- lovely inhabitants of 
 your butifulsitty need any fourwarnins to make 
 'em avoid the breakers upon which our vessel 
 wrecked ; but for fear they should some day 
 shake their gory locks at me, I will make publik 
 a breef allusion to some of the painful sirkum- 
 stances which lately okkurred in the regions of 
 the eternal sitty. 
 
 Not many days ago, the cverlastin Yankees 
 (may they live always when the devil gits em) 
 made a violent oseault upon the sitty of the 
 hills — the eternal sitty, where a hundred years 
 the Injun rivers have been blendin their waters 
 peacefully together — whera the Choktaw chil- 
 dren built their flutter mills and toyed with 
 frogs and tadpoles while these jnajestik streams 
 were but little spring branches a bablin along 
 their sandy beds. For 3 days and nights or.: 
 valyunt troops had beat bak the fowl invader, 
 and saved our pul'ets from their devourin jaws. 
 For 3 days and nights we bade farewell to every 
 fear, luxuriating upon the triumph of our arms, 
 and the sweet juices of our strawberries and 
 cream . For 3 days and nights fresh troops 
 from the South poured into our streets witii 
 shouts that made the welkin ring, and the tur- 
 key bumps rise all over the flesh of our people. 
 We felt that Rome was safe — sekare against the 
 assaults of the world, the flesh and the -devil, 
 which last individual are supposed to be that 
 horde of fowl invaders, who are seekin to phlank 
 us out of both bread and existence. 
 
 But alas for human hopes I Man that is born 
 of woman (and there are no other sort that? 
 know of) has but few days that ain't full of 
 trouble. Altho the troops did shout, altho 
 their brass band musik swelled upon the gak, 
 altho the turkey bumps rose ae the welkin rung, 
 
\ 
 
 THE CAMP POLLOWHR. 
 
 47 
 
 altbo the ccnnmaadmg Genajal assured us t-hat 
 Rome was to be held at every baaard, and that 
 on to-morrow the big battul was to be fought, 
 and the fowl invaders hurled all howl in and 
 bleedin to the shores of the Ohio, yet it did 
 li'anspire some how that on tnesday night, the 
 military evakuation of our sitty were pcrempto- 
 rilyordered. No note of warnin, no whisper of 
 alarm no hint of the morrow came from the muz- 
 zled lips of him who had lifted our hopes so high . 
 Calmly and cooly, we smoked our killykinick, 
 and BTirveyed the embarkation of troops, kon- 
 struin it to be some grand manoover of military 
 strategy. About 10 o'clock vre retired to rest 
 to dream of to-morrows viktory. 81pep soon 
 overpowered us like the fog that kivered the 
 earth, but ntvry bright dream had !-:ura, nary 
 vision of freedom and glory. On the kontrary 
 cur rest were uneaey — strawberries and cream 
 seemed to be holdin secession meetins within 
 our corporate limits, when suddenly in the 
 twinklin of an eye, a friend aroused us from 
 our slumber and put a new fazo upon the 
 "situation." Gen. Johnston was retreatin, and 
 the blue nosed Yankees were to pollute our 
 sakred soil next mornin. Then cum the jug of 
 war. With hot and feverish haste, we started 
 out in search of transportation, bnt nary trans- 
 port could be had. Time honerd freudship, 
 past favors shown, evcrlastin gratitood, numer- 
 ous small and luvely chilern, kunfederate kur- 
 rency, new isshoes, bank bills, llacli bottles, 
 all influences were urged and used to sekure a 
 korner in a kar, but nary korner — too late — too 
 late — the pressure for time was fearful and tre- 
 menarions — the steady clock moved on — no 
 Joshua about to lengthen out the night, no 
 rollin stock, no steer, no mule. With reluk- 
 tant and hasty steps, we prepared to make 
 good our exit by thai overland line which rail 
 roads do not control, nor A Q Ms impress. 
 
 With our families and a little clothing, we 
 crossed the Etowah bridge about the broke of 
 day on Wednesday the Ifth of May, 1864— 
 preeakly a year and two weeks from the time 
 When General Forrest marched in triumph 
 through our streets. By and by, the brioht 
 rays of the mornin sun dispersed the heavy 
 fog which like a pall of deth hai overspread 
 all nalur. Then were exhibited to our afflict- 
 ed gaze, a highway crowded with wagins and 
 teams, kattle and bogs, niggers and dogs, tve- 
 men and children, all movin in dishevelled 
 haste to places and parts unknown. Mules 
 were I'luyin, cattle weje lowin, hogs were 
 squeciin, sheep were blatin, childic;. weiv 
 cryin, wappiners tusein, whips were poppin, 
 and horses etallin, but still the grand karavan 
 moved on. Ever} body was kontinually a 
 lookin behind, and drivin before — everybody 
 wanted lo know evcTything, and nobody knew 
 nothin. Ten thousand wild rumors filled the 
 
 Birkumambient air. The ereriastin kavalry 
 was there, and as tiey dashed to and fro, gave 
 false alarms of the enemy bein in hot pursnit. 
 Abont this most kritikul juncture of affairs, 
 some philanthropik frend passed by with the 
 welkum news that the bridge wer burnt, and 
 the danger all over. Then ceased the panick 
 then came the peaceful calm of heroes after the 
 strife ot' war is over — than esklaimed Frank 
 Ralls, my demoralized frend, "thank the good 
 Lord for that. Bill lets retnrn thanks and 
 stop and rest — boys let me git out and lie 
 down — I am as humble as a ded nigger— I tell 
 yon the truth — I sung the long meter doxology 
 as J crossed the Etowah bridge, and I espekted 
 to be a ded man in 15 minutes. Be thankful 
 fellers, lefci all be tliankful— the bridge is 
 burnt, and the river is three miles deep. Good 
 sakee, do you rekun them Yankees kan swim ? 
 Git up boys — lets drive ahead and keep movin 
 — I tell you theres no akkountin for anything 
 with blue clothes on these days— dingd iff 
 aint a feerd of a blue tailed fly.'' " 
 
 With most distressin flow of language, he 
 kontinued hi^ rapsody of random remarks. 
 
 Then there was the trump of good fellow«, 
 Big John — as clever as he is fat and as fat as old 
 Falstaff— with indc/biigable dilligence he had 
 sekured as a last resort, a one horse steer spring 
 waggin, with a low flat body a settin on two 
 riketty springs. Bein mounted thereon, be 
 was nrgin a more speedy locomoshun, by layin 
 on to the karkass of the poor old steer with a 
 thrash pole some ten feet long. Havin stopped 
 at a house, he prokurod a two inch auger, and 
 borin a hole thro the dash board, pulled the 
 steer's tail through and tied up the end in a 
 knot. "My runnin gear is weak,' said be, 
 "but I don't intend to be stuck in the mud. If 
 the body holds good, and the steer don't pull 
 offhistail,whyBilI,Iameafe." "My frend," sed 
 I, "will you please to inform me what port yon 
 are bound for, and when vou expect to reach 
 it?" "No portal all. Bill," sed he, "lam 
 goin ded strate to the big Stone Monntaia. I 
 am goin to git on the top and roll rocks down 
 upon all mankind. I now forew.im every 
 livin thing not to kum thar ontil this everlai- 
 tin foolishness is over." He were then bnt three 
 miles from town, and been travellin the live- 
 long night. Ah, my big frend thought I, 
 when wilt thou arrive at thy journeys eend? 
 In the language of Patrick Henry, will it be the 
 next week, or the next year? Oh, that I kould 
 write a Poura, I would embalm thy honest face 
 iu epik verse. "I kan only drop to thy pleasant 
 memory a passing random rhymo : ^ 
 
 Farewell, Big John, fareweH I 
 
 'Twas painful to mv hearty 
 To see thy chances of escape. 
 
 Was that old steer and kart. 
 
48 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 Me thinks I see thee now, 
 
 With ajdetrees all broke. 
 And wheels with nary hub at all, 
 
 And hubs with nary spoke. 
 
 But though the mud is deep, 
 
 Thy wits will never fail ; 
 That faithful steer will take the out, 
 
 If thou wilt hold his tail. 
 
 Mr. Editur, under sich varygated scenes we 
 reported progress, and in course of time arrived 
 under the shadow of the sitty's wings, abound- 
 in in gratitude and joy. 
 
 With sweet and patient sadness, the tender 
 hearts of our wives and daughters beat mourn- 
 fully as we mov^d along. Often, alas how 
 often, was the tear seen swiming in the eye, 
 and the lip quivring with emotion, as memory 
 lingered around their deserted homes, thoughts 
 dwelt upon past enjoyments and future desola- 
 tion. We plucked the wild flowers as we 
 passed, sang songs of merriment, exchanged 
 our wit with children' — smothering, by every 
 means, the sorrow of our fate. These things, 
 together with the comick events that okkurred 
 by the way, werp the safety valves that saved 
 the poor heart from bursting. But for sich 
 things our heads would have been foun- 
 tains and our hearts a river of tears. Oh, if 
 some kind frend would set our retreat to 
 musik, if he could make a tune to fit the man- 
 ner of our leaving, and the emotions which befell 
 us by the way, it would be greatly appresiated 
 indeed. It should be a plaintive tune, inter- 
 spersed with okkasional comick notes and fre- 
 quent fuges skattered promiskuously along. 
 
 Mr. Editur, the world will never know the 
 half that transpired in these eventful times, un- 
 less my frend, Frank Ralls, are kalled upon to 
 deliver a kourse of lektures upon the subjek. 
 What he don't know, or dident do himself, are 
 not worth knowing or doing. Our, retreat 
 were kondukted in excellent good order, atter 
 the bridge was burnt. If there were any 
 stragglin at all, they straggled ahead. It 
 wound have delighted Gen. Johnston to have 
 seen the alakrity of our movements. 
 
 If I were vain enuf to assert, that I wer con- 
 sidered the commanding offiser of this remark- 
 able retreat, I should say that our suksess were 
 mainly due to the able Coadjutors who were 
 with me. I would hand their names down to 
 posterety, Mr, Editur, but where so many acted 
 gallantly, it are impossibul to draw distink- 
 shuns. The great struggle of our contest seemed 
 to be, which army could retreat the fastest. 
 Gen. JohnBton or ourn — which could outphlank 
 the other, ^nd I allow as how it wer pull Dick 
 • pull Devil between em. It ar a source of regret 
 however that some of our households of the 
 Afrikan scent, .have fell back, in the arms of the 
 fowl invaders I suppose they may now be 
 
 kalled missin genaturs, and are by this time in- 
 kreasin the stock of Odour d'Afrique in North- 
 ern society, which popular perfume have 
 scourged out of the market *all those extracts 
 which made X Bazin, Jules Haul, and Lubin 
 famous. Good bye sweet otter of Roses, fare- 
 well ye balms of a thousand flowers — your days 
 are numbered. 
 
 But I must klose this melankolly narrative 
 and hasten to subskribe myself, 
 
 Your.Runagee, Bill Arp. 
 
 P. S. — Tip are still faithful onto the end. 
 He say the old turkey we left behind have been 
 settin for 14 weeks, and the fowl invaders are 
 welkum to her — furthermore that he throwd a 
 dead cat in the well and they are welkum to 
 that. • B. A. 
 
 A Chemical View of Death. — M. 
 Biot, a French author, in speaking of 
 philosophers whose views of immortality 
 are scientific, but peculiar, says : 
 
 You do not die, you only change your 
 state of aggregation. It is true your 
 nitrogen, your hydrogen and your car- 
 bonate seperate ; they are distributed 
 through the atmosphere, penetrate plants 
 and animals, or are absorbed by the 
 eaith ; but as no atom perishes, you 
 continue to exist ; the only difference 
 is that you find yourself reduced to a 
 more simple expression. 
 
 When the Duchess o^ Sutherland was 
 questioning the child] en of one of her 
 charity schools, the teacl^er asked : 
 
 'What is liie wife of a king called V 
 
 'A queen,' bawled out one of the ju - 
 venile philosophers. 
 
 'The wife of an emperor ?' 
 
 'An empress," was replied with eqjial 
 readiness. 
 
 •Then what is the wife of a duke 
 called V 
 
 'A drake I' exclaimed several voices, 
 mistaking the title duke for the biped 
 duck, which is pronounced the same in 
 Scotland. ^ ■ 
 
 The teacher fainted. 
 
THE (-AMP FOLLOWEa. 
 
 49 
 
 Swapping Wives. — In some ol' the 
 English proviDcial towns the barbarous 
 practice of a husband bringing his wife 
 to market with a halter round her neck 
 and selling her to the highest bidder 
 might have been witnessed a few years 
 ago. An improvement upon this system 
 has taken place in Beardstown, Cass 
 county, Illinois. Leroy Taylor, a car- 
 penter, and his family, living there, 
 happy to all appearances, were visited 
 in 1857 by a sister of Taylor's wife, 
 from Richmond, Indiana. She is de- 
 scribed as gay, good looking, and very 
 winning in her ways, and without ex- 
 citing suspicion'^ was noticed to pay 
 particular attention to her brother-in- 
 law. Last year the husband made ar- 
 rangements to leave the neighborhood 
 with the ostensible object of iuiproving 
 his condition, having more liberally 
 than usual provided for his family be- 
 fore taking leave. Weeks elapsed with- 
 out any tidings of him reaching his wife. 
 
 The first intimation received was that 
 he had repaired to Richmond, Indiana, 
 where his sister-in-law lived, and inform- 
 ed her husband that ho was on his >vay 
 to Pitt.sburg, Pa., to visit his mother- 
 in-law. The wife concluded that it 
 would be a favorable time for her also to 
 visit her mother, and that she would go 
 with her brother-in-law. It would be 
 euch a favorable time, the husband con- 
 sented, and the parties prepared for 
 their intended trip ; but instead of vis- 
 iting Pittsburg, they left for parts un- 
 known. These facts becoming fuily 
 known, the wife, despairing of ever 
 aeeing her btisband brought s-uit for a 
 divorce from her husband. She has 
 lived in Beardstown until last Monday, 
 industrious and reapectablc, when .slic, 
 with her family, started for Indianapolis, 
 Indiana, where her brother-in-law resides 
 (Mr. Wm. B. niggins,) who was so iin- 
 fortuualo as to lose his wife, he having 
 also obtained a divorce ; and, strange 
 to Bay, married Mra. Taylor. This 
 
 seems to be a fair exchaniyc. Taylor 
 runs off with Higgins' wife, and now 
 Higgins marries Taylor's wife. Hig- 
 gins appears to have the best of the 
 bargain — the best woman, and the three 
 children to boot. 
 
 'Bill, what brought you to prison ? 
 I'm surprised.' 
 
 'Pooh ! you needn't be. A couple ol' 
 constables invited me.' 
 
 'Very civil invitation, certainly. But 
 had liquor nothing to do in the., aifair ?' 
 
 'Well — ahem !— yes. EIi;:a teased 
 me so, I had to 'lick' her.' 
 
 Bill is a wag of the first water. 
 
 DE. PANSTS FAKMIKG, AND MES. PANSY'S 
 HOUSEKEEPING. 
 
 In the year 18 — , there came to settle in our 
 quiet neighborhooci, Dr. and Mra. Pansy. ' No 
 one knew anything about them excepting our 
 member of Congress, who had known tho Dr's 
 father in his youth, whom he represented as a 
 wild, good-for-naught young Virginian of con- 
 siderable fortune, which he scattered to the 
 winds, and more than considerable talent, of 
 which he made a very poor use, and becoming 
 needy, his friends procured for him the consul- 
 ship of M-^ , an unimportant post on the 
 
 Mediterranean, and that was the last Mr. H — 
 heard of him. The Doctor was a quiet, gentle- 
 manly person, and his wife a lovely little dark 
 eyed creature, with a profusion of dark brown 
 hair, which she arranged with matchless grace 
 and elegance. It was knotted behind as ladies 
 usually wear it, but instead of all being con- 
 fined by the carved and gold inlaid shell comb, 
 it fell around her neck and ears (not upon her 
 face) in a multitude of ringlets. The comb was 
 there and seemed to do its office, for a coil of 
 glossy hair lay around it, but the ringlets made 
 their escape in some way or other. 
 
 The good people of tlia neighborhood called 
 upon the Pacsy's, for when were Southern peo- 
 ple ever lacking jn courtoey and hospitality ; 
 and everybody took kindly to Mrs. Pansf, but 
 the Doctor was pronounced 'odd.' They dig- 
 coveied that notwithstanding his modicai edu- 
 cation at Pars, he bad become itif(;etod with 
 some Northern isma, and ia diet wns a vegeta- 
 rian. Now tho idea of oatiug no fJesh meat 
 excited iu our bapon-lovipg squires, the utmost 
 contempt and ridicule. So lor many years he 
 got but little or no praoiice, but proved him- 
 
5^ 
 
 self a capital farmer, and this i&ised him muob 
 , in the efitimation of his ceighbors. One winter 
 I was seized with infiammatory rheumatism, 
 and after submitting to old Dr. L-'s treatmetit 
 for some weeks, and growing no better, I deter- 
 mined, in spite of the opposiuon of the kind 
 people with whom I boarded, to send for Dr. 
 Pansy. I soon experienced decided benefit from 
 his remedies, and was able to be out again. 
 But tho' relieved from pain and able to walk, 
 I continued miserably weak and low spirited. 
 I could not shake off the feeling of gloom which 
 oppressed me — the heart-eick longing for home 
 and the faces of my mother and sisteys. I had 
 no appetite, and in vain my landlady tempted 
 me with whao she thought the most delicate of 
 dainties— I c-ould not eat. The Dr. had never 
 prescribed any particular diet for me, and I 
 concluded that his vegetarian tastes oi' princi- 
 ples was all a mistake, when one day finding 
 m9 unusually feeble and listless, he said : 
 
 'My dear, sir, you need change ; and, pardon 
 me, a strictly vegetable diet.' 
 
 My landlady, who was ia lbs room, was 
 aghast, and exclaimed : 
 ■ 'Why, Doctor, a vegetable diet v/euld kill 
 him — he is already so weak that he needs the 
 most nourishing fooa.' 
 
 'Nevertheless,' said the Dr. quietly, 'I re- 
 commend change of air and vegetable diet — 
 come over to my house and remain as our guest 
 as long 88 you can endure our vegetable diet, 
 and see at least what effect it will have." 
 , ^ I accepted at OBce the invitation, for I longed 
 foe change. The Dr. left me, saying he would 
 be at home in the course of the morning, and 
 I must ride over when the air becomes some- 
 what warmer. 
 
 The ride, though but five miles, fatigued me 
 greatly ; and Dr. Pansy, who rode up to his 
 door just as I arrived, assisted mc up the steps 
 and conducted me into his study; where be 
 made me lie down upon the sofa, and brought 
 me a glass of wine. 
 
 'A good nap will now do more for you than 
 anything else, and I leave you for that pur- 
 pose,' 
 
 He gently closed the door, and the home 
 like order of everything arouno me in this quiet 
 little snuggery, had an inexpre«6ibly soothing 
 fefifect upon me— I slept. I was awakened by 
 the entrance of the Dr., who said cheerfully: 
 'Thip is wtU— now a little fresh air before din- 
 ner will be your best appetizer — sol will sbow 
 you my garden and orcba'd' 
 
 I fell so much refreshed thai I was quite 
 ready for anything be proposed. First, be look 
 me to his fruit garden — everything was set out 
 in long rows from end to end. First in order 
 oame the figs — I was astonished at their num 
 
 •PHE CAMP FOI/LOWER. 
 
 ber — six long rows of fig trees. Then the rasp- 
 berries, then the currants, then the gooseber- 
 ries, then the strawberry beds covered with the 
 brown withered leaves of last Season. A little 
 rustic gate lead from the firuit garden into the 
 orchard. 
 
 'These are my winter apple trees,' said he — 
 'nearly all of Southern origin — the first ten 
 rows are Shockley, our best late keeper ; the 
 nexit six 1-OW3 are Nicka^acks, and the next 
 Cullasaga, and so on.' 
 
 After enumeratmg all his varieties we passed 
 on to the pear orchard, but I will not weary the 
 reader repeating the names of his Beurres and 
 Dogeanes. It was a warm day for the season, 
 and reaching a circular seat around a corner 
 pear tree, which commanded an extensive view 
 of the fields beyond, we sat down. 
 
 'That newly cleared field is in wheat, you 
 gee. 1 always put my freshest land in wheat 
 because it produces the finest fiavored grains'- 
 Finest flavored wheat,' said I Trith a stupid 
 stare. 
 
 'Certainly, my dear sir ; there is as great a 
 difference in the taste of wheat grovvn on fresh 
 rich soil, and that produced on a red washed 
 hillside, as between pine apples and pine sha- 
 vings. Being vegetarians, my wife and I are 
 rather fastidious about the quality of our edi- 
 bles, and I take the same pains in growing and 
 s'toring my cereals, fruits and roots, that you 
 camiverous gentlemen do, in raising and curing 
 the finest Suffolk pigs, Durham cattle, and 
 Southdown sheep.' 
 
 'But do you not use butter and cream, i 
 
 'No, 1 do not— Dr. Graham allowed these 
 thmgs, but I am strictly vegetarian.' 
 
 'But you do not impose it upon your patients 
 generally.' 
 
 'No,' said he, smiling, 'for the smiple reason 
 that it is useless. People are not prepared for 
 that yet 8o I content myself with practicmg 
 medicine as I was taught in Paris, by book 
 
 and rule.' 
 
 'But, Doctor,' said I, 'is it not a sort of mar- 
 tyrdom to live on vegetables. Do you not have 
 a constant longing for the nice things you deny . 
 yourself?' 
 
 He laughed. , 
 
 'As great a longing as yon have for the aogs 
 and cats so nicely prepared by the Chinese. No 
 sir, I loathe aoimal food ; the smell of bacon 
 makes me sick ; beet and poik are scarcely less 
 ofifensive, and such is the case with all vegeta- 
 rians after persevering in the system for many 
 
 jearS-' , . ^ r J 
 
 We now returned to the house, and we touud 
 Mrs. Pansy in the dining room, reading a news- 
 aper h twia leisurely, unoccupied air, as tho' 
 
THF GAMr FOLLOWER. 
 
 61 
 
 SQCb thiDgs ae housekeeping and diuDers were 
 not. Dinner was late, and I felt a sensa-Uon of 
 bungeJ, for the nrst time for months, and I be- 
 gan to have some appreheneions about my din- 
 ner. I thought with some degree of compla- 
 cency of my kind landlady's fried chicken and 
 rice, wbich I inmed away from only the day 
 before with utter indifference. I even thought 
 I could stand a dish of ham and eggs, and a 
 juicy steak would have been more than wel- 
 come. After dressing, I was summoned to tiie 
 dining room. On entering, savory odors sur- 
 prised me; anl the appearance of the table 
 was so elegant aud tempting, that I suppose 
 my face expressed my thoughts, for I noticed 
 the faintest shadow of an amused smile on my 
 friend's face. There w.'^a the soup tureen 'in 
 its usual place. There was the wine, the cas- 
 tors, the celery glasses, tne pickle dishes — 
 everything arranged as I had been accustomed 
 to see at the tables of other people. 
 
 The soup was a delicious, ereajny compound, 
 which I could scarcely persuade myself was 
 purely vegetable, and I asked Mrs. Pansy for 
 the recipe to send to my mother. She said the 
 vegetables were lirst fried in 6liv6 oil, (celery 
 onions, tiirnips and cabbage, all white in color) 
 they were then boiled to a pulp, and a morsel 
 of flour thrown in to mis vC^th ihe oil and pre- 
 vent its floating on the surface. Pepper, spices, 
 and a glass of vyine were added, and sippets of 
 bread cut into dice and Iried in olive. oil. 
 
 (There is the reoioe, ladies, I advise you to 
 try it.) 
 
 "When tiie sdip was removed, a dish of im- 
 mense Irish potatoes, with their mealy hearts 
 bursting through their brown coats, and smo- 
 king hot, was placed before my host. When 
 the dish was helped, seeing no butter, I thought 
 I had beiu !• 'look and learn' for fear of commit- 
 ting some gaucherie at this oddly served table. 
 I noticed Mrs. Parsy, after peeling her potato, 
 gave it a slight pressure with the back of her 
 fork, and it fell into pearly flakes upon her 
 plate. She then dressed it with olive oil, pep- 
 per and a little salt. I imitated and found it 
 excellenL They bad sweet potatoes, too, in a 
 > beautiful state of preservation, as fresh and 
 sound as when dug; and these we also dressed 
 with oil, but without the pepper and salt. This 
 oil was far superior to any I had ever tasted, 
 and the Dr. informed me that a friend in Flo- 
 rence purchased his .annual supply. Although 
 it was the middle of' February, .(the 15th, 1 re- 
 member,' for it was my birih day.) a slender 
 ^ vaee of Bohemian glass on the table was filled 
 •with white single hyacinths and crocussca of 
 many colors, intermixed with green leaves of 
 the Enghsh laurel. A dish of stewed salsify 
 was very nice, also Lima beans, an exquisitely 
 
 dressed salad was at last served with tliin slices 
 of toasted bread, saturate d with oil and sprink- 
 led with pepper. The doth was then re- 
 moved. 
 
 An artistically wrought basket of silver, wide 
 and low, and filled with fruit, now took its place 
 upon the crimson cloth. There were the mag- 
 nificent, Nickajacks and perfumed Cullasagas 
 ! whose parent trees I had looked at in the morn 
 
 I Of peara, ihero was the luscious winter Nelis 
 j and Dogcnne D'Alencon— and to crown all, 
 • grapes looking as fresh as when cut from the 
 ! vine, which Mrs. Pansy told me were kept in 
 tight shallow boxe^, only deep enough for two 
 i layers of bunches, each bunch wrapped in soft 
 ; paper and the interstices wore filled with wheat 
 , bran. 
 
 'But. you must know.' said Mrs. P., 'that 
 I much of our success in keeping fruit is owing 
 I to the care t.iken in thp construction of the 
 j fruit room. Living as we do on fruits and veg- 
 i eiables, .we give these things a great <ie,-.l of 
 ! attenlioc' 
 
 I How I er-joyed those grapes and peai-.^t may' 
 I rcssiBLT be imagined by some- feveri.eli and 
 I feeble invalid. And with the last sip • . , re 
 old wine, I came to the conclusion thai I tjad 
 ' never better dined. 
 
 ] The quiet which reigned around this home- 
 stead and its surroundings, was inexpressibly 
 I soothing to an invalid's worn nerves. There 
 were none of the sounds usually heard around 
 a farmer's domain — no lowing of cattle, no 
 crowmg of chibker.?, no cackling of geese, no 
 squealing of pigs. The song of birds, which is 
 never hushed even in mid-winter at the South, 
 and the occasional tinkle of a sheep boll, were 
 the only sotmds out of doors. 
 
 Dr. Pansy kept a flock of sheep for the pro- 
 I duction (Sf wool, and to graze the grass outside 
 j of his pleasure ground. 
 
 j One day, in walking over the premises, 1 84# 
 I a building which I remarked to the Dr. looked 
 ! suspiciously like a smoke house. 
 
 'It IS a smoke bouse,' he replied ; 'and what 
 is more, it is filled with bacon, which my over- 
 seer weighs out to the negroes every Satur- 
 day. I do not force my negroes to live 8B I do 
 — they would con?ider themselves very mise- 
 rable without their accustomed hog and hom- 
 iny. They think no vegetable is fit to eat with- 
 out being boiled with bacon. I also furnish 
 them with beef and mutton for a change. My 
 neighbor. Squire C, who pays very little at- 
 leniion to fruit, is always re^y to exchange 
 ihese blboriy commodities witlTme for a share 
 of my fine winter fruit, of which I vnise greatly 
 more than 1 need.' g^- , ~"'^ 
 
 I renaained a month with Dr. and Mrs. Pa^*" 
 
 ^ 
 
/ 
 
 52 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 happ7,coiitented and improving in health every 
 day. After a week I rode over to see my land- 
 lady. She was surprised, and evidently half 
 chagrined at my imprbvement, and very inquis- 
 itive as to what I lived upon at the Doctor's. 
 I gave her Mrs. Pansy's bill of fare for that 
 day, and she said: 
 
 'Oh, with good old wine and plenty of fresh 
 olive oil, I reckon people can do without meat, 
 but they are too expensive for most people.' 
 
 Not so expensive as meat, I Judge, Mrs. B. 
 Your turkey, roast beef, and ham, would cost 
 ^uite as much as the wine and oil necessary to 
 supply my friend's table.' 
 
 Dr. Pansy had an immense apiary ; and honey 
 in ihe comb was a constant luxury at bistable. 
 Mrs. Pansy made the most delicious bread I 
 ever tasted. She said it would be unpardonable 
 if she did not, when her husband took such 
 p^ins in furnishing her with the finest flour. 
 Her preserved fruits, jellies and pickles were 
 also perfect ; her dried figs were equal to those 
 of Smyrna; her can fruit brought back the 
 luxuries of July and August. The exquisite 
 taste with which her table was always arrang- 
 ed, alone gave one an appetite. The vase of 
 fresh flowers %■&& never absent, the unvarying 
 ohve oil was served in a Florentine bottle, with 
 handle and lip, and of rare artistic workman- 
 ship. The decanters and wine glasses were 
 the most graceful of their kind. At breakfast 
 and tea, the um with it^ appropriate surround- 
 ingfl glittered with massive costliness. Yet 
 'Tiy friends were not wealthy. 
 
 'But,' said Mrs. Pansy smiling, 'it is so much 
 cheaper to live on cereals, firuits and roots, that 
 we can indulge in many extravagances, or what 
 would seem extravagance to people of our 
 means.' 
 
 Mrs. B., my landlady, remarked one day to 
 Dr. Pansy that she did not think it Christian 
 to abstain from flesh meats, the apbstle said 
 that 'every creature of God was good, and to 
 .be received with thanksgiving.' 
 
 Dr. P. replied: 
 
 Then why do you not eat that glossy tortoise 
 shell cat on your rug— or that gaunt looking 
 dog in Ihe yard — they are just as much crea- 
 tures of God as your calves, sheep and hogs.' 
 
 Tiiere was no reply to this argument, and 
 Mrs. B.'s face assumed an expression of aston- 
 ished disgust as her eye fell upon the aforesaid' 
 hungry dog. • 
 
 'As far as I can see,' said Dp. Pansy, 'the 
 Apcsile places ihe eater of herbs and the eater 
 of meals on exactly the same fooling, but ad- 
 vises every ona to be 'fully pursua'fed in his 
 own mind.' Itoat I am pursuaded luliy thuc a 
 vegetable-diet is much more wholesome than 
 o^niverous — therefore, to act otherwise ttian 
 
 f I do, would be wrong, and expose me to the 
 
 ' denunciation of the Apostle, in Romans 14, 
 
 23. But he leaves me no room to judge my 
 
 brother. This is a matter which every man's 
 
 ovfn conscienee must determine.' 
 
 •But how did yon induce your wife to agree 
 with you in these opinions ?' asked Mrs. B. 
 
 'Oh,' said he, 'my wife loves the beautiful, 
 the poetic 1— she shudders at the cruelty of 
 killing animals — when she was a child, her 
 father took her to Italy, and there they visited 
 the poet Shelly at the villa of Valsovano; — 
 Shelly was a vegetarian, and his dinner of 
 bread, fruits and wine delighted her childish 
 lancy. So it required no persuasion on my part 
 to make Adele entirely concur with me in 
 tastes, to say nothing of opinion.' 
 
 The sweet,' yet scarcely perceptible smile 
 which always glowed upon the -Doctor's face 
 when he spoke of his wife, showed what a deep 
 fount of happines filled his heart when think- 
 ing of her. 
 
 The recollection of Mrs. Pansy's store closet 
 always gives me an appetite. The Immense 
 jars of fragrant, spicy pickles, the catsups, the 
 prepared sauces, the dozens of boxes of spices, 
 the flavoring essences, and such things, innu- 
 merable. 
 
 Pair country-women, I wish you would take 
 lessons in housekeeping from Mrs. Pansy. 
 
 THE COCK-FIGHT. 
 
 In Mexico, there is no ■^riety of sport 
 that produces a more general excite- 
 ment than the cock-fight. It is not 
 confined, as might be supposed, to any 
 particular class of persona. Between 
 the generalissimo of the army and the 
 rawest recruit — the President of the 
 Republic and the humblest hind — the 
 archbishop of the Church and the meek- 
 est member, there is no difference. In 
 the amphitheatre, side by side, stand 
 the priest and the peasant, the hunter 
 and the herdsman, the shopman and 
 the soldier. In juxta-position may be 
 seen the old man, whose dangled locks 
 are white as the polax snows ; the rtlen- 
 der youth, whose limbs are, slowly 
 rounding into manhood, and the truant 
 boy, scarce old enough to lisp hia Span- 
 ish name. It is common to every caste 
 and conditioH— to every age and voca- 
 
THE CAMP FOIXOWK?. 
 
 IS 
 
 tion ; and even women are sometimes 
 the willing observants of this barbarous 
 sport. 
 
 The excitement of the coek-fight dif- 
 fers, in some respects, from all other 
 kinds of strife. To the course, a man 
 carries his prejudices and his prefer- 
 ences. The name or reputation of the 
 horse ; the 'favor or friend.ship of the 
 owner ; or, if unacquainted with either, 
 tlie gait and color of the former, not un- 
 frequently influence his wagers. His 
 feelings once enlisted, he abandons him- 
 self to the hope of success. His eyes 
 follow the swift steed, in his circuitous 
 course, as long as he leads the race, 
 with a rr.anifest pleasure that is wholly 
 indescribable ; and if lie Calls behind, 
 the gloom of disappointment slowly 
 settles upon his countenance, and his 
 ■ lips iustinetively compress to smother 
 the swelling racre within. 
 
 But, m either case, he is .seldom un- 
 prepared for the result. iTho strife ig 
 not the work of a moment. There is 
 always ample time to note the move- 
 ment of eacli horse, to remark upon his 
 speed and bottom, and to calculate the 
 chances of a prosperous termination. 
 
 And so it is with the bull-fight. An- 
 nounced beforehand, and for raanj' da3's 
 the common theme of conversation, the 
 community are filled with anticipation. 
 Perhaps thousands have visited the 
 combatants, and carefully examined 
 their res[)cctive powers, jioting the size, 
 the color, the horns, the hoofs, and the 
 strength .of the one, and tlie eyes, the 
 nose, the m<juth, the height, the limbs, 
 and the muscles of the others ; and they 
 enter the arena, alike familiir with th(> 
 qualities of bull and gladiat.trs. 
 
 . The former standi in the midst 6f the 
 
 area. Iiis head and tail elevated, his 
 
 nostriLs distended, and his glaring eves 
 
 like balls of fire — the breathing per.soii- 
 
 ■ ification of astonishment. Presently 
 
 ■' the latter e'lter througli wickct.s, amid 
 
 i the deafening shouts of the overlookiner 
 
 t 
 
 multitude, and approach the excited 
 beast in opposite directions. He looks 
 at one and then at the other, and for a 
 moment remains undecided ; but the 
 waving of a red scarf determines him, 
 and he darts toward hia provoker, with 
 the swiftness of the wind. By a dex- 
 terous movement of his person, under 
 cover of the scarf, the gladiator escapes 
 the onset, and plunges his knife deep 
 into the body of the angry beast, which, 
 with a rage greatly increased by the 
 smart of the wound, turns upon his wily 
 adversary, 'fierce as ten furies.' 
 
 But if, perchance, the second attempt 
 is more successful, and the gladiator is 
 forced to the earth, his comrade instant- 
 ly flies to his relief ; and though the 
 horn of the bull may touch the breast 
 of the prostrate man, the slightest noise 
 behind usually diverts his attention. 
 And thus the strife continues, until the 
 gladiators, brused and mangled fly 
 from the field, or the bull, faint from 
 the loss of blood, sinks down in death 
 at the feet of his conquerors. 
 
 But very difien-ent is the excitement 
 of the cock-pit. where all go, the beltor 
 as well as tlie spectator, without predi- 
 lection. For, until after their arrival, 
 it is unknown even to the cockers them- 
 selves, what birds will be pitted. From 
 a large number, always exposed for sale 
 on such occasions, the principal bettors 
 select, each, one, and place them in the 
 hands of the gamekeepers, for prepar.^i- 
 tion. 
 
 The.sc binl.-i, having been so;:ie time 
 previous bereft of the weapons nature 
 designed for their defence, are now^ur- 
 nished' with gaffles, or artificial epur.s, 
 each of which is a i)olished steel blade, 
 about three incl.es in length, half an 
 inch wide at the base, curved slightly 
 upward, sharp at the point and on t!ie 
 upper edge, and firmly fa.steiied to the 
 leg by mcan.s of a claep. 
 
 Tlius armed and ready fur the fight, 
 they are curried about the pit by the 
 
54 
 
 THE CAStP FOLLOWER. 
 
 gamekeepers, who hold them aloft for 
 the observation of the spectators. It is 
 during this exhibition that the side-bets 
 are made, and the fight is not commenced 
 until the confusiop thereupon conse- 
 quent has entirely subsided. 
 
 In general, the cocks so far differ 
 from each other in size of body, color of 
 plumage, or length of tail, as to be easily 
 distinguished. Sometimes, however, 
 there is no perceptible difference be- 
 yond that aff'orded by the help of the 
 knife, by which one has been previously 
 divested of his comb and gills ; and 
 sometimes, when neither or both have 
 been subjected to the cutting process, 
 it becomes necessary, as a distinction, 
 to encumber the leg of one with a bit of 
 white cloth, the disadvantage to be de- 
 termined by lot. 
 
 As the original bettors, under the di- 
 rection of the gamekeepers, usually 
 select the finest cocks in the market, 
 palpable inequalities are very unfre- 
 quent, and wagers almost universal. 
 Indeed, so strong is the gambling pro- 
 pensity among the people, that there is ' 
 scarcely one who does not avail himself 
 of the opportunity to wager something 
 on the issue of the combat. 
 
 When all the bets are taken, and the 
 crowd has become thoroughly settled, 
 then begins the breathless excitement 
 peculiar to this species of sport. The 
 gamekeepers advance toward the centre 
 of the pit, tmtil within a pace or two of 
 each other, when they release the cocks 
 and retire. 
 
 These warlike birds, oftentimes before 
 their feet have touched the earth, fly 
 «pon%ach other with a violence that, in 
 the rebound, brings them both upon 
 their backs. But, as soon as they have 
 recovered, they renew the onslaught, 
 and their sharp slashing strokes follow 
 each other in quick succession, until the 
 contest is terminated liv disability or 
 death. 
 
 * * * i(r i- * 
 
 The incident I am about to relate oc- 
 curred in the city of Saltfillo. It was 
 about nine o'clock in the morning of the 
 first Sunday of May, of the year eigh- 
 teen hundred and forty-seven, Lieu- 
 tenant Cordell and myself were on our 
 wa}- to the cathedral. As we passed 
 the head of one of the narrow cross- 
 streets, our attention was attracted by 
 a large crowd in front of a two-storied 
 building, the lower part of which was 
 used for a grog shop . 
 
 At that day, a gathering in itny pub- 
 lic place always indicated something of 
 an exciting character : usuallj- a fight 
 or a fandango, both of which were of 
 almost daily occurrence. The former 
 more frequeatly happened in the streets, 
 and the latter in the houses ; 'but some- 
 times this order was reversed. But 
 whatever occasioned the threng, as long 
 as the excitement continued, the num- 
 ber increased, every passer stopping to 
 inquire the cause. 
 
 As our attendance at the cathedra' 
 was prompted by curiosity rather than 
 devotion, we quickly turned aside and 
 joined the crowd. On a nearer ap- 
 proach, we observed Guy Winthro-p, the 
 poet of our regiment, vigorously elbow- 
 ing his way toward a narrow wicket in 
 the wall. As a lyrist, he had no supe- 
 rior in the army, save Captain Pike, 
 who wrote the 'Battle of Buena Vista,' 
 at which tiie Arkansas cavalry were 
 present when the fight commenced. -- 
 But, with all his lyrical talents, he had 
 a keen relish for the ludicrous, and was 
 a great lover of excitement and fun ; 
 and he managed to find out nearly every 
 amusement, yet was seldom seen at an 
 indifferent exhibition. Thus encouraged, 
 wo also directed our efibrtsto the point 
 mentioned, and, bj^ dint of hard crowd- 
 ing and the expenditure of a brace of 
 picayunes, at length gained admit- 
 tance. 
 
 On passirig the.wi-ket, we found our- 
 >cr.-es in a navrow winding passage, 
 
THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 i)'0 
 
 that led to the back inclosure, in the 
 centre of which stood an amphitheatre : 
 a circular building about thirty-eight or 
 forty feet in diameter. The walls, not 
 less than fifteen feet high, were built of 
 bricks and mortar, and carefully plaster- 
 ed on both sides with a hard cement. 
 Five rows of seats, one rising above 
 another, completely surrounded the in- 
 side of the edifice. 
 
 Long before our arrival, every seat 
 was occupied, and all the space inter- 
 vening between them and the pit was 
 densely crowded with bystanders. By 
 the assistance of an old friend, who re- 
 membered a trifling service rendered 
 some time previous by my companion, 
 we obtained permission to sit upon the 
 top of the wall, whence we could ob- 
 serve all that transpired below with 
 entire satisfaction. 
 
 In the pit which was formed of a wall 
 about three feet high, and sixty in cir- 
 ctunference, were not less than half a 
 hundred boys, each with a cock under 
 his arm. Great rivalry prevailed among 
 them, and they hurried from place to 
 place, using every means in their powe^ 
 to attract attention and secure purchas- 
 ers. 
 
 There was an abundant on'-'^'-'nr .y. 
 for choice among the cocks, .vuicii were 
 of almost every shade and variety of 
 color, from the blackness of soot to the 
 whiteness of snow : in addition to which, 
 some were not bigger than a woman's 
 fist, and some were as larg« as a man's 
 head ; while the prices ranged from a 
 rial to a dollar. 
 
 A Mexican dandy was endeavoring 
 to draw a wager from a sutler's clerk. 
 They appeared to have difficulty in re- 
 conciling some trilling difference. Their 
 conversation was onl}' audible to them- 
 selves and those in their immediate vi- 
 cinity ; but it was evident, from their 
 excited manner, that there was but little 
 likelihood of an agreement. 
 
 In the midst o\' this quarrel, wiach 
 
 might have led to Something more seri- 
 ous than words, the corpulent figure of 
 
 Brigadier General M suddenly 
 
 darkened the entrance, and his stento- 
 rian voice filled the amphitheatre. In 
 a moment all eyes were turned upon the 
 new-comer, as he pushed forward to- 
 wards the pit, calling upon the venders 
 to exhibit their cocks. 
 
 The crowd, unaccustomed tc such an 
 august presence, instinctively drew back 
 on cither hand, affording the elephant 
 an opportunity to pass through uncheck- 
 ed, where a moment" before the weasel 
 must have forced his way at the risk of 
 his bones. 
 
 The general was closely followed by a 
 Catholic priest, clad in a suit of grey 
 broadcloth, worn quite threadbare. — 
 Over his shoulders loosely hung a 
 blanket which had once been very val- 
 uable, and most probably as beautiful. 
 On his head was a red flannel skull- 
 cap, fantastically ornamented with 
 black velvet, and in shape nut unlike 
 those frequently worn by jockeys. 
 
 At sight of the American officer, all 
 the boys rushed forward, holding their 
 cuks aloir, and clamoring like as many 
 ;;.!i'ites of bedlam. Each spoke in 
 ^jxuiseofhis own, and in dispraise of 
 ..•ytfi-y other's ; all at the same moment, 
 and every one at the top of his voice. 
 
 There was something ludicrous in the 
 scene, es-pecially to the general, who 
 understood not a word of Spanish. For 
 the first dozen seconds he was amused; 
 but as the boys pressed about him, and 
 shouted in his ears, and thrust their 
 cocks in his face, the scene gradually 
 lost its '• forest. At length he became 
 inipatitjii. and then indignant. 
 
 'Beg ur. you noisy scamps !' he cried 
 in a thr.nm ;-ing voice, accompanied by 
 an angry wave of his great fat hand. 
 The. words were uttered in English, and 
 only understood by the interpreter at 
 the priest's elbow ; but tLe gesture had 
 
56 
 
 THE CAMF FOLLOWEE. 
 
 a true Spanish significance, and operated 
 like a charm. 
 
 Those nearest the commander retired 
 in silence, completely awed by his indig- 
 nant manner. But like .^op's fox, that 
 drove away the glutted flies, their places 
 were immediately occupied by a fresh 
 swarm, shouting even louder than their 
 half-exhausted fellows. This was too 
 much for endurance : the general's an- 
 ger was thoroughly aroused, and he 
 turned about abruptly and addressed 
 the priest : 
 
 'Father Ambrose !' said he, in a reso- 
 lute tone, at the same time pulling a 
 revolver from his breast pocket, 'you 
 must instantly command order and si- 
 lence, or I'll let off the contents of this 
 weapon among those noisy devils, and 
 make them howl for something.' 
 
 Immediately the priest raised his lin- 
 ger and uttered a brief remark, and all the 
 boys, devoutly crossing themselves, 
 withdrew to the other side of the pit. 
 Here they remained, quietly until one of 
 the gamekeepers arrived and ordered 
 them to be seated. 
 
 When all had taken their places, the 
 priest entered the pit, followed by the 
 interpreter, the stakeholder, and the 
 dandy before mentioned. The general 
 was in that peculiar maudlin condition 
 that always unlits a man for climbing, 
 .so he contented himself with a seat on 
 the wall of the pit, between two of the 
 venders. 
 
 On raising his eyes to the crowded 
 seats that rose nearly to the top of the 
 wall of the edifice, they chanced to fall 
 upon my companion, with whom he was 
 slightly acquainted, and he immediately 
 summoned him to his assistance. I re- 
 tained my seat, as it afforded an excel- 
 lent opportunity for observation. 
 
 'Lieutenant,' said the general, ex- 
 tending liis hand in a friendly manner, 
 'I am exceedingly glad to meet you, for 
 I've been playing monte with that old 
 grey friar "antil Fm penniless. I want 
 
 to borrow fifty dollars to bet on a cock- 
 fight, for I'm bound to win my money 
 back or sink my commission.' 
 
 'General,' said my friend, who clear- 
 ly perc-eived his condition and wished 
 to preserve him from the knavery of the 
 priest, 'it would afford me much plea- 
 sure, but it is quite out of my power. I 
 have not got above a fourth of that sum 
 in my possession.' 
 
 'Well, give me what you have,' said 
 the brigadier, 'and borrow the balance 
 from your chum,' alluding to myself, 'or 
 from some of those volunteers,' pointing 
 to a group of Kentucky cavalry, who 
 occupied seats on the opposile side of 
 the amphitheatre. 
 
 My friend, still anxious to thwart the 
 crafty old churchman, interposed several 
 objections, but the determination of the 
 general bore down all opposition. The 
 required sum was raised without diffi- 
 culty, and with a similar amount from 
 the purse of the priest, deposited in the 
 hands of the stakeholder. After which 
 the general retired to a seat, in a small 
 balcony above the entrance, usually re- 
 served for the principal bettors, leaving 
 the matter entirely in the hands of my 
 friend. 
 
 From this moment the rascality of the 
 priest was manifest in every transaction. 
 The cock that he proposed t(j pit, chosen 
 beforehand under the advice of a noted 
 cock-master, was immediately brought 
 forward and placed in the hands of a 
 gamekeeper for preparation. Against 
 this advantage Cordell strongly protest- 
 ed, but to no purjiose, for the priest was 
 inflexible. 
 
 This reduced the matter to an alter 
 native — to select from among the birds 
 in the pit, or draw the stakes and pay 
 the forfeit. But the general would not 
 consent to the latter, although his re- 
 presentative, who saw at a glance that 
 among all the fo.w Is present there was 
 not a match for the priest's, urged upon 
 him its propriety, supported by reasons 
 
THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 51 
 
 tbat would certainly have ihflueiKjed a ^ 
 sober brain. 
 
 Compelled to make a selection, Cor- 
 dell passed around the pit, and taking 
 the birds in his hands, one alter another, 
 gave them a careful examination. Hav- 
 ing accomplished the round, he desig- 
 nated his choice and demanded the 
 price, at the same time drawing forth a 
 long silken purse well filled i^ith Benton 
 mint-drops. ♦ 
 
 The vender, whose eyes sparkled at 
 the sight of the gold, was about to re- 
 ply, when his words were arrested by 
 the voice of the priest, who uttered but 
 a single sound, his face piously averted 
 to heaven, and his attenuated fingers 
 busy with his beads. The vender quick- 
 ly raised his eyes to tRe master of his 
 will, and then said, with evident reluc- 
 tance, that his bird was not for sale. 
 
 A.nother selection was made, but with 
 a similar result. A third, fourth and 
 fifth followed, but with no better suc- 
 cess. Xot less than twenty applica- 
 tions were made, and ensued by as 
 many refusals. The highest price was 
 offered and declined. The value was 
 • doubled and trebled, but all to no pur- 
 pose. Among all those fifty boys, so 
 eager to sell only a few moments before, 
 not one could be pvovailed upon to part, 
 with his property. 
 
 By this time Cordell had become con- 
 siderably excited, and would rather have 
 lost the wager than paid the forfeit. He 
 insisted on a purchase, and offered as 
 much, silver as he could clutch in liis 
 hand, for the meanest bird within the 
 walls. Many e^'cs turned covetousl.y 
 upon the glittering offer, but nobody 
 dared make the excliaugc. Then he 
 took from his purse ten American eagles, 
 and laid them one upon another in the 
 palm of his hand, and offered all for a 
 single Mexican- game-cock. In an in- 
 stant every vender was upon his feet, 
 and their eagerness to sell was even 
 greater than at the beginning. 
 
 But the last offer was simply an al- 
 lurement to test their sincerity. Before 
 it was made, Cordell strongly suspected 
 a combination to defraud the general 
 out of the forfeiture. The ardent de- 
 sire to gain possession of so large a sum 
 of money conviriced him, and he instant- 
 ly resolved not to be overreached. To 
 the surprise of all present, and to the 
 chagrin of the avaricious venders, he 
 very quietly replaced the eagles in his 
 purse, and the purse in his pocket, and 
 with a smile at their discomfiture, turn- 
 ed about and addressed the priest : 
 
 'Reverend father,' said he witli mock 
 deference, :I entreat that you will in- 
 fluence some of these venders to disposo 
 of their property. Thej' dare not dis- 
 obey your behests, a;id whatever yen 
 direct they will speedily execute. It 
 would be a mortification that so many 
 well-disposed people, met together on 
 this bright morning of the Lord's day, to 
 witness a little innocent amusement, 
 should be obliged to disperse without 
 the gratification.' 
 
 'Indeed, sir,' replied the man of God, 
 'you attribute a power to me that I do 
 not i)0ssess. I have no control over 
 these young people's actions, and still 
 less over their property. If they refuse 
 to sell, I have no power to coerce them; 
 and if I had, have not the right. Nor is 
 it to me a matter of much consequence. 
 Of course I should prefer to win the 
 wager, but am not avaricious, and if 
 needs be, can content myself with the 
 forfeit.' 
 
 There was a sang-froid about the 
 manner of the priest, that chafed the 
 proud spirit of Cordell, and the more, a-: 
 he was unable to divine the cause of 
 the strange behavior among* the' ven- 
 ders. From his knowledge of their ac- 
 quisitive disposition, he felt entirely 
 confident that some unseen iiifiuence 
 was exerted .over them, or that the;,- 
 were acting iff concert for a fraudulent 
 purpose. 
 
58 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 I saw that he was puzzled, and hasten- 
 ed to explain the mystery. From my 
 elevated position, I could distinctly see 
 all that transpired within the area ; and 
 I had noticed, that when Cordell ap- 
 proached the first vender, before he re- 
 plied, looked at the priest, who, in every 
 instance, forbid the exchange by a sig- 
 nificant gesture of his long bony finger. 
 I remarked also, that when the ten eagles 
 were offered, a nod of his old grey head 
 had placed every bird within the power 
 of the purchaser. 
 
 When Cordell came to understand the 
 character of the fraud practiced, he 
 turned quietly round, and slipping his 
 hand under the stakeholder's blanket, 
 fastened upon his coat-color Vvith the 
 grip of a vice. 'Now,' said he, address- 
 ing the wily old priest, 'having volun- 
 tarily placed yourself in a dilemma, you 
 may cling to which ever horn you pre- 
 fer. One of two things you must do, 
 and without delay : either you must 
 furnish a cock to complete the match, 
 or relinquish the stake without the 
 forfeit.' 
 
 Quite a sensation prevailed among 
 the bystanders when these words were 
 rendered into Spanish. Significant 
 looks were exchanged by the ajguazils, 
 several of whom were present to pre- 
 serve order and quiet. The old priest, 
 without nlliKling to the charge, began 
 at once to palaver about the principles 
 cf honor and the rules of the cock-pit. 
 
 Meanwhile the stakeholder managed 
 to convey the purse with the ' wagers, 
 into the hands of the dandy, who imme- 
 diately tried to escape from the edifice. 
 Perceiving that Cordell's object was 
 likely to be defeated by the secret trans- 
 fer, I quietly descended from my ele- 
 vated position, and o^tportnnely inter- 
 cepted the fugitive. 
 
 Baffled on ever>- hand, the villainous 
 old priest, with a most sanctimonious 
 seeming, turned to protest hfe innocence 
 and crave ihe general's; interference : 
 
 but to his utter amazement, the briga- 
 dier, who was sober enough to compre- 
 hend the fraud, was standing on his 
 feet, with his ominous revolver aimed 
 directly at his consecrated crovra. 'You 
 cursed old shaveling,' said he, 'if you 
 don't secure me a cock in the twinkling 
 of an eye, I'll send your soul in hot 
 haste to the Devil.' 
 
 These words terminated the difficul- 
 ty. The holy man, trembling in his 
 shoes, promised to use his best endea- 
 vors. Calling to a little ragged boy, 
 whose arms clasped to his breast an un- 
 gainly cockerel, not yet full grown, he 
 directed him to bring it forward for 
 vendition. Cordell insisted on the right 
 to make his own selection, but the gen- 
 eral, already grown impatient in conse- 
 quence of the unnecessary delay, au- 
 thorized the purchase, and begged that 
 the contestors might be speedily armed 
 for the fight. 
 
 In a few moments the pit was vacat- 
 ed, except by the cockers, to whom was 
 intrusted the preparation of the com- 
 batants. At length, eveiy thing bjeing 
 in readiness, the general desired to ad- 
 dress his champion before the strife 
 commenced. The request excited some 
 mirth among the Mexicans, but was 
 promptly complied with by the game- 
 keeper. The general put forth his 
 hand, and taking the cockerel by the 
 bill, turned his head to one side, and* 
 addressed him in the following terms : 
 
 'My good fellow,' said he, with an 
 air of sincerity, admirably assumed, 
 'the relation we sustain to each other 
 makes it my duty, before you enter the 
 arena, to impress upon your mind a 
 proper sense of the responsibility that 
 rests upon you in this trying moment. 
 By the usages that everywhere prevail 
 among the politer states of our republic, 
 I have this day become your master b.y 
 solemn purchase, and have a right to 
 dispose of your service in whatever 
 way may best subserve . my purposes. 
 
THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 59 
 
 But I design you for an example of my i 
 magnanimity- ' 
 
 'Upon the issue of the fight in which 
 you are about to engage, entirely de- 
 pends the condition of your future ex- ! 
 istencc. If you are defeated, you will 
 be condemned to perpetual slavery ; 
 but if you are victorious, you will be 
 freed from your Uondagc, invested with 
 the rights of citizenship, and adopted 
 into the great family of American fight- 
 ing-cocks. 
 
 'In the coining contest, you are to re- 
 present the freest and the happiest peo- 
 ple on the fac* oi' the eartli,'and in 
 your keeping is intrusted the honor of 
 their most glorious nation. Tiie res\ilt 
 of this combat will be embk-rnjitical of 
 the conclusion of the ■s^'ar in wMch they 
 are now engaged. If you arecon(jiiercd, 
 all that Taylor has achieved in th;; 
 mountains, Scott will loose in the val- 
 leys ; but if you are triumphant, I shall 
 expect t.' celebrate the anniversary of 
 our national independence over a hasty 
 plate of soup, at the table of the victo- 
 rious general, in the palace o( the Mon- 
 te zumas. 
 
 'Go, sir, and do your duty ; and may 
 the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and 
 of Jacob, and of the Thirteen United 
 Colonies, preserve you from defeat, and 
 your nation from disgrace.' 
 
 When this address was concluded, 
 Guy Winthrop, from the opoositc side 
 of the an jhitheatrc, cried with aloud 
 
 voice, 'Three cheers for General M .' 
 
 Immediately a score of hats went up, 
 and as many voices followed in a con- 
 cert of shouts that excited the wonder- 
 ment of the whole neighborhood. In 
 the brief quiet that ensued, the inter- 
 preter gave a condensed translation of 
 tiie speech, which was received with 
 shouts of laughter. 
 
 I'resently one of the inferior alcaldes 
 of the city made his appearance, and 
 ;:ic hilarity of his constituents quickly 
 
 ;i>sided into a Jnnrmnr of gratili/atio' om 
 
 for he was judge oi the combat. He 
 walked Forward with a stately tread, 
 and ascended a ftight of winding 
 stairs, consisting of seven steps, to a 
 place not unlike one of the ash-hopper 
 pu'.pits, fashionable in the time of Jona- 
 than Edwards. Having seated himself 
 and wiped the perspiration from hi.s 
 brow, he waved kis baton, and the 
 gamekeepers forthwith placed the 
 champions oja,,tiic ground and retired. 
 
 The representative of Mexico was a 
 full-grown, welbproportioned, vain-glo- 
 rious, game-cock of the red feather, and 
 as fine a specimen of his breed as was 
 over pitted. His head and neck were 
 thickly covered with a rich plumage 
 of crimson hue, which mingled with the 
 yellow on his breast, as the light blends 
 with the shade in the me/iotinto. His 
 back and shoulders were purple, and 
 also his wings, which were lightly 
 tipped with black. His sides and thighs, 
 and the under part of his wings, were 
 scarlet interspersed with yellow. His 
 legs and beak were orange, and his eyes 
 like globules of blood; His cresent 
 tail, which swept the ground like the 
 skirt of a fashionable ladj^'S dress, was 
 a liappy mixture of glossy" black and 
 fier}' Vermillion. His broad single comb 
 with its sharp triangular teeth, fell 
 gracefully upon one side, like the wav- 
 ing plume of a Kossuth hat. And his 
 whole appearance, from the ' crown of 
 his head even untp the soles of his feet, 
 was that of a Mfexica^ , commander at a 
 grand review. 
 
 Tcfy diffcrct was the appearance 
 of the ungainly cockerel chosen as the 
 representative of five and twenty mil- 
 lions of freemen — hnd some slaves. He 
 was in truth a gawky fellow, not unlike 
 a youth that had shot up a foc't or so 
 boy».ind his years. His manner was de- 
 cidedly awkward, and his dress shabby 
 and neglected, especially the tail, which 
 ,was in ratliEjr a tattered condition. His 
 rr,v'^';nj {• msis-t*""! of a thin suit 
 
60 
 
 THE CAMP FOLCOWEIl. 
 
 of short feathers, of divers colors, in- 
 termixed in a most peculiar manner. 
 But there was neither jet-black nor 
 snow-white, deep-green, nor blood-red ; 
 all were dull, and dingy, and dLsagre ca- 
 ble. ** 
 
 In other respects he was equally re- 
 markable, He was tall and slender, 
 and carried a high head on slight sup- 
 porters ; bat, like many of the people 
 be represented, what he lacked in sub- 
 stance he made* up" in show,^for his legs 
 were of the exact lustre of gold. Al- 
 together, he looked as much like a na- 
 tive of Pike counfcy, as any Missourian 
 that ever measured six feet and three 
 in hi^ yellow unmentionables ; and his 
 damaged tail strongly resembled Doni- 
 phan's men on their arrival at Buena 
 Yista, fresh from the wilderness. 
 
 But it must be borne in mind,, tliat 
 this monster bird, upon whose glittering 
 gaffles bung- the glory of a.great na- : 
 tion, was only a last year's chicken. 
 'He had not yei attained liis complete 
 stature, nor his_ limbs tlieir just pro- ' 
 portions, nor his feathers their full 
 length, nor his colors the gloss and | 
 brilliancy of ripe, maturity ; even his j 
 spurs had cot yet pro! ruded through the i 
 skin of his ankles. Nevertheless, his ' 
 step was lirm and his bearing fearless, ' 
 and his lustrous eyes flashed with the ; 
 fire of defiance. 
 
 There v\'as cue other thiug iu his 
 appearance particularly wiirthy of men- ! 
 tion. The many colors of his i!)hi'iuage, j 
 like those of the jwiism, nicely inter- ' 
 mixed, yet vpre.se rved their distinctness. \ 
 But while tile casual oh.server saw 
 nothing ren^arkable in the spotted ■ 
 breast and striped back, Guy Winthrop, 
 his eye iii a line frenzy rolling, di.g- ; 
 covered in the one the grefit canopy of 
 stars, and in the other the bright rain- , 
 bow of promise : and by a flourish of! 
 the imf.ginalicn, a poetical license that ! 
 prosers knuv,- n-)thij;g about, instantly 
 ; ■: amorphosed :he motley bird iiito th^ j 
 
 American flag, It must be confessed 
 that the resemblance was not very 
 striking, but the idea was happily con-, 
 ceived under the circumstances^ and 
 three simultaneous shouts went up from 
 the volunteers for the success of the 
 glorious stripes and stars. 
 
 For several moments the proud cham- 
 pion of Mexico looked upon his un- 
 couth antagonist with su!'prise, and af- 
 terwards with curious scrutiny. It 
 was very evident, if his manner was a 
 truthful indication^ tliat he regarded 
 him as a half-fledged upstart, only 
 worthy of his contempt.* But, on re- 
 flection, he resolved to punish him for 
 his rash presumption, as Walpole did 
 the future Earl of Chatham. Full of 
 this dstermination, he dropped his head 
 and tail to a level witii his back, and 
 rushed furiously athwart 'the pit, aim- 
 ing a death-blow at his devoted head. 
 Meanwhile, the champion of America, 
 highly delighted with his shining spurs, 
 upon which was centred his entire at- 
 tention, fell into a foolish reverie, and 
 ^uite forgot the business in which he 
 was engaged. It was well for his 
 honor and safetj'- that a considerable 
 space separated him from his adversa- 
 ry, c-lse he might have bit the ground 
 without striking a blow for his life, and 
 tlie cause he represented. But the 
 pompous preparation of his indigent 
 foe, arou.sed him to a full sense of his 
 danger, and the intervening space saved 
 him fro!n immediate destruction. 
 
 There was something truly admirable 
 in his manner, as he raised his head and 
 squared himself for the onset: To all 
 appeamnce, a violent collision was inev- 
 itable, and the result was awaited with 
 breathless anxiety. But in this in- 
 stance, as in many others 'of much 
 more importance, ;ii>ticipation was not 
 realized ; the spectLitors were disap- 
 pointed, and the ukl wurrior surprised 
 and mortified. His wily adversary, 
 like the great Wasiiington, quietly 
 
T»K CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 61 
 
 stood upon his defence, antil the sword 
 was raised to strike the bl<jw, then 
 crouched and disappeared, leaving- the 
 victor to digest his wonderment as best 
 ke could, while he was dealing a coun- 
 ter blow, with bloody effect, in his un- 
 protected rear. 
 
 Contrary to ever^' one's expectation, 
 in the first roun4 America escaped un- 
 hurt, while Mexico received a serious 
 injury. But the old cock, though he 
 severely felt the blow, managed to con- 
 ceal the extent of the damage, by the 
 interposition of a fearless front and 
 another furious attack. This time the 
 cockerel maintained his 'position, and 
 returned blow for blow ; but after ten 
 or a dozen strokes, dealt with the grace 
 and skill of an adept, he was compelled 
 to retreat and leave the field, now 
 stained with blood, in the possession of 
 his more powerful enemy. 
 
 At the distance of half a rod he came 
 to a halt and faced c^out to view the 
 battle-ground, in the centre of which 
 stood the conquerer, exulting in his 
 triumph. First he flapped his beautiful 
 wings, then arched his graoeful neck, 
 then opened wide his beak, and in a 
 clear and ringing voice, cried 'Cock-a- 
 doodle-doo !' After the lapse of a mo- 
 ment he essayed to repeat the exulta- 
 tion, but was unexpectedly interrupted 
 by the cockerel, who rushed upon him 
 just as he cried 'Cock-a— ,' and upset 
 him with the 'doodle-doo' in hia throat. 
 
 Heredpon the struggle was renewed, 
 and maintained with great vio-or for 
 several seconds, but without material 
 advantage to either p'arty. Then fol- 
 lowed a succession of feints and skir- 
 mishes, in which Fabius tried to outwit 
 Hanibal, and the energies of both were 
 well nigh exhausted. For a few mo 
 monts they stood beak lo beak, to re- 
 gain tneir bl-eath and recover their 
 strength; and then foil upan each other 
 with a liprceness and a fury that made 
 their previous struggles seem as play. 
 
 In all the vast multitude who looked 
 down upon the combatants when they 
 dropped from the hands of the game- 
 keepers, there was not one who antici- 
 pated such a bloody and protracted con- 
 test. Thew bird of Mexico was in his 
 prime, and inspired his friends with con- 
 fidence, while the other failed to excite 
 even a hope in* any but the breast of 
 Winthrop. But he was strangely 
 impressed with a presentiment, a some- 
 thing that poets regard as prophesy, 
 that the cockerel would achieve the 
 victory ; and he clung to the convic- 
 tion threughout the combat, against 
 every appearance, the decision of the 
 judge and the approval of the specta- 
 tors. 
 
 Among the persons present on thi. 
 occasion, were men of sixty winters, 
 who had never witnessed such a strug- 
 gle where the combators were armed 
 with gaffles. In less than half the 
 time already consumed, they had seen 
 birds of much better appearance than 
 the cockeral, fall tq the earth dead, in 
 some instances -decapitated, and in 
 others totally disembowelled. And to 
 them it was a matter of the greatest 
 wonder, how he could withstand the 
 superior force of the old cock, whose 
 CTcry blow, dealt with a master's skill, 
 scattered the motley feathers of his 
 breast, and spattered the ground with 
 hiij blood. 
 
 But moments passed into seconds, 
 and seconds into minutes, and minutes 
 muttiplied, and still the fight pro- 
 greased. At length, overcome with 
 fatigue, they abandoned the spur and 
 resorted to the beak, in the use of 
 which the younger warrior, whose crest 
 was low and double, had greatly the 
 advantage. In this manner the strug- 
 gle continued, long after the feaibera 
 were stripped from *heir necks, and 
 until the comb of the old cock was ' 
 completely cleft asunder. In the hand 
 to hand fight he was no match for 
 
62 
 
 THS GAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 Yoting America, under whose drooping 
 wing he was at last obliged to thrust 
 his bleeding head for protectio^i. 
 
 A brief respite ensued. The old bird, 
 weary from exertion, and weak from 
 the lost of blood, seemed"'' anxious to 
 suspend the strife until he had in some 
 measure regained his breath and 
 strength. Bat the younger one, like 
 youth in general, was impatient for the 
 temiination, and vainly tried, by every 
 mea»s in -liis power, to dislodge his 
 e.nemy. At length, regarding him as 
 a cowardly skulker, and leeling for 
 him' a thorough contempt, as he en- 
 dured his blows with the submissive- 
 Bess of a spaniel or . negro slave, and 
 withal, wearied with his fruitless exer- 
 tions, he stretched forth his long feath- 
 ea-less neck, and uttered a shrill cry of 
 defiance. 
 
 Old chanticleer, who had cunningly 
 resolved to undergo temporary injuries 
 that he might»in the end realize perma- 
 oent benefits, perceiving that the anger 
 ofhisfoe, in his exhausted condition, 
 totally unfitted him for vigorous resis- 
 tance, suddenly darted forth from be- 
 neath the sheltering wing, and set upon 
 him with the fury of annihilation. Seiz- 
 ing him by the back of the head, he 
 dealt full half a dozen blows on his 
 Heeding breast, in such quick succes- [ 
 sion that not one could be returned 
 And when his hold gave way,- the cock- 
 erel staggered back a few paces, reeled 
 from side to ade, and tumbled headlong 
 to the earth. 
 
 Up" to this moment a breathless si- 
 lence prevailed throughout the amphi- 
 "Aeatre ; it was now broken by a shout 
 ■from the Mexicans, that burst upon the 
 car like a peal of unexpected thunder. 
 But before the exultation could be re 
 pea+,ed, the judge raised his baton, and 
 in the silence that immediately followed 
 prockimed the victory. To the sur- 
 prise of the .spectators, nearly all of 
 whom acquiesced in the deeision, Guy 
 
 Winthrop insisted that the proclama- 
 tion was premature, 
 
 'Right, by heavens !' shouted the 
 brigadier, springing to his feet, ^^veatly 
 excited. He had begun to entertain 
 hopes of victory, so nobly did the young 
 bird sustain his part in the fight. 'And 
 sir,' he added, addressing the judge, 
 'your decision is too hasty, for as long 
 as life remains hope may be enter- 
 tained, and that bird is not yet dead. 
 You must, therefore, reserve your opin- 
 ion until life is extinct, or I have aban- 
 doned the contest.' 
 
 The judge listened to tliis address 
 from the lips of the interpreter, wi'th 
 manifest indignation, but he gave it no 
 noti<"e beyond a contemptuous curl of 
 his lip. In the further exercise of his 
 duty, he again waved his baton, and 
 the gamekeepers entered the pit to re- 
 move the combatants. But they had 
 Bcarcel}' crossed the wails, when Cor- 
 dell leaped before them and forbade 
 their interference. A couple of algau- 
 zils flew to their assistance, and a 
 struggle would have ensued, had not 
 the murderous revolver of the briga- 
 dier prevented. R was aimed directly 
 at the breast of the alcalde, whom he 
 threatened with instant death if the 
 I pit was not speedily vacated. 
 
 At that day there was no weapon so 
 much feared by the inhabitants of Mex- 
 ico, as the American six-shooter. It 
 was new to the most of them, and its 
 operation a wonder and a mystery. 
 With the double-barrel they were fa- 
 miliar, and it was frequently found in 
 their possession- Its principles were 
 easily explained and understood, and 
 with these they were thoroughly ac- 
 quainted. The running noose or lariat, 
 was also in common use, and in' their 
 hands a most dangerous and deadly in- 
 strument. Perhaps 'on all the waters of 
 the Mississippi there was not a black- 
 leg better skilled in the use of the long 
 knife, upon which they relied for safety 
 
THE GAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 63 
 
 in close combat, under almost all cir- 
 cumstance?. And sometimes they used 
 the vengeful stilletto iaa manner that 
 would not have shamed the proudest 
 assassin of that degenerate people from 
 whom they derived its use, together 
 with their laws, language, manners, 
 customs, fashions, religion, and the 
 best blocnl of their nation. 
 
 But tie deadly revolver was a wea- 
 pon only known to them by its effects ; 
 and these were unaccount.ibk and mur- 
 derous, that many regarded it iis an in- 
 vention of the Dft-nl, placed in the 
 laands of the hirsntc barbarians of the 
 north, for the destruction oi' Catholics 
 and the dissemination of the corrupting 
 principles of Protestantism. One of 
 those little guns, in the hands of an 
 American, could produce greater con- 
 sternation among an assemblage of na- 
 tives, than a score of foot-guards with 
 their bayonets fixed and their muskets 
 set for a charge. It was valuable on 
 all occasions , now to preserve peace, 
 and anon to quell disturl ance ; at one 
 time to enforce law, and at another to 
 protect life ; and occasionally, as in 
 the present instance to exact even-hand- 
 ed justice, which was too seldom re- 
 ceived in that country, especially by the 
 natives of the United States, 
 
 Terrified by the menacing attitude 
 of the general, the judge promised to 
 withhold his decision until life was ex- 
 tinct ; another flourish of his baton ar- 
 rested the progress of the algnasils, 
 and caused the gamekeepers to retire. 
 Gordell also withdrew, and the pit was 
 again in the possession of the comba- 
 tants, which, foitunately, were not in 
 ' the least disturbed by the events tliat 
 produced so much excitement among 
 the spectators 
 
 of two or 
 upon his 
 
 versary, who, at tliC distanc^j 
 three yards, looked down 
 helpless victim with the pride of a con 
 querer. In this manner seveAl min- 
 utes elapsed, and the Mexicans had be- 
 gun to manifest their impatience by cer- 
 tain low mutterings that are better 
 omitted, when it was observed by one 
 of the gamekeepers, that the old bird 
 was gradually losing his strength, and 
 possibly his life through the rear- wound 
 received at the commencement of the 
 struggle. About the same time, G-uy 
 Winthrop noticed the blood trickling 
 dojwn from the long purple feathers that 
 hung so gracefully from the root of his 
 tail, and he rightly suspected the cause 
 of the old priest's anxiety after he had 
 been spoken to by the g-amekeeper. 
 
 Presently the proclaimed conquercr 
 grew unsteady, and staggered about 
 thp pit like a drunken man ; and soon 
 after his head dropped upon his breast, 
 and he fell forward to the earth. But 
 he immediately recovered his feet, and 
 stood still for a moment to muster his 
 expiring energies, then dropped his head 
 and tail to a level with his back, as in 
 the beginning of the engagement, and 
 rushed upon his helpless ioe, with the 
 obvious design of destroying his life 
 before himself expired. 
 
 The cockerel clearly perceived the 
 intenticn, but was unable to avert the 
 threatened destruction. But where life 
 is endangered, the slightest chance fW 
 its preservation is not to be despised ; 
 so he laid his head upon the ground, 
 and threw up bis feet to shield his body. 
 The onslaught was terrific, and the 
 gaffle that struck the blow, coming ia 
 contact with the clasp on the leg of the 
 prostrate bird, was snapped into piece? 
 and scattered about the pit But the 
 
 After two or three ineifectual at- ' force of the impetuous tilter carrie^i 
 
 tempts to regain his feet, the cockerel him several feet beyond his enemy, 
 
 j^ tumbled over on his side, evidon^} dis- where, falling headlong, like Judas 
 
 conragcd ; but he still kept his head Iscariot, he burst asunder in the ipidst. 
 
 from the ground and his eye on his ad and all bis bowels gushed out. 
 
64 
 
 THE CAMP FOLLOWER. 
 
 Exasperated by a cruelty that would 
 even spare a fallen foe, the cockerel re- 
 newed his exertions, and after two or 
 threo' efforts regained his feet. For a 
 moment he remained stationary, then 
 cautiously approached his chivalrous 
 victim, walked slowly round his man- 
 gled corpse, looked with pride upon his 
 death-wounds, and then, passing by his 
 side, in a clear and musical voice chant- 
 ed the hymn of his victory. 
 
 On examination, it appeared that the old 
 cock had died of the blow inflicted in his rear 
 at the opening of the war, when the cockerel, 
 eluding his attack by a masterly stratagem, 
 crossed the Delaware on the ice, captured the 
 Hessians at Trenton, and dispersed the British 
 at Princeton. It is true that he afterwards 
 fought bravely at Brandywine and Monmouth 
 court-house, and died game at Yorktown, yet 
 he was never able to recover irora the fatal 
 blow received at a ,time and in a quarter least 
 expected. 
 
 But the younger bird, though his neck was 
 stripped of its feathers, his crest picked in 
 pieces, and his breast covered with wounds, 
 was still alive. He had contended against a 
 veteran, had been repulsed, compelled to re- 
 treat, borne to the earth by a superior force, 
 and reduced to extremity ; but he had sur- 
 vived every attack, recovered from every de- 
 feat, drove the enemy behind his entrench- 
 ments, harassed his marches, crippled his ener- 
 gies, scattered his resources, defeated his 
 hopes, destroyed his confldence, and, in the 
 end, achieved a complete victory. 
 
 'Now,' said the general, with a smilfe, ad- 
 dressing the disappointed judgde, 'yon may 
 decide the combat, and award the wager. 
 Father Ambrose,' he added, turning to the 
 avaricious prie t, 'I have retrieved my morn- 
 ing tosses and something over, a )d should be 
 glad to have you, with these, . my friends,' al- 
 luding to Cordell, Winthrop, and myself, 
 'dine Nvith me at the American. You see,' 
 he continued, speaking to the spectators, 'that 
 neither Molina del Rey nor Chepultapec will 
 prevent the success of our arms in the valley 
 of Mexico. And to yon,' designating the 
 poet, 'I will give that cock, with the hope 
 that, if he survives, you will carry him with 
 y)a to the United States.' 
 
 "Winthrop received the present with a 
 pletfture even greater than the general felt 
 when he fobb^ the old priest's gold. He 
 
 took immediate steps to stauach the blood and 
 dress the wound ; and he carried him to the 
 camp, and nursed him with so* much care, that 
 in a few weeks he was entirely recovered. 
 When the Twelve Months' Volunteers were 
 discharged from the service by reason of the 
 expiration of the period for which they had 
 enlisted, the poet carried the victorirus cham- 
 pion with him to America, and placed him on 
 the hundred and sixty acres of land he bad 
 earned in his country's cause, where he still 
 survives, a splendid bird, striped and starred 
 as handsomely as the banner ot liberty, the 
 patriarch of the flock, and the progenitor of 
 some of the gavv^t .cocks south of Mason and 
 Dixon's Liine. 
 
 'Come here, my little' dear,' said a 
 young man to a little girl, to whose 
 sister he was paying his addresses ; 
 'you are the sweetest thing on earth.' 
 'No I am not,' she replied, artlessly ; 
 'sister says you are the sweetest.' ' The 
 question was popped the next day. 
 
 Wit and Wisdom. 
 
 They teli u? that cold weather contracts 
 everything. Our experience is that colds are 
 contracted. 
 
 Sir, I will make you feel the arrow of my 
 resentment. Ah, Miss, why should I be afraid 
 of your arrows when you've got no beau ? 
 
 If you wish to obey the order 'fire and fall 
 back,' shoot with an overloaded musket, 
 
 'Doctor, have you not killed five patients ?' 
 *0h, yes, but mankind is in my debt, for I am 
 the lather of six children.' 
 
 There are a great many beams in eyes of 
 ladies, but they are generally all sunbeams. 
 
 Impossibilities, like visions and dogs, fly 
 before him who is not afraid of them. 
 
 Of all complaints, envy, though the Bost 
 undoubted, is t^e most ungracious 
 
 Be ill the fashion ; you had bette.^ dispense 
 other people's follies than your own. ^ 
 
 The narrower a soul is, the more easily it is 
 crossed. 
 

 Date Due 
 
 
 NOV 29 
 
 wVi 
 
 
 
 Bj:. 2 
 
 !94t 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Form 335— 15M 
 
 — 7-36— S 
 
 
808.8 C186 
 
 343959