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into the body of the guerrillas—then, quick as
thought, they opened upon them with revolvers.
“Betrayed!” cried a fierce voice, as the groans
of the dying in their agony went up from the blood-
stained ground; and turning their horses’ heads,
; the rest of the band fled in confusion.
; The widow sprang to her feet as the wild shout
rang upon the air.
“Bella!” she cried, rushing into the girl’s room,
“did you hear? we are surrounded—the house will
be fired—not a soul of us left alive.”
“Hush, aunt!” The girl stood, listening intently.
“What do you hear? Why do youlisten? You
have not been to bed; what does it mean?”
“It means that I have saved you from crime,”
said the young girl.. “You would have seen these
soldiers killed in cold blood.
. woman seized her arm and shook her sav-
agely—“What have you done?. A curse on your
Yankee blood! I might have known you would
turn viper at last.”
“Aunt—take care. You may be {ndebted to me
for your life. If they knew it was you Eben
Stringer told—they might take vengeance—partic-
ularly if they have lost any of their men.”
that moment in came the captain and lieuten-
ants down stairs. Bella heard the voices, and im-
mediately commenced selecting a few garments.
“Bella, what are you doing! Do you mean to
leave me? Why are you packing ‘that bundle,
child? Haven’t I cared for you all these years?
Would you leave me alone in my old age?”
“You know how I feel, aunt—how I have long
felt. I thank you for your kindness, but I can live
no longer where my father’s flag is held in reproach
: —where the laws are disregarded, and the author-
ity of our lawful government held in contempt.
am going to my father. By the merest accident, I
found one of his letters, yesterday, and in that saw
v ‘ou had insulted him most unfeelingly, and given
im to understand that his daughter had forgotten
: him. Now I go to show that I love him still—and
5 am true and loyal to my country.” She left the
room and went down stairs, :
“I have a horse at your service,” said Captain
Parker. “We are ready to start immediately.”
As the little cavalcade passed the spot where the
dead guerrillas lay—the captain pointed to one
white, upturned face—ghastly and still, forever.
“Poor Eben!” sighed Bella, “he was what viler
men made him.”
- After weeks of delay, she reached in safety her
Northern home.—Wide World.
‘ to
, WINNY AND HIS RABBITS.
« It isa fact, children, that the human heart must
love something. Did you ever read the story of
the poor prisoner who, being shut up for years
away from the sight of human faces and the sound
of human voices, became so attached to’ a little
mouse that visited his cell daily, to pick the crumbs
of his small pittance of bread, that it seemed like a
brother to him, and when finally he came out he
wanted to take the tiny creature with him? Not
. long ago a State prisoner in one of the penitentia-
ries of France wrote the emperor a most affecting
letter, begging him to enlarge the windows of his
dungeon, so as to let in more sunshine to a little
plant which he had nursed there, and which he was
afraid would die, and leave him heart-broken,
We have heard of another convict, who, while
serving out his time in jail, came to love a spider
that hung her web in a corner of his cell, and spent
| many of his lonely hour’ in catching flies to feed
her.’ You can never understand such an attach-
*ment as that till’ you are put where you have no
friends. It is very beautiful, this loving instinct;
; and when you see the world more,-you will find
- that God has put a little streak Of tenderness in
every bosom; away down, deep under the hard na-
TIE YOUTHS
scanty garments were sadly tattered, and weariness,
poverty and utter wretchedness were exhibited in
every lineament of the little, pale, upturned faces.
They were accompanied by a great, red-faced wo-
man, who had evidently been born under colder
skies than they—in some land of stony hearts; for,
while they were singing, she had been quietly de-
vouring a huge piece of pie upon the steps, and
when the song was ended, it was her brawny palm
that was outstretched to receive the reward, Then,
isregarding the appealing look of the weary child,
who had seated herself to rest a moment, she hur-
ried the little singers off. I watched the two until
they disappeared down the dusky street, and again,
soon after, the far-off tones of the sweet, plaintive
yoices came up through the twilight shadows. -
The faint cadence of the little singers’ voices—
sounding to me like a wail of suffering—died away
in the distance, and my heart grew sad as I thought
of the cheerless home to which they might be go-
ing; a home without any of the endearing associa-
tions that naturally cluster around that sacred
word. There would be the vague, unsatisfied
yearning for a mother’s tenderness and a father’s
love and care. The tired, aching feet would rest
awhile by the wayside, and then with the dawning
light creep forth to wander another long day
through the thronged thoroughfares of life. -
O, there are thousands of “singing” mice in this
great, busy world of ours; poor, neglected little
ones, who creep down into damp, filthy cellars
these bitter winter nights, and there, hungry an
cold, lie down to their unquiet dreams.
THE FAMILY.
For the Companion,
THE LITTLE PHILOSOPHER.
“In our last conversation, uncle, you spoke to
me on the subject of light-houses; but there are
one or two points respecting these houses I should
like to know more about.’
“Well, Master Robert, I shall be glad to fayor
you, if it is in my power.” -
“You didn’t sufficiently explain how it was that
a light-house is made to show an- intermittent
light. I can understand very well how a lamp can
be so placed as to give a steady, fixed light, and
how, by causing the rays to pass through glass of
different colors, one light can be made to appear
red and another white, and so on; but I don’t see
exactly how a lamp can be made to give a light
only at intervals.” ;
“I think that after a little reflection, various
plans would occur to your mind, my young philo-
sopher.” oe tO
“Well, uncle, I can ‘see how a person could
manage to conceal the light by placing some kind
of screen before it every few minutes, and then
taking it down again.” + .
“Ah! that would be rather an old-fashioned
mode, indeed. But suppose the man should fall
asleep, or otherwise fail to perform his duty,
how serious a neglect it might prove to the poor
mariner !” : ves
“Very true, uncle. But what is done to avoid
such accidents?” .
“Machinery, Robert, machinery. Hours can be
counted by the sand-glass, but if the marker fails
to turn the glass when the sands run out, what er-
rors would arise in the noting of time! ence
clocks and watches were invented, which can mark
the progress of time without much attention on
ur part.” .
tures of the very roughest and cruelest men. The
i Esquimaux will love his sledge-dog, the Laplander
his reindeer, the Arab his horse, and even the
Turks will have their favorite bird, poodle or mon-
key. Our picture shows six as pretty friends as
i often meet in one group. A handsome boy is
Winny, at any rate, but what makes his face all
“But how can machinery be applied to lights
and light-houses ?” .
“Well, can you not imagine a mechanical con-
trivance that would cause a light to revolve go as
to send fortn its rays only at intervals?”
“O, yes, I fancy I can see how that can be done.
A kind of clock-work could be so connected with a
lamp with a reflector behind it, as to cause them
' the pleasanter here, is the love and good nature
that shines in it, and his pets evidently feel as
pleasantly as himself. Wonder if he is a cousin of
the Mary who
“Hada little lamb.” .
- THE LITTLE ITALIAN SINGERS,
Mice have been known to sing in tones that were
mournfully soft and liquid. These sweet strains, a
naturalist tells us, are moaning plaints, occasioned
by the slow, heavy pain of torturing disease, eatin
away the life of the little sufferers. So, often in
human life the sweetest music has had its source
in anguished hearts, A writer in the Advocate
and Journal finds an illustration of this in the fol-
. lowing incident: .
Not long since, I happened to be sitting by the
window one late October afternoon. In a half
reverie I sat watching the leaves of crimson, brown
and amber, which were drifting silently downward
and fluttering over the pavement, when the soft
tones of childish voices fell upon my ear. Look-
ing out, I saw, standing beneath my window, two
itiable little morsels of humanity. The one, a
ttle girl, who might have been ten years of age,
both to turn round, and thus present its bright
side in a certain direction at regular intervals.”
“Very good. But it might also be done by al-
lowing the lamp to remain fixed, “and causing
some opaque body—a screen or shade—to. revolve
or pass before the light at certain intervals.”
“True, uncle; I think I have caught the idea
now, and can, perhaps, guess how a lizht could be
made to appear and disappear alternately, as the
ease might require.” ~~ :
“What is the other point that you desired fur-
ther information about, Master Bob ?”
“The other point, sir, is in regard to distances.
You remarked that in consequence of the round-
ness of the earth’s surface, it was necessary to ele-
vate the light that it might be seen at a great dis-
tance. A thought has struck me, whether the dis-
tance for each foot or yard of elevation has ever
been calculated.” :
“O, yes, certainly it has.” .
“Suppose, then, sir, that the lamp of a light
house were raised to the height of one hundred
feet, how far should that light be seen by a vessel
was thrumming the strings of an old guitar; an
boy, who seemed two or three years younger, was
adding a soft alto to herclear treble notes. The
words they sang were in a foreign tongue, but there
was a touching pathos in the delicate childish
voices, and such a world of wistful softness in the
dark Italian eyes, that it went to my heart, Their
Bn lk ee tn en ce
a|at sea?”
“Do you mean from the deck or the mast-head
of the vessel ?”
“That, I suppose, would make a difference—
would it?”
“A very material difference.”
COMPANION.
“Well, then, say from the deck of the vessel.”
“©You must assume some given height from the
level of the sea before I can determine.”
_ “Say, then, fifteen feet, uncle.” :
“Very good. If the eye of the beholder were at
the surface of the sea, the light burning at one
hundred feet elevation would be seen at the dis-
tance of eleven and a half miles. But since the
person’s eye is supposed to be fifteen feet above
the surface of the water, the light would be seen at
the distance of about sixteen miles, or four and a
half miles further.”
“I suppose, uncle, the light at that distance
would appear as if floating on the water.”
. “Yes, just on the horizon, or, as you say, float-
ing on the water. By ascending towards the mast-
head of the vessel you would cause the light to
rise above the horizon in proportion to the height
to which you would ascend.”
“Thank you, uncle. I'll not take more of your
time; but I’m going to say one thing, if you'll al-
low me, and that is, I think I’ve one of the “clever-
est” uncles in the world, and—and—”
“There, there, Bob, you may go.”
+e
THE SWEETEST WORD.
“I think the sweetest word is ‘Home,’”
Said little Annie Price,
Of things so good and nice.
Inever feel so hay
father comes;
‘And Ma and Willie are so kind,
So the sweetest word is ‘Home.’””
“The sweetest word I think is ‘Mother,’”
Said little Jennie Lowe, .
Though I hardly can remember mine, ®
e died so long ago:
But I often wish I had her here
‘When I feel so tired and sad;
IfI only had a mother,
I should be so very glad.”
“I think the sweetest word is ‘Heaven,’”
Said little Emma Gra
| proudly-curved. mouth, and shapely chin; how
an artist’s pencil would have ached until it had
shaped their counterparts on canvass. Can we re.
alize that the boy is no longer laughing in the sun:
shine of that summer morning? Ah! Josie secs
sterner sights, that lips and cheeks grow pale
to witness.
“Mother,” he writes, “my heart is sick at the
horrors I have witnessed in six battles. I have
stood unharmed by the iron rain. that struck down
comrades on my" right hand and on my left,
Another is before me; I may never see you again,
I trust that I have learned life’s great lesson here,
God sent me that I might learn to prepare for
death.” .
"That morning who of us thought of such days?
Josie ran for bread, followed by his cousins, and
then back they all cama timidly holding out their
small hands towards the new pony.
He arched his graceful neck until he could take
the proffered food, and did it so gently that all
fear was over. ‘The bread was swallowed, and each
child was rewarded by one of the finest bows ever
made by man or horse.: Four bows decided the
children that pony “did'it on purpose” and then he
was stroked and praised, until, he asked coaxingly
for more. Away pattered the little feet after more.
“Nonsense,” cried aunt, “do you think I ean af-
ford to feed horses on my nice white bread?”
Josie found some fried pudding, and back they
scampered. Pony bent to take it, but it offended
his dainty palate, and so he turned up his lip,
snorted and made wry faces, amidst a general
shouting and clapping of hands. The horse knew
they enjoyed it, and would pretend to smell again,
on purpose to make up another face,
From that morning the mouse-colored pony
would be led up by uncle to please the children,
and would find a smiling welcome, and bits of
bread interspersed with pudditig, just to see him
make faces. Before long the pony was carried
away to be sold. How sorry the children. were,
Because he told u: .
‘hat there we all should meet.”
“The sweetest word of all is ‘Jesus,’”
Said good Amelia Ray,
“Because I know He died for us,
To take our sins away,
‘Twas He who gave us all a home,
mother, and a heaven;
But, better than all gifts of earth,
His own dear life was given.
Sweet Hattie Bent was last to speak;
e raised her gentle eye, ce es ne
° Anda tear stole down her pale, thin cheek,
8 she answered, quietly, .
“I think, even more than. home, or heaven,
Or any word I know, ,
That ‘whosoever’ is the best,—
Do you not all think so ?”,
“O, no,” said little Jennie Lowe,
“Tell us w!
Said little Emma Gray,
“No word is so sweet as “Jesus,”
Said good Amelia Ra ‘
“I’m sure that I hear nothing sweet.
en such a word I say.” °
“The Bible tells,” sweet Hatti
“Whosoever will may comes oe”
Do you not think that sweeter’
Than Mother, Heaven, or Home?
It tells so much of Jesus’ love
pe finners such as I,
ise I could never go to heave:
When I shall come to die. "
.
“It tells me that He casts out none
‘0 come to Him in love;
! yes; it is the sweetest word,
It brings all good to me;
Home, Mother, Saviour there I’ve found,
l—for Eternity.”
SCRAPS FOR YOUTH.
For the Companion,
THE MOUSE-COLORED PONY.
An uncle of the writer once owned a beautiful
horse that appeared to have been somebody’s es-
pecial pet before coming into his hands. He was a
graceful, high-spirited creature, tractable and intel-
ligent, and of a peculiar color, We called him the
mouse-colored pony. :
One bright summer morning, as he was being
led out for exercise, he heard the sound of merry
voices in auntie’s kitchen, and wishing to join in
the sport came to the open buttery window, whe:
re
aunt stood absorbed in rolling out pie crusts,
and startled her into a scream by rubbing his cold
nose against her bare arm,
Her fright, and the Picture the wild-eyed crea-
ture with his flowing black mane made in the win-
dow, raised shouts of laughter from the merry
children, which pony enjoyed as much as any one.
Away he trotted quite round the house,
children rolling hither and thither screaming with
fun.
“Give him something to eat,” eu,
»” suggested uncle,
who stood by him enjoying the scene.
Josie—our handsome cousin—we can see that
bright face now, rich locks of
a noble forehead ; smiling, wise brown eyes:
\ u and step-
ping up the step, poked his nose into the centre of
the giggling group, witha suddenness that sent the
chestnut shading fe
and how they crowded round uncle, when he came
home, to ask if pony had found a good home.
“Well, Josie,” said uncle, “I told them all it was
a family pet, and could not bear hard usage. By-
and-by a beautiful lady bought him for her saddle
horse. You may be sure she will treat him kindly,
for they became great friends at once. But
now comes the funniest part of it,” said unde.
“After pony was put into a long stable among
many strange -horses, he became lonesome and
started off I suppose to find Josie, and Dely, and
Cely, and Sissy. Well, in the afternoon, as all the
fine lady boarders were sitting in the hotel par-
lor, they heard great tramping steps in the
long dining-hall, making as much noise as a band
of soldiers, and while they were all in a panic, who
should trot in but pony? The ladies jumped into
chairs, or climbed on the piano, screaming,—
‘Help? ‘O dear? and ‘Mercy on us!’ until several
gentlemen ran to the rescue, and there I saw poor
pony trying to put his nose into a lady’s hand,
while she was shouting, ‘Go away, you frightful
creature.’ I told them, as I led him away, that he
was a knowing horse, and had trotted in to find
more refined society than he could get in the barn,
and described to them how the children used to
feed him. Yes, I told them about Josie, and Sissy,
and the pudding, and they plucked up courage and
all came laughing out with bread and pudding to
try it.”
“Did he bow and make faces ?” asked five voices
at once, .
“Just as handsomely as you ever saw it done,
and after that the ladies ran after him so much that
he never had to go into the parlor to sce pretty
faces. - Why, I told that lady such stories that her
father paid me handsomely for my pony, and then
said, if they were half true he would send my wile
a present in six months.”
“Tam afraid I never shall see it if he waits until
then,” laughed aunt. But the next spring a fine.
chest of tea greeted her unbelieving eyes. If you
ever make bargains, boys, may those who deal with
you be as honest and as well satisfed with their
bargains as were-the new owners of our mouse,
colored pony, "Mrs. P. P, Bonney:
nn
THE ORPHAN BOY. .
“Come here, Charlie, my darling child, and let
me bless you before I die. Kneel beside me, for,
feel that life is ebbing fast. Dear child, who will
love you when I am gone,—who will’ be your
friend? I have nothing to leave you, but my bless~
ing; the cold world will not feel for you, and many
trials you will have to encounter; but trust in God
—look to Him—He will not desert you.”
Thus spoke the dying mother to her boy, and
while yet her last words lingered on his ear, she
Was cold in death. The poor boy still knelt by het
unconscious of the presence of death, but
awed and terrified by the change that had taket
place in her countenance. Charlie. was now in
deed an orphan,
His father had died before be
rete pee
