pets .

XAMmer,

AND SE MEi-WEREKLY INTELLIGENCER.

New Series.

IMAGINARY EVILS.

Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow; Leave things of the future to fate; What's the use to anticipate sorrow ? L.ife’s troubles come never too late! if to hope overmuch be an error, Lis one that the wise have preferred ; And how often have hearts been in terror Of evils—that never occurred !

Have faith—and thy faith shall sustain thee— Permit not suspicion and care With invisible bonds to enchain thee, But bear what God gives thee to bear, By His Spirit supported and gladdened, Be ne’er by “ forebodings” deterred! But think how hearts have been saddened By fear—of what never occurred !

Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow ! Short and dark as our life may appear,

We may make it still darker by sorrow— Still shorter by folly and fear!

Half our troubles are half our invention, And often from blessings conferred Have we shrunk in the wild appre-

hension Of evils that never occurred !

The Dying Volunteer. AN INCIDENT OF MOLINO DEL REY, BY G. H. CHIPMAN,

The sun had risen in all his glorious majesty, and hung above the eastern ho- rizon jike a ball of glowing fire. Its bright rays danced merrily along the Lake of Zesneo ; over the glittering domes of the city of Mexico; past the dark frowning battlements of Chapu!tepec Castle, and Jit, in all their glorious efful- gence, upon the blood-stained field of Molino Del Rey.

The contest was over, the sound of the battle had died away, save an occasional shot from the distant artillery of the Castle, or the fire of some strolliag rifleman.

{ wae standing beside the battered remains of *he mill door, above which the first footing had been gained upon the well contested wall, and | gazing over the plain, now saturated with the blood of my fellow-soldiers, which that morning w avel green with flowing grass, when | heard a low and feeble wail! in the ditch beside me. I turned toward the spot and beheld, with his right leg shattered by a eannon ball, a voltagieur lying amid the dead. fle had been passed by in the haste of gathering up the wounded under the fire from the castle, and the rays of the burning sun beat down with terrible fervor upon his wounded limb,

cansing heavy groans to issue from his nallid lins, and ‘his marble eountenance to writhe with pain.

“ Water, for God’s sake, a drink of water.” le faintly articulated, as I bent dewn beside him.

ortueately [| had procured a eanteen of water, and placing it to his lips, he took a long, deep draught, and then sank

back exhausted upon the cround.

“The sun,” he rourmured, * it is kill- ing me by its rays, cannot you carry me into the shade 2”

“[ ean procure assistance, and have vou teken to the hospital.”

“ No, do it not, my sands of life are almost out. An hour hence I shail be a dead tnan.—Carry me into the shade ef the mill, and then, cee have time to enare, listen to my dying words, and if you are fortunate enough to ever return to the United Siates, bear me baek a message to my home und to anoth—” he paused, and motioned for me to carry

CHARLOTTETOWN, |

him to the shade. I did so, and the cool wind which swept along the spot, seemed to revive him, and he continued:

“You, sir, are a total stranger to me, and from your uniform belong to another corps, and yet I must confide this, the great secret of all my recent actions, and the cause of my being here, to you. Would to God that I had reflected upon the fatal steps [ had taken, and [ shou!d have now been at home enjoying the society of kind friends, instead of dying upon a gory field, and in a foreign land. My father was a wealthy man in the town of G ch, in the State of Vir- ginia, and moved in the best society of the place. I had received an excellent education, had studied Jaw, and was ad- mitted in the twenty-fourth year of his age to practice at the bar. I had early seen and admired a young lady of the place, the daughter of an intimate friend of my father’s, and fortunately the feeling was reciprocated, and we were engaged to be married. The war with Mexico had been in existence some twelve months, and many flocked to the standard of their country. It so happened that about this time a recruiting office had been opened in the town, and several of my young friends had enlisted to go and try their fortunes upon the plains of Mexico, One night there was a grand party in the place, in honour of those who were about to depart for the seat of war, and both myself and Evetine were at the bail. Among those who were assembled that evening, was Agustus P., a_ talented young man, and accomplished scholar, gay and lively in his manners, free and cheerful in his disposition, and a univer- sal favorite with the fairsex. He had been for some time paying hia addresses to Eveline, as | deemed in rather too pointed a manner. Ags the party assem- bled in the long hall, and the dance was about to commence, I asked her for her hand for the first set.

“It is engaged,” she replied, I thought rather tartly.

“To whom, if I may be so bold to inquire ?” | demanded,

“To Agustus P.,” was the immediate reply.

{ smothered my rising indignation the best 1 could, and proadly returned the glance of malignant joy my rival gave me.

* Perhaps | can engage it for the sec- ond set,” | camly asked.

“Mr. P. has engaged it for the whole evening,” she pettishly replied, and ris- ing and taking his hand, they took their station upon the floor.

*T remained thunderstruck, and rooted to the spot, until I saw the eyes of my hated rival fixed upon me, and throwing off the spell that bound me, I assumed a proud cold leok, and passed from the hall, As { swept by the dancers, Eve- line paused a moment when just beside me, and bending close to her ear, I whispered ‘ Eveline, farewell forever.’

“She turned slightly pale, and then asked, When?”

‘THIS IS TRU E LIBE RTY WHEN FREE-BORN ME N—H AVING TO ADVISE THE PUBLIC—MAY SPE AK FREE. ?—MALros’ s ; Eursripes.

DECEMBER 7, 1850.

“ Now, to-night — to-morrow, any time,” | eagerly answered,

‘Promptness is a good quality, you'll make a fine soldier. Get ready to start in the morning, for Newport, Ky.”

“I will be "yeady,” and rushing from the room, I hastened home, packed up my things, and threw myself down upon the bed to sleep. But it was impossible. Heavy thoughts were crowding my mind with lightening speed, and I resolved to depart the next day without bidding a single soul farewell. 1 know you will deem it strange for me to hurry off with- out bidding a single soul farewell. I know you will deem it strange for me to hurry off without bidding adieu to father or mother or sister or brother, but feeling the deep respect which I held for my father’s advice, would prevail, and | should be induced to remain at home, I made the resolve and carried it out. The next morning I was at the office by seven o’clock, was furnished with a suit of regimentals, and departed for the railway depot, to start for Wheeling. As I hur- ried along the street, who should turn a corner but Eveline, ‘and we met for the last time on earth. I informed her of my intention, and without manifesting any disposition of regret at my departure, she gaily said,

“ Good bye, and may good luck attend you,” and glided away.

“A new fuel was added to my desire to hasten from such scenes, and [| had soon left the town forthe Ohio. J will not weary you with further details, as my breath is failing fast. Suffice to say, I arrived in Mexico, and here I am perish- ing by inches upon the battle field.

“Here,” he continued “is a ring,” taking one from his finger, and present- ing itto me, which was given me by Eveline as a bond of our marriage con- tract. JI have worn it ever sinee, and, as I daily told her then, ‘it shall leave me but with my death.” ‘Take it to her wher, you get back, and if she be unmarrizé, give it to her, and tell her he who ser, it, never forgot her fora moment, even iv, his dying hour, and is lying bener Ah tne clods ofa foreign soil. This bierle give back to my father, and tell ham J. have studied its precepts; to my mothrer and sister, say that [ sent them a s09’s dying love, to my brother's, beware of human stri fe”

He faltered in his sp: vech, and then murmuring “I am going,” pressed my hand feebly, and expired. I dug a lone grave upon the Geld, and laid him down to rest, and /eit him to “sleep his last sleep,” until that day when all shall be summoned to a figal account.

One year rolied on and how checkered by passing events. Chapultepec had fallen, the city of Mexico was taken, and peace, thyice glorious, peace had waved her pinvens over the land ‘of wat. © The volunteers were joyfully hastening home,

;and ‘among the rest [ once more trod my

native land,a freeman again: ip heart tad soul. A spell of sickness at first

“'To-night, I join the army for Mexi- co,’ | firmly answered.

“ A deep flush passed haughtily across her brow, and then waving, her hap

racefully, she replied ‘Go,’ and ag‘ain giied through the mazes of the dange,

“LT rushed from the spot, and never peused until | had entered the recruiting ofiice, and offered myself a candidate for the army.

“ Are you a good, moral man, of well regulated habits,” asked the serjeant.

“] can give you a hundred certificates, if necessary,” T hagtily replied.

“1 rather think you'll do,” said the officer with a smile, and he enrolled me as a soldiers When do you wish to

| confined me several weeks, but at Jength { I rose wearied and feeble from the bed, and my physicians recommended a change of air. [ travelled into Virginia, and one evening I entered the town of G—ch. I inquired “for the family of my friend. and was directed to a large fine-looking building upon the principal street. | advanced and rung the bell, and anxious- ly waited for an answer. At length the door opened, and an old, gray-headed man stood before me, the Tines of his furrowed face marked by care, and his whole appearance betokening one who had a secret grief at heart. * Mr. —, I presume?” said J, bowing.

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Vol. 1: No. 88

“The same, sir, won't you walk in?” replied the old man politely.

I entered the house, and was soon seat- ed in the parlor, when the old man started to leave the room.

“[ have something of importance for your private ear,” said I hastily.

He turned toward me, and taking the Bible from my pocket, T held it up to view, Quicker than thought the father sprang forward, caught the book in his hand, and murmured, as the tears fell slowly over his aged cheeks,

“* My son, my son, you bring news of him.”

“1 do, but it is very bad,” I answered, my voice trembling as | spoke, and | retold to him the scene upon the battle field.

When I had finished, the old mau clasped his hands in silent agony, and raising his eyes towards the ceiling, ex- claimed in deep and fervent tones, * God's will be done.”

At this moment a young lady of pile. and care worn cotntenance entered * ,.. parlor, and rising, [ said:

“ Miss Eveline , | believe

“The same,” she celmly repur ik

She ceased speaking, and 4 ; her eyes glanced to the ring which [ ‘gilently pre- sented, she stretched fort, jer hand, grasped it convulsively, th’ sn fell sudden- ly ferward upon her facrs and lay upon the carpet, the blood zing rapidly from her mouth. The ‘terrible ordeal had broken a blood ¢e :ssel, and her spirit passed uncheck~-d tg another world.

A plain mandi. slab in the grave yard

of the town of G—ch, upon which is,

engraved the }.one word * Evaline,” marks the last reatiing place of the betrothed of

the Dyv ig Vouuaterr, — Cincinnaii Vonpar ei¢ ev.

‘CIUXILLING INCIDENT OF THE TEXAN WAR.

The tragedy of Nacogdoches, and the romantic incidents which led to the ‘Tex- an war of Independence, find their paral+ lel only in the Rion history of Lucretia and the elder Brutus. Juan Costa was a person of great influence and bravery in the wild forests; but he fell under the displeasure of Santa Ann, and his migion, Pedras, the commandant of Nacog-- doches, was sent to arrest him. Te ar- rested his father at the supper table, at- tended by his only daughter, a young girl of surprising beauty and intelli genee. He loaded him with chains, and cast him into prison, notwithstanding her tears ané entreaties. Finally he pro- posed to free the father ifthe daughter would consent to sacrifice her innocence and honor. She réjected the infainous proposition with a blow in the face; when the armed ruffian swore a horrible oath to execute his will on them both and then * # * ”

With dark eyes,-tearless, ¢ glassy, fixed as thoze of a corpse, yet flashing a doubie portion of luminous fire, she mounted a horse and hurried away wildly around the country. She halted atevery house so matter whether Mexican or American, and rehearsed in tones of thrilling horror, her father’s wrongs and her own, Al! timid modesty, all weakness had vanisied from ber tongue, utterly consumed by the scorching thirst of vengeance. She painted, in passion’s fiery language, and with awful] minuteness, the facts of the damning deed: she bared her virgin bosom, and showed the livid marks of the ravisher’s among the mazes of those azure veins along the “gurface of that expanse of snow, now se polluted and sojled, but before pure ag the gleam of dh angel's wings.

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