At and prayed that they might win laurels in the ensu- fearful agonies of the victims of war. The Royal- see what could have terrified the mother in this ing conflict. ists had retreated, and the wounded were left to manner. They beheld her grief in astonishment, The hour arrived for the march, and with but perish.-The stars above were the only witnesses of and it was not without great difficulty that they little delay, the reinforced army appeared at the their woe, and the chilling east wird passed keenly drew her from the apparently lifeless form. gates of Paris, whither the court, since the siege of over the place where death in a thousand forms length, after a closer examination, one of the gipsies Rouen, had returned. Universal consternation sought and found its spoil, whilst with its mournful exclaimed-"Be tranquil, mother; he is not dead. seized the city at the appearance of the enemy. The murmurs the sighs of the fainting and bleeding He is only in a swoon; let us bind up his head Queen trembled; she anticipated with terror the soldiers mingled. And now in that awful moment directly." revenge of the Huguenot party if Paris fell into friend lay face to face with foe, all crowding togetheir hands, and she had now no alternative but re-ther to receive, if possible, a little warmth, albeit course to negotiation. In the meantime winter set from an enemy-a little relief from the piercing, in with rigor, and the fortifications of the town killing cold. Gui still lay senseless beneath his were strengthened. Six thousand Spaniards came steed, his young life ebbing away. He had, indeed, to the relief of Paris, and negotiations were at an been dangerously wounded, the sabre having made so deep an indentation on his skull that it was only marvellous how he had escaped instantaneous death. During a moment of partial consciousness, he collected sufficient strength to draw the horsecloth over the welling wound, and then relapsed into insensibility. end. Conde's army, which had suffered severely from the inclemency of the weather, was compelled to withdraw into Normandy, in order to collect fresh forces, and await the promised help from England; but no sooner had he left the gates of Paris than he was pursued by a large number of the royal army, and an engagement was inevitable. The gipsy was calm in a moment, and again bending over Gui she examined his head, felt his pulse, and, satisfied that he yet breathed, she raised him on her arm, poured a few drops of wine into his mouth, and after his wound had been bound to the extent of their skill, the two men lifted him up. They now pursued their way with their burden over the heaps of slain to the little river side, where, finding a spot which they could ford, they crossed to the opposite bank, and after a long walk they halted in a forest which lay in the neighborhood of Montford. When once arrived at a place of safety, Gui was comfortably laid before the fire, and his It was a true remark which Maugiron had jest-wounds dressed; Adelma ordered a maiden whom ingly made that gipsies, like flights of ravens, hov- she called her granddaughter to share her watch, ered over battle-fields to plunder the fallen. Their whilst the two men who had carried him to the peculiar and dark superstitions, their distinct habits wood returned with eager haste to the field of CHAPTER X.—THE BATTLE OF DREUX-REJOICING IN and customs, their wandering, lawless, and nomade PARIS THE GIPSIES' PROGRESS. life, did not prevent them from intimate acquaintance with the affairs of the world, and thus it was that they were always ready in time of war to avail themselves of the chances of spoil, and then to return laden with booty to their lurking-places in some remote province, or to their retreat in the distant Pyrenees. Adelma's horde, one of the strong est and most daring which at that time wandered through France, had followed the Huguenot army at a distance. Thirsting for gain, they all hastened to the scene after the battle was ended. Adelma alone was missing. The tender feeling which in times past the beautiful young wife of St. Flore had excited, when the slighted country girl poured out her woman's woes into her bosom, had never been extinguished. The echo of those silvery tones " T was on the 19th of December that the rival IT armies came in sight of one another at a small distance from the ancient town of Dreux. Coligny and Condé, although prepared for the engagement, had not calculated on an attack this day, but the moment was come. The Reiters, or German cavalry, were the first objects of the attack of the Catholics, but the onset was bravely resisted, and the troops overthrown. "Onward, my children," said Mouvans, triumphantly, "they flee-they flee!" As like a raging torrent he urged his regiment on to the Swiss, who, headed by the aged Montmorency, stood like their native mountains, firm and immoveable; but at length they, too, gave way, and the Constable him self fell. Surrender!" said Mouvans, brandishing his sabre over the fallen hero's head-" surrender!" of benevolence and love had sounded in her ears battle. It required the utmost efforts of Adelma to restore the wounded man to consciousness. He lay insensible until early morning, when, opening his eyes, to her great joy, he recognised Adelma. Ah, Gui," she said, softly, "Adelma keeps her word, thou seest. She is near thee in the worst moment of thy life, and I thank Heaven that she is permitted to be so." Gui pressed her hand, and looked up. "Thou shalt not die," she replied; "thine hour is not yet come." Again he closed his eyes, the maiden brought some strong broth, which Adelma having administered, he slumbered. In the meantime a general feeling of discontent prevailed in the camp among the male gipsies, on account of the interest which Adelma manifested towards the wounded man whom she had taken under her protection; and her son, the head of the tribe, reproached her bitterly for her conduct. 66 He was silent, and then said— "But what wilt thou do with him? We must depart speedily to Dauphiny, and tread our way between two armies. That of Guise is now at our left hand, and Coligny is leading his back to Normandy. The booty that we have found is immense. How shall we carry the wounded man and our prize together? Depart we must, for this is no place of safety for us." through her wild and wandering life, and she could now only think with horror on a slaughter in which, The fight lasted for seven hours, and the advant-perhaps, Gui, the child of her benefactor, had fallen. age was constantly fluctuating; but at the moment She had observed the progress of the battle from Ungrateful being!" she replied, "thou art not that victory was declaring for the Protestants, Guise, the heights of Montford, and scarcely had she seen worthy of a mother's love. The mother of that who, with a body of troops, had remained a quiet the army withdraw, and night draw her mantle over youth saved thine from madness and death, and spectator of the conflict, approached. The shock the horrid scene, than the gipsies hastened to the thou wouldst have me leave her child to perish." was irresistible, Condé's horse fell, and after a short field in order to begin their business of despoiling. resistance he was taken prisoner, while cries of vic- Adelma, too, followed, and with a lighted torch began her sorrowful search. So loud were the tory resounded through the royal ranks. beatings of her anxious heart, that they almost deprived her of the power of breathing, and unwillingly and heavily did her feeble voice join in the monotonous death-song which it was her people's wont to chant over the slain. She did not, however, unite in the pursuit of her companions, but with her lighted torch stooped down to many a livid face in search of the well-known features of Viole. "Go, then, and leave me with him," was the She had already traversed the place where the reply, accompanied with a look of such bitter rewounded youth lay more than once without discov-proach and scorn, that the man was confounded, ering him; but at length, perceiving the horse- and slunk quietly away, with many an inward murcloth with which he had staunched his wound, mur, however, that his avarice was likely to be disIn a moment she had recognised appointed; then, judging it was vain to protest she stopped. him, and a wild cry of grief proceeded from the further, he gave orders for the construction of a rude barrow, on which the sick man could be laid, and gipsy's voice. Some people of her tribe hastened at the sound to as soon as it was completed, they broke up their Coligny, who was never greater than in adversity, now assembled his routed infantry behind a thicket, and ordering them to follow him across the little river Blaise, he proposed to give battle again by the village of Blainville; Mouvans, in the meantime, fighting desperately with St. André. The conflict lasted till nightfall, and St. André fell in the struggle. But night did not terminate the engagement. Victory was not yet decided, although the field was covered with the stiffening dead, and resounded with the groans of the wounded and dying. Gui de Viole, among the latter number, lay beneath his dying war horse, bleeding fearfully. Dark fell the shades of the winter's night over the field of battle, increasing by its severity the camp, packed up their ill-gotten treasure, and prepared for a march. The chief then went to Adelma, and showed her the means he had provided for Gui's removal. Her eye once more lighted kindly on him, and before another half-hour had elapsed no traces could be found of the wandering children of the desert. Acevedo sighed. "It wants a long time till night, my child, and it is a heavy, weary task to read our own fate there." He rose, apparently in an agony of anxiety and grief, when a gentle tap was heard at the door. Acevedo opened it. A hand was extended, and, a letter being presented, the door was closed without News of the victory arrived at Paris. The cry, Acevedo having recognised the messenger. He "Condé is taken, the Huguenots destroyed," re-stepped to the window, and read hastily. Having sounds from one end of the city to the other; and the shouts of the fanatical populace is loud and triumphant. The ringing of bells proclaims the result of the battle, and thousands stream to the great gates of Notre Dame to sing the Te Deum for the victory over their fallen brethren. On this memorable day Master Acevedo was seated in his solitary chamber, reading a large folio attentively. The pale, beautiful, but dis done so, he threw the letter into the fire, whilst the deep lines in his brow grew darker and heavier. In another moment he had left the room, and yet nothing of the news which you have apparently received from the Duke; but I may, perhaps, remind your Majesty that the stars cannot lie." "Explain yourself," said Catherine, with some agitation. "Condé is in your power," he replied, "but Montmorency is in Coligny's. St. André's fate is sealed, and 7000 are missing in the army of Guise." Catherine started. "So the news of the victory is a lie! But if no victory of Guise's, still it is a triumph for me." "True," said Acevedo, "for André is no more; and he-forgive me, my Queen, that I insult you by repeating the words-he who would have thrown your Majesty into the Seine-is now powerless in death." Catherine's countenance underwent a great change. Every passion of which her heart was capable was written there. She bit her lips, and was si guised Gabrielle, with her head rest ing on her hand, lent, for she comprehended the astrologer's mean was there; and some sad recollec tion or other was apparently clouding her spirit, and filling her soft and lovely eye with tears. The sound of rejoicing, too, fell on her ear. "Hark!" she said, "what can that ringing of bells mean?" Acevedo listened, and, folding his hands, he said, "My God, that is the song of triumph which France is singing [GUI DE T. FLORE DISCOVERED ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE BY ADELMA.] over her children's graves!" A cold shudder ran through his frame, and he trembled like an aspen leaf. Gabrielle started forward, and earnestly inquired the cause. "Child," said the old man, "thou hast a father in prison-how wouldst thou feel if thou knewest that the prisoners were all destroyed?" Gabrielle turned pale as death. "Frightful," she said, shuddering. "Understand, then," said Acevedo, "my anxiety. One has fought in that battle who is dear to me as life; and does he yet survive? Who can tell me this ?" Gabrielle was alone. Poor maiden! she laid her hand on her throbbing heart, as though she would stay its beating. "Good Acevedo," she said, "so good, and yet to have suffered thus. Poor man, the world must have dealt hardly with him. "Ah, my father! ah, Gui!" sighed she, and sank into a mournful reverie. Acevedo in the meantime hastened to the Queen. "Do you come to wish me joy, Acevedo?" said she, with a triumphant smile. ing, who stood before her as calm and unmoved as though the matter were entirely indifferent to him. The tumult in the Queen's bosom, however, subsided in a moment; and, turning to Açevedo with a smile, she said, "And how shall we pro ceed?" "Catherine rules Françe," was the reply; "and does sho ask how?" A triumphant smile lighted up the Queen's face with conscious power, and she asked Acevedo whether he could tell her any particulars of Condé's fate. "Your Majesty surely remembers," he replied, "how near is Condé's relation to you; and will not visit on him too severely the fault to which party hatred drove him." "And suffer him to go unpunished, you would say, for having given up Havre to Elizabeth!" was the proud reply. "The Lord rules the hearts of kings and queens," "No," replied the astrologer, "I leave that to was the reply. "Condé will not fall by your others. hand." "What induced you to seek this audience !" she said at last. "How?" said Catherine. "You do not doubt the "Ah!" said Gabrielle, simply, "why not ask the truth of the victory which all Paris celebrates?" stars, thou who canst read them so surely?" P. D. ORVIS, Fublisher, 130 Fulton street, New York. Monthly Parts, 18% cts. each. Yearly Subscription to either edition $2, in advance. Ten Copies for FIFTEEN DOLLARS. WE BOMARSUND. are this week enabled to present our readers with a view of the fortress of Bomarsund recently taken by the Allies from Russia. The following summary of the incidents of the siege, contain every particular which has been authenticated: On Monday, the 7th August, Sir Charles Napier hoisted his flag in the little Bulldog, and steamed up to Bomarsund. On Tuesday, the 8th, at daybreak, the troops landed all the boats of the division before Bomarsund were employed in the service. No opposition was offered by the Russians, although the locality was favorable for riflemen. [BOMARSUND, AND THE FORTIFICATIONS OF SCARPANS.] Friday, 11th, and Saturday, 12th.-The guns | batteries poured an incessant fire on the rear, and an were set into position, and batteries erected on English eight-inch gun on the captured six-gun shore. battery maintained an excellent flanking fire. Sunday, 13th.-The French pattery commenced firing on Tzee Fort at 4 a. m., and at 4.30 p.m. the fort showed a flag of truce. Monday, 14th.—The Tzee Fort surrendered to the French. The number of killed and wounded is estimated at thirty. Tuesday, 15th.-The English field and breaching batteries opened fire on Nottich Fort, which was breached by four p.m., and surrendered in the evening. In this fort there were five killed and six or seven wounded, and 125 prisoners. The captured fort of Tzee blew up about one p.m. On Wednesday, the 16th, the French batteries advanced considerably nearer to the land face of the fort, and kept up an incessant fire; the heavy guns in the six-gun battery, served by the English, did great execution; the large blocks of granite that formed the face of the fort, and which in appearance offered an immense resistance, fell out in masses, and the rubble with which the wall was filled in, tumbled out in heaps. At 12.30 a flag of truce was held out at an embrasure of Bomarsund, towards the The English and the French ships continued firing fleet; a boat, with an officer, was sent on shore, and On Wednesday, the 9th, stores and guns were at the sea face of the principal fort of Bomarsund, at about half-past twelve the Governor-General while, at the same time, the French field and mortar Bodisco-surrendered. landed. HARD TIMES. BY CHARLES DICKENS. (Continued.) She had turned upon her pillow, and lay with her face upon her arm, so that he could not see it. All her wildness and passion had subsided: but, though softened, she was not in tears. Her father was changed in nothing so much as in the respect that he would have been glad to see her in tears. "Some persons hold," he pursued, still hesitating, "that there is a wisdom of the Head, and that there is a wisdom of the Heart. I have not supposed so; but, as I have said, I mistrust myself I have supposed the head to be all-sufficient. It may not be all-sufficient; how can I venture this morning to say that it is! If that other kind of wisdom should be what I have neglected, and should be the instinct that is wanted, Louisa-" now. He suggested it very doubtfully, as if he were half unwilling to admit it even now. She made him no answer; lying before him on her bed, still half dressed, much as he had seen her lying on the floor of his room last night. "Louisa," and his hand rested on her hair again, "I have been absent from here, my dear, a good deal of late; and though your sister's training has been pursued according to-the system," he appeared to come to that word with great reluctance always, "it has necessarily been modified by daily associations begun, in her case, at an early age. I ask you, ignorantly and humbly, my daughter-for the better, do you think?" "Father," she replied, without stirring, "if any harmony has been awakened in her young breast that was mute in mine until it turned to discord, let her thank Heaven for it, and go upon her happier way, taking it as her greatest blessing that she has avoided my way." “O my child, my child!" he said in a forlorn "I am an unhappy man to see you thus manner, ! sessed, long turned upon themselves, became a heap quite devoid, more abjectly than I do. Does not it lie." So it lay there, warming into life a crowd of gentler thoughts; and she lay still. As she softened with the quiet, and the consciousness of being so watched, some tears made their way into her eyes. The face touched hers, and she knew that there were tears upon it, too, and she the cause of them. As Louisa feigned to rouse herself, and sat up, Sissy retired, so that she stood placildy near the bed side. In the innocence of her brave affection, and the brimming up of her old devoted spirit, the once deserted girl shone like a beautiful light upon the darkness of the other. Louisa raised the hand that it might clasp her neck, and join its fellow there. She fell upon her knees, and clinging to the stroller's child, looked up at her almost with veneration. СПАРТER XXX. "I hope I have not disturbed you. I have come to ask you if you will let me stay with you." “Why should you stay with me? My sister will MR. JAMES HARTHOUSE passed a whole miss you. You are everything to her." "Have I always hated you so much?" "I hope not, for I have always loved you, have always wished that you should know it. you changed to me a little, shortly before you left night and a day in a state of so much hurry, that the World, with its best glass in its eye, would scarcely have recognised him during that insane interval, as the brother Jem of the honorable and jocular member. He was positively agitated. He several times spoke with an emphasis, similar to the vulgar manner. He went in and went out in an unaccountable way, like a man with an object. He rode like a highway man. In a word, he was to horribly bored by existing circumstances, that he forgot to go in for boredom in the manner prescribed by the authorities. After putting his horse at Coketown through the from time to time ringing his bell with the greatest storm, as if it were a leap, he waited up all night: fury, charging the porter who kept watch with delinquency in witholding letters or messages that could not fail to have been intrusted to him, and demanding restitution on the spot. The dawn coming, the morning coming, and the day coming, and neither message nor letter coming with either, he went down to the country house. There the report was, Mr. Bounderby away, and Mrs. Bounderby in town. What avails it to me that you do not reproach me, home. Not that I wondered at it. You knew so Left for town suddenly last evening. Not even if I so bitterly reproach myself!" He bent his head, and spoke low to her. Louisa, I have a misgiving that some change may have been slowly working about me in this house, by mere love and gratitude; that what the Head had left undone and could not do, the Heart may have been doing silently. Can it be so?" She made him no reply. "I am not too proud to believe it, Louisa. How could I be arrogant, and you before me? Can it be so? Is it so, my dear ?" He looked upon her, once more, lying cast away there; and without another word went out of the room. He had not been long gone, when she heard a light tread near the door, and knew that some one stood beside her. She did not raise her head. A dull anger that she should be seen in her distress, and that the involuntary look she had so resented should come to this fulfillment, smouldered within her like an unwhole. some fire. All closely imprisoned forces rend and destroy. The air that would be healthful to the earth, the water that would enrich it, the heat that would ripen it, tear it when caged up. So in her bosom even now; the strongest qualities she pos 'May I try?" said Sissy, emboldened to raise her hand to the neck that was insensibly drooping toward her. Louisa, taking down the hand that would have embraced her in another moment, held it in one of hers, and answered: "First, Sissy, do you know what I am? I am so proud and so hardened, so confused and troubled, so resentful and unjust to every one and to myself, that everything is stormy, dark, and wicked to me. Does not that repel you?" "No!" "I am I am so unhappy, and all that should have made me otherwise is so laid waste, that if I had been bereft of since to this hour, and instead of being as learned as you think me, had to begin to acquire the simplest truths, I could not want a guide to peace, contentment, honor, all the good of which I am every train but the mail. It would have been a to read this newspaper, when the waiter ap- You may be sure, sir, you will never see her again, as long as you live." Mr. Harthouse drew a long breath; and, if ever "Beg your pardon sir. You're wanted, sir, if you man found himself in the position of not knowing please." what to say, made the discovery beyond all question A general recollection that this was the kind of that he was so circumstanced. The child-like ingething the Police said to the swell mob, caused Mr. nuousness with which his visitor spoke, her modest Harthouse to ask the waiter in return, with brist-fearlessness, her truthfulness, which put all artifice ling indignation, what the Devil he meant by aside, her entire forgetfulness of herself in her earnest quiet holding to the object with which she had "Beg your pardon, sir. Young lady outside, sir come; all this, together with her reliance on his wishes to see you." "How the deuce, " returned Tom, staring, "could I see my sister, when she was fifteen miles" wanted?" off?" Cursing these quick retorts of the young gentleman to whom he was so true a friend, Mr. Harthouse disembarrassed himself of that interview with the smallest conceivable amount of ceremony, and debated for the hundredth time what all this could mean? He made only one thing clear. It was, that whether she was in town or out of town, whether he had been premature with her who was so hard to comprehend, or she had lost courage, or they were discovered, or some mischance or mistake at present incomprehensible had occurred, he must remain to confront his fortune, whatever it was. The hotel where he was known to live when condemned to that region of blackness, was the stake to which he was tied. As to all the rest-what will be, will be. "Outside? Where?" Giving the waiter to the personage before-mentioned, as a blockhead duly qualified for that consignment, Mr. Harthouse hurried into the gallery. A young woman whom he had never seen stood there. Plainly dressed, very quiet, very pretty. As he conducted her into the room and placed a chair for her, he observed, by the light of the candles, that she was even prettier than he at first believed. Her face was innocent and youthful, and its expression remarkably pleasant. She was not afraid of him, or in any way disconcerted; she seemed to have her mind entirely preoccupied with the occasion of her visit, and to have substituted that consideration for herself. easily-given promise-which in itself shamed him— presented something in which he was so inexperienced, and against which he knew any of his usual weapons would fall so powerless; that not a word could he rally to his relief. At last he said: "So startling an announcement, so confidently made, and by such lips, is really disconcerting in the last degree. May I be permitted to inquire. if you are charged to convey that information to me in those hopeless words, by the lady of whom we speak?" "I have no charge from her." "The drowning man catches at the straw. With no disrespect for your judgment, and with no doubt of your sincerity, excuse my saying that I cling to the belief that there is yet hope that I am not con"I speak to Mr. Harthouse?" she said, when they demned to perpetual exile from that lady's prewere alone. "So, whether I am waiting for a hostile message, or an assignation, or a penitent remonstrance, or an impromptu wrestle with my friend Bounderby in the Lancashire manner-which would seem as likely "To Mr. Harthouse." He added in his mind, as anything else in the present state of affairs-I'll" And you speak to him with the most confiding dine," said Mr. James Harthouse." Bounderby has eyes I ever saw, and the most earnest voice (though the advantage in point of weight; and if anything of so quiet) I ever heard." a British nature is to come off between us, it may be as well to be in training." Therefore, he rang the bell, and tossing himself negligently on a sofa, ordered "Some dinner at six-with a beefsteak in it," and got through the intervening time as well as he could. That was not particularly well; for he remained in the greatest perplexity, and, as the hours went on, and no kind of explanation offered itself, his perplexity augmented at compound interest.. However, he took affairs as coolly as it was in human nature to do, and entertained himself with the facetious idea of the training more than once. "It wouldn't be bad," he yawned at one time, "to give the waiter five shillings, and throw him." At another time it occurred to him, "Or a fellow of about thirteen or fourteen stone might be hired by the hour." But these jests did not tell materially on the afternoon, or his suspense; and, sooth to say, they both lagged fearfully. It was impossible, even before dinner, to avoid often walking about in the pattern of the carpet, looking out of the window, listening at the door for footsteps, and occasionally becoming rather hot when any steps approached that room. But, after dinner, when the day turned to twilight, and the twilight turned to night, and still no communication was made to him, it began to be, as he expressed it, "like the Holy Office and slow torture." However, still true to his conviction that indifference was the genuine high-breeding (the only conviction he had), he seized this crisis as the opportunity for ordering candles and a newspaper. "If I do not understand-and I do not, sir" said Sissy, "what your honor as a gentleman binds you to, in other matters:" the blood really rose in his face as she began in these words: "I am sure I may rely upon it to keep my visit secret, and to keep secret what I am going to say. I will rely upon it, if you will tell me I may so far trust you.” "You may, I assure you." "I am young, as you see; I am alone, as you see. In coming to you, sir, I have no advice or encouragement beyond my own hope." sence." "There is not the least hope. The first object of my coming here, sir, is to assure you that you must believe that there is no more hope of your ever speaking with her again, than there would be if she had died when she came home last night." "Must believe? But if I can't-or if I should, by infirmity of nature, be obstinate-and won't-" "It is still true. There is no hope." James Harthouse looked at her with an incredulous smile upon his lips; but her mind looked over and beyond him, and the smile was quite thrown away. He bit his lip and took a little time for consideration. "Well! If it should unhappily appear," he said, "after due pains and duty on my part, that I am brought to a position so desolate as this banishment, I shall not become the lady's persecutor. But you said you had no commission from her?” "I have only the commission of my love for her, "I think," said Sissy, “you have already guessed and her love for me. I have no other trust than whom I left just now?" He thought, "But that is very strong," as he "I have been in the greatest concern and uneasi- "I left her within an hour." "At her father's." that I have been with her since she fled home, and that she has given me her confidence. I have no further trust, than that I know something of her character and her marriage. O Mr. Harthouse, I think you had that trust, too!" He was touched in the cavity where his heart should have been-in that nest of addled eggs where the birds of heaven would have lived if they had not been whistled away-by the fervor of this reproach. "I am not a moral sort of fellow," he said, "and Mr. Harthouse's face lengthened in spite of his coolness, and his perplexity increased. "Then II never make any pretensions to the character of a certainly," he thought, "do not see where we are going." "She hurried there last night. She arrived there in great agitation, and was insensible all through the He had been trying in vain, for half an hour, night. I live at her father's, and was with her. moral sort of fellow. I am as immoral as need be. At the same time, in bringing any distress upon the lady who is the subject of the present conversation, or in unfortunately compromising her in any way, or in committing myself by any expression of senti |