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Coates Kinney

B A Revolutionary Anecdote.

HILE South Carolina was overrun by the British troops, there was a staunch Whig family, named Martin, which sent all the men to the American camp. Two of the sons had recently married, and their wives, Mrs. Grace and Mrs. Rachel Martin, resided with their mother-in-law. In all the events of the war they took the deepest interest, and both panted for an opportunity to serve their country, and teach their oppressors a lesson.

One evening, intelligence came to them that a courier, conveying important despatches to one of the upper stations, was to pass that night along the road, guarded by two British officers. They determined to waylay the party, and, at the risk of their lives, to obtain possession of the papers. For this purpose, the two young women disguised themselves in their husbands' clothes, and, being well provided with arms, took their station at a point on the road which they knew the escort must pass.

It was already late, and they had not waited long before the tramp of horses was heard in the distance. It may be imagined with what anxious expectation the heroines awaited the approach of the critical moment on which so much depended. The forest solitude around them, the silence of night and the darkness, must have added to the terrors conjured up by busy fancy. Presently, the courier appeared with his attendant guard. As they came close to the spot, the disguised women leaped from their covert in the bushes, presented their pistols at the officers, and demanded the instant surrender of the party and their despatches. The men were completely taken by surprise, and, in their alarm at the sudden attack, yielded a prompt submission. The seeming soldiers put them on their parole, and having taken possession of the papers, hastened home by a short cut through the woods. No time was lost in sending the important documents by a trusty messenger to General Greene.

The adventure had a singular termination. The paroled officers, thus thwarted in their mission, returned by the road they had taken, and stopping at the house of Mrs. Martin, asked accommodation as weary travellers for the night. The hostess inquired the reason of their returning so soon after they had passed. They replied by showing their paroles, saying they had been taken prisoners by two rebel lads. The ladies rallied them upon their want of intrepidity. "Had you no arms?" was asked.

The officers answered that they had arms, but had been suddenly taken off their guard, and were allowed no time to use their weapons. They departed the next morning, having no suspicion that they owed their capture to the very woman whose hospitality they had claimed.

Miss Laugh and Miss Fret.

RIES little Miss Fret, In a very great pet : "I hate this warm weather; it's horrid to tan, It scorches my nose, And blisters my toes, And wherever I go, I must carry a fan." ،، Chirps little Miss Laugh:

Why, I couldn't tell half The fun I am having this bright summer day.

I sing through the hours, I cull pretty flowers, And ride like a queen on the sweet smelling hay."

A Better Whistle than Whine.

S I was taking a walk, I noticed two little boys on their way to school. The small one stumbled and fell, and, though he was not very much hurt, he began to whine in a babyish way-not a regular roaring boy cry, as though he were half killed, but a little cross whine.

The older boy took his hand in a kind and fatherly way, and said: "O, never mind, Jimmy, don't whine; it is a great deal better to whistle." And he began in the merriest way a cheerful boy whistle. Jimmy tried to join in the whistle. "I can't whistle as nice as you, Charlie," said he; "my lips won't pucker up good ." "O, that is because you have not got all the whine out yet," said Charlie; "but you try a minute and the whistle will drive the whine away." So he did, and the last I saw or heard of the little fellows they were whistling away as earnestly as though that was the chief end of life.

Nature's Lady.

HREE years she grew in sun and shower, Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown ; This child I to myself will take, She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own. "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse: and with me The girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restra.n. "She shall be sportive as the fawn That wild with glee across the lawn Or up the mountain springs; 66 And hers shall be the breathing balm, And hers the silence and the calm Of mute insensate things. "The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willows bend; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. "The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round.

And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face."