{ title: 'The Industrial School advocate, and soldiers' aid. (Rochester, N.Y.) 1865-18??, September 15, 1880, Page 3, Image 3', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92060585/1880-09-15/ed-1/seq-3/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92060585/1880-09-15/ed-1/seq-3.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92060585/1880-09-15/ed-1/seq-3/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn92060585/1880-09-15/ed-1/seq-3/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
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“ Oome on Monsieur,” said the voung man. “ W hither do you lead me ?” “ You shall soon learn, b at be sure it is to a place of safety, since I have sworn it to my mother.” ‘•Goon, then; I will follow,” said the marquis. The young man led the fugitive down to the river’s bank, where they embarked, and were soon on the opposite side of the Seine. Here, after landing, he conducted him by back lanes to the rear of a house on the Rue St. Honore, w hereafter knock ing gently, they were admitted by a fair young girl about the same age as the j young man who bore the marquis’s name. She was so pretty, indeed, that the fugitive gazed admiringly on her charming features. “ Citizen Jonrnot,” said a matronly j woman, as the marquis entered a large and comfortable room, “ do you remember me ?’’ “ I do not.” “ Well, it is' not strange. But when last we met it was in the Rue de la Paix, twenty years ago. This young woman was then an infant in my arms, and you saved my husband from going to prison.” “ Ah !yes, he has ju st recalled the fact,” said the marquis. “ He is temporarily in charge of the | Conciergerie. But from that hour, with 1 the means you furnished, he has pros pered in trade, and we have been abundant-; ly blessed. Pauline, my daughter, is about to wed this young man, another of your 1 proteges. And now please to step into the next apartment.” The Marquis Journot obeyed, and in stantly found himself in the presence of his wife and children. His kind but humble friends had secreted them in the hour of their great peril, and now brought them in safety to each other. Could gratitude have had better expression ? That very night the marquis and his j family were conducted in safety outside the walls of Paris, and sought and found in the provinces a place of safety until the Reign of Terror bad ceased, and the demon of discord had drank his fill of blood. Truly the kindly deeds of the young marquis, twenty years before had proved to be, “ Bread Cast upon the Waters.”—-1 [.American Cultivator. G e n C l i n t o n ’ s E s c a p e . An A n e c d o t e o f Cyrus. f Cyrus, when a youth, being at the court of his grandfather, C\ fbyses, undertook one day to be a c:.r -nearer at table. It was the duty of this officer to taste the liquor before it was presented to the king. Cyrus, without performing this ceremony, delivered the cup in a very graceful man ner to his grandfather. The king observ ed the omission, which he imputed to for getfulness. “ No,” replied Cyrus, “ I was afraid to taste, because I apprehended there was poison in the liquor, for not long since, at au entertainment which you gave, I observed that the lords of your court, after drinking of it, became noisy, quarrelsome, and frantic. Even you, sir, seemed to have forgotten that you were a king. James Clinton, afterwards Maj-Geu. Clinton, served in the French and Indian war when only twenty years of age. In the war of the Revolution he, with his brother George, then Governor, had com mand of forts Clinton and Montgomery. Sir Henry Clinton, an English General of note, came with a large force of men to storm these forts; and though gallantly defended, they had at last to be given up to the ememy, for the English ^ships of war assisted Sir Henry, and made further resistance useless. Gen. Clinton was the last to leave the forts, and with his brother at his side and a small body of men, he cut his way through to the river side. Here they separated. “ Every one for himself!” was the cry; but the two brothers, James and George, kept together. Hurrying through the bushes that skirted the river bank, they found a small boat. Gen. Clinton urged his brother i it would save but one, but George declared he would not embark in it unless his broth er, too, would accompany him. At this James, with a great exertion of strength, pushed the boat out into the stream, with his brother 111 it, and hurried up the bank. Fortunately, coming across a horse which had been tied by some one, he mounted and rode rapidly away. He had previously changed his clothing, so that lie would not be recognized. It was now night, and before he could join his friends he bad many miles to go, and a certain bridge to cross, guarded, he knew, by English soldiers. There was no help for it, and he dashed along and rushed upon the bridge. He was challenged by the guard, but with the cry, “ Clear the w ay!” he put spurs into his horse, and though bayonets were push ed at him, he escaped without being caught, and with no h u rt except a severe wound in the leg. Being pursued, and knowing the horse could not travel in the dense forest he saw before him, he drew off the bridle and reach ed the woods in safety. But he knew that, wounded and without food, he could not preserve life long in the forest, and hearing the sound of pursuers, he deliber- j ately slid down the side of a precipice a hundred feet high into a ravine. Weary and aching, he limped along the j steep and rocky side of the hill, the blood j bursting from his wound, and his strength ! rapidly failing, when, making a misstep, he fell and landed in a little stream at the bottom. The water, however, did him, good, refreshing him and soothing his i wound ; and crawling up the side of the mountain, he lay all night, racked with pain and fever. When morning came he staggered up, and fortunately came upon one of the half wild horses sometimes found in the vicinity of an army, running loose, probably runaways after battle. He managed to mount, slipped on the bridle he had kept in his hand, and rode sixteen miles through an almost impass able country. He finally reached a house j where he knew he would be safe, and I though he frightened the inmates by his j appearance, he received good attention, and rapidly recovered. Afterwards Gen. Clinton performed many acts of bravery. He was at the siege of Yoi ktown, where his intrepidity gained him further laurels. He at last appeared as a military man in New York when the British evacated that city, and from that time lived in quiet at his home in the State of New York. He died in 1812.— Young Folks' News. E l i z a b e t h S t u a r t P h e i p s —A u t h o r of “ C a t e s A j a r . ” She finished her school life at the age of 19, but her literary activity had begun the . year before she entered the institute, in the shape of various newspaper contribu tions. Her first great popular success was “ The Gates Ajar,” which at once gave her an international reputation. An edition of 20,000 was speedly exhausted ; the de mand continued unabated, and the book still has a large and ready sale. In E n g land, its circulation rivalled that in America. It was brought out by various publishers, and was also printed in cheap popular edditions at 6d. a copy. It was also translated into French, German and Dutch. “ The Gates Ajar ” was pre ceded by ten taking juvenile books publish ed from 1864 to 1867; a proof of Miss Phelps’ remarkable industry. In 1877 “ The Story of A vis” was published. This book has been the subject of many diverse criticisms, fewjifany, of which have denied its power, the great question having been on the truth-of its conclusions. Miss Phelps herself regards the book more affectionately than any of its predecessors, and holds it to he her best. She believes she has grown beyond her earlier works. In Andover her study is not in her father’s house, for she learned, she says, “ like the ministers who study in their churches, or the carpenters who go to their benches, the value of a workshop out of the house.” Therefore, for several years past, she has had her study in an old building next door, one of the oldest at the hill ; a low-walled . chamber with picturesque and tasteful fittings—pictures, draperies, books, easy chairs, tables and a hammock swung from large beams in the ceiling. This building has just been sold and moved away in sections to make room for a large house building for a new professor. Miss Phelps now has her study temporarily in a brown house down Main street, below the college yard, but will probably build a new one before long. For several years she has spent her summers in East Gloucester, where she has built a quaint little cottage in a charm ing spot close to the water’s edge, at the mouth of a gorge opening in the wild rocky shore of Gloucester harbor. With her intense love for the sea she has a thorough liking for seafaring people, whom she regards as the kindest, most large-hearted, and most honest class ot folk. A Cape Cod boy once told her that there were two things that a sailor would die to defend: a fair lady and a fine ship .— Boston Herald. One who is contented with what he has done will never become famous for what he will do.
