But many disorders ensued. Dissensions broke out among the chiefs, a faction of whom set fire to the castle in which Hameed Beg and his followers had taken | up their quarters, and the only one who escaped was again Schamyl, and again, too, by some extraordinary chance which has never been explained. on. Schamyl had before this been distinguished among his fellow-warriors for daring, extraordinary even among the Circassians for austerity of devotion, gravity, and abstemiousness, wisdom in council, and skill, not less than courage, in the field. He was precisely the man to become marked and influential; to "rule the whirlwind and direct the storm," at a period when less robust spirits craved some strong head and bold heart to lean Toward him most men looked, as the one on whom the mantle of inspiration had fallen, and he succeeded to the titles of Hameed Beg. But he had to struggle before he could confirm his power. The Russians, with subtile policy, attempted to create a diversion against the man whom they regarded as their most formidable enemy, by pretending to support a more "legitimate" competitor. Affairs were looking threatening; but Schamyl proved himself equal to them. He confided certain commands to some of his most trustworthy Murids, who solved the difficulty in true Oriental fashion; and Schamyl's enemy was soon removed by assassination. This trouble over, the open struggle recommenced; Schamyl fought bravely, skillfully, desperately, but he was driven to straits, and a convention was agreed on, at which he swore fealty to the Czar on condition that the Russians should retire to a certain distance. Neither party observed, or intended to observe, the promises. The moment Schamyl found himself safe, he issued a fierce proclamation against the Muscovites and their Czar, while the imperial army pushed forward strenuously in its ever-foiled attempt to subdue the country. In one of the expeditions headed by the Russian general, Grabbe, the latter had very nearly accomplished a practical illustration of the vulgar meaning attached to the pronunciation of his name in our English vernacular. The Circassian hero was all but caught, but escaped through the devotion of some of his followers. Schamyl, and a few others, were hiding in a cave by a river side-a party of Russians were approaching-detection was inevitable-when his disciples rushed out of the cave, and seizing a boat, rowed away in ostentatious haste, calculating rightly that the Russians, supposing that Schamyl was on board, would pursue and direct their fire upon them. So it turned out. The pursuers set out in chase after the boat; every one of the devoted Murids was killed, as they had expected; while the prize swam | quietly off and regained the mountains. He was now reduced to such extremities as to be forced to treat seriously for terms of submission. But the conditions offered by General Grabbe included the surrender of Schamyl's two sons as hostages; and they were of course refused, the probable object of the Circassian chief being merely to gain time until he could recruit his exhausted forces. Hostilities having recommenced, Grabbe penetrated to the Circassian head-quarters, but had to beat a hasty retreat after sustaining a heavy loss. Prince Woronzow, the present governor, succeeded Grabbe in 1845, and in the following year Schamyl effected his memorable invasion of the Russian territory—when, after doing the enemy infinite damage in loss of life, property, and arms—ravaging the country in every direction, and obtaining a rich booty-he retired with a meteoric rapidity which left the imperial generals in a state of extreme bewilderment as to how to deal with an enemy who was nowhere but everywhere; scarcely to be seen, but most unmistakably and unpleasantly to be felt. From this time, however, the fortunes of Schamyl have not been in the ascendant. He has sometimes been reduced so low as to have appeared on the brink of ruin. But his genius and recuperative energy seem inexhaustible; and now that he is likely to receive, directly and extensively, the aid which hitherto could only be conveyed to him surreptitiously and in insignificant fragments, he will— the past furnishes every reason to hopebe able to deal heavy and effectual blows against the arrogant power which has set itself up as the common enemy of his country and of the peace of the world. At the age of fifty-seven, with mental and physical energies undiminished, he has still, probably, many years of active exertion before him, and an ample field for such exertion seems to be opening. He has, so far, displayed great powers of governmental organization; and one single instance of the influence of a master mind is the success of his efforts in suppressing the old local feuds and distinctions among the mountain tribes, and in inspiring even the somewhat skeptical inhabitants of the western districts with much of the religious enthusiasm of the eastern tribes. Would his government be a theocracy? | Possibly, to some extent. To his dreams and visions -to his periodical annual "retreats" for consultation with his celestial inspirers-he owes much of his predominant sway over the minds of his followers. In some of these particulars, he seems to have closely imitated the example of Mohammed. No doubt, when left to organize his system peaceably in his own way, and to mature his plans for the future, he would see the expediency of laying aside some of the more transcendental portions of his pretensions; for though by no means possessed of so fine an order of mind as the Emir Abd-elKader, he is a man of keen intelligence, and of unquestionable patriotism. ancient system of raids and forays would also, beyond all doubt, be discontinued; while, with respect to the " export trade" in women, it may be hoped and believed that in "Young Turkey " regenerated, and in Circassia under the rule of a man of wisdom and experience, that infamy would be at an end forever. Although part of his proclaimed creed has been to hold no faith with infidels, it is evident that this applies only to his dealings with his enemies the Muscovites; and the government of Circassia, organized wisely, and recognized in its sovereign independence, would probably be as faithful and respectable as any other Oriental monarchy. The It is well that the Circassians and their able and prudent chief should receive a full meed of admiration for their long and gallant resistance to a gigantic assailant. Russian blood has flowed in torrents in those wild and remote regions; and though a rigid calculation of probabilities leaves it scarcely possible to doubt that, but for the total change which recent events have created in the position of Russia, the mountaineers would, in the course of a few years more, be conquered by sheer process of exhaustion, the wars in the Caucasus would, under any circumstances, occupy a conspicuous page in the annals of resolute struggles against superior force. Of the policy of the Russians it may in truth be said, setting aside the ruthless barbarity with which the war has been conducted, that their principal crime consists in the antecedent crimes which rendered the invasion necessary. It is impossible for them to hold or consolidate their unjustly-acquired territory in the neighborhood, without obtaining possession of the mountain country. The wrong done to the latter is inextricably interwoven with the fraud and violence committed against the former; and the Circassian war is only one link in a prolonged concatenation of injustice. [For the National Magazine.J THE DEAD BABY. BY MRS. H. C. GARDNER. Aн, beautiful one! Thou hast pass'd away like the morning flower, Like the rainbow's blush in the summer shower, And thy smile of love and thy glance of light Have paled like the stars on the brow of night When their course is run. When the sunset glows, Thou wilt steal no more to thy gentle rest, Or, nestling, cling to thy mother's breast, While the angels come in thy dreams to bless With heavenly music or light caress, Thy sweet repose. With the roseate day Thou wilt spring no more, in thy blameless glee, For a frolic wild, to thy grandsire's knee, Or with merry laugh, or with prattling word, Rejoice when thy father's step is heard On his homeward way. Yet thou, evermore, They will hear thy voice in the zephyr clear; A beautiful presence, art lingering near! They will see thy smile in the sunlight fair, They will feel thy kiss in the ambient air For aye, as of yore. In the still, still night, When the ether-arch wears its softest hue, And the stars shine out from their haunts of blue, Will the mourners turn in their yearning love From thy little grave to thy home above In the Eden bright. O friends, can ye weep? Where the blight and the mildew may not come, Is the fair young rose in its delicate bloom; O'er the little form that is sleeping near, Doth the guardian love that was round it here, Its vigils keep. Ah, cherub immortal! There is not a shade on thy sinless brow! There is not an ill that can harm thee now! So early thou 'rt call'd to the' kind Father's side, So safely thou 'rt housed where the blessed abide, Beyond the grave's portal! STITCH! STITCH! STITCH! AN ANTI-HOOD VIEW OF THE MATTER. W the Shirt! Who has not sympaHO has not wept over the Song of thized with the tenant of the garret In poverty, hunger, and dirt 66 until the very names, needle-work" and "needle-women," become associated with poor half-starved creatures, doomed by their employers to sit in foul atmospheres, chained to their seam by the constantlyplied needle and thread, like galley-slaves to the oar? And yet this continual ringing the changes on Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam, is not such a scarecrow to all-is not always so fatal in its consequences; and, though it may be the exception which proves the rule, in an instance we are about to mention, this stitch! stitch! stitch! was preferred-nay, as enthusiastically followed as any branch of high art—as absorbingly as a passion for music, or a love of painting. Annie Linton was the best sewer in Mrs. Roy's school; and the mistress declared, on inspecting the first shirt she made for her father, "that the Duke of Buccleuch himself might wear it!" This was high praise for little Annie, who was | only eleven years of age; and she never forgot it. Her work was the neatest and the cleanest ever seen. Then she did it so quickly, her mother could not keep pace with her daily demand for " thing to sew." some "I wish Annie would take to her book," said Mrs. Linton to her husband. But it was quite clear that Annie never would take to her book; she had little reading and less spelling; and yet she could" mark" (with cotton) all the letters of the alphabet, as if she was a very miracle of learning. "Something to sew!" eagerly demanded Annie. "Will any mowing come of this sewing?" asked her father, with a very natural attempt at a pun. "Those who do not sew shall not reap," said little Annie, cleverly taking up her father's meaning and her work-bag at the same time, as she whisked past him in fear of being too late for school. Three weeks after: "Annie's learning to be a scholar," said Mrs. Linton; "no more demands for sewing." That afternoon Annie came bounding into the house from school, sat upon her father's knee, opened her work-bag, which hung over her arm, and putting a screwed-up paper into his hand, said; "There's the mowing." Her father undid the paper, and found four half-crowns. Annie," questioned her father, "where did this come from?" "From the sewing," answered Annie, laughing delightedly at his surprise, as she escaped from his knee, and ran out of the of the riddle. room, to delay a little longer the solution "Wife," said John Linton, "it is impossible that Annie could earn all this by the sort of child's play girls call work; and whom did she earn it from? I'm afraid there's something wrong." And, to tell the truth, Annie Linton was practicing a little disguise; nor had she given her father all the money she had earned. The sum originally was twelve shillings. This was all designed for her father alone; but a prior claim had come in the way. It was cold winter weather, and the children of the school brought the forms, in a sort of square, round Mrs. Roy's fire. Annie, who was a favorite of the mistress, always occupied a warm corner close to her own big chair. On the day in question, Mrs. Roy happening to be out of the room— "I'll change seats with you, Jessie Wilson, if you're cold," said Annie, addressing a little girl, a very book-worm, who, clad in a threadbare printed cottongown, sat shivering over her lesson. Jessie, thus invited, came a little nearer. "You should put on a woolen frock, like mine, and warm yourself well at your mother's fire before you come to school these winter-days," said Annie, scrutinizing the poverty-struck appearance of the girl. "Mother says," replied Jessie, "that she'd rather do without a fire than my schooling, and she can't pay for both." "Has your mother no fire at home this cold weather?" asked Annie in amazement. "No," said Jessie; "I wish I dared bring her with me here-it's warmer than at home. And I know mother is ill, though she won't tell me." "Sit there," said Annie, placing Jessie "Have you plenty to eat, if you've no fire?" asked Annie. 66 in her warm corner; and don't go out of suredly have written, not the song, but a school without me." song of the shirt; for once when she was That afternoon the two girls went hand questioned as to the dull monotony of her in hand to Jessie's door. work: "Dull? Delightful!" said Annie, in advocacy of her calling. Why, with this rare linen and fine thread, my stitches seem like stringing little pearls along the wristbands and collar !" What an antisong of the shirt might not Annie have written! "This is the first day mother has been forced to send me to school without any breakfast," said Jessie, hanging down her head, as if ashamed of the confession. 66 Here," said Annie, after a slight pause, untwisting the paper in which were deposited her first earnings; "I won't go in with you, for your mother might not like to take it from a little girl like me; but' and she put two shillings into Jessie's hand-"that is to buy you something to eat, and a fire; and if your mother can sew as well as I can," said Annie, with pardonable vanity, "I can tell her how to get plenty of money to pay for both." No wonder Annie's riches increased: the first investment was a good one. Nevertheless, the concealing it from her parents she knew to be wrong; she feared they would disapprove; and she added to her little prayer at night, after the usual ending of "God bless father and motherand forgive me for keeping secret that I helped Jessie Wilson." Could the recording angel carry up a purer prayer to heaven? Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Linton very soon discovered that Mr. Seamwell, of the "Ready-made Linen Warehouse," was the grand source of Annie's wealth. He said there was no one who could work like her, and that he would give her eighteenpence each for the finest description of shirt-making. This was no great payment for Annie's exquisite stitching—and, thirty years ago, it would have brought her threeand-sixpence a shirt. But Annie is of the present, not of the past; and as she could complete a shirt a day, her fingers flying swifter than a weaver's shuttle, she earned nine shillings a week. Annie's eighteenth birthday was celebrated by a tea-party to all the seamstresses of Mr. Scamwell's establishment, where she was now forewoman; besides being a cheerful, kind-hearted little creature, beloved by everybody, it was a compliment, Mr. Seamwell said, she well deservedher admirable superintendence of the department allotted her having increased his business tenfold. Some time after, there was a greater day of rejoicing in the firm of Seamwell and Co. The father had taken his son as a partner, and the son took a partner for life-the indefatigable little seamstress, Annie Linton. There never was a blither bridal. Annie-herself having risen from the ranks-had a present for every workwoman. Indeed it was a day of presents, for on that very morning, and in time to be worn at the wedding, a shawl arrived for Annie all the way from India-an Indian shawl that a duchess would have envied! Upon it was pinned a paper, on which was written: "Wear this for the sake of one who is now rich and happy, but who never can forget the service you rendered to the poor school-girl-JESSIE WILSON." "Annie," said young Seamwell after the marriage, "I fell in love with you when you were a child, and came to our shop for your first sewing. I also happened to be passing when you gave part of your first earnings to Jessie Wilson. I was a boy then, but I said to myself: 'If I were a man, I'd marry Annie Linton; not because she's so pretty'-here Annie blushed most becomingly-' not because she's so industrious, but because she's so kind-hearted.'" NOTHING can be very ill with us when all is well within: we are not hurt till our souls are hurt. If the soul itself be out of tune, outward things will do us no more good than a fair shoe to a gouty foot.Sibs. Had clad the earth,) now Boreas' blast down blew; And small fowls flocking, in their songs did rue CHRISTMAS TIDE, BY SHAKSPEARE. SOME say that ever 'gainst that season comes, Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time. THE SHEPHERDS' SONG. BY EDMUND BOLTON. The Winter's wrath, wherewith each thing, SWEET Music, sweeter far defaced, In woeful wise bewail'd the Summer past: Hawthorn had lost his motley livery, The naked twigs were shivering all for cold, And, dropping down the tears abundantly, Each thing, methought, with weeping eye me told The cruel season, bidding me withhold Myself within. WINTER, BY SPENSER. NEXT came the chill December: Yet he, through merry feasting which he made And great bonfires, did not the cold remember; His Saviour's birth his mind so much did glad: Upon a shaggy bearded goat he rodeThe same wherewith Dan Jove in tender years, They say, was nourish'd by the Ioan maid; And in his hand a broad deep bowl be bears, Of which he freely drinks a health to all his peers. Lastly, came Winter clothed all in frieze, Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill; While on his hoary beard his breath did freeze, And the dull drops, that from his purpled bill, As from a limbeck, did adown distill: In his right hand a tipped staff he held, With which his feeble steps he stayed still; For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld, That scarce his loosed limbs he able was to wield. VOL. V.-41 Than any song is sweet Sweet Music, heavenly rare, Mine ears, O peers, doth greet. You gentle flocks-whose fleeces, pearl'd with dew, Resemble Heaven, whom golden drops make bright Listen, O listen, now; O not to you Our pipes make sport to shorten weary night; But voices most divine Make blissful harmony- For what else clears the sky? Lo, how the firmament Angels they are, as also shepherds, he |