rm in the war.

Such are the principal facts collected in this remarkable and timely
publication. It is needless to say that we commend it to the careful
perusal of all who desire conclusive information on a most important
subject. It is evident that we are going through nearly the same stages
of timidity, ignorance, and blind conservatism which were passed by our
forefathers, and shall come, if not too late, upon the same results. It
is historically true that Washington apparently had in the beginning
these scruples, but was among the first to lay them aside, and that
experience taught him and many others the folly of scrupling to employ
in regular warfare and in a regular way men who would otherwise aid the
enemy. These are undeniable facts, well worth something more than mere
reflection, and we accordingly commend the work in which they are set
forth, with all our heart, to the reader.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: Historical Notes on the Employment of Negroes in the
American Army of the Revolution. By George H. Moore. New-York: Charles
T. Evans, 532 Broadway. Price, ten cents.]

A MERCHANT'S STORY.

'All of which I saw, and part of which I was.'

CHAPTER II.

The clock of St. Paul's was sounding eight. Buttoning my outside coat
closely about me--for it was a cold, stormy night in November--I
descended the steps of the Astor House to visit, in the upper part of
the city, the blue-eyed young woman who is looking over my shoulder
while I write this--it was nearly twenty years ago, reader, but she is
young yet!

As I closed the outer door, a small voice at my elbow, in a tone broken
by sobs, said:

'Sir--will you--please, sir--will you buy some ballads?'

'Ballads! a little fellow like you selling ballads at this time of
night?'

'Yes, sir! I haven't sold only three all day, sir; do, please sir, _do_
buy some!' and as he stood under the one gas-burner which lit the
hotel-porch, I saw that his eyes were red with weeping.

'Come inside, my little man; don't stand here in the cold. Who sends you
out on such a night as this to sell ballads?'

'Nobody, sir; but mother is sick, and I _have_ to sell 'em! She's had
nothing to eat all day, sir. Oh! do buy some--_do_ buy some, sir!'

'I will, my good boy; but tell me, have you no father?'

'No, sir, I never had any--and mother is sick, _very_ sick, sir; and
she's nobody to do any thing for her but _me_--nobody but _me_, sir!'
and he cried as if his very