Newspaper Page Text
SAVANNAH DAILY HERALD.
yOLUME I.\
o. J
|*e |jabatmal} Sailg^craUJ
IS PDRLMHgD
EVERY EVENING, SUNDAYS EXCEPTED,
n
a W. MASON «fe CO.
At 111 Bat Street, Savannah, Georgia,
terms:
Per Copy Five Cents.
Per Hundred $R »0.
Per Year $lO 00.
JOB PRINTING
tn every style, neatly and promptly done.
[Prom the Sunday Mercury.l
THE GHOST ULTIMATUM.
BY OKPHBOS C. KERR.
. England, merry England ! Land of
our forefathers! Having seen several
stereoscopic pictures of thee —not to
mention various engravings—l love thee!
Yes,l am of a passionate temperament; I
ana tby fond American child.; and I
love thee. Ay, me lud, we all love
thee; and the best ot us cannot pay
the shortest visit to thy shores without
bringing back such a wholesome con
tempt tor everything at home, as none
but American hearts can feel. Having
inherited the money real zed by our
deceased paternal from his celebrated
patent Fish-scales, we put our aged
mother comfortably into the Old Ladies’
Home, and fly to thee, dear, dear mo
ther land, by the most expensive steamer
to be had. Then we assart fi.. wulUhtf*
footmen'oT'tfieff'nobility, and go to see
thy Dukes houses while the Dukes are
absent, and ask the Dukvs’ housekeeper
bow much such a house cost, and come
away stupefied with the atmosphere ot
greatness. We return to America with
mutton-chop whiskers and our hands in
©ur pockets, while our wife wears a
charity-boys’ cap on her head and car
lies a saddle whip forever in her left
band. We haven’t seen the fashion
plates in the Loudon shop windows for
nothing. We find New York rather
small. There's no Tower, ye know, nor
Abbey, nor Pell Mell, my dear boy.—
What s Pell Melt•?• O, I suppose youd
call it Pall Mall ; ha, ha, ha! quite
provincial, to be sure. Really, this
new Filth Avenue house of ours is not
equal to the Earl of P.’s town house ;
but we can add a private theatre and a
chapel, and make it do for a wniie, eh ?
Day-day, Tomkins, my good fellow,
bow-de-do ? How are your, poor feet?
ba, ha, ha, quite the joke in London so
ciety, Tomkins. Whats new? Yanks
bad another Bull Run ? Every noble
man I met in England is with the South,
my dear boy, and so am I.
O England! If I couid but visit thee
just once—-just a little tiny bit of a
once—but no matter, I iiaven’t Jhe
money; never mind. Honest poverty
in this country will yet—but it’s oi no
consequence.
# Persons with money may have no
ticed, that as you turn from Cbeapside
in Whitefriers, and go on past St. Paul’s
and the Horse Guards into Pell Mell,
keeping straight to the right to avoid
Wateiloo Bridge and the Nelson Mon
ament, you come to an English house.
At the particular period of which I
write, the night of the 24th of Decem
ber was Christmas eve in this house, and
Hr. R Feunart had just devoured a de
viled kidney, some whitebait, a plate of
H ewcaatle| pickled salmon, and some
Warm wme anu toast, as it is believed
cusiotnury for all English gentlemen of
the better class to do beiore going to
bed. Having thus prepared commodi
ous stabling ior a thoroughbred uight
mare, he looked at his hands, looked at
bis watch, looked at the fire-irons, look
ed at his slippers in perspective, and at
©lice fell iuto an English reverie—which
<hdera materially from an American one,
SAVANNAH, GA., TUESDAY MORNING, FEB. 7, 1865.
as everybody knows, being much supe
rior.
“Can it be,” said Mr. R Fennarf to
himself, “that my pride was really sin
ful, when I drove my daughter Alexan
dra from my house, because she would
have wed a potboy ? It must be so; for
I have not seen a happy hour since
then. Here is Christmas-eve, and here
am Ia lone, lone man. O that by the
endurance of some
great—l might bring back my girl, and
ask her forgiveness, and be my old self
again.”
“Thy wish shall be granted !!!”
This last terrible remark came from a
being in white, with a red silk handker
chief tied about the place where he was
murdered.
“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. R. Fennarf,
“have I the pleasure of seeing a ghost ?”
“You have,” said the being.
“Won’t you take a seaj, Mr. G?”
“No,” sighed the spectre, “I haven't
time. I just dropped in to let you know
through what penance you might be en
abled to atone for your unjustifiable arro
gance with your daughter, and recall her
to your side. Your sin £was pride, your
atonement must be humiliation. You
must get yourself Kicked !”
“Kicked!” ejaculated R. Fennarf, in a
great state of excitement; “why, really,
Mr. G., I would bear anything to gam
my desire ; bur that's rather a severe
thing; and besides, I don't know that I
have an enemy in the world to do the
kicking for me—except it is the potboy,
and his legs are too sliqrt.”
Ghost, decidedly, “and I will help you
to the extent of handing you this rod, by
aid of w r hich you can transport yourself
in any, or every, direction, until the
kick is attained.”
As the Ghost spoke, he laid a small
black rod upon the table, aud—was gone.
Mr. li. Fennart fell into a reverie •
where could he go to make sure of a kick ?
He might go out into the street and
tweak the nose of the first brother Eng
lishman he saw; but would that Eng
lishman kick him for it? No! He
would only sue him next .day for dam
ages. No Frenchman would kick a
Britisher; because it is the policy of
France just now to appear immensely
fond of ail that’s British. Nor German.
Nor Spaciaid. “Ah!” exclaimed Mr.
R. Fermarf, joyously, “I have it! The
.very place for me is ‘the formerly-united
Republic of North America.’ They hate
the very name of Englishman there. —
Read the articles in their papers; hear
tne speeches at their meetings. 0! how
they, hate us! So here's a wave of the
in* gic rod, and wishing I may be tran
sported to the presence of some good-
English-hating Yankees. Hey, presto!”
In an instant he found himself being
announced, by a servant in livery, to the
company in the drawing-rooms of Mr.
Putnam Ayres, of Beacon street, Boston
who is quite celebrated for having said
some thousands of times, that England
is the natural enemy of this country.
Sir ; the natural enemy, Sir; and if war
were declared against England to mor
row, I, for one, Sir, would close my
store and shoulder a guii myself Sir.
“Now,” thougpt Mr R. Fennar£ “I
Bhall be kicked, sure enough, and have
it over. ”
He couldn't help shrinking when he
saw Mr. Putuan Ayres approaching him;
but the Bostonian toe of Britain whis
pered hurriedly to Mrs. Putnan Ayres:
“Itsthe English gentleman, my dear; a
real one, and' cousin to a Lord! Tell
everybody to drop their aitches, and not
to say anything in iavor of the war. O,
ah 1 delignteu to see you, my dear Sirin
my umole ’ouse.”
Mr li. Feunari was astonished. He
must actually say something insulting,
or til at kick wouldn't come even here.
“Thankee, my old muff,"said he, in a
voice like a cabmans; “but its a dewc-
ied bore, you know, to answer all the
compliments paid one in this blawsted
country. I'm fond of wimmin, though,
by Geerge!—”
Before he could finish his sentence,
twenty managerial mothers, each drag
ging a marriageable daughter by the
hand, made a desperate rush for him;
but Mrs. Putnan Ayres reached him first
and placed the right hand of a young
lady in his own.
“Take my Harriet, Sir,” she exclaim
ed, enthusiastically, “and be assured
that she will make you a good wife. It
’as always been my ’ope to ’aVe such a
son-in-law.”
Mr. 11. Fennarf felt that his case was
becoming desperate ; his chance of re
gaining hisd aughter farther off than ever.
Fairly crazy to be kicked, he familiarly
chucked Miss Harriet under the chin,
and, assuming a perfectly diabolical ex
pression of countenance, deliberately
tickled her!
“ Haw ! haw! haw !” roared Mr. Put
nan Ayres, bolding his sides with de
light, “ that’s the real English frankness,
my dear son—for such i must already
call you—and no American girl could be
less than 'appy to perceive it.”
In utter despair, Mj\ R. Fennarf in
voluntarily placed a hand upon the
magic rod in his bosom, and wished him
self elsewhere. Quick as thought he
was elsewhere, and entering the sump
tuous private office of the gifted St. Al
bans, editor of the New* York Daily Fife,
whose “ leaders,” on the propriety of an
immediate slaughter of ail Britons
Tenth, have excited much terror
in the bosom of Victoria.
“My dear Sir,” screamed the sturdy
St. Albans, springing to meet his visitor,
“ I am delighted to welcome you to the
United States!”
Mr. R. Fennarf’s heart sank down to
his very boots.
“ You mean what there is left of your
United States,” lie yelled like a very ruf
fian. “ You Yankees never did know
how to speak the English language.”—
And he actually spat upon a tile of the
Daily Fife hanging near him, and sneer
ed pointedly at a lithograph of the editor
over the fireplace.
St. Albans grasped his hand convul
sively.
“Spoken like Carlyle, Sir; spoken
like Carlyle. Your English honesty is
worthy your English heart of oak, my
deal* friend.”
“Sir !” roared R. Fennarl, Iran tic to
be kicked, and backing temptingly to
ward the St. Albans all the time he
talked ; “you and your paper be damn
ed ! What do you know about Carlyle,
bless my soul 1 Who are you smiling at?
What d’ye mean ?”
Here he knocked St. Albans down.
“* ou shall hear from me—step into
that next room—will write to you in
stantly,” panted the editor.
Half.crazed with his continued failures,
the unhappy R. Fennarf walked ab
stractedly into the next room, half-hop
ing his antagonist wanted an opportuni
ty to put on a pair of extra heavy boots.
In two minutes a boy put a note into
his hand.
“My Dear Sir:—Name your own
terms for contributing a daily article to
the Fife. Select your own subjects.
St. Albans.”
The miserable Briton involuntarily
groaned, shook his head hopelessly, and
once more touched the Ghost s rod. He
heard the roll of drums, the scattering
cracks of muskets, and found himself
seated in the tent of that same Major-
General Stew ard who has so nobly said,
on innumerably appropriate occasions,
that he was ready to fulfil his whole duty
in defeating the Southern rebels ; but
could not help wishing, sis a man, that
the enemy were Englishmen rather than
our own brothers. Then he would show
you.’
“I want to take a look at your mili-
tary shopkeepers,’’observe Mr. R. Fern
narf, with great brutality, “and sec
you B.tll lluaners make your B**4
banks—fortifications as you absarilH
call them. You’re Brute Steward,’ I
suppose.”
“Ha ! ha !” laughed the able General
cheerily, “that’s what you English gent'?
call me, I believe. We re going to basa
a battle here to-day, and you
aud see it.”
“A battle !” growled 11. FeanaxC—
“What do you mean by that! I've goA
a]permit from your vulgar railsplitteT u
Washington to go through your
called lines to Richmond, as that's tW
only place where one can find anything
like gentlemen in this blawsted countr J.
I intend to go to-day, 100, so you nr ~ ■
put off your so-called battle.*’
x He’ll certainly kick me afte*
thought Mr. R. Fennarf. begir
feel quite hopeful.
“Put off the battle ?’‘ said
commander, cordially. “11l
pleasure. Sir. ”
The Englishman stared athHa.m nrt
ter despair and lor the clasped
his mystical t od, m.trr . . Buc f ,
England back to r otvm street.. I
give up all hope! ’ /
No sooner sah’ x than, doiae, In &
second he was i,t eho corner of his ms
street, and, wUL the rod in his Laasi
started upon n detracted walk for br
own lonely hens** Not looking
he ran, he went;belter skelter agains.i &
fine, fleshy old English gentleman with*
a plum nosa and a gouty great toe, wlu*
had hobbled out lor a mouthful oi
air. Bang against this fine, fleshy E*wr
iisli gentleman went he, and down cant:
one of his heels on the gouty great (<**.„
There was tremendous mui, as fuirr.
the great bull of Basban; the counten -
ance of the fine, fleshy crM English gen -
tleman became livid, sud, in the dee*
anguish of his soul, he s^ted.the dis
turber of his peace with a fftnuewlftm.-
KICK.
- The black rod vanished in a momratr
from the hand of Mr. R Fennarf, and l\h,
very soul jumped for joy.
“Merry Christmas! ’ he shouted; vfo.
leutly shaking the hand ot the now bit—
wiJdcred old gentleman with the plwfr.
nose.
Then, on he darted toward his hoo-se.
It was lighted up in every window.—
There was music in the house, too, am
dancing. In he flew, with a delightful,
presentiment of what was going on. Bub*:*
enough, his daughter Alexandra ha#
come home with her husband the
boy, and a score of friends, and all Load*
were hard at a cotilion.
“ Father forgive us!” screamed Alex
andra.
“ Y'our pariental blessing,” siiggoatvsci
the postboy with much feeling.,
“ Support them for life,”murmured tkite
friends.
“My children,” said Mr. R.
rubbing his back, “you must forgive
Henceforth we live together, and cele
brate every coming Christmas etre try
meeting all our friends again, as now.—
lam a man from this time forth; lor wi
th is very night I have leared a great a
useful lesson.”
Then all was jollity again, aad tine
potboy, notwithstanding the shoitiMN*;
of his legs, danced like a veritable
Christy minstrel.
Meantime, a certain retired hackney,
coach man in the company, who had at
tentively noted the reconciliation of the.*
father and daughter, called the loia.«t
into a corner of the room, and said
gravely to him:
“ You said you had learned a kasosif
to-night ?” .
“Yea.” N
“What is it?” asked the hackney
man.
“It is,* said Mr. R. Fennaif, niGrt*
solemity, “ that no man need, go out %*,
his own country to be kicked!”
1 PRICE
iFlve Cettt«sv.
