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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.