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Savannah daily herald. (Savannah, Ga.) 1865-1866, March 12, 1865, Image 1

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SAVANNAH DAILY HERALD. fOUME 1.l TS O. t>-J. » |bc |absmwfc rtnaJSOET* ?v£R Y EVENING, SUNDAYS EXCEPTED, . kt W. MASON & CO., 111 Bay Strkkt, Satoinau. Gtcotigia. TKEMBS _ /v wv Ftve Cent?. for Year w. AIiVBKTISISfI: \ limited number of Advertisers ?ete will be re f ,red at the rate of Twenty Cents per Line for iA insertion. and Fifteen Cents per Line for each MhseeV.en insertion ; invariably in advance. Ad vertisements should be handed ia Ixiiore noon of wch day. N .j O B PRINTING ia every style, neatly and promptly done. SIOU A DftY JOKEK WAS JOKED, At the name of Cale Meeks, what rem iniscences pa«s before our mental vision. Old recollection? come crowding upon us. and we see au array of the “sold” :! ass before our mind's eye, in the shape of seekers after the mythical Frank Mc- Laughlin, the victim of Croton oil and jalap, for the administration of which no medical reason existed, and a long line of those who have been humbugged generally without any species of sell. Cale was the prince of dry jokers ; he lived, moved and had his being through a diurnal succession of sells; indeed, his life was one great sell, composed of a conglomeration of the infinitestimal sells of titty years’ duration. Now Bixby, Nathan Bixby, was one of Cale’s truest and staunchest business acquaintances, although he had never been introduced into the domestic circle, and made glad by the portly presence of Mrs. Cale, who was somewhat addicted to jealousy. The reason for this lack of acquaintance was that she lived a seclud ed life iu one of the little villages on Long Island, and Nat Bixby lived in our Babel of New York. Well, one clay Usle was hard pushed for an object upon which to inflict a practical joke, and in his dilemma selected his friend Nat as his victim. \ The manner in which Nat was sold, I I uo not choose particularly to describe. Suffice it to say, that under the play of (Ale's exuberant fancy, Nat made a journey to Albany, insisting that a lady there had sent him an amatory epistle which he produced. The lady became indignant, called in the aid of her hus band, who literally skinned Mr. Bixby, who thereafter returned to Gotham with a very adult flea in his auricular appa ratus. The event happened in the early spring time, and on a beautiful day. About a sveek after Nat’s return from Albany, he met Cale at Siierwoocf’s. The sell was disclosed by Cale, and a hearty laugh was had over Nat's mistake, and his still hmised features, in which he joined ; but those present noticed the fact that he didn't laugh au inch below his chin, in deed, it was generally*believed that Nat's mirth was entirely simulated. “Now, old fellow,” said Cale, “you don’t hold any malice, do you ?” “Not a bit,” answered Nat, “and in to ken of amity, let us take smiles all Around.” Which-they did in the usual manner. “How did you come to town ?” asked Nat. “I drove up iu a light wagon,” replied Cale. “And when will you return home ?” “About six o'clock tills evening,” re sponded Cale. Nat thereupon pleaded an engagement left; but a3 soon as he was out of eye-shot of his joker friend, repaired to •Tray s.stable in Warren street, where.lie Wved a fast horse and a light vein tie, with which he started, through a by r, iet, for the residence of his friend ■ale,.on Long Island. On arriving he SAVANNAH, GA., SUNDAY MORNING,. MARCH 12, 1835. left his horse and wagon at a pnb’.ic house, and proceeded on foot to the aforesaid residence, where he inquired of the servant if Mrs. Meeks was at home On being answered, as he knew he would be, in the negative, he said : “This is unfortunate. I want to pay him some money. If I could see Mrs. Weeks, it would do as well; she could give me a receipt in the name of her husband.” Mrs. M. was frugal and industrious, and always attentive to her husband's interests. As the last remark fell from the lips of Nat. a fine looking matron called from up the stairs to the servants to “show the gentleman in to the parlor,” where she followed in a few moments. — Not bowed and said : ‘T desired to see Mrs. Meeks, madam. “Very well, ” said she, “I am Mrs. Meeks.” “Pardon me, madam,” said Nat with a doubting shake of his head ; “but this is a matter of some importance—the payment of money—and you arc not the lady Mr. Meeks intruduced me to last winter as his wife.” “ Not the lady ? What 1” shrieked she, “ Did you mean to tell me that ’ “I simply tell you madame.” replied Nat, with icy impertubability, “that Mr. Meeks last winter in Broadway, near Leonard street, introduced me to a lady he called Mrs. Meeks, aud you are not that lady.” “Indeed !” exclaimed Mrs. Meeks, her eyes flashing fire, “how old was she?” “Well, about twenty-fivel” “ Twenty-five 1 And how was she dressed ?” “She wore her hair in ringlets, and had diamond ear ring" ” “ Diamond ear rings 1” “Silk velvet hat, trimmed with magni ficent lace, and a muff and boa. ’ “Boa,” wrenched out the now thoroughly irate dame : “you had bet tor bore yourself out of this house, sir, mighty quick. No, sir, I am not Mrs. Meeks, and I want you to leave.” “ Oh, certainly,” said Nat, who saw the tallest kind of a squall brewing, and who had some good reason to fear that the sturdy dame might launch at his head a conch-shell or some other of the heavy ornaments which adorned the mantel. Nat therefore beat a retreat from off the premises, and placed him self behind a shine fence, from which he could command a view of the Brooklyn turnpike. He did not wait long before be saw the amiable Caleb driving down the road all unconscious of the ambush of Nat. The expression upon Caleb’s face was one of great amiability, and exemplified that he at was peace with “ all the world and the rest of mankind.” In a brief space 'of time Caleb’s steed was given into the charge of a stable boy, and unconscious and happy, lie en tered his domicil and shut the door.— The moment he entered, an attentive car might have detected the sounds of a voice in no way mellow or expressive of en dearment ; and an instant after Caleb hurriedly came through the door, with j amazement on his front and a mop in bis rear, the wrong end of which was under the direct and personal superinten dence of a lady who w T as very red in the face, and very sturdy in the arms, aud who strongly resembled Mrs. Meeks. The battle had commenced in the pas sage way. Caleb’s castor, which shone in the rays oftho setting sun as 1 e drove down the road, was. now very much bruised and out of shape ; indeed it was driven far down over Calebs amiable physiognomy. “What in thunder’.? out ?” y< lied Caleb. “Twenty-five years old ?” shrieked the infuriated dame, and bang, Caleb caught the mop over his shoulders. “Cork screw ringlets !” and.plunk he got it iu the back with all the strength which nature and anger had given the enraged lady. “D—n it, don't do that.'’ Bwt it was no use, he had to take it. “Diamond earrings pank I “Silk velvet dress 1” bang 1 “Gold bracelets 1” slump. “Murder!’ roared Caleb. “Watch and chain !” she shrieked, and biff! he took it over his head. “Muff!” bang ! slump ! “Boa !” bang ! bang ! and down went Caleb with a yell of "murder!” Now fell the blows thick and fast upon the bruised head, back aud face of the prostrate joker ; while the lady again re hearsed tiie catalogue of wearing apparel and jewels of the other Mrs. Meeks, timing utterance of the name of each article, with a blow upon her prostrate, writhing, bleeding lord. But all things must have an end.— The violent exercise of the arms and lungs, in which Mrs. Meeks had indulg ed, had somewhat exhausted her. Blie had rapidly rim thrice through Nat’s im aginary catalogue, and feeling her strength departing, gathered herself up for one grand final effort. Caleb looked with horror upon the upraised mop ; lie heard the words : “Oh ! the hussy !” shouted in a vigo rous tone ; he heard a hustling, whizzing sound iu the air, and the next instant Caleb’s nose was as flat us the other parts of Caleb’s face. His two tormen tors retreated into the mansion, and left him alone with his gore. Slowly, and with- most keen sensa tions of pain, he raised himself to a sit ting posture, and with many a groan of agony, proceeded to inspect his personal condition. “Id d—cl if my arm ain't broken ! Oh! And this left shoulder must be dis located ! Oh ! oh! And, good Lord ! what a nose ! That woman must be crazy 1 I shan't be able to get about in a month ! Oh, Lord ! how sore I am !” Now, Nat, with the most pleasurable emotions, had, through the crevice of the fence, obseived the whole ot the little family jar, which I have so feebly describecf; and he now stood looking over the fence, at the back of his dear friend. “I say, Uncle Cale!” shouted Nat. “Hey,” said Caleb, as he turned, iu some little astonishment, a look upon his former victim. “I say Calc,’’ continued Nat, “how do you feel about now ?” “Oh, you !” I shall leave if blank—yelled out the enraged Caleb,,as lie sprang to his feet and made for the house—“l’ll fix your flint!” But Nat did not vvaut any flint fixed, and therefore made his way, with all possible celerity, up the road. Soon alter, tip re appeared upon the green sward, rendered sanguinary aud sacred by a con jif al endearment, a lame man who wore a shocking bad hat, and who had taken possession of a fowling piece loaded wkh buckshot. If the tame man meant to shoot Nat, he reck oned without his host. That worthy, thanks to a long :jnd thin pair of legs, was out of gitnshift range. Cale from that lime forth, and until lie filled the gravd which* lie now occu pies so well, escimvcd dry joking, and was always sensitke on the subject of dry mops. Tub Horrors <t Sacking \ City. —No language can de;iet the horrors which succeed a storm, nd the following vivid but faithful pictuij of Badajoz, as it ap peared on the cvjning af.er it had been carried, will ooavy some idea of' the dreadful outrages fiat ensued. The ac count is, we belie'e, from the pen of Sir Charles Napier It was nearly disk, and the few hours While I slept bad hade a frightful change in the condition kid temper of the sol diers. In the miming they were obe dient to their ofliejrs, and preserved the semblance of sulprdinatioi; now they j a slMe of furious intoxication, discipline was forgotten, aud the splen did troops of yesterday had become a tierce aud sanguinary rabble, dead to every touch of human feeling, and filled with every demoniac passion that can , btutalize the man. The town was iu i terrible contusion, ami on every side (lighttill tokens of military license met the eye. One street, as I approached the castle, was almost choked up with broken lurniture : for the house had been gutted from the cellar to the garret, the parti tion torn down and even the beds ripped anti scatttre.l to the winds, in the hope that gold might be found concealed. A convent at the end of the Strada of B*. James was in flames, and I saw more than one wretched nun in the arms ot a drunken soldier. A general officer had one ot the soldier's 'Wives stripped of her petticoat, bv the provost, of which he had got an inkling either by secret information, or by its obtruding itself on his notice from being of red vel vet bordered with a g >ld lac ) six inches deep, evidently the covering of a com munion table. Further on, the confu sion seemed greater ; brandy and w ine casks were rolled out before the stores; some were full, soixe half drunk, but more Slaved in mere wantonness, and the liquor running through kennel.— Many a harrowing scream saluted the ear of a passer-by; rainy a female suppli cation was heard asking in vain for mer cy. llow could it be otherwise, when it ig remembered that twenty thousand hmous and licentious madmen were loose upon an immense population, among which many of the loveliest wo men upon earth might be found. All within that devoted city was at the disposal of au infuriated army, over whom all command, for the time, was lost, aided by an infamous collection of camp followers, who were, if possible, more sanguinary and pitiless even than those who had survived the storm. It is useless to dwell upon a scene from which the heart revolts. Few females in this bcautilul town were saved that night from insult. The noblest and the beggar —the nun, and the wile and daughter of the artisan—youth and age were all in volved in general ruin. None were re spected, and levy consequently escaped. Hie madness of these desperate brigands was variously exhibited. Some fired through doors and others at flic church bells; many at the wretched inhabitants as they fled into the streets lo escape the bayonets of the savages who were demolishing their property within doors; while some wretches as if blood had not flowed in sufficient torrents already; shot Irom llioir windows their own companions as they staggered below. W hat chanc es had the miserable inhabitants of escaping death when more than one officer perished by the bullets of the very men whom a l :w hours be fore he had led lo the assault? ftiT.AKisG Cuoss.—You gain nothing by a harsh word. What if that boy broke the pitcher, or put bis elbow through tho g:a:-s ? Do you mend either by applying harsh epjthets to him ? Does it. make Vim men; careful in future ? Does 'he 1 >vo you bettor ? I(ai k ! he is murmur ing. ' Wimt says the boy ? “I’m glad of it/; 1 don't care how much I break." lie talks thus to be even with his master. I*, is very wrong in him, \vn ku nv ; but it is human nature, and the example has been set before him by you. .Say to the careless boy, “1 am sorry ; you must be more can ful in future,” and vvhat will be his reply '< “It was an ac cident, and 1 will be more careful." He will never break another pitchercr glass if he can help it, and lie will respect and love you a thousand times more than when youilew in a rage and swore ven geance on his head. Remember this, ye who get angry and rare at a trifle. i ICE iFlva Cents#