Savannah daily herald. (Savannah, Ga.) 1865-1866, March 22, 1865, Image 1

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Savannah daily herald., March 22, 1865, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextSAVANNAH DAILY HERALD. VOL. I—NO. 52. The Savannah Daily Herald (MOKNIiv<#AND EVENING) 18 PUBLISHED BY (4. w. Mahon & co., At 111 Bay Street, Savannah, Georgia, terms: Per Copy Five Cents. Per Hundred $3 50. Per Year $lO 00, advertising: Two Dollars per Square of Ten Lines for first in sertion ; One Dollar l'or each subsequent one. Ad vertisements inserted in the morning, will, if desired, appear in the evening without extra charge. JOB PRINTING every style, neatly and promptly done. PROM WASHINGTON. [Correspondence of the Boston Journal.) Washington, March 11. The Senate has closed its special session, and by next Monday night there will not be a half dozen M. C.’s remaining in the me tropolis. Some attempts were made to ob tain “rotation” in Custom Houses and Post Offices, but Mr. Lincoln wisely determined that it would be physically impossible for him to go through such a campaign with place-hunters as he did four years ago. Now, more than ever, the President should take especial care of his own health (for reasons which must be apparent to every one), and he has enough to do in carrying on the war without weighing the respective claims of rival candidates for civil offices. So our congressional friends have gone'home, or on some pleasant party, to recuperate after their winter’s work, , Our “bowld sojer boys” of the Hibernian persuasion will celebrate St. Patrick's day with an army horse race, although they gen erally contrive to kill one or two riders Next Friday there is to be an unusually famous demonstration in the Army of the Potomac, under the especial direction of Col. Robert Nugent of the New York 69th, assisted by other officers, among them Lieut. Col. Flem ing of the gallant. Massachusetts 28th, and Col. Craft of the New Hampshire sth. There arc to be horse races with officer riders,.mule races with darkie riders, hurdle races with officer riders, fooF races between enlisted men of the Irish Brigade, sack races and other races, the Celtic race being prominent and potent punch plentiful. It will be a tamous occasion, and well worth going to see. Mrs. Lincoln held a “drawing-room” this afternoon, which was w r ell attended by the local fashionables, those who have been so journing here during the season now closed haviug migrated to Philadelphia and New York, there to remain until they can figure at watering places. This atternoon Miss J— of Boston, was the only belle from abroad in the East Room, but almost every bureau of the departments was represented by the daugHter or sister of some official, and gaily dressed members of the Contract, Petrolia and Shoddy families flourished of coutse.— The demoiselles learned with regret that Captain Lincoln had returned to the army, but consoled themselves with the attentions of some young officers in gorgeous uniforms who are of the Home Brigade, and never “charge,” except it be the contingent expen ses of the bureaux in which they tie and un tie red-tape. Mrs. Lincoln looked well, and was—as she always is—well-dressed, while the President came in looking overjoyed that Congress had finally gone away. Immediately after the reception of a tele gram from Gov. Andrew, declining to ac cept the U. S. District Judgeship, the Massa chusetts Senators recommended John Lowell, Esq,, who was appointed and unanimously confirmed, without any reference to the Ju diciary Committee. Mr. Woodman has brought on a number of recommendations in favor of Mr. Dodge for the Judgeship, but they came too late. Judge Sprague s letter of resignation was written and signed by his son, v who accompanied it wdth a statement that the Judge was unable even to sign his name. General Burnside returned home this after noon. General Hooker was to-day before the Committee on the Conduct of the War. Admiral Porter and those officers who were up the Red River with him are not over well pleased with Chief Justice Chase’s decision, depriving them of prize money for the cot ton captured. SAYINGS OF JOSH BIDDINGS. BIG GENIUS. A big genius is generally a phool, he knows how to dew one or two things so mutch, that he aint fit for enny thing else; he iz like a grahound, good for running fast, that’s all. Yu kant learn him nothing enny more than you kan an eagle, he knows how to fli up, and look at the sun, without wink ing, bekauze he waz born so, and when he gits up on the peak ov the mountain, and gits well lit, yu kant git to him nor he wont cum tew yu, but thare he set£, till the dinner-bell rings. After dinner he flize oph agin, and yu wont see him till supper time.,* They are like mummys, verry euris critterl, and keep for a long time, without spileing. If tha onla had common sense, so that yu kould make taylers, or Shumakers ov them, thare would be sum use ov having the breed more plenty, but one, or two, iz aul that iz profit able tew hav on hand tew onst, and they are enuff tew keep enny boddy uneazy about what they are going tew dew next. They liv about to ycarp abed ov the times, and when the world ketches up with the last one, another is born, who spends moste ov his time, in digging up the old bones that the last one buried. About the onla thing they sho enny common sense in iz, that they moste alwus die in det tew evry boddy* The most unfortunate thing about having a big geniiis ou hand, iz, that so meuny try to imitate them, but they doul, generally git enny further up than their vices, and thus one big genius suckles a thousand phools. They dou’t generally liv happy, bekause they aint hilt right tew tit things as they find them. They ought tew hav a grate place tew stop in, wliare thare aint nothing but big generalitys tew do, and whare they -kan play tost and ketch, with the stars, and krack butternuts with moun tains. They are curious kritters! They aint afraiij tew straddle a hurrykane without enny bridle ou, and stick in the spurs, but a mice nibbling in the wanescutt, will drive them, bareheaded, into the streets. They kan plant, but they wont SAVANNAH, GA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 22, 1865. kultivate, nor reap. If i waz a woman i would az soon marry a porcupine, az a big genius, they are either az hot az the stove in a distrik skool house, or az cold, and unfeel ing, az the shpes on a ded omnibuss ho.-s. A big genius, iz like a big comet, they ap pear ouse in a while about so often, ’ and make evry boddy nervous, aud theu disap pear, and’tho we may not, at the time be able tew put our fingers ou the individual good they hav dun us, still their visit iz a big oue, and the great reservoys are pumped up fuller, and we poor devils, the rest ov us, when we stick our straws into our little fountains find that the waters hav bin sweet ened and freshened hi somboddy. —Troy Neivs. THE BITERS BIT. BY THE OLD ’UN. Some time ago a story went the rounds touching a man, who, having presented him self in his shirt-sleeves at the American Mu seum, New York, received the loan of a coat, and after viewing the curiosities sloped with the garment, obtaining a sight at the ele phant and a splendid swallow'-tail for twen ty-five cents. This reminds us of an affair that occurred in 1840, on board the old Co lumbus, when she lay at Charlestown Navy Yard. One day, a long, green Vermonter straggled on board the frigate, and examined everything on deck with curious eyes. The officer of the watch, for his bearing and neat ness of uniform, attracted the Yankee’s notice. “Got a pretty good place here, hey?” he inquired. The officer assented. “What wages do you get ?” “One hundred and twenty-five dollars a month.” “One hundred and twenty-five dollars! All tew yourself! Shoh ?” “Fact, sir.” “Wall, I wonder if I couldn’t get some thing to do here, myself?” “O, yes; you’d make a pretty good mid shipman.” “Wall, what are midshipman's wages fora green hand?" “Forty dollars a month, only.” “Only forty dollars ! Jerusalem ! Why, I wfts told to hire out for teu. But where can I be made a midshipman on?—say quick?” “Down below, sir, in the steerage. As soon as I’m relieved I’ll see to it.” Down went the quizzer and the quizz c! A bevy of young midshipmen requited no prompting to perpetrate a piece of mischief. A spurious warrant was soon made out, and the greenhorn equipped iu a splendid uni form, including an elegant chapeau and cost ly sword, by a joint contribution of toe mess, thus furnished, he was directed to present himself to Commodore S., in the cabin, and report ready for duty. He was told that tut Commodore might be pretty gruff—“it was a way he had”—but not to mind it. Tne steerage being full, the new midshipman wa-> "to demand quarters in the commodore’s cab in, in fact, he was ordered to take possession of a certain state-room. The commodore s black looks and angry words were to be re garded as nothing—he had no right to use either. Thus “posted up,” the victim pre sented himself to the commodore with: “Old boss, how are you ?” S. started; he had come across a rara avis. “Take a seat, sir.” “I kin help myself, old feller—l generally do,” was the reply of the Vermonter, as he swung himself into one seat and crossed his leg upon another. “You aie one of the new midshipmen, I suppose ?” remarked the commodore, who, from the first, suspected something. “I aint nothin’ else ” “Shall I trouble you for your warrant ?” “Catch hold, old boy.” The commodore looked at the document, and then at his visitor. “Who gave you this ?” “The fellars down stairs—and I’m ready for duty.” “That’s enough. Now you can go.’’ “Not as you know on, squire. The cellar’s quite full—and I aint a goin’ out of this ’ere iu a hurry, I tell 370 U. O, you needn’t rare up, old. feller. I see what’s the matter, you're a leetle cracked up here !” Aud the brilliant youth touched his forehead with his fore finger‘T’m goingiato this ’ere chamber to take a right good snooze—boots aud all, by gra vy!” As he was proceeding to execute this men ace, the commodore took him by the arm aud led him Into the gangway. Fointiug to the sentinel, he remarked, mildly •. “You see that man with a musket; now, if you don’t clear out directly, aud leave the ship and yard never to show your face here again, I’ll order him to shoot you !” The Yankee broke, aud in two seconds his blue coat-tail was seen floating in his rear, as he dashed out of the yard with the speed of a flying jackass. Iu a minute afterwards, half a dozen terri tied midshipmen rushed on deck aud asked for liberty to go ashore. “Young gentlemen,” said the commodore, “I grant no liberty to-day.” Six faces fell a “feet.” and six young jo kers returned to their mess-room as melan choly as mates at an alderman’s lufieral. — They never saw or heard anything of the Yankee afterward—nor the uniform either. The Panic at Charleston. —“ Carleton” describeth two scenes in she history of the rebellion, with reflections Friday and Saturday were terrible days in Charleston. Carts, carriages, horses, mules, hand-barrows—all were brought into use.— The railroad trains iverc crowded. Men, wo men, and children fled, terror-stricken, weep - weeping, broken-hearted, humbled in spirit, from their homes. How different from the 12th ot April, 18(>1, when they stood upon the esplanade of the battery, sat upon the house-tops, clustered on the steeples, look ing seaward, shouting and waving their handkerchiefs as the black clouds of smoke and forked flames rolled up from Sumter! But time works great changes. Pride goetk before a fall. “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.” “God don’t pay at the end of every week, but he pays at last, my lord Cardinal,” said Anne of Austria. John Brown s daughter is now keeping a school for negro children in the old mansion of Henry A. Wise, in Virginia. ODD NAMES. Many of our readers doubtless have heard how a Mr. Ashe had a son of his christened Caleb, and how the school-boys perverted the youngster’s name into “Calabash,” by which cognomen ho he was known even af ter he had grown to manhood. Also, a Mr. Rose, romantically inclined, who called his daughter Wild. When she became a young woman her name was ad mired by all the young folks. But alas ! she married a man of the name of Bull, aud was changed from a “Wild Rose” into a ‘,Wikl Bull.” Again. A Mr. Frogge, desiring two given names tor his son and heir, decided on’call ing him alter an old friend of his. The re sult was that before the ridiculous blunder was discovered, the boy was christiened James Bull Frogge, which the companions of the boy finally curtailed into Bullfrog. I have an intimate friend who rejoices—no he suffers—under tbe singular name of Abra ham Street Sleeper. Dropping the first name and using the iniiial only, he becomes A. Street Sleeper. Should ho get disgusted with either of his names aud resort altogeth er to initials, he would write himself an A. S. S. He had once thought of having his name entirely changed, but finally resolved to retain it.ail hazards. He was as fond of a joke as any man liv ing, and never missed an opportunity when ever or wherever it presented itself. This new field—namely, odd names of men and women—w r as calculated to be varied and highly amusing. Passing along the street one day Abe saw a tailor's sign, which read thus ‘John Fell, tailor, the word ‘tailor’ being beneath and quite pale. Going in he saw a woman alone, attending the shop; he asked— ‘Did John hurt himself ?" The woman became excited. Her hus band, who bore tbe old name, bad gone to a fire an hour ago, and she, of course, thought by Abe’s question that he (John) had met with some mishap. She asked our joker where her husband was and how he had come to hurt himself. ‘Madame,’ said Sleeper, solemnly, ‘I know nothing of your husband ; never saw him to my knowledge. 1 noticed ou a sign at the door, that John Fell, so humanely called on you to ascertain the extent of his injuries.’ Os course, when. Abe pointed to the sign and explained, Mrs. Fell saw the joke. They parted with great indignation on her part, and a deal of merriment of his. Seeiug one day on the door-plate the name of J. C'. Jones, he could scarcely resist the desire to ring the bell and inform the inmates of the dwelling that he also saw Jones. The next name that attracted him was that of a dancing master called Melon Colly Ts I were iu his place,’ thought our hcio, ‘I would change either my name or profession. He ought to be an undertaker, or a sexton, but a dancing master can scarcely be inclin ed to melancholy.’ Abe knew a large, fat man, who rejoiced in thetitle of Isaac Matthew Liv ingood. But the gentleman usually wrote tc “P M? Liv ingood.” He handed a card to our joker, oue day, wdth the above name on it. Abe read it, and then remarked— “ One would think that you were living :_ood, judging by your appearance.’ A sign reading ‘Adam Good, shoemaker, ’ came under his observation soon after. By rasing the first letter in ‘Adam’ and making a iai'LO A immediately above it, on the sign, be cause it to read “A dam Good shoe maker.” Next morning he called outlie man, and ordered him to measure him for a pair of sloes, remarking at the time— “li you really are all that your sign says, I thiLiv I could scarcely find a more suitable man for my purpose. But Id advise you to; be .ess prolane, for you might lose many : goodch nces from pious folks, who would j object to patronizing you ou tha! account.” Abraham pointed to the’ sign, and roared as he saw the consternation of Mr. uood, who suspected the joker to be the culprit. Tbe last words that saluted the joker’s ears as no left the shop, were, “A dam good lick ing .” Another time he read a sign, having on it “B. VYare” Rushing into the store anxiously asked the proprietor— “ Beware of what ?” “Ofa chastisement!” exclaimed Mr. Ware, seizing a yardstick, and making toward our hero, who made a hasty exit. The man had had that joke played on him before. He saw a sign once, wfilch read “M. T 5 Head, attorney at law,” and observed to a friend who was with him, that “the gentle man was not the only lawyer in the city who could boast of an empty head !” Abraham’s uncle was named Horne. He had a son bom, and gave our hero the privi lege of namiug him. Now Abe knew that this same uncle bad chosen the abominable name of Abraham Street for him, so he vowed to pay him off, by selecting a ridiculous name for his infant son. The child was according ly christened Abraham Greene Horne, which was eventually abbreviated into A. Green horce.” “I rather think,'’ remarked our hero, after watds, “that A. Street Sleeper sounds as nice as A. Green Horne.” A family named Goodman christened a son after the surname of a -wealthy bachelor uncle, who was called Solomon Avery, in hopes of having him become the legatee of that relative. Mr. Avery heard of it, and wrote the fol lowing letter to the father: “You have called a son of yours after my surname, which gave him a right to style himself Avery Goodman. But fearing he might grow up a bad man, despite his name, I decline, most respectfully, to make him my heir. “Solomon Avkkv.” When our joker heard of this, he remark ed— “l call that man a very Solomon, to make so wise a decision.” Once seeing pasted on a wall the name of “B. A. Goodfellow, for alderman,” he re* marked— “ That’s just the fellow we all ought to vote for, there are so very few good ones in office.” Entering a cigar store once, Abe remarked to the tobacconist that he ought to be a min ister. “Why so ?” “Because you are good enough,' was the reply. I The man's sign read “U. R. Goodenough.” For this puu our hero was presented by the proprietor with half-a-dozen of the best cigars the house afforded, and Abe went on his way rejoicing. However, his jokes did not alw T ays ter minate so happily. He stepped into the store of a Mr. Dampman, asked one of his clerks to weigh him a pound of tea. “We dont sell groceries,” was the re mark. “What then ?” asked Abe, with a simple stare. “Dry-goods,” was the curt reply. “What!” exclaimed Abe, affecting aston ishment, “a Dampman professing to sell dry -goods!" • “Young man,” said the proprietor, seizing him by the arm and pushing him toward'the door, “you had best leave, right off, or 1 may turn you into a piece of damp goods by tossing you into the gutter!” Abe needed no second bidding, but speed ily lengthened the distance between the irate Dampman and lfims If. He entered a pawnbroker’s shop one eve niug, and offered a ten-dollar watch in pawn, and asked twelve on it. The broker exam ined it, and offered two and a half. “Your sign made me drop in,” remarked Abe, “and I expected to make a fine thing out of you because you are E. Z. Jacobs. But I fiud you are a confounded hard Ja cobs—nothing easy about you!” As our joker stepped out he heard the man muttering a word that would rhyme with “lamb;” the broker, being evidently angry, had grown profane Abell ai .i-a. friend wno niuiTiofr a man named Nathan Elwood Husband. He once remarked to her— “l should judge, Mrs. Husband, that you weie not very hard to please in selecting a p artner for life.'’ “What makes you think so?” asked she, half angry. “Because you were satisfied with N. E. Husband,” replied Abe. But the lady re quired a full explanation before she would be pacified. He once incurred the displeasure of a friend ot his by remarking— “Mr Ball, I am surprised to learn that, in spite of your well known strong know-noth ing proclivities, you have married au “Em ma Grant!” Mr. Abraham S. Sleeper came near being knocked down, one day, by a man on whom he called, saying— “l ve heai'd tuat a celebrated oculist has just arrived in town, and Id advise you to call on him; he may possibly render you es sen.iai service, if not effectually cure you of your unpleasant infirmity.” “There’s nothing the matter with my eyes,’ said the man, astonished. “Then take down your sign,” said Abe, “for, I am sure, by it you acknowledge being cross-eyed.” The sign read, “I. S. Quint.” By a timely duck of the head our hero es capes being knocked into the gutter. Only a week ago he advised a lady friend not to walk aJtmg the streets during the day, if she would avoid being annoyed. “Why, what have I to fear?” asked she. “Because,” replied Abe with a grin, “you know the city authorities have of late shame fully neglected their duties, which has re sulted in the accumulation of piles of ashes in the streets. And should the tolks see you promenading along, they would beset you with all tnauner of vessels filled with ashes, expecting you to take them away.” “What on earth do you mean ?” asked the lady, in sapreme astonishment. “Because you arc Ann Ashman,” was the reply. At another time he electrified a tailor, named. Owen, by remarking— “ Why are you never out Yf debt ?” “Mr Sleep, r t plied th- lailor “what do vou mean ? i do u- •» ■ ot-nm.' "* ’t you are u a, ... uuiqi, r.mark ed Abe, w tii a l ugh. ~ Again, he said to a person he presumed ue never would reach a ripe old age; ou being asked why he thought so, he replied— “ Because you will always be a Greenman.’ A man was once committed to prison for shamefully beating another. Abe remarked that this was the first instance he ever knew of a person imprisoned for beating A. Drumm. The last joke he uttered was a pun on his own name. He was on his deathbed, when he called to a friend aud said— “l am not an Irishman, but promise me to observe the custom of that country after I am no more : have a jolly wake over ray body.” “Why do you make such a strange re quest V asked all who heard him. “Because it is the most natural thing in the world to wake A. Sleeper,” was his re ply- Business in Boston. —There are' always croakers who prefer to look upon the dark side of every subject. To hear some persons talk,one would imagine that btfsiness was at a complete stand still, which is far from tiie truth. Dealers in groceries, dry goods, boots and shoes, and provisious, both whole sale and retail, are prosecuting a lively trade. Consumers are clear-sighted, and take advan tage of the present decline iu values, wlftch is likely to be followed by a corresponding inflation. Some kinds of manufactured goods are actually selling to-day at prices less than the cost of manufacture, and the strongest inducements are held dm to pur chasers in every department of merchandise. —Boston Journal, 14 th. Crop Statistics. —A crop circular from the Department of Aar nlnr '■ !•“ gives the following comparative sunc-nfe-ii <v lue Ci ' ' 554 - As.oulllu; C.ops. 16*3. 1604. Increase. Decrease Indian Cora, bu....597,wa5,213 530,a:.1,403 132,613,191 Wheat , AT5,671,926 160,693,8.23 IJ, M 3,105 Rye 19,969,335 19,872,975 116,860 Oats.. 170,139,864 175,990,194 6,860,030 Bariev 12,158.695 10,716.328 1.442,567 Buckwheat 15,766.122 18,71|p,540 3,914,418 Potatoes 98,965,196 96,532,039 2,433,169 ToUl bushels 888,546,554 1,012,959,292 141,386,939 16,974,201 Tobacco, lbs «...163,341,062 197,460,229 34,107,147 Hay, tone 18,346,720 18,116,691 230,039 The value of the crops iu 1863 was $955,- 764 322; id 1864, $1,504,543,690, an men ace oi $548,779,368. The iucreat*; iu gol.l value was 54 per cent. PRICE, 5 CENTS Content Amidst Difficulty. —The pre tended resignation of the South under their recent reverses is thus capitally' taken off by Orpheus C. Kerr in the New York Leader.— The Conservative Kentucky chap brings upon the scene Capt. Munchausen, who is met by Captain Bob Shorty : Right behind him [the Conservative Ken tucky Chap] came a remarkable being attir ed in fragments of grey cloth and prodigious thick set of whiskers, through the latter of w T hich his eyes glared yellowly, like the bot tles in an apothecary’s shop down the street. As he approached nearer, he hastily put on a pair of partially-dissected white cotton gloves, and casually re-arranged the strip of carpet-binding which served him as a full dress cravat. “Yours, truly,” said Captain Bob Shorty. “Vandal!” hissed Captain Munchausen, removing from his brow an unexampled con glomeration of rags in the last stages of cap, and handing it to a faithful contraband who attended him. “Why, then,” said Captain Bob Shorty, doffing his own cap, aud tucking up his own sleeves, “in the name of the United States of America, I propose to move upon your works immediately. ” And now, my boy, do I particularly la ment my lack of those unspeakable intel lectual gifts, which enable the more r fined reporters of all our excellent moral daily journals to describe the achievements of the noted Arkansas Mule and celebrared Jersey Ban turn in a manner that delights every well-conducted breakfast-table in'": «. land', and furnishes equisit- reading for pri - vate tannins. Forward hopped G«Mam 3v ; - >tr . m though on springs; his elbows neauy squared, his fists held up like a couple of apples on sticks, and his head poised as thougn it had just started to look round a conn r. With fists to match, and eyes shining like the bot toms of glass bottles, the wary Munchausen sculled carefully hack from him iu a half cir cle. Now they make skins toward each other; and now rhey skip back. Anon an arm is raised, and is parried; and then they balance to partners; andtnen they hop back. I was gazing at all this, my boy. in speech less admiration, when suddenly I saw the dexter hand of Captain Bob Shorty pierce the enemy’s lines, and explode with tremendoqs force on Munchausen's nose. For a moment there was a sound as of Confederate blas phemy ; but in a moment the chivalric Mun chausen was himself again. “Ah ! ’ said Captain Bob Shorty, agreeably, “did you see the star-spangled banner that time ?" “Sir," said Munchausen, with tears in his eyes, “I am thankful tnat my n ise is hroken. It is a blessing ; for I had nothing to smell with it, and only wasted my strength in its special defence.” Here Captain Bob Shorty looked jovially at me, my boy, and says he : “By all that’s Federal ! ain t he jolly ?” “Come on to thy ruin !” roared Munchau sen fromwbehind his rapidly increasing nose ; and again the battle raged. Now did Captain Bob shorty sidle to the left, with a view to flanking ; but two col umns of the enemy met him here. Next the agile Munchausen attempts, by a quick turu, to take him in the rear of his po-ition but finds a strong body of five divisions hurled upon his headquarters with an im petuosity that knocks out half his t.-eth. “Art satisfied, Horatio?” said Captain Bob Shorty, with more or less Bowery Theatre in his manner. An awful smile appeared upon what .were left of the features of Captain Munchausen. It was so full of scorn, you know. “Sir,” said he, with much chivalry of bear ing, and some difficulty of utterance, “my jaw may be broken, but I thank fate for it. It s a long time since I had anything to eat with mv mouth, and to defend it at all w “H i' ha ha !’ roared Captain Bob 61 ottv; i real] never did see anything so jolly ’■'hulfria ’ \oiled Munchausen, “y ur de-tmctioii is decid-d !” Then were all the skips and hops repeated, my boy : with such ornamental bits of oc casional flue art as the refined reporters of our excellent moral daily journals love to dwell fondly upon. Were I but such a re porter, I would describe the scene in a way to make you take it home to your children. But let me not waste lime in lamentation; for just then, a something heavy fell upon the right eye of Captain Munchausen, and effectually closed it for the week. “Ah !” said Captain Bob Shorty, pleasant ly, “did you count the stars upon our Flag that time, my gray back?” “Sir,” retorted Munchausen, staggering about, and wildly pulling handfuls of imper ceptible liair out of invisible heads in the air—“l consider the loss of that eye a bless ing in disguise ; for I can now concentrate my whole strength on the other. ” “Well now, really,” said Captain Bob Shorty—'‘really, you know, I never see any thing half so jolly.” “Extermination is now your doom!” howied the Confederacy, reeling deliberately forward upon the first fist he met, and tailing heavily to the ground with his other eye em phatically darkened. Instantly was Captain Bob Shorty at his side, exclaiming: “I'm sorry for this, old chap. I wish you'd only consented to stop before—eu ?” ejaculated Captain Bob Shorty —“what’s that you say?” As true as I live ana breathe, my boy—as true as I live and breathe—when Captain Bob Shoriy put his ear to the mouth of the fallen Confederacy, he heard, slowly spoken these remarkable words: “I'm glad this —has—happened be ' cause—l—can—now— lav * lope rro v ■ - OrIUSH erties of glass, stales tu... , mg glasses are made of sufficient sir.-ngw. be drawn about a floor; a bullet may be dropped iuto one without fracture of the glass ; even the stroke of a mallet sufficient ly neavy to drive a nail has failed to break such glasses. In a word, ordinary blows tail to produce an impression upon articles of tiiis kind If, however, a piece of fl n, cor nelian, diamou. 1 , . r oth r 1: ran 11 into one of tne- 1 c i afe ii in- • i. • . , f myriad of pieces.