Savannah daily herald. (Savannah, Ga.) 1865-1866, March 31, 1865, Image 1

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    SAVANNAH DAILY HERALD.
VOL. 1-NO. 61.
The Savannah Daily Herald
(MORNING AND EVENING)
18 PC BUSHED BY
. S. NV. MASON <fe CO.,
At 111 Bay Street, Savannah, Georgia,
terms:
For Copy Five Cents.
Per Hundred $3 50.
Per Year $lO 00,
advertising:
Two Dollars per Sqnare of Ten Lines for first in
sertion ; One Dollar for each subsequent one. Ad
vertisements inserted in the morning, will, if desired,
appear in the evening without extra charge.
JOU PRINTING
every style, neatly and promptly done.
MISS PRECIOSA’S PRINCIPLES.
In the most precise of country villages, in
the primmest mansion ever built, dwelt the
most precise maiden ever born, Miss Preciosa
•Lockwood. Even in that serious town,
where laughter was reckoned one of the
smaller sins, and the family in whose dwel
ling lights were seen burning after ten o’clock
•were considered dissipated, there was a cur
rent joke regarding Lockwood Cottage, which
giddy girls had dubbed ‘‘The Nunnery,” and
some even went so far as to call Miss Pre
eiosa the “Lady Superior.”
Certainly convent walls never closed them
selves so grimly against mankind, gentle
and simple, old and youug. What in many
an excellent spinster has been an affection
was genuine with Miss Preciosa.
Long ago, a pretty little cousin, who had
been her confidante and companion, had be
come acquainted with a rascal with a hand
some face and a serpent’s soul, and had elop
ed with him. They heard of her wearing
velvet and diamonds, but no wedding-rinw,
and driving about New Orleans in a°hand
some carriage "wondered at and admired for
her beauty and shunned for her sin. And, at
last, after a long silence about her doings, a
faded thing in rags came creeping along to
Miss Preciosa’s oottage, begging for God's
sake that she would let hei in to die. Miss
P.-eciosa did the reverse of what most women
do She gave a sister’s hand to the poor
victim—nursed her until she died, and buried
her decently and thenceforth shut her spin
ster home to man. Shewasharelv tweuty
severi, and far from plain, but she argued
thus: Something in a stove-pipe hat and
boots has wrought this ill—all who wear
those habillaments must be tabooed.
She kept her resolution. From the poor
house she selected a small servant-maid, not
yet old enough to think of “followers.” As
cook , she kept a hideous old female, too far
advanced in years to remember them. . The
milk was bronght by a German woman. The
butcher’s wife, by request, brought in the
joints. Even a woman cut the grass in the
garden when it was too long, and if man ap
-proaebed the gates, "ancient Deborah the
cook, was sent forth to parly with him and
obstruct his approach.
Having thus made things safe, Miss Pre
ciosa went to New York and brought home
a dead sister s daughter, who had hitherto
been mur ieied in a boarding-school, and the
arrangements were complete.
Miss Lockwood took her niece to church,
also to weekly meetings. They spent after
noons out with widow ladies with no grown
up sons, or with spinsters who reside in sol
itary state.
The elder lady kept an Argus eye upon
her blooming niece, and bold indeed would j
have been the man who dared address her.
For her part, Miss Bella Bloom was an
arch-hypocrite. She had learned that at
hoarding-schoo l ,where ingenuity is exhaust
ed in deceiving the authorities, and doing al
ways exactly what is most forbidden. Bella
Bloom came to Lockwood Cottage perfectly
competent to hoodwink her aunt.
She did it. Preciosa blessed her stars that
her niece was well principled. She hated
men. She wondered how any young lady
could walk and talk and be sociable with or
many them. And when she thought she
lived in a home where they could not in
trude, how thankful she was Aunt Preciosa
could never guess.
And all the while Bella was chafing in
wardly at her restraint, envying girls who
had pleasant flirtations at will, and keep
ing up a private correspondence with a cer
tain “Dear George,” who sent his letters
under cover to the butcher’s wife, who
brought them in with the beef and mutton,
and said, “Bless ye, natur will be natur for
all old maids ; and lwasa gal myself oust
afore Cleaver courted me.”
Dear George was desperate. He could not
live without seeing his Bella. Hejvrote bit
ter things about spinster aunts. He alluded
feelingly to those rendezvous in the back
garden of the seminary, with Miss Clover
landing sentry at the gate on the look-out
for a governess and enemy. The first op
portunity he was coming to Plainaeres, and
intended to see.his Bella or die. Was he not
twenty-three and she seventeen? Were
they to waste their lives at spinster’s bidding?
No.
Miss Preciosa, with her Argus-eyed watch
fulness, sat calmly hour by hour two inches
from the locked drawer of a cabinet which
contained the gentleman’s letters, and dined
horn meats which had been the means of con
veying them across the threshold, inculcating
her principles into the minds of her niece and
handmaiden, the latter of whom grinned be
hind her lady's chair without reserve.—
Charity Pratt, having grown to be sixteen,
also had her secret. It was the apothecary’s
boy who, in his own peculiar fashion, had
expressed admiration at church by staring.
A few days after, Dr. Green, the bachelor
minister, called at the cottage. Deborah
went out to huff and snap, and was subdued
byjtlie big eyes. She came in.
I‘Miss,’’said she, “the clergyman is out
there.”
“W here ?” gasped Preciosa.
“In the gardiug, Miss, wanting you."
“Me ! You said, of course, I was out ?”
‘‘No, Miss. Every body receives their
pastor.”
So the pastor was nshered in. He con
versed of church affairs. Miss Preciosa
answered by polite monosyllables. Bella
smiled and stitched. Deborah sat on a hall
chair on guard. Finally the best specimeh
ol that bad creature, mau, was got out of the
house safely, and the ladies looked at each
other as these might who had been closeted
with a polar bear and escaped unharmed.
‘ ‘He’s gone, aunty,” said the hypocrite.
“Thank goodness !’| said sincere Preciosa.
“I thought I should have fainted. Never let
it happen again, Deborah. Remember I’m
always engaged.”
“But he seems a nice, well-spoken, good
behaved kind of a gentleman,” said Deborah.
“And a clergyman.”
“So he does.” said Preciosa. “But appear
ances arc deceitful. I once knew a clergy
man—” J
“Yes, Miss.”
“A Doctor of Divinity, Bella—”
“Yes, aunt.”
“All! who—who—”
“Well ?"
“Who kissed a young lady of his congre
gation in her father’s garden.”
“Oh!- aunt!”
“He atterward married her. But I never
could visit her or like him.”
“Bless j r ou, no,” said Deborah. “Now
the best thing 3 r ou can do is to have a cup of
strong green tea and something nourishing
to keep your spirits up. Cleaver s wife has
just fetched oysters in.” (Private signal to
Bella.)
“Has she? Oh, Iso love oysters!” cried
Bella, and ran to get dear George’s las!.
It was a brief one, and in it George vowed
to appear at the cottage when they least ex
pected him and demand his betrothed.
That evening, at dusk, Miss Preciosa
walked in the garden alone. She was think
ing ot a pair of romantic big eyes, of a soft
voice, and a softer hand which she had been
surprised into allowing to shake hers.
“It’s a pity men are so wicked!” said she,
and sighed. Although she was near thirty
she looked very pretty as she walked in the
moonlight, forgetting to put on prim airs
and graces, and to stiffen herself-. Her fig
ure was much like her niece Bella’s, so much
so that someone on the other side of the
convent-like wall, with eyes upon a level
with its upper stones, fancied it was that
young lady. Under this belief lie clambered
up, stood at the top, and whispered,
“My dearest, look up, your best beloved
is here ; behold your George!”
And Preciosa, lifting her eyes, beheld a
man on her wali, flung her hands in the air,
and uttered a shriek like that of an enraged
peacock.
The gentleman discovered his mistake, en
deavored to retreat, stumbled and fell head
long among flower pots and boxes, and lay
there quite motionless.
The shriek and the clatter aroused the house
hold: Deborah, Bella, aud Charity Pratt rushed
to the scene, and found a gentleman in a sad
plight, bloody and senseless, and Miss Pre
ciosa half dead with fright.
Bella, recognizing dear George, fainted in
good earnest. Preciosa, encouraged by num
bers, addressed the prostrate youth.
“Get up, young man, and go ; your wick
edness has been sufficiently punished. Please
go.”
“He can’t; he’s dead,” said Deborah.
“Oh, what a sudden judgement! You’re
sure he’s dead ?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Then take him into the house and call the
doctor.”
They laid him on the bed and medical aid
came; the poor fellow had broken a leg.
“He’d get well. Oh yes, but he couldn’
be moved.”
Miss Preciosa eould not murder a fellow
creature,” and she acquiesced.
“He can’t run off' with the spoons until his
leg is better,” said Deborah.
“He isn’t able to elope with any one,"said
Miss Preciosa; “and we should be gentle
with the erring. Who shall we find to nurse
him?”
“Old Todds is competent, Miss,” said De
borah.
“Yes. Do send for that old person,’) said
the lady.
And old Todds came. He of course dwelt
in the house. The doctor came every day.
The apothecary’s boy invaded the hall with
medicines; and finally, when the young man
came to his semes, he desired earnestly to see
his friend, Dr. Green.
“Our clergyman his friend," said Preciosa.
“He must have been misled then; surely his
general conduct must be proper. Perhaps
this is the first time he ever looked over a
wall to make love to a lady. By all means
send for for Dr. Green.”
Thus the nunnery was a nunnery no more.
Two men under the roof Three visiting it
daily! What was the world coming to ’
Miss Preciosa dared not think. Bella was
locked in her room in the most decorous
manner, while her aunt was in the house,
but when she was absent Deborah and Char
ity sympathized and abetted, and she read
and talked deliciously to dear George, lying
on his back with liis handsome lace so pale
and his spirits so low, poor fellow.!
Troubles always come together. That
eveniug Miss Preciosa received information'
that legal affairs connected with her proper
ty, which was considerable, demanded her
presence in New York, and left the establish
ment, which never before so much needed
its Lady Superior. She returned after three
days towards evening, no one expecting her.
“I shall give them a pleasant surprise,” she
thought, and slipped in the kitchen-way.
There a candle burned, and on one chair sat
two people—Charity Pratt and the druggist's
boy. He had his arm about her waist.
Miss Preciosa grasped the door frame and
shook from head to loot. “I’ll go to Debor
ah,” she said. “She can speak to that mis
guided girl better than I.” She faltered for
ward. Deborah was in the back area
scouring tea knives. Beside her stood old
Todds, the nurse. They were talking.
“Since my old woman died,” said Todds,
“I liain’t seen nobody scour like you—and
the pies you does make.”
“They ain’t better than other folks," said
Deborah, grimly coquetish,
“They air," said Todds; and to Miss Pre
ciosa’s horror, lie followed up the fcoinpli
ment by asking for a kiss.
Miss Preciosa struggled with hysterics and
fled parlorward, Alas! a murmur of sweet
voices. She peeped in. Throtigh the win
dow swept the fragrance of honey-suckle.
Moonlight mingled with that of the shaded
lamp. Bella leaned over an easy chair in
which reclined George Loveboy. This time
Preciosa was petrified.!
“Dearest Bella,” said George.
“My own,” said Bella.
“How happy we are!”
SAVANNAH, GA„ FRIDAY, MARCH 31, 1865.
“Oh, so happy!"
“And when shall we be together again ?
You know I must go. Your aunt won’t
have me here, Bella. I must tell her. Why
are you afraid of her ?”
“She’s so prim and good, dear soul,” said
Bella.
“Ah ! you don’t love me as I do you,”
“George !’’
“You don’t. Would I let an aunt stand be
tween us
“Oh, George, you know I're told you that
nothing could change me. Why, if you had
staid lame, and had had to walk on crutches
all your life, it would have made no differ
ence, though I fell iu love with you for your
walk. I don’t deny it,”
“And I,” said George, “would have almost
been content had fate willed that I should
be a cripple to have been so cherished, to
have reposed on so faithful a bosom.”
“Oh, oh, oli!” from the doorway checked
the speech. Those last awful words had
well-nigh killed Miss Preciosa Lockwood.
Hysterics supervened, aud in their midst a
gentleman was announced. The Rev. Peter
Green.
“Show him in,” said Preciosa. “I need
counsel. Perhaps he may give it.” And for
the first time in her life she hailed the en
trance ot “a man.,’
Mr. Loveboy left the room as stealthily
and speedily as possible, Miss Bella followed
him. Charity was in the pantry hiding her
head, and Deborah returned to the cellar.
Alone the Lady Superior received the Rev.
Peter Green. She faltered and blushed.
“You are, I presume, already aware of the
fact that I am much disturbed in mind,” she
said.
“Yes, Madam. That is perceptible.”
“You are my spiritual adviser, Sir. To
you, though a man, I turn for advice,” and
she shed a tear or two. “My own household
has turned against me.” And she told him
all.
The Rev. Peter made big eyes at her, and
broke the truth gently.
“My dear Madam, you do not know that
old Jonathan Todds and your faithful Deborah
intend to unite their fortunes in the bands of
holy wedlock next Sabbath ?”
“Kuow it! Oh the old, odd sinners! Are
they in their dotage !”
“Or that Charity Pratt, who seems a like
ly sort of girl, she promised to give her hand
to Zeddock Saltz on Thursday ?”
“Oh, Doctor Green ! What do I hear ?"
“The truth, Madame. Can you hear more?”
“I hope so.”
“Then it is time that you should be inform
ed that Miss Bella Bloom and Mr. George
Loveboy have been engaged a year. They
have corresponded regularly. It was to see
her that he climbed the garden wall and met
with his accident. Don’t give way, Madam—
don’t."
“You’re very land,” said Miss Preciosa ;
“but it is awful! What would you advise ?"
“I should say : Allow Todds and Debo
rah to marry next Sunday.”
“Yes, Sir.” w '~.
“And Charity and Zeddock on the day
they have fixed. And I should sanction thi?
betrothal of your niece and Mr. Loveboy, and
allow me to unite them at some appointed
day before the altar.”
•‘My own niece !”said Miss Preciosa. “Oh,
my own niece!”
“Do you so seriously object to weddings ?”
asked the pastor.
“N-no,” said Preciosa. “It’s this awful
courting I dislike.”
“I agree with you,” said Hie pastor. “I
have resolved, when I marry, xo come to the
point at once. Miss Preciosa, the Parsonage
needs a mistress. I know of no ladv I ad
mire and esteem a9 I do you. Will you
make me happv? will you be my wife?”
Preciosa said nothing. Her cheeks burned;
her lids drooped. He came a little closer.
He made bigger eyes at her than ever. At
last bis lips approached and touched her
cheek, and still she said nothing.
In such a case “speech is silver, but si
lence is gold.”
Deborah was married on Sunday, being
her fortieth birthday. Charity on Tuesday.
Miss Bloom gave her hand to George Love :
boy in a month; and on the same day a
brother clergyman united Preciosa and the
Rev. Peter Green. And the Nunnery was
broken up forever.
The expression, “A 1,” applied popularly
to evarything of the first quality, is copied
from the symbols of the British and Foreign
Shipping lists of the 'Lloyds. A designates
the character of the hull of the vessel; the
figure 1, the efficient state of her anchors,
cables and stores: when these are insufficient
in quantity or in quality, the figure 2 is used.
The character A is assigned to anew ship
for a certain number of years, varying from
four to twelve, according to the material and
mode of building, but on the condition of the
vessel being statedly surveyed, to see that
the efficiency is maintained. When a vessel
has passed the age for the character A, but
is still found fit for conveying perishable
goods to all ports of the world, ft is register
ed M asterisk in red. Ships 2E in black
form the third class, and consist of such as
are still found, on survey, fit to carry perish
able goods on shorter voyages. Classes E
and I comprise ships sufficient to convey
goods not liable to sea damage ; the one
class for voyages of any length, the other for
shorter voyages.
What is an Inch or Rain? —The last
weekly return of the Register-General gives
the following interesting information in re
spect to rainfall: Rain fell in London to the
amount of 0.43 inches, which is equivalent
to 43 tons of rain per acre. The rainfall
during last week varied from 30 tons per
acre in Edinburgh to 215 tons per acre in
Glasgow. An English acre consists of 6,-
272,040 square inches ; and an inch deep of
rain on an acre yields C,272,G40 cubic inches
of water, which at 277,274 cubic inches to
the gallon, makes 22,622.5 gallons ; and as a
gallon of distilled water weighs 10 lbs., the
rainfall on an acre is 226,255 lbs.avoirdupois,
but 2,240 lbs. are a ton, and consequently an
inch deep of rain weighs 100.993 tons, or
nearly 101 tons per acre. For every 100th
of an inch a ton of water falls per acre." If
any agriculturalist were to try the experi
ment of distributing artificially that which
nature so bountifully suppiies, he would soon
feel inclined to rest and be thankful.— Eng- j
hth Paper, I
[Written for the Savannah Herald.]
ALONE.
BY PUILIP IIITOIIEL DOtJCiM.
1 am alone and often keeping
Sad vigils o’er affections dead; •
Some iu the graves straight chamber sleeping,
Some like bursting bubbles fled.
lam alone—the .n light tread
And langh have upon my ear.
And I may weep unchecked, nor dread
The scorn that forces back the tear.
Yet for full love my deep soul longeth ;
Gently each seeking tendril bends
To Thee tb whom that soul belongeih—
Loving Redeemer, be my friend!
THE CONTRAST.
You look to the future, on above,
I only look to the past:
Yon are dreaming your first dream of love.
And I have dreamed my last.
You watch for feet that are yet to tread, .
With yours, on a shining track :
I hear but the echoes, dull and dread.
Os the feet that come not back.
You arc passing up on the flowery slope,
1 left so long ago;
Your rainbows shine through the drops of hope.
And mine through the drops of woe.
Night glides limits visions sweet away,
And at morn you live them o’er,
From my dreams by night and my dreams by day,
I have waked to dream no more.
You are reaching forth, with a spirit glad,
To the hopes that are still untried ;.
I am burying the hopes I had,
That have slipped from my arms and died.
And t pray that the blessedest things there be
On your future may descend ;
But, alas, for mine ! it were well for me,
If I made a peaceful end!
—Phoebe Cary.
The Rebel Forces—Lee and Johnston vs.
Grant and Sherman, and the Mountain Re
oion of East Tennessee. —Those persona in
our midst who always see rebel affairs in the
most favorable light maintain that the rebel
lion has still one hundred and fiity thousand
effective men under arms. It is quite cer
tain that this fighre is at least a third too
large to be true; and that one hundred thou
sand would be the extreme limit of the force
that the confederacy could concentrate if all
its armies now in Virginia and North Caro
lina should be massed into one. Moreover,
it is doubtful how effective that army would
be, since Davis declares that he cannot feed
and otherwise supply his present force un
less the rebel Congress shall give him two
millions of dollars in coin, or the absolute
power to seize at sight all necessary supplies
that may be in the rebel States. The latter
Congress will not give, and the farmer it
cannot give.
But one hundred thousand veteran soldiers,
even very poorly supplied, is a formidable
force. What will the enemy do with it ?
Will he fight or retreat ? An army of one
hundred thousand men, posted between two
other armies of nearly or quite that number
each, might, under certain circumstances,
cope advantageously with both ; but to do so
it must be able to prevent their junction ; it
must be so situated with respect to natural
obstacles that it can strike at one with com
paratively little ganger from the other; and
it must be commanded by a man of genius,
while the others must be under men of small
capacity. But these circumstances hardly
apply in the present case; for the enemy
cannot possibly mass his force in such a way
as to prevent the junction of the forces under
Sherman and Grant, and thus caunot poMibty
fight except against overwhelming nuinKrs.
If Johnston should stand at Raleigh or at any
point on the Roanoke, and Lee should rein
force him there iu the hope to crush Sher
man, it is certain that Sherman, il not able to
fight,, could delay a decisive result until
Grant came up. Grant and Sherman can
concentrate as easily and but little less rapid
ly thau Lee aud Johnston, and in any such
game we may fairly trust Grant and Sherman
against either Lee or Johnston, or both
together. *
As for the enemy’s retreat, where can he
go ? It is intimated that when the abandon
ment of Richmond shall become an impera
tive necessity, all the armies of the Confede
racy will be moved through the Blue Ridge,
and that the world will see the spectacle ot a
new Caucasus in the country between the
mountain ranges west of Lynchburg and east
of Knoxville. That district is a highly de
fensible one. It is full of fertile valley that
will abundantly feed the enemy’s men. Its
mineral products of nitre and sulphur are
plentiful, and the sanguine rebels suppose
that by holding the gaps in the ranges they
can in this district keep us at bay until the
burden of such a war shall break us down
financially, -and compel a peace. This is a
very pretty programme. But Lee and John
ston are not in their happy valleys and moun
tain fastnesses yet, and the important ques
tion is whether or not they can ever get
there with Grant and Sherman at their heels,
and probably Thomas in front. —New York
Htrafd.
The New Austrian Minister. —We an
nounced a day or two since that Count Wy
denbruck presented his credentials to Presi
dent Lincoln, as Minister oi the Emperor of
Austria to the United States of America.
Count Wydenbruck is a scion of an ancient
and noble family, and is about forty-five
years of age. When he had finished his'
studies he entered the diplomatic career and
was attached in different capacities, among
others to the mission of Rio Janeiro, Paris
and London, in which latter capital he mar
ried a young lady belonging to the aristocra
cy, who accompanies him to this country.
Count Wydenbruck is a man of prepossessing
apprearance and considerable diplomatic
ability, and will not fail to command the
esteem and respect of our fellow citizens,
maintaining the high standard of his prede
cessor, Count Giorgi, whose death it was our’
painful duty to record a few months ago. _
Crusty prefers a music box in the house
to a piano. He says it obviates the neces
sity of having a young music-master about;
i that it only plays when you set it going ;
! and that when you want to stop it, you can
throw your boot at it, which you, couldn’t
do to your wife. The utterer of this slander
should be chained to a lamp post aud sub
jected for twenty-four hours to the grinding
of twenty-four band organs.
PRICE, 5 CENTS
Grant and Lee —lt would seem almost a
moral certainty that the present week cannot
pass over without some change in the rela
tions, so long maintained, between the ar
mies of Generals Grant and Lee. But in
what shape the change is to come—whether
Grant is to make an attack, or is to be at
tacked, or Lee is to endeavor to get away,
with Grant hanging upon his heels—no one
at this distance can speak with any confi
dence. But both armies appear to be in the
excitable state which precedes action. Mys
terious movements are reported as going on
within the rebel lines, but no inference can be
diawn as to whether they point to evacuation
or offensive designs. All accounts, also, rep
resent the Army of the Potomac as exhibiting
all the signs of strij png lor a flgh - rains aid
wagons in active motion, sutlers ordered to
the rear, and the troops at the front in posi
tion for attack, etc.
The state of the campaign on both sides
abundantly justifies this preparation for a
collision. ‘Sherman has now reached a point
from which his next movement will number
him among the immediate antagonists ofLee.
If Lee, therefore, would count him out, he
must strike promptly. But if he orders
Johnston to marshal all his forces and attack
Sherman, Grant will certainly see to it that
no troops are sent away from Richmond,
eveu it he has to assault Lee’s army in its in
trenchments. If, on the other hand, no de
cided attempt is made to stop Sherman,
Johnston will endeavor to reinforce Lee.
which Grant will prevent if he can, by the
extension of his left round to the Soutliside
road. Either of these plans must be develop
in a few days, or, with Sherman’s rapidity,
aided by the favorable weather of late, the
opportunity will be lost forever.
But suppose Lee intends to evacuate his
position, he must do it quickly. If it is his
design to join Johnston with the hope of
crushing Sherman, then every day he delays
he increases the chances of his being foiled
through the junction of Sherman and Grant.
If he intends to go down the Danville road,
the longer he waits the more he shortens the
line ot attack upon his flank which we
should have through Goldsboro’ and Raleigh,
with Newbern for its base. For the same
reason, our armies are daily getting into a
better position for effective pursuit, in case
Lee should attempt withdrawing to Lynch
burg. Only two other suppositions, so far as
Lee’s taking the initiative is concerned, re
main—one that Lee may yet try another
Northern invasion, and the other, that he
may attack Grant. The former seems ab
surd on the face, but the care which Sheri
dan has taken to break up the railroads lead
ing north from Richmond looks as though
such an apprehension might possibly have
been entertained; but if so, it is past now.
An attack on Grant could only be warrant
ed by tbe hope of getting some sudden advan
tage of great importance; but there is noth
ing probably which the Army of the Poto
mac would like better than such a foolhardy
attempt on the part of the rebels. But in
addition to all these reasons for anticipating
speedy action in Virginia is the probability
that Sheridan will soon add his splendid cav
alry to Grant’s army; of which junction, if
Leejloes not hasten to prevent it, Grant will
certainly avail himself to cut the enemy’s
lines and assail his positions. It will never
do for the rebels to have two such superior
cavalry forces as those of Kilpatrick and
Sheridan co-operating in the rapidly narrow
ing'fields bounded by the hostile lines in Vir
ginia and North Carolina. But if that com
bination is to be prevented at all, it must be
within a very few days.— Boston Journal. t
“What Man Has Done Man Can Do.” —
When General Washington, in 1789, passed
through Philadelphia, be asked Robert Morris
what could be done with a national debt of
$76,000,000. Alexander Hamilton was msae
Secretary of the Treasury, and the debt
speedily paid. Again, we Lad a debt < 8127,-
000,000 in 1816, and in 1835 it was not only
?aid ofl, but a surplus fund remained in the
'reasury. These enas were accomplished
without direct taxation. Pennsylvania has
increased 90 per cent, in both wealth and
population in the last ten years. Other
States have improved, and some even more
largely. There is reason to believe that this
improvement will continue with accelerated
power in the future. But if it holds only its
former proportions, there is an amount of en
couragement in these facts which is worthy
the consideration of every one. The we ights
of fonner times were as great, compared
with existing resources, population aud com
merce, as ours of to-day, and there was not
an equal knowledge of means by which they
could be removed. ,
New Articles op Diet. —While the French
savants are busily engaged investigating the
nutritive properties of horse-flesh, the Eng
lish are making experiments with South
American “jerked beef,’’ or charqi, which
sells in London for three-pence sterling per
iiound. At the London Tavern, recently, a
arge number of persons sat down to a ban
quet at which this article was served up in a
variety of styles. Mr. G. Warriner, instruc
tor of cookeiy to the army, was in atten
dance, and explained the mode of preparing
the meat and soups which were served out to
those who had the good fortune to arrive be
fore the supply was exhausted. The Morn
ing Star says that the meat is not quite so
tough as good leather, and about as salt as
Newfoundland cod, but when properly soak
ed and boiled it is tender and insipid, much
resembling the chips of meat which remain
after a strong soup has been boiled from
them. It contains, however, abundant nutri
ment, and when rendered palatable by pro
per condiments may be a good and whole
some article of food. \
Rich Colored Men. —Ciprian Ricaud is
worth over a million dollars, and is the rich
est colored man in the United States. The
colored men in New York have many riph
men, among them Peter Vandyke, Robert
Watson, J. M. Gloucester and Mr. Crosby,
who own about $3,000,000 in property, real
estate and otherwise. In Philadelphia there
are out of four thousand families nearly three
hundred living in their own houses. Among
the rich men are Vidall, Frosse, White and
Stephen Smith, the latter said to be worth
over $500,000.