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