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VOLUME I.
The Weekly Democrat,
PUBL^ffED
bvER V fHlRSDAY MOBraO.
SUBSCRIPTION TERMS:
One Copy one year - • * *3 00
One Copy six months * - * 150
jading Matter on Every Page,
A Great Man Daguerreotype*!.
A correspomlent of the Omaha
Herald addresses a letter, through
that journal, toU. S. Grant, remind
ing him of his origin, rise and prog
ress, and predicting his early fall.—
As a specimen of literary torture,
it is hard to beat. We annex a few
paragraphs:
Rebellion drew you from the tan-
rats of Galena a passable dresser of
hides: your country's extremity be
came your opportunity; even the
nnpracticed school-boy knowledge of
warlike ways, and methods of drill
^3 in fearful demand, and made its
iindifti'rent possessors the leaders of
many .better followers. Thus the
accident ct a soldier’s education,
which too had long before swapped
for a calling more congenial to your
capacities, placed you, though long,
yet in the line of command.
You made a feint at fighting in
Missouri; . ycu role a good l.'orsc
from Foote’s gun-boats to the vicinity
of Donalson, just at the day break o/
capitulation; you came in seven miles
of taking part at Shiloh; you suc
ceeding in wasting a good many
noWiers to afford you a quiet three
months*-inokc before Vicksburg.—
Yet, not these achievements, but
time, death, and decapitation of su
periors, coupled with the cut-and-dry
policy of the times, brought you to
(he front about the last in the list.
Yj»u were torn to the chief of com
mand at an hour when the people
were as weary of change as they bad
lately been clamorous for it.
They gave into yoyr hands giant
army corps, moulded from the man
hood, and girded with the hopes of
the nation—men whom prior services
had mads veterans in valor and in-
vinciblc by hardship. With such
raageiticent opportunities for opening
in the field, that career of ambitious
■selfishness w hich has so distinguish
ed you as a civil captain, how long
did you make peaeri the. policy of
war? Your quiet residence in Vir
ginia was at leas i ample to gain you
citincnship. You sat smoking on the
•curbstone of the Confederacy while
Sherman disemboweled the dread
creature you watched.
Worn-out weakness then succumb
ed to accumulated strength, and yon
as the nominal head of the army bc-
eamc the hero of the hour crowned
at once with all the laurels that years
of war and other hands had been
saving up for him whom chance
wight find fir* in command at the
•close of battle.
Then was the star of your glory at
meridian; triumph veiled defects;
peace and its offspring, pride, spiked
the guns of criticism; your rank be
came the focus of observation; your
passivity passed for reserve force;
voilr silence counterfeited modest
worth and went current for the orig
inal gem.
These negative excrescence be
came your Joshua and held your
luminary at meridian through three
years of returning peace and lasting
jubilee. The morbidly eulogistic fe
rtile who sketched you for the cam
paign of '68, boasted that you “had
no opinions on politics, no theories
*'oout the government of the coun-
tr y ' Thus did your friends make
Know Kotlhngism the ground work
^yonr political chances. It is a sad
f ottuentary upon the hopeless vanity
mer 't and thorough knowledge of
American principles that want of
opinions on politics” and of “theo-
the government of the
wa,' ^ should be the wind that
j. 5 ffan,oa wickedness into the
' ^ of political trusts! But such
truth.
Cc,J0 of arms still rang through
* land, and compelled a great
die^ l ° DUrsc ca l am Ry for its expe-
a **y making you, whom the
iwJ- Dt30 ^ War had pushed to be
k first in that sphere, equal-
t'lj rst * n civil leadership. Yet
m you were as destitute of ex-
farefi 00 l ° as J ou were beg-
u. lu ca P ac 'ty to conceive, or
rp, ^ e ' ea l C( I yourself lost to self-
tionai!) comm on honesty and na-
ccenev in execution.
Your Section was in no jrat sense
a tribute to the' man. Would not
another, irbMiqg, your official .post
through the closing acts of the war,
hold in you* stead to-day ? Wbtfld
you, not holding then the military
staff, now hold the Civil mace C You
were but the home-made Grand Duke
of the day—courted, not for the in
trinsic deserts and as one created to
command; but as^onq whom Juck had
created the casual representative of
a great sword power. With this
broad blanket, Covering the same
lewd nest as charity is said to, you
rode the Republican party, and the
party continued to ride the false and
saddle-sore old motto—-“Principles,
not men." Your civil debauch Illus
trates their value without a man.
Hair as an Indication Of Char
acter.
felraight,lanlc, stringy-loofeing hair
indicates weakness - and cowardice.
Curly hair denotes a quick temper.
Frizzly hair, set on one’s head as
ifeacli individual hair were ready to
fight its neighbor, denotes coarse
ness.
Light auburn hair denotes rare
intelligence, industry and a peaceful
disposition. ^
Coarse straight black haif denotes
a sluggish disposition, with but little
ambition, and a love of case, with a
disposition to find fault and borrow
trouble.
' Black hair, very little inclined to
curl, with a dark complexion, indi
cates personal courage, especially
when one is cornered with'a wonder
ful degree of pertinacity and a dis
position to hang on until whatever
is undertaken is accomplished.
Red hair, if straight, denotes ug
liness and a haughty, domineering
disposition.
Lightish red hair, somewhat given
to curl, if it be tine rather than
coarse, indicates ambition, but de
ceit., treachery and a willingness to
sacrifice old friends for new ones, or
for personal advancement.
a jovial disposition, without much
energy-or power for calculat ion for
bargains. Such persons ate generally
good fellows, content to work for
others more than themselves.
Brown hair denotes a fondness foi*
life, a friendly disposition, ambition,
eavnestucss of purpose, capacity for
business, and reliability in friendship
in proportion as the hair is fine.
Light brown hair, with a clear
skin, is a v( ry certain indication of
courage, ambition, reliability, and
Nearly all the best business men of
the country have this kind of hair.
The finer and more silken the text
ure, the finer.the organization, and
the more touchy and in flam aide the
disposition. If such hair he straight
and fine, it indicates an •even dispo
sition, a rCadiiiess to forgive, with a
desire to add to the happiness of
others.
"Persons with fine light-brown or
auburn hair, inclined to curl or friz,
are quick tempered, and are given
to resentment and jovenge.
euff%'.«£ e®f she was
going to' "fight for the champion's
belt. Then she worked Aier wrists
and her hands to limber ’em, I sup
pose, and spread out her fingers till
they looked as though they would
pretty much cover the key-board,
from the growling end to the little
squeaky one: Then those two hands
of hers made a jump at the keys as
if they were M couple of tigera com
ing down on a flock of white and
black sheep, and the piapo gave a
great howl as if its tailed' been trod
on. Dead stop—so still you could
hear your hair growing. Then an
other jump, and another howl, as if
the piano had two tails and you had
trod on both of’em at once, and then
a graqd cligtter add scramble and
string of jumps, up and down, back
and forward, one hand over the
other, like a string of rats and mice
more than, like- anything I eall music.
I like to hear a woman sing, I like
to hear a fiddle sing, but these
noises they hammer out of their
wood and ivory anvils—don’t talk to
me, J. know the' difference bctWeen a
bullfrog and a woodthrush.
OUR
NEW YORK CORRES
PONDENCE.
A Stroll ox Broadway—Street
Scenes—The People We Meet
—PfiN-i^ORTRAITfe OF -AN M. 'C.—
Buffalo BIll—A Mysterious
Stranger—Stewart's Opening.
New York, March 10th^ 1872.
If Lavater, the physiognomist,
could be brought to life and walk
down Broadway, the old man’s heart
would be gladdened at the verifica
tion of Bis peculiar knowledge of hu
man nature that would be .found
written on the faces of the passing
crowd.
I suppose there is no place in the
world where a man sees such dis
tinctive shades, nationalities and ex
pressions as in a stroll on a fair af
ternoon down Broadway. Intellect
What is called sandy-hair indicates tin rags And rascality in broadcloth;
countenances creased with Crime
and care; eyes alight with the ex
citement of troffie in. bodies and
souls; lips With their last lie upon
them, almost quivering and in sight;
and “hrimhri frtvnia HiriVio""*. i— »
beeome the temples of the worst
passions and vices of mankind.
There is beauty enough to make a
bachelor break his vows, but, robed
in the fashion of the day, you cannot
tell whether''it belongs to the great
harem represented by thirty thous-
determination to overcome obstacles. , ami houses of prostitution, to a
Light brown hair 1 , inclined to red-1
virtuous home. There is age, ven
erable, aristocratic and adorned
with its silver locks, but^fot-nll you
know, it is fresh from the battle
fields of Wall strofct, where it has
been instrumental in sending a skel
eton into score of households. Then,
there arc the poor—GocT help them!
The poor sewing-girls in their thread
bare garments; live poor-old women
who sit in the cold blasts on the
street corners and sell newspapers;
I the poor Chinese patiently waitiag
' r for somebody to purchase their
ness with a freckled skin, isacertain
indication of deceit, treachery, and
a disposition to do something mean
by a friend, when that friend can no
longer be used to advantage.
Straight black hair, crisp and
glossy, indicates great power of en
durance, indifference to danger, and
a strong pre-disposition, to revenge
wrongs or insults, real or fancied.—
The coarser the hair, the longer the
person having it nurtures his re
venge, till there conies a safe chguce
for its gratification.
Hair that is inclined to change its
appearance with the weather, with
a sort of recklessness to style, indi
cates a corresponding recklessness,
or, ratfce^ independence, as to the
speech of people.
Mukic So-Called-
I don't like your chopped music,
any way. That woman—she had
more sense in her little finger than
forty taedical societies—Florence
Nightingale—saYs the music' j*ou
pour out is good for siek folks, and
the music you pound-out isn’t. Not
that exactly, but something like it.
I have bpqn to hear somtrmusic
pouncing. , it was a. young woman,
witfi W many whfte muslin flounces
around her as the planet Saturn has
tings, that did it. She gave the
music stool a twirl or two, and
cheap cigars} the poor blind people
who grind out the sad dirge of their
life on ja hurdv-gurdfo ftfidgre grate
ful for a trifle; the poor boys and
girls who brush the mud from the
street crossings that you may pass
over dry shod, and ask with their
pleading eyes and pinched faces for
“Only a penny, please sir;” the om
nibus drivets—those Cossacks of
city civilization, whose hand is lit
erally raised against every man, as
they invite him to come in oflt of the
cold, and who sit b om morning till
night on their frigid pedestals like
so many animated ice-bergs, never
so lively as when the atmosphere is
ten degrees below zero. Where do
they dfll find an abidingplafee ? Tteit's
the question. Cheap Tpdgings and
the station houses, where humanity
is packed together in a filthy mass
that taints the air with corruption
tell one part of the story;,. Potter's
field and the Penitentiary tell the
re*.
Yet-outsidcof these graver shad
ows, the picture is still made inter-
the-form of an. Apollo/ aufl a figure
that looms up a head above the ma
jority of the passing peteple, is Hie-
nan, the “Benicia Boy.” His broken
nose, the relic of a tweiftjf-ftnir foot
ring, but slightly, disfigures a mod
est countenance, and the unassum-
ing and peaceful bearing of the man
is in keeping with the general char
acter which hp has maintained since
he abandoned the muscular profess
ion. lie has thousands of friends,
especially among the local politi
cians.
Perhaps we shall meet John Mor
rissey, albeit when in town he holds
forth at the Hodman House. Take
six feet of human statifre, paa it sol
idly with two hundred and ten or
twenty pounds avoirdupois, £(79 it
a pair of broad shoulders and hip. - :,
a steady underpinning, and a gait
eivery mbiion of which is indicative of
power; crown the whole with a mass
ive head, black hair, keen, dark
eyes, an immobile face' and- mouth,
though slightly shaded by a mous
tache and beard, and marred by
another broken nose, and yon have
as good a pentograph as I can make
of the famous fighter, M. C." and
millionaire.
Speaking of fighting, here comes
a man in whom yon will be interes
ted—Buffalo Bill, a real border hero,
who for the first tiime has traveled
east of the Mississppi River, Wil
liam Cody is his true name, but in
his wild life among the frontiersmen,
scouting among Indians and scalp
ing Apaches, he has wons a oubriquet
that has already been made famous
in romance and the drama. Ned
Buntline has cleverly “done” hia in
a five-act play full of thrilling ^bor
der scenes that has set the Bowery
boys wjld with delight, Yoh will
notice that, ppearantjy, there is
not a spare ounce of flesh on his su
perb frame; that it is knit together
as with hooks of steel, and is lithe
and elastic. lie moves along with
an easy, swinging stride; his feet
and hands arc small,..but he seeing
uncomfortable out of the moccasins
and leather loggias. He has a young
face, but what a world of character
is written on it. Although the long
brown hair sweeping down on the
shoulders of the heavy bl*u&u r " cr ’‘
coat, may savor of a bit of romance
in his composition,^, single look Into
a pair of gray ryes that you cannot
help associating with a rifle barrel,
dispels the notion that there is any
nonsense about the man—anything
bat the tense, sharp high-strung
courage of one who carries his life
in bis hand, and brajns .enough, iip
the language of Hawkeye, to “Sar-
cumvcnt the pesky redskins.” . He
returns to his post in a few days.
Yonder goes another character—
a strange compound Who for ten
years has yvalked Broadway, appar
ently “the world unknowing and by
the worid’ unknown.” ! have never
yet seen a man who knew his name
or business; only this, thaj he came
from Furope. in , jvell-to-do, circum-
stadcos, aecompkmed by’ his wife
and daughter; that one died and the
oilier was ruined, since which time
he has pursued his lonely way
among men. He dresses meanly,
but walks as if he owned the Strfcet.
• There is a wild glare in his. eyes,
heightened perhaps by a pair of iron
spectacles, and a savage firmness
about the lips, as if he feared some
mighty secret might escape them.
Altogether it is a face which ovon in
tile crowd of Broadway prints itself
on the memory and comes up amon*
the ghosts #f after hours.
But I am transgressing the proper
limits of a letter, and must close
even in the middle of a chapter. I
might go on -by the hour and des
cribe notabilitiest-the Japanese
princes, Greeley, Oakey Hall, John
Graham and his learned wig, M alt
Whitman the poet, Mark Twain,
Josh Billings, Timothy Titcomb,
Thomas Nast the caricaturist, and
dozens of person^ whom you are like
ly to meet in .a walk;, yet they. must
be held in reserve Tor-another day,
Of local events there have been
none worth recording. The trial of
Stokes drags its slow length along;
fluffed down on to It like a whirl of‘out a few. That finely dressed man
scapsuds in a hand basin. Then she
political
ways visible, and with true demo
cratic irole^enderice ybu may elbow
dour way 5 : among celebrities who
range from a prize-fighter to a Pres
ident. Take mv arm for a saunter
down Broadway and .let me point
in front of the Sterling House, with
esting by the people j^fcmeet. Th d ^, at 0 f the Mayor is still pending,
social and political lions arc al- Mm-rfora and mysterious
Murders, suicides and mystjnous
dead men make up toe -rest of the
procession of New York items. The
■weather grows decidedly “March,”
and, though clear, the clouds ofijust
tfiat play their mad pranks and
whirl in eddies up toone.seyes, ears
ami nose, make a day s tramp any
thing but agreeable. It may inter
est the ladies to know that Stewart
has bad a- grand opening of coming
fashions, which for three days at
tracted thousands of the sex arid
constituted the most magnificent
dry goods spectacle ever seen in
America.
The Appletons are about produc
ing one of the most beautiful books
ever published—“Picturesque Amer-
ica”-a series of exquisite pictures and
descriptions of picturesque localities.
“Wisdom Teeth for Little People,”
a collection of useful knowledge for
children in the nursery find out of it,
has been prepared bj Mrs. F.,G. de
Fontaine, and promises to be a val
uable means of education in the
hands of mothers.
By the way, the cheapest place in
New York for the publication of a
book or pamphlet is the Journey
men Printers’ Co-operative Associa
tion. They are turning out elegant
work in every department of the
art, and making steady headway as
an “institution” that illustrates the
power and profits 0 proper combina
tion among skilled artisans.
The old adage “it’s an ill wind
that blows nobody good,” never was
more emphatically exemplified than,
■in the case of Messrs. Herring, Far
rell & Sherman, the manufacturers
til the celebrated Herring safes. The
great fire at Chicago brought to
them nearly one hundred and fifty
of ihe most valuable indorsements
that can be given to a successful in
vention, arid since that time the
New York firm, at 251 Broadway*
have been scarcely able to supply
the demand. What the " business
man requires is.perfect, security for
Ms transportable property, and the
Herring safes appear to have reach
ed in their various Severe tests the
very climax of this perfection.
— rr.—1 ^ » r >■. - ' - /
Celestial Invention of Babies.
Como, Raid the angels to cueb cither once,
While yet the world was young.and sweet,
Let us devise some novelty. Perchance
ideation is not Vet complete. . lx
The Lord looked on, and smiled a heavenly
smile, . .
Curious to note what they would make,
Those eunajed«msnfhfeitiy#wa*«»vtfe!»ji’hile,
That Satan also watched—to break.
. ■ f.rni: 7qa wax ■ ■
Long the discussions entertained the throng,
^Rejecting every fresh deyic^ .
"iSvasiolti - twas ugly—’turns related wrong;
Mechanical—mechanics was a bore;
Diamonds were drugs. Flowers faded at
, tissir feasts. / l
Evfeir ncir music gratifieaYtd rtdirg.*
At length the youngest angel spake and said,
Leave it ..tq^me.. At that the,, assembly
• smiled; ■ • '• * -
But Ariel, glancing upward, inly prayed :
Help me, All J&jthjsr! J would njake a—
And when the seraphs saw the chubby face,
Those curly locks of golden hue,
Those wise ytmng lyes, those hands full of
grace.
Those tiny feet, they shouted, Good ! and
... Hjew! ■ . ,r T
No longer was there ennui now in heaven,
The daily worship of the Golden Throne
Cotdd hardly with due pomp of choir be
given.'"
The poor All Father was quite left alone,
While truant cherubs thronged the way to
earth, •
Yet all the sweeter smile the Father smiled
To see them eager aud all out of breath,
Crowding to catch a glimpse of Ariel’s
child.
: h
So hath it lasted from that day to this,
Heaven doubling daily its abounding joys;
Inventing music to express its bliss,
And feeling suru of the eternities
The invention took—and evetry angel now
Must try his hand at this superb device.
But still—the youngest makes the sweetest
brow,
The tiniest feet and hands, the bluest eyes.
[J. P. Lesley, in Old and Neio.
GRANT’S EARLY DEVELOP
MENT*
How he Came it Over the Deacon.
A corespondent of the New York
Sun ie,treating the reatlprs of that
paper U iptereslmg ipciatfrits in the
early life of the’Great Ulysses, which
of course are certa inly authentic.—
We extract a single exploit as evi
dence of the precocity of the future
President: , r ; , ’
the boy’s ingenuousness.
“ ’Lysses, tny son, do you know
how Deacon-Tetter copie. to have
some of my Cninee chicken aigs ?”
Ulysses hesitated a smoment, and
then, with quivering lips, the noble
boy ejaculated-;
“Father, it will not pay to tell a
lie; I hooked the aigs and sold 'em
to the Deacon, but”—he hurriedly
added, as fire* gleamed from the old
man’s eyes, and the gad was raised
on high—“1 bilefi ’emi 1
1 ‘Biled em ?” said old Mr. Grant,
greatly agitated.
“Yes, biled every dog-gone one of
’em, and the old Deacon’s hens can
set on ’em till the cows come home,
but they* won’t never hatch nary
chicken.”
THE OLD MAN’S-ADMIRATION.
‘ ‘Come to'year daddy, ” exclaimed
his lather, with ontstretched arms.
“I’d rather you would hook and sell
a thousand biled aigs than have that
breed of Chinee chickens go out ol
the Grant family.”
The blushing boy advanced to his
parent, who patted him on the head
ami regarded him with good parental
pride. i
“■And so you biled ’em?" the
father said. “Well, now I never 1
Wbo’d a supposed the bey would
have thought of that ? ’Lysses, my
son, I’m proud of yen. Yon ll be
the President of the United States
yet, if you only keep on. And you
served the old deacon jest right.-—
What did you get for the aigs—-
biled?”
Ulysses cast a suspicions glance at
his father, which the father observ
ing, hastily added:
“The money’s your’n, my son-;—
you’ve earned it fairly, and you shall
haveit!”
Thus reassured, Ulysses proudly
responded:
“He gave me a dollar for a half
dozen of’em.”
“A dollar for half a dozen of ’cmle-
biled ?” exclaimed the old gent—
man, greatly excited. “You lie,
’Lysses, he didn’t did he, though ?”
THE OLD MAN’S IMPOLITENESS.
“He gave pae a round silver dol
lar for’em,” answered the truthful
bay.
“A round silver dollar,” said the
old gentleman, with an incredulous
air. ‘ ‘Let me see it, my son. ”
Ulysses produced a tour-bladed
knife, from ins pocket, and carefully
ripping open the lining to the waist
band of his trowsers, brought forth
the coin fromits*place of concealment
where he hqd 'intended keeping it
until the 4th, of July. The impulse
of patriotism manifested itself in our
President at a very early period of
jhis life.
The old gentleman took the dollar
in his band and examined it careful
ly. As lie gqzed upon it, a pleasant
expression rippled over his features,
.spreading and spreading until his
whole countenance beamed with
satisfaction and delight, aud every
wrinkle in his venerable visage be
came an individual smile.- Then with
tears of joy* and pride'streaming from
his eyef he saufto the..boy: ^
THE QI* M^x’s. HONEST PRjDE,
‘ ‘ ’Lysses, my son, you’ve hqne3tly
earned this money. There’s fewfcoys
at your age woufal have thought of
biling the aigs. The money is yours
—your own. And for fear that.you
should lose it, I will keep it for you,
So saying, the old man dropped
flic coin iii a capacious leather purse,
and placed it in his pocket. He‘has
been keeping that dollar for Ulysses
ever siriee. 1 ■ 1 '
From tlio Home Commercial.
BIG JOHN WKITfcS TOBILL
-ARP.
He’s “Lonesome*—iira ,
the American-English - War—
The War Steer with the Strain
ed Tail—He Wants a Circus—
Snuks.
Armuchee Low Grounds, )
March 6th, 1872, |
Dear Bill: Do you remember
all them fine speeches you and Gen’l.,
Black made me about farmin? If
you don’t I do. I’ve tried it one
year; and I would like to know
about what time the funny part be
gins. How long does a man have
to experience .before he succeeds,
and ain’t it possible that an ordi
nary man might run througtt and
break down before he got a fair
start ? Don’t a man sometimes get
too old and fat for his bisiness be
fore he begins it? The truth is
Bill I’m afeerd I’ve mistuk my okku-
pation, or else I’ve located on sum-
body elses land. Armuchee creek
is mity good for mill ponds, but Ar-
muehee bottom won’t make corn for
me. It turns up in slick, white,
greasy clods as big as mud tuirkles,
and smells as sour as a still house.
There’s two thousand crawfish holes
to the square rod, and where there
ain.t a hole there’s a cowich vine or
a snake root. Old uncle Johnny
Cox says its a very pekulyar sile and
has-to be managed keerfully. The
fakt is Bill I’m disappinted ad a
farmer, but I ain’t gin up yet. I
thot that I could set on the dirt
floor of my veranda and see my corn
growin all day long. I intended to
have a cornshukin in the fall and in
vite you all up and have the biggist
frolic in the world. It actually
bothered me at night tliinkin who
I’d ax and who I w'oulderit, and
how I’d fix up for em.
That corn has never come up jut.
Its gone where the cowich twincth
and the snake root twisteth, and -the
craw-fish, boreth his hole. I hired
two fellers to crop it for me, and
was to give em ten bushels of corn
a piece to the acre. The crop dident
make but eight, Bill, and they took
it. Old man Williamsdp’ is lettiii me
have meal and is to wait on roe till
next crop. He’s as clever a man as
ever took two tolls out "of one grist.
I hired a nigger to sow down ten
acres of wheal fur mo last fall. He
sorter scratched it in and 1 paid
him ten dollars. That wheat haint
never cum up yet* Bill, and it is sup
posed that nigger sold it. Ybu, see
that was Cirkus week when he sowed
it and I staid in town. I’ve almost
lost all hope of it comin up this sear
son. Would yoa plant the ground
in something else or not ? Shokly
says that he thinks that wheat
sprouted downwards, and will cum
up sum where on tuther side, "|but
Shokly is always theorizin a£out
sumthin.
Bill is there any shuks in town ? I
want a bale of shuks—a small bale—
one that my old war steer can haul
over the mountain. Perhaps you
can git me sum from Gen’l. Black. -
He’s the President of the JEfHr aritf'"*
ought to hav saved shuks. I must
hav sum sort of ruflhess for my old
steer and mule until grass cuma-—
shorely it will cum early this spring—
shorely it will. If it don’t why Rill,
I’m busted on stock, cortin. Is there
any news of anutker, Cirkus cumin?
Tell Grady to stir em up and gjk me
a free ticket. It will take a show
once a month to make me tolerate
farmin as an oljkupashun. I’m earn
ing d iwn next week anjhow ^fler
them shuks. Major Blgnt. had jest
as well, hunt cm .up, dor if I can’t git
cm I aint comin back here no mo. e,
and he’l hav me to feed ashore.:
i Whats all this news about anoth
er war ? I tell you what Bill'when I
heerd.it Hooked right at old Dobbin
and he looked right at the wpgin
like he was jest ready to be hitehed .
ip for. immediate flite* I was power-
ftilly relieved when I heard it was a
fuss between John Bull and Yankee
Doodle, Thats none of our funeral
Bill, and I wonldent walk j4i0^ yards
to sec em eat one anuther up, ,- ; Yes
I would—I’d like to be on top of
Arauck'ee ; mountain and see em fifte
till every craw fish hide was filled
with their blood, and . then manure -
my land with their .bones. But I
don’t want to run agy, more Bill—
see about them shuks as soon as
possible., Them yanks hav gqt a
bankcrin after me and I can’t rest
.till they are exterminated. -But they
aint agoin to fite Old- England; No
si.. They wouldent declare .war
agin a sick sheep if they couldent
hire sum furriners to do the. fitin.
Uncle’sam^SffHi^ffefcM,
theres no tellen what devilment they
would kick up in case of a war.
Don’t forget my shuks, Bill. The
old steer aint in good fix for anuth
er campane. I notis his tail looks
powerful weak. It’s never recover
ed from the old strain, but theres
no use in borrowih trouble. My hef-
fer strayed over the mountain on
Judge Wrights side about a month
ago, and they say one never gits
back from the flat woods." Sumbody
cut off the Judges saddle skirts last
week. I tell you them flat woods
population is mity fond of hide and
taller. It was the Judges go to
mcctin saddle. Pity, aint it ? Dont
forgit to see Black about .he shuks.
Yours truly Big John.
P. S.—I’ve got sumthin to tell
you when I see you. Theres a wo
man in the case. The fakt is Bill
I’m lonesome. I wish I could call
back 30 years and sluf off about 200
pounds of surplus flesh, I’d not play
a lone hand no more, and jest think
what a savin it would be in clothes.
Look after them shuks. Rufncss is
the thing now. Sec the furniture
shop arid find out what they will
make me a bedsted 7 feet wide. I’m
lonesome. ' . J.
A TEKBIFIC TOBNADO.
Loss OF Life—Great Destruction to
Property—Houses Blown to Pieces
—Stock Killed—Homeless People.
[From the Jacksonville Union, 12th. 1
One of the severest storms that ever
visited Florida, came upon us on Satur
day last. The cyclone was apparently
divided in several stratas, as was shown
in several instances where it had pass
ed. Starting from Camp Moon -y, six
miles trom the city, the farthest point
from which we have any reliable ad*
vice*, it pursued an easterly direction,
and in the distance of a mile destroy
ed fonr dwellings, besides otT-l uildings,
treed, <fec. The House’ of Solonaon
Thomas was completely carried,ayray,
severely injuring both Mr. and Mrs.
Thomas, and leaving them almost naked
amid the ruiiis. ’ Two carts that stood
in the yard were demolished an.) puts
of them rarried to a d.'» : au.-e 4 o[ iwo
[CONTINUED ON FOUR nl 1’AGS. 4