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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