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C'jje iiU&lit IS .PUBLISHED WEEKLY —A T TiE-iOTvrsoixr. o-a.. —B *-* 7 GERALD & WHITS. BUSINESS CARDS. M, /£* SemArg/JPs&g IMPORTE ; AND DEALER IN WINES. ALES, JKjI'OHS, pOBTERS, Cigars, Kte. Corner Itroail nnd .Tnek- Mon Street, AUG USTA, GA. May 7. , ts |p aimer ip ou s c (Over Bignon Sc Crumps Auetion Store,) 281 Hroad Street, Augusta, Georgia. J. I. PA LATER, Proprietor. Good board furnished by the week, month ot day. April 9 4t PAUL C. HUDSON ATTOHNKY AT LAW, Thom-on, Ga. £jT Prompt attention givun to all busi ness entrusted to his care. March 12. 6in fc R, W. H NEAL, mflllNEY AT LAW, THOMSON, GA. Office. —Over J. H. Montgomery’s Store. CHARLES S. DuBOSE, ATTIMYKY AT LAW, WARReNTON, ga. C4T Will practice in the courts of the Northern, Middle and Augusta Circuits. ~~ H. C. RONEY, ATTOHNKY AT LAW, THOMSON, G\. Will practice in tho Augusta, North ern and Middle Circuits. nolyl C. E. DODD. H. L. MEALING. C. E. DODD & C 0„ WHOLES ALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN Hats, Cans wnd Straw Goods, No- 250 Broad Street, jnu 20mG UG I SL A, GA. WALTON CLARKE & CO. Wholesale Grocers . , -AND—. } Commission Merchants, TV<» soa, lSi-onil Strent, Jan. 22, —ly. AUGUSTA, GA. A . D. HILL” Druggist and Apothecary, THOMSON, 6 A . Keeps constantly on hand a full and com plete supply of Drugs. Medicines. Chemicals, Paints, Oils. Varnishes, Glass, Putty. Pure "Wines and Liquors for Medicinal purposes. Kerosene Oil of 150 fire test j also Lamps, Chimuitjß and Burned; ALSO, Just received a fresh supply of Buists Warranted Garden Seeds. Prescriptions carefully compounded. jan 15 mG Thomson High School Foil aors .t.ru omuls. N. A. LEWIS, PltiNoirji,. MISS E. F. BRADSHAW, Assistant. Tho Spring Term began on the 15th of Jan. 1873, and embraces six scholastic months. The Fall Term begins August 11th and embraces four months. For particulars apply to the Principal.* Feb. 13 ts. Central fjotel. BY MRS. W. M. THOMAS, AUGUSTA. GEORGIA seplltf Plumb & Leitner, 211 BROAD STREET. AUGUSTA, GA. WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN Drugs anti Medicines, I’aintSj Oils, Glass. Br u sh e 8, 1* e rs u me ry, Fresh Garden Seeds &c. AGENTS FOR THE CELEBRATED W A. U It K IV II O E . March 26 3m Vli •s. Leckie, DEALER IN FASHIONABLE MILLINERY NQ I'A \ CJV OOOD , (Real and Imitation.) HAIR CURLS, SVJTOHES, &C., JET AND FANCY JEWELRY, &C., i7l BROAD STREET, AUGUSTA, GA. april Hi 2m Livery & Sale Stable SPEIR & EMBKEE. At the old stand on Main Street, above Masonic Hall, Thomson* Ga., propose to continue the business of a Livery and Sale Stable. They will keep a good assortment of Fancy ad Substantial Stock, and the very best Vehicles. »heir Stables are com modious, convenient and secure, where drovers can obtain the best accommodations, Jnd by giving their personl attention to the ausiness, at all hours, day and night, will buarrantee satisfaction. Jim. 8. 6m SPEIR & EMBR EE, Stic m\ ccltln Journal VOLUME III—NUMBER 23. rs& For over FOR l'Sf YEAR.I this Purely Vegetable LIVER MEDICINE has proved to be the Great Unfailing Spoeific for Liveh Complaint and its painful off spring, DYSPEPSIA, CONSTIPATION, Jaundice, Bilious attacks, SICK HEAD ACHE, Colic, Depression of Spirits, SOUR STOMACH, Heartburn, CHILLS ANT) FEVEK, See., Ac After years of careful experiments, to meet a great and urgent demand, we now produce from our original Genuine Powders. The Prepared. A Liquid form of SIMMONS* LIVER REGU LATOR, containing all its wonderful and valuable properties, and offer it in ne Dollar Bottles. The Powders, (priceas before,) slooper package. Sent by mail, I.oi CAUTION ! Buy no Powders or PREPARED SIM MONS’ LIVER REGULATOR, unless in our engraved wmpper, with Trade mark. Stamp and Signature unbroken. None other is genuine. J. H. ZEILIN & CO-, MACON, GA. AND PHILADELPHIA. SOLO BY ALL DRUGGISTS. BEUMMEL’S LADIES’ BITTERS, Manufactu red by 282 BROAD ST„ AUGUSTA, GA. Rectifiers, Redistillers, Importers and Wholesale Dealers in PURE I¥E AND Corn Whiskies. FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC LIQUORS, Brandies, Wines, Gin, Hnm, Porter, Ale. Etc. Also a Superior Article of LADIES’ BITTERS. <liT Tobacco and Seg.irs of every Variety. January 20, 1873—dm. Wm, Wmis T 1 IIE Guide is published Quarterly.-- 25 cents pays for the year, which is not half the cost. 1 hose who afterwards send mon ey to the amount of one dollar may also or der 25 cents worth extra—the price* for the Guide. Tho first number is beautiful, giv ing plains for making Rural Homes, Dinitig Table Decorations, Window Gardens, Ac., and a mass of information invaluable to the lover of tiowers. 150 pages on fine tinted pa per some 500 engravings, and a superb col : ored plate, and ‘ liromo Cover. "Tim first edition of 200,000 printed in Eng lish and Gemim. JAMES VICK, Rochester, N. Y. I March 12 I New and Fashionable SPRING AND SUMMER GOODS! P. 11. LYNCH, I j MERCHANT TAILOR, | 36 Jackson St., Globe Hotel Augusta, Ga., iI R espectfully announces to his friends and the public generally, that he has j just received ami has now on hand a Com- I plete au 1 Elegant Stock of Cloths. Cassi ! meres Doeskins. Suiting and Vestings, se lected from the choicest importatio. of French, English and Scotch in mufactures, ; which he is prepared to make up to order ; in the most approved manner, guaranteeing | Fit, Workmanship and Style of the first j order. i In returning thanks to my friends and the public for the very liberal patronage ex ; tended to me during the past season, I re- I spectfully solicit a coutinuauce of the same, and hope by strict attention to the desires ’ of iny customers to give the same satisfac tion in the future as I have given in the past. P. H. LYNCH. April 2 3m Augusta, Ga. ! v<.ik fort;* in t - .r »p».a mom. tin or«II ii.q timetßnu ! >»*«. r»rMcuisrifree. A IRui O. bt'.otvn 4 o>., t'wi t!»o I, iii.uv THOMSON, McDUFFIE COUNTY, GA, JUNE 4,1873. POETICAL. A Summer Day. j Sunshine over the meadow lands, Kissing tlie crimson clover, j And sunshine haunting the lilly-cups And*the yellow bees hung over; And sunshine over the hazy hills. And over the dimpling river— And I wish thnt the sun and the summer day Might shine and last forever. We walked dowu by the meadow path, The broad highway forsaking. For the quiet of that lovely spot Seemed better for our love-making, And I was silent, and she was shy, As we walked down through the clover, But we thought it the sweetest summer day That ever the sun shone over. We heard the birds in the waving grass, As they twitted to each other About the nests they had hidden away, 1 And the coo of each glad bird’s mother, And we tho’t as we walked that summer day ; Through the clover blooms together, That at last the world was in perfect tune, In the glad, bright summer weather. I cannot tell what I said to her, As we walked knee-deep in clover ; But I know that the robbins merrily sang Their sweetest of sweet songs over; And down in my heart love’s own bird sang ( A song that was gladder, sweeter, And its echo joined the world’s glad hymn And made tho day completer. i And when we came up tho meadow path, ! Our hearts sang over anti over, i “Oh sweet glad day for blossom and bird, And for every blytho young lover!” And yet 1 know not the words she said. Or whether she spoke at all; But of all sweet days that summer day I count as the best of all. Silence and Sadness. You think because I do not frame My thoughts as others do, to burn, My spirit’s cold , my passion tame, My heart an urn ; Because my dull lips rarely smile You think no light ere beams within, Perchance that all is stained with guile, And dark with sin. You know not what it costs of pain To press back to their swelling source Life s purest promptings, and restrain Their earnest force; Nor can another mind e’er know The weary weight that rests on mine, Where hope's dull embers dare not glow, Nor give a sign. No, no ; whate’er my heart may fool, Howe'er my soul may Reek to rise To nobler life and deeds more leal, And fairer skies ; My prisoned thoughts, must wear their chain, I dear not break the binding spell, l must edure the constant paiu, And torture foil. I And when I sit in silent mood, Or speak in words that have no cheer, j You think I'm cold, and dark, and should Be less austere. , I would not have you think me more Than what I am and what I seem, I For all my hope is dead, and oer Its grave I dream. Be blithe, be happy ; your warm heart Should never know the gloom of mine ; My life s serenest, fairest part Would darken thine. Be blithe, he happy, and when I Pass darkly to and unmourn’d grave, One tear, one sob that I should die Is all I crave. SELECT MI SC ELLA VY. Somebody’s Something. The levee was at its height. Mertie Favor stood, the centre of a merry, laughing groups, evidently the very life of it, the members of which were casting sharp nothings back and forth at | each other, in the most good-natured manner possible, when someone called out: “Miss Favor, do you propose atten ding school this winter ?” “Oh, yes,” answered Mertie. I’ve not outgrown the town-school yet.” “What do you think of the teacher ?” i was asked. “Not having the honor of his acquain tance, I’m not prepared to state, but I’ve no doubt, he is stupid enough ; our j teachers always are. ” i A burst of laughter greeted this rath | er sharp answer, and Mertie noticed that a most amused look lingered in tho eyes ! of a tall stranger, who stood near—after the general laugh had subsided. ] “What shall you study, Mert?”as j ked an old schoolmate, thinking to turn | the tide of conversation. ! “Oh ! I shall review my old study— | mischief—perhaps, and blank-books, if the teacher thinks me equal to anything ! more.” i Again a merry laugh, and the amused | look in the eyes of the stranger grew in jto a peculiar smile, as he turned and ; walked away. Mertie was used to being laughed at so she did not mind it much ; still she thought to herself, “that man looked at me queerly but she probably never would have thought of it ag;uu had not the schoolmate who questioned her in re gard to her studies, said— j “There—Mertie Favor—l never saw your equal—l gue3B you’ve done it now. ” j “Done what ?” asked Mertie in as tonishmeut, ” what have I done ?” “Why, got yourself into a pretty scrape by calling the teacher a ‘stupid,’ for that man with a long beard-*-tbat stood on your right—is Mr, Harrison, our teacher j for this winter.” “Oh, merciful !” exclaimed Mertie un- j der her breath, ‘ and he is looking right straight at me now. Why, he looked so sedate, I thought he must be a professor of something.” ‘ ‘And so he is ; the winter term of Broades Academy gives way to the town school and our committee have succeeded in engaging him for us. Here Mertie glanced across the room, and iu so doing encountered again * the eyes of Mr. Harrison, and she saw that they still held in their brown depths that look of amusement that she had before observed. “I’ll face the music if it kills me,” she thought, and as nsual, without stopping to take a second thought, she sprang lightly off the little platform on which she was standing with her companions, and much to their astonish meut walked directly across tho room, and in a mo ment stood directly in front of Harrison bravely confronting those merry eyes. Holding her hand out frankly, she said : “It was too bad for them to draw me out so, they knew I would say some thing abominable—l always do, but if you will excuse it, I will boa good girl all winter—if I can.” “Do not feel badly Miss Favor ; your remark was not very unjust, perhaps. | Schoolmasters arc apt to be stupid.” ( Mertie saw at once that ho meant to ! tease her a little, and as this was taking her on her own grounds, her courage rose, se she tried to look demurely but answered wickedly : < “I know it —but it is not always allowable to tell them so.” Evidently, Mr. Harrison was not offen ded at her answer, for he made room for her to sit down by him, saying : “Come tell mo something about the i school lam to commence so soon—are ! many of my future pupils like you— having the same studies ?” Mertie flushed warmly at this reference to her studies, but answered quickly : “Oh no! I’m not a specimen ; they are real splendid girls ; all of them ; I know you will like them. Good scholars, too aud study for the sake of knowingsome tliing. I wish I was more like them.” And Mertie sighed a little penitent sigh that would have been quite touching if she had not looked so witehingly roguish. Mr. Harrison was evidently pleased with iliis bright little specimen, for he kept her by his side for a long time, ques tioning herabout the schooland scholars, and the people generally, among whom he was to find his winter’s food. And as they parted for tho evening he pressed the little hand warmly, saying : “I shall expect to see you promptly at 9 o’clock Monday morning and I have no idea of finding you so deficient as you represent. ” “Oh but you will—l am sorry to say— father always called mo ‘Nobody’s Noth ing,’ and I assure you tho title is only too well earned.” Monday morning came round as Mon day mornings in November are apt to do —clear, cool aud frosty, but this did not prevent the school-room from being fil led to the brim with noisy boys and girls, aud the disturbance only became less when curly-headed Harry Frost came rushing in, shouting: “The schoolmaster is coming; get in to your seats everyone of you.” But a few of the elder ones lingered around the stove, Mertie among the rest and Mr. Harrison seeing her went to her at once, saying cordially: “I am glad to see one familar face among so many strange ones, though I trust they will all be familar soon.” Mertie welcomed him quietly—in troduced him to the scholars standing around, and after a few words of greet ing they all took ’ their seats and tho routine of school life began. It was not monotonous to Mertie, how ever, for Mr. Harrison evidently inten ded to know what ingredients were re -1 quired to compose a “Nobody’s Noth ; iug,” for ho lost no opportunity of being : with her and improving the acquaintance ! so queerly commenced. ' We will not say that it was designedly ; that Mr. Harrison spent so much time 1 on his other classes that he had no time !in school hours to explain difficult problems in Mertie’s geometry, and was ' obliged to put her off till evening when ! he would ‘ just step in and explain them all to her but the almost utter neglect of the poor geometry in the evening ! could not have been entirelv uninten | tional, for it generally lay open before them, as they sat side by side at the ta ble, and its queer figures seemed to ask for attention, but its cal'iß were unheed ded, as they talked on this or that author or discussed bits of travel, or poems which they read together. Mr. Harrison was more and more sur prised each day as tho mind of his pupil became unfolded to him. She read much and sensibly, which is a thing too seldom said of the yonng ladies of now a-days, and made it a special point to thoroughly understand everything that she read. It is not strange that all these quiet eve ni igs should bring them nearer to g t'ier than ordinarypupils and teachers and when the fourteen weeks of winter school began to draw to a close, Mr. Har rison often asked himself what he should do with his evenings, with no Mertie to help him to pass them. The question TERMS-TWO DOLLARS NI ADVANCE. came oftener aud oftener as the time of parting drew near, and he found it brought him positive pain. But she was young—only sixteen— and he—oh, dear 1 he almost wished that 1 ten years could bo clipped off his age, that he might be nearer a suitable com panion for his pet. He felt that she looked up to him as to an elder brother, for she called herself his little sister, and allowed him the quiet home familiarity that a brother has by right. He feared that by breaking iu upon this delusion and showing her the reality, he would frighten her away from him and never be able to win her back ; for the inter course of the winter evenings had brought him to love this true hearted little girl as only a strong heart can love, for though nearly thirty years of age Tie had never loved before. Examination was over. School had closed. Pupils and teacher had bidden each other adieu with one exception. As Mr. Harrison shook hands with Mer tie (as he did with the rest) he said in an undertone : “This is not a final farewell, I must see you this evening ; you will be at home ?” “Yes !” answered Mertie, and she tur ned away quickly, that he might not see her rising color, or hear the quick beat ing of her heart. She did not know what it meant—she did not dare to ask herself—all she knew was thatslie wanted to get away from him and every body else, and still the beating of her troublesome heart in the quiet of her own chamber. • Early that evening Mertie heard the well-known footsteps of Mr. Harrison iu the hall, and rose herself to open the cosy sitting-room door, for her father had gone to his office, and tho housekeeper was in her own room, aud as usual, Mertie was alone. For a time the con versation was upon ordinary topics, and then turned upon the close of the school and naturally upon the departure of the teacher. “Shall you miss mo ,nnv Mertie ?” he asked. “Oh. yes. We shall all miss you very much,” she answered. “You have been here so long, you seem like ono of us.” “I did not ask if ‘ we’ should miss me, Mertie, I asked if you would miss me when I am gone.” “Certainly I shall she answered : “who is going tj explain the clifficnlt pas sages in my new book, or get the wrong ideas out of my obstinate noddle ?” “And is this all you will care for me ? Oh. Meitie ! Mertie ! I had so hoped you would miss me more than this. Come here, child, and let me tell you how I shall miss you.” He drew hor to a seat besido him on the sofa, he told hor that in every hour, in every moment of his life, there would be an aching longing for her sweet pre sence ; that from that time forth, each act would be performed with a view to making himself worthy of the love he so fervently hoped to gain. “Tell me, Mertie,” he asked raising the tearful face to his, “can this be? Can the precious little sister give up her elder brother, and learn to love him with a different, a far different love ?” How her answer startled and chilled him. “No !” Low and soft—but clear the answer came—“ No.” “Mertie ! Mertie! You do not, cannot mean this, tell me you are trifling with me,” and the strong man trembled in every limb. She raised her face to his, and some how the look in her eyes quieted his ex citement, and he repeated moro calmly : “Tell me, did you mean no, Mertie ?" “Icannot tell you so,” she answered, “fori did mean it. You asked me if I could learn to love you with a deep, true love like yours,—l cannot learn—you have taught me already. ” And Mertie for the first time buried her blushing face on the broad shoulder of her teach er. Oh ! the inexpressible joy of that mo ment, when Ralph Harrison felt himself thrown up from the depths of sorrow to to heights of bliss. The precious treas ure was Iris own—his own—and he clas ped her to his breast, showering upon her tokens of his love, and thanking God for his great goodness to him Suddenly Mertie slipped from his arms and quickly smoothing her some what raffled hair said : “Father is coming, what will he say ?” “Come back here, Mertie, and I will explain it to him—as well now as ev er.” But Mertie’s courago was not equal to this, so she stood demurely by the ta ble when Mr. Favor entered. Mr. Har rison rose to greet him, and without giv ing him time to put into words, the ques tion he saw in his eyes, said at once: “I have a great favor to ask you,” and in spite of his earnestness, he could not keep from adding smilingly, “your only Favor, I believe, and I ask you to grant it to me.” “I am afraid I do not understand,” commenced Mr. Favor ; but Ralph soon explained all to his satisfaction, and ta king his darling Mertie by the hand, Mr. Favor said : “So ho! Then you want my ‘No body’s, Nothing,’ do you ? and what does she say, pray ?” Mertio gathered up all her courage, for it did take courage, I assure you, and lookihg up at her father she answer ed : “You have always called me* Nobody’s Nothing,’ and if you please, now, papa, I would; like to be, Somebody’s Some- : things.” “If my little one is pleased, I am j pleased too, so I grant you the Favor j you ask. Care for her tenderly ; she is j too young to go away from home now, ■ but by-and by you shall have her. In two years Mertie had finished her studies and taken her place at the head of her father’s establishment, which for years had been filled by a housekeeper. Then Mr. Harrison thought he might i claim the fulfillment of the promise made him on the last night of the school. Mr. Favor could object no longer, so one beautiful May morning, little “Nobody’s Nothing,” became “Somebody’s Some thing.” [journal correspondence] Bright Corner of Lincoln, / Domino Anni, 187 third, j Mistur White.— I rite this to you case I thinks no man should have a linger in de py unles he | shows his hand. It mout be clene and ! den again it moutent. Bargain and soil houses, trade men and traffickers have their silent partners who ar mere au tomatons, and don't say uoffin, but only walk up to the Captain’s office and set tles. But Editurs iz maid of sturner stuff, and stan on dar dignity. Dey liab de vantig groun and ar supposed to molde j publik erpinion, ter trabble roun luce on de public hiways, and to scatter broad cast ober de lan de seeds of deir matur ed wisdum. Day are de mirrors in which “we see our selves as odders see us.” Toe dem we looks fur good pict ures ov ourselves porlitickally speakin. Now I’m led into this morrillizing fruin dis sack : Sum time sence, Mr. White, you eume out in a flaming edito rial and sed that Mr. Roney had retird and dat in de futur de Jurnul wood be olitcdby Mr. Willis and yourself. He was put in de frunt rank, but whedder he was ter be de big or de little wheel we did not know. But dis is surtain and shoro, dat just as soon os it was known ter me dat Mr. Willis had mounted de tripod, I rites on, poneys up my two spondulix and thus am iuorgurated one of your numerous family of subscri bers. I inent by dis no deflection on you, kase you know dat you are sorter a kin der a stranger in dese parts—reglur ex hotic from de dominions of old Brown low and Andy Johnsing; while our old friend Mr. Willis is indiginous to dis sile, breathes the same breff, was rared at de feet of Toombs and Stevens, as his perlitieal Gabriels, whore he lamed per liticul hominy. I have knowed Mr. Willis—well, I won’t say how long—but memurry runs not back to de time wen I did not no him. We bofe once lived in Columby, but he minted to Tomsing and I ter sweet , Lincum. I was alters verry favurablly ; imprest wid him. He never was a pop -1 pinjay, fond of fine plumage, Baling ; about luce in false cullers, but was allers a reliabull, seusibull, outspoken gemman of. de ole scule, ceptin when he want a man of ripe judgement, and sais I when he got his consent ter run de role uv per litecule Edftur you may cunsidur me in to toiler his leade. No Ignis Fatue, no ballderdash, no hiferlutin will he rite ; but his paper will be sound tu de core, caze Mr. Willis’s head iz levil and his backbone strata. Wid all dese aspra tions in de asendent, you can imagine how I hav bin takin down and back when I looks in vane fur dat Sallulalory what has nebber yet cum. But cum it must or I shall go back on you Mister Jour dine White. I say you hadden’t orter raised publik exspectation. Do publik will hold you responsibull, dat is dey will require you to jog Mr. Willis’s memry and tell him its a duty ho oes to his blcding country to cume to her res cew in dis de our of her truble. He must not longer hide his life under a bushel, de pound, de yard or de glass (I’ll take sugar in mine). He must rise above dese little effemnrrencis of a day, and snatchin his tripod wid de power of Hajax “cri aloud and spare not. ” What is a one horse store in a one horse town cumpared to de glittering ermine, de ski blue cerulion, de purpul and fine lin nen of de chur editorial ? I would not exchange tho editur’s fur Stew arts pallas with marbul bilding, nor for Stewart himself with all his rino— dat is I mean dose editors what rites de big leaders. Now if a editur don’t rite, but jes Res to his partner “now you jes go on and I’ll stand to your back,” dey won’t do. Dey may hab a local habitation but no name and will at last die unwept, unhon ored and unsung. Now dis fato must not happen to our friend. Es his mod esty enjines his ritin, a bill of exsep shuns must he rite over a non de plumb, but rite he must. Tell him to go it strong —not on de feuse, but clear over on de rite side, and kere not a continental dam fur general grant and his hole crew, de reconstruction axe and do entire rump Congress. Advortising Ra.es. One square, first insertion $ 1 00 Each subsequent insertion 75 One square three months 10 00 Onesqaresix months 15 00 One square twelve months 20 00 One quarter column twelvemonths. 40 00 Half column six months 60 00 Half column twelve months 75 00 One column twelve months 125 00 irsT Ten lines or less emsidered a square All fractions of squares counted as squares He must be positive about Louisiana: and though our great and good Perlit ical Guide says de President is a sound man and don’t mene noffin rong, he must tribute dis to dat charity which workith wonderous. Grant’s got us where Holly had de hen, and dcre is no usekickin agin de pricks, and perhaps a little soft sod der may redound to our best interest, as | William Harp says “arter awhile.” Now, Gov. Jeemes Promise Smit is , going to have a big pow-wow over dat ! big Ditch, to be cut thro a heap of coun- I ties, Terrytories and States, and while i dey is diggin away at dis nonsense— Genl Grant’s bad treatment of de good people of Louisiana. Now, I want’s Mr. Willis to make his grand entree on dis sensashnm —but I dont mean a mere sensational article, but it should be a rouser—just such a article as he can write when de sperrits moves him. O, for de spent,s now! not com juee, nor gin, but dat odder sperits wich is pressed out of de brains of editors. I don’t knows I can spel de name—tis so long and difficult. It aint Tanglefoot, it aint ile of joy—it beats dem fluids to death. Jureka ! I got em. K-ko-e thes sk-r-i-b --e-n-d-i. Just give Mr Willis a small glass of this, sweetened wid de Constitution, an stired wid de Liberty Pole, and he'll give you such a Salutatory as willremind you of Trupe and the Trety. Now my only objection to de consideration of de topik of the Big ditch is dat it is a mere water gadderring on waiter wurks, and derofore, will only water de report. Dese Congressmen who axe to be washed in this pool of Silouru, have got de ex post facto pay and SSOOO, donated them by a Gift Congress, endorsed by a Gift Presi dent, makes dem feel sorter kind dis posed. Rut dat is needer here nor yonder. De Salutatory must take hi ground, and wage a war of abuse of Grant, Congress, salary grab and specially de obliteration of State lines, and de Louisiana troubles. An editorial on dis line and in dis spent, ritten in de vim and eclaw of Mr. Wil lis’s best, will add to de list of his many subscribers, and place de Jurnal at de hed of journalism. So mote it be ! Selali. Bullt. The Fate of Renegades. The Charlotte (N. C.) “Southern Home.” of which General D. H. Hill is the editor, comments in the following vry impressive manner on the recent ter rible murder of Genearl Canby. At the outbreak of the war in 1861 he deserted his own section and .cast his lot with their enemies. He seems to have won rank and reputation in the Federal ser vice, and was one of the six Brigadiers appointed in the regular army on the pence establishment. He was given com mand of the Department of the Caro lions, and carried out ruthlessly all the cruel measures of a remorseless Con gress. The war against his own land and people seemed to have destroyed all his nobler qualities, and to have trans formed him into the usual type of the re negade. A citizen of Charlotte was pres ent in Richmond when Gen. Canby per sonally superintended the hanging of a white man up by the thumbs for kicking an insolent negro out of his saloon. Jim Lane cut his own throat. Stan ton most likely conmmitted suicide. King drowned himself. One by one the oppressors of the South come to an un timely end. Some of the most atrooious are now covered with infamy worse than death. Is it accident or is it retribution? The histoiy of renegades is getting to be interesting. Mr. Lincoln deserted his own people, violated his conscience and stultified his oft-expressed opinions. He was foully and atrociously murdered, in the hour of his triumph. Gen. Thomas pledge hiself in Lynchburg, at the out break of the war, to stand by his neigh bors and kindred. Seduced by office, he fought against them. At the close of his brilliant military career a popinjay was put over him, and he dropped dead in San Francisco. Old Browalow was the strongest, pro-ela very man in all the South. But he cast in his lot with the Abolitionists, and persecuted his own people. He is now a paralytic and al most a drivelling idiot. Professor Ma han was an ardent Southerner, and could hardly find language wherewith to ex-, press his abhorrence of the disunion abolition party. He affiliated with that party during tho war, and became very bitter against his own seotion. ' He was sperseded when his work was done, and throw himself in the Hudson in the mad ness of his despair. Who would not rather be a crippled Confederate soldier, munching a crust of corn-bread, than poor Longstreet, the pet of Grant and the idol of the Louisiana thieves ? And now Richard the Third is said to have been a prohibitionist. “If he was not.,” says Spicer, “why did he stop King Henry’s bier ?” “I rise for information,” said a mem ber of the legislature. “I am very glad to hear it,” saida bystander,“for no one needs it more.” Our school boy remarks that when his teacher undertakes to “show him what is what,” he only finde out which 1b switch