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70 TURN WOLD, GA„ NOVEMBER 24, 1862. The Originals. In the last issue of The Countryman, the yankee teacher referred to at the close of the instalment of The Old Plantation for that issue, is Wm. H. Seward. In the instalment for this issue, all will recognize the Rev. Wm. Arnold as the original of the pastor of the country church. The camp-meeting orator finds his origi nal in Bishop Capers, when a young man. The picture of his eloquence is not over wrought. At an early age, he preached at the old Putnam camp-ground, where Dr. Johnson lived, and the effect of his elo quence was almost miraculous. It is related of Bossuet that on one oc casion, while preaching, so powerful was the effect of his oratory, that one fine flight of eloquenee brought his whole au dience, involuntarily, to their feet. It is certainly true, as stated in the poem, that the eloquence of Bishop Capers struck many of his hearers to the ground. On one occasion, while preaching at the Put nam camp ground, his subject was some of the passages in Revelation. He was pro- nouncing the woe pronounced in that book. Said he, in a voice all but omnipotent, after rousing his hearers to the highest pitch, “Woe ! woe ! woe unto the inhabitants of the earth !” As he denounced sin in suc cessive brilliant flights, he eaeh time wound up with “Woe! woe! woe unto the in habitants of the earth.” As I have said, the effect was almost miraculous. It. struck terror into every bosom, and apalled the stoutest heart. One poor fellow, a tailor, livingin Eatonton, became a raving maniac, fled to the woods, and cried in frenzied madness, “Woe! woe! woe unto the in habitants of the earth !” This is a passage in the life of Bishop Capers which has never had justice done it. I expected to find it fully developed in Wightman’s Life of Capers, hut was disappointed. Living at the spot which witnessed all the fiery eloquence of the youthful Capers, and among surviving old inhabitants who felt the power of that elo quence, I shall attempt, in some future number of The Countryman, to make an extended record of the whole matter. letter from Mrs. Poke. Mr. Countryman Josiph anlismade frens, and I nr got an eppintment. The uther day as I was a passm along by the x- ecutiv oflis, a gwine up towards the legisla tor rooms, f seed Josiph a standin by the dore of his offie, an he lookt as sorry, an >vo-begone, an penitenshal as ever you seed. THE COUNTRYMAN. I walkt rite on, an made out I didn’t see him : for you no I rit you that he an I hadn’t been on speakin tnrms sence Gus Kinion, an Jinkins an them tore me away frum him. As I was a passin on, Josiph sez, “ Good mornin, aunt Sally,” sez he, fa miliar, like he used to, and then he bust out a cryin. I was as sorry for the pore chile as I could be : but 1 didn’t let on like I was, but drawd myself up with dignity an sez, “ Good mornin Mr. Brown.” At that word Mr., Josiph cried wus an wus, for he x-pekted me to call him Josiph, familiar, jest like I used to : an I yearnt to do it, too : but when you hav a diffikilty with anybody, an they makes offers to make it up, hit aint best to kum into it too reddily : for ef you duz, they mite think you was beholden to 'em. So I korncluded to hold off, jest a leetle, an I dun it. I seed sumthinin the news papers tother day about Mr. McClellan cryin when Mr. Burnside kum to releeve him of Ins kum- mand on the Purtomuc, an they sed how the teers korsed down his classic feechers, an they rit a powerful -fctwdo about it. Now ef they had jest a seed the tears korsein down Josiph’s classic feechers, they wood never a lit ennything about Mr. McClellan, hut. wood a sent an artis all the way frum Nu Yawk, under a flag of trooce, jest to git a pictur of Josiph’s feechers fur ther illus trated jurnals. I tell you, they was sub lime. Josiph seed I was relentin, and axed me to walk in ; and so I walked in, and he started to sliet the core. Sez I, “ Josiph,” sez I, “ you mustn’t: that is nobody here but you an me : an hit mout creeS scandil.” Then the guvner sez, “ Aunt Sally, thar is no danger of scandil : my name’s Jo* siph : an I aint no Methodis neither.” An at this he smiled through his tears, like he tliort he had roe, in this insinewashun agin my dernominashun. But, I paid no atten- sliun to his insinewashun, an made out like 1 didn’t beer it, for I node thar was sum- times, occashunally, wunst in awhile, sum trooth in it, an its best sumtimes to ignore the trooth. Well I walkt in, as I was a sayin, an tuck my sect, an woodn’t allow the dore to he shet entirely , but left open a leetle crack for me to peep outen, for I’m always gwine to obsarve the proprieties of life. When I had got seated, Josiph he sot down by me, an sez, “ Aunt Sally,” sez he, “ I’m sorry I got mad with you the other day. But you ort not to blame me. I’ve tride so hard to hav an army under my kommand, so as I cood gain some military reputashun as well as otherwise, an this kornscrip biziness nocked my chance so hi, In this regard, that I coodn’t help gittin mad, sum, when you declared it kornstitu- slmnal, an espeshally when I had rit 500 yards, lackin a fue inches, agin it. As I was a sayin, aunt Sally, l got mad with you on this akkount, but I am now truly sorry for it, an axes your pardin. I fine I kant git along with the affars of the state without yore kounsel an advice.” Sayiit this, he boohood rite out, an stall ed to fling himself rite on my boosom. But I tole him I reckona he had better knot. Then I spoke up, and sez, “ Josiph,” sez I, “ you ortn’t to git mad with yore aunt Sal ly, no time : for what she duz, she duz it all for yore good. You must always re member that you cant git along with the affars of the state without yore aunt Sally : an espeshally is this so sence you hav korn cluded to depose yore kozzin Jeff, an assume the ranes of the koinfederit as well as the state guvuinment. Yore aunt Sally’s ad vice is more necessary to you now than ever.” “ But oh ! Lord,” sez Josiph, “ how ken I bar to lose the chance of winnin military reputashun, an hav no army under my kimman V’ At this I seed what was a workin on Josiph’s mine, an I node he was a cryin more on akkount of losin his gineral’s eppy- lets than he was on akkount of axin my pardon. But I didn’t let on that I seed his motives : for it is policy, sumtimes, to make out you don’t see things.—An about this time a blight idee struck me, an I sez— Sez I, “ Josiph,” sez 1, “ aint yon sent in a speslial messij to the legislatin' about cal- it out the merlishy to defen the koste agin yankee gun-botes 1” Sez he “ I is that.” “ Well,” sez I, ‘‘ ef you hadn’t got mad with yore aunt Sally, an had konsulted her on the suhjic afore you went off half-cock ed, I cood hav dijested a better plan for you than the one you have got on yore mine. I no it requires the stummock of an ostrich to dijest the merlishy, but your aunt Sally are addequit to the occaslnin.” At this Josiph britened up mitely, an ax ed me ef it war too late for my plan to work. I told him it war not. Sez I, “ you want an army : you want to call out the merlishy. Jest trust all that to me. Git rite stiate up, an rite a com- mishum, appintiti roe riiajor-gineral.” The guvnei hizitated a little, an I seed what wargoin on in his mine. So sez I, “ef you don’t do jest as I tell yon, I will forsake