Weekly Georgia telegraph. (Macon [Ga.]) 1858-1869, August 07, 1868, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Text* -*i i. ’•UVtfv » 7 7;.V^ r >•* * • ■ ” *. ' • wf , fc — m *1' ■■ ♦ • > ; „*A*. • ^ ■» ■«- .-- - * “. *i yjf V? i.toa ad tv ;, ->r 1 w:. j<> . { -.*jua««>\SwkU' e*«ftr jnutotiei 1 _ jgy & REID, Proprietors. S5W" la e Family Journal.—News—Politics—Literature—Agriculture—Domestic Affairs. GEORGIA TELE6RAKEE BEBEUING. •-.•'■■ ■ - - ' - 1 ; Ii ;; ’ •;•• \: •- .- <:?v4k?*r ', '• MACON, FRIDAY, AUGUST 7, 1868. VOL. XLII.-M 42. onto A SIEOE Or GBA.NAVA. BV JOHJf V. SHORTER. lofslera resistance the Moor bath vainly ^‘rtfore the Spanish cross his strongholds : i r. laid. i ' •• J, f rs t. then Ronds, deep seated 'mid the '■',1 for frails and meadows green, refreshed ■ ,any rills— tie grain waves on her plain, her gardens ' •■'i-ine. , , .. iesd ’neath the foeman’s tread, yields not r.Kneroas wine; once so beaatiful, with groves and gardens .Sure was went to lisp his praise, the wild ”, . ikthi, lair— Ion? since parched and dry, are strewn '•horispen leaves; ^5eln the Summer air, where onee were tiny y-i'e swan no longer Sets its limpid stream on ■‘i yiiings the cool spray upon the flowers iinkas tailed in the skulls of Moor and Chris* Via «]tio. , 'y in death lie face to face, bleaching 'neath -V.J rain : jtr-famed Salohrena, where royal treasures ti/ejuntain fastnesses defied the Christian IriKsi of the valleys rich, extending from the . ! ,=flro power in the world could west thy Mfth from thee— £wian’s steed Is in thy stall, his warriors man maidens list to love within thy fra- • ’ .wers— iron thy fate let warrior brave and proudest •itrUlnr fo'rt J,howover strong, their virtue how- e'eiitern. ^ ttrouh the mountain defiles to wards! Granada Ckriit fih armies wind their way, before Granada : ciays spear and scimetar the morning sun is ibiieinR nsny a steed in gold arrayed, with martial iWlirfand first in command, then followed brave Tendilla, M. Urena, and Alonso de Aguilar. •i pavilions soon are spread. Seel Castile s J> arc Hying ;led hues of blue and red, in varied splendor icing. ■ :catb Granada’s very walls the Christian army issrets and battlcmentsshone in the dying day; jiet reigns within her halls, still as foreboding •dtbg t heavy floats above her towers the banners of :« faith; war* days hare grown to weeks, the weeks to amths again. g., /■,, r December finds Castile still camped upon tbe cioie within his fated walls the Moslem’s hour Uteome, " ' •■*’”**' •tojrr •itionee. faithful Christian knights, thy work is wsrivdone. irt thy hearts, Granada, but valor ill supplies mm of life’s exhausted tide when pinching inine cries: arks arc pale, thy arms are frail, thy children ny for bread; •rels a sacrifice for food, thy gallant steeds are lead. i..ke grave Abut Cezim, “’Iwere rain to suffer W*— '-i't •• f ivUMLj JWhiL. ace now is useless, exhausted is our store. i ao fate, however dread, a warrior may not niers, wives and children here have claims ;; i a our earo.l’ . wth* chiefs have gathered their ill-starred voarch round, : ;i,arc red with weeping, their looks bent on it ground; ' re'." they cry, Granada! thy empire is un- fcw. “ . * 1 (iristian monarch, Perdinand, reigns on the 3»!«ai throne.” - * tiff among her warriors, fierce Mnsa ill could »t>k if B*rii of deepest sorrow, their sad despairing l’nrs.” said he, “to women: the drops that we k«M shed , liitker on our seimetars, and should be drops Wood; ►a^henyour sacred homes, abandon then your in you will, but know forme there’s honor still UMath!” . ' £ die emncil chamber, moved silent through 4« tills. 1 nil his favorite charger, and left Granada s tlUt; A upon his city, one look—he dared no more— tare the steel deep in the flank and rushing im the foe. 'e.a the datk Alhambra the morning beams re nal > a'i victorious soldiery - the white cross of Cas- ilt; -•». winding up the mountain the Moorish exiles a,Tfrl .» rv >- -*t had reached the latest height, in view of all , a«f laved, „ they pause for one last look, yet not a word •uipoke, Sindlonly Castile’s lombsrds the awful silence take. wrer had Granada till then appeared so bright, iitwets and towers bathed in rich morning light: , . ne'er so beautiful, though whitened with the tlain, niaritains shone like emeralds set in a golden Atm. ilil. until then unmoved, had heard gaunt tammescry, heard tint through the Spanish camp their ihoutsorvietoty, swuhis son acaptive, led in the Christian train, sliin 10 ,h * coa ®' ct Eeen bis bravest warriors ta’Jjilllhfd deep to the dregs his cup of bit— ai.iar 1- call the place, '‘The last sigh ■ ;, eli: farewell 1 Granada. Farewell! Alhambra - t tseft feci a stranger’s tread, a stranger’s lan- suge leans: ■ta ear freedom and our faith we battled long Wtli— »il r 0Ur -* 0! *' ® rana da. home, farc- July, 1n>7. ___ ""Etin Orleam Time*.'] clxrAiGX soxtr. TRILit SNO TRIF. in. fall in. a nation cries , l Mo her sons for eld, 19 ■* ,»11 the rights that freedmen j>nze. A}' depots now betrayed. ' *»• witchfires burn on every height, •he thunder shakes the air, *1, ; t v i ".iniilions marching on to fight i 'r Seymour and for Blair. Come, tried and true, Both gray and blue. A r . Together side by siae, 'Cited in one common cause,'V ' * r white men’s rights and honest laws. Ob. who can stem the tidg.' f • > } up, close up, the serried lines. . urant'a roigu is o'er: *¥• >-’!aiirgnn our banner shines, far lender’s name, Seymour. 'O ; o!i4> «. uark. tho signal for the fray, «.•' w ring! upon the air: ' . } ‘ "s tr.ow it. on our con<tuering way,' 'Vi. tae tugle notes of Blaif..v„ ' . i * trlbdy.-* * > Come, tried and true, etc. - ,n. t' iinrch on. Caucassian blood, ‘ i-c *1 ha« blanehe'l before HjWnidy and barbaric flood -tuatflons from Allie s shore. . -jt ’ i. * •API ever c iurse the ruling tide.'' 1 arms have nerved to bare. w South and North fight side by side, ■ ey mour aud for Blair. Come, tried and true, etc. * ” * _ | - “ i ‘‘A Air Like Railhojid.—The Legislature - ■''i;l have no more important measures this session than tbe oua introduced day ■jksterday to assist in building the Air Line .' i - It will open up a part of our State— Georgia—as did the State road Nortb- 73 Georgia. A a till* road runs parallel with ■^-‘'■•.ahoochee river tor a number of miles, It .‘ " c taii rich grain region a market close at . ■ " iil make tbe mines at Dahlonega con- J ' and open up a country Just aa valuable J. 1 * the State. j."' 4 ’bis, it is a connecting line that will give u.^ e -iterally irom New Orleans to Now York >:,» , : ,ie trade and travel that now goes J 3 1 mneasee, through Georgia. It will in- -a i alue of land aloug the lute of this road, 7, deployment to hundreds of our citizens. , = built at once. No one can doubt that it -ufJW’nely repay our State lor any benefit re s' 1 ’ increasing the value ot our taxable pro- ' "■iiMiitij Intelligencer. ■ih^f S^oht.—Old Beacon Sharp used to ee- ? tor y: He was- standing ana-day beside a V f 3 lntl »»w a large garter snake make an at- u^Mieoormnu* Vnll frog. 'The,snake of fhe frog’s hind legs, and the (rog. to. u/KjWi bis satkeahlp, caught him by the h,..?V l u com men cod rwafi awing one'anotber s was left of them. , JOURNAL OF APOOR MUSICIAN. 1 >. X r.** ^ L0VE scene. From Putnam for Augtut.} , . June 4</i. .* * * This afternoon we had a sailing-party. Miss Estelle sat apart from me, but she kept me always in the circle of the conversation, and drew me out of my habitual reserve into dis cussion and description. She sang, too, on the water, the song I asked for; but tbe Colonel was at her side, and took eag er care of her. Once, in wrapping her shawl about her, he touched her hair— only a touch, but it maddened me. For a short moment I wanted to get down un- derthe water—anywhere, anywhere, where his happiness would be neither visible nor audible. Thanks to a muscular pride, however, I wore a most serene Exterior. In the early twilight this evening, while the others still lingered on the piazza, Miss Estelle decoyed me into the parlor, and, pointing to the piano, said, “In this hour, of all others, I enjoy music; don’t refuse me.” I gladly obeyed the gracious bidding of my young hostess, for my fin gers craved the white keys which alone couhl liberate my imprisoned spirit. So, while the sunset-light played triumphant ly with early shadows through the room, I seated myself at the piano, and many were the confidences I gave my beloved instrument which no mortal ear might hear. When I began to play, I noticed that Miss, Estelle seated herself in the al cove of a window near. Afterward, as I raised my eyes, I saw that another had joined her; but even with the glance came a fierce resolve. “He- shall not hold her,” it said. Undoubtedly superb eyes, mellow tones, graceful gestures, and a bullet-laden arm made an impiressive tout ensemble; but I, who have none of these, do yet possess a power that he knows nothing of, and through it I will draw her from his side to mine like a magnet. And now my theme suddenly changed. Through a network of harmo nies, ravishingly sweet, startlingly ques tioning, I modulated into a wordless song, every note of which, as it dropped from ruy fingers, carried a drop of life-blood with it. I knew that no sound was lost to her exquisite sensitiveness, and . that she was throbbing under the mysterious influence. Another moment, aud she rose, took a seat somewhat nearer, and dropped her head in her hand. The song flowed on, but now- it took another form —became wild, almost defiant, yet always imploring. Closer and closer she came, leaving.with every step her handsome ad mirer further behind her—she the bird, I the serpent, and a very devil under the serpent-skin, If I were doomed to be her slave, I would not lose my freedom for nothing. I kept my eyes on the keys j:m\\ and did not know she was so near, till a faint perfume of violet (for she always had Violet about her—oh! the subtle, be wildering power of odor-association 1) first announced my closer presence. This per fume, which is so a part of her, sent to my pulses a mingled thrill of hli£3 and anguish. For an instant I was dizzy, but the instant over, I felt a keener force than before. Yes, I had triumphed, had drawn her to my side, and, knowing I had the power to move her, I gloried in exer cising it. The wild, mystic spirit of the Teutonic legends entered into me; now lambent flames leaped and played among the notes; now I was whirling on in the bewildering revelry of the dizzy waltz— my: arm about her, bearing her on with me in • the dreamy maze. She was mine —mine now—so near that her hair stir red with my breath, and I need only whisper to be heard. But suddenly she melted from my arms, and, with a mock ing laugh, vanished. Then I became mad, despairing; and yet—and yet, I knew it was all out a. dream, for I saw her step nearer, and heard the rustle of her dress at my side. With a sudden impulse she drew my hand from the keys, and said, in quick, faint accents, “I beg you to stop; you are restlessnnd hitter. Your music makes me so unhappy. I cannot bear it.” That touch! soft as the fall of dew; a helpless, appealing touch: but it thrilled to the quick. I turned from the piano. “Since you will not permit me to continue,” I said, “and the cry is still for music, you must sing. But you must play your own accompaniments this time, and make no mistakes. I am in a criti cal mood/’ An instant since, and she was soft and imploring; now she was gay and defiant. With a mocking reply, she' seated herself at the piano, while I crawl ed into the jecess of a window near. Af ter singing two or three ballads, .-lie modulated into the key of Arbenml, and sung that divinest of love-songs, that very' epitome of all heart-inspiration, Schu mann’s “Wulntung.” At first the music awoke in me only a keen .’deflation; hut it was the misgiving of a renewed faith. On the wings of hex- heavenlv: tpnes I soared into an atmosphere-whose very breath was spiritual intoxication'-- All pangs, all doubts, all despairs, were now but mocking shaprs, and the divine ideal- became a fact to my innermost conviction. Ah, can woman love as she enn/j she could? With the last impassioned phrase, “Mein hesseres ich!” I crept through the window into the still garden, for I, was in no mood- now for commonplaces. The night was radiant. The moonlight filled the air, with qn ethereal lustre; the faint murmur of the water—an endless minor note—came up through the de$p quiet, and the flowers sent perfumed words on swift wings to every heart that could translate the language. I wandered to a summer-house near the bank, and seated myself within. I do not know how long I remained there, for I had been lost in thought; but suddenly I heard the sound of voices. It died away,‘then grew clearer as the speakers grew nearer. Suddenly they turned the curve by the summer house, and stood a moment by the door, though the low hanging branch es almost screened them from view. Then a voice, whose deep tones were un mistakable, said, “No, no, Estelle; you are not to blame—you have known me long, and loved the as a brother, and I was a fool to.expect anything else; hut impetuously, “ You must answer me one j treacherous step, and chilled like the question: Do you love another? Tell touch of a sly foe—a_guerilla^ wind, that me—you mutt." She- did not reply at first, and the silence stung him. ‘f You shall not leave here,” he added, passion ately, “until you answer me this.” Then she said, quickly, “ Kobert, you have no right .to aay ‘shall’ to me.. Let go my hand; you hurt me. We ought to go in; it hi getting damp, and I am chilly.” “Yes,” he replied, in scornful accents, “I see you are trembling. My suspicions were right, then; you have become enam ored of the pale-faced Dutchman. You, with your name and position, w;ould give yourself to a poor musician—a foreigner, for aught you know an adventurer—a—” But something in her look Btopped him, and she replied, “ Mr Ehrthal is a noble man, and a gentleman, and worthy of the true love of any true woman. At pres ent he is our guest, and any disrespect to him is incivility to me.” Her voice was low, but it cut the air with its clear tones, She moved on; he followed with an eager movement, and said something, but I aid not catch the words. I was startled by what I had heard. I came quietly up to my room, hut not to sleep, for thoughts and feelings were never more awake. June 5th—The Colonel left this morn ing. Mrs. L gave a lunch to-day to a few invited neighbors, and I had my part to perform towards the entertainment of her guests. I suited myself to my audi ence, and gave them light, but good mu sic. And after all, what is the meaning of this sanctimonious horror of light mu sic among the so-called recherche connois seurs ! Do we despise the sparkle of wit and humor?—the exuberant good-nature of animal life? Some merely frisky mu sic is delightful. There is an affluence of joy in mere existence. Nature herself is fujl of sport, and why should we despise this phase of her life in its expression through Tone? This afternoon, as I was sitting under the vine-shade of the south ern piazza, reading, Miss Estelle and a young friend of hers, a neighbor, seated themselves at a window near. I could see them, but the luxuriant vine hid me from view. I continued reading dreami ly to the indistinct murmer of their voices, when, suddenly, I caught my name utter ed by her lips. Was it weakness that I stopped tolisten ? “ His first name is Her man. He is fall of genius, hut he will never he popularhe is too highminded and modest.”- “Modest?” said the other voice. “ Why, there is a hauteur in his look and manner that makes me afraid of him; and then, what a veiled fire there is in his eye! I know he has a bad temper.” Miss Estelle laughed. “Now, I> find his eyes very beautiful, and the proud car riage of his head I particularly admire. He is not handsome, however—something better—noble-looking.” .Here I rose; I had been eavesdropper long enough. I came up to my room directly, aud stud ied myself in the mirror. I was in excel lent spirits, and contemplated mvself more favorably than ever before. I have found some favor in her eyes, then! “Not handsome—something better—noble-look ing.” Pleasant words to sleep on. June 6th.—Another day to record; but not too quick, oh, my eager pen ! After an early tea this afternoon, Miss Estelle and I went for a sunset-walk; but when we reached the water, we were tempted to have a sail instead. In a moment we were off-shore. A soft breeze caught the sail, and carried us tranquilly on’ as if hound for the radiant horizon perspective beyond. Miss Estelle leaned over the side of the boat, and drew her hand through the water. “I wish I could catch that light,” she said. *Why can’t we ev er have anything we .want?” I laughed somewhat scornfully. “Why need you want anything? A spoiled child, that has been fed on luxuries, never knew for an instant the pangs of poverty, loneli ness, distrust, temptation. And yet you sigh that the very sunbeams should evade your grasp ?” “The spoiled child is weary of being pampered and never truly fed. Do you think she is never hungry for deeper satisfactions?” “Yes, .deeper sat isfactions i” I said; “to be mistress of a palace all her own; to look abroad on fair lands, aud say, 1 These are mine.’ In short, to wed a millionaire and be borne abroad in the finest ‘establishment’ in the country. A happy life, indeed! all suc cess to her.” 8ha turned upon me a flashing glance. “So you think that my highest aspiration? Well, you have an aspiration quite as unworthy. Under your modest demeanor you conceal a pro found superiority.-v A millionaire feels no greater vanity in his palace, than you in the very unpopularity of your position.” I had stung her, and she turned on me. She was like a young leopardess aroused now, and I liked to study her under the spotted skin. I made no reply, but as sumed an air of alarming recklessness, pulled my cap over my brow in true ban dit style, set my. “fiery” eyes into a sig nificant stare, and informed her, coolly, that I had brought her on the water for the express purpose of drowning her. “\ou see, I have the rudder,” I added, “and you are at my mercy. I am very strong, and it is such a delight to exercise power.” She caught my defiant mood, and, affect ing a little mienof mock bravery, declared herself a match for any enemy. She looked now like a thing made out of fire, so spark ling; so wilful! And yet I knew how de pendent she was upon me. I glanced from the spirited face to the tender form, the soft hands'; then at mv own athletic arms; and laughed, Then I gazed into the dis tant horizon, and wished that my haven mig ht ever bethere, so I bad her quite to myself. Heavens! as I turned, I caught her eyes fixed upon me with an intensity that sent my blood in fiery pulses through my veins. A mad longing interpreted the look to suit its own need, but there was no time for hope to become certainty. Again I gazed into the distant sky, And mocked at the wild hope of a moment before. Even as I looked, Nature was rapidly changing her aspect A little doud that hovered in the east as we left, had how swollen to a full size, and led a train of hnrrying companions across the icnith. A coldj suspicious wind ciept seemed at times to hide itself that it might at last, all the better, take you unawares. A weird gloom stole on. The lines of the surrounding shores faded gradually away, and out from the lonely deep of the far horizon a single pitch of pale, lamher light, cast a melancholy glimmer oyer the gray water. The clouds now gtthered thicker and darker, and under their cover, the guerilla wind finally aimed its, blow, lashed the sail heavily, and thrnv the water against the boat with an angry mo tion that growled low as it spent- ifeelf. I took in the sail partly, and held fart; then turned to my companion: “TVell; this is sudden; are you much startled?’, . “Oh, no, indeed!” was the reply; ‘.'there is something splendid in the commotion. only I hope it won’t rain, for just think of my new dress I” “ Sad, indeed,’’ I said; “but accept the possibility of something even more -tragic—a hurricane, tom sail, broken boat, an’d the pathetic finale of two bodies drifted ashore ‘in the morning light as the tide went down.’” She laugh ed. “How touching! Who would be worthy to write the epitaph?” The wind calmed itself suddenly now, but the air was still penetrating, and I noticed that my companion drew her mantle about her with an eager movement. ‘ I slipped off my coat ana threw it to her. She yould not accept it. . I had drawn in th<j sail, and had fastened it well, intendiig to scud to shore. My hands were free now, and I resolved to have my own way. I put my coat about her. As I did so,I felt that the “ new dress,” alas! had met with the dreaded fate; it was quite drenphed A longing pity seized me. “How sweet,’’ thought I, “could my arms be her shelter from the coarse wind! my heart .her warmth in the gloomy chill!” I am usually king’of my impulses, but ther* are moments in life fraught with a signifi cance so appealing that we are thrilled, possessed, conquered. The soul neiher thinks nor reasons; only lives, defies fate and circumstances, and quenches a life time thirst in draughts of-joy that come perhaps but once this Bide of the grave. How did it happen? I do not knoV. I only know that I meant simply to ivrap my coat about her; but the coat dropped from my hand, for our eyes met in a kin dred glow, and the lips joined in thi first sacred wedlock of true mates sanctoned at the Invisible Altar. A superb moment, that grasped in its flight the bliss *f an gels ! Tne storm, which had been bit the passage of wind-burthened cloud?, died away as suddenly as it came, aid we drifted calmly with the tide towardi home. The house is closed now, and through the window I catch only the heaving murmur of the wind and waves. I do not woo sleep. Sleep is a thief, who would rob me of a consciousness which I am loth to part with. . How a Girl under Eighteen Procured a Husband. It seems to be. generally admitted that love laughs at locksmiths, and occasional ly we find an illustration that it can even overcome obstacles of a more embarassing character than can be created by merely keys and locks, and of this we furnish a case in point. A very pleasing young couple arrived at the Everett House yesterday from Illi nois. It was apparent they ware lovers, and it soon became evident they wanted to get married. The Clerk polietiy in quired if two rooms were required, and the young man replied in the negative, saying they expected to be married during the day. Shortly after' arrival they started out upon a tour of inquiry. Led by a rural instinct they first repaired to the Court House, hilt not finding any facilities among tho leather-headed offi cials there for consummating a marriage, they returned to the hotel and consulted the courteous Clerk. H§ recommended them to procure the services of a Justice of the Peace, and consequently Justice Jecko was sent for. He was promptly on hand. The young man drew him aside and said he was greec at the “business,” and wanted the Justice’s advice. '7, “What’s the matter!” said Jecko, “ar you not of age ?” - “I am old enough,” said the young man, “but. the girl.” It was then ascer tained that the young lady was under eighteen and the Justice declined to pro ceed. This placed the young people in a seri ous dilemma, and the: revolved the mat ter deeply and finally hit upoti a happy expedient. The number 18.was clipped from a newspaper of that day of the month, and the piece of paper was placed in the young girl’s shoe, and being under her pretty little loot, she might with a sinl here he paused, and then added, suddenly over the water, with a noiseless Justice Lawrence. That big and bearded functionary duly arrived and expressed readiness, to proceed’with', the ceremony. His questions were answered satisfactorily and the marriage was consummated and the happy two becanjt a-happier,one, and the sole objection was removed. Their names were Mr.fJ. ; McKibben and Miss Loretta Alimony botji of Marion county^ Ill. The young lady we understand, is quite wealthy, and both are respectably connected.' They appeared deeply attached to one another and no doubt , have a sun ny future before them. . ■. The little trick practised upon the Squire is not a new one, and, however, it may be viewed under such circumstances, it is easily forgiven. As the recording angel writes down the deception he no doubt washes it out with a tear, if that serene sei»ph has any heart at all. We hope the young couple will always be as happy as they ap: ‘ i;o; ftp “ General Early, late C. S. A., is fre quently, visible in the Clifton House; to which he drives in from bis residence at Drummonds ville, a town a mile and a half distant. He likes to meet and converse with guests “hail ing” froth ' the South. He Is yay hitter in his oppotiiida to Grant tov President. He says Grant has, or had ro ability at alias a General, and has no civil capacity to fill the •cttfice for which he ha* been nominated, - m AN ENGLISH SHOW. To plain Americans who value home comforts more than public confusion, and who love liberty more than they love mon archy, the following from Harper’s Ba zar, giving an account of the ceremony of presentation to the Queen, will be amus ing: To be presented to the Queen is the boast of English women and men. The presentation rooms are on the second sto ry, and occupy the entire quadrangle of St. James’ Palace, opening one into an other through the whole suite!. About six levees are held a year. It takes a hundred men three weeks to pre pare the rooms. Everything is measured by the inexorable law of etiquette. The dress is prescribed: the material, the length of trains, the mode of dressing the hair, and the style of the garments. The doors would be shut in the face of the highest lady in the land if she departed in the slightest degree from the well- known law. The dress of the ladies must be velvet, satin, silk, lace or tulle. Brides are allowed to wear white tulle, and wid ows black tulle; but each must be trim med with roses or variegated ribbons, Peers, embassadors and military officers wear their full uniform. Judges wear wigs, and lawyers appear in gowns of scar let and black, according to their rank: Bishops and clergy who have the run of the Court, come out in full clerical cos tume. The Court dress of the “gentle men ” is a black dress coat and pants, and white vest, which must he open, and.white cravat. The Master of Ceremonies pre scribes the order for dressing the hair. Court hair dressers are few. They are engaged not only hours, but days before the Presentation, and do their sleeping in a sitting posture. . '-srn l,n. '■;lait*; The Throne Room is £ ? right royal room. There is not a Seat in it except the throne and the gilded chair at the foot. On a platform reached by three steps, and on a crimson carpet spattered with gold, stands a gilt Gothic chair sur mounted by a cross. This is the Thr one. It is covered with a canopy of crimson velvet, trimined with heavy golden lace. On the top of the canopy is a golden cushion, on which rests a large golden crown. The Throne Room is veiy long, nearly two hundred feet. Running the whole length is a heavy iron fence, full five feet high, capped with crimson velvet. Between it and the wall is a narrow pas sage leading from the entrance to : the Throne, through which but one person can pass at a time. The great throng be low, at a given signal, come up the stair way, which is covered with cocoa mat ting and worn crimson carpeting. They enter the great Audience Room that opens into the Throne Room. The Audience Room is very gorgeous with satin hangings, radiant with;Vennil- lion and gold, hut it is all cut up into little cattle-pens, made of iron railings, very high and strong. They open one into another the whole length of the great chamber, making zigzag passages from the entrance to the Throne Room. These pens are separated by heavy iron gates guarded by officials, through -whicli each , person has to pass. Precedence is everything.-— When the signal is given below, then the rush commences. The fine ladies become a disorderly mob. They crowd on each other, rend laces, trample velvets and sa tins under foot; and .with all these guards Democratio Mass Meeting at Houston. CABFEI- to keep them orderly, they often appeal! in the “Presence,” as it is called, all tat tered and torn, and in a state of general dilapidation. Back of the Throne is the Queen’s Closet. It is a dilapidated-looking room, low studded, scanty furnished; but old; which is the gratest attraction. Her ma jesty is painfully prompt. At the exact moment she comes out of her Royal Clos et and takes her stand on the lower step of the Throne. On the signal being given, Her Majesty’s Ministers, with, the Foreign Embassadors, enter from the pri vate door file singly before the Queen, bow, and take their seats in the centre of the room, where they rerrain. The crowd is addmitted one by one, passing through all the pens till they appr oach the ^litone. To manage the trians is no easy matter. Lessons are given in this art- as on horse back riding, each lady has to take care of her train herself. She throws it over her arm, and in the carriage the huge pile towers over her head. She carries it up tlie stairway to the Audience Room. Here a “page of the Prince,” as he is called, takes the train, holds it till she enters the Throne Room, when he drops it. The party passes up the narrow path way to the place where the Queen stands, makes low bow, and then backs down the certain truthfulness say she was oyer , v h 0 ] e kngth’of the room. The lady can- eighteen. I he nextstep w«s toyynd for nol turn jjg r back on the Queen, nor take up her train.j*|i;.is.etiqiiettefqr the Mm?, isters- alid Embassadors,-, who occupy the centre of the room ;to lift, the trapi anti, iass it from one to another while the lady racks down to fhe door. The moment she gets .-^utside of- th^Throne' Rooffi she iptigt tqliek' care of herself. and ,reach f Her * carriage as best she can. She cannot re main. A strong iron bar prevents her from repeating the. luxury of presentation. She draws ; her finery through the crowd aid disappears; and finds her coach-where she can, vmch’inay be half a mile offj for the' coaches.jof.the nobility take prece dence. The presentation lasts about one infinite.'- It costs months ofilebbr and an xiety, and great expence. The finery will be worn' on no other occasion.-^ ButThe party has beat “presented at'Court^’ .and wrill Ml I If In liar /-liil/lwin'fl children.— A NEGROS OPINION OP THE On the 19th ult., a rousing Democratic mass meeting was held at Houston, Texas. Among the speakers were several colored men, from whom we quote as fol lows : : Isaac Neal, freedman, was then intro- dued to the meeting by the President.— He was happy, inasmuch in relating his experience and in his similitudes and comparisons. He said he had been a lone time studying ■ in his mind to find out what the “carpet-sackers” wanted, and why they were such great friends of * the colored, man. -He al ways knew they wanted office, but their principal business was to “sack the niggers.” [Cheers.] They had come a long way to steal from the freedmen, but he thought they would find that it didn’t pay in the end. [Cheers.] They had got the last dollar they would ever get out of his pocket, and that some of them had better take care or they would get more than they bargained for. [Cheers.] His mind was made up on the point of their friendship. It was dangerous for a freedman to lie down at night where the carpet-sackers were, for just as likely as not he would wake up in the morning with his throat cut, and have it laid on his old Southern friends, [cheers,] or have his horse stolen and he afoot; and then it would be difficult to tell who bad bis horse until he looked around and saw one of the carpet-sackers missing. [Cheers.] He said not long ago the freedmen raised 81200 and gave it to the carpet-sack bu reau men to buy an organ for their church, but the first thing they knew the man, the money and the organ all came up missing, [Cheers.] Hesupposed the fellow had got money enough, and was safely up there, North, selling whisky at some cross roads on the freedmen’s capi tal. [Cheers.] He said that the war had not begun to free the slaves, and that when, in 1862, the rebels were whipping the fight rapid ly, Mr. Lincoln offered to settle the ques tion on the principles of the Union as it was, and that if Mr. Davis had accepted the offer the niggers never would have been free. [Cheers.] They needn’t tell him about the war having been got up to free the slaves, for it was just as much Jeff. Davis who freed the negroes as it was Mr. Lincoln. Now just think, said this black man, What our condition would have been had Mr. Davis done aa Mr. Lincoln wanted him to do, two years after the war had begun! The carpet-sackers were all the time urging the negroes to acts of hostility and getting them into difficulties, he supposed for the purpose of sending stories North about how bad the freedmen were treated by the whites; but that every time the negroes got into difficulties, the carpet- sackers would keep out of danger, and huRt their hbles like rats. 1 [Cheers.] There is no fight in the carpet-sackers; they want to sack everybody, and fight no body ; ■ and 'just as long as they can steal from the freedmen, they won’t fight. [Cheers.] : r rickvii About the Southern people wanting to enslave the negroes again, the speaker said it was all stuff. Before the war a negro was hired out to planters at $250 for the year, and furnished medicines and a doctor when he was sick, but that now a planter could hire hands for 810 per month, no medicine, no doctor furnished, and no care on their hands when the freedman was sick.. Under these circum stances the Southern man didn’t want tiny more slavery in his. / [Cheers; and no; no, no!] Love, (colored) said he, had traveled a great deal, had been all over the North before and since the war. In no instance in the free States had he seen social and political equality enjoyed by the col ored people; even colored servants were not to be found;in the Northern hotels. He had gone as a servant to a distinguish ed Southern man in his Northern travels. In all instances he was shoved into some out-house, back kitchen or stable, and never allowed one-tenth as much liberty as in the South, or treated with one-tenth the consideration.-He heard the land lord of the Fifth Avenue Hotel tell his employer that his house was not kept for negroes, and that he could look for some other house unless his servant could put up with what was given him at the back door. Love said the Northern Radicals were not sincere nor honest in their talk about the equality of races; that they wanted to force it on the paople of the South for base politieal purposes.' He, cited many instances to prove that their precepts and. practices, were at dagger^’ points with each other. In all the riots at the North the whites had made common .\fturWth6).n^6». w He didn’t want ; to see the colored people further deceived about this matter; lie wanted them to know who were their friends; who under stood their wants, necessities and require ments ; who wanted their labor and were willing to pay for it ; with whom they had to live. He wanted them, to aban don the idea.of the equality of races, un til by their, conduct- they had ^proven themselves entitled to consideration, to social and political equality. He con cluded by urtiing the *coloied people to remain neutral, to take iio part in poli tics; but if they supported any party, to let it be the Democratic party. Secret art Sxwa&d’s P6ernox:—The N«w York correspondent of the Philadelphia When the Queen holds Court it.laats just one hour exactly. During the whole time she stands like a statute, as cold as insen sible. She neither bows nor speaks. The mass file before her as if she were hewn out of the stone. >»- pr There are more Methodists in Qhio than in any other State, more Baptists in Georgia, more Preabjtanam iaPeonerivania, more Congregationaliats is BJaMacnusetts, jnbfeTrotestant Episcopalians' in New York;- and ten timee niOre Uaftar a — - REMARKABLE UiBqOYERY, Arrest of Beeay 1st 8>ead and firing - Ca'-/ ; . Matter, * JmNmSp v * » • • . Jtn _ x**—t From tie Xeu York Ounmercioi Advertieer.} The simultaneous experiments of scien tific men in various countries, for the dis covery of the best means for embalming human bodies and arresting the progress of decay, have already produced favors-' ble results that promise still more satis factory discoveries in the future. The subject seems to have been first brought prominently before tbe attention of the modem world during the civil war, un der the instincts of natural affection, for the preservation of the bodies'of oar sol- ' diers, pending- their transportation , to points where relatives and friends could bestow upon them the last sad offices of duty and affection. In most- cases only immediate or temporary results were looked for or expected. A process that would arrest decomposition. for a few weeks or months was all that was at tempted. A revival of the old Egyptian system that would preserve the bodies for centuries, was scarcely thought of. But the results attained stimulated scien tific research,' arid there is now a proba bility that means may be discovered for the preservation, of human bodies from decay that will prove more effective, sim ple and durable than the old Egyptian process of embalming. Experiments have been made in this city recently, which indicate a vast im provement Upon the systems adopted dur ing the war. It has been found possible to preserve bodies during a period of sev eral months, without , exclusion .from the air, and to render them perfectly inoffen sive and harmless. The art has been brought to great perfection in Italy. A letter from Florence, published in the Nation, gives a very interesting account of,the new system discovered by Professor Marini, y”’ Eu* This system extends to the restoration of mummified bodies, or portions of them, to their original appearance and color, and to arrest the progress of decays The / foot of an Egyptian mummy is. exhibited, one half of which retains its mummified condition, while the other half seems to have been restored to its original color, form, flexibility and freshness. The limbs of the mummies are shown with attesta tions from Dr. Nelaton, the famous French surgeon, and other high authori ties, to the effect that the restoration to all the conditions attending a fresh human subject have been fully attained. This is scarcely less wonderful’ than the original preservation of these mummies for a score of centuries. The Egyptian embalmers could never have anticipated that it was reserved for a new generation of men to restore to their pristine freshness and flex ibility the subjects of their art, so as to present to new generations and races of men all the appearances of the living or- ' ganization. 'i , The completeness of Professor Manni’s discovery is attested by the fact that he has preserved for a year the body of Pro fessor Martini, of Caliari, of which four months after death a photograph was tak en, which seemed to his friends a perfect portrait as he appeared in life. Other instances are given, showing that the tis- sues.and organization can Ira made to re tain for an indefinite period all the fresh ness of a body newly deceased. These results are obtained by the im mersion of the body in a .vegetable liquid, the composition of which Professors Marini will only disclose under .certain conditions. But these discoveries of the means of arresting the decay of animal matter promise to be attended with the most beneficial results to the living. It is found that cancer, ulcerous ana gan grenous afflictions, and other sores and wounds, may be cicatrized and healed by immersions in the liquid. It is also found that the liquid is useful for tbe preserva tion of animal food.' Petrifactions of por tions of the’humab body and inferior ani mals are also made under the most cirri- ous 4W Professor Marini is still engaged in his discoveries, which he is for from regard ing as perfect. He is making new experi ments. It is in their, application to the living organization; with a . view of arrest ing disease, that he looks for-the results that promise the largest benefits to hu- mamty., Conjugal Felicity Among the Freed- irom'the Gfenodti; (Sftst.,)■ Lee, our devil, who is the sou of Ike, of Ku-klux memory, and who is as black as the ace of spades, got married last week to an ebony Beauty. ' / v*-*f*f He j ust had money enough to pav for his license, aiid when we asked him *how he was going to support his wife; his ready reply was, “Ef she’s gwine to eat she has to earn it as .1 does,! I .didn't bargain to feed and dress her, boss,” We were con gratulating ourselves that the devil was married, and sorrv we were-too ffl last week to gfltf ah! 1 obiliiarv to the happy occasion. But we knew the devil was to pay when the devil got married, and the truth is we were right. Last Monday Lee came to us with a face as ; long as a Boston shingle and .said, “Epok here, boss, I’se been a big^fool, and I wants to get^aperforee.” - “What do you mean bv a perforce ?” we asked. .“Some thing that ptrferee at soea arid Bis wife to quit being marHed^forilHtll you,, boss, I’se tbred of it, shut* “Wby L<A" we replied, “what 3 do yob want to qftttryriur wife' for?” “Fare heaven, boas; it isn’t what I bargained for; I took her fer bet ter arid for w«a; the bette* am gone and Pse only got tbe wofo left; dar’e a colored man and a white munj bMb ^Ad- friends of mine, dey love me po wot tomuohof toea darfs^gwi^ tci giffher up to them. If any fighting to be sameenec*;• yj-yr'TT done dey’s got'to do it”’ So off started tion on t moch| qni . deyil ^ a lawyer to get a ;er, thns writes on „ e most interesting ydlitical nunor of the d»j is {Kgffift Beware, whopMwd Oftongh this city yerterdav, on M* way to Auburn, gave bia ^friend* to ouSeraUud tiut .be wee about to break ground ia foror of General Grant A brief editorial inaone of the Re- ttitag pbp*** baa a . bint to the tome affix* :b«*b« Se«*etaiy, la COWTerea- Tbe Democratic politician* i perplexed by thismoretatot W *bty cannot understand bow tbe Secretary can toerjbrto. iince % - s >■ .(

Georgia Historic Newspapers

Weekly Georgia telegraph. (Macon [Ga.]) 1858-1869, August 07, 1868, Image 1