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The Greorgia, W'eekly Telegraph.
THE TELEGRAPH.
MACON, FRIDAY NOVEMBER 13, 1868.
A COTTON TAX.
The probabilities of a tax on cotton is
now a subject of earnest speculation and dis
cussion among all classes in the South. It is
known that a report proposing an exborbit-
ant tax was before Congress last session, and
many believe it would have passed but for
the then approaching.Presidential election.
The extravagant expenditures and extraor
dinary revenue deficiencies and the hostility
of Congress to the Southern people are among
the reasons urged in support of the opinion
that a tax will be reimposed on cotton.
On the other'hand, it is said that Congress
will not surely be so blind to the vast impor
tance of pushing the culture so as to regain
American ascendancy in cotton production,
and sustain the national credit by a heavy
cotton exportation.
There is much to be said on both sides, and
the course of Congress upon the proposition
will go far to shape the policy of planters in
their arrangements for the next crop.
The possibility that a tax may be imposed,
will no doubt enter into the calculations of
all. Even a light tax will be an immense
drawback, because it subjects the planter to
such a series of miserable annoyances and im
positions from Collectors, in working their
way through the mass of provisions and for
mulas for the prevention of fraud and the
fattening of officials. A great many prefer
to plant no cotton at all, rather than be an
noyed in this way. Fortunately the ap
proaching session must be over by the 4th of
March, and people are bound to know, early
in the planting season, whether another tax
is to be imposed or not.
The Election at Clinton.—We learn
from a citizen of the town that the reason no
poll was opened at Clinton was the Sheriff
could not get enough men to serve as judges
and clerks. The Sheriff made many exertions
to do so, but without effect.
At an early hour in the day a band of two
hundred negroes regularly officered, marched
into the town, and into the Court-house
yard, in a very insolent and threatening
manner, which had a good deal to do with
everybody declining to serve as judges and
clerks of the election. As soon as the ne
groes rscertained that no poll would be
opened at Clinton, they, to the number of
two hundred and thirty, made a forced
march upon Macon, and every one of them
voted here.
This, together with several hundred oth
ers, who came in from Twiggs, and other
counties, explains the heavy majority they
obtained in this county. Had the election
been confined to actual citizens of the
county, the result would haae been quite
close, and it is very doubtful how it would
have gone.
Planchette on the Political Future.
The writer was at the house of a neighbor
last night—Planchette was produced and the
spirits were thick and lively. Among them
the spirit of Thad. Stevens appeared (al
though invisible), and in answer to inter
rogatories, stated that he had been sent by
Satan. Said he was still warmly interested
in politics. Said Grant would not be a Rad
ical, but a Conservative, and his administra
tion would be satisfactory to the South.
Planchette distinctly wrote out Grant’s Cab
inet as follows : Secretary of State, Curtin;
Secretary of the Treasury, Morton; War,
Schofield; Navy, Brown; Interior, Harlan;
Attorney General, Holt; Postmaster General,
Conness. Being interrogated how many lies
were embraced in the foregoing, Planchette
indignantly responded, “none.” Gov. Brown
in the Nnvy might make as bad a piece of
work of it as one of Jackson’s Naval Secreta
ries, who is said to have remonstrated indig
nantly against the extravagance of three
masts for a sloop-of-war, when, to his cer
tain knowledge, no sloop was entitled to more
than one mast. We don’t think the ex-Gov-
ernor’s talents lie in a maritime direction.
He may be some on letters, and therefore
might be Postmaster General. Who knows !
Let us call on Planchette for a re-cast of the
Cabinet.
The Gold Market.—Politics and political
parties, as a general rule, have little influence
upon the market value of any commodity in
this country. Commerce generally regnlates
and takes care of itself. Hence, we do not
believe the result of the late election had any
thing to do with the present low price of
gold. The fall has been caused by the Gov
ernment paying out twenty-seven millions
due in November upon bonds bearing gold
interest. The turning loose of this vast
amount upon the market has caused the de
pression.
South Carolina*
The South Carolina Railroad is laying
steel rail3in that part of the track in the de
pot yard as an experiment.
There is a band of highway robbers, com
posed of mulattocs and negroes, with a white
chief, in the region of Bennettsville. They
number about thirty, and are well armed.
The Yorkville Enquirer says: On Monday
last a considerable amount of land was dis
posed of at auction by assignees in bankrupt
cy. The prices realized in some cases show
an improved feeling -in this species of prop
erty. The bids were all for cash.
The Anderson Intelligencer says: In another
column we publish a card from A. Todd,
Esq., certifying that the Union League at
Pleasant Grove Church has disbanded, the
books and papers destroyed, and expressing
bis belief that such organizations are not cal
culated to benefit the people for whom they
were intended. A note from him also informs
ns that several colored persons, formerly be
longing to the league, promised him to join
the Democratic party on his assuring them
they would not be placed again in slavery.
The Marion Crescent says: We have been
informed that a planter iu this vicinity re
cently received one hundred and eighty dol
lars for a bale of Zipporah cotton, which was
sold in New York at fourteen cents per pound
higher than the ordinary upland cotton.
From Chattahoochee.—Late yesterday
afternoon several hundred negroes from Chat
tahoochee county marched in procession to
the polls in this city to vote here, claiming
that they had not voted in their own county.
Their modest request was refused, and they
retired rather disgusted with the “freedom”
that will not allow a colored sovereign to
vote wherever he pleases.—Oolumh.ua Enq.
Two lizards were recently discovered in
an iron mine at Brixham, Devon. They
were found in a fragile earthy substance, close
to limestone, at deapths of eighty feet and
sixty feet from the surface. The mine is
about' -eight hundred yards from the sea.
For several days the lizards were preserved
in a small box, partly filled with soft mine
debris, and afterward placed in a globe of
water. Both now appear to be well. The
- color on the back is black with small white
K ; the i>fclly is of a rioh ^old co ( lor with
stripes. . .1 •
THE SOUTHERN COLORED TOTE.
The vote of the Southern States will dis
close to the Radicals the entire unreliability
of the colored voters as a political power,
and show that it is 'destined to be not only
worthless to them, as'a party, but mischiev
ous. All that vast and'rotten fabric of bad
legislation and Constitution-tinkering simply
to*build- ujHt controlling negro power in the
goutb, at the expense of all the substantial
interests of the section and country, has re
sulted in no party benefit at all and much
public mischief.
This truth was beginning , to dawn on the
Northern Radicals even before the late elec
tion, and several of their papers were propo
sing a system of qualified suffrage every
where. The show of ;Northern naturalized
voters awakened alarm. It seemed, in their
judgment, even less promising than the array
of Southern negro voters. .The Post and the
Tribune held up their hands in horror at the
reckless deeds of the New York Democracy,
who, they said, were making “ ignorant for
eign votes at the rate of thousands in a day.”
It was convenient then to forget that they
themselves once made ignorant negro votes
at the" rate of 800,000 in a single day.
But they were evidently getting sick of the
universal suffrage business all round. It
smelt of danger to “ vested rights”—to “bond
holders”—to “loyal capitalists”—to ,loyal
protectionists—to loyal tax gatherers, and in
short, to the whole tribe of leeches who fat
ten on the spoils of the people.
It is too clear, that even “an ignorant horde
of voters” may take a very practical view of
the suffrage where their pecuniary interests
are directly concerned; and hence we may
say there is a general reactionary feeling
about so-called “ manhood suffrage.” There
will be little said about it hereafter, and the
Radicals would be quite willing to dispense
with it altogether, could they see a convey
ent way of doing so.
This state of feeling will be favorable to
Southern repose. We shall hear much less
talk about “outrages”—less clamor about
“rights” of all kind—there will be less zeal,
perhaps, in the enforcement of negro-office
holding—who knows? At the very worst
there is bound to be an improvement upon
what would have been the case had the
Southern States been carried triumphantly
for Radicalism, and their votes been at all
essential or profitable in determining the
Presidential succession.
And, further, the result will be profitable
to the domestic peace and order of the
South. The attempt to establish a party of
race has failed. As many negroes voted
with the whites as against them. This fact
is well calculated to maintain harmony and
good feeling between the races. Wherever
a contest of race was at the polls, there was
bitterness and exasperation. The negroes
maintained a defiant front, and whenever
they found themselves in the majority, an
intolerant, insulting and everbearing de
meanor.
In Macon, where the lines were drawn as
effectually as in any other place, the demean
or of the Radical negroes was exceedingly
offensive. Peace was due to nothing but the
determination of the whites to maintain it at
all sacrifices. In Augusta and Savannah
their conduct was lawless and outrageous in
the highest degree, and in both places re
sulted in bloodshed and menace of more ex
tensive conflicts. Whether by their own
suggestions or the teachings of some of the
white leaders, it is certain that wherever
anything like a vote by races was maintained,
the negroes were exceedingly abusive- and
intolerant to the opposition.
These facts display, in glowing colors, the
evils of political distinctions founded on
race, and how fortunate for all concerned,' it
is, that the designs of the Radicals in this
particular have been defeated. And they al
ways will be defeated if the whites of the
South are true to themselves. The party ap
pealing to the negroes as a distinctive race,
will array against itself the great mass of
the whites, and therefore defeat its own pur
pose. The Presidential election of 1868 set
tles forever the problem of a dominant negro
party in the South; and that being decided
we may anticipate that every sensible polit
ical organization will hereafter address itself
not to securing negro .votes, by a policy
hostile to the whites', but to such healing
measures as will address themselves to the
substantial interests of both classes and the
well-being of the country. ;
Savannali Items.
The Savannah papers of yesterday morn
ing have nothing to say of the armed bands
of negroes reported to. be on the Ogeechee
river.
We take the following items from the Re*
publican :
Death of Police Officer Samuel Bry
son.—This officer died yesterday morning,
and during the day an inquest was held upon
his body by the Coroner, and the verdict of
the jury was that deceased came to his death
from a gunshot wound inflicted by some per
son unknown to the jury, during a riot be
tween the police and colored people at the
Court-house in the city of Savannah, on the
8d of November, 1868.
Police Officer R. E. Reed.—It now ap
pears that the ball entered the body of Mr.
Reed on the left side of the abdomen just
above the' pelvis, and ranged downward and
pushed out on the back part of his right
thigh. He vomited blood yesterday, and
last night between eight and nine o’clock he
was thought to be in a dyiDg condition.
Another Rioter Dead.—We learn that a
colored maD, who was an ex Captain or an
ex-Lieutenant in a colored .fire company, and
who was wounded in the late riot at the
Court-house, died yesterday, and that an in
quest will be held upon his body to-day. .
The Augusta City Registry, on Monday,
footed up : whites, 1107; blacks, 1586.
The Cbangle-Blodgett Case—Judg
ment for |12,000 Entered.—In the case of
James Crangle vs. Foster Blodgett, in which
it was charged that defendant caused plain
tiff to be grossly ill treated at Augusta, Ga.,
prior to the Rebellion, by.accusing him with,
entertainment of abolition principles, judg
ment was entered up. It will be remembered
that a trial was had upon a default taken at
the July term. The jury, upon the testimony
of Crangle, assessed his damages, at $50,000.
Of this sum Crangle remitted $38,000, when
judgment went for $12,000.— Chicago Tribune
Oct.29. _
AirLine Railroad—Meeting ofKtock-
holders.—Yesterday there was a very im
portant meeting of the atock-holdeas of the
Air Line Railroad. Among the prominent
gentlemen present were Col. A. S. Buford,
Major W. M. Southeriin, S.'T. Morehead,
and Judge Osborn. The prospect for the
early construction of this road is very good.
—Atlanta InUUigenter.
An English baronet has been tried in a
Liverpool police court for assaulting two po
licemen. He was fined $5 and costs and dis
missed.
. The First Presbyterian Church in Phila
delphia baa chosen and set apart five ladies
to be deaconesses iu the church. ; •
The t aile Fair— late Agricultural
Society, j-
Upon a summons from the Mayor, nearly
all the* State'Fair Committee, announced in
a previous number ofthe Telegraph, assem
bled in the Council Chamber yesterday eve
ning, to digest a programme of operations.
JDr. _ fitrobecker .was. caliEdr iothe: chairman d.
Rev. John W. Burke appointed, Secretary.
After an in‘erchange of views, the following
resolutions were unanimously adopted:
Resolved, That George S. Obear, Charles J.
Harris, James A. Nisbet, L. N. Whittle and
Joseph Clisby be appointed , a committee to
digest and prepare a constitution and by
laws for the State Agricultural Association of
Georgia, and also a memorial to tho Legisla
ture for the incorporation of the same, and
to solicit subscriptions and raise funds for a
State Fair; and that a meeting of citizens be
held in the City Hall on Thursday evening,
19th inst., at 7 o’clock, to consider the report
of said committee and organize said associa
tion.
Also, That the Mayor be reqnested to in
vite the citizens of Bibb and surrounding
counties to meet and participate in the pro
ceediDgs, at the time specified. In accord
ance with the foregoing, it is in contempla
tion to carry on the whole machinery of
the State Fair, as it is everywhere else done,
through State organization, which will be
formed on the 19th. Meanwhile the work
of raising fands, and all needful prelimina
ries will go on, and be turned over to the
new organization so soon as created. The
charter can be secured at the session of the
Legislature in January, but there will beno
necessity of delay in waiting for that. The
Society can proceed actively with the work
of preparation, and the determination of
the Committee present, as well as of the
whole people, is to give an exhibition next
fall worthy of Georgia, and one which can
not fail to benefit every interest of the
State.
Hon. John Quincy Adams and Tns South.
Mr. Adams made an admirable speech in Al
bany, New York, last Friday night, to an
immense audience. "We quote tho following
extract, with an expression of our regrets
that the pressure of advertisements upon our
columns prevents us from spreading more of
it before our readers in this issue:
It is not fair to blame the mas of Southern
whites for the atrocities of a few, especially
as they are now debarred from any power to
use the machinery of government to suppress
the ruffians. The disfranchised men of South
Carolina—the “rebels,” with Wade Hampton
at their head—have already denounced the
murder of Randolph as it deserved; and al
though our Radical friends will say it is done
for effect, I can tell you that I know the
men, and I say, on my conscience as a man,
that Hampton and his committee feel as
deeply and deplore as bitterly such cruel cow
ardice and dastardly crime as I do. Gentle
men, such men as Wade Hampton will fight,
and fight veiy hard, but it is not in him or
in bis class or in bis friends that you will find
kindness for cruelty or toleration for coward
ice. I do not believe that there is now, or is
likely to be, in any event, any sucb danger as
some sensitive people fear. I speak, of course,
generally, and admit that there may be scat
tered cases of drunken or brutal intolerance as
there sometimes are here; but that there will
be any prevalent suppression of personal lib
erty of speech or legal act I do honestly disbe
lieve; and this, in part, for two reasons: I found
all the intelligent men I saw in the South pro
foundly impressed with the necessity of infu
sing two elements of prosperity into South
ern veins—if new life and energy were here
again to revisit her wasted frame—and those
were capital and labor. The entire accum
ulated wealth of the South was swallowed up
by the war, and her system of labor utterly
disorganized. She needs money, even to en
able her to begin to work, and capital is the
most timid of poltroons. She wants, next,
immigration, to unearth the treasure hidden
in her boundless ranges of untouched soil.
But the stranger will never go where his wel
come is churlish, and his, peace precarious.
No, my frieuds, the intelligent and educated
classes of the South have abandoned some
traditional theories, and they are advancing
very fast to a liberal practice, and, with any
fair and generous treatment and considerate
aid, I have no fear of the result. But it is not
a very hopeful way to treat such people to be
eternally abusing them.
INDIA.
Floods and Threatened Famine
Correspondence of the London Timei.l
Calcutta, September 11.—Famine once
more threatens Northern India, especially all
those provinces in which alone the termHin-
dostan is correctly applied. I cannot better
describe the season than by saying that it has
been advanced just one month. There was
hardly any hot weather, in the Indian sense,
in May and June last. The monsoon rains be
gan a month before the usual time, in the
middle of June, and poured down with great
fury in" June. Again in July; and ; Au
gust the heavehs were opened with the
most disastrous results in all the coast
districts; ea?t and west, on which the mon
soon bursts. Orissa was swept) the other
districts between Calcutta and the sea are
still four feet underwater; even more distant
Tirhoot was deluged. The rice crops rotted:
those sown a second time are now rotting
before my eyes. But in Bengal the crop of
the year comes later, as we 1 , have too good
reason to know since 1866. r ' On the rainfall
this month, and half of next, depend the fate
of the cold seasou crops, and the lives of
thousands. Now, Bengal has already had
much more than its whole year’s supply.
No less than seventy-eight inches have
fallen at Calcutta, or eleven more than
the annual average, against fifty-three in the
same time last year. A week ago, when we
should have been parboiled with heat and
damp, the first breath of the cold season
come, and the apprehension is spreading that
even Eastern Bengal will suffer again. Buf
fer horribly it will, if rain does not soon fall,
for the existing crop has beenrhiried in tiiany
places, and the future must be provided for.
Nor has Western India escaped the deluge.
At this time last year it inundated Guz-
erat, Ahmedadad, Kaira, Surat and the
other great old cities there have been
desolated. The news of a calamity,
which, in Europe, would have called forth
the lament'ajidn of natidr*B, ih India takes
three weeks to travel across the peninsula.
Houses have fallen down by tens of thou
sands, and livep, both.European and hatrve,
have been lost, while railway bridges haye
been washed away. The Guzaratee merchants
of Bombay are subscribing liberally for the
sufferers in a catastrophe which has swallow
ed up a qiiarter.of amilliou sterling ofprdfi
erty at the lowest calculation; anefyet, with
such floods in the coasts, we have famine in
the center. 1 CJ ”' JW *' " l '' ‘
' is j-n hen iturn
■Peruvian Mummies,—The statement that
daring the recent earthquake at Arica, Peru,
five hundred mummies were throwa to the
surface, is confirmed by travelers, who report
that the desert hills in that region are filled
with the desiccated bodies of the aborigines.
The preservation of these remains of mortal
ity is attributed to the climate, and also to
the soil, which is impregnated with nitre.
The bodies of the natives are interred in shal
low graves, and the wind removes the light
sands covering them, so that even in ordinary
times hundreds of Bo-called mummies; wrap
ped in coarse grass matting, or in crumbling
nets, have been exposed.
The London streets, placed in a single
straight line, would reach from Liverpool to
New York. It takes 300,000 street lamps to
illuminate London. ' ‘
THE LONDON MUSIC HAULS.
A Strange Scene.
Fromtht Troy Budget.]
The following account of the singing of
“Father Come Home,” in one of the music
halls in London, is from G. F., an old Tro
jan. He,8aya:
- - Having reached the hall,"we paid an ad
mission fee of six pence. There was a very
neat stagej gaudy clrop-scene, side-wings and
a tolerably good orchestra. In the stalls sat
the chairman, to keep order over a3 motley
an audience as ever was oat of the gallery of
the Victoria Theatre. : All appeared plenti
fully supplied with porter and all were en-
joying'their pipes to such an extent as to
make the place almost suffocating; for there
must have been an audience of nearly five
hundred. A nigger “walk rbund” was just
being finished and the shouts of “encore,”
whistling and stamping of feet made the,hall
perfectly bewildering. A, name was an
nounced from the chairman, which we could
not catch, and amidst clapping of hands and
stamping of fcet, there was a buzz of “This
is the song.” The waiters called loudly,
“Any more orders ?” and these being token
and duly executed, all seemed to settle down
quietly to listen to the song. There was the
symphony and buzz of “This is it!” and
we began to feel anxious. Presently a fe
male came iu front of the curtain, amidst
great applause, and commenced “Father,
dear fatter,” etc. Every word was distinct,
and she sang the ballad with great feeling.
In order to fully describe the scene which
followed each verse, it is necessary to give
“Little Mkry’s” song:
“Father, dear father, come home with me now,
The clock in the steeple strikes one (gong!)
You promised, dear father, that you would come
' noma.
As soon ai your day’s work was done.'
Our fire has gone ont—onr house is all dark.
And mother’s been watching since tea,
With poor little Benny, so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me.
Comehome, come home, come home,
Please, father, dear father, come home.”
At the conclusion of the last line the drop-
scene drew np, disclosing the father sitting
at the door of a public house in a drunken,
beinuddled state, with his pipe and pot be
fore him. Little Mary was trying to drag
him from his seat, at the same time pointing
to a curtain behind, as she took up the
refrain from the lady, and touchingly sang,
‘“Gome home,” etc. This other curtain was
now drawn aside, disclosing a wretched
room, with the poor mother sitting on the
ground with a sickly looking boy in her lap,
and in the act of feeding him with a spoon.
Simultaneously with the drawing of the
curtain, the lime light was brought to hear
upon the tableaux, giving them a truly start
ling effect. After a moment or two the act-
drop came down, and the lady proceeded:
“Father, dear father, come home with me now
The clock iu the steeple strikes two (gong, gong.)
The night has grown colder, and Penny is worse,
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is wcise—mother says he will die,
Ferpaps before morning shall dawn.
And this was tho message she sent me to bring—
Come quickly, or ho will be gone.
Come home, come homo, come homo.
Please, father, dear father, come home.”
The act-drop rises again, and now the
child has hold of the pewter pot trying to
take it from her drunken parent, and, as she
continues the two lost lines, “Come home,”
etc., the other curtain is drawn aside, and we
next see the child stretched out on its moth
er’s lap, and as it just raises its little head
and falls back with a gasp, with the lime
light reflecting strongly upon it, there wa3 a
reality about the whole terrible to view.
Sobs were heard _ from the female portion of
the audience, while tears trickled down many
a rough male cheek. We have seen “Susan
Hopley,” “Jane Shore,” “The Stranger,”
“East Lynne,” and other effective pieces
played, but never before did we witness such
a 6cene of general crying. Even the lady
who sang the song was effected and conld
scarcely proceed with the third verse:
“Father, dear father, come home with me now,
The clock in the steeple strikes three! (gong, gong,
gong,)
The house is so lonely, the honrs are so long.
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone—poor Benny is dead,
And gone with tho angels of light;
And those were the very last werds that she said:
I want to kiss papa—good night.
Comehome, come home, come home,
Please father, dear father come home.”
Again the drop rose, disclosing little Mary
on her knees appealing to her father, who,
with pot elevated, is in the act of striking her
with it, as she siDgs, “ come home,” and then
the back curtain draws aside, showing the
mother praying over a child’s coffin. But
now the sobs from the audience burst out
still more freely, and two females were car
ried out fainting. (The scene was truly har
rowing, and we gladly turned our eyes away.
An additional verse was sung about “ poor
Benny” .being with the angels above. The
drop rose: the father, sober now, is weeping
over the coffin with the mother, and little
Mary on her knees, singing “ Home, home,
dear father, come home.” At this moment
the other curtain is drawn aside, and little
Benny is suspended over the coffin, with
wings, smiling down upon them and pointing
upward. The father falls forward on bis face,
the act-drop descends, and for a minute all is
hushed save the sobs of the females in the
audience.
Law Aneodote.—You have all heard of
Counsellor Higgins, ofthe State of ,who
died many years ago. He was exceedingly
adroit in defending a prisoner, and would
sometimes almost laugh down an indictment
for a small offence. A fellow (one Smith)
being on trial for stealing a turkey, the coun
sellor attempted to give a good humored
turn to the affair. “Why, gentlemen of the
jury,” said he, “this is really a very small
affair; I wonder any one would bring such
a complaint into court; if we are going
on at this rate, we shall have business
enough to our hands. Why, I remember
when I was in college, that nothing was
more common than to go out a foraging. We
used to have many a good supper iu this
way. We did not get the poultry too often
in the same place, and there was no harm
done, no fault found.” Notwithstanding
this appeal, the jury convicted the prisoner;
After the court arose, one <?f the jury, a plain
;old firmer, meeting the counsellor, compli-
mehted him on his ingenuity, “and now,
’squire,” said he, fixing rather a knowing
look upon him, I should like to ask you one
question: which road do you take in going
home, the upper or lower ?” “The lower,”
said the counsellor. “Well, then, it’s no
matter; I only wanted to observe that if
you were going my way, I would just jog on
before and lock up my hen-house.” • . v »
- Grant’s Administration.
A Washington special of the 4th inst., to the
Louisville Courier, says:
be; election ana. pollt.,—, rr ^.
ing therelrom, Is mainly discussed to day. Rad
WIDOW COBB’S FIRST LOVE.
The election and political probabilities result
ing therelrom, Is mainly discussed to day. Rad
icals, of course, are in a high state ot jubilation.
Singularly enough, Democrats are not graatly
downcast. The latter proless the.hopclulness
that Grant's •' administration Will prove conserva
tive in'character, and, as such, displeasing to the
intense Radicals. It is held by them, ana al&o by
moderate Republicans; that Grant will - not acqui
esce in the abominable doctrines of Sumner & Co,;
and ont of this division good results will come..
Referring to the disposition of Democrats to
console themselves with .this, thought, the Star
(Republican) says: We apprehend there is more
solid foundation for this philosophy 1 on' the part’
df the minocltv than most Republicans would
suppose. Not that we think Gen. Grant will ever
place himself upon the Democratic platform or
... formally leave that framed at Chicago; from the
very nature of things, however, it ia impossible for
any President fo satisfy the mordultra of nls ante-
election supporters, and in addition to this inhe
rent general difficulty, we do not donbt that Pres
ident Grant’s administration will naturally, and in- 1
tentionaUy turn towards moderate and conserva
tive measures. So, alter all, the Democrats may
not be disappointed. ■
■ , ghaut's resignation.
When will Grant resign his position In the army
is a question readily propounded but not easily
answered 1 V A member of his staS, however, er-
gesses the opinion that be will not resign, before
,.-.r Queen Victoria spent six thousand
poundyn Switzerland, and yet nobody—nqt
even the landlords that fleeced her—seem to
wish for her return'. She so annoyed nearly
all tourists passing through the places she
visited by her arrogant exaotions, that, With
the exception of Engiiatefoufists, no travelers
cardd to go anywhere where they might
meet‘her«.‘ . •.* - . . » * >
- « \ V* . ■ >'• -» ; ' 1
The fire cracked cheerfully on the-broad
hearth of the old farm house 'kitchen, a cat
and three kittens basked in the warmth and
a decrepit yellow dog, lying full in the re
flection of the yellow blaze, ■ wrinkled his
black nose approvingly as he turned bis hind
feet where his fore feet had been. Over the
chimney hung several fine hams and pieces
of dried beef. Apples were festooned along
the ceiling and crook-necked squashes vied
with red peppers and slips of djied pumkins
in garnishing each window-frame. There
were plants, too, on the window ledges—
horseshoe geraniums and dew plants, and a
monthly rose just budding, to say nothing of
pots of violets that perfumed the whole place
whenever they took it into their headB to.
bloom. The floor was carefully swept, the
chairs had not a speck of dust upon leg or
round, the long settee near the fireplace shone
as if it had just been varnished, and the eight-
day clock in the comer had its white face
newly washed, and seemed determined' to
tick the louder for it. Two arm-chaira were
drawn up at a cozy distance from the hearth
(.and each other; a candle, a newspaper, a
pair of spectacles, a dish of red^-cheeked ap
ples and a pitcher of cider filled a little table
between them. In one of the chairs sat a
comfortable-looking woman of about forty-
five, with cheeks as red as the apples, and
eyes as dark and bright as they had ever
been, and resting her elbow on the table and
her head upon her hand, looked thoughtfully
into the fire. This was the widow Cobb—
“relict” of Deacon Levi Cobb, who had been
mouldering in the dust in the By town church
yard for more than seven years. She was
thinking of her dead husband, probably be
cause her work being done, and the servant
gone to bed—the sight of his empty chair at
the other side of the table and tne silence of
the room made her a little lonely.
“Seven years!” so the widow’s reverie
ran. “It seems as if ’twas more than fifty—
and yet I don’t look so very old either,
Perhaps it’s not having any children to both
er my life out, as other people have. They
may say what they like, children are more
plague than profit—that’s my opinion. Look
at my sister Jerusha with her six boys. She’s
worn to a shadow, and I’m sure they have
done it, though she will never own it.”
The widow took an apple from the dish
and began to peel it.
“How dreadful fond Mr. Cobb used to be
of these grafts. He will never eat any more
of them, poor fellow, for I don’t suppose
they have apples where he’s gone to. Heigho I
I remember well how I used to throw apple-
parings over my head, when I was a girl to
see who I was going to marry.”
Mrs. Cobb stopped short and blushed. In
those days she did not know Mr. Cobb, and
was always looking eagerly to see if the peel
bad formed a capital S. Her meditation took
a new turn.
“How handsome Sam Payson was, and
how much I used to care for him. Jerusha
says he went away from our village just af
ter I did, and no one has heard of him since.
And what a silly thing that quarrel was. If
it had not been for that”—
Here came a long pause, during which the
widow looked very steadfastly at the empty
arm-chair of Levi Cobb, deceased. Her fin
gers played carelessly with the apple-paring.
Sbe drew it slowiy towards her, and looked
around the room. *
“Upon my word it is very ridiculous, and
I don’t know what the neighbors would say
if they saw me.”
Still the plump fingers drew the peel
nearer.
“But they can’t see me—that’s a comfort
—and the cat and old Bowse will never know
what it means. Of course I don’t believe
anything about it.
The paring hung gracefully from her
hand. ' ; ~
“But still I should like to try; it would
seem like old times, and”.
Overhead it went, and curled up quietly
on the floor at a little distance; old Bowse,
who always slept with one eye open, saw it
fall, and marched deliberately up to smell it.
“Bowse, Bowse, don’t touch .it!” cried his
mistress; and bending over it with a beat
ing heart, she turned as red as fire; . There
was as hadsome a capital S as one could wish
to see.
A loud knock came suddenly at the door.
The dog growled, and the widow screamed
and snatched up the apple-paring.
“It’s Mr. Cobb; it’s his spirit come back
again because I tried that silly trick,” she
thought fearfully to herself.
Another knock,- louder than the first, and
a man’s voice exclaimed:
“Hillo, the house!”
'“Who is it V asked the widow, somewhat
relieved to find that the departed Levi was
still safe in his grave upon the hillside.
“A stranger,” said the voiee.
“What do you want?”
“To get lodging here for the night.”
The widow deliberated.
“Can’t you go on ? There’s a house half a
mile further on, if you keep to the right-
hand side of the road, and turn to the left
after you get by—”
“It’s raining cats and dogs, and Pm very
delicate,” said the stranger, coughing. ‘Tm
wet to the skin. Don’t you think you can
accommodate me ? I don’t mind sleeping
on the floor.” * !
“Raining, is it? . I didn’t know that;” and
the kind-hearted little woman unbarred the
door very, quickly. “Come in, whoover. you
may be. I only asked you to go on because I
am a lone woman with only one servant in
the house.” v
Tho stranger entered, shaking himself like
a Newfoundland’ dog upon the step, and
scattering a little shower of drops over his
hostess, and her nicely swept floor.
“Ab, that looks comfortable after amah
has been out for hours iu a storm,” he saidas
he caught sight of the fire, and striding along,
toward the hearth, followed, by. Bowse, who
snuffed suspiciously at his. heels, he stationed
himself in the arm-chair—Mr. Cobb's arm
chair—whiph had been “sacred to his mem
ory” for seven years.' The widow was horri
fied. but her guest was so weary and worn out
that she could not ask him to move, but
busied herself iu stirring up the blaze, that
he might the sooner dry his dripping clothes.
A new thought struck her. Mr. Cobb had
worn a comfortable dressiDg-gown during
his illness, which still hung in a closet at her
right. She could not let this poor man catch
his death by sitting in thait wet coat. If
he was in Mr. Cobb’s chair, why should he
not be iu Mr. Cobb’s wrapper ? She went
nimbly to the closet, took it down, fished
out a pair of slippers from the bootrack below,
and brought them to him.
“ I think you had better take off your coat
and boots; you will have tho rheumatic
fever, or something like it if you don't. Here
are some things for you tp wear while they
are drying. And you must be hungry, too.
I will go into the pantry and get you some
thing to eat.”
She bustled avvay “on hospitable thoughts
intent,” and:the stranger .made the exchange
with a quizzical smile playing around his
lips. He was a tall, well-formed man, with
a bold but handsome face—sun-burned but
heavily bearded, and looking anything but
delicate, though his blue eyes glanced out
from under a forehead as white as snow... He
looked around the kitchen with a mischiev
ous air, stretching out his feet before him,
flPfiOl'atpfl.wiHl fliA alimutM
spectacles (it,waa not without a little pan 6
that she saw them in his hand, for they had
been the deacon’s, and were placed each
night, like the arm-chair, beside her), and
depositing them on the settee. “Give me
the table-cloth, ma’am—Pve learned that
along with a score of other things in my
wanderings. Now let me relieve you of
tlioso diches; they are too heavy for those
little hands ”-the jwidow blushed-“and thought to the poor'feUow ahelZ glTin S
now please sit down'with me, or I cannot wm-Li » p sue Grove out ini
eat a morsel.”
“I had supper iong ago, but reallyl think
I can take something more,” said Mre. Cobb,
drawing her chair near the table.
“Of course you can, my dear lady. In this
cold autumn weather people ought to eat
twice as much as they do in warm. Let me
give you a.piece of this ham—your own
curipg, I dare say.”
“Yes; my poor husband was very fond of
it. He Used to say that no one understood
curing ham and drying beef better than I.”
“He was a most sensible man, I am sure.
I will drink your health, madam, in this
cider.”
He took a long draught and set down his
glass.
, “It's like nectar.”
The widow was feeding Bowse and the cat
.(who thought that they were entitled to a
■share of every meal eaten in the house,) and
did not quite hear what he said. I fancy she
would hardly have known what “nectar” I are thi friends of both nanieT-'"»*° a
was; so it was quite as well. ioice with each ntW» 0 > we c&nre.
“Fine dog, ma’am, and a very pretty
cat.”
_ “They were my husband’s favorites,” and a
sigh followed the answer.”
“Ah, your husband must havc Ueen a very
ippy man.”
The blue eyes looked at her so long that she Samuel’s dear friend ? If he
grew flurried. * ......
“Is there anything more lean get for you,
sir ?” she said at last.
“Nothing, thank you; I have finished.”
Sbe rose to clear the things away. He as
sisted her, and somehow their hands had a
queer knack of touching as they carried the
dishes to the pantry shelves. Coming back
to the kitchen, she put the apples and cider
iu their places, and brought out a clean pipe
and box of tobacco from an arched recess
near the chimney.
“My husband always said he could not
sleep after eating supper late unless he
smoked,” she said. “Perhaps you would like
to try it.”
“Not if it is going to drive you away,” he
answered; for she had a candle iu her hand.
“Oh, no, I do not object to smoke at all.”
She put the candle down—some faint sug
gestions of '‘propriety” troubled her. She
glanced at the old clock and felt reassured;
it was only half-past 9. ,
The stranger pushed the stand back, after
thfe pipe was lit, and drew her easy chair a
little nearer the fire—and his own. ’
“'Come, sit down,” he said, pleadingly.
“It is not late; and when a man has been
knocked about in California, and all sorts of
places, for a score of years, he is glad enough
to get into a berth like this, and to have a
pretty woman to speak to again.”
“California! have you been to California ?”
she exclaimed, dropping into the chair.
Unconsciously, she had long cherished the
idea that Sam Payson—the lover of her
youth, with whom she had foolishly quar
relled—had pitched his tent, after many
wanderings, in that far-off land. Her heart
warmed to one who, with something of Sam’s
looks and ways about him, had also been
sojourning in that country, very possibly had
met him—perhaps had known him intimately.
At that moment her heart beat quick, and
she looked very graciously at the bearded
stranger, who, wrapped in Mr. Cobh’s dress
ing-gown, wearing Mr. Cobb’s slippers, and
sitting in Mr. Cobb’s chair, beside Mr. Cobb’s
wife, smoking Mr. Cobb’s pipe, with such an
air of feeling thoroughly and comfortably at
home.
“Yes, ma’am, I have been in California for
six years. And before that I went quite
round the world in a whaling ship.” •
“Good gracious!”
The stranger sent a puff of smoke grace
fully curling over his head.
“It’s very strange, my dear lady, how often
you see one thing as you go wandering about
the world after that fashion.”
“And what is that ?”
“Men without house or home above their
heads, roving here and there, and turning up
in all sorts of odd places, caring very little
for life as a general thing, and making for
tunes just to fling them away again—and all
for one reason. You don’t ask what that is.
No doubt you know very well.”
“I think not, sir.”
“Because a woman has jilted them.”
Here was a long pause, and Mr. Cobb’s
pipe emitted short puffs with surprising ra
pidity. A guilty conscience needs no ac
cuser. The widow’s cheeks were dyed with
blushes as she thought of the absent Sam.
“I wonder how women manage when they
get served in the same way ?” said the stran
ger, musingly. “You never meet them roam
ing up ,and down in that style.”.
“ No,” said Mrs. Cobb, with Borne spirit;
“ if a woman is in trouble she must stay at
home, and bear it in the best way. And
there’s more women bearing such things than
we know of, I dare say.”
“Like enough. We never know whose
hand gets pinched in a trap, unless they
scream. And women are ioo shy or too sen
sible—which you choose—for that.”
“ Did yon ever, in all your wanderings,
meet with any one. by the name of Samuel
Payson ?” asked the widow unconcernedly.
The stranger looked towards her. She was
rummaging at the table drawer for her knit
ting-work, and did not notice him. When it
was found, and the needles in motion, he an
swered her.
Payson! Sam Payson 1 Why he was my
most intimate friend 1 Do you know him ?”
• {i ^~ —that is—I used to when,I was a
girl._ Where did you meet him?”
deqorat^d, with the defunct deacon’s slippers.
“Upon my word, this is stepping into tho
old mauls- shoes with a vengeance t And
what a hewtyigood-humored looking woman
she is; kind as akittenand then he patted
old -Bowse upom the head. 1716 widow,
bringing in sundry good things, looked
pleased at his attention to her dumb friend.
: “It’s a wonder Bowse does^ not growl. He
generally does when strangers touch him.
Dear me, how stupid 1” vaW- tlt-lo*?
This last remark; was addressed neither to
the stranger nor the dog,.but to ( Marself.' She
had forgotten that the little stand was not
empty, and there was no .room on it for the
things she held.
“Oh, I’ll manage that,” said her guest,
gathering up paper, candle, apples, ’ and
' I * *
“ He went with me on the whaling Toysge
I told you of—and afterwards to California.
W e had a tent together, and some other fel
lows with us, and we dug in the same claim
for more than six months.”
“I suppose he was quite well.”
“ Strong as an ox, my dear lady.”
“ And—-and happy ?” pursued the widow,
bending over her knitting.
“Hum, the less said about that the better,
perhaps. But he seemed to ebjoy life after a,
fashion of his own. And he got rich out
there, or rather, I will say, well off.”
Mrs. Cobb did not pay much • attention to
that part of the story. Evidently she had
not finished asking questions. But sbe was
puzzled about her next one. At last. she
brought it out beautifully.
“Was his wife with him in California?”
“His wife, ma’am ? Why, bless you, he
has not got one.”
“Oh, I thought—I meant—I heard—” here
the litttle widow remembered the fate of
Ananias and Sapphira, and stopped short be
fore she told such a tremendous fib.
“Whatever you heard of. his marrying was
all nonsense, I can assure you. I know him
well,', aud he had no thought of the kind
about him. Some of the boys began to tease
him about it, but lie soon made them stop”
“How!”
■ •“He just told them frankly that the only
woman he ever loved jilted him years before,
and married another man. After that no one
ever mentioned the subject to him again, ex
cept me.”
Mrs. Cobb laid her knitting aside and
looked thoughtfully into the fire.
“He was anbther of the class of men I was
speaking of. I have seen him face death a
score of times as quietly as I face the fire.
‘It matters very little what takes me off,’ he
used to say; Tve nothing to live for, and
there’s no one who will shed a tear for me
when I am gone. It’s a sad thought for a
man to have, isn’t it ?”
Mrs. Cobb sighed‘as she said she thought
it-was.
“But did he ever tell you the name of the
lady who jilted him ?”
“I knew her first name.”
“What was it ?”
“Maria.” ”
Thof lump little widow almost started out
of her chair. - Her name was stioW
as Sam would have saidft. P * exsct lj
“Did you know her, too t” heask^ ,
mg at her. look.
“Yes.”
“Intimately?”
“Yes.”
“And where is she now ? Still
her husband, I snppose, and nevi^ 1 ^
thought to the poor fellow she drovp n
the world.” r07e outing
“N°C s “ d Mra. Cobb, shading her f
with her hand and speakine L , J"*
“No; her husband is dead.” 8
“Ah 1 but still Bhe never thinks of 8,1
There was a dead silence. 18am r
“Does she?”
“How can I tell ?”
“Are you still friends ?
“We are.”
tXV 00 ou s“ to
5jm sure I don’t know »lij : slMH
if I do you must promise me on ™,h' ^
never to tell him if you ever kapp C . n t „ °“ 0; >
him again.” ppcn to meet
“Madam, what you say to me never * „
be repeated to any mortal man nnn«
honor.” > Upon ay
“Well, then, she does remember him »
“But how ?”
“As kindly I think, as he conld wish”
“I am glad to hear it for his sake Ym ,
are the friends of both parties • we m Md
joice with each other.” > «
He drew his chair much nearer hem . j
took bm: hand. One mement the
sisted, but it was a magnetic touch • the J:
palm lay quietly in his, and the dark
bent so low that it nearly touched her 2
der. It did not matter much,
Samuel’s dear friend ? If he was not g
rose, had he not dwelt near it for a lon<r w
time ? ° !
“It was a foolish quarrel that
them,” said the stranger softly.
“Did he tell you about It!”
“Yes, on board the whaler.”
“Did he blame her much ?”
“Not so much as himself. He said that h»
jealousy and ill-temper drove her tobr<*V
off the match; but he thought sometimajf
he had only gone back and spoken kindlv to
her she would have married him after all”
.“I am sure she would,” said the widow
piteously. ‘She has owned it to me more
than a hundred times.’ ” re
“She was not happy, then, with another 1’’
“ 3Ir -—that was to say, her husband-was
very good and kind,” said the woman think-
mg of the lonely grave on the hillside rather
pcmtentlv, “and they lived pleasant/y to
gether. There never was a harsh word be
tween them.”
“Still, might she not have been happier
with Sam ? Be honest, and say just what you
think.”
“Yes.”
“Bravo I that is what I wanted to come at.
And now I have a secret to tell you, and vou
must break it to her.”
Mrs. Cobb locked rather scared.
“What i3 it ?”
“I want you to go and see her, wherever
she may be, and say to her: ‘Maria’—
What makes you start so ?”
• “Nothing, only you speak so like some one I
used to know.”
“Do I ?” Well, take the rest of the mes
sage. Tell her that Sam loved her through
the whole; that is, when he heard she Was
free he began to work hard at making a for
tune ; he has got it, and he’s coming to share
it with her, if she will let him. Will you tell
her this ?”
The widow did not answer. She freed her
hand from his, and covered her face with if
By-and-by she looked up again. He was
waiting patiently.
“Well?”
“ I will tell her.”
He rose from his seat and walked up and
down the room. Then he came bark, and
leaning on the man tel piece, stroked the yel
low hair of Bowse with his slipper.
“Make her quite understand thathewmts
her for his wife. She may live where snelikes,
only it must be with him.”
“ I will tell her.”
“And what do you think she will say The
said in altered tone.
“ What can she say, but—come ?”
“ Hurrah!” *
The stranger caught her out of her chair,
as if she bad been a child, and kissed her.
“Don’t—don’t!” she cried* out; “ I®
Sam’s Maria.!’
“ Well, I am Maria’s Sam 11
Off went the dark wig and the black
whiskers ; tbere smiled the dear face she had
not forgotten.' I leave you to imagine the
tableau. Even the cat got up to look, and
Bowse sat oh his stump of a tail, and
wondered if he was on his heels or head.
The widow gave one little scream, and
then she—-
But stop 1 Quiet people like you and me,
dear reader, who have got over all these
follies, and can do nothing but turn up ow
noses at them, have no business here. I will
only add that tiro hearts were very happy;
that Bowse concluded after a while that all
was right, and so laid down again, and that
one week after there was a wedding at the
house that made the neighboring farmers
stare. The widow had married her‘‘firs;
love.”
A Public Enemy.—Chief Justice Cartel
of Washington city, of the District Supreme
Court, in confirming the decree of condem
nation, recently, against twenty-fire fane
of spirits, remarked that the spirit “...
statute wais to consider spirits a P®“.
enemy, which was in rebellion agnnst
Government, corrupted the people,
sought to seize the Government by
its revenues. These twenty-five barrels cam
into court bound to prove their innocence
being connected with an attempt to
the revenue. He moved the decree of co -
detonation upon them, and wished that
the whisky in the world was in these bsrre^i
he would make an auto da fe of them.*"
TFusA. Cor. 2f. T. Times.
Traveling on Velocipedes.—Four veloc
ipedes recently drove np to the Bote
France, at Mans, France, their driven haring
started together on a tour from
whence they velocipeded up to Fans
the capital they started for Bordeau,
Bernard, and Mans, traveling on an averapi
thrity miles a day.
A dispatch, was recently sent from B "
to Smyrna in two hours aud twenty nun
London lately observed a meteor so brifi
that it caused the street gas lights to
shadow on the pavement.
Horace Greeley publishes a c«d
nounci ng his withdrawal from tne can
in the Fifth Congressional District
A company has been formed in Mont«
t© build a railway from Leunoxville to »
gantic and San Francisco.
The Madrid ladies wear blue as their h
vorite color since the revolution.
Califobkia Wheat.—The San Fra 1 c ^
papers report that certain sections f
Joaquin county produce forty ^ bueti a "
wheat and eighty-five bushels of barky
acre. The Chili Club wheat, however, ^
in Los Angelos county; yields eigk
of wheat and one hundred bushels ^
to the acre. These immense crops, it f
are produced without the use . in giuna
manure or fertilizer, exceptram and sana^.
In England, in soils under fhe most
state of cultivation, thh^-two linshe^
acre is the enstomary yield of the nett g*
growing countries.
Ex-President Buchanan's
hundred aiEj twenty-iour acr*^^
county, Pe»n»ylvwna, hM |ate^M« ^
with the buildnigs, to McW**
flMOOr • |(
Right-Hand
Child, of Wisoonrin, taring
battle, recently presented * Vormont, * D °
““AT
*jj?y dottrirglove buying m P" 4
shf^