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X 1 d: Jr ^ , “.Jr. / ; 1 f ^ ,n v ; * .»• gn mh ■■■■■I g#.^:yv-ip^y&w-^)pgy. | i wwm j!ysy??wi^?- v - *T' :7 . *r' '. ’0J*' •: •v ’•<;• * . •■•;>;•; :*. • ., ,■ •*•..- ..^■./-.•/v.- » >? v*..* . r ;,••';■•.’:*•.>5ffc**hf&**$ A y -»- v v^/;.,„f&to£fr$90Qn&ifiSs jBY & REID, Proprietors. The, Family Journal.—News—Politics—Literature—Agriculture—Domestic Affairs GEORGIA TELEGRAPH BUILDING. IABLISHED 1826.} MACON, FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1868. YOL. XLIIL—NO. 2. A TERRIBLE VOYAGE. ippiMcolt’* Magazine for December.1 nen in Santa Fe some weeks ago, I lt d from a newspaper which I cas- pieked up, that a scientific gentle- ^Professor Powell by name, if my jory serves me aright—was aboiit j.’out with an expedition to explore Grand Canon of the Rio Colorado : e West. Since then my time has jv been spent among the mountains to the plains of New Mexico and gts, without access to newspapers, so I have lost sight of the expedition, j’aich I feel a deep interest,) and in frontier town which is my present porary abiding place, I can learn ; ing in regard to it. I trust that it is •raring favorably, and will be able jruL-li a satisfactory report to an ex ant public; yet I can assure you should Professor Powell be entirely Useful, ho will accomplish a work, jugnitude of which—leaving its dan- ; out of the calculation—will far sur- ? that of any former exploration upon American continent. ,"ne most skillful and adventurous ex ists of whom we have any knowledge ie pioneer gold hunters of the Great st—have made many attempts to ex- re the tremendous chasm in question, 1, after exhausting their means and noth in fruitless struggles against the Arable barriers imposed by Nature, fed back wearied and discomfitted 3 the task. There is—or was a few •s since—a stronghold of the Huala- • Indians within the canon, perhaps a jn miles from its mouth, and above . point no man, white or red, has suc- led in ascending more than four or miles, notwithstanding more than party of hearty “prospecters” have ued days to the most determined ef- 3 to proceed farther. So much for approach in front. The approach by :er Hank is quite as impracticable, i the walls of the canon are vertical, ?arly so, varying in height from one -and to eight thousand feet, and in a ince of about about five hundred a presenting no break or side fissure which man or beast might safely reach bottom of the stupendous gorge, jC ru rolls the Colorado, und hears no sound c its own dashing ” lease my “dropping iuto poetry,” but vordsquoted are thorougly applicable be Colorado in its course through the :i .-oiitinks of the Grand Canon, while were never true of the Oregon or nubia.) The Colorado Chiquito, or i river, empties into the canou about way of its length, but it pours over a i precipice. I have heard vague re- a of an old Spanish or Indian trail *?iDg the canon, but, after diligent in- ry, I could get no tangible assurance t”«uch a trail had ever existed. Old ters, who had followed the course of canon along its banks, through its •le extent, scouted the idea. Parties e travelled along the brink of the in for days, famishing with thirst, yet •.allied by the almost constant sight of waters of the Colorado, utterly inac- •iblo except by a downward leap of ral thousand’ feet perpendicularly, ich few would care to risk. A young a whom I met in New Mexico asserted l lie had once descended the side of canon to the river, and returned by same path;- but upon questioning i, I discovered that he confounded the iek Canon, between Fort Mojave and ■Ivllle, with the Grand Canon, which bad never seen; and this is » frequent ir with persons who have passed iugh the former, which is of inconsid- ke length, and offers but little ob- uvtion to the passage of small steamers ' barges. In fine, I am convinced that only practicable way of exploring Grand Canou is by netering it above, 1 to illustrate the difficulties and dan- s of attempting it iu that direction, urpose, by your leave, to rehearse the rative of the only human being who ever made the passage through it— K of the Indian tribes on the river ring either remembrance or tradition it such a passage has ever previously : made. i the month of April, 1,867, three —Captain Charles Baker formerly evident of St. Louis, and later well own in Colorado as an indefatigable 1 adventurous, but not always success- prospecter; George Strobe, also origi- ly from St. Louis; and James White, tnerly of Kenosha, Wisconsin, after- rd a gold-miner in California, and ring the rebellion a private in the th California Cavalry, serving under ral Connor in Utah—set out from orado City, C. T., to prospect for pla- gold on the San Juan river, which •ties into the Colorado in Utah Terri- some thirty or forty miles below the 3uence of Green and Grand rivers. tj were mounted on horses, and drove b them several animals laden with visions and mining implements. Af- a tedious, toilsome, ami hazardous Hey over a very rocky and mountuin- eountry, without so much as an In 8 trail to relieve the roughness of the ? for much of the distance, they reach their destination—a point some miles ■ve San Juan Mountain—about the Idle of May, and immediately pro ved to prospect, following, the river ■•’ward, carefully examining the G, and especially the gulches, on Jer side, and sinking shafts to the ••rock wherever the indications seemed •arrant so much labor. Iu this man- r they consumed nearly three months | their stock of provisions, meeting ** but indifferent success, their best pect being about two cents to thepan- °f dirt, obtained from a gulch near the ' of St. Juan Mountain. They were however, prepared to altogether ®don that field. Two cents to the ul, if not, in miners' phrase, a “big S>” is still encouraging. They dis c’d the matter, and resolved to return ■olorado City, procure a fresh supply 'revisions, and, if possible, a few more ’» and, returning to San Juan Moun- '• s pe,od the winter at its base. They ‘er resolved that as some of their an imals were footsore from traveling un shod over extremely rocky ground, they would proceed to the mouth of the San Juan and attempt to construct a raft, upon which to convey themselves and their animals to Green river, thus avoid ing the worst portion of the route by which they had come. The morniag of the 25th of August found the little party encamped near the mouth of the San Juan. They had eaten breakfast, and were collecting their lari ats and pack-ropes with which to lash to gether the cotton-wood drift-logs, of which they had found a sufficiency for their purpose strewn by floods along the bank of the Colarado. They were in excellent spirits, and chatted gayly of the prospect of soon meeting old friends amid civilized scenes, when suddenly they heard a sa\ - age yell, followed by the crack of rifles, the whistling of bullets, and the hurtling of arrows. Captain Baker fell dead. Strobe and White sprang to their feet and fired an ineffectual round or two; but, finding themselves beset and in danger of being surrounded by about forty Utah Indians, they abandoned the unequal contest, and hastily snatching up the ropes which they had collected, and a small sack containing perhaps ten pounds of flour, which happened to lie in their way, fled to the Colorado. The Indians, being occupied in catching the animals, plundering the camp, and stripping and scalping the dead body of Captain Ba ker, did not immediately pursue them, and the fugitives were enabled to get a few logs lashed together, launch the raft thus hastily constructed, and pole them selves out of harm’s way before their ene mies found leisure to look after them. The circumstances attending the em barkation of our involuntary voyagers were, to say the least, discouraging. In the unknown wilderness, hundreds of miles from any civilized habitation, they had suddenly been despoiled of the great er part of their means of life and of reaching their homes, and forced, for the preservation of their bare lives, to com mit themselves upon a frail raft to an un known stream, and float they knew not whither. But their sorest loss was that of their friend and leader, Captain Ba ker, upon whose sagacious and experienced counsels they had hitherto depended to extricate them from all difficulties. Now they must trust to their own inexperi enced guidance, or rather submit to be led by blind Fate whithersoever she would. But the men who go forth to seek new gold fields amid Nature’s wilds are not easily daunted. Sad they were for their friend and leader’s fate, and doubtless a trifle anxious for their own; but they discussed the situation as calmly as if they had been seated on the piazza at the best hotel in Colorado City, instead of a rude and loosely-constructed cotton wood raft on the Upper Colorado. At length, as they became satisfied that they were not pursued, they grew cheerful, and speculated hopefully upon the prob ability of a speedy termination, of their voyage. They had little knowledge of the section of country they were in; and although they had heard of the Grand Canon, they had no definite idea of eith er its locality or extent. They knew that Callville was at the head of navigation on the Colorado, and as they were floating smoothly along upon a broad and deep stream, they easily persuaded themselves that the head of navigation could not be far distant, and that they would reach Callville in two or three days at the farth est. Having settled that matter to their satisfaction, they fell to the discussion of their further plans; frequently, however, recurring to the catastrophe of the morn ing, and referring in terms of regret or eulogy to their murdered comrade, whom many good qualities, as well as long com panionship, had greatly endeared to them. So passed the first day, oh the evening of which they turned their raft shoreward, and, having found a suitable place for the purpose, made it fast for the night. Having no means of making a fire, and not being hungry enough to crave a supper of raw flower, “straight,” or mixed with water, they lay down fast ing, and soon were wrapped in deep and refreshing slumbers. At sunrise next morning they let go their hawser and resumed their voyage, still preferring empty stomachs to such food as they had. Still, as throughout the previous day’s voyage, the river flowed on smoothly between low and verdure-clad banks, but the velocity of its country was perceptible increasing. At length, toward noon, they came to rapids swift and rocky, in descending which they lost their carbines and their little store of flour—their only provision —their only provision—while their revol vers were wet so as to be unservicablc. Below these rapids the banks were steep and rocky ; but an island of some extent afforded them a convenient place to haul: out for repairs, while the screw-pod mez- •1 uit with which it was partially covered .urni.-lied them with a scanty but not al together unpalatable meal. (Of niezqnit, a thorny bush which grows in great abundance.on the Colorado, and in many other portions of California, Ar izona and Mexico, there are two varieties —one producing beans in a large pod, resembling our ordinary garden beans, while the other produces small seeds, about the size of those of the locust, en veloped in a small spiral pod, from two to three inches in length, which is fleshy, and has a pleasantly sweetish taste. I have tasted them, and found them to be rather tough, but otherwise palatable.) Having passed the night at the island, our vovagers set out in the morning with their raft in better condition than before, and with renewed hope of soon getting to the end of their voyage, or at least of reaching a port. From the size and depth of the stream, they argued that the head of navigation—Callville—must be near. After they had floated for a few hours, however, the sound of falling wa ter was borne to their ears, becoming more and more distinct as they proceeded, until they were satisfied that they were approach ng a cataract. Meanwhile they had gradually and almost uncon sciously drifted into a cannon with high, precipitous walls, which confined the riv er within a narrower channel than it had coursed above. A hasty reconnoissance convinced them that they could not es cape from the gorge by climbing the walls, while the current was now so swift that it was useless to think of attempting to turn back. White, however, took the precaution of lashing himself to the raft, and advised Strobe to do likewise. “No,” replied the latter; “I am an old Mississippi boatman, and can stick to the raft wherever she goes, without tieing. It isn’t much of a fall, and there is no danger in running it; but if a man is tied in such a place, he might lose his life before he could get loose. We had better tie our revolvers, though; they’re wet now, and a little more won’t hurt them. And we had better be rid of them.” On swept the raft with rapidly increas ing speed; the voyagers, silent, stern, with compressed lips and tense nerves, boldly facing the peril which they were now powerless to avoid. A moment they were balanced upon the brink of the cataract—the next were plunged sheer twelve feet into the seething waters be neath. Emerging at length, White found himself alone on the raft, which an eddy had caught in the rim of its vor tex, and was slowly whirling around. When he had partially recoverd his self- possession, which had been seriously dis turbed by the shock of the fall, he looked around for his companion, and quickly descried him in mid-channel, some twen ty yards distant, buffeting the current with feeble and uncertain stroke. Shout ing to him some words of his encourage ment, and hastily freeing himself from his lashings, White prepared to make such efforts as he could to assist and save his comrade; but almost immediately poor Strobe, half-strangled doubtless, and bewildered by his frightful plunge over the cataract, without a cry or a groan sank and rose no more. The fate of either of his comrades would have been a merciful one to White, in comparison to what befel him. Poor fellow! his troubles had hardly yet be gun, while theirs were ended, at least for this world. The death of Strobe fell upon him with crushing weight. Sink ing upon the raft, which floated slowly around with the eddy, until it stranded upon the head of a small island, he abandoned himself for a brief period to all the misery of despair. But his rug ged, energetic nature would not long succumb to such a feeling. Recovering himself, he began to survey as calmly as he might, his situation. And now came back upon his memory the stories he had heard from some old prospecters while he lay in camp at Salt Lake—idle tales he had deemed them then, hut now he could not resist the conviction of theirreality—of the terrible Great Canon; of its great length, tre mendous depth aud impassable walls; of the vain efforts which had been made to explore its fearful solitudes. Looking around upon the high, steep walls, which hemmed him in on either hand, and stretching away before, dark and frown ing, as far as the eye could reach, he no longer doubted but that he was in the veritable Grand Canon, through which no living human being had ever passed. He thought of endeavoring to return, but a brief examination convinced him that would be impossible, unless he were gifted with wings. He thought of attempting to scale the walls of the canon, but as his eager eye wandered over their dark, flat surfaces, where a lizard could hardly gain a foothold, he abandoned the idea as too wild to he entertained. There was no way open for him except in the course of the river through the eauon, and in that direction there seemed not the shadow of a chance that he might succeed and live. He only dared to hope that by carefully tieing hiniself to the raft his body might float through with some por tion of it, and be identified by means of a pocket memorandum book, which he endeavored to secure to his person, so that his fate might become known to his relatives and friends. Having considered these things with the desperate calmness of a man who regards himself as doomed to speedy and inevitable death, he never theless omitted nothing which might tend to the preservation of his life. First, he overhauled his raft and tightened its lashings. Next, he stript the mezquit bushes, which grew on the island, of their scanty crop, with which he partially appeased his hunger. Then, with a fer vent appeal to the Great Father of all, he launched his raft and floated away to encounter unknown dangers and ter rors. It is hardly necessary to say that White kept no “log” of his voyage, and it would therefore be impossible to give, from this point, the details of his daily progress. Never before did mortal man perform such a journey. For near five, hundred miles he floated over a succes sion of cascades and cataracts, varying in height from four to twenty feet, with patches of smooth water between. Fre quently, in plunging over a fall, the raft was overturned, and it was with much difficulty be saved himself from drown ing. Once he was so long under water that he became insensible, but on that occasion the raft providentially emerged right side up, and when he revived he found himself floating along as if nothing had happened. Below each fall there was an island, formed by the sand thrown up by the eddying waters, affording him. an opportunity of hauling up his raft for repairs—a very necessary operation, as the ropes with which it was bound were frequently cut upon the edges of the rocks at the head of the falls—and a place of rest during the night. At first the mezquit growing upon the islands supplied him with a scanty allowance of food, hut after the sixth day he found the islands barren. A rawhide knife scabbard then afforded him some slight sustenance and a good deal of chewing for a couple of days, after- which he was without food of any kind until he got catch them, but was too feeble to suc ceed, aud so the tempting creatures es caped. To add to his misery, he was stripped by the rocks and waters of his hat, pants, drawers, boots and socks, while the sun, which he was compelled almost constantly to face, sitting in a constrained posture during the hottest part of the day, beat with burning fierce ness upon his unprotected head and legs, the latter soon becoming blistered and raw from the unwonted exposure. And all the time the dark walls of the *anon towered above him, nowhere les3 ihan a thousand feet, and in some places & mile and a half in height, to the best of his judgment: he had no means op oppor tunity of measuring the distance. Anx iously he watched tor some avenue of es cape, some crevice or fissure iu tk« ada mantine walls which confined him, but there was none. The consoling reflection remained that it was perhaps better to be dashed to pieces, or perish of simple star vation in the canon, than to scramble out of it, and add the torment of thirst to those which he had already endured. So he voyaged on, now helplessly broiling in the merciless rays of the sun, (no one who has not been upon the Colorado can form an adequate idea of the heat which prevails there in summer,) as he floated calmly, yet swiftly, along upon an ex panse of comparatively smooth water; then tumbling over a cascade, or rushing through a rapid, at the imminent peril of shipwreck upon the rocks, which humped and thumped his frail raft until its light timber rattled again; and now, shudder ing and with bated breath, plunging over a fall, for ought he knew into eternity. Day by day, and hour by hour he grew weaker from want of food, while, from sitting in a cramped position and from exposure to the sun, his legs were so stiff and sore as to be almost entirely dis abled. Still with dogged resolution he persevered, improving every available moment of daylight, and making, as he believed, at a moderate estimate, between forty and fifty miles distance every day. At length, on the evening of Septem ber 6th, the raft—with our bruised, bat tered and starving voyager, more dead than alive, but yet retaining a great deal of the wonderful vitality which had thus far sustained him, still clinging to it— emerged from the canon. Again the broadening river flowed between low, green banks. White felt that the worst of his voyage was over—if he could but hold out a day or two longer he would be saved. But, though his spirit was un daunted, his physical strength was nearly gone. He floated on, watching eagerly for the signs of human habitation. Soon he passed the mouth of a considerable stream—the Rio Virgin—and almost immediately he heard voices shouting to him. He could hardly convince himself that the sounds were real, and as he gaz ed in wondering suspense toward the bank, a number of Indians leaped into the water, swam off to him, and pushed the raft ashore. Being pretty well ar- roused by this summary proceeding, of which he did not know whether the intent was hostile or friendly, White attempted to rise to his feet, but the Indians pulled him down again so violently that the skirts of his coat, which they took hold of for the purpose, came offin their hands. They then seized one of the two revolv ers which remained fastened to the raft, hut White, who had no idea of being robbed without resistance, stoutly retained possession of the other. One of the Indi ans then addressed him in English, in forming him that they were Pah-Utes, and “good Indians;” whereupon White demanded something to eat. After some parleying, they agreed to give him a dog for his remaining pistol; but, having se cured the weapon, they let the animal go. He was finally obliged to give them his vest for catching and killing the dog (a small one,) and then they appropriated the fore quarters. The Indians seemed to com prehend the fearful trip which he had just made, and to express some astonish ment among themselves that he should have survived it; hut his condition ex cited not the smallest spark of sympathy in their dusky bosoms. He was a white man, and their lawful prey. The fact that they were “at peace” with the whites hardly accounts for their treating him with so much forbearance as they did, since they could have killed him without fear of discovery; and I have known hut few Ind.ans, however “good,” who could resist an opportunity of shedding a white man’s blood with impunity. White ate a hind quarter of dog, raw and without salt, for his supper, and then lay down and slept sound]) - . In the morning he ate the other hind quarter, and having learned from the Indians that Callville was near, again embarked and resumed his voyage, which had now lasted fourteen days. It chanced that at this time the barge Colorado, of Fort Mojave, in charge of Captain Wilburn, with a crew of four or five men, was at Callville, receiving a cargo of lime and salt. Standing on the river bank, Captain Wilburn saw the strange craft pass by on the other side, and hailed. The response came in feeble tones: “My God! Is this Callville?” “Yes,” replied.Wilburn; “comeashorel” “I’ll tiy to,” replied the voyager, hut I don’t know whether I can or not.” Wil burn and his men being busily employed, did not particularly notice his appear ance, and when they saw Him bring the raft to about two hundred yards below, they thought no more of the matter until nearly two honrs after, when a strange- looking object made its appearance on the crest of the hill near the'landing. “My God, Captain Wilburn!” exclaim ed qne of the crew, “that man’s a hun dred years old 1” And he looked a3 if he might even be older. His long hair and flowing beard were white ; his eyes were sunken;" his cheeks emaciated: his shrunken legs were in front a mass of black and loathe- some scabs from his loins to his toes, and as he crawled slowly and painfully toward them, with his hands resting upon Meanwhile” through to the mouth of the Rio Virgin, his knees, the men, with exclamations; of tost uncon- One day he saw some lizards and tried to ? astonishment and pity went to meet and assist him. They brought him into their camp, gave him food, washed and anoint ed his sores, and clothed him. The re vulsion of feeling was too nuch for White. He became delirious, and remained so for some hours; but toward evening his wandering senses returned, and he was able to give an account of himself. James Ferry, U. S. Quatermaster’s Agent at Callville, on hearing of the conduct of the Pah-Utes, sent out a runner for their chief, whom he compelled to restore ev erything that had been taken from White, and then dismissed him with certain moral and humanitarian exhortations, which it is to be hoped will do him good. He took White to his house, and kept him there until he had recovered, so far as he could recover, from the effects of his terrible voyage. When I last heard of White, he was carrying the mail be tween Callville and Fort Mojave. At the latter place, Gen. Wm. J. Palmer, Treasurer of the Union Pacific Railway Company, E. D., saw and conversed with him, and from his statements was satisfied that the length of the Grand Canon is not less than five hundred miles, and that its thorough scientific explora tion, while not absolutely impossible, will present difficulties which will not soon be surmounted. General Palmer thinks the numerous falls in the canon have been formed by immense masses of rock which have fallen into the river from its walls. I believe the course of the Colorado might be advantageously diverted above the canon; and, from the character of the country above and around it, I think it probable that if this were done, a large quantity of gold might be found in the river bed. A Mystery Solved—A Fly Leaf from a Detective’s Note-book. From the St, Louis Republican^ Buttonholing one of our reporters on his customary rounds yesterday morning, a well- known detective, whose name it will not be, necessary to mention, narrated a chapter from his personal history which borders closely on the romantic. His story, as told in his own language, was in substance as follows: “Do you remember the mystery I was en gaged in solving when we last met?” he asked, and. without waiting for an answer, continued, “Well, I will tell you the sequel. Mrs. A., you recollect, lost the ring, and Nel lie was suspected of stealing it. The morning after the ball, while sleeping in her own chamber, the ring was removed from her finger without arousing its owner. No one but Nellie bad access to tbe apartment, and she must have taken it. So thought Mrs. A., so thought her husband, and so did I, when I was sent for and given the points in the-case, before being employed to work it up. The ring was set with diamonds, a cluster of exceeding brilliancy and richness. Its value could not have been less than $G00. Nellie was employed as Mrs. A.’s waiting maid, at wages which in four years would scarcely have aggregated the value of the diamonds. Every stone in the set was worth a year of Nellie’s life and labor, albeit neither nor all of them could have dropped a single drop of water on a parching tongue, or stroked a fevered brow when it was racked with pain. At the instance of Mrs. A, Nellie was arrest ed, upon the accusation of stealing the ring. She professed her innocence in tears, but all tbe circumstances looked so strongly to wards her guilt, her tears were unavailing. I followed her to the jail, and at my sug gestion she was assigned a cell by her self. The next day I visited her, and by every means I dared to employ sought to gain from her a confession.' At length I attempted to intimidate her, and harshly charged her with the theft. Again she burst into tears, and biding her face in her hands, wept as though her heart would break. Here the matter ended, for I could go no further. I had forgotten to tell you before that Nellie was handsome, and she never seemed half so beautiful in my eyes as when the tears were falling from her own, in a shower of diamonds, every one of them more precious than those I was after. I left the cell completely baffled; although I never told as much to Mrs. A., or intimated as much to Nellie, I was satisfied of her inno- cense, and forthwith turned my efforts in another direction. I continued my visits to Nellie in lier cell day after day, but never afterwards alluded to the ring. A week had passed, and I had all but given up the job in despair. Finally, early one morning, while loitering down a certain street in the direction of the river, I instinct ively paused under three balls and began closely scrutinizing a display of pledges in the window of “ my uncle’s” shop. In an instant my eye singled out of a whole case of rings one which I thought might be, and, as fortune would have it, proved to be identi cally that stolen from Mrs. A.’s finger. I had but little difficulty in tracing the thief. It was Mrs. A.’s own son. To satisfy a debt contracted during a debauch, he had taken it from his mother’s finger while sleeping and pawned ft. “ But how about Nellie V you ask. She, ton, was guilty of a theft; but I forgave her. She is now my wife. ADouble Surprise.—The New York Sun gives the following particulars of a surprise party which took place at the residence of a young widow B., in Hoboken, N. J„ a few evenings since: A party of congenial spirits bad arranged a surprise party for the fun- loving widow, and had fixed upon a certain evening for carrying out their design. In the meantime, the widow had fixed upon the same evening for uniting her destiny with that of a gay and festive bachelor from Williamsburg. It was intended to have the wedding come off se cretly, as the widow wished to surprise her friends on the next day by appearing in her old role of the “wife.” The bridal party, consisting of the_minister, the widow and a female friend, the “gay bach” an l r male friend, had gathered in the hack parlor, the marriage ceremony was about to commence, when ting a ling-a ling went the door-bell, in rushed a bevy of laughing, chatting belles and beaux, and in ft m'oment the front parlor was taken possession of by the jolly group. T.he interesting ceremony to take place on the other side of the folding doors was suspended, and the widow, comprehend ing the situation, resolved not to- wait till morning before surprisir g her friends, but to spring the grand roup upon them at once. Sliding back the double doors, the blushing bride stood before her astonished visitors, arrayed in bridal robes, and addressed them as follows: “My friends, I perceive that you intend this as a pleasant surprise for my en joyment, and as one good turn deserves another, I offer you a surprise in return. As yon came in I was on the point ot being married to my friend, Mr. W , of Williamsburg; please arrange yonreelves and witness the ceremony.” It is needless to add that the party remained, and everything went off as merry as several marriage bell?. THE CATACOMBS OF PA&XS. Correspondence of the Pall Mall Gazette.] Paris, Aug.'17. It is not easy for the ordinary English sight-seer in Paris to satisfy his curiosity ky a descent into the famous catacombs —difficilis descensus. Formerly one of the regular sights of this capital, they have now been closed now to the general pub lic, and I have met but very few Paris ians of the younger generation who have explored those dismal vaults. Four times a year the metropolitan surveyors officially inspect the great ossuary, to re port on the condition of the pillars and piers which have been built to prop the excavated galleries, and a select few, whose application to the Prefect of the Seine have been backed by influential recommendations are allowed on these oc casions to accompany them. Notice that the expedition is about to proceed is of ten received many months after the ap plication has been sent to the Hotel de Ville, and a prolonged residence in Paris seems to be an indispensable condition for obtaining a sight of the catacombs. I was fortunate enough a few days ago to accompany one of these periodical vis its of inspection. The appointed place of meeting was in the courtyard at the back of the office for collecting the octroi, at the former Barriere d’Enfer. M. Nadar, in the bulky Paris guide which was printed for the use of visitors to the exhi bition last year, describes midnight as the hour usually appointed for these excur sions, but this is probably merely a liter ary artifice, destined to throw additional gloom over his narrative. We met at noon in considerable numbers, chatting in every language of Europe, and all pro vided with candles, railway lamps and matches. On the arrival of the metro politan surveyors, the dooy of a low build ing, which occupies one side of the court yard, was unlocked, and displayed a steep flight of narrow step3 leading under ground. The inspectors mustered the company, the candles were lit, and one by one we descended. The hubbub of con versation was at once hushed. We were about to visit the silent abodes of tbe dead. Perhaps some of us involuntarily remembered ghastly tales of men ho had lost their way in this subterranean laby rinth, and had never returned to their friends and the brignt sunshine above. Ninety steps led to level ground, and we walked during twenty minutes or half an hour through a narrow, damp, low passage, cut in the calcareous rock. By raising my hand I could easily touch the vault above. Right and left we passed by innumerable openings leading away into mysterious gloom and silence. They were each closed with a wooden bar rier, so that we could not, had we been tempted, turn from the right path. Sur veyors opened and closed the march. We were in the ancient quarries from which the stone Paris is built of has been extracted from the Roman period, down to the reign of Louis XIV. The subter ranean galleries extend under the sub urbs of St. Germain, St. Jaques, and St. Marcel. The neighborhood of the Lux emburg Palace and Gardens, and of the Pantheon, are undetermined by them. But probably they have not the vast ex tent or depth which popular legend as cribes to them. Towards the end of last century great alarm was felt throughout Paris by the sudden sinking of several houses near the Barriere d’Enfer. Even at present, purchasers are shy of investing in the building plots that have been re cently created bv the ruthless destruction of part of the Luxemburg Gardens, in consequence of the doubtful reputation for stability of the ground. Since the occur rence of the accidents above mentioned, subterranean Paris has been carefully surveyed by order of the municipal au thorities. Large sums have been spent on props and pillars, on piers and but tresses, and a curious map of the cata combs has been published bvM. de Four- cy, O. E. The cellars of M. Dumfeil’s great brewery occupy galleries of these old quarries, and persons who are curious to form an idea of the catacombs of Paris can do so easily by applying at No. 15 Rue du Marche aux Chevaux, the count ing-house of the brewer) - . The entrances to the quarries, of which there were more than sixty, it is said, have been for the most part closed. We reached the gate of the necropolis. It is painted black, flanked with columns, and bears the inscription HAS. ULTRA. METAS. REQUIESCUNT. BEAT- AM. 8PEM. SPECTAKTES. The vast ossuary into which we now entered was formed in the following man ner : In 178-1 intramural interments were discontinued in Paris, by an order in council, and the old church-yard of the Innocents was first cleared; other burial places followed, and were closed and clear ed in their turn. Respect for the dead is one of the most deeply noted of the re ligious feelings of the French people, as every one who has visited the cemetery of Pere la Chaise knows, and as recent debates in the Senate, on the proposed removal of part of the cemetery of Mont- marte, prove. A Frenchman who neg lects to visit the tomb of his parents, and at least once a year to decorate it with wreaths, is very ill-thought of; and the utilitarians in France have not yet been successful in demonstrating to theircoun- trymen that old church-yards are but quarries of phosphate of lime. The bones were carefully removed at the end of the last century from the closed Par isian church-yards at night, in long trains of funeral cars hung with black, accompanied by priests bearing wax torches, and chanting the litames of the dead. The old quarries were found by the Parisians the most conveuient place in the neighborhood for preserving and ptotecting from desecration the remains of their forefathers, and a portion of the subterranean labyrinth was solemnly consecrated to be used as a cemetery. In a garden of the Rue de la Tombe Is- soire a shaft has been sunk into the cat acombs. Here the long procession halted, the carts were hacked, tilted, and their contents shot down the shaft. This work continued at intervals during many nights. In 1810, and the following years after the restoration of Christian worship in France, the catacombs were surveyed, pillars were built, and drains made to carry off the water. The bones were carefully arranged along the walls of the vaults, keeping distinct the cemeteries from which they were originally brought. Theskulls form three rows in most places; the space between them is filled by the large arm and leg bones, carefully piled; the ribs, vertabra?, and all the smaller bones fill in promiscuous heaps the space left between the rows of skulls and the rock. In many of tlie recesses or chapels which we passed, the workmen employed in arranging these ghastly objects have indulged their sense for the beautiful, and. have built up ornamented and variea designs with the horrid fragments at their disposal. Inscriptions on stone in dicate the cemeteries from which the re mains have come. All human bones brought to light by the actual rebuilding of Paris are conveyed to the catacombs. The most recent additions appear to have been contributed in 1861, by the ceme- . tery ofVaurigard. At equal distances stone tablets are set up, with inscribed sentences on life, death and eternitv, se lected from Holy Writ, Thomas a’lf emp- is, Seneca and the Latin authors, from Lamartine, Delille, from Ducius, and even inferior poets. My wish to copy some of them was somewhat uncivilly interrupted by one of the surveyors tell ing me that we could not pass the whole day underground. On one of the princi pal pillars are carved the words—me mento. quia, pulvis. es. And on a well which occupies apparently the cen ter of the labyrinth, sicut unda. dies. Nostri. fltjxerunt. The concentrated light of all our caudles failed to reveal the unhappy gold-fish which are said to enliven its waters. A collection of dis eased bones, which are kept separate, would be of more use to suffering human ity in the glass cases of a pathological museum than in these inaccessable re cesses. It is impossible to retain from the thought that among the rows of skulls which grin upon us from right and left as we pass along, some must have belonged to the most eminent men in France and adorned the salons of Paris bv the brains which they once contained. To heighten our interest, we were told by one of the inspectors that the skull of Louis Philip pe Egalite was undoubtedly among those which had been brought from the- churchyard of the Rue de la Ville l’Eye- que. No doubt, an experienced: phrenol ogist would confidently point it out. It is computed that about three millions of skulls, if not more, adorn the walls of the catacombs of Paris. To us, the dark gal leries through which we wandered seeped : to form an intricate labyrinth, but, some-' how or other, they led us back to the black gate by which we had entered. We passed, about two hours among the shades below, and were heartily glad to see the daylight again. ■ Tea as a Medical Stimulant.—The last number of the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal contains an interesting cotcmunication upon the action of them on the human system. Thein is an inte gral part of tea, and gives to that herb its peculiar force as a stimulant. It is also found in coffee, and in certain South American plants, whose leaves are used to prepare a table beverage. The author of the article in question made several ex periments of thein upon human cases. It was found that in every instance the pulse was lowered, a nervous tremulous ness followed, and special mental activi ty was noticeable. One gentleman, un der the influence of this alkaloid, spoke emphatically of his “increased brain pow er, enabling him to read certain books, which hehad before accounted as abstruse, with the greatest ease, and an extraordi nary power of grasping the subject with out any effort, as he read rapidly on.” The testimony of one of the most power-. ful writers among our New England wo men is also adduced. Her testimony was to the effect that “some hours after taking a large quantity of tea, she felt that there was nothing, left but her head, which fur nished rapidly language of ideas of the best quality, and in good quantity, all night long.” In its radical form thein is em ployed as a sedative. This, by the way, appears something like a strong allopa thic indorsement of Hahneman’s theory. It cures neuralgic headaches, where pills are objected to. Them ointment for the hair is found to have like effect. Pas- tiles made with thine, when burnt in a room, are said to produce au equally soothing effect to irritable nerves.' Besources of the South.—Some idea of the immense resources of , the South and its recuperative qualities may he de rived from a statistical statement lately published by Alexander Delmar. It is there shown that on June SO, 1866, the population of the South amounted to 9,- 568,706, and of all the States together to 34,505,882; that the exports of the South for that vear amounted to $212,000,000, whereas’in 1820, the entire population of the United States scarcely exceeded that of the South forty years* after, and the entire exports only amounted to $51,000,- 000. In 1850, with a population of 23,- 000,000, the exports of the United States only reached $136,000,000. The South now, with not one-half the population; exports annually, double that sum. No where else upon the earth do such ele ments of latent prosperity exist; and en tirely undeveloped as yet remains by far the largest proportion of its territory, and it plainly snows that an industrial popu lation, honestly laboring, will, in a com paratively short time, raise it to the most prosperous the sun ever shown upon. The only thing requisite is to be relieved from political annoyances and disabili ties, and then bend' our united energies to its development. This course pursued, the reaping hook will soon conquer what the sword lost to us.—Augusta Ckremicfa and Sentinel. A