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BY J. P. SAWTELL.
E. H. PURDY,
MaovUnCWtrer of
Sales, Harness and Trouts,
Atld Wholesale and Retail Dealer in
All kinds of Sadlerv Ware,
Corner of Whitaker and Bryan Sts.,
SAVANNAH, GA.
for R |l ' ,l,er Belting, Hose and;
Packing; alm>, Stretched Leather Belting,'
(filled promptly. sepl7-6tn
J. CUILHAiiTIN. JO#K»I.I»NtRT.
L. J, GUILMARTIN & CO.,
Cotton Factors,
AND
General Comnission Merchants,
Bajr St.; Savannah, Ga.
A.yents for Bradley's Super Phos
phate of Lime , Powelts Mills
Yarns and Domestics , etc.
Bagsing. Rope and Iron Ties, al
ways on hand.
J3T: Urual Kacilitiea Fxtended to Customers.
iepl7-ftm
A. J. MILLER & CO.,
FURNITURE DEALERS,
150 Broughton Street,
SJfVAMAH, GEORGIA.
WE HAVE ON HAND, and are con
thiually receiving, every variety of
Parlor and Bedroom Sets,
Bureaux, Washstands, Bedsteads, Chairs,
Rockers, Wardrobes. Meat Safes, Cradles,
Looking Glasses, Feathers, Featherbeds, ril
'Tlalrjdosx, Shock and Excelcior Matrasses
on hand, and made to order.
Jobbing and Repairing neatly dote, and
with despatch.
We are folly prepared to fill orders. |
Country orders promptly attended to.
All letters of inquiry answered promptly.
sej|7-6ai.
MARIETTA MARBLE TARD.
L ~
£ AM PREPARED TO FURNISH
Marble, Monuments,
Tombs, Head and Foot Stones,
Vaces, Urns, YauUs, etc,,
JLt very reasonable terms , made of
Italian, American and Georgia
marble.
IRON RAILING Put Up to Order.
For information or designs address me at
Alii* place, or
Dli. T. 8. POWELL, Agent.
Cotlibrrt, Ga
Add ree«,
J. A. BISANER,
iepl7 6m Marietta, Ga.
GEOBGE S. HART & CO.,
Commission merchants,
And Wholesale Dealers in
Fine Butter, Cheese, Lard, etc.,
39 l’earl and 28 Bridge Sts., N. Y.
IGgT Batter and Lard, of all grades, put mp
'in every variety oi package, for Shipment t<>
Warm Climates. eepl7-6m*
? REED & CLARKE,
No. 22, Old Slip, New York,
. DEALERS IN
PROVISIONS,
Onions, Potatoes, Butter, etc.
•eptl7-6m
ELY, OBERHOLSTER & CO.,
Importers and Jobbers in
DVy Goods,
Vos. 329 & 331 Broadway,
Comer of Worth Street.
New York.
r ATER WHEEL,
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700U*
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Manafactnrers of
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Steam Engines and Boilers
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Circular Saw Mill
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chines, Ac. Dealers m Circnlsr Shwb, Belt
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turer's rgents for Lt-ffel’s Celebrated Turbin*
Water Wheel and every description of Wood
Working Machinery. Agricultural Engines
a Specialty.
Sena lor descriptive Catalogues & Price
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CUTHBERT Hjf APPEAL.
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A Young Lady’s Soliloquy.
Uselessly, aimlessly, drifting through life.
What was 1 born for; “For Somebody’s
wife,”
lam told by my mother. Well, that being
true,
“ Somebody ” keeps himself strangely from
view:
And if naught but marriage will settle my
fate,
I believe I shall die in an unsettled state.
For, though.l’m not ugly—pray, what wo
man is?
You might easily find a more beautiful pbfa;
And then, os lor temper and manners, ’tis
plain
He who seeks for perfection .will seek here
in vain.
Nay, in spite of these drawbacks, my heart
is perverse,
And I should not feel grateful * for better or
worse”
To take the first booby that graciously came,
And offered those treasures—his home and
his name.
I think, then, my chances of marriage are
small;
But why should I think of such chawces at
all?
My brothers are, all of them, younger than I,
Yet they thrive in the world, and why not
let me try ?
I know that in business I’m not an adept,
Because from such matters most strictly I’m
k«*pt 1
But—this is the question that puzzles my
mind—
Why am I not trained up to work of some
kind?
Uselessly, aimlessly, drifting through life,
Why should I wait to be “ .Somebody's
wife ?”
From the Waverley Magazine.
Paul Jagode’s Ghost Story.
»
BY B. F. ItABSH.
Paul Jagode, from whose lips I
had the following story, was a man
who liad travelled much, and whose
life had been filled with strange ad*
ventures. Possessed of a good ed
ucation, and being a careful ob
server, he had gathered a fund of
information which made him one
of the most interesting men in con
versation that I have ever met.—
His anecdotes were literally inex
haustible, and many were the tales
he told of wild adventure and dar
ing enterprise, upon land and sea ;
but the one which remains the
most firmly fixed in my mind is the
following, which I shall relate as
nearly as possible in his own words.
Several years ago (he began) I
was engaged in the business of
peddling among the frontier towns
of Canada. The route over which
I was accustomed to travel, usually
occupied me about six weeks; and
so scattering were the settlements
which I visited, that not uufre
quently I was obliged to encamp
tor the night in the woods. I car
ried my goods in a pack upon my
back, and was accompanied in my
journeys back and forth by a huge
hound mastiff, one of the most in
telligent brutes I ever saw, and
devotedly attached to me. Os
course 1 was armed. In addition
to a pair of good revolvers and a
knife, I carried a cane which I used
as a staff in walking, but which I
could upon occasiou instantly-con
vert into a most deadly weapon. —
It was charged with a heavy load
of buck shot, and was quite as ef
fective as a blunderbuss.
Much of my journey lay through
a rough country just beginning to
be broken up by the pioneer, and
often for miles I had to travel
through forests which none but the
trapped, or men engaged in some
business like my own, had ever vis
ited.
One afternoon I was seated on
the banks of a little stream, res
ting from my walk, and being
warm and tired I proceeded to
bathe my face, While thus en
gaged I noticed a little path which
led from the water’s edge up back
into the forest. I knew at a glance
that it was made by deer aud other
animals coming ’down. to drink, and
impelled by curiosity, I determined
to follow it up for a short distance.
I had passed less than a quarter
of a mile, when I suddenly came
upon an opening in the woods, of
several acres, in the centre of which
stood a good substantial log cabin.
Going to the door, I pushed it open
and took a survey of the premises.
There were but two rooms in the
building, one on the ground, and a
loft overhead, which was reached
by a short ladder. At one end of
the lower room was a huge fireplace,
strewed with ashes and a few
pieces of charred wood, while at
the other, in one corner, a pile of
fir boughs were flung, showing that
some traveller had made it a stop
ping-place for the night ; butjAt
must have been long before, for the
branches he had gathered for a
couch were dried and dead.
Glancing at my watch I saw that
it was half-past five, and the sun
was nearly down. Thinking my
self fortunate in securing so good a
CUTHBERT, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1870.
camping-place (for I had formerly
stopped in a little chamber formed
by a ledge of rocks, a mile or so
beyond), I proceeded to gather
some dry sticks and kindle a fire.
Dry wood there was in abundance,
for directly in front of the cabin,
and but a few rods away, stood a
blasted pine tree which the light
ning had shivered, and scattering
splinters and boughs for rods around;
and I soon had a cheerful fire bla
zing and snapping on the hearth.—
Then, gathering a few armfuls of fir
boughs for a bed, and extempori
sing a rough seat, my dog and I be
took ourselves to supper. He seem
ed to be as well pleased with the
situation as myself, and after eat
ing the food I gave him, went and
stretched in the doorway.—for it
was a pleasant spring evening—and
composed himself for a nap, while
I, filling* my pipe, indulged in a
smoke and a reverie.
For a long time after my pipe
had gone out, I sat watching the
fire creeping np the dried wood,
now burning steadily, aad now
leaping with sudden flame as it
caught at some part more combus
tible than the rest At length, tired
with my day’s journey, I nodded
and fell asleep, but was soon awa
kened by the growling of my dog.
Rising and rubbing my eyes, I went
cautiously to the door and looked
about me. Everything was quiet,
and the full moon j ust peering over
the tops of the forest tree, streaked
the clearing here and there with
patches of mellow light.
‘‘What is it Brave, old fellow,
eh ?” said I, speaking to the dog.
He wagged his tail, whined, and
snuffed the air uneasily. Satisfied
that something was wrong, I cocked
a pistol and went out into the
moonlight, closely followed by the
dog. 1 went around the cabin—
there was nothing to be seen. I
peered into the shadows *of the
woods about me—all was still, save
that the branches now and then
swayed to and fro with the evening
wind.
Satisfied that there was nothing
within the opening, yet feeling a
little uneasy, I entered the cabin,
replenished the fire, and was about
to close the door, when, as if in
answer to a threatening growl from
my dog, there came a quick, sharp
blow against the side ol the build
ing, similar to that which could be
produced by striking with a piece of
board. With a short, savage bark
Brave sprang out of the open door,
while I, with a pistol in readiness
for instant use, followed. There
was nothing to be seen, although I
made a most careful search, and
everything was as quiet as before;
but there was something very
strange about it, for tho dog came
to me with a half whine, half growl,
his hair bristling, and he sniffing the
air and looking uneasily overhead.
A thought struck me. Had not
some persons been in the cabin, and
seeing me coming, concealed them
selves in the chimney, and were
they not now, with some object iu
view, trying to frighten mo ? Im
possible ! for the smoke from the
resinous pine I had burned would
soon have driven them out, or suffo-
cated them in their hiding-place.
“Brave,” said I, “we are a couple
of fool 8; there is no one here, and
everything is all right; if it isn’t
we’ll make it right in the morning.”
As I spoke these words I reach
ed the door, and was in the act of
entering, when without the least
noise, with a motion silent as death
itself, a huge bird, black as mid
night, came swooping past so close
that it almost brushed my face with
its wings. On that instant the dog
sprang, and though his motion was
as swift as lightning itself, and I
could swear that he grasped it iu
his jaws, yet I heard them clash
together with a snap like a steel
trap, while the bird, swooping up
ward, settled itself on a branch df
the blasted pine.
“Born in the woods and scared
by an owl!” I repeated to myself ;
but looking at the dog, I saw that
he had slunk into the cabin, and
was shivering with fright. Almost
angry at his actions, I commanded
him sharply to come to me aud he
obeyed, though reluctantly.
“Now, Brave,” said I, “you are
too wise and old a dog to be scared
by a paltry owl, though he is a big
one. He’ll be giving us some of
his infernal music presently, and as
I don’t care about that kind of a
serenade, I’ll drive him back into
the woods.”
So saying, I picked up a handful
of stones and began trying to fright
en away my unwelcome visitor. —
But the more I wanted him to
leave, the more he wouldn’t go, and
though on several occasions I was
sure I struck him, still he never al
tered his position, or budged an
inch. Now when I start to do a
thing I like to carry it through, and
so without thinking of what the
consequences might be, I drew one
of my pistols and fired at the
strange bird. The report rang
sharply out upon, the night air, and
went echoing through the forest and
over the bills for miles and miles
away. Half frightened at what I
had done, and provoked that he did
not stir, I fired again and again.—
How strange it was that I could not
hit that bird ! did I miss ray aim?
lam a good shot—it was almost as
light as day, and he was not over
twenty feetvdistant.
Going into Hie cabin I reloaded
my pistol, and being now fully
aroused and provoked at iny want
of success, I determined that this
time at least he should not escape
me. I got my cane, adjusted it, and
goiug underneath the tree, took de
liberate aim, and fired. The piece
was heavily loaded, and the dis
charge almost deafened me; but
when the smoke had cleared, away
and I looked upwards, the bird was
gone.
“I thought I’d fix you that time,”
I muttered.
Gone ! yes, it surely was gone—
but where? I looked in the air
above me—on the ground around
me; 1 peered into the tree to see if
perchance it had lodged in any of
the branches; I listened, that I
might hear it flutter, if but wound
ed : but there was no sound save
the wind moaning through the dead
branches of the tree above me, that
stood withered, blasted and ghastly,
like a thing accursed, in the pale
moonlight.
Partially satisfied in that the bird
had disappeared, and musing on the
strange occurrence, I took my way
into the cabin,*reloaded my piece,
securely fastened the door, and call
•iDg my dog close to me lay down
on the branches to sleep, resolved
that I would suffer no more myste
rious sounds or strange birds to an
noy me. With my faithful dog at
hand and my arms in readiness for
use, a feeling of security came over
me, and I fell into a sound slumber.
i must have slept for several
hours, for when I woke the fire was
burning but feebly, and its flicker
ing, dying flames cast weird and
grotesque shadows on the wall.—
But what was the strange presence
in the room that made my flesh
creep, and the perspiration to staud
in cold drops upon my brow ? I
grasped a pistol, but I could sec
nothing; £ listened—there was
nothing that I could hear; yet a
strange sense of impending and
appalling danger almost paralyzed
me. It came at length, as I knew
it would —a wailing sound, at first
faintly heard, but swelling louder
until it reached in its hideous inten
sity to the pitch of an unearthly
yell; then again all was still.
I sprang to my feet; there was
nothing in the room but my dog,
who stood with burning eyes and
bristling hair, glaring at the open
ing in the loft overhead.
“By all the gods of earth and
air!” I shouted, “I’ll see this thing
out if it costs my life !” And kind
ling the tire to a roaring flame, I
seized a blazing brand in one hand
and a pistol in the other, and climb
ed to the loft above.
I searched in every nook and cor
ner where even a mouse might hide;
I went around it again and again ;
I descended to the open air, and
peered into places which I had ex
amined a dozen times before
Nothing was changed. The old
pine still stretched its long, gaunt
arms in the moonlight, and the
wind sighed and moaned like the
wail of a wandering spirit, through
its shivered boughs.
I entered the cabin, took up my
pack, and resolved to pass the re
mainder of the night beneath the
open sky; but a feeling of pride
prevented me, and closing the door
once more, I flung myself upon my
bed.
Suddenly, as I lay pondering up
on the mysterious manifestations, a
livid gleam, like lightning shot
from the loft overhead, and that
yell came once more—not as at first,
slowly and indistinctly, but sharp
ly and fearfully sudden; then it
died away like a death groan. The
fire, which was burning brightly,
with a sudden hiss went out, and
the room was left in utter darkness,
Then a little vapory ball of light
appeared at the opening in the loft;
it grew brighter and brighter, till
the room was as light as day, and
from the centre of that vapory ball
a hand appeared—a hand !—with
moving fingers that seemed search
ing the air for something they found
not. It moved towards me; at first
the hand alone, but soon a wrist,
and then an arm appeared, length
ening, lengthening, and slowly
stretching out to grasp me. Great
God! was there no end to that arm !
My dog was crouched beside me,
but not in fear now ; his eyes were
fixed with a steady glow upon that
moving nand, and every nerve Was
btaced for a deadly spring.; and
when at last it had reached so
frightfully near that I might have
touched it with my hand, and I
shouted, “Take him, Brave!” the
noble creature leaped with panther
spring from the boughs beside me.
There was a growl,*a crash, and a
smothered fall, and then 1 was
caught in a vice-like grasp. I
struggled to free myself, but in
vain; and wheu at last * pair of
clammy arms were wound arouud
my neck, and a death-white face
pressed close to mine, I gave a
shriek of terror and despair, and
folt my senses leave me.
I knew no more till I woke to
find my faithful dog licking my face
and whining piteously, and I lying
under the tree on the bank of the
stream where I had stopped to
rest. ’Twas only a dream after all,
but so frightfully real did it seem,
that it was hours before I recover
ed my strength or composure of
mind.
It was the last trip I ever made
upon that route, for I never could
shake off the impression made upon
me by the dream. I believe it to
have been a warning of danger
ahead, and I shudder now, and ev
er shall, as I think of that afternoon’s
nap in the woods of Canada.
“Man-,” says Adam Smith, “is
an animal that makes bargains.
No other animal does this—no dog
exchanges bones with another.
General Robert E. Lee—A Sketch.
Robert E. Lee was born at Strat
ford in 1806. His family has been
distinguished in Virginia for two
hundred years. Two of his grand
uncles were signejs of the Declara
tion of Independence. His father
was the famous “Light Horse, Har
ry,” of revolutionary fame, who
served terms in the Federal Con
gress and as Governor of Virginia,
and whose first wife was also a Lee.
Robert E. Lee was the issue of a
second marriage—the second son
of Henry Lee and his wife Anne,
daughter of Charles Carter, of
Shirley. As, however, he borrows
no greatness from his ancestry, but
was himself the “greatest of a great
line,” we shall say no more as to his
family.
Robert E. Lee entered West Point
Academy in 1825, and graduated at
the end of the usual term without
having had a demerit mark. In
1829 he was appointed brevet sec
ond lieutenat, and assigned to the
corps of topographical engineers.—
He served for several years in this i
oorps. In 1832 he was married to
Miss Custis, the daughter of George
Washington Parke Custis, the
adopted son of General W ashington.
In 1836 he was made first lieutenant,
and in 1838 captain. During the
Mexican war he was on tne staff
first of General Wool, and then
General Seott, as chief engineer.
At the battle of Cerro Gordo,
April 18, 1847, he was brevetted
major for gallantry. At Chapulte
pee, he was wounded September 13,
1847, and was brevetted lieutenant
colonel. General Scott repeatedly
spoke of him, in his dispatches, as
remarkable for his gallantry. Col
onel Lee was next appointed a
member of the Board of Engineers.
In 1862, he became superintendent
of West Point Academy. In 1855,
he was assigned to service in a cav
alry regiment, which took ‘him to
the West. In 1859, be was sent to
Harper’s Ferry to put down the
John Brown raid. March 16 1861,
he was made colonel of cavalry in
the United States army. His res
ignation of his office in that array
was dated April 20, 1861.
Early in 1861, the convention of
Virginia selected General Lee as
commander-in chief of the forces of
this State her fortunes not having
at the time been formally united
with those of her Southern sisters.
When the State joined the Confed
eracy, he became a Confederate offi
cer. After the defeat of General,
Garnett by McClelian, and his sub'
sequent death General Lee was sent
to northwest Virginia, where he
did not distinguish himself. He
was recalled by Mr. Davis, and, on
account of his great skill as an en
gineer, he was sent to examine the
defences on the Atlantic coast.
In May, 1862, McClellan marched
up the peninsula. The battle of
Seven Pines took place, in which
Ceneral Jos. Johnston was wounded,
and General liee was put in his
stead in command of the Confeder
ate forces. Soon followed the great
battles before Richmond from Me
chanicsville to Malvern Hill, in
which General Lee’s name became
famous the world over. In these
battles more than ton thousand
prisoners were taken, fifty-two
pieces of artillery, and upwards of
thirty-five thousand stand of small
arms. From this time forth the
hopes of the people of the South
were centerod in General Lee. The
whole army was placed in his hands.
He it was that ordered all its move
ments and was entitled to the cred
it for the strategy employed. He
ordered the movements which re
sulted in the famous battles of the
following August—Cedar mountain,
Second Manassas, &c. On the third
of September his army crossed the
Potomac, and on the seventeenth
was fought the grand battle of
Sharpsburg. General Lee always
claimed this as a victory. His ar
my, however, returned to Virginia
at once.
On the 13th of December, 1862,
occurred the battle of Fredericks
burg, one of the most complete suc
cesses of the war. In 1863, May
2d, the battle of the Wilderness
was fought. The success here,too,
was complete,- but Jackson fell.—
Here, too, General Lee showed the
greatness of his heart in that cele
brated letter to the dying chieftain
in which he said that for his coun
try’s sake he could wish it had been
himself instead of Jackson that had
been wounded. On the 4th of May
the battle was renewed and resulted
In the defeat of the Federal army
and its retreat, with a loss of 1 1 ,000
killed, wounded and prisoners, four
teen pieces of artillery, and 30,000
stand of arms. This was called the
battle of Chancellorsville.
General Lee again marched north
wards. He went into Pennsylvania
with his little army, and there on
the ’Sd and 8d of July, 1863, fought
the bloody battles which, though
rather drawn batlest than victories
for eiter side, much more seriously
damaged that army whose losses
could not be repaired.
In May, 1864, occurred the bat
tles of the Wilderness, Spotsylvania
Court-house, etc., etc. General
Grant was constantly repulsed, but
as constantly renewed his flank
movements until he landed upon
the banks of the James. There
were many battles of more or less
importance during ] 864 and the be
ginning of 1865. April 2d, 1865,
occurred the evacuation of Rich
mond, and began the retreat of
General Lee’s army from Peters
burg April 9. he surrendered a skel
eton of an army to overwhelming
numbers. And thus ended his mili*
tary career.
In August 1865, General Lee was
made President of Washington Col
lege. His name and fame soon
made that ft popular institution.—
He continued to hold the position
ontil his death.
The Sword of Lee.
BY REV. A. J. RYAN.
Forth from its scabbard, pure_and bright,
Flashed the sword of Lee
Far in the front of the deadly fight.
High o’er the brave in the canae of right,
Its stainless sheen, like a beacon light,
Led us to victory.
Out of its scabbard, where full long
It slumbered peacefully—
Roused from its rest by the battle song,
Shielding tke feeble, smiting the strong,
Guarding the right, avenging the wrong—
Gleamed the sword of Lee!
Forth from its scabbard, high In air,
Beneath Virginia’s sky—
And they who saw it gleaming there
And knew who bore it, knelt to swear
That where that sword led, they would dare
To follow and to die.
Out of its scabbard never hand
Waved sword from stain as free,
Nor purer sword led braver band,
Nor braver bled for a brighter land,
Nor brighter land-bad a cause as grand,
Nor cause a chief like Lee 1
The Catholic Bishop op Savan
nah.—Rt Rev. Ignatius Persico
whose arrival in this city on Satur
day was noticed by this journal on
Sunday morning, was duly installed
Bishop of Savannah at the Sunday
morning half past ten o’clock Mass
in the Cathedral. The ceremonies
were solemn and impressive, lit.
ReV. Bishop Verot, the predecessor
of Bishop Persico turning th# See
of Savannah over to the new incum
bent. At the conclusion of the in
stallation ceremonies the new Bish
op celebrated Pontifical High Mass.
Bishop Persico is a native of Ita
ly, and was born in the Kingdom
of .Naples, early in 1823. Ho was
consecrated Priest when bnt twen
ty-three years of age, and was im
mediately sent as a Missionary to
India. When but thirty-one years
of age he was consecrated Bishop,
and in 1857 was appointed Bishop,
of Agru.
On account of the failure of his
health he returned to Naples in the
latter part of the year 1860, and in
1867 came to Charleston, S. C. Du
ring the last three years he labored
as a missionary in the different
Southern States, though the most
of his time was occupied in South
Carolina, until the session of the
Ecumenical Cou.qcil opened, when
he returned to Rome.
At the conclusion of the Vesper
service Sunday afternoon, Hon. D.
A. O’Bryne, of this city, in hehalf
of the Catholic laity of this see,
welcomed the new Bishopin eloquent
language.
In response to this address the
Bishop, who evidently was much
impressed by a occasion, replied el
oquently and feelingly. —Savannah
Republican.
The Protestant Cow.
Paddy Murphy and his wife
Bridget, after many years of hard
labor in ditching and washing, had
accumulated a sufficiency to pur
chase a cow, (of course they had
pigs,) which they did at the first
opportunity. As it was bought of
a Protestant neighbor, Pat stopped
on his way home at the house of
the priest, to procure a bottle of
holy water with which to exoreiso
the false faith out of her.
“Isn’t she a foine creature ?” ask
ed Pat of the admiring Bridget.—
“Just hold her till I fix the shed.”
To save the precious fluid from
harm, he took it into the house and
set it up in a cupboard until he had
“fixed” things. Then’ho returned
and brought the bottle back, and
while Bridget was holding the
rope, proceeded to pour it upon her
back.
But poor Pat had made a slight
mistake. Standing within the same
closet was a bottle of aquafortis,
that had been procured for a far
different purpose, and, as it drop
ped upon the back of the poor cow,
and the hair began to smoke and
the flesh to burn,she exhibited a de
cided appearance of restlessness.
“Pour on more Paddy,” shouted
Bridget, as she tagged stoutly at
the rope.
“I’ll give her enough now,”
quoth and lie emptied the bot
tle.
Up went the heels of the cow,
down went bcr head, over went
Bridget and half a dozen of the
“childers,” and away dashed the
infuriated bovine down the street,
to the terror of all mothers and
the delight of the dogs.
Poor Pat stood for a moment,
breathless with astonishment, and;
then, clapping his hands upon his
hips, looked sorrow’fnlly after the
retreating cow, and exclaimed:
“Be jabbers Bridget, but isn’t,
the Protestant sthrong in her—the
baste ?’
Complaints are being made
throughout the State of Missipssipi
of negroes having given up the
gathering of their crops, owing to
the low price of cotton. 'ln some
places it is with the utmost diffi
culty that they can be prevailed up
on to pick at all. The Holly
Springs Independent South says ;
‘‘Nearly every farmer that we
have met gives it as his opinion that
not more than one-hail of the cotton
crop that has been raised will be
housed by Christmas.”
—Beware of judging hastily ; it
is better to suspend an opinion than
to retract an assertion.
Carrier Pigeons.
Old times have strangely revived,
in the spectacle now presented at
Paris. The annals of war show no
bombardment of such a city since
the fall of semi mythic Babylon.—
In the year of grace 1870 the gay
and splendid city of the world re
produces the scenes of the old feu- 1
dal days, and the harsher experien
ces of the middle ages. King
Richard’s war upon the fortified
cities of the Saracens, and the end
less sieges of mediaeval cities and
baronial castles in Europe, are re
called by the elaborate wall, the
deep, wide moat, with its draw
bridges, its counterscarp, and port
cullis, and the strong array of
chevaux-de-frise abattis work, by
means of which Paris is to-day
seeking to defend itself, on the in
side of its surrounding line of exte
rior forts. Modem warfare has on
ly substituted the mortar and can
non, with their terrible missiles for
attacking fortified walls, in place of
the old battering-rams and catapul-
tas. But for this, we might still
expect to see the besieged cluster
ing on the parapet and hurling
great rocks and showers of boiling
pitch down upon the heads of the
besiegers. All the other ancient
features of a siege seem to be repro
duced ; and, as it is, we hear mys
terious hints of some fearful engine
of destruction which the beleaguer
ed Parisians have devised for de
fensive purposes on the walls.—
Meantime they seem to be pretty
effectually shut out from the rest of
the world. Their only means of
communication with their outside
friends may now be said to consist
of two expedients—balloons and
carrier pigeons. One a modern
agency in war, the other dating
from remote antiquity. And these
restricted methods, owing to the
peculiarity of the situation, are in
their operation necessarily one-si
ded. It proves to be entirely prac
ticable to send a balloon, laden with
bags of letters, from Paris to some
place in the wide surrounding coun
try, south and west of the city,
which the Prussians have not yet
occupied. One of these a3rial mail
carriers, by tho name of Tissander,
braving an upward shower of Prus
sian bullets, has just effected a safe
descent upon friendly ground, and
carried to the nearest post office a
mail consisting of no fewer than
25,000 letters, which the besieged
and isolated Parisians were eager,
to send to their anxious friends in
other parts of France. But if it is
thus feasible to send news by bal
loons out of Paris, it is far other
wise with those who from the coun
try outside would send a balloon
into the city. That is another mat-
ter. The seronant, who places him
self at the sport and mercy of the
winds, can never accurately calcu
late the particular village or town
near which he will safely and sure
ly land ; much less can he rely upon
effecting a safe landing in a city,
like Paris, with its cordon of sharp
shooters encircling it, and its un
favorable array of roofs, chimneys,
columns and trees to oppose his (
safe descent. A judicious calcula
tion of the probable aerial currents,
on any given day, and also of a
number of other essential elements
in the problem, might enable a bold
navigator of the air to go
fully from Tours right into the
heart of the beleaguered capital;
but, in the existing state of the
science of aeronautics, the chances
against it arc too many to warrant
the trial.
The same difficulty seems to exist
with regard to carrier pigeons.—
These birds owe their value as mes
sengers, to their strong perception
of locality, and their still stronger
love of home. They are trained,
when young, by taking them first
a half mile, or a mile from their
home nest, and throwing them up
in the air. Very rarely is one found
so dull as not to find his way home
by a direct line. Then the distance
is increased ; until, at length, grown
birds are thrown up from places
hundreds of miles away, and, cir
cling two or three limes around the
immediate point of departure, they
dart away, impelled by the airy
pinions which the Psalmist longed
for, “the wings of a dove,” and fiy,
like the arrow to its mark, straight
through the pathless fields of air, to
the spot from which the bird had
been taken. This may be a town
or village, ten, fifty, or a hundred
miles distant —it matters not to this
swift courier of the air—of whom
we may almost say, as the enthusi
astic. Michelet says of the frigate
bird, “All distauee vanishes: he
breakfasts at the Senegal ; he dines
in America.” Carrier pigeons in
Europe have been known to fly
ninety miles in an hour ! In onr own
country, pigeons from the rice-fields
of Georgia have been killed in New
York State with the fresh rice still
undigested in their crops ; showing
that they must have traveled that
«rreat distance within eight or ten
hours, or possibly even a less time.
But swift as is their flight, and re
liable as the carrier pigeons may be
for messengers, they must be taken
first from their training places to
the places from w’hence they are to
be sent. On the first probability of
a siege, the Parisians should have
sent their own supply of trained
birds to Belgium, the country
where the art of pigeon training is
(unless we except Turkey) carried
to the highest perfection. Tlte Bel
gians, always friends of the French,
would have exchanged their trained
birds with them, and thus the peo
ple of Paris would have been in
daily communication sending their
VOL. IV—NO. 45
own news and receiving news from
the world outside. Having neglec
ted this simple and humble precau
tion of the besieged in the old Ro
wan wars and in the middle ages,
the people of Paris are now shut in
from outside intelligence, and can
only send news of themselves, which
is done by means of balloons and
such a supply of trained pigeons
from other places as they may pos
sess. The value of such precaution
as we have named would now bo al
most inestimable to Gen. Trochu
and to the people shut up in Paris.
It is stated that an offer of 500,000
francs has been made to any one
who will convey a message to Mar
shal Bazaine in Metz, and return
with his reply. The simple pre
cautionary means of which we have
spoken, by securing from Metz,
Strasbourg, etc., a score or two of
trained carrier pigeons, and send
ing to those places some that were
bred in Paris would now enable the
Parisians to send and receive im
portant news. It is no small mat
ter. Look at Gen. Bourbaki, whose
escape from Metz we have just
chronicled. This officer, escaping
in the guise of a peasant, succeeded
in reaching Belgium, and thence,
learning to his amazement, of the
present residence of the Empress,
he went to England, with messages
for the imperial family—Bazaine,
apparently, being still ignorant of
the Emperor’s downfall!
These strategists of France should
have be thought them, in time, of
the possibilities of modern warfare,
and taken a saving lesson from the
love songs of the old Tourbadours—
‘•Fly away, to my native land, sweet bird.”
Tna Untebbified Watch**.—
In a certain town in New Hamp
shire, there lives a man w’ho is said
to be afraid of neither man nor
spirit, and whenever a joke has
been practiced upon him he has al
ways withstood the test. Not long
since an old gentleman died in the
neighborhood, and our hero was to
“watch” with the corpse. So,some
of the “jokists,” knowing him,
thought it a good chance to see if
he Could be “scart.” They pro
cured a couple of oats, tied tneir
tails together, and at midnight
threw them through a window into
the room, then got back into a tree
to see the fun. Jim, the lonely
watcher, seized a broom that stood
near and went for the cats. Now
the “old gout,” who lay stiff on
the bed, had been troubled with
the rheumatism, and when he died
was crooked up almost double, so
that when he was “laid out,” it was
necessary to tie the corps with
large cords. Jim, in swinging the
broom, happened to hit one of the
ropes and it became loose, conse
quently the corpse came right up
to a sitting posture, and sat facing
Jim with wide-opened eyes. Jim,
turning to attack the cats, saw the
new position of the dead man; but,
instead of b.:ing frightened, he
raised the broom, and with it struck
the corpse a rattling blow on the
head, exclaiming, “You lie down,
blast you! I want none of your as
sistance to get these cats out of the
room.” The “jokists” now knew
that Jim could be fairly classed
among the “unterrified,” and there
fore sloped.
The time to buy an overcoat
—When the fit is on yoa.
Any fool may start a humbug,
but it takes a genius to carry one
on.
“A man can’t help what is
done behind his back,” as the scamp
said when he was kicked out of
doors.
“Tis the voice of the sluggard,
I hear him complain”—as Paddy
said when he heard the pig grunt.
—An American editor cautions
his tall readers against kissing short ’
women, as the habit has rendered
him exceedingly round-shouldered.
The man who got wis3 by eat
ing sage cheese has a brother who
proposes to become skillful in the
fancy dances by dieting on hops.
A punster asks whether: If
Titian’s wife had been named f?olly t
that fact would have made, her a
politician ?
—Why ir, an Italian exilo return
ing to his native land, like a man
going to see his son go up an apple
tree ? Because he is going to seo
bis own sunny clirno.
—ls we would have powerfal
minds we must think; if we would
have faithful hearts wo must love ;
if we would have strong muscles
wo must labor. Toesc include all
that is valuable in life.
—The following question belongs
to the mixed mathematics, and a
great many people have got mixed
up in trying to solve it: If thre.)
cats kill three rats in three minut -s,
how many rats will it take to kill a
hundred cats in fifty minutes ?
—A lawyer built him an office in
Ae form of a hexagon, or the six
sqnare. The novelty of the struc
ture attracted the attention of some
Irishmen who were passing by.—
They made a full stop, and viewed
the building very critically. The
lawyer, somewhat disgusted at
their curiosity, raised the window,*
put his head out, and addressed
them:
“ What do you stand there for,
like a paek of blockheads, gazing at
my office; do you take it for a
church?”
“ Faix,” said one of them, “ I
was thinking so, till I saw the div.
il poke his hea 1 out of the windy.”