SAVANNAH DAILY HERALD.
VOL. I—NO. 59.
The Savannah Daily Herald
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■ i ■ 1- J-Jil'il i-Jl'U'J-J J.-
WHERE THERE’S A WILL, THERE’S
A WAY !
BY J. O . SAXE.
It was a noble Roman,
In Rome'B imperiul day,
Who heard a coward croaker,
Before the battle say :
“ They're safe in such a fortress;
There is no way to shake it—"
••On 1 on !" exclaimed the hero,
“ I’ll find a way, or make it!"
Is Fame your aspiration,
Her path is steep and high :
In vain he seeks the temple,
Content to gaze and sigh!
The shining tnrone is waiting.
But he alone can take it,
Who says with Roman firmness,
•‘l’ll find a way, or make it I’
Is Learning your ambition ?
There is no royal road:
Alike the peer and peasant
Must climb to her abode ;
Who fee’s the thirst for knowledge,
In Helicon may slake it.
If he has still the Roman will
To ’• find a way, or make it l”
Are Riches worth the getting ?
They must be bravely sought;
With wishing and with fretting
The boon can not be bought;
To all the prize is open,
But only he can take it
Who says, with Roman courage,
‘•I'll find a way, or make it!
In Love's impassioned warfare.
The tale has* ever beeL
That victory crowns the valiant,
The brave are they who win;
Though strong is Beauty’s castle
A lover still may take it,
Who says, with Roman daring,
'• I’ll find a way, or make it»"
SNOW FLAKES.
BY LONGFELLOW.
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fief.s forsaken,
Silent and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled hoart doth maKo
In the white countenance confession,
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood ami field.
Australia’s ftmis.—The policy of Eng
land towards her colonies has ever been il
liberal, but the case of Australia is more
marked than any other. This vast island in
the South Atlantic, tor more than three-quar
ters of a century, has been the liftral sink of
the mother country. Hundreds of thousands
of convicts, embracing all sexes, and sen
tenced for all grades of crime, have been
transported to that land, and from those
have sprung a nation ashamed of their an
cestry. With the discoveiy of gold, and
settlement of the most civilized districts of
the country, the Government consented some
years ago to send these criminals only to the
western part of the island, remofe from the
settlements of the better class of citizens.
, I But the people of Australia have deter
mined that their country shall not be made a
place of refuge for all the villains of Great
Britain, and have persistently urged the
Home Government to abolish the system of
transportation. For many months petitions
and remonstrances, private and official, have
been sent forward against sending any more
convicts to Western Australia. Men of all
shades of opinion, and of every class, have
taken a part in the agitation, and made a
common cause of it. in tact the feeling is
unanimous and profound, that the soil of
Australia, shall no longer be polluted by the
tilth ot England, and that a persistence in
the policy will inevitably tend to estrange
ment and final separation. An Australian
journal, in contemplating the probability of
separation says, “so long as we are a part of
England we share in all the consequence of
her policy, although we have no voice in its
direction. It is not permitted us to make
war or peace;, but we are involved necessa
rily in whatever measures England, at the
other end of the globe, may take in regard
to her neighbors. If the connection were
severed we would be free to take our mea
sures for our own defence, or make terms
with an enemy, if such we had. ”
Since the discovery of gold a better class
of population has emigrated to Australia
and with the thrift and enterprise of its peo
ple it is becoming wealthy and prosperous.
Melbourne, the principal city, which had
but a few thousand inhabitants ten years
ago, lias more than 150,000 population.—
With a country three millions of square
miles in extent, which embraces every vari
ety of climate, from torrid to temperate,
with arable soil, and enriched with the gold
en treasures of the earth, it is natural that
the Australians should seek to remove the
stigma which rests on their country as a
convict land, and notwithstanding the unfor
tunate past, strive for an honorable future.
The rebel Secretary of the Treasury has
found out that lie made a mistake in estimat
ing the debt of the confederacy, reckoning
it three hundred million of dollars less than
it really is; but the Richmond newspapers
say that “it’s of no sort of consequence,” in
iact, is another “blessing in disguise.” May
be, but we prefer to have our blessings out
ol the other lot, if you please.
Ax Italian iu London earns a livelihood by
slapping the back of his head with the sole
of liis foot, at a theatre. He contrives to
make both ends meet in a double sense.
SAVANNAH, GA., SUNDAY, MARCH 19, 1865.
MASONIC.
We clip from the Trowel the following:
In company with Bro. Curtis, of Illinois,
I sought admission into Solomon’s Lodge No.
1, and alter patiently waiting until after some
hunch ed or so officers of the army (and some
privates, too,) had passed through the hands
of the examining committee, I was ushered
into the most beautiful lodge room it has
ever been my privilege to enter. The chair
was filled by the master of the lodge, Richard
Turner, Esq., a venerable, intelligent and
worthy Mason. The room was crowded to a
degree of uncomfortableness by citizens and
soldiers, generals, colonels; majors, captains,
and privates, mingling together as if such a
thing as rank existed not in the service. The
work was beautifully executed, and every
thing seemed to conspire to render the even
ing one of pleasure and of profit. By my
side sat a rebel prisoner, who had got per
mission to visit the lodge without a guard.
Rebels and Union men mingled together in
that throng as if no war w r as going on, and I
doubt not that each one prayed that the
clangor of arms might soon cease. A little
incident occurred worthy of record; An
officer of the Federal army brought into the
lodge a “collar and apron,” both verv beauti
ful, for the purpose of having them restored
to the rightful owner. It seems that a party
of our soldiers were pillaging the house of a
rebel, carrying off, not eatables, (a soldier s
lawful prize,) but everything else that struck
their fancy, The lady at the sight of the de
vastation of her household, exclaimed, “/<?
there a Freemason here who will protect me ?"
The words ran like an electric shot through
the nerves of Captain , who incontinently
commenced an indiscriminate booting of
the mob from the premises. Pursuing his
way with the column, he was informed a
soldier carried off from the house alluded to
sqme articles pertaining to Masonry. The
soldier was forced to give up liis spoils, 1 and
the brother carried them safely to Savannah,
and the meeting last night, placed them in
hands that will convey them to the rightful
owner.
I saw in this lodge a bible, presented to it
by Gen. Oglethorpe, which is highly prized.
Death of ax Old Mason. —Col. Levi Dar
rol Judson died at Waterloo, Seneca County,
N. Y., on January Bth, and was interred with
masonic and military honors.
He was one of the oldest Masons in
the State of New York, having been
made under the jurisdiction of Dewitt
Clinton. During the warot 1812 he served
as Colonel of a regiment of volunteers.—
Since that period he was a resident ot Phila
delphia, but removed to Waterloo, where for
the three past years he has been afflicted
with paralysis to such a degree as not to be
able to leave his loom. His son is well
knorfn to the reading community as E. Z. C.
Judson, or “Ned Buntline”. -N. York Courier.
A Venerable Chair. —The oldest Masonic
Chair in Ireland was presented to Lodge No.
. S, by Bro. Thomas Aldworth Cocker, P. M.
No. 8, (I. C.,)and was occupied by Viscount
Doneralle (Hayes St. Leger,) at Doneralle
House, when the Hon. Mrs. Aldworth (then
the Hon. Miss St. Leger) received the first
and second degrees. The chair originally
belonged to the Hon. Viscount Kingston,
and was used at Michelstown Castle by him
as Grand Master of the Masonic body in Ire
land. The Viscount presented it to Lodge
No. 25, held at Doneralle, whence it was
given to Lodge No. 25, removed to Cork.—
Bro. W. A. Hacket, P. M., No. 3, proposed
a vote of thanks to Bro. T. A. Cocker,which
was seconded by Bro. W. P. Rothwell, S.
D., and entered in the minutes of the lodge
by Bro. E. W. Wigmore, Sec. This highly
interesting Masonic relic is finely carved in
the Corinthian style, and has been complete
ly renovated after a lapse of 150 years since
the date of its manufacture. It may be re
marked that, during the veiy troublous times
from 1798 to 1828, the chair and Masonifl
paraphernalia were locked up for periods of
four and ten years respectively, as Masonic
bodies were, by the provisions of the Limit
ed Acts, prevented from assembling.—Ma
sonic Mirror.
Freemasonry in toe Wilds of Austra
lia. —In Australia, at one place Stuart met
an old man and his two sons, handsome and
well armed. The native could not under
stand the questions put to him about the
country ; but after some time, having con
ferred with his sons, he turned round and
surprised me by giving me one of the ma
sonic signs. I looked at him steadily; lie
repeated it, which seemed to please them
much, the old man patting me on the shoul
der and stroking down my beard. They
then took their departure, making friendly
signs till they were out of sight.
Act of the British Parliament on Free
masonry.—“And whereas certain societies
have been long accustomed to be holden in
this kingdom, under the denomination of
Freemasons: Be it therefore enacted, that
nothing in this act shall extend to the meet
ings of any such society, or lodge, which
shall, before the passing of this Act, have
been usually holdeu under the said denomi
nation, and in conformity to the rules pre
vailing among the said societies of Freema
sons. Provided, always, that this exemption
shall not extend to any such society unless
two of the members composing the same
shall certify upon oath that such society or
lodge has, before the passing of this Act,
been usually held under the denomination of
a lodge of Freemasons, and in conformity to
the rules prevailing among the societies or
lodges of Freemasons in this kingdom.”—
Act of George 111, for the more effectual
suppression of societies, established for* se
ditious and treasonable purposes.
Much curiosity is felt as to the ultimate
point to which General Sherman is marching.
As that point has been communicated to us
in strictest confidence, we’ll whisper it in
fire reader’s ear, if he’ll solemnly promise
ana swear, just as a rebel does when he takes
the oath ot allegiance, not to let it go any
further. Well, then, it is— Washington. He
will be there on the 4th of March, 18C9.
What is the exact route he is to take, we
are not advised, —but we guess that he will
take the Richmond route, by taking Rich
mond. That is pretty much all that is left
for him to do, and he is the man to do it.
The rebel leaders have “struck oil” in
Richmond, but it is turmoil.
Jones and the Writer. —One day lately
when I was in a very bad humor, 1 was pas
sing the palace of Jones. There was a hand
some carriage waiting at the door, and pres
ently Jones himselt catnc down the steps,
sisted by a footman, and entered it. Jones’
hair was Rightly gray, but he had a plump,
ruddy face, and looked like a person who
enjoyed himself. Seeing that Jones was
going out for his pleasure at three o’clock in
the afternoon, I thought it probable that he
had nothing else to do on the lace of the
earth but enjoy himself. This man, thought
Ito myself, is a sort of Fortuuatus. When
ever he puts his bund in his pocket he finds
money there. He is not obliged to make an
effort to obtain it. He toils not, neither
does he spin ; yet he is magnificent, and has
all the pleasures of the world at his command.
Now, the aggravating reflection about this is,
that if Jones did toil and spin he wouid’nt be
half so well off as he is. What encourag -
ment is there for me to go home—to Hoxton
—and rack my brain, when all ir.y best ef
forts are not equal iu substantial result to
Jones’ doing nothidg ? I write a tragedy, he
has but to write a cheque. This uudistin-.
guished Jones is my bloated aristocrat.—
When 1 see him Idling in his carriage, chink
ing the sovereigns in all his pockets, I feel
ready for the barricades. I mutter between
my teeth, ‘Down with the bloated Joneses!’
I ask, again, where do all these common
people get their money ? How should it be
such an easy'thing for them, and such a diffi
cult thing for me ? How provokingly cool
they are over it! But if I, after a hard
struggle, obtain possession of a hundred
pounds or so, I am as nervous as possible un
til Lget it safely at rest. What if the band
should break! If I had five thousan
pounds instead of five hundred to my ac
count, I feel certain I should never trouble
myself about the stability of the bank. This
is what I envy—not wealth itself, but its po
tentiality.
Wbeu I saw Tones in his carriage roll off
from his door, I went my way iu a very ill
humor. I don't know that I wanted any
thing that day. Ail was right at Hoxton; no
duns nor disagreeables of any kind. I had
Sv-en my name in the papers; ‘rising young
man, rapidly reaching the .top round of the
ladder’ (one paper said I had reached it al
ready;) it was a very fine day; I was in very
good health ; I had several loose sovereigns
in my pocket; and, lor that day, and several
more it I choose, I had nothing to do but
enjoy myself. Still, I was whipped and out
of humor. When I had wondered about for
many hours among the grey scenes ot the
West end, seeking unalloyed pleasure and
finding it not, I turned to a famous supper
room, where designation is promoted by
minstrelsy. I had heard to sit iu this room
and eat chops and baked potatoes while a
tuneful choir, iuspired by the divine Nine,
sing glees and# madrigals, was to compass
the very round and top of human enjoy
ment. I had bethel that those chops and pa
fhtoes, accompanied by the lyre, were med
icine for the mind diseased ; that they were
potent to raze out the written trouble of the
braffi. and cleanse the stuff that weighs upon
lleh art. Rememberiug these things, I said
10 m,. self, if man should need an antidote to
poiconed thoughts, this should be the shod
' where he may procure it.
I entered, and encountered the good
apothecary. His looks were not meager;
his weeds were not tattered. On the contra
ry lie had a very jolly rubicund face, and
wore a most unexceptionable surtout. He
smiled, shook me by the hand, gave me snuff
from a chest (box is not the word), and
called me his dear boy. The pain in my
temper was vanishing at the very sight of
the good apothecary. Ere the medicinal
crop and potato were set before me that pain
departed. Yes, yes; lam willing to own it.
I am becoming reconciled to Hoxton, when
suddenly my eye falls upon an elderly gen
tleman at one of the tables. It is Jones. He
is sitting drinking claret out of a crystal gob
let, smoking a very choice cigar—l know by
the ash—and listening to the music with his
eyes shut. * I uoticed that his clothes were
fine and rich; his fingers are covered with
sparkling '.rings; his cambric shirt-front is
ablaze with three dazzling diamonds. He is
enjoying himself at every pore. I can see it
by the way he" puffs his cigar, by the gusto
with which lie sips his Lafitte, by the artful
and knowing way—practiced Sabarite!—in
which he keeps his eyes gently closed, that
his ears may not be distracted from their
draft of delight . Bloated Jones! hated mem
ber of a nameless but pampered class.
At the very sight of Jones, Hoxton starts
up before me in all its meanness and loath
someness. Look at him ! how he wallows in
pleasure. What a power of he
has ! I feel certain that if he were to give n;e
one of those choice cigars of his, I could not
extract half the enjoyment from it that he
does ; I could not fiud half the flavor in the
Lafitte. And see how thoroughly he enjoys
the music. Never opens his eyes for a mo
ment ; but listens, listens, while his face
beams with an expression ot the most ex
quisite pleasure. By-and-by, when he has
had his till of delight, he will roll home in
his luxurious carriage, while I—Ah, I see he
is about to go now. He has thrown away the
end of his cigar, and is putting on bis gloves.
A gentleman from the other end of the table
conies forward with his hat and stick. The
gentleman is evidently Jones’ servant, his
butler or his valet’ Fancy that! The gentle
man hands Jones his hat and gold headed
walking stick and takes him by the arm.
Bloated, pampered nobody ! The waiters
are making way for him as he passes along;
the gentlemen at the tables are rising to
draw their chairs out of his way.
‘ls he so very distinguished a person J’uen?’
I ask.
‘Ob, no,’ is the reply, ‘but the poor old
gentleman is blind.’
Blind ! Let me go to Hoxton and say my
prayers.— All the Year Round.
You may believe this story if you want
to “A child bom recently in San Francis
co had no opening for its eyes. Cuts were
made and a pair of bright eyes were found
underneath. What is most singular, eye
lashes have commenced growing on each
side of the cut, and the lids do regular ser
vice.”
Clerks at Richmond starve on salaries of
$7,000 a year,—and no wonder, for that sum
means $l4O in money.
A WONDERFUL DREAM.
THE SKELETON IN THE WELL.
Tt was during the year 1801, in the thriving
little town of Argentiere, near the foot of
the Cevennes Mountains, in France. The
day was charming. Many of the inhabitants
were traversing the highways, enjoying the
agreeableness of the weather. Among the
number there was a tall young man, appa
rently net more than twenty-five years of
age. In liis right band he carried a cane, and
in his left a small carpet-bag. His gait was
quiek, and. from liis expression he appeared
to be bent on some important errand. In his
nervous manner he walked,occasionally glan
cing around to view the surfbunding objects.
He had hardly gone more than a quarter of a
mile, when he came to a small street, which
was in the suburbs of the town. He turned
and proceeded up this. Presently, after
walking a short distance he arrived at an inn.
Here he hesitated; and after viewing the ex
terior, ne muttered to himself the following
words:
“itis very singular that this is the first inn
I have seen throughout my route. Howev
er 1 will put up here.”
So saying, he entered the building,, and
having registered his name, was shown to
a room. After ordering his dinner, he went
into liis apartment to rest himself. His order
was immediately responded to; and after
earing he prepared to retire, intending to
partake of a long and hearty sleep, so that
early next morning he might visit the various
merchants of the town. He accordingly
went to bed, and was soon wrapt in slumber.
While thus sleeping he had a dream that
made the strongest impression on him, We
will give it as from the lips of the dreamer:
“I thought that I had arrived at the same
town but in the middle of the eveuiug, which
was really the case ; that I had put up at the
same inn, and gone immediately, as an un
acquainted stranger would do, in order to see
whatever was worthy of observation in the
place. I walked down the main street into
another street, apparently leading into the
country. I had gone no great distance when
I came to a church, which I stopped to ex
amine- After satisfying my curiosity, I ad
vanced to a by-path which branched off from
the main street. Obeying an impulse which
I could neither account for nor control, 1
struck into this path, though it was winding,
rough and unfrequented, and presently readi
ed a miserable cottage, in trout of which was
a garden lull of weeds I bad no great diffi
culty iu getting into the garden, for the hedge
had several wide gaps in it. I approaches
rm old well that stood solitary ana gloomy
in a distant corner ; and looking down into
it, I beheld, without any possibility of mis
take, a corpse which had been sUfooed in
several places. I counted the deep wounds
and gashes. There wi re six.”
At this moment he awoke with his hair on
end, trembling in every limb, and cold drops
of perspiration -bedewing his forehead—
awoke to find himself comfortably iu bed—
"he dressed himselt, and, as it was-yet early,
sought an appetite for breakfast by a morn
ing walk. He went accordingly into tiie
street, and strolled along. The farther he
went, the stronger became the confused re
collection of the objects that presented them
selves to hits view r .
“Itis very strange,” said ho to himself, “I
have never been in this place before, and I
could swear that. I’ve seen this house, and
the next, and that other on the left.
On he went, till he came to the corner of
a street crossing the one down which he had
come. Before long lie arrived at the church
with the architectural features which had at
tracted his notice in the dream ; and then
the high-road along which he had pursued
his way, coming at length to the same by
path which had presented itself to his imagi
nation a few' hours before ! There was no
possibility of doubt or mistake. Every tree
and every turn was familiar to him. lie hur
ried forward, no longer doubting that the
next moment would bring him to the cottage;
and this was really the case. Indeed, all its
exterior appearances corresponded with w'hat
he had seen in his dream. Who then, could
wonder that he determined to ascertain
whether the coincidence would hold good in
every point ? He entered the garden, and
went directly to the spot where he had seen
the well; but here the resemblance failed ;
there was none. He looked in every direc
tion, examined the whole garden and then
went round to the cottage, which seemed to
be inhabited ; but nowhere could he find any
signs of a well. He then hastened Crack to
the inn in a state of excitement hard to des
cribe. He could not make up his mind to
allow such extraordinary coincidences to
pass unnoticed. But how was be to obtain
a clue to the awful mystery ? He went to
the landlord and asked him directly to whom
the cottage belouged that was on the by-road,
near to him.
“I wouder, sir,” said he, “wbat causes you
to take such particular notice ot that wretch
ed little hovel ? It i3 inhabited by an old
man and his wife who have the character ot
being very uusocial. They scarcely ever
leave the house, see nobody, and nobody
goes to see them. Os la.te, their very exis
tence appears to have been forgotten, and I
believe you are the first, who, for years, has
turned your steps to the lonely spot.”
These details, instead of satisfying his cu
riosity, only roused it the more. Breakfast
was served, but he could eat none; and he
felt that if he presented himself to the mer
chants in sucli a state of excitement they
might think him mad. He walked up and
down the room and looked out of the window,
endeavoring to interest himself in a quarrel
between two men in the street; but the gar
den and cottage pre-occupicd his mind ; and
at last snatching up his hat, he made his way
to the street. Hastening to the nearest mag
istrate, he related the whole circumstance
briefly and clearly.
“It is very strange," said the officer, “ and
after what has happened, 1 don’t think it
would be right to leave the matter without
further investigation. I will place two of the
police at your command; you can then go
once more to the hovel, and search every
part of it. You may, perhaps, make some
important discoveiy.”
• He allowed but a few minutes to elapse be
fore he was on his way, accompanied by the
two officers. After knocking at the door,
and waiting for some time, the old man
opened the door. Ho received them some-
PRICE. 5 CENTS.
what uncivilly, but showed no mark of sus
picion when they told him they wished to
search the house.
“Very well; as fa9t and as soon as you
please,” was the reply.
“ Have you a well here ?’’
“ No, Sir; we are obliged to get our water
from a spring-about a quarter of a mile dis
tant.”
“A well ?” said she, “Is it a well you are
looking for ? That has been gone these
thirty years. I remember it as if it were
yesterday; how I used to throw stones into
it, just to hear the splash in the water."
“Do you remember where that well used
to be ?” asked the gentleman.
“As near as I can recollect,".replied the
woman, “it is on the very spot where you
now stand.”
He suddenly started as it he had trodden
upon a serpent. They at once commenced
digging up the ground. At about twenty
inches deep, they came to a layer of bricks,
which being broken up concealed some rot
ten boards. They were easily removed,
when they beheld the dark mouth of the
well.
They searched the house, but discovered
nothing of any consequence. Meanwhile
the old man gazed upon them with an im
penetrable vacancy of look, as if he could
not understand why they were intruding on
his property. Finally, they forsook the cot
tage, without finding anyttdng to corrobo
rate their suspicious. They, however, re
solved to inspect the garden. By this time a
nuipber of persons had collected together
outside, having been drawn to the spot by
the sight of a stranger with two policemen.—
They were asked if they knew anything of a
well in those p*arls. They replied they did
not; the idea seemed to perplex them. At
length an old woman came forward, leaning
on a crutch.
“I was quite certain that was the spot,”
said the old woman. “What a fool you were
to stop it up, and then have to travel so far
for water!"
A sounding line, furnished with hooks,
was now let down into the well—the crowd
hard-pressing around him breathlessly bend
ing over the black and fetid hole, the secrets
of which seemed hidden in impenetrable ob
scurity. This was repeated several times
without any result. At length, penetrating
below the mud, the hooks caught in some
thing of considerable weight; and after
much time and effort they succeeded in rais
ing it from the obscure hole. It was an old
chest. The sides and lid were decayed, and
it needed no locksmith to open it. Within
it they found what they were sure they would
find, and which filled the spectators w.th
horror—the remains of a human bocjy.
The police officers now rushed into the
house and secured the old man. As to his
wife, /he at first could not be found. But
after a fat iguing search she Was discovered
beneath a pile ot wood, being much bruised
by the heavy logs above her. By this time
nearly the whole population of the town had
collected around the spot.
Tlie old couple were brought before the
proper authorities and separately examined.
The man persisted in his denial motft obstin
ately, but bis wife at once confessed that she
and her husband, a very long time ago, had
murdered a peddler, who possessed a large
sum of money. He had passed the nigh* at
their house, and they, taking advantage of
the heavy sleep that encompassed him, had
strangled him, after which they placed liis
body in a chest. The chest was then thrown
into the well and the well stopped up. The
two criminals had reason to believe them
selves free from detection, as there were no
witnesses of the crime, and its traces had
been carefully concealed. Nevertheless,
they had not been able to hush the voice of
conscience. They fled from their fellow
men. They were intimidated at the slightest
noise, and silence thrilled them with leaf.—
They had often thought of flying to some
distant land; but some inexplicable influence
kept them near the remains of their victim.
Terrified by the deposition of his wife, the
old man at length made a similar confession;
and six weeks after the guilty couple ex
pired on the scaffold.
Relations with France. —Diplomatic in
tercourse between this countnnand France is
well nigh at an end. Mr. Mercier left this
country long ago, and the gentleman appoint
ed to succeed him has never arrived in Amer
ica. Mr. Dayton, our Minister at Paris, is
dead and buried, and Mr. Bigelow is Charge
there. We are told that Napoleon 111. does
not mean to send a Minister to Washington
until our government shall recognize the new
government that he has set up in Mexico.
Suppose that they never should recognize
Maximilian at Washington, what then?
Would there never be a French Minister sent
to our capital ? At this moment it does not
seem very likely that our President is to
“see” the Mexican Emperor; for not only are
the Republicans of Mexico doing toler. bly
well, but our own successes are so great that
we do not care a fig for France and her Em
peror. Let him keep his envoys at home, if
that’s to his taste. We shan’t suffer for the
non-appearance of any one of their number
at Washington. The last one who was there
was our enemy, and he served his master
badly by reporting to him that the secession
ists were sure to succeed. Oqr statement re
specting relations between the two countrica
is, that no French Minister will be sent to
Washington until our government shall have
sent a successor to Mr. Dayton charged with
satisfactory explanations of threats made in
this country against Mexico.— Bost. Traveller.
A young man named Clarke, who deserted
from the Third New Hampshire,- confesses
that he jumped five bounties in a single day
in the city of New York, and that he has se
cured in all about SII,OOO in bounties. It that
fellow had turned his attention to politics and
municipal affairs in New York he would have
attained high distinction in the common
council “ring.”
A copperhead member of the Ohio Legis
lature offered a resolution, which was prompt
ly kicked out by a vote of 50 to 8, thanking
the Legislature of New Jersey for defeating
the constitutional amendment. * Don't be in a
hurry Buckeye—it is soon enc ugh to thank a
man for doing a mean thing, when he has
done it.
