University of South Carolina Libraries
* r * f 9' ^^|^^^ | Jfur i\t promotion of % political, Son at ^gricultaral mtb Commercial Infarcts of % j&ratjj. - ^ VOL. 13. TOEKVILLE, S. C., THURSDAY, JTJLY 25, 1867. NQ. 13^ i i ' - ?? ' " i ' i HOW I FjBSI MET MY WITH Inhere .was always a mystery hanging about s certain way that Morgan had, and in which he was always joined honestly by his wife?my own cousin, May Stephens that had been?a way that troubled my curiosity much, until the eventful evening that I was satisfied by hearing the reason why. It was amply this that every time a word was spoken that led to the period when Charley Morgan first met my cousin May, they would both laugh very heartily, but would always refuse to tell at whatever they laughed. This was certainly very provoking, and I had little hesitation in telling them so?not once, but many times?at which they always ended by kissing each other and looking very affectionate. I determined to have a solution of the matter, if for no other purpose than that it worried me. I am but a woman, and having pleaded to the pos session of cariosity, I set fortn one evemng, wnen we three, Morgan, May and myself, were drawn op before the fire and early settled for a talk.? There was no tame fbr mincing matters, was my first idea, and with this thought I dashed boldly out with? "Mr. Morgan,"?I usually call him Charley, but I was desirous of showing that I was really in earnest?"Mr. Morgan, why do you always laugh and look at May, when the subject of your meeting with her is spoken of?" This, I was sure, was a simple question, and yet instead of answering it in a simple way, they went back, both of them, on the old plan, and laughed as if the words I had just spoken were the best joke in the world. I could do nothing, of course, but look grave and solemn, which in a few moments brought them both looking in the same way, and then May spoke to me seriously and said: "Cousin Jane, you take our laughing much more earnestly than I thought yon would. It is only a memory between Charley and I, that brings up that laugh; to us it is a droll remembrance, but ' perhaps, in telling it, there would be nothing to amuse any one." The explanation brought back my good humor in an instant, and, with a smile, I said : "Now, May, this is really unkind of you; for so long have you excited my curiosity, that even if the story were not worth telling, you should tell it". tin i i.i L XT "weu, cousin jane snau nave me SWIJ, uxay , I will tell it to her." "No, Charley, that is really too bad! You shall not do it, sir. If consin Jane is to have the story, I will tell her myself." And then, after a pause, she said, "when we are "alone." * "You shall do no such thing, Madame May," was Charley's laughable response; "you shall do no such thing. This time I will have my own way and cousin Jane shall not have her curiosity excited any more without being satisfied." I saw there was no discussion on that point, but knew in some way Charley was to come off victor, so I merely said that I would be back in a few minutes, stepped out of the room and walked about the garden until I felt sure the point was settled, when I went back and found Charley and May as happy as buds, and laughing the old laugh as usual As I entered, Charley drew up the rocking chair, and after seeing me safely deposited in its depths, said: "Now, oousin Jane, I shall tell you the story, how I first met ray wife." "It is just five years ago this summer that I was granted exemption for a month at my desk, and went down with my old chum, Horace Hyatt, to his father's in old Monmouth, the garden of that unjustly abused State, New Jersey. I should never have forgotten that visit, even though I had not its influence on my whole future Hfe. I should remember it for the real, true hospitality, the solid old time comfort of the farm, and the quiet way in which, a few days after iny arrival, I was put into possession of it and made to feel that all belonged to me to do just what I pleased with it? There were plenty of fish, and we fished; plenty of woodcock, and we shot -call this shall be spoken with a proviso. I say we?by which, be it understood, I do not mean Horace's twin sisters, Carrie and Nettie?as having participated in these sports. They rode, to be sure, and charmingly they did it; they fished, and I am obliged to confess they were luckier than their guest But they did not shoot, though I shall not exult over their lack of this accomplishment They were charming enough without I am sure. I shall excite no jealousy by declaring that with one exception, which I shall not mention here, Carrie and Nettie Hyatt were the most charming girls I had ever seen, and I was just hesitating as to which of them I should fall desperately in love with, when my calculations were disturbed by an aocident?for so I suppose I must call itr-though really seeming like a special Providence. What this was, I shall tell in the best way I know how. "For some days after my arrival at the farm, my curiosity had been much excited by the occasional panegyrics lavished by the young ladies upon one schoolmate of their own, May Stephens by name, who was, according to their highly colored account, the most perfect thing in the shape of a woman then living. I tried to persuade myself that nothing in that line could surpass Carrie and Nettie, but still the reputation of this May Stephens haunted me, and came like a shadow across my new born passion. I formed at last an imaginary May Stephens, and do what I could, the figure was with me. At last I was worked into an agony of curiosity, and trembling with some great purpose which should bring before me the object of my thoughts, and of the two sisters' conversation.? In what this would have ended, it is impossible for me at this time to say, had I not learned one morning as I entered the breakfast room, the startling words from Nettie: "And she is coming at last! I'm so glad!' "Whether it was that the train of my thoughts was upon that point at the moment, I cannot say, but I knew directly the whole matter. I saw Carrie with an open letter in her hand, and coupling it with Nettie's words, I knew that the hitherto only heard of May Stephens was no doubt to become a reality. I had.no need to ask questions, all the information was proffered ; May Stephens ?the incomparable May?was to spend a month at Hyatt's, and they were to expect her at any moment, though as the letter read, she might not be down for a week to come. A week?it was an age, a century, and I was in a flutter of excitement My long standing passion, of nearly two week's duration, for Carrie was forgotten in an instant, and my whole mind was absorbed in making the best figure possible before this new queen.? With this idea I began to look into my wardrobe. I had come down with sufficient clothes to answer all ordinary purposes, including, of course, Carrie and Nettie; but the new goddess was certainly worthy of a new rig on my part, and certainly should have it. This resolution was made in fifteen minutes after hearing the announcement of her intended coming, and before two hours had gone I was whizzing on my way to town to carry out my resolve. My choicest morsel of wardrobe should be offered at the shrine of May Stephens. ((I had absented myself on the plea of a sudden memory of business neglected, and faithfully promised Nettie and Carrie that the next day should set me down at Hyatt's again, to stay out the month that May Stephens, the wonderful, was about to pass with them. * The racking of brain that day to create a grand ' ensemble of costume?something beyond all criti1 cism, that should, at the first glance, strike the bet holder with silent admiration?was indeed terrible. ! The labor of writing "Paradise Lost" was nothing to it It was early in the day when I arrived at my city rooms, and for six hours I dressed and re, dressed, compared and rejected and selected, and at the end of that time I "had laid out those portions of my wearing goods in which I had decided to make my first appearance before May Stephens. It wanted still several hours to sunset. Having gone throngh the great object of my visit, I thought it would not be a bad idea for me to take the last train, and return the same night to Hyatt's instead of remaining over until morning. No sooner said than done. I packed my habiliments and away I went Whizzing and puffing over an uninteresting road is provocative of sleep. So I found it when the shades of evening fell; to the best of my recollection, I was in the midst of a dream, in which May Stephens, attired in book muslin, and plain blue satin, appeared on a purple cloud, and admiringly inquired who my tailor was. Just as I was about to inform her, there came a crash, and for a moment I was not certain whether it was the clond that had exploded, or myself that had torn some portion of my apparel that was overstrained. It required but a moment to see that both presumptions were wrong. It was the out train?2:27? that had run off the track, smashing generally, and spilling the contents of several baggage cars all along the road, to say nothing of frightening half a hundred passengers into a condition bordering on lunacy. This was a pretty state of things, and to make it still worse, I was eight miles from my destination, though, as it afterwards appeared, not a mile from the next village, where I heard it canvassed, a tavern, supper and bed could be had. "I was disposed to make myself agreeable, and accordingly rendered all the assistance in my power to unprotected females, for which I got my reward on arriving at the haven of refuge, the promised tavern, by being informed that such a thing as abed for the night was an impossible idea, and that with some twenty more of the male gender, I must be content with chairs, while the beds were appropriated to the gentler sex. Slightly disgusted, I swallowed my supper and looked out upon the night It was a beautiful moonlight and verging on ten o'clock. By Jove, I would walk over to Hyatt's. No sooner said than done. Giving my carpet bag into the hands of the landlord, with the most emphatic charges of its safety, and punctual delivery at Hyatt'-s next morning, at my expense, I set forth. Eight miles is a trifle, and just as my watch marked the quarter after midnight, I went up the lane that led to the house. They were early to bed and early up. I walked round the house trying each entrance, but each and every one were fastened. It was of no consequence; my bed room window looked out upon the piazza; I would not disturb the house by knocking; a bit of climbing would do the business; and should it be fastened, I would tap and wake Horace, who was my roommate and bed fellow. The thing was executed as soon as thought of, and my hand on the window, which yielded, and I stood in my room. By the moonlight which streamed in, I saw that the bed was occupied", and by the heavy breathing I knew that Horace was in a heavy sleep. I would not awake him, but save the story of my mishap for the following day. With this resolution I slipped quietly into bed and in three minutes was oblivious.? What ought I to have dreamed that night? But I shall not anticipate. I lay facing the window as the sun peeped up above the distant hills, and scattered the gray mists of the morning. My bedfellow was breathing heavily, but it was broad daylight, and there was no more sleep in me, so I was determined Horace should wake up and hear the story of the railroad break-down. I turned quickly and gave the sleeper a sudden shake. As rapidly as my own motion, my bed-fellow, who had lain with his back towards me, sprank to a sitting position. There are surprises without terror, which deprive us of our speech, until the brain has time to act and reason. Such surprises do not generate screams and faints. They are expressed by open-mouthed and silent wonder. This was the case of myself and bed-fellow, as we sat upright and stared.? Right by my side, with her face within two feet of my own, sat a young woman, not more than seventeen, with great, dark, hazel eyes, and such great masses of brown curls, tucked away under the neatest little nightcap that ever was. She had gathered the bed clothes, with a spasmodic jerk, up about the throat, and the most rigid astonishment, looking as though doubting whether she was sleeping or walking,"gazing steadily in my eyes. Memory serves a man but little in such cases, but if my memory serves me right, it was I who spoke first I blurted out with : "How came you here ? "The figure started, still in speechless astonish meat, but in a moment, as though awa&ened trom its stupefaction, spoke: "Are you Charles Morgan ? "I answered in the affirmative. "Well, then, Mr. Morgan," said the figure, by this time calm, with quite as much dignity as though in the drawing room, "lam May Stephens, and was put in this room after an unexpected arrival Horace had gone over to a neighbor's, a few miles off, before I got here, and was not to return till to-day. This is how I was put in this room." "So here I was, sitting vis a vis with this May Stephens, mystical lady, for the first meeting with whom I intended to get up such a superlative toilet. A nice style of introduction, and a nice style of toilet! And she?she by this time as cool as the 31st of December, and sat looking me right in the eyes, as I made some rambling explanation of my being in that extraordinary position. It was a lame explanation, wonderfully mixed up with irrelevent matter, and stammered and stuttered through in a way that should have disgusted any sensible person. She seemed to be seriously pondering the recital, and at its end, looking at me as though asking the most simple question in the world, said: "WTiat's to be done ? "Let me jump out of the window as I came in, said I, in a sickly tone of voice, for the thought came to me that to achieve this end, I must make some desperate display of myself in a style of costume which I deprecated. She relieved me instantly. 'No, that will not do; there are people moving about, and you will be seen.' "It was now my turn to stammer out: "What's to be done ? For I saw the little ha zel-eyed girl was superior to me in presence of mind and energy of action. She did not wait long to answer my question. "You must lie still here until I get up. When I have left the room, you can rise, dress and go away at the first opportunity, was her response, delivered in a quiet and business-like manner. "And so I did. Under May Stephen's command, I buried my head under the bed clothes and kept well covered until I heard the retreating footsteps on the stairs, which was but a few minutes, though it seemed an age; then, with a desperate bound, I sprang from the bed, and turned the key on the departed one. It was the quickest dressing I ever made, and I will venture to say that no man ever sneaked out of his own apartment more stealthily than I did. "That morning we met?May Stephens and I? at the breakfast table ; I in the character of the newly arrived that morning, and were formally introduced, during the ceremony of which we astonished every one present, and planted a thorn of wonder in the sides of Nettie and Carrie, by bursting simultaneously into a hearty laugh, which we never fail to repeat when the memoiy of our first meeting comes up. And now, cousin Janev you have the whole story of how I first met my wife." STRENGTH OF SOUTHERN ARMIES. The following interesting statistics in reference to the strength of the Southern forces during the late war, is taken from the New York Commercial Advertiser, made up from a statement of the New York Tribune's Richmond correspondent, the latter having, he says, procured his facts from official Confederate sources. It will be noticed that the Confederate armies reached the numbers of about 500,000 men in 1863, a force which was probably greater, in proportion to the numbers of the white population within the Confederate lines, than was ever put forth in any struggle: Among other documents unearthed at Richmond were the muster rolls of the Confederate armies, which have fallen into the hands of a Tribune correspondent! From these it appears that 67,000 Southern troops participated in the battle of Fair Oaks, fought on the 31st of May, 1862. Johnston having been wounded, Gen. Lee succeeded him. The foDowing figures indicate the number of troops in his command until the final surrender. Present and Date. " 1862. For Duty. Absent June 100,000 July. 69,559 1 37,030 August 95,000 September. 53,609 139,143 October .67,805 153,778 November " 73,554 153,790 December 79,072 152,853 1863. January...... 72,226 144,605 February 58,559 114,175 March 60,298 109,839 May 68,352 133,689 June 100,000 July 41,135 117,602 August 56,327 4 38,264 September. 44,367 95,164 October..^..... 45,614 97,211 November. 48,267 95,576 T\ 1 AO KRQ fll OK9 jl/ewulucr mxo)xJUO ?;i ]luu 1864. January .. 35,849 79,602 February r 33,811 68,485 March ; 39,407 79,202 April 52,626 97,576 June 51,863 92,685 July 57,097 135,805 August 44,247 146,838 October 62,875 177,103 November 69,29Q 181,826 December. 66,533 155,772 1865. January 53,445 141,627 February 59,094 160,411 According to this statement, General Lee entered Pennsylvania with one hundred thousand troops, but on returning to Virginia after the battle of Gettysburg, he was able to muster but forty-one thousand?a total loss of fifty-nine thousand.? Gettysburg was, indeed, the turning point in the struggle, and that and other disasters encountered during the summer months of 1863, should have con meed the Southern leaders of the utter folly of fu..her resistance. The following tables give in round numbers the total number of troops in the Confederate service, at different times, during the war: July 20,1862. Present & For Duty. Present Absent Dept of North'n Va.... 70,000 95,000 139,000 Dept of S. C. and Ga. 19,000 25,000 31,000 Dept S. Va. and N. C.. 17,000 21,000 27,000 T'l Army of the East 106,000 141,000 197,000 Dept of Tenn 40,000 53,000 81,000 Dept of East Tenn 15,000 18,000 28,000 Dept of Miss 40,000 68,000 98,000 Dept of the Gulf. 7,000 9,000 18,000 T'lArmy of the West 113,000 143,000 215,000 T'l A. of E. and W...217,000 289,000 412,000 JULY, 1863. Dept of North'n Va..!.. 41,000 55,000 117,000 1 Dept. of S. C. and Ga. 21,000 25,000 34,000 Dept ofS. Va. &N.C. 9,000 10,000 12,000 Dept of Richmond 14,000 16,000 21,000 T'l Army of the East *85,000 105,000 184,000 Dept of Tenn 40,000 53,000 81,000 : Dept of East Tenn 15,000 18,000 26,000 Dept. of Mississippi 28,000 36,000 54,000 Dept of Trans-Miss.... 20,000 30,000 43,000 Dept of the Gulf. 5,000 6,000 8,000 1 T'l Army of the "West 113,000 143,000 215,000 ' T'l Armies of E. and W. 198,000 248,000 399,000 , NOVEMBER 1864. Dept of North'n Va.... 60,000 88,000 182,000 Dept of S. C. & Ga.... 12,000 15,000 21,000 Dept ofVa. & N. C.... 3,000 4,000 5,000 ; Dept of Richmond 6,000 7,000 17,000 Total 90,000 114,000 224,000 i Dept of Tenn 30,000 46,000 96,000 Dept of East Tenn 3,000 4,000 7,000 Dept of Mississippi 15,000 21,000 38,000 Dept of Trans-Miss. (?). 38,000 52,000 77,000 1 i Total 86,000 124,000 218,000 1 Total 176,000 218,000 443,000 j The correspondent, who has secured and com- ; piled these tables, remarks: The Confederate Army undoubtedly reached its highest point, both in numbers and efficiency, in < the early summer of 1863, when the movement I into Pennsylvania was commenced. At the close ] of March, before all preparations had been made, i the returns show a nominal force of 484,000, of which 341,000 were present for duty. Probably i about 20,000 were added during the next six weeks ] to the Army of the East; so that we may safely ' say that at the middle ot June, there were a little I more than 500,000 on the muster rolls, of whom I 300,000 were present for duty. i In the first week of July they suffered losses a- i mounting to fully 100,000 men. At the end of the month, Lee had only 41,000 for duty out of the 100,000 with which he had set out six weeks \ before; and in a month, by every exertion, he ] could get together only 15,000 more, and out of i this 56,000, all told, he was forced to send 15,000 ] of his best troops to the West j When in the Spring of 1864, Grant opened his campaign, Lee had only a little more than 50,000, and in August, when the siege of Richmond was fairly opened, he had, counting those present with him, though still nominally belonging to the Pepartment of North Carolina, less than 60,000.? From this time the returns show how prevalent became desertions from the Confederate armies at the East and West. In August, out of a nominal force of 550,000, there was not 200,000 present for duty in all the armies. At the close of February, the date of the latest report in our possession, Lee, out of a nominal force of 160,000, had present but 73,000, and for duty but 59,000. More than half were absent wholly, and little more than a third were present for duty. We judge that in all, 600,000 different men were in the Confederate ranks during the war. Of these we do not believe one-half are alive this day. Once in the ranks, there was no escape exoept by death, disablement from wounds or sickness, or desertion. Of the 300,000 of the Confederate soldiers yet alive, no man can say what proportion are wholly or in great part disabled by wounds or disease. LIFE IN P IRIS. It is one o'clook in. the morning. Every cafe, theatre and ball has been closed up half an hour. There is a midnight excise law: here no less peremptory than New York's. The gas is lighted in the streets, but not in the dwellings. The great hotels even must illuminate in Paris with candles, as the city makes barely enough gas for public uses. The practical civilization of Paris is only a grease-spot compared to the full blaze of our Western cities. There are no hydrants here to speak of. Water must be carried into your house from the public fountains, or served to you by a barrel wa,?on at so much subscription per week. In this silence of the night, sit you down on the broad stono quary beside the Seine, where the Tuilleries looms darkly up in the night, and In the swift river there ore darting fires, where all the miles of street and boat lamps fling their reflections. Up yonder in the central pavilion there is one window aflame?the Emperor's. Whether for a states man's vigil or a sensualist's carousal, he is awake; and at his portal below you see now and then the flash of the light upon the bayonet of the Turco that guards him. Through the dark gardens are other guards, revealed by their steel flashes. Now, all alone, noiseless, like a great creeping glow-worm, you see the most wretched man in Paris steal up to the palace of the most powerful; the chiffonier is under the windows of the King. The chiffonier is the Paris rag-picker. He has a great funnel-shaped basket tied to his back; a lamp drops to his feet; by its ghastly light he discovers whatever in gutter or ash-heap is worth his notice, and this he tosses with a dexterous movement of his iron hook into the basket The motion is so rapid, and the hook so long and thin, that you can with difficulty see the transfer. The lamp' glares at the chiffonier's feet alone; the rest of his body is only a hunch-backed shadow, and in the light he seems to be some monster eating the offal of the highway. There are seven hundred chiffoniers in Paris.? They live, in main part, on the Rue Monffetard, and if you go thither of a morning, you will see their wives washing out the rags they get, and assoiting the old bones. Here they have a ball called the Old Oak, and every Sunday night there are several hundred of them here dancing the cancan. The most remarkable chiffonier in Paris is Gaston, the Hibon, or Owly Gaston. He is sixty-five years old!, and bald as a sole-leather trunk. Forty years ago he was a beau and dancer, owned a ball in the Fanbourg St Germain, and claims to have invented the cancan, which is the most shameless and popular ball-room danoe e?t*it A love of gaming and worthlessness ruined Gaston at thirty-five; he married one of the girls he had hired to dance, and while one of them went to the hospital to wrestle with death, the woman took her crook and basket and perambulated in the night She found a diamond of great value at the cleaning out of the Pont Neuf canal, and this so excited the cupidity of Gaston, that when he was convalescent he turned to mud larking himself, and coaxed into the same business several of the broken down belles he had known. They found no more diamonds, but Gaston was shrewd enough to become the common patron of all his converts, and is alleged to be well off. He is quite i\ character in this district, and he has probably been into every sluice, sewer and passage under the city of Paris. It is related that w? nooTYionrt irltA Vina nmiwifp/l ft orflTl^Pr I A/(VIVU JLlltUOOUIWIItl} |) I1V UMO |/ivjwwu w Q. M..WW. system of sewerage for the metropolis, sent for Giiston some time ago to confirm a plan of the subterranean ditches, he had ordered to be prepared. The veteran rag-picker took the map and explored the whole under world of the city, being absent six months, and traveling and retracing nearly a thousand miles of filth. Haussmann, gave him a year's pay of a policeman, and a pioneer's decoration. TWO O'CLOCK?TOE NIGHT TROOPS. When the dull lamp of the chiffonier has got round the corner, you hear the tramp of hoofs in concert, and directly a company of mounted policemen come sweeping up the street, with guides out in advance, as if for a skirmish with some enemy. These policemen wear brass helmets, like a Roman General's, with red horse tails streaming out , behind; carbines are slung around thein; they car- , ry naked sabres. Riding along in the night, they make the city seem a conquered one, full of conspiring citizens. On the opposite side of the river, as if riding down conceitedly to sweep an enemy from the quays, a squadron of regular calvary is seen bearing along, their burnished accoutrements glittering; and a bugle call streams over the Seine, answered back by the gens cCnrme. So, in the darkness, supporting columns move over the whole capital; the forty great barracks of the city and its dependencies are never quite darkened, but in their guard-rooms telegraphers and sentries keep perpetual vigil; four thousand policemen walk all night in cocked hats and side-swords; wherever a taper burns past its season, there is a cold eye in the street fixed upon it Sixty thousand men of all arms are distributed over Paris, and horses stand day and night to pursue revolution or crime. Within every place of frequent resort the mouchard, or spy, abides?no introduced agent in general, but your friend, bed-fellow or school-mate?he to whom you are free to unbosom every indigna- , tion and purpose of your life, purchased by natu- J ral deceit or a treacherous political regimen to de- , liver you up for your thoughts as remorselessly as J pour deeds. Said M. Vivien, of old, the Perfect of . Police: "There is no lack of candidates for spies. They , jome from every class. Every day a hundred of- , Per themselves. Our mail is filled with volunteer , letters betraying some friend or relative. Con- ] science is low-priced among my country-men." The "Felon's Biography" consists of 400 regis- J tcrs and of forty book-cases filled with their supplementary leaves, making a grand catalogue of , French criminals and suspected people, containing j 300,QOO names. This remarkable book is kept in ] the Rue de Harlay, on the island of the city. A spy and a policeman get the same average pay? j ibout $260 in gold a year, or 75 cents per day. , FOUR O'CLOCK?THE ABATTOIRS. ( While these are the night scenes in the heart of j the city, away out on the hills of the suburbs, the ( butchers of cattle and sheep are gettimg ready for j market. There are but eight Dutcher shops in Paris, and three of these are a long distance from the city proper. The five principal ones stand on the outer boundaries of Paris; they are owned by the city, and rented to the several butchers, who ire compelled to drive their cattle to them in the i light, to permit none of their employees to be 1 seen upon the public streets in the garments of the 1 slaughter house, and to transport all the meat to f market between midnight and sunrise. The cattle ( markets proper are at Poissy and Sceaux, a days > valk from Paris each; the drover is not compel- t ed, therefore, to pay the octroi, or municipal tax; 1 :his is paid by the butcher when he passes the i ;ity gates, or at the abottoir when he kills. In the t jreat butchery of Montmartre, the largest in the ? ivorld, there are nine streets, sixty-four boiling \ louses and butcheries, eight pens capable of in- i ilosing four hundred cows at once, with abundant i shade and fodder; two artesian wells supply 200,- i )00 quarts of water a day; there are triperies, ma- ( ;hineries for curing calves' head, and sheep's feet i ind tongues, almost as perfect as your hog-killing t methods in Cincinnati, and so superb is the drainage that outside of the abottoir not a drop of blood is ever seen upon the sidewalk or in the gutters, nor is the hot summer made a stench by the breezes from the shambles. These butcheries were pro jected by the first Napoleon, and finished in 1818. The horse-butchers is a new institution here, and it has, until of late, been established in the abattoir of La Villette, just outside of Paris. About forty horses are killed a day, knocked in the head, their throats cut, and they are- made into quarters, shins and ribs in no time. The performance is legal, and government encourages the consumption of the horse. BOOTH REDIVIVUS. Two communications have already been, published concerning the reported existence of J. Wilkes Booth, and giving the particulars of a bet made by Commander Tolbert that the man was yet alive. The> report was generally discredited, but Mr. Francis W. Oddell, ex-Vice-Consul for H. B. M., at Shanghai, has written a circumstantial account of the affair which seems to set the matter of Mr. .Booth's existence beyond a doubt. Mr. OddelT s letter, which is dated Calcutta, March 29, 1867, is, in part, as follows: CoL Aaron B. Crenshaw, Matamcrrca, Mexico: Dear Sir : Your communication, dated New York, January 15th, has been .^received, and contents noted; and in response to yout request, viz: "That I should make some inquiries here concerning the final disposition made of the money staked on the wager laid by Captaii! Wm. M. Tolbert in June last, that J. Wilkes Booth was yet living." I take pleasure in forwarding you the result of my investigations. It so happened that the parties interested in the strange affair, are all personally known to me; they are respectively W. Martin Tolbert, Captain of the ship Bird of the 0$ean, and winner of the stakes; Dr. James F. Brown, formerly of Boston, Mass., the contestant and loser of the same, Samuel L. Crawford, resident holder of the stakes, and William Miller, resident of the city, and Theodore Campbell, of London, witnesses chosen by Brown to accompany Tolbert, on a voyage by sea to some point or port unknown. I was not present when the bet was made and the articles drawn up; and but was fully posted concerning the condition of the same, by Mr. Brown, on the following morning. They were substantially as follows: Tolbert and Brown each staked five hundred pounds sterling in the hands of Crawford, to be held by him till the expiration of six months, and subject, at such time, to the order of which ever party should be declared fairly entitled to it by Judge Knowles. Miller and Campbell were chosen by Brown to go on a cruise with Tolbert, in his vessel, their sworn affidavits to be duly presented to Knowles upon their return; the loser to pay their expenses while, on the voyage, and $20 each per month, additional The bet was made and the money staked on the 28th of June, 1866, and two days hence the Bird of the Ocean sailed ostensibly for Hong Kong, Tolbert being in command, and the two gentlemen above referred to passengers. The last seen or heard of the Bird of the Ocean was on the 17th of July, when she was spoken by the ship Winged Racer, Captain Hayes, off the coast of Java, bear ? W t i i j _ _ ing soutn. w eeics ana raonius empseu, no uuwgs reached here of her having made a port, when friends finally &rew uneasy, and many suspected she had gone to the bottom. Bets were made; ten, and even as high as twenty to one that she never would return to this city; and Dr. Brown felt certain of winning the stakes, when to the amazeraent of all parties concerned, the announcement was made that the ship Bud of the Ocean had arrived from San Francisco in ballast This was the evening of December 25th. The notorious pirate, Tolbert, soon made liis appearance, accompanied by filler and Campbell, and wonderful to reflect, those two gentlemen swore "that Wilkes Booth was really alive; that they had seen him," &c. Judge Knowles rendered his decision in favor of Captain Tolbert, and the latter, tipon going to the hotel of Mr. Crawford, was made the recipient of ?1000 sterling. Dr. Brown expressed perfect satisfaction with the result; said "he now fully believed that the United States Treasury had been basely swindled out of $100,000 by Col. Baker and his accomplices in palming off a spurious body upon the government for that of Wilkes Booth, and claiming the reward offered for Booth's capture." The doctor cheerfully complied with the full conditions of the agreement, and paid the two young men their respective salaries, viz: ?120 each, and their expenses during the voyage, which amounted to about ?200 additional. Dr. Brown is a gen-, tleman of good standing, and has amassed considerable wealth in the East Indies. He says that he is satisfied that Booth is alive, as he has known both Miller and Campbell for years, and has ever found them high toned, truthful men. He tried to induce Mr. Miller, who had been his bosom friend, to divulge the great secret, viz : where he had been, also Booth's place of concealment; but IVfilW nnsitivelv refused to do so. stating that "he had taken a solemn oath never to betray Booth, and could not be tempted to violate it if the wealth of the Indies were laid at his feet." This singular affair has created quite a sensation in our city, and is being discussed in certain fashionable circles with considerable enthusiasm. It is the general opinion, entertained by all parties at all famliar with the circumstances, that Booth is certainly "alive, and the United States authorities at Washington were victimized by a set of cunning scoundrels. If such was the case God grant their villany may be exposed. Capt W. Martin.Tolbert. after receiving the amount at issue, remained in the city but three days, then cleared again for Hong Kong in ballast The vessel which he commands, is certainly the most ( handsome ship I have ever seen in these waters. She is a full rigged clipper, and judging from her model, should be capable of outstripping any ordinary sailing vessel in swiftness. She has been mtpected by the authorities here as a privateer, , hut nothing was done to prevent her departure, ] her papers being apparently all right. i You are at liberty to have my letter published, ] T it is your wish to do* so, though it has not been < ivritten with that care necessary to meet the eye )f a criticising public. The statements herein confined I shall take pleasure in substantiating, when;ver called upon to so do. ' I have the honor to remain, sir, Francis W. Odell, ! Ex-vice Consul for H. B. M., at Shanghai ? i The Future Capital op the United States, i ?St Louis, with a present population of 200,000, < md the prospect of reaching five times that num- < >er by the close of the present century, aspires to < ? the capital of the United States. But she may i ind herself distanced in the race by some unknown i at present J little place, nunareas or mues runner i vest?for example, Junction City, Omaha City, or i some other almost unheard of village on the great < ilVestern plains. It takes away one's breath to f ead how the States are pushing out their popular < ion westward, and how all kinds of improvements 1 ire working their way across the great plains to- t vards our Pacific Empire. Think of a railroad be- 1 ng laid on that route at the rate of almost two < niles a day for thirty days in succession, or fifty t niles of road in thirty days. There is a story told ' >f a race between these Pacific Railroad track lay- i irs and an emigrating party in teams, in which the < rack layers beat at the end of some dqys' trial t A STRANGE LOVE AFFAIR. of The Milwaukee Wisconsin states that while the pi Japanese were performing in Chicago they attract- sc ed the attention of many of the first ladies of that w city, who made them presents, and presented thdln in -with their photographs. It was the fan<y of an fa hour whioh gratified both parties, and was forgot- bi ten by" both. There was one lady, however, a bi daughter of a merchant of a neighboring city, a w beautiful girl of eighteen summers, who seems to tl have become completely lost to the infatuation, nj and to have captivated entirely the heart of one se of the Japanese, who has the musically-sounding U] name of Sing-kee-Chee. This worthy, as we have T learned from the members nf the company}, has bi something of a romance in his history. His fath- d< er was a nooleina'n belonging to the court of the ^ Tycoon. He loved and married a girl in the lower tl class, very pretty, very good, but not high blooded, rc The Tycoon heard of it and his indignation was ft great The nobleman begged and prayed. It was 0i no use. He had insulted the dignity of the Tycoon. There was but one way to make reparation ?to commit hari-kari?in plainJSnglish t(^disembowel himself. The Tycoon's word was law, and & the nobleman died, his property going, to the Ty- ec TT* !/?- J! 3. J 7/ coon, nifi wue, uisowueu, jomeu a uuuipaujr <ji acrobats. Years after, this same company was performing before the Tycoon. In the bamboo 68 act, which is his favorite, the Tycoon was much * struck with the daring of a boy who did wonderful things on the slender reed. Upon inquiry he learned that the boy was none other than the son ^ of his once favorite minister and friend, and had high blood in his veins. He took the boy from m the company and trained and educated him, for ai the friendship he had once borne his father.? d< This boy grew up about the court, and was none other than Sing-Kee-Chee, which in Japanese in means the son of a nobleman who had offended the Tycoon. Sing-JKee-Chee grew up about the court until he ^ attained the age of twenty-seven. He has an ex- bi cellent education, and speaks several languages 08 fluently. English he also speaks well With Sing-Kee-Chee it was that the Chicago lady be- ? came infatuated. He came out with the company & at the order of the Tyooon, to watch them and to also to give his highness a history of the country, ri its people and its customs. He is no common jug- w gler, although he delights in the bamboo act, aI which brought him before the favorable notice of to the Tycoon. The young lady made his acquaint- P ance in Chicago, talked with him and invited him u to her house, where he made himself quite a fa- ^ vorite. His history was known, and the lady, by ? one of those romantic fancies which will, in the eye of the world, sometimes make fools of the most tx sensible, learned to love him. Not for his good tli looks certainly ; for intelligent as he is, and with 3d the high blood coursing through his veins, Sing- & Kee-Chee is not the most fascinating of the party, wi Perhaps the lady loved him for the sacrifices of je his father. Perhaps not We will not attempt m to imagine the excuse for the notion, to call it by h< no other name. Sing-Kee-Chee was delighted st with the lady, but he had no further thought, for ac he left her with no other exchange than that of a w, photograph, he carrying hers with those of other at ladies which had been given him. At Detroit g< Sing-Kee-Chee was surprised to meet the lady, ? who found the world a blank desert after her heart tl had become another's, and in Detroit Sing-Kee- tx Chee first began to discover the secret, and to feel, B too, that although his heart was pledged to aooth- si er in Japan, there was an attraction for it here.? si He did not discover this until he was the subject v< of a joke by the members of the company whom b< he one day surprised by the information that hi fibred the young American better than he loved the g( maiden of his. own land. This was a phase in the T! affair that the company had not dreamed of, and m it was a startling one. They told the lover to be- w! ware?that he must take a lesson from the fate of his father, who had loved without the consent of tb the Tycoon, and if he persisted his father's fate fii would be his. Sing-Kee-Chee did remember this, q\ and endeavored to banish her from his heart, but th it was a useless task. The more he tried the deep- fo er he loved, and before the company left Detroit, he made the romantic maiden's heart happy by de- \& daring that he loved her, and if the Tycoon's con- yc sent could be gained by the strongest entreaties, in he should make her his wife, and with this assu- hj ranee the maiden returned to her parents in Chi- of cago, who are striving by every means. in their power to eradicate the notion from her mind. Sing-Kee-Chee is obstinate and determined. He br has written to the Tycoon the full acoount of the se matter?has told his love in the barronic but ex- if pressive language of his people, and has sent forward with this the testimony of all the Japanese, P< that the girl is of good family, and respectable and di worthy, that she loves to distraction, and will be ci< no disgrace to the best blood of Japan. We are er told by the interpreter that the present Tycoon is bj a young man who has a high estimation of the A- sh mericau people, and it is believed that if the pa- th rents of the Chicago lady will give their consent to gT the union, which for very good reasons they at sp present withhold, the Tycoon will gladly yield his th consent as a step towards winning the favor of the pc people of this great country. Of that we shall ei know more hereafter. At present two anxious th hearts are awaiting the decision of the Tycoon.? is Sing-Kee-Chee knows very well that if the con- to sent is not given his fate is sealed, for with the re- Sc fusal would come a notice that by the asking of PC cnnVi a founr Vind nffWndpd hevnnd redemntinn. tal wuvu w*WfW* ~w ~? ? jr~-i and only the committal of hari-kari would wipe "0 out the insult We certainly trust that no such sad fate awaits the lover, for the lady has decided Sc that if he dies for her, she goes to the grave with ? him. After the arrival of the company in this city, every mail brought to Sing-Kee-Chee a letter from his betrothed, and on Saturday she came to meet him previous to his departure from this city.? Her strange love instead of decreasing seems to ne flourish as time rolls on and opportunity is given ^ to think it over, and when the party left this city ?.? last evening to go to Fort Wayne, passing through 818 Chicago, there seemed no happier or more devoted 1101 lovers in this world than Sing-Kee-Chee and his 00 Chicago betrothed. ? tin CROUP* on We copy an article on this disease which we we commend to the special consideration of mothers, act [t is from HaWs Journal of Health, and may be gi\ read with advantage: , th< "Croup seldom comes on suddenly. Generally th< it has at first no symptoms than those of a com- go, nion cold, but the very moment the child is seen to Th jarry his hand towards his throat, indicating discomfort there, it should be considered an attack of < croup, and should be treated accordingly. When pe: i child is sick of anything, no physician can teD ne* inhere that sickness will end. So it is with a cold; bei t may appear to be a very alight one indeed, still bh it may end fatally in croup, putrid sore throat or for liptheria. The moment a mother observes croupy urn symptoms in a child from two to eight years, the ria especially croupy age, she should keep the child in poi ler own room, by her own side, day and night, not sui dlowing it for a moment to go outside of the doors, .St* seeping it comfortably warm, so that no chilliness ter )r draft of air shall come over it Light food bet ihould be eaten, no meats, hot bread or berries.? ov< rhe whole body, the feet especially, shook! be kept pa varm all the time. Jtubbing twenty drops of sweet Hoi )il into the skin over the left breast patiently with sio he hand, two or three times, or more times a day, tre * ten gives the most marked relief in- a cold,' tkurf reventing croup. Such a course promptly' pur'-' led, will promptly cure almost' any cola a child ill take, -and seldom fails to ward off effekuafly^; i a day.or two what would otherwise have been.a tal attack of croup, with its; ringng, Turnings * irking sound, its uneasy, oppressive and labored eathing, none of which can eyer be wirfakstt ben once heard. -'Many a sweet child is lost iu?. The parents are aroused at the dead' ght with a oo ugh that suggested croup ; bt9?cff ems to pass off an^Jn the morning odindS^ he child runs about all day as if perfectly well; it the next night the. symptoms am : mom' deSfe id, and on the next wight the child-dies, >bot this ould have been averted with oertainfecff from le first night the child had beeukept m ajw^m om, warmly clad ; if the bowels have heed kept ee and nothing had been eaten but toast with tea r gruel, or stewed fruits. u . : ?' mi tr; INTIMACY AT SIGHT. : - ? What close obferfer of the ways of* society baa Bed to notice how soon sh mtrodootioo is followI bythe invitation, ' 'I would be pleased to have >u call and see me,,air." . . r ; ?c ' -i A comely face and pleasant address are the only isentials necessary for a stranger to insinuate bimilf into the society of the most selectef oar dsnghTs. - If he is seemingly occupationless, the petTare his chances. From idleness on the part of le male,- the inffcfencB of wealth isgeoerally dfttfm j the opposite sex. Med, as a genenf! rule,*re ore careful in the selection of their fHends uiktt e women. We havefirequeotiy seena geritfrrrian iliberately cot a handsome, roue upon the street, ho, ten minutes after, would be raising hi*, hat > acknowledgment of a graceful nod frocasSid mtleman's sister. , : ^ v' ' < Under hojne influences woman isrfrntrdtitaftd jpt apart nomnmoh of the world's wickedness; it ag the warmest dad are always the mqst sns;ptible to taking cold, so are thosemost looked tor the most liable to. neglect looking after themlves. With ail woman's worldly wisdom, she is ildom woridly wise. The purest in rmni&seem > succumb the soonest to the-magnetism ofimptity. They are carefal only to 'be eareless^ aod iseonlyto be entrapped. MotheiB know' thii, id the more beautifhl and bashfhl their danghil*A WMAMA tVlATT ?ui? fllAM * A WMHA 0^4 IOj tuo rnv/ic IUOJT itoi ivi vuuu? XX luuij/ Ui m rl, the boy-girl of oar school days, seldom cause* aeasiness at Home. She protects herself by bw randon, and learns modesty in fearleesnee. So uch far the shell, now fbr the kernel' In large cities like our own, yoong ladies caonot 1 too carefhl to inquire the antecedents afa gen2man before admitting him to thiejrhomes^fieetinga stranger at a fasbionabie partyia?r om-proving him a. gentleman. He may be, a sif, first seen by your friend amid the flotsam and stam of some summer resort, or his acquaintance ay have commenced by the assiduity with which 2 picked up falling gloves, or the steadiness of his are at the church door on Suridlryh, which rrotdd Imit only of recognition or insult, and the former as preferable as the least of theevili Tbe prob>ility is that an agreeable and wefl-infonned sfcranjr is a gentleman?the chances an that he-it* seal. The feet that a man's name is Brown, and tat he is well-dressed, is not Alifldent It mtfcftt i ascertained whether his parents were named rown, how they subsisted, how the present Brb#n ibsists, and whether his chances for future substence are unclouded. A prudent map will iaist in neither house nor land until the title of such : clear. A prudent woman should call no man iend or acquaintance until his title to the name of mtlemau be as clear as honesty ran make it? bere may he romance in new acquaintances, but ost romantic young men desert their Inanrorftts hen the romance oeases to be profitable. . ?\ Brothers and fathers owe it, no leas a .duty to ieir daughters and sisters than to themselves, to id out the "character of the young men 'who ftelent their houses.. Only rascals would object to is, and honest men would seem all the brighter r the investigation. " Ifdaughters would he more careful in the se2tion of their friends, there would be fewer di rces and desertions, seductions and ?bearthr?akgs in this wide world, and we might, therefore, lvo a ereat deal more of sUnshineand much less ' shadow.?New York Rxper. Hon. W. W. Boycb.?Wefipd the following ief extract of a letter from our former Reprentative in Congress, in the Clarendon Prm. It addressed to Mr. Galluchafc, of that Dtanpt; "A word as to the public matters. I think our sople ought to register and participate iri the actions. To do nothing, will be to oommit suiie. I think the great point is to cany out Genal Hampton's ideas, and show themselves there' the friends of the colored people. Our pimple ould recognize what is inevitable in regard to e legal and political rights of the blacks, and ant, of their own volition, what will be given in ite of them. By this course, harmony between e two races will be maintained, and political wer in the State will remain in sate hands. All pressions through the press or otherwise against e dominant party here, should be avoided. It impossible at this time for the Democratic party help the South. The great object with the iuth novr should be to get established in their htical rights. Then a feeling of confidence will Ice the place of present insecurity, and capital w in from the North. I feel intensely for the unhappy condition of my luthera friends. You must not be discouraged struggle on?affairs must improve. With kind wishes, your friend, ' WILLIAM W. BOYCE. How to Do Good.?Dr. Johnson wisely said, le who waits to do a great deal at once, will verdo anything.'* Life is made up of.little ings. It is but once in an age that occasion is ered for doing a great deed. True greatness oonts in being great in little things. How are railids built ? By one shovel of dirt after another; e shovel at a time. Thus drops moke the ocean, mce we should be willing to do a little good ata ae, and never wait to do a great deal of good at Trt 1J J 1. J *_ xt |j ce. u we wouia ao mucu gooa. id uie wona, must be willing to do good in little things, little a one after another; speaking. a word here, dng a tract there, and setting a good example all 1 time; we must do the first thing we can, and 2 next, and then the next, and so keep on doing od. This is the way to accomplish anything.? us only^Bhall we do all the good in our power. Contraries.?Steele wrote excellently on temrance?when sober; Johnson's essay on poKte5s is admirable, but he was himself a perfect ir; the gloomy verses of Young give one the ies, but he was a brisk, lively man; the 'Comts of Life,' by B. Heron, was written in prison, der the most distressing circumstances; 'Mises of Human Life,' was, on the oontnuy, com5ed in a drawing room, where the author was rounded by every luxury; all the friends of !rnc knew him to be a selfish man,"yet as a wrihe excelled in pathos and charity, at one time iting his wife, at another wasting his sympathies jr a dead monkey. Seneca wrote in praise of A rerty on a table formed of solid gold, with milas lent oat at usury; some of Hood's eomie effuus were written in bodily pain and mental dis^^H