N0 RWA LK
, GAZ ETT
. .. - _‘___."'__
PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY MORNING BY
AE. BYINGTON & 00.,
AT TW
1
o DOLLARS PERANNrIM IN ADVA
waistband to. 18in] ..
AA—tm:
'—'.,"_IM|‘
t - ._ .-
g going gamma, gotten to flood Mara ”and gums, calm gutrlligmv, gram", flotilla, gamma”, maintains, «ta--
TUESDAY, MARCH 4, 1862.
NUMBER 739--NEW SERIES,
NORWALK, CONN.,
NORWALK GAZETTE.
OFFICE IN GAZETTE BUILDING.
a3. arrives-01v & co..
A. B. BYINGTON, J. B. ELLs, G. N. ELLs.
_ Subscription Rates. _
All Subscribers by Carrier, Mail, Post Riders and
Wagoners, pe'r'year 00
Those living out of any
Carrier’s District, if
paid one year in advance,
Clubs of six or more sent to one address, to be
paid in advance,
Single copies 4 cents.
150
Advertising Rates.
One Square, one insertion,
“ two insertions,
three insertions,
one month,
two months,
three months,
six months,
one year—with paper
Two 8 cares, one year—with paper,
Each ditional Square, per year,
the half eolumn, one year,
a!
U'fllbwi-‘HHH
$802.8“
88888888618818
0p: Column, one year, .
F can lines, or 100 Wards,make a square. Fraction-
al of a square char ed for as a whole.
Year y advertisers have t a privilege of changing
the r'advertisements once per month. _Advertise-
meats chan ed oftener charged as transient.
Yearly udvertIsements payable 1st of January & July.
Yearly advertisers restricted to the business contem-
plated at the . time of contract. .
Cards, Resolutions, Funeral and all other Special No-
: ea 25 per cent. additional on the above.
These terms will be infiexrbly adhered to. .3
‘7.
BUSINESS DIRECTORY.
\'\.'\.’~./\“N\/\W\l\ Na‘KW-
Norwalk Post Office.
NAILS CLOSE
West 7.30 A. M.—2.30 P. M.
East 8.30 A. hit—5.00 P. M.
Danbury & Norwalk Railroad 8.50 A. M
Weston, Bedding and Reading Ridge, 1 ues.
days, Thursdays and Saturdays, st 12 M.
MAILS DUE.
West 9.10 A. M.——6.00 PM.
East 8.20 A. M.—3.30 P. M.
Danbury & Norwalk Railroad 8.00 A. M.
POST OFFICE HOURS.
From 7.00 A. M. to- 8.00 P. M.
’ (Emma OLMSTEAD, P. M.
~ , , ' ' N e w
HARDWARE &. PAINT STORE,
M a i n S t r e e t,
Opposite I. H. Campell’s Confectionery,
maavnv a raowrrr,
Wholesale and retail Dealers in Hardware,
Cutlery, Paints, Oils, Glass, Paper Hang-
ings, Window Shades, &c.
ROOFING SLATE,
; from Vermont,
VERY CHEAP,
At South Norwalk by
\
H. E. WING.
7 THE: ALLIS noose,
, (formerly Union House,)
Opposite N. Y. & N. H. Depot, in Union-st,
New Haven, Conn.
L.'P. ALLIS, PBOPRIETOR.
iv. A. Muscular, or. 3.,
Homeopathic Physician dz Surgeon.
Office over 0. T. Cornwall’s Store, first buil-
ding east of Norwalk Hotel,
NORWALK, CONN.
References .'
Prof. J. Beakley, Dean of the Faculty,
Prof. S. R. Kirby, Homeopathic Medical Col-
lege, New York city, or
G. W. Swazey. M. D., Springfield, Mass. 21
JAMES G. BANG“,
SURGICAL AND MECHANICAL
D E N '1' I S '1‘,
Office at Residence, East Avenue, Norwalk,
Connecticut.
Architecture.
SIDNI‘! M. STONE,
ARCHITECT,
Will furnish Plans, Specifications, _Detail
Drawings, and superintend the erection of
public and private buildings. Office in Mar-
ble Block, Chapel-st, New Haven, Ct. ttbz
E0. F. BELDEN, Norwalk, Conn.,Man—
ufacturer of Tin, Copper, and Sheet
Iron Ware; and dealer in 'Stoves, Ranges,
Furn Cutlery, Brittannia, Wooden and
Willow are, Crockery; and a full assort-
ment of House Keeping articles generally.
E. BISSELL, Auctioneer, will give
e particular attention to sales by Auc-
tion, of Real Estate, Personal Property and
Household Furniture : terms low.
wafersmm a co,
Importers; wholesale and retail dealers in
E‘RDWARE, IRON,
Steel Cutlery, Guns, Agricultural Imple-
merits, Oils, Paints, Window Glass, due.
a. s. nocnwoon,
Fashionable Draper & Tailor,
and
GENTLEMEN’S FURNISHING
EMPOBIUM !
No. 3 Skiddy’s Block, Main-st, N orwalk, Ct.
5.1:. osmsrnan 6:00..
Wholesaleand Retail Dealers in
Groceries. Flour, Peed, &c.,t
. 14 and 16 Main-st, Norwalk, Conn.
i‘i‘ns ~misuamvcr comranv,
Of Hartford.
Incorporated in 1819, Charter Perpetual.
Calls Capital $1,000,000
Insure against loss and damage by Fire,
on Terms adapted to the hazard,and
consistent with the laws of
compensation.
GEORGE E. COWLES, Sole Agent
1y3 - For Norwalk and vicinity.
New Meat Market.
HE Subscriber would respectfully inform
the public that he has
RENO VED HIS STAND
to Curtis’ Building, Main Street, and
tends keeping constantly on hand the choi-
cest of Beef, Pork, Mutton, Poultry, &c., &c.
Having had long experience in the business
he is confident of his ability to please. A
share of the public patronage is respectfully
solicited. JAMES BYXBEE.
Norwalk, Nov 5th, 1861. tf5
ROOFING.
HE subscriber is prepared to furnish par-
ties, building, with Warren‘s superior
FELT AND CEMENT R00 TING.
This article of Roofing is in use upon the
Norwalk Lock Compan ’9 Building, and at
Lounsbury, Bissell & 00 s, where it gives en-
tire satisfaction, and is beliewd to be the
cheapest as well as the best rou ing in use.—
From the Louisville Journal.
Shakspeare does not mention that Sir
John Falstaff made a will, and he certainly
had no personal effects to dispose of. But
our friend S. C. Mercer, in. the course of his
antiquarian researches, has discovered an
important document, which is valuable to all
legal gentlemen, and to the literary World
generally, as being the only copy extant of
Sir John Falstafl’s Will.
1, Sir John Falstaff, sound in mind,
But great in girth and short of wind,
And body sorely out of joint.
My lawful heir do now appoint,
And ere the shaft of death prevent.
Make my last will and testament,
And as all men love them the best
In whom their image is expressed,
So much their fancies are not nice
If 'tis in virtue or in vice,
And on their death-beds make selection
or heirs controlled by this affection ;
This love constrains me to be partial
To my dear likeness, Humphrey Marshall,
Whose weight and gravity, like mine
If tried had rendered Greece divine.
Imprimis. Then my portly figure
I give to him, to make it bigger.
Item. My hate of “thin potations"
And love of “sack” and dissipations.
Item. My valor, whose “discretion"
Will baffle Garfield’s expedition.
Item. “Consumption of the purse,”
Each day becoming worse and worse.
Item, My brag and gasiconade,” .
Which make “two buckrams" a brigade.
Item My “ragged regiment"
When he becomes a malcontent.
Item. Kentucky, Freedom’s casket,
Shall “buck” him well without the “basket.”
Item. She’ll throw him, for his pains,
“Snow-balls for pills to cool his veins.”
Item. Some "Pistols” in his troops,
“Burdolphs” and “Nyms” for robbing coops,
And “J uetice Shallows” for his dupes.
Item. As “Boar’s Head” is no more,
He’ll lack the head, but be a bore.
Item. My prank at Shrewsbury fight
To “lard the lean earth” in his flight.
Item. Remorse for mis-spent hours,
Lost aims and prostituted powers.
Item. When he grows old and sickly,
The Courier shall be “Mistress Quickly.”
Item. To scourge him for his sins, sir,
The Journal’s “Merry Wives of Windsor.”
SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, [L. 8.]
Ancient Pistol,
Mistress Quickly,
Doll Tearsheet,
A irue copy—attest
€Witnesses.
SHALLOW, Justice.
W
The Bright Little Girl.
'3! WILLIAM ALLINGKAM.
Her blue eyes they beam and they twinkle,
Her lips have made smiling more fair!
0n cheek and on brow there’s no wrinkle,
But thousands of curls in her hair.
She’s little—you don’t wish her taller;
Just half through the teens is her age ;
And baby or lady to call her,
Were something to puzzle a sage.
_Her walk is far better than dancing;
. She speaks as another might sing;
And all by an innocent chancing,
Like lambkin and birds in the Spring.
Unskill‘d in the airs of the city,
She’s perfect in natural grace;
She's gentle and truthful and witty,
And ne’er spends a thought on her face.
Her face, with the fine glow that’s in it,
As freshlas an apple-tree bloom—
And oh! when she comes, in a minute,
Like sunbeams she brightens the room.
As taking in mind as in feature,
How many will sigh for her sake!
I wonder, the sweet little creature,
What sort of a wife she would make.
e‘. pa
From the Continental Monthly.
Hemming Cotton.
“Hem them in l” is the country’s cry;
"See how the bayonet needles fly!
Nothing neglect and nothing leave,
Hem them in from the skirt to sleeve.
Little they reek of scratch or hurt
Who toil at hemming the Southern shirt;
Little they‘ll care, as they shout aloud,
If the Southern shirt prove a Southern shroud.
:Hurrah for the needles sharp and thin!
Cotton is saved by hemmlng it in.
, .‘.
MRS. D——- AND CAPTAIN L—
In the city of Baltimore lived a lady named
No, we will keep back the real mime
fmm'publication and give only an assumed
initial, calling, her Mrs. D
-Mrs. D is the wife of a gentleman
engaged in mercantile pursuits. ,He is nei-
ther rich nor socially ambitious; though by
careful attention to business, he has accumu-
lated some property, and lives in good style
fer a man of his means.
Mrs. D is very much unlike her hus-
band in some respects. Social ambition is
one of her weaknesses. In marrying Mr_
D , whose father had been a mech anic,
she felt that she was letting herself down;
but, as the puny scion of an aristocratic fam-
ily that was decaying for lack of both moral
and intellectual force, she wisely accepted
the chance of being ingrafted on a more vig-
orous stock, even though in her estimation
the quality were inferior. Of this, however,
a fair difference of opinion may exist.
By birth and education Mrs. 1) con-
sidered herself a “lady.” That is a person of
superior quality-emade of floor stuff—than
the great body of the people; and, for this
advantage, entitled to deference and service
from allwho were held to be graded below her.
Toward all persons who ranked in the same
grade with her husband,Mrs. D assum-
ed an air of dignified superiority that offend-
ed some and imposed upon others. Assump'
tiou always carries weight with a class. Her
poverty before marriage—for the family had
about exhausted itself by extravagance, dissi-
pation, and want of thrift—had separated her
from many early friends; and her marriage
with the son of a mechanic, though a strong,
true, and rising mau,had caused others to
drop an acquaintance which had not for
some time been looked upon as desirable.
For several years after her umgiage Mrs.
D , whose husband could not afford
display in living, found it hard work to main-
tain her standing with any portion of the
proud exclusives with whorisit washer proud
ambition to associate. Still 8 to was ever at
the gate, gliding in upon all accessible occa-
sions, and holding a place by intrusion if not
under acknowledged right. By flattery she
kept in favor with some, and through them
drew to the side of others, whose repellent
coldnrss. Wculd haw “aid. a sensitive and
truly independent mind for in the distance.
Such was Mrs. D As her husband's
means increased she pressed him closely for
a more liberal dispensation thereof at home.
To this he yielded, even beyond his own
judgment; but never to an extent that touch-
All orders will receive prompt attention.
0. F LOOMIS.
A
but he saw that her bills did not exceed a cer-
tain sum that could be afforded. Gradually,
through elegance of attire and assumed im-
portance, Mrs. D widened her sphere
among the exclusives, and in corresponding
degree drew off from certain excellent peo-
ple, held as inferior, who had rather tolera~
ted than enjoyed her society.
Thus it stands with Mrs. D at this
present writing. To sum up in a sentence,
she is weak, badly educated proud, vain, un-
refined; the representative of a class of wo-
men who imagine themselves vastly superior
to other people,but who have scarcely a claim
to true womanhood—who call themselves
ladies par excellence, yet have scarcely a lady-
like quality.
Mr. D-——, on the contrary, is aman in the
true sense. Honorable, brave enough to be
independent and outspoken in the face even
of public opinion, and with sufficient force of
character to maintain himself in any right ac-
tion, at home or abroad. His wife had learn-
ed not only to respect him, but to stand aside
when he asserts his will.
To certain women in Baltimore, belonging
to this equivocal class, a new excitement of-
fered itself in the presence of United States
soldiers,th did the good work of saving that
city from self-destruction, as we save a mad-
man by chains. Treason foiled was splenetic
in its impotence. Prudence sealed the lips and
regulated the public conduct of large num-
bers of men whose hearts beat pulse for pulse
with the open enemies of their countryas who,
in all possible ways, gave them aid a comfort;
but women could venture upon a larger liber-
ty, and to their credit must it be recorded,
that some, who dressed in “silks and gay at-
tire,”wore goldaud diamondarode in splendid
carriages, and claimed to be ladies of the first
water, stooped to acts of coarseness and vul-
garity that would shame a market-woman.-
Uiiprovoked insults were offered to soldiers
and officers in the street by, these women,
who even spat upon them in many instances
thus showing the depraved quality of their
minds. Foremost in the practice of these in-
dignities was Mrs. D—, who was encourag-
ed by the class among whom she visited.
One day,fired by the almost insane malice
of half a dozen free-talking women with
whom she had been in conference, Mrs. D—-—
in company with a friend, started forth to
enjoy the pain of soldiers and officers subject-
ed to wanton insults, which because offered
by women, they could not resent. Passing a
soldier, Mrs. D— purposely dropped her
lace-bordered handkerchief. The soldier,
under an impulse of politeness—at home he
moved in quite as good, and certainly in a
more cultivated, society than the lady—step-
ped forward, and lifting the handkerchief
frbm the pavement, offered it to Mrs. D-‘—.
There was an instant flash of contempt on
'her face, and a strong upward curl of her lip.
She drew herself back for a moment like
one in surprise at a rudeness, then taking the
handkerchief between the tips of her thumb
and finger,she held it far from her, like some—
thing infected, and, moving to the curbstonc
dropped it in the muddy gutter. Not deign-
ing to glance back at the soldier, she swept
away with an air of dignified hauteur that,
to her mind, was worthy ofaa princess. A
jeering laugh from some vulgar fellows ad-
ded to the soldier's momentary feeling of dis
comfiture.
'Proud of her shame, Mrs. D——-—— swept
down the sheet. In the next block she en-
countered an oflicer. Throwing upon him a
look of supreme contempt, Mrs. D
swerved from the right line of her course,
and avoided him by taking a quick circle,
that brought her crowded up against a mer-
chant’s show-window.
_“One of your vile women in gala dress,"
» remarked the officer to n loyal-citizen with
whom he was walking.
.“No; she is the wife of a Baltimore mer-
chant,” was replied—“a Mrs. D—.”
“Formerly a servant-maid, or woman of
the lower class, judging from her manners.”
“No; Mrs. D—— is from one of our best
families.”
“Heaven save the mark!” ejaculated the
oflicer. “If she represents the best, of what
style and quality must your worst be? But
really, I thought her a woman of the town,
and it was on my lip to address her in old
Ben Jonson’s salutation to the lady of rank
who ventured a wanton insult—
‘“ln silk and scarlet walks many a harlot——
Good morning, madam!”
' “I wish you had done so,” was replied. “It
might have suggested the bad reputation she
was making for herself in the eyes of all de-
cent people. But is there no way to check
these insults?”
“I have made up my mind to check them
in all instances where they exceed a certain
limit.”
, “Ah, what is the limit?”
“My judgment of the insult, when it occurs
must determine,”
“What will you do ‘2”
“Hold the husband, father, or brother, as
the case may be, personally responsible,”
“Will the rules of the service permit this?”
“I shall not ask.” ‘
“Suppose the husband brother or father
will not respond ?”
“Then I shall govern myself by the law of
circumstances. But of one thing you may
rest assured—should I make a beginning in
this matter, I will see the end at all hazards.
I do not belong to a quick-blooded race, but
the blood once heated, cools slowly. When
we put our hands to the plow, we never look
back.”
The officer and the citizen walked, con-
versing, for half an hour, when being in the
eastern part of the city, they took a car and
rode up Baltimore street. In pasring Calvert
street the officer bought an extra from a news
boy, and was opening it, when the lady who
had swept so haughtily around him not long
, before entered the car with her friend. See:
ing the officer, Mrs. D gave a short,
contemptuous “Oh!” and sat down just op-
posite. From her sneering face the officer
dropped his eyes quietly to the paper he had
just opened, and began reading. Mrs. D——
at once commenced talking aloud to her
friend, and using the most offensive remarks
touching the soldiers and the people of the
States from which they had come. This she
continued, the apparent unconsciousness of
the officer increajling her ipritgtiou,‘ our] cans;
ing by; to olmogt exhaust the vocabulary of
low incentive. As if she were not present,
the officer read on. At last the car was in
the neighborhood to which Mrs. D— was
going, and she nodded to the conductor.—
'l‘he check-string was pulled, and the car
stopped. Mrs. D—- arose, and, to her
ed his safety. She dressed extravagantly;
shfi" M if 712.1, -- 4... in... a" apnea of de-
cency and self-respect as to spit in the officer’s
face.
Looking up with flashing eyes, and red
spots burning on his checks the officer said,
as he drew his handkerchief and wiped the
venom from his face—speaking with sup-
pressed anger—
“You are no lady! If you were a man,
you would not leave this car alive !”
An hour later, as Mr. D— sat in his
counting-room, a gentleman, with whom he
was partially acquainted, came in. There
was in the face of the latter an expression that
sent a troubled wave across the feelings of
Mr. D—. It was threatening and mysteri-
ous. He arose, bowing with some distance
and formality. “I come. Mr. D—-—,” said
the gentleman, “on very unplevant business.
An ofllcer in the. United States service has
received a public insult at the hands of your
wife, for which he has determined to hold
you responsible.”-
A sudden paleness overspread the face of
Mr. D—. “ My wife insulted an officer l”
he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise. How?
when, where ?”
“She Spit in his face.”
“Impossible !’ ’
“I saw it.”
“Then he must have grossly insulted her.”
On the'contrary, be neither spoke to nor
looked at her.”
“Where was it ?”
“In one of the city cars. 'He sat reading.
and she, in company with a female friend,
sat opposite. In conversing aloud they ap-
plied to soldiers the most oflbnsive language,
but he never even glanced toward them.—
Finally, they arose to leave the car, When
Mrs. D—— bent forward and spit in , his
face. I saw it done, and there can be no mis-
take. The ofllCer‘is Capt. L'—-'—, of Massa-
chusetts, a gentleman of wealth, education,
and high social position, and he holds you
responsible for the conduct of Your Wife.”
“Madness!” exclaimed the merchant throw-
ing his arms above his head. “Has the wo-
man lost all sense and decency! What does
Capt. L— want?”
Nothing unreasonable, sir. But these out-
rages upon loyal soldiers, who are simply
obeying the call of their Government and do-
ing duty as it directs,must be made to cease.
If the perpetrators shield themselves under
the immunities of their sex, their next of
male-kin must answer in consequences. You
must bear the burden of your wife’s deeds."
“My wife shall apologize,” said Mr. D—
His mind was beginning to grow clear.
“Capt. L-—‘-cannot call upon her to re-
ceive an apology.”
“But she shall call upon him at his quar-
tors.”
“Very well.”
“You bear a challenge 1?”
“No; I come to demand satisfaction. If
that is not given, then—” '
"I must fight.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Very well. Here is pen, ink, and paper.
Sit down and write a challenge in the name
of Captain L——. Make it strong. Confu-
sion take these women! Will they never
cease playing the fool ‘2”
The friend of Captain L— sat down and
wrote a very peremptory demand for satis-
faction, closing with the sentence, “It must
be prompt, full and complete, or you will be
held to the last resort.”
“In less than thirty minutes from that time
Mr. D———— stood, pale, angry and agitated,
before his wife. '
“At last,” he said, passionately, you have
completed your evil work. Warning and re-
monstrance have been of no avail. Had you
no decency, no self-repect left ? What fiend
possessed you ?”
The color went out of Mrs. D—’s face.—
Fear and alarm overshadowed it. Never in
her life had she seen her husband so moved
—never had she felt in such awe of him.—
Usually so calm, his violence now almost
appalled her, and she felt weak and vaguely
guilty before him. . ”
“ What do you mean ?” she asked.
“ You spat in a gentleman’s face, to-day.”
The crimson of shame crept over her coun-
tenance.
“ Disgracing yourself and your husband
in the very public eye; and now my life’s-
blood must be the penalty. The oflicer
whom you outraged—a man of wealth and
high position at home—holds me responsi-
ble for the insult. There is his challenge 1”
and he drew the paper from his pocket and
held it forth.
Mrs. D— shuddered and dropped nerve-
less into a chair. This was a great deal
more, in the way of consequences, than had
ever entered her foolish brain.
“ 0h, Henry l” she sobbcd, “ what have I
done 1’”
“ Disgraced yourself, and put your hus-
band’s life in jeopardy,” was the stern an-
swer. “And now you must choose one of
two things: the humiliation of an apology,
or the loss of your husband; for I shall not
refuse the satisfaction demanded, even though
I never fired a pistol, and the officer knows
his weapon. Of course, I shall fall!”
A cry of fear shivered on the air. “Oh,
what have I done! what have I done!” fol-
lowed in distressed tones.
“ An act for which atonement is demand:
ed; and there is no escape. It is my life, or
your humiliation.
“Where is the officer? asked Mrs. D—,
faintly.
“ At the camp on Federal Hill.”
“ I will apologize," she spoke, in con-
straiut.
“ Let it be your own set,” said Mr. D——,
firmly. “ Can you think such evil of me 1‘”
“It must be your own act,” be repealed.
“ You will go with me ?”
“No; I shall take no part in this humilia.
tion, I_f Captain L—m- demands my life, let
him tnkeit. I am a man, and never did a
mean or ungentlemunly thing that I should
humble myself before another man. If you
were brave enough to offer an insult, you
must be brave enough to offer an apology.—
The issue lies in your hands.”
Mr. D—-— was wholly in earnest, and
neither the tears nor entreaties of his wife
moved him. .
Captain L—-—- was sitting iij his tent, in
company with W"- 0“le officers, when a
sergeaqt came to the entrance and said that
a lady had called to see him. The two oili-
cers moved to retire, but he directed them to
remain. '
“ Conduct her to my tent,” said Capt.
L—, in answer to the sergeant.
In a few moments n handsomely dressed
lady, with her veil down, entered. Capt.
. L— at once recognized her, and stood up
~ have been so made as to leave still greater.
_ the rulers of a country rely on to reconcile
with a grave but not angry countenance.
“ Mrs. D——,” the Captain answered,'bow-
ing. There was a quality of tone and air
about the officer that inspired her with a
feeling of respect. He merely pronounced
her name, and then stood awaiting her fur-
ther purpose.
“ I am here to offer an apology for conduct
that has no excuse. Will you accept the
apology.”
“On one condition,” replied Captain L—.
“ Name it, sir.”
“ That you promise, on the word of a lady,
never again to insult a soldier or an oflléer.”
“I promise,” was the low answer.
“ Then the past is past, madam. And now
permit me to conduct you from the camp.”
And with the bearing of a gentleman, as
he was, Captain L—- attended Mrs. D'-—-
to the carriage in which she had come, and
closing the door for her after she had enter-
ed, said, in parting-
“The lesson is a severe one, madam; but
the fault was grave, and constrained a harsh
reaction. We are here as friend, not as'ene
mics—as gentlemen, not ruflians. At ’the
the call of our country, not to invade or'
wrong. We come to save, not to deatroy.--
When will you learn to read events aright ‘3”
And turning from her, the officer went
back to his tent, and the lady rode to the
city, an humbler if not a wiser woman.
The story, as such stories always will, got
out, and was repeated from lip to lip. From
that time, women of Mrs. D-——’s style of
thinking and feeling conducted themselves
with ittle more public decorum. It is quite
certain that Captain L— was never insult-
ed again.
0-1.>~
_ The Voice of Europe.
There is no man living in England whose
judgment is more respected, at home and
abroad, on all political questions, than that ’
of John Stewart Mill. He has made himself
a name as a profound thinker, candid-reason-
er, and thorough scholar, on all questions of
political economy, logic or philosophy. The
correspondence between Mill and DeToc-
quevllle throws light upon the relation of
John Stuart Mill to European thinkers. It' ;
is pleasant therefore to read the following
from Mill’s pen respecting the Trent affair
and our Government :
It is almost superfluous to remark, that a
democratic Govenment always show worse
where other Governments generally show
best, on its outside; that unreasonable peo- .
ple are much more noisy than the reasona-- -
ble; that the froth and scum are the part of
a violently fermenting liquid that meets the;
eyes, but are not its body and substance.—
Without insisting on these things, I contend :
that all previous cause of offence should be;
considered by the reparation which the
American Government’has so amply made; ,
not so much the reparation itself, which
cause of permanent resentment be-
hind it; but the manner and spirit in‘
which diey have made it. These have been :
such as most of us, I venture to say, did not‘
by any means expect. If reparation were,
made at all, of which few of us felt more
than a hope, we thought that it would have
been obviously as a concession to prudence,
not to principle. We thought there would
have been truckling to the newspaper edit-
ors and supposed fire-eaters who were cry-
ing out for retaining the prisoners at all haz-
ards. We expected that the atonement, if
atonemement there Were, would have been
made with reservations, perhaps under pro-
test. We expected that the correspondence
would have been spun out, and a trial made
to induce England to be satisfied with less;
or that there would have been a proposal of
arbitration; or that England would have
been asked to make concessions in return for
justice; or that if submission was made, it
Would have been made, ostensibly, to the
opinions and wishes of Continental Europe.
We expected anything, in short, which
would have been weak, and timid, and pal-
try. The only thing which no one seemed
to expect is what has actually happened.—
Mr. Lincoln’s Government have done none
of these things. Like honest men, they have
said in direct terms that our demand is right;
that they yielded to it because it was just;
that if they themselves had received that
same treatment they' Would have demanded
the same reparation; and that if what seem-
ed to be the American side of a question was
not the just side, they would be on the side
of justice; happy as they were to find, after
their resolution had been taken, that it was
also the side which America had formerly
defended. Is there any one, capable of a
moral judgment or feeling, who will say that
his opinion of America and American states-
men is not raised by such an act, done on
such grounds? The set itself may have
been imposed by the neussity of the circum-
stances; but the reasons given, the princi-
ples of action professed, were their own
choice. Putting the worst hypothesis pos-
sible, which it would be the height of injus-
tice to entertain seriously, that the conces-
sion was really made solely to convenience,
and that the profession of regard for justice
was hypocrisy—even so, the ground taken,
even if insincerely, is the most hopeful sign
of the moral state of the American mind
which has appeared for many years. That
a sense of justice should be the motive which
the public to an unpopular, and what might
seem a humiliating act; that the journalists,
the orators, many lawyers, the Lower House
of Congress, and Mr. Lincoln’s own Naval
Secretary, should be told in the face of the
world, by their own Government, that they'
have been giving public thanks, presents of
swords, freedom of cities, all manner of he-
roic honors to the author of an act which,
though not so intended, was lawless and
wrong, and for which the proper remedy is
confession and atonement; that this should
be the accepted policy (supposing it to be
nothing higher) of a democratic republic,
shows even unlimited democracy to he a
better thing than many Englishmen have
been in the habit of considering it, and goes
some way toward proving that the aberra-
tions of it moving multitude are only fatal
when the better instructed have not the vir.
tue of the courage to front them boldly.
.‘.-.
fi‘fl’ll take the responsibility,” as
Jenkins said when he held out his arms
for the baby.
Railroad trains; are promoted from. it?
cideot as houses are from ligb,tn,ing-—__—by
,: of spring, and watch the cattle, whose
.faces look half human to me as they sun
proof drills holes through the wasting
the by the side of their dams, and utter
feeble bleating, while the flock nibble at
‘The proud old rooster crows upon his
the life abides, which has appropriated
these things, and I find among them its ing the gentlemen t0 exhorting the '3'
home. The hour of the evening has dies, we would counsel the latter that
come, and lamps are lighted, and a good nothing detains Cupid like a good dinner,
man in middle life—though very old he
seemed to mc—takes down the Bible and of the marriage-hearth is a good cooking
reads a chapter from its hallowed pages.
ently about me.
the words, but I was told that they were
fine, from lips which memory makes im-
p'rc'runEs or HOME.
I recall a home long since left behind
me in the journey of life, and its memory
floats back over me witha shower of emo-
tions and thoughts, toward whose pre-
cious fall my heart opens itself greedily
like a thirsty flower. It is a home
among the mountains—~humble and
homely—but priceless in its wealth of
associations. The waterfall sings in my
ears as it used to through the dreamy,
mysterious nights. The rose at the gate,
the patch of tansy under the window, and
the neighboring orchard, the old elm, the
grand machinery of storms and showers,
the little smithy under the hill that
flamed with strange light through the
dull winter evenings, the wood-pile at
the door, the ghostly winter-birches of
the hill, and the dim-blue haze on the re-
tiring mountsins—all these come back to
meiwith an appeal that touches my heart
and moistens my eye.
I sit again in the doorway at summer
nightfall, eating my bread and milk,look—
ing ofi‘ on the darkening landscape, and
listening to the shouts of boys upon the
hill-side, calling or driving home the re-
luctant herds.
ous’ way of the dusky night-hawk along
the twilight sky, and listen. to his meas-
ured note, and breezy boom that accom-
panies his headlong plunge toward the
earth.
_ Even the old barn, crazy in every tim-
ber and gaping at every joint, has charms
for me. I try again the breathless leap
from the great beams into the hay. I
_sit again on the threshold of the widely
opened doors—opened to the south wind
themselves and peacefully ruminate,while
drop by drop the melting snow on the
drift beneath the eaves. ‘
The first little lambs of the season tot-
the hay-racks, or a pair of rival wethers
try the strength of their skulls in an en-
counter, half in earnest and half in play.
dunghill throne, and some delighted mem-
ber of his silly family leaves her nest, and
tells to her mates and to me that there
is another egg in the world.
The old horse whinners in the stall,and
calls to me for food. I look up to the
roof and think of last. year’s swallows-—
soon to return again—~and catch a
glimpse of angular sky through the dia-
How, I know not,
But I look into the house again where
A sweet woman sits at his side, and
brothers and sisters are grouped rever-
I do not understand
the words of God, and I believed it.—
The long chapter ends, and then we all
kneel down and the old man prays. I
fall asleep with my head in a chair, and
the next morning remember nothing how
I Went to bed.
After breakfast the Bible is taken
down and the good man prays again;
and again is the worship repeated thro’
all the days of my golden years. The
pleasant converse of the fireside, the sim-
ple songs of home, the words of encour-
agement as I bend over my school tasks,
the kiss as I lie down to rest; the pa-
tient bearing with the freaks of my rest-
less nature, the gentle counsels mingled
with reproof and approval, the sympathy
that meets the pangs of every little sor-
row and sweeteus every little success, all
these return to me amid the responsibili-
ties which press upon me new, and I feel
as if I had once lived in Heaven, and
straying, lost my way.
Well, the good old man grow old and
weary, and fell asleep at last, with bles-
sings upou his lips for me. Some of
those who called him father, lie side by .
side in the some calm place. The others
are scattered and dwell in new homes,
and the old house, barn and orchard have
passed into the hands of strangers, who
have learned, or who are learning to look
upon them as I do now.
' Lost, ruined, forever left behind, that
be e is mine today, as truly as it ever
was, for have I not brought it away and
shown it to you? It was the home of
my boyhood. In it I found my first
mental food, and by it was my young
soul fashioned. To me, through weary
years and many dangers and sorrows, it
has been a perennial fountain of delight
and purifying influence, simply because
it was my home and was and is part of
me. The rose at the gate blooms for me
now——the landscape comes when I sum-
mon it ; and I bear the voices that call
mortal,
i Things that never Slop. He that is
good will become better, and he that is
bad, worse; for virtue, vice and time
good conductors.
I watch again the devi- ,
VOL
Dinners.
qucnt upbn good dinners or bad ones :
tween conjugal felicity and the reverse?
Is it not congeniality of tastes in a limiJ
ted sense of the word? Why, for ins-
tance, is young Smith (who married that
pretty little girl whom you and I remem-
ber dancing like a fairy, and playing like
an angel, at that party in Russell Square)
such an undomesticated dog—always slo-
ping off to a club, or joining in whitebait
dinners,or spending an occasional evening
at home in sulky growling? 'Is it not
because the young lady knows about as
much of cooking as her aforesaid paral-
lels the angel and fairy might be expect.-
ed to do? There is no ability in the par-
lor, there _ is utter incompetency. in the
kitchen, and Smith flies from the dreary
alternative of gory boiled and charred
roast, to other climes and lawless dissi-
potion.
And now shift the scene, and look at
Brown’s establishment. He married—
and you will recollect the “ab, poor fel-
low” tone in which our set long spoke of
the event—a girl without money or fami-
ly, with eyes of gooseberry; and hair of,
flame, who danced like an elephant and
sang like a pea-fowl. And nowwhat a
steady-going, inseparable ,' Darby-and-Jo~~
an sort of couple they are. Why do we
all like dropping in there? apart of '
course, from the delight which the con
templation of their virtuous happiness
creates in our well-regulated minds. Per'
haps a secondary reason may be found in
which Mrs. Brown knows how to devise,
and in the preparation of which I rather
fancy her little fingers assist; at least I
think I can detect the pride of author-
ship in the air with which she serves a
charming omelette or severs some flak y
puff-crust.
Smith and Brown have their counter-
parts everywhere. Oh beloved middle-
aged brethren do we not find continually
that there is but one steady source of
sublnnary pleasures ? Julia’s chiselled
nose reddens towards the tip ; Amy’s
dainty feet deveIOp into beetle-Crushers ;
Fanny scolds and Emma flirts, and Em-
ily drinks. But the prime sirloin retains
its flavor. The turtle-~in soup at least-—— _
knows not inconstancy. The snipe and
mood shaped opening that gave them the leveret are as delicious as in the Ian d I’ll have this
_ingress and egress.
and care not, but that old barn is a part was before us. No shadows have dim’d
‘oi myself—it has entered into life and
given me growth and wealth.
days when we were young and the world
our mutual attachment. We do not
weary of them, nor they of us.
And if we might turn, after the man.
ner of the marriage-service, from exhort-
that the best security for the happiness
fire upon it. Yes, dear ladies, we quite
agree with you—those men are shocking-
ly destitute of ethereal natures. Still
we bid you feed the wretches skillfully.
Those bad dinners are the wreck of
many a household.
«.>e‘_—_
13.. An Alabama volunteer writes
from one of the rebel camps :
“There’s a new disease broken out
here—the ‘camp disease,’ they call it.—
The first symptom is a horror of gunpow-
der. The patient can’t abide the smell
of it, but is seized with a nervous trem-
bling of the knees. and a whiteness about
the liver, and a longing inclination to ad-
vance backward. That’s the way water
serves mad dogs. Then comes what our
Major calls home fever; and next the
suflerer’s wife and nine children are ta-
ken sick; after which the poor fellow
takes a collapse, and then a relapse.—
But its mighty hard to get a discharge,
or even a furlough—-awful hard. Fact
is, you can’t do it without working the
thing pretty low down.
I tell you what, Bob, between you
and me, I’m afraid I’m taking the dis-
ease myself; I don’t like the reports we
hear every day from the coast. We hear
cannon booming down there by the hour,
and they say the Yankees are going to
play the very devil with our ducks. I
think I can detect a faint smell of pow-
der in the breeze, and feel a strange de-
sire to go into some hole or other. It
may be the climate ; I hope so, but
don’t see how that should make me turn
so cold about the havcrsdck every time I
see a bayonet. ' If I only had some good
spirits, now, to take every morning, I
think 1 could standit very Well. Please
send me some immediately on receipt of
this. (N. B.——Mnrk the box ‘Drugs,’
care Surgeon 2d Batt. Ala. Vols.’ Our
Major is sharp as a brier, and down on
brandy lake a duck on a Juuebug. "
—-—-~<o—~———
Those are most valuable that are most
serviceable ; and those are the greatest,
not that have the most talents, but that
use those they possess the most usefully.
We are prisoners as often as m- bolt our
doors, exiles as often as we travel, and
dead as often as We sleep.
”Value the friendship of him who stands
by you in the storm ; swarms of insects
Domestic Felicity and Good
The London Literary Gazette, in a
criticism of "The Lady’s Guide,” a new
English cookbook—discourses thus of
the domestic felicity or infelicity conse-
What makes the great . difference be- I
the delicious little dinners and suppers ,
UME XLV-NUMBERQE
A Down} East Juryn'ia'ii.”
[“ Ethan Spike” contributés‘to the
Portland Transcript a sketChfof bisex-
perience as a juryman. The first cases
the criminals beings German and: “nig-
ger” respectfully] . . .
“Hcv you formed any opinion for or
agin the prisoners ?” said the J udge.
“Not perticular agiu the Jarmiu,” says
1, “but, I hate niggers as a general-Sprin-
ciple, and shall go for hanging 'this'ihfew
Mr. Cooper or not,” says I.
i 4:4 1 >
the clark'axed me. ~ _
“I orter,” says I. “I’ve used enough I
only about—_" ' ‘
wanted in this ere case,” says
says be.
“What,” says I,
nigger at all ?”
“No,” says the Clark. ’ -
“But I’m a jewryman,” says I, “and
you can’t hang the nigger onless Event.
on him,” says I. _ ,
, “Pass on,” says the clerk
rather cross. l [I . . _.,
“But,” says I, “you, mister,-you’don’t
mean as you say ; I’m a regular jewry
man, you know; ‘Drawed seat of ' the’
the id“;
”ain’t I 'to'try this
ollers had a hankering'tox‘ha’ng’ anig'ger,j
and now, when a merciful dispensatory
seems to have provided one for. 1110.49.02».
say I. shan’t sit on him. -Ar.:this£‘your.. ,
freeinstitutiona? “Is this monument: ~
centry ‘? , And is~'-:“this-‘ our boasted”;
Here somebody hollered Silence in Court.
“The Court be—” I didn’t snags..- .,
remark, for a couple of constablesihadh
hold of me, and in the twinkling.bf::a-:
bed-post I was hustled down stairsfiin‘to-
thestreet. . I I
Naow, Mr. Editor, let ,me‘askfwhht
gal, lawful jewrymen kin be tossed aboutfi; .-
in this way ? Talk about'Cance'rs, Mou- Pd:
mons, Spiritualism, free love and panics“?
jewryman I was. ink and Carried-1 'dDwnu
stairs by profane bands, just for‘asse'i‘tin'g“ '-
mx right to sit on niggel'rwhyit" sens“
...-4
that in my sacred person the hull State,
itself was, figgeratively speaking-kick
daown stairs 1
case brought ridding?! f
writ of habeas corpus icksey Dicks“. 3‘ " ‘
<‘.-- . _ ‘ .
WiNE MORE DEADLYlTHAN Caxuoh.;’ I
Wendell Phillips said in a recentaddtcsa:.. .
“I know a soldier in the army‘of. thciPoL~
tomac, who was picked up in the-streak":
of‘Philadelphia, one year ago, ‘a coin-i
plete wreck, a confirmed inebriate,_,bu§t:
who was. by the love of a sisterauflftllo .
charity of a Boston Home, placed- choir-3.
mere on his feet. = He was fat” Ball’si -
Bluff, and three times with, 'hii‘ldiid‘ezdij‘
musset charged upon the enemy? {119‘
was one of the six who heroically, do? 4
fended and brought away the body of».
the fallen leader of that bloody fighter-:-
The captain of the company to'whicly
he belonged died in his arms, receiving
the last words of consolation from his ,
lips. He was afterward conspicuous iii
the conflict, until the orders were. given
for each one to seek his owusafety. Re-
maving some of his apparel he plunged 3
into the inhospitable river, andfa'ftérn“:
bank, seven miles below the encampmentg
Nearly exhausted, chilled, half-clad, half-
starved, he finally reached the camp.»
The captain of the next company’tti‘“
which he belonged, kindly said to him,
pouring out a glass of wine, "Let Ame
give‘you this; you will perish without. it”:
“I thank you, sir,” said the soldier, "but.
t
J".
enemy than taste that glass of Wine!“-
. :1;
_—_.....-.
Mon look at the faults of, others with ’
instrument reversed, or not at all.
is sad. The rainbow is beautiful in the'
air while beneath is the moaning of the
sea. ' L .
'The Persians huVe a saying, that~"ten.
measures of talk were sent .down: upon»:
the earth, and the women took nine.” : ‘
he' will generally retire if you semi hint,
word you are “engaged.” - . .
——-——.o‘.>e .———.—. _
lent substitute for indigo in coloring army’”,
and navy cloths. The last season-sevemli‘l"
tops at a remunerative price andhadthe bot; , .,
toms left, as the following 'statein'eiit‘ lioivs; ' ‘
John N. Colton of Lougmeadow out refilmh
of August last out the tops .from.a=fourthofi-~ .
an: acre of carrots. They were out about two:
inches high with butcher knives, and it took
about one day’s labor to perform the opera:
tion.. They could be out much quickér'wnh' ‘
a little practice.
premises for $20a ton. Soon ui‘tercutting
the tops,'plaster was sowed on thellandL—
ofatliosc first cut and on the~1st=obevemliel a?"
were cute second time weighing 1250 pounds. . _.-; ;
and selling for $10 a ton, making both pro _
and measured ll7‘bushels.errom appears -
an'ces- there might have been about Ekbushels. .
more growth of carrotsjf the topshadynot,
been cut—Springfield Republiwh. ‘ ' ‘
w
W When you hear a man say that the:
Black Republicans have caused the war, he;
we: stop.
Wm surround you in the sonshilie.
sure thathis heartj‘g‘jysjhththe 19%;... ;
.1»
he was called to trywere capital (may; .-
‘old white‘wooled cuss, whether hekillled :
“Do yen know the nature ofau‘oathzl”
of ’em; Ibegun to swearwhen vaa’s V
“That’ll do,” says the»clbrk.} “You
' . '.7.-t.-2"§ :lii’.
kmvgo hum.” says he. _“yoa._..;uca’,-fin_i_
. 31555th
box by Zthe. se'elick “130;", says; “Tie"?
are we coming to, when jewrymen¥l§a ,
Q” Carrot tops have been found an excel-ll, -.
‘3.
—-what etc they in comparison? Here’h
a principle upsot As an individual,‘peij
haps, I’m of no great account, ’lfiifiklbf ‘
me to say ; but when as an enlightened .‘
tome the pilloWs of seciety were shook,
If than is lawvzimt' '.-.
1 "
great exertion landed on the opposite "
I would sooner face all the cannon of the i ‘
')
A smile may be bright while the heart" ' .
:The cheerful are the busy ; when tron-,1“:
ble knocks at your door or rings the bell, , ,,
.-ii
in.
f
l
carrot raisers in this section sold their grjcenj'.
I
The green‘w'eigh't of that. »'
tops was 2025 pounds, which sold...on tho ;;
The tops gradually grew about half the size“ ‘
of,tops $26 50. The Carrotswere th’enpfin“ * ’- -_
.-.»—-—.H
“ WW—
W...“ .. A. ,
“fl”... a, \._N_. ,,_...,'.._, ...
» a.
l
.l -, ,- ..,....
x
a telescope ; at their own with the same} , '
I
l
f
.w
i.
.n..-o-'-“-\.. “v. av “ .
... -‘-»‘L.
l
Norwalk Chronicler