PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY MORNING BY
A. H. BYINGTON & 00.,
AT TWO DO LLARS PER ANNUM, IN ADVANC
RWALK CIA ET ‘ E. .
4
g gutting gltwspam, Quoted to $00113th and gamma, drum! gamma, 3mm”, goblins, Sanctum, _&wluuita tit-"Cutaltlislua in 180.0.
‘1
. .
NUMBER 777 --NEW SERIES,
NORWALK GAZETTE.
OFFICE IN GAZETTE BUILDING.
a. H. BYINGTON & Co.
A. H. BYINGTON, J. B. ELLs, G. N. ELLs_
Subscription Rates.
All Subscribers by Carrier, Mail, Post Riders
Wagoners, per year ~
Those living out of any Carrier’s Disliict, if
paid one year In advance,
Clubs of six or more sent to one address, to be
paid in advance,
Single copies 4 cents.
and
0
Advertising Rates.
One Square, one insertion, $1 00
" two insertions, 1 1 25
“ three insertions, 1 50
“ one month, 1 '75
, two months, 3 00,
‘ three months, 4 00
“ six months, .7 00
“ one year—with paper 15 00
Two 8 uares, one year—with paper, 25 00
Each ditional Square, per year, 8 00
One half column, one year, 40 00
One Column, one year, '75 00
Fifteen lines, or 100 words,make a square. Fraction-
al arts of a square char ed for as a whole. .
Year y advertisers have 1: 1e privilege of changing
their advertisements once per month. Advertise-
ments changed oftener charged as transient.
Yearly advertisements 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-
tices, 25 per cent. additional on the above.
a” These terms will be inflexibly adhered to. g
‘ BUSINESS DIRECTORY.
«_’\.«-\’\. wa. \. \xvx'\x\_~y- ,4
' SNorwalk rust once.
MAILS CLOSE. ,
West 7.30 A. Ill—2.30 P. M.
East 8.30 A. ill—5.00 P. M.
Danhury & Norwalk Railroad 8.50 A. M.
Weston, Bedding and Bedding Ridge, Tues-
days, Thursdays and Saturdays, at 12 M.
NAILS DUE.
West 9.10 A. M.——6.00 P. M.
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.
CHARLES OLMSTEAD, P. M.
~_\,.-,, . \‘J.
N. A. MOSMAN, M. 1).,
Homoeopathic
Physician and Surgeon,
Oflice over C. J. Grumun’s Store,
NORWALK, CONN.
Office hours from 1 to 3 P. M.
Dr. J. J. WALLACE,
HOM(EOPATHIST,
Ofl’ice at Dr. Moody’s late Residence,
WEST AVENUE,
NOR WALK, CONN.
Slate at Mr. Frank Nash’s Store, South
Norwalk. _
New
HARDWARE 8t PAINT STORE,
M a i n S t r e e t,
Opposite I. H. Campell’s Confectionery,
MARVIN & PROWITT,
Wholesale and retail Dealers in Hardware,
Cutlery, Paints, Oils, Glass, Paper Hang-
ings, Window Shades, &c.
JAMES G. BARBOU’R,
SURGICAL AND MECHANICAL
D E N '.'l." I S '1',
Office at Residence, East Avenue, Norwalk,
Connecticut.
_ Architecture.
SIDNEY 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. tf52
E0. F. BELDEN, Norwalk, Conn.,Man-
ufacturer of Tin, Copper, and Sheet
. Iron Ware; and dealer in Stoves, Ranges,
Furnaces, Cutlery, Brittannia, Wooden and
Willow Ware, Crockery; and a full assort-
ment of House Keeping articles generally.
a. s. nocnwoon,
‘ Fashionable Draper & Tailor,
and
GENTLEMEN’S FURNISHING
EMPOBIUM I
No. 3 Skiddy’s Block, Main-st, Norwalk, Gt
3. n. OI-MSTEAD a co.,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
Groceries, Flour, Peed, &c.,
14 and 16 Main-st, Norwalk, Conn.
ETNL INSURANCE COMPANY,
Of Hartford,
Incorporated in 1819, Charter Perpetual.
Cash 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 B. COWLES, Sole Agent
1313 For Norwalk apd vicinity.
DENTAL CARD.
AN impression having gone abroad that
the undersigned has relinquished his
profession, this is to. inform his friends and
the public that he still continues the practice
of his profeSSlz‘in at his 011 stand, foot of
Main-st, Norwalk, Where he will be happy
to tender them his best services. In case of
tern orary absence,a skillful assistant will be
fun din attendance at the Office, ready and
willing to serve all that may call.
' A. LL, D. D. S.
A. JACKSON 6!. 330.
No. 1 Gazette Building.
WOULD respectfully announce to the
public and their old customers, that
they have recently made extensive additions
to their stock of goods. \Vc are nOW prepar-
ed to offer an assortment not to be surpassed
in Falrfield County, in quality or price. We
would call particular attention to our stock of
Watches, which is lar er than ever before.—
We have a fine lot of adics’ Swiss Watches,
in gold cases, at prices varying from $20 to
$75, which we can recommend as bein r cor-
rect timp keepers. 1Also,(:‘:cntlcmcn’s V atch-
es, in si ver and go (1 cases, at an rice from
$5 to $-00. We buy of the best liilporters in
New York, and altogether for cash, so that
our facilities for selling cheap could not be
renter. Our stock of Jewelry, Silver and
later. VVzu'cs was never better than at pres-
ent, and comprises all of the latest styles that
are manufactured. A. JACKSON & BRO,
FISH POLES, Traveling Baskets, Clothe
y Baskets, IVork Baskets. Also \Vooden
Ware in. general. at
C. & E. K. LOCKWOOD & CO.
V‘ 700D, all lengths, at s. E. OLMSTEAD
& CO’S Wood Yard, for sale low.
N ORWALK, CONN., TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1862.
VOLUME .XLV--N UMBER 47.
For the Gazette.
From city cares and fashions free,
A gay and joyous life we lead;
We roam the country o’er and o'er,
And treasure up a goodly store
0f nature’s gifts—~30 rare and free—
Sweet emblems of its purity.
The artificial fleeting joys,
The belles, the beauxs, and the “b’hoys,”
The gilded walls and darkened cells,
Where fashion reigns and misery dwells,
The pompous lordly millionaire,
The child of sorrow, frail but fair,
We’ve left behind—alone to dwell
’Mid scenes less fitting heaven than hell.
The gladsome little rivulct,
That sings its merry song so sweet;
The stately oak that towers above,
Yet sends its branches as in love
It would protect the tender vines
Which to its generous trunk inclines;
The rough hewn rocks and lofty hills;
The waterfalls, and gentler rills;
The meadow, and the beauteous lawn,
Bedecked with flowers all nations own ;
The merry warblcrs all so guy,
That sweetly sing their roundela 7,
And make the forest to resound
With happy notes of gladsome sound,
All welcome us with rapturous joy
To pleasures nought can e’er destroy.
As oft, ’midst scenes all wild and rude,
Where nature reigns in solitude,
We seek to while away sweet hours
’Neath shady groves and forest bowers,
We’re lost in rapture and delight,
And dream that all the world is bright.
No more the sorrowing cares of life,
Its sick’ning scenes and bitter strife,
Shall e’er intrude to mar the joy
That nature grants without alloy.
Myrtle He'll, Sept. 3, 1862.
«o
The Fly.
Baby Bye,
Here’s a fly;
Let us watch him, you and I.
How he crawls
Upon the walls—
Yet he never falls!
I believe, with such legs
You and I could walk on eggs!
There he goes
On his toes
Tickling baby’s nose!
¢
Spots of red
Dot his head;
Rainbows on his back are spread.
That small speck
Is his neck,
Sec him nod and heck!
I can show you if you choose,
Where to look to find his shoes;
Three small pairs
Made of hairs;
These he always wears l
Black and brown
Is his gown;
He can wear it upside down.
It is laced
Round his waist;
I admire his taste;
Yet, though tight his clothes are made,
He will lose them, I’m afraid,
' If to night
He gets sight
Of the candle light.
In the sun
Webs are spun;
What if he gets into one?
When it rains
He complains
On the window-panes.
Tongues to talk have you and 1;
God has given the little fly
No such things;
. So he sings
With his buzzing wings.
He can eat
Bread and meat;
There’s his month between his feet.
On his back
Is a Qk
Like a peddlcr‘s 'pack.
Does the baby understand?
Then the fly shall kiss her hand !
Put a crumb
On her thumb,
Maybe he will come!
Theodore Tilton.
—-——*«.>e ~
Sea-Weeds.
The depths of the ocean afford us a home;
We ride to the Shore on the billows’ white
foam;
We float on the wave and we dance in the
spray;
We come with the tide, with its ebb glide
away;
We grow and we cling to the desolate rock;
Nor loosen our hold for the billows’ wild
shock:
Like friends in affliction, the closer we stay,
Though breakers are around us, and tempests
hold sway.
We flourish most bright ’neath
ing wave,
Adorning with beauty each seaman’s lone
grave.
0 mourners of earth! who would
sweet flowers
The graves of your loved ones who rest in
our bowers—
Remember, above them we flourish as fair:
Though hand of afi‘ectiofi ne’er planted us
there; ‘ \
Remember, among us as calmly they sleep,
Down, down, ’ncath the waves of the fathom-
lcss deep,
As tranquil, as safe, ’ueath the ocean’s wild
foam,
As in flower-planted grave near their own na-
tive home;
Most safely among us their dust shall remain
Till the lust trumpct’s sound shall awake
them again.
the deep roll-
deck with
Good Words.
~<.»
A STONE WITH A HEART IN I'L—A
notable instance of patriotism and benev-
olence combined, is related of Amasa
Stone, the great railroad man of Cleve-
land. He was among .those drafted in
Cuyahoga county. and upon learning the
fact be bid $200 for a substitute; shortly
after a man applied for the position, and
Mr. Stone wrote a check for the above
amount. Mr Stone, on making inquiries
regarding the pecuniary affairs of the
man, learned that he was poor, and
had a wife and seven children depending
upon him. He recalled the check for
$200 and wrote one for $2,000, and gave
it to the substitute.
MRS. READ’S MISTAKE.
A DOMESTIC TALE.
Mrs. Herbert Read had two very dis-
agreeable tasks hefore her to perform-—
That was the reason she stood so long ar-
ranging the ribbons of her jaunty lace
cap, and smoothing down the folds of her
rich morning-dress, after the breakfast
bell had rung loudly and lustily. She
dreaded what she felt herself called upon
to say. First she must inform her uncle,
a white—haired old man, who had been in
her house for months, that he must look
somewhere else for a home, as she did not
feel it her duty to take care of him.—--
Secondly, she must say to her son Phil-
lip, that he was greatly demeaning him-
self by paying so much attention to a
mere nobody—a, poor school teacher,
who lived in a bit of a cottage, and sup-
ported a widowed mother with her carn-
iugs. Furthermore, she must say to her
son Phillip, that such a proceeding on
his part was against her expfessed wish-
es, and should be greatly incensed if he
did not pay the strictest attention to
what she had pleased to say on the sub-
ject.
Now this was all very disagreable to
Mrs. Read. Her uncle would no doubt
grow pathetic over what she said. He
would remind her of the time when she
used to sit upon his knee, 9. little orphan
child, with no home but the one he gave
her. He might ask her if this was her
gratitude, and what she hoped in her old
age, if she turned him away in his.
Her son Phillip would no doubt get
very angry. He was proud and high
minded, and would most likely say many
bitter things to her ; perhaps praise his
plebeian divinity in the highest terms, and
end by declaring that he should consult
his own taste in the matter and not hers.
Mrs. Reed’s nerves were very weak,
but she must do her duty. So she Went
down to the breakfast room. Her uncle
and son were there, seated before a cheer-
ing fire. It was certainly a pleasant
picture The sun streamed in at the
windows, and flickered across the nicely
set table. From the massive coffee urn
a delightful aroma was diffused through-
out the room. Mrs. Read glanced around
with a complacent smile playing upon
her hard but finely-cut features. Should
she speak her mind then? No, not un-
til breakfast was over, she thought, while
she. took her place at the head of her to.-
ble. '
“Coming events cast their shadows be-
fore,” is an old saying. For this reason,
perhaps, the sumptuous meal was a silent
one. The blue eyes of the old man, which
had all the summer of life saved in their
kindly depths, were heat steadily upon
his plate. Mrs. Read thought his hand
was more tremulous than usual as he rais-
ed his cofl'ee to his lips. Phillip’s face
-—and a finer one is seldom seen, wore a
grave and perplexed look.
There were several attempts made to
start a little breakfast-table conversation.
Phillip bowed. The old man nodded.—
Mrs. Read remarked that the night be-
fore she had thought that it looked like
a storm
“Indeed l” said Phillip.
An hour later he could have observed
that the signs were not to be wondered
at, for the storm had come
“I don’t think, from present appearan-
ces that the coming winter will be a very
severe one,” said Mrs. Read, in a con-
strained voice.
“Neither do I.” The old man spoke
this time.
Mrs. Read smiled. She was particu-
larly favored by this remark, as it led the
way to the very object she wished to ap-
proach.
“Where do you intend to spend the
winter, uncle?” she asked, as she drew
her knife through the juicy steak upon
her plate.
I Where did he intend to spend the win-
ter ? The question whirled through his
brain like'a bullet ! It was fortunate for
him that- he was Sitting instead of stand-
ing, because for the moment he was strick’
en so senseless—almost helpless. The
massive silver fork dropped from his trem-
bling hand. The blue eyes, so full of
summer, grew dim and misty, as if hazy
autumn was begining to look up from
their depths. Where did heinteud to spend
the winter? This from her he had loved
and cherished through a helpless and
weary orphanhoodl Presently a smile
broke over his face.
“Thank God !” he thought, “I have
lived seventy-five years before seeing such
ingratitude 1”
"What was that you said, mother?”
inquired Phillip, her words having just
broke through the deep study he was in.
“Where is Uncle William going to spend
the winter ? Isn’t the question a strange
. one ?”
The old man raised his eyes to Phillip’s
handsome face. There was a world of
thankfulness in their depths. He tried
to speak, but his lips were dry, and not
igword could he utter.
“Not so very strange,” answered his
mother, blandly. Of course he has some
plan for the future.”
Phillip’s lip curled.
"I had thought so myself,” he replied,
"and had never for a moment dreamed
that his plans could possibly conflict with
yours.”
Mrs. Read smiled. Her features grew
harder than ever. She looked towards
her uncle, and her gaze was sharp and
hard as steel.
“You wish’me to find some other home.
Is that it ?” he asked in a broken voice.
“I had thought that you wished to do
so,” she replied.
“Mother, how can you ?”
Phillip.
“It shall be as you wish,” said the old
man more in sorrow than in anger. “I
shall find shelter somewhere, I know. I
have no fears.”
He arose from the table as he spoke,
and walked slowly out of the room.
“Don’t put yourself to any inconven-
ience Uncle William, because you feel as
though you had ought to leave us,” said
Mrs Read, as he opened the breakfast
room door.
He looked for amoment into her self-
ish face, but his mild blue eyes wasted
their light upon marble. Her features did
not change.
“Don’t worry about me,” he calmly
said; “I shall be well taken care of.—
Good morning.”
He then closed the door and went up
to his own room.
“What does this mean, mother?” in-
quired Phillip pushing back his plate and
rising very hastily from the table.
“It means that I cannot be burdened
with the old man any longer, and nothing
more.”
“I hope not; I should think it was
enough! I trust your conscience is at
ease.”
“Perfectly, my son. Sit down, if you
please. I have something to say to you.
Will you tell me where you spend your
evenings of late f”
Phillip changed color. He did not ex-
pect this. The subject was a tender one.
He beat his eyes to the carpet for a mo-
ment, and then raised them to his mother’s
face. _
“I was twenty one years old more than
three years since, if I remember right.”
“I am aware of that fact, although I
should not have known it from your ac-
tions. You conduct yourself more like a
youth of eighteen .”
The young gentleman bowed his head
and hit his lips.
“You are very complimentary,” he said,
“and certainly take a very indiscreet
method to exert any influence over me.”
“I wished to speak plainly to you, as a
mother should speak to her son. I have
your highest good at heart, and shall ex-
pect you to abide by my counselings a.
while longer."
"That depends on the nature of them,
and what you require. Well, what are
they ?”
"But my first question remains unan-
swered. Where do you spend your eve-'
nings ?”
In a place that is both interesting, pleas-
ant and respectable.”
“To you, perhaps.”
' “Yes, to me—to every one.
not a person living—”
“Be quiet, Phillip,” Mrs Read broke
in, holding her hand to her head, nerv-
ously. There is no use getting boister-
ous. It can be all summed up in a few-
simple words. You are forgetting your-
self and your statiou by keeping company
beneath you. I do not say but that this
pale-faced beauty who has won your boy-
ish fancy is well enough, I do not dOubt
that she is, but you wrong both yourself
and her when you treat her as such.—
This intimacy must never result in any-
thing serious—she is too poor for that;
so I desire that it be broken off. You
understand me.”
“If it is a boyish fancy, it will die off
itself. I think we can both afford to wait.
As to my safety which you say is so much
threatened, I am in no way uneasy about
it.”
“There is no use parleyiug, Phillip. I
am your mother, remember l Shall it be
as I wish ?”
“I will act honorably. That’s all I
can promise you. A son’s honor should
lie very near a mother’s heart.”
Mrs Reads eyes flashed for the first
time. 4
“I never allow any one to trifle with
me.” She said loudly.
“Neither do I. Will you be so kind
as to look to Uncle William; he may
need your assistance. It is time I was
down town. Good morning. I shall
dine at the hotel to-day.”
Mrs Read made an ineffectual attempt
to speak again, but Phillip very uncerc.
mouiously closed the door, and passed up
stairs to his uncle’s room for a few min-
utes, and subsequently entered the street.
For a whole hour the anxious mother
walked up and down the breakfast room,
thinking of her uudutiful son, and trying
to devise a plan by which she could bend
his “stubborn will.” None occurred to
her, however, and consequently she grew
more flurried and troubled, until at last
she was in a perfect fever of excitement.
A servant came into the room and cleared
away the table, but she did not notice it.
Another came and replenished the fire.
Again the door Opened, and this time her
uncle made his appearance, ready for
starting.
Her eyes brightened.
“Are you going. to leave so soon?” she
asked. _
“Yes, I’m going to 0— street, to
spend a few weeks with an old school
mate.”
exclaimed
There’s
“0n 0—- streetl” repeated Mrs:
Read. “Let me see!
friend's name?”
“Mrs. Holmer.” ,
“Has she a. daughter Lizzy?”
“Yes.” .
“What in the world put it into your
old head to go there?” exclaimed Mrs.
Read, quite forgetting herself. “I’m
sure you are welcome to remain here as
long as you please, instead of going to
that place. Does Phillip know anything
about it?” ,
“Oh, yes, he proposed it to me. It is
a very comfortable place. Call round
and see me.”
“No, not- there. But haven’t you been
somewhat too hasty about this? Would
it not be better for you to remain with
me?”
“No, no! Besides, I have an idea of
making Lizzie my heiress.”
“Your heiress!” said she. ' “I congratu-
late her! You are inclined to be face-
tious.” .
“Do you think so? * Perhaps I am an
old fool! Good morning, andmuch joy
to you.” -
“Good morning."
Thus they parted. The old man went
to the carriage Phillip had seat, while
his neice resumed her troubled walk up
and down the breakfast room, her face as
gloomy and lowering as a November
morning.
* * =l< * a: - a:
A week had passed, and a bright and
cheery morning is. ushered in. Mrs. Read
sat alone in her boudoir, her feelings
quite out of keeping with the cheery
splendor around her. She could find no
pleasure in anything she heard or saw,
so strong and deep was her anxiety for
her son Phillip.
As she sat thus, looking steadily into
the glowing fire, there was a hard ring at
the street door, followed by a rustling
sound of silks along the hall.
At the same moment that her door
was thrown open, a voice began—“How
are you, Mrs. Read? I thought I would
call round and see you. How pale you
are looking.”
“Why, Mrs. Wells, how are you? I
am positively delighted to see you,” said
Mrs. Read, extending her hand to the
bustling little woman.
“Thank you,” returned Mrs. Wells,
“But have you heard the gossip? I sup-
What is your
pose not, for it is just out.”
“Gossip!” repeated Mrs. Read, won-
deringly.
“Nothing very straight out of it.—
Aune Wise told me about half an hour
ago. Well, to begin with, there is a
wedding on a most magnificent scale, at
our church, at precisely four. o’clock this
afternoon.”
“Indeed!
parties?”
“Nothing l and that is the mystery of
it. It seems that a rich old gray-beard has
made some poor but exceedingly beautiful
girl his heiress, and she is about to marry
into one of our bestfamilies. They say the
young gentleman’s family almost idolize
her, and are besides themselves with joy.
I suppose the old gentleman is some rich-
East Indian, who has discovered some
poor relative; so it will be a. grand afiair
Won’t you dress and drive round to the
church with mé? I forgot to say, the old
gentleman has fitted up a magnificent mau-
tion for the couple on T—-— street, and
there is to be a grand wedding supper
there this evening.” '
About three o’clock Mrs. Read was
ready to accompany her friend, and they
proceeded to church for fear that they
might not be in time for a good seat.
“Is it not queer there are no names
out?” asked Mrs. Wells, as they seated
themselves in the carriage.
“So funny that I don’t know what to
make of it” said Mrs. Read.
“The old gentleman, they say, is very
rich, and eccentric in his ways,” said Mrs.
Wells.
“Indeed!” was the faint reply.
“Do see the throng of people around
the church? How it has been poised
about! I dont care, I insist on occupy-
ing my own pew, at any rate—if I have
to turn the Governor out of it. I’m sure
we shall see the most magnificent bride
of the season, if half of what is said of
her is true. It lacks half an hour of
the time, yet see the crowd .”
The carriage had crowded its way to
the church door, and the two ladies were
let down.
“Follow me—II will make my way
through the crowd,” said Mrs. Well’s,
elbowing her way along. “I shall cer-
tainly find the way to my own pew in
spite of everything. Isn’t this really de-
lightful ?”
Mrs. Read thought it anything else;
but she was to polite to disagree with her
friend, so she forced a smile, as she hold
fast to her bonnet string, saying, “Very
delightful, indeed!" ‘
The pew was reached at last, thanks
to Mrs. Well’s indomitable perseverance,
and two or three misses were very uncere-
moniously elbowed out of it. Soon the
crowd grew still and expectant. Mrs.
Read could almost hear her own heart
beat. The half hour was almost gone.
Would the wedding party ever come?
What made hei- tremble so? She was
thinking alter son Philip—poor anxious
mother. She wondered'if he was there.
She looked around hflwas no where to be
seen. If he was in any part of the church
Do you know who are the
{she felt ours that she could see him.
There was a heavy rumbling of carri-
ages outside the church, a pause at the
door, a stifled whispering rippled through
the crowd, and the solemn tones of the
organ broke out upon tho air in a grand
anthem. _ j A
Mrs. Read kept her gsze'fixed on the
broad aisle. The party walked slowly to
the altar. Of asudden Mrs. Wells felt
the grasp. of her friend fixed firmly on her
arm ; but she could not take her eyes
from the bride to learn what was her
great trouble. — .
“My son Phillip ! Oh, what a terri-
ble mistake l” gasped Mrs. Read, sink-
ing back into her seat, and clasping her
hands to her eyes.
“Gracious goodness l” exclaimed Mrs.
Wells ; "is not this really splendid ? Your
son ! And as I live, it is your uncle who
is giving away the bride l .011 do not
faint, at this time. Look 1 What a
magnificent veil she wears I Do look—
just for a moment ! Is she not a bean-
tiful creature l—and so graceful i What
u. fortunate woman you are l 0h, do not
faint now! Oh, what a romance I am
in 1 And you knew nothing of it 5 Mrs.
Read. -'
The bridal party turned away from the
altar; and the deep organ, as though a
pulse of joy was beating in its great heart,
gave out pea! after pea! of grand and do.
licious harmony. It fell upon the ears of
Mrs. Read like a dirge. She had made
a great mistake. She had turned a mil-
lionaire from her door! She had played
her deceitful game and lost l
. . ,
E“ A correspondent of the New York
Tribune gives an account of a recent ex-
pedition from Port Royal to the coast of
Georgia and Florida. The steamer Dar-
liugton was sent to Fernandina to obtain
recruits for the regiment of negro volun-
teers, and to reconnoitre along the coast.
At St. Simons’ Island, the boat took on
board sixty-two male contrabands, a part
of whom had been somewhat instructed
in military drill. Proceeding to Forwa-
~dina, a meeting of negroes was called to
encourage enlistments. Over one bun.
dred men offered their services at once.
But the commander of the post, having
great need of laborers, consented to spare
only twenty-five. Those who were re-
strained from going manifested no slight
disappointment when informed that they
could not share in the dangers of the
coming expedition. Quite a number
claudcstinely stole on board the boat,
concealing themselves till the steamer
was under weigh.
After destroying several salt works in
Florida, the boat proceeded to the Sapelo
River, Georgia. During the expedition,
the negroes passed through two skirm-
ishes and behaved with fortitude in each
instance. Capt. Budd pays the follow-
ing tribute to the bravery of the blacks:
UNITED STATES STEAMER Porousxx, }
Sapelo River, Ga., Nov. 7, 1862.
SIR :-—-It gives me pleasure to testify
to the admirable conduct of the negro
troops, (let S. C. Volunteers,) under the
command of Lieut. Col. Beard, 48th N.
Y. Volunteers, during this day’s opera-
tions. They behaved splendidly under
the warm and galliug fire we were exposed
to, in the two skirmishes with the enemy.
I did not see a man flinch, contrary to
my expectations.
One of them particularly came under
my notice, who, although badly wounded
in the face, continued to load and fire, in
the coolest manner imaginable.
Every one of them acted like veterans.
Very respectfully,
WILLIAM BUDD,
Acting Lieut.-Com’d’g Potomska.
To the Rev. M. FRENCH,Chaplaln, USA.
«9»
Farewell of the General of the
Mackerel Brigade.
Orpheus C. Kerr thus writes to the
Sunday Mercury :
But the whole body of the Mackerels,
sane and insane alike, unite in a feeling of
strong anguish blended with enthusiasm,
at the removal of the beloved General of
the Mackerel Brigade. He has been so
much a Fathcr to them all, that they
never expected to get a step farther while
he was with them. .
There’s a piece of domestic philosophy.
for you, my boy.
When the General heard of his remo-
val, my boy, he said that it was like di-
vorcing a husband from a wife who had
always supported him, and immediately
let fly the following
FAREWELL ADDRESS.
HEADQUARTERS or run Ann or Acconsc,
Four or run BLUE RIDGE,
My Children : An order from the Hon
est Abe divorces us, and gives the com-
mand of all these attached beings to M9.-
jor-General Wobert Wobinson. (Heart-
reuding and enthusiastic cheers.)
In parting with you, I cannot express
how much I love your dear bosoms. As
an army, you have grown from youth to
old age under my care. In you I have
never found doubt nor coldness, nor any-
thing else. The victories you have won
under my command will live in the ~ na-
tion’s works of fiction. The strategy we
have achieved, the graves of many unripe
abled by the Emancipation proclamation
——the strongest associations that can ex-
ist among meat—still makes it advisable
that you should vote for me as President
of the United States in 1865. Thus we
shall ever be comrades in‘ supporting the
Constitution and making the Constitution
support us.
Tn Gama or no: woman. Barons.
! [Green sot]
Msckerels, the broken forms of those dis-_
Napoleon’s Last Military
Project.
In the concluding volume of his “His-z
tory of the Consulate and the Empire,”-
M. Thiers gives the following account of
the last military project of Napoleon,
from Paris, and was awaiting the means
of escaping to America:—
“Napoleougwas almost alone at Mal-
maison, except MM. 'de Bassano, Lava-
lette, de Rovigo, Bertrand, who scarcely
ever went out. Except his brothers and
mother and Queen Hortense, the only
visitors seen there were officers escaped
from the army, who came with the dust
of the battle-field, to inform Napoleon of
the march of the enemy, and to entreat
him to place himself once more at their
head. He heard them quietly, calmed
their excitement, thanked them, and pref-
ited by their information. Without
knowing precisely the position of the al-
lies, he concluded from these difibrent re-
ports that, according to his wont, the
impetuous Blucber had got the start of
the discreet Wellington, and was at least
two days’ march distant from the Eag-
lish. Suddenly, with the ordinary promp-
titude of his military observation, be per-
ceived that it was possible to surprise
the allies apart from each other, and by
a lucky chance find under the walls of
Paris the opportunity which he had vainly
sought at Waterloo, of defeating them
separately, and thus reestablish the for-
tune of the French arms. In efi‘eCt, at
least 60,000 men were returning from
Soissons; there were 10,000 in Paris,
and 70,000 combatants were more than
were needed to overwhelm Blueber, who
could not bring into the field over 60,000;
and, Blucher put out of the way, there
was a chance of subjecting the Duke of
Wellington to similar disaster. Who
could tell what ardor such a triumph
would provoke on the part of the nation?
Napoleon, giving the rein to his. last
dream of happiness, imagined that it
would be glorious to render such a ser-
vice to France, without wishing to profit
by it himself, and to return to the path
of exile after having made possible a fa-
vorable treaty of peace. To save, per-
haps, the crown to his son, was all that
he expected from this, last feat of his
arms.
“He ruminated this great 'project dur-
ing the night of the 28th (for it was not
till that evening that he obtained the in-
formation on which he founded his new
combination,) and was interrupted by
the arrival of M. Decrcs and M. Bou-
long de la Meurche, who came at mid-
night to inform him of the intentions of
the Executive Commission relative to his
departure. He received them immedi-
ately, and on the delivery of the order
requiring the captains of the two frigates
to weight anchor without waiting for safe
conducts, he declared he was ready to
start out, but that he desired to send a
message to the Executive Commission.—
He then dismissed, with an oppressed
breast, these two old servants, whom he
was to behold no more. '
“On the 29th, at dawn, he ordered his,
horses to be saddled, put on his uniform,
sent for General Beker, and with a singu-
lar animation which had npt been re-
marked in him since the 18th'of June, he
explained his purpose. ‘The enemy,’ he
said, 'has committed a great fault, which,
indeed, was to have been expected with
the character of .the two allied generals.
They have advanced in two masses of
sixty thousand men each, and have left
between them a distance so great that
one may be destroyed before the other
can come up. Here is an unique oppor-
tunity which Providence has furnished as.
We should be very guilty or very insane
not to profit by it. Accordingly, I offer
to put myself again at the head of the
army, which, at my appearance, will re-
gain all its zeal, to fall desperately upon
the enemy, and after having punished
him for his temerity, to restore the com-
mand to the Provisional Government.—
I pledge my word as a general, a soldier,
a citizen, not to retain the command an
hour beyond the certain and splendid
victory which I promise to bring back,
not for myself, but for France.’
“This proposition was, of course, re-
jected by Fouche and his colleagues in
the Executive Commission, but when
General Beker returned to Malmaison he
found Napoleon still in uniform, and with
his aides-de-camp already to mount and
set forth. Not surprised, but afilicted,
and for a moment angry at the rejection
of what he believed to be a last oppor-
tunity of crushing the allies, he at once
completed his preparations for leaving
France.”
Once more we quote M. Thiersz—
' “The companions of his exile were
chosen. They were Gen. Bertrand, the
Duke of Rovigo, and Gen. Gourgaud.—
Droust should have been of the number,
but he had been judged to be alone ca-
pable of commanding the Imperial Guard
after Napoleon’s departure, and he had
been obliged to accept that command.—
Napoleon himself had required him to do
so. He regretted Droust, he said, as the
noblest heart and the best mind that he.
had known. But he did not despair of
seeing him in America, as well as Count
Lavallcte and some others on whom be
counted. His mother, his brothers, Queen
Hortense, were also to rejoin him there.
All his preparations being finished, be de-
who, after his abdication, had retired:
termiued' vogue in the end of the day.
. He had given but little thought to pecu-
"Diary, resources, and had' confided to M.
Lafitte four millions in gold, which had
been found by accident in an army wagon.
,Queep Hortense. bosought him to accept
a diamond necklace, in order that ,bo
might always have at hand a resource
. easy both to conceal and to dispose of.—
He refused at first, but when she insisted,
weeping, be permitted her to place the
diamonds in his clothes, then embracing
his mother, his brothers, Queen Hortense,
his generals, he entered the carriage at
5 o’clock, (Jane 29, 1815,) while every
one, even the soldiers on guard, broke
into tears. He Went by way of Ram.
bouillet, avoiding Paris, which he was
not to enter again until twenty-five years
afterward, in a. funeral car, brought back
dead to the Invalids by a king of the
house of Oileans, Who himself is no longer
at the Tuillerics at the moment when I
finish this history, so rapidly do the in-
habitants of that redoubtable palace
succeed each other in this tempestuous
century.”
‘ ——'-*~O>~¢———
. A Christian Patriot.
The following notes were written in
pencil by Samuel F. Willard of Madison,
Conn, Captain in the 14th Connecticut
Regiment. They were addressed to his
wife, and within an hour after the last
record, which was found on his person,
was made, he had fallen on the battle-
field. On Sunday morning, Sept. 14,
he wrote: “To-de we started on our
long march on hard bread and cofl'ee
alone; marched till four o’clock. We
are now in line of battle in the Middle-
town Valley—right in sight there is an
artillery engagement—nothing very se-
rious.”
' Mound Home, l
MIDDLsrown anx Sept. 15, 1869.
These maybe the last words; if so,
they are these :—
I have full faith in Jesus Christ my
Saviour ; I do not regret that I have full-
en in defense of my country ; I have lov-
ed you truly and know that you have 10v.
ed me and in leaving this world of sin I
go to another and better one, whoreI am
confident I shall meet you. I freely for-
give all my enemies, and ask them for
Christ’s to forgive me. If my body should
ever reach home, let there be no ceremo-
Dy ; I ask no higher honor than to die
for my country—lay me silently in the
grave, imitate my virtues, and forgive all
my errors.
I prefer death in the cause of my coun-
try, to live in sympathy with its enemies.
And now, my precious wife, good bye.
May the grace of God sustain you, and
we will meet at last in heaven.
Signed in- the valley on the battle
ground near Bolivar Heights, Md.
SAMUEL FRANCIS WILLARD.
TUESDAY Momma, Sept. 16, 1862.
The Division moved yesterday at about
10 A. M., passed through the region of
the battle on the previous day—dead reb-
els on every side. Our surgeons admin-
istered to the wants of many of the wound-
ed rebels,. Saw hundreds of wounded
rebels as we passed through different vil-
lages, in barns, houses, hospitals. It was
a very sorry sight for our boys—rebels
were strongly entrenched on the mountain
and held a good position, but fled as the
army approached. Generals McClellan
and Burnside passed in front of the army
—immeuse cheering. Rebel prisoners
being brought in all the time, poorly
dressed but fine-looking fellowss—act as
though they were glad to be taken in.
TUESDAY MORNING-later.
The battle has commenced, one man
killed within 20 rods of me by a shell.—
My faith is in God ; if I die, I die in the
faith of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,
who died that I might live. We are now
to go into battle. God save my men,
God save me, God save the United States
of America, God bless you my own dear
wife, and may we meet at last in heaven
where there will be no war or sin.
CAMP NEAR Parnnsmmr, Md,
Wednesday morning, 17th.
We are on the eve of a great battle.—
Yesterday, there was an artillery engage-
ment close by us, and we were dodging
shells and balls for about three hours.—
One man was killed within l5'or 20 rods
of me. Several others were wounded.—
We have an immense army here—Mc-
Clellan and Burnside are here in com-
mand—I cannot say more—we are or-
dered off with 80 rounds of cartridges-—
cannon are booming on every side—my
faith is in God.
I passed the battle ground Monday,
saw the dead and dying on every side ; I
pray God we may be successful and that
you may see me again.—
And just there the pencil notes close
suddenly. An hour later he lay dead on
the field of victory, and this pencil story
remains to tell how he died.
a.»
16" A London correspondent of the
Boston Commercial Bulletin writes:—
“It is well you are just completing-a fleet
of ‘Mouitors.’ You are likely to need
them before long. Workman are en-V
gaged night and day on the Mersey, on
the Clyde, and elsewhere, in building
some twenty iron clads, which are to see
service in American waters. They are
intended to convoy vessels into Southern
ports. This I know to be a fact. My
information is direct from those in confi-
dence with the promoters. I can only
see one way of preventing a good deal of
mischief. Every port for which they are
designed ought to be in the power of tho
American Government before these ugly
monsters can cross the Atlantic Then
you might welcome them as effective aids
in future operations. To disarm suspi-
cion it is popularly given out that this
iron fleet is being built for the Chinese
Government; but I need hardly tell you
that Mr. Mason and his friends form one
of the chief contracting parties.”
W
-——— The New Orleans papers are pub-
lishing the losses of the Louisiana troops,
at the battle of Antietam. Five Louisl~
ana regiments, comprising in all 600 men,
lost 323 in the action, of whom 45 won
killed, and 278 wounded.
Norwalk Chronicler