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For the Bradford Reporter.
ABACO.*
lIY PAUL PEMBERTON, JR.
{;,mtifnlAbaco! Isle of the sea!
j r this grateful heart turns back to thee,
F r -t welcome land that my eyes came to see,
\t>er a rough voyage on ocean's wave,
! for long weeks where the elements rave,
v;! threatened me oft with a watery grave.
I ;t rnv North-land all covered with rime,
Abaco found in a soft, balmy clime,
\ nnding with cocoa, banana and lime.
i a- ucath the trees, on the grass that is there,
bid felt the light breezes toy with my hair,
b ,oft as Nannetta with fingers so fair.
i watched the blue sea with its freightage of ships,
Which were casting about like diminutive chips—
r ing down in the waves, as the swimming bird dips.
Then came the sun-set, cloudless and red ;
The orb of day sank in a watery bed,
And in his course round to the orient sped.
I'im grew the waves on the fathomless sea,
L ft was the world to darkness and me—
And I fell asleep to dream, Love, of thee!
Abaco! Beautiful isle of the sea!
First welcome land that my eves came to see,
vr this grateful heart turns back to thee.
'Abaco is the most northerly of the Bahama
Islands, and is usually the first land seen in a voy
v from New-York to the West Indies.
afttoU&ntflu*.
''CAN'T AFFORD IT."
A Sketch for Every-day Life-
BY SYLVANCK COBB, JB.
" Can't afford it, Maria."
" But you might if you would only think
so, Walter," plead the young wife.
" 1 can't do it," the husband returned,
very emphatically. "It would cost two or 1
three dollars, at the very lowest, to put up
:cii a gate, and the old bars will answer i
very purpose."
Xo, they won't, Walter. The neigh
rs' children very often leave the bars
: an and then stray cattle come into the
. a leu. We may lose more than the price
: a gate in one hour, if a cow should hap
;<n tn get in when I am away."
" 1 should like to know who leaves the
ins drnvn," said Walter, very threatingly. j
IV same children might leave a gate ,
pen."
" But we can have a gate made to close
t its own accord,with a weight, or spring," '
•uggested the wife. "John Niles has had
a gate put up in his yard."
" But I ain't John Niles, my dear," Wal
ler wished his wife to remember.
" But his iarnily is as large as yours, and
uis wages are not so high."
• Never mind about that. I tell you I
aift afford it—at any rate, not at present."
-Vml with this Walter started off for work.
Walter Gray was a young man, about
irty ; an industrious mechanic ; had been
orried some eight years ; and had an in
estiiig family. He meaut to provide well
• those who depended upon him, and in a
• usure he did so. But there were many
ttic comforts of which at times they real
| y needed, arid which in the end, might
proved a source of saviug. And more
; it might have added to his own hap
piiess had lie felt able to grant these little
" fiests. But he couldn't afford it—at
'*t, -) he thought ; and whether he tho't
• with sound judgment the sequel will
show.
hie gate which his wife had been so aux
tn have put up was needed at the en- j
ranee to the garden back of the house, !
ii there was only a pair of short bars.
: hildreu often came through there, and i
' the way open behind them. In short, |
ft' were many ways in which those bars
"fe apt to be left down, and Maria Gray j
• very often to leave her work to drive
rattle that got in. It was only by ex-1
:i * watchfulness ou her part that the
- if.ten was preserved. She had spoken
'I times to her husband about it, but
't he couldn't afford it. She must keep
■ eves upon the spot, and see that the
were kept shut.
IJ "'y a few days after this Mrs. Gray
v ; ! 'im if he was goiug to hire a pew in
hurcli for the following year, and he
" ner that he did not think he should.
you can hire half of one. We can
"'half of Mr. Niles's pew for five dol
. ' '-au't afford it," was Walter's reply.
' sij ould get no good Irom the meetings,
") way."
, J'" n 't say so, husband Suppose every
t should feel like that. You certainly
;• a't wish to live, and bring up your
-on. where there was no religious in-
And if you reap the benefits of
christian institution, you certainly
- to feel willing to help support them."
. w "uld be willing, if I could afford
' ; Jut 1 can't."
~r:iy looked very serious, aud
5 .7- to hesitate, as though there were a
V," , U P' JII her mind, which she felt deli
>ui' Ut broaching ; but it had occupied
'oughts too long, aud she determined
,! tl .>t out.
: ut r ii' ter H ' ie Ba id a little tremulously,
Week " reßolutel y "you have ten dollars a
" fvs."
f^lt d ? .! 10W muoh of that does it take to
it t 'il k' 10w , I'm sure. I only know
it all to feed and clothe us and
E. O. GOODRICH, Publisher.
VOLUME XXVI.
pay up the interest on the house."
" I haven't had a new dress since last
Fall ; and 1 was reckoning up yesterday
how much we had spent for the children,
and I found it to be only fifteen dollars for
the last ten months. 1 have worked over
some clothes for Charles,and Luciuda jumps
into Mary's dresses as the latter outgrows
them."
" That's all very well," replied Walter, a
little testily. " I understand my own busi
ness, and I know just what Icau afford,and
what I can't. While 1 have the payments
to make on my house I must economize—/
must economize" he repeated, very decided
ly-
" And I ould have you economize," re
turned the wife ; hut do not forget that all
is not economy which many call so. 1
think that to hire half of John N ilea's pew
would be a great source of economy in com
fort and lasting good. It would be five
dollars laid out to good advantage—sure
to return a heavy interest to us and our
children. And I think it might be a source
of great saving to put a good gate up at
the back—"
" Stop !" interupted Walter, with a ner
vous motion. "You've said enough about
this. I kuow my means."
" Let me say one word," urged Maria.—
There was an earnestness in her tone which
caused her husband to stop and listen. "If
you will give me five dollars a week 1 will
agree to furnish all the provisions for the
household, and clothe myself and children.
I will do this for one year. That will leave
you three hundred and sixty dollars with
which to clothe yourself and make your pay
ment on the house. On the house you have
only to pay a hundred dollars, with interest
for two.years, which will leave you a hun
dred and forty-eight dollars for your clothes
and— other exjjenses."
Walter was upon the point of denying
this result of the case, but he saw. upon a
moment's reflection, that, from his wife's
statement, the deduction was correct, so he
denied the statement.
" You cannot furnish the food, and clothe
yourself and children for the sum you have
named," he said.
Thereupon Maria sat down and made
known a few facts to him that hud been hid
den within the mysteries of her own house
keeping. She was not long in proving to
him that, during the past year, the items of
expenditure within said limits nad not aver
aged five dollars per week. Walter said
"Pooh !" and then he added—"Nonsense 1"
and then he left the house.
" There must be some mistake." he said
to himself, after he had got away from the
house ; and he really believed there was a
mistake.
"Have a glass of soda, Bill? Come Tom
—have a glass ?"
"Don't care if I do," said Tom and Bill.
" Have some, Ned ?"
And Ned said yes. So the clerk prepar
ed four glasses of soda, for which Walter
Gray paid twenty-five cents.
" Let's have a game of 'seven up' for the
oysters," said Bill after the day's work was
done.
The game was played, and Walter lost,
so he paid a dollar for four oyster supper—
suppers which none of them needed, and
which did them more hurt than good.
" Have a cigar, Walter?" asked Tom.
Walter said yes ; and in return he paid
for four glasses of ale.
One evening they met, after work, and
Ned proposed that they should "toss up" to
see who should pay for the chowder.
"Come, John—wou't you come in 1" he
said, addressing John Niles, who stood by.
"No—guess not," was John's reply.
"You'd better. It's only for the chowder
—for five, if you come in."
" 1 can't."
" It's no use to ask him," spoke Walter,
in a rather sarcastic tone. "He don't spend
his money in that way."
John's face flushed and his Hps trembled;
but he restrained the biting words which
were struggling upon his tongue, and turn
ed aud left the shop.
" He's a mean fellow," cried Tom, loud
enough for Niles to hear.
" Tight as the bark of a tree," added
Walter, in a tone equally ioud.
John Niles heard the remarks but lie did
not come back.
The four remaining men "tossed up," and
tho lot fell upon Walter and Tom. Then
they "tossed it off," and it fell upon Wal
ter,who paid four shillings for the chowder.
Walter started home about nine o'clock,
and was overtaken by Niles.
" Walter," said the latter, in a kind, but
earnest tone, "I want to speak with you.—
You have wronged me this evening. I wish
you to understand me. For the opinions of
Bill Smith and Ned Francis I care not, but
I do not wish you to misapprehend me. We
live too near together, and I would not lose
your good opinion."
" Well-—go ahead," returned Walter,who
sensible of the tfcet that his companion was
one of the best and kindest neighbors in the
world.
" Y"ou said I was mean."
" No, no—'twas not I who said that."
" Well—you said that I was 'tight as the
bark of a tree.' "
Walter could not deny this, so John pro
ceeded, —
" I refused to join in your little game for
three reasons, either one of which should
have been sufficient to deter me. First : I
have resolved not to engage in any such
games of hazard. Second : I did not want
any chowder. And third: I could not have
afforded to pay for five extra suppers, if the
lot had fallen upon me."
" Couldn't afford it?" repeated Walter,
with a slight tinge of unbelief in his tone.
" No," returned the other. " I could not.
I used to be on hand for any such game,
and I thought 'twould be mean to refuse,but
1 have learned better. Let me tell yon how
I first came to see the folly of being afraid
to spend money for nothing. Shall I tell
you ?"
"Certainly," returned Walter, who al
ready began to see something.
" Well," pursued Niles, "one noou, as I
was going away from home, my wife asked
me for a dollar. She wanted it to bay some
cloth with. I nsked her if she could not
get along without it. I had only three dol
lars with me, and I hated to let one of them
go. She said she really needed the cloth,
but if I hadn't got the money to spare she
could wait. I knew she was disappointed,
but 1 thought she could get along, and I
went away. That evening I went into ttye
TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., NOVEMBER 2, 18(55.
saloon, and we had a fine social time. It
cost me just one dollar and a haif. 1 paid
the money willingly—without even a tho't
of objection—and then I went home. When
I went home I heard my wife trying to pac
ify our oldest child. The little thing had
expected a new dress,which had been prom
ised her, and she l'elt badly because she
had not got it.
" Wait," urged my wife, as the child sob
bed in her disappointment. " Papa hasn't
got the money now ; but he'll have some
by-aud-by, and then you shall have a pret
ty dress. 'Poor Papa lias to work hard.'
" The words smote me to the heart. I
could not afford a dollar to dress mv little
child, but 1 could afford any amount for the
useless entertainment of others ! The dol
lar which my needy wife could not get,
when she asked for it, 1 paid away almost
twice told for nothing. Put it'learned me
a lesson. I opened my eyes, and kept diem
open. On the very next morning 1 afford
ed the dollar, but I could not afford any
more for the beer man. 1 had not dreamed
how much 1 was wasting, hut when I stop
ped up that leak, and allowed my funds to
How into their proper channel, I soon found
that I could afford every reasonable com
fort my wife and children needed. So I
stick to the principle which has proved so
beneficial to myself and family. Ah—
what's that? There's an animal in your 1
garden, Walter."
They had reached the garden fence, and,
by the dim starlight, Walter could see a
horned beast trampling amongst his sweet
corn. The bars had been either left down,
or hooked down, and a stray cow got in.—
►They drove her out and then Niles went
home. Walter btivv that the ljihibt hiiil duiio j
considerable damage,but he was not angry,
for he hatj something of more importance !
to think of. He went and sat down beneath
an apple tree, and pondered.
" Bless me, if he hasn't put the case down
about square 1" lie said to himself, at the
end of some minutes of meditation. "Let
me see," he pursued : —"There's sixty-sev
en cents for chowder—fifty cents for ale—
fifty cents for soda. And that's within the
lust three days. A dollar and sixty-seven
cents. Is it possible ! Over a hundred dol
lars a year ! And y'et I can't afford two j
dollars for a gate, nor five dollars that my j
family may have religious instruction for a
year Walter Gray— l think you had better
turn over a new leaf."
And Walter Gray did turn over a new
leaf. On the very next day he did two
things thereby astonishing two parties. He
had a new gate made for the entrance to
the garden,and thereby astonished his wife;
and lie refused to "toss up'' for the ale, and
thereby astonished a crowd of expectant
thirsty ones. For a month he pursued this
course, and by the expiration of that time
he could fully appreciate the new blessings
that were dawning upon him. He discover
ed that he could afford everything which
the comfort of his family demanded ; and
in arriving at this result he had only to cut
loose those things which he really could
not afford. It was a wonder to him how
he could have been so foolish. When at
the end of the year, he had paid his note,
and had ninety-two dollars left, he felt at
first as though there must be some mistake;
but when his wife went over their house
hold expenditures with him, and showed
liini that all ■ they had needed had been
bought and paid for, he saw just how it
was. He saw that for years he had been
wasting his substance, and depriving him
self and loved ones of the comforts they
needed—not intentionally, but through the
strange mistakes that leads thouands in
the same course. But he did so no more.
Some times, even now, Walter Gray says
—"Can't afford if ," and he says it very em
phatically, too. But it is not when his wife
or children ask for comfort or joy, nor yet
when the needy poor ask for help and chari
ty —for he can well afford all that ; but it
is when the wild speculation, or the loose
companion, asks him to engage in some
game of hazard which may rob himself and
family of their substance. Then he says—
and ho repeats it if need be— "CAN'T AFFORD IT!"
IN A FOG.— A few years ago, there lived
in the town of , a son of Judge B,
whom we will call Joe, who frequently im
bibed more than he could comfortably car
ry. There also resided in the neighborhood
a planter named W., who kept a saloon.—
Now W. was a great practical joker. On
one occasion, Joe came into W.'s saloon,and
rather early in the morning got very much
intoxicated, and finally fell asleep in his
chair. Joe was very near sighted, and
always wore specs. After he had slept
some time, W. took off his specs, blackened
tho glasses, put them back again, lighted
the lamps, and then awoke Joe, telling him
it was about 12 o'clock at night and he
wanted to shut up. Joe started, and re
marked that he slept some time. W. then
said :
" Joe, it is very dark, and if you will
bring it back again, I will lend you a lan
tern."
W. lighted a lantern, gave it to Joe, and
helped him up stairs. Joe went off home
(up the main business street,) in the mid
dle of the day, with his lantern, everbody
looking at him, and wandering what was
the matter.
To REVIVE FADED BRACK CI.OTH.— BoiI two
or three ounces of logwood in vinegar, and
when the color is extracted drop in a piece
of carbonate of iron, which is of the same
nature as rust of iron, as large as a chest
nut, and let it boil. Have the coat or pan
taloons well spoDged with soap and hot
water, laying them on a table and brushing
the nap down with a sponge.
Then take the dye on the table aud sponge
them all over with dye, taking care to keep
| them smooth and brushing downwards.—
When completely wet with dye, dissolve a
teaspooufull of saleratus in wafrn water,
and sponge all over with this, and it sets
the color so completely that nothing rubs
off. They must not be rung or wrinkled
but carefully hung up to drain. The brown
est clotli may be made a perfect black in
this simple manner.
JUDGE a man by his actions ; a poet by
his eye ; a lawyer by his leer ; a player by
his strut ; an Irishman by his swagger ;
an Englishman by his rotundity ; a Scotch
man by his shrug ; a justice by his frown ;
a great man by his modesty: a tailor by
his agility ; and a woman by her neatness.
It matters not what a man loses, if he
saves his soul ; but if he lose his soul, it
matters not what he saves,
REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER.
THE WIDOW AND THE POKER-
Mr. William Woodhouse was naturally a
very timid man. Not that he was lacking
in moral or physical courage, hut that he
was afraid of the women. On all other oc
casions he was usually equal to the emer
gency, he it whatever it might ; but place
him tete-a-tete with a woman, and, to Use a
vulgar, but expressive phrase, he was done
for.
llis mother had long ago settled down to
the uncomfortable conviction that William
would never marry and the girls had ar
rived at the same conclusion ; it had be
come quite the thing to say, in making
comparison, "As great a fool as Will
Woodhouse."
For—take note, bashful gentlemen—how
ever much ladies may admire modesty in
the other sex, they invariably despise a
man who lias not heart enough to say to
the girl of bis choice, " I love you."
\\ ill admired all the girls in his way,but
he looked upon them very much as sensible
people do upon a hornet's nest—as a curi
ous piece of architecture, but not safe to be
familiar with.
So he kept his distance, and in the mean
time arrived at the mature age of twenty
three. Then he met, for the first time, at a
picnic-party, Adelaide Browne. We be
lieve, people with the stoniest hearts fall in
love at picnics, and from that hour poor
Will hud no comfort of his lile. Sleeping
or walking, his dreams were full of the
beautiful .Miss Browne. Surely there never
was another of the numerous Browne fam
ily like her! Blue eyes, white muslin
dress, with knots of pink ribbon—brown
hair, red lips, pearly teeth, snowy hands—
all danced together in miscellaneous " all
hands round " before his distorted vision.
Adelaide, all unconscious of the trouble
she had caused, went her way, breaking
the hearts of most of the young gentlemen
in Highbridge, and trying hard to fracture
the few that remained whole.
She was visiting her aunt Hooper and it
is an undeniable fact that ladies always
take best where they are not known. This
is no libel on the sex—no, indeed ! for
with gentlemen this truth is still more ap
plicable.
Mrs. Hooper was a widow lady, of no
small personal attractions in her own esti
mation, and if she was not so young as she
might have been, she thought she was, and
behaved accoidingly. She still affected
short sleeves and profuse ringlets of glos
siest black—though envious individuals
persisted in it that her curls were made at
the hair-dresser's. The same persons also
believed that she was anxious to supply
that place of the dear deceased as soon as
possible.
For a week after meeting with Adelaide,
Will bore up bravely. The second meet
ing destroyed all the stock of composure
he had been hoarding up. He took des
perately to the Muses, and walked the
whole night away, to the infinite destruc
tion of shoe-leather and the infinite disgust
of his practical papa.
He met Adelaide now quite frequently.
Highbridge was very gay, There was a
singing school, a lyceum, a society, and
then the folks got up excursions to the sur
rounding hills, for it was yet early autumn,
and nature was in her robes of state.
There was an exclusion to Mount Giblo,
one fine (lay, and there Will had the ecsta
tic pleasure of treading on Adelaide's dress,
thereby throwing her headlong into a pile
of brush, and while Laura Blake picked
her up and helped her pin her Hounces, he
stood by frightened out of his wits, and
momentarily expecting the mountain to
open and swallow him up.
From that time he pined rapidly. His
appetite was a thing of the past. His
mother thought him in a quick decline, and
dosed him with hoarhound and Dr. Perkin's
patent pills. He grew worse and worse.
At last, thinking himself near his end, he
confessed to his mother. She was thunder
struck at first ; but afterwards, like a sen
sible woman, she advised him to put 011 his
" t'other clothes" and go right over and lay
the case before Miss Browne. It couldn't
kill him, she said, and then if she refused
him—why, there was as good fish in the
sea, etc.
Will took three days to consider, and at
the end of that time his mind was made up.
He swallowed a double dose of blackberry
cordial, donned his flame colored vest and
black blue plaids, brushed his hair till it
shone like ebony, covered his head with his
father's ten dollar beaver, and made the
best of his way to Mrs. Hooper's. Not that
he intended to ask Adelaide—but Mrs.
Hooper. If he could only get the aunt won
over to his cause, and employ her to state
the condition of his heart to her niece, he
should be happy. He felt assured that he
never could live through confessing him
self to Adelaide ; and if he did, and she
should say no, he was satisfied he should
faint right on the spot
As good fortune would have it, he found
Mrs. Hooper alone, in her best gown and
her best humor She was charmed to see
him, and treated him to nuts and cider, and
a seat on the sofa so near herself that Will
was at his wit's end to frame the first word
of his errand.
They talked of the weather and the crops
till the clock struck ten. The* widow tried
to make him think it was only nine, but he
was not so far gone but that he could still
count. He felt that the terrible moment
could be no longer delayed ; he must make
a beginning :
" Mrs. Hooper," said he, "I came over
this evening—" he hesitated.
" Yes, Will," she said encouragingly.
" 1 came over—"
"Yes, I know you did," still more en
couragingly.
" I came over to ask a great favor of
you."
" Well, you couldn't have come to any
body that would be readier to do you a
kindness."
"Thank you." The sweat stood on his
forehead in great drops. " But this is a
very delicate business, very. I come to
ask you to —to —to."
" Go on —don't be afraid ; I am listen-
ing."
" The fact of it is, I'm in love—desperate
ly ! There, I've done it 1"
"Mercy on me ! Why William ! and I
never mistrusted it—never ! Well, of all
things !" and the widow edged a little clus
ter and put her fat hand in William's.
" Yes I'm in love, and I come to ask you
if you would—"
" Will I ? To be sure I will 1 How
f could you think otherwise ! 1 have always
I thought so much of you ! But it is so sud
den ! What would folks say?"
"Deuced if I care !" cried Will, elated at
the prospect before him. " It's nobody's
business, am I to be wretched 011 account
of what people say ? Don't hug me so,
Mrs. llooper, I beg—l uiut used to it ; and
—and what was that noise ?"
"The mice, I guess. Dear William, how
glad 1 am you told me !"
"And you'll ask Adelaide, make it all
right with her ?"
" Adelaide ? Oh ! she'll have 110 earthly
objections—of course not !"
" Are you sure? If I was only certain
of it. Oh ! Mrs. Hooper, I loved her the
moment I set my eyes 011 her !"
" Her? Who?"
" Why, your niece, Adelaide Browne.
She is the only woman 011 earth that I could
ever be liappy with. I shall die if I don't
get her !"
Mrs. Hooper turued pale. Site caught up
1 the poker and flew at our hero like a 111a
! niac. He made for the door, she following
j close.
" I'll show you how to insult a respecta
! ble woman !" she cried ; " I'll teach you to
; steal the afl'ectious of a guihdess heart and
! then prove false !" each " showing" ac
companied by a thump from the poker.
Will at last, succeeded in putting the
door between him and his antag mist, and
iu frantic haste lie dived down over the
steps, and at the bottom reeled full into the
■ arms ot Adelaide Browne herself, who was
| just returning from a friend's.
"Don't let her get me !" lie cried ; " I'd
rather die than she should hug me "again !
It's you I love, not her, she's madder than
a panther."
It was not a very elegant proposal, but
Miss Browne's self-possession insured Will's
everlasting weal. She accepted liiin 011
the spot—for she had liked him all along,
and nothing had stood between them but
this abominable baslifulness.
Will is a liappy husband and father now;
but even to this day the sight of a widow
will make him tremble, they are so inti
mately associated in his mind with a po
ker.
FUN, FACTS AND FACETLffi.
Ax editor in Maine is in a bad fix. He
dunned a subscrib. r fur liis subs, -ription, which he
refused to nay, and threatened ( > flog him if he
stopped the paper!
"TOMMY, my son, run to the store and get
a pound of sugar, that's a dear little fellow." "Ex
cuse me, ma ; I am somewhat indisposed this
morning. Send the old man and tell him to bring
me a plug of tobacco !"
" ARE you the mate ?" said a man to the
Irish co.)k of a vessel lyiug in port. "No,'' said
ho, "hut I'm the man as boils the hfile."
IT doesn't follow that, because we have
taken a perilous step, we ought to retrace it. .She
wasn't a wise old women who crossed a bridge,and
on being told that it was labeled "dangerous,"
turned and recrossed it in all haste.
" MA, has aunty got bees in her mouth ?"
"No, why do you ask?" "Cause, Captain Jones
caught hold of her, and said lie was going to take
honey from her lips, and she said, ' Well, make
haste.'"
SoirFiiotiY has found out a now way of
taking pictures, by which they can he taken butter
in the night than in the day time. A photograph
er has missed several from the frames that hung by
I his door and dosn't approve of the plan.
A MAX courting a young woman was in- i
terrogated l)V lnr I'atlifr as to his occupation. "I |
am a paper-iiangvr upon . large scale," ho replied.
He married the girl and turned out to be a bill
sticker.
POOR FELLOW. —An acquaintance who has
been eating and drinking any how for many years
is reduced to sueli a state that the coats of his
stomach are all out at the elbows.
WIIY is cutting off an elephant's head
widely different from cutting off any other head ?
—Because when you separate the head from the
body you don't take it from the trunk.
NEW DEFINITION.— The man who carries
every thing before him The waiter.
" TIM, does your mother ever whip you ?"
"No; but she does a precious sight worse,though."
•• What's that V" " Why,she washes my face every
morning."
AWFFL !—The following startling threat
was made use of the other day by an excited pugil
ist : " 1 *ll twist yon ronnd your own neck, and
ram you down your own throat, until there is noth
ing left of you but the extreme ends of your shirt
collar sticking out of your eyes." His opponent
left.
Do PROFESSORS of logic usually give loc
um s on their own premises ?
QUITE RIUHT—-A sentimental young lady
having asked a gentleman why he did not secure
some l'ond one's company across the ocean of life,
replied that he would do so, weio he certain that
said ocean would be Pacific.
DON'T board at a house where they give
you only cold victuals. It isn't thought healthy
to be upon a cooling board.
A NEURO preacher once observed to his
hearers at the close of his sermon, as follows ; "My
obstinacions bredren,l find it no more use to preach
to you dan it is for a grasshopper to wear knee
bucklos."
" As WE two are one," said a witfv brute
to his wife, "when I beat you, 1 beat half of my
self." "Well," said tie- wife, "tLu-u beat your own
half, not mine."
WHY are suicides the most successful
people in the world V—Because they always accom
plish their vicn tula.
DON'T be a miner if you can be anything
else. There will he time enough to stay under
ground after you are dead.
AT a trial recently the jury returned the
following verdict: "Guilty, with some little doubt
as to whether he is the man."
IT has been decided lately that a boy
found 011 a man's door-step may not necessarily be
liis step-son.
WHY is the punishment of the birch prac
ticed by some pedagogues f- - Because they are of
opinion that it makes dull boys .smart.
FROM what tree was mother Eve prompt
ed to pick the apple ?—Devil-tree.
ARF.RNETHY the celebrated English phy
[ sician, once said to a rich but dirty patient, who
J consulted him about an eruption, "Let your ser
! vants bring to you three or four pails of water and
j put into a wash tub, take off your clothes, get into
! it, and rub yourself with soap and a rough towel,
and you'll-recover." "This adv.ee seems very
much like telling me to wash myself." "Well, it
may he open to such construction," said Abernetliy.
"GOOD blood will always show itself," as
the old lady said, when she was struck by the red
! ness of her nose.
WHY is the leader of an orchestra at the
opera the most wonderful man of the age ?—Be
cause he beats Time.
ANNA, to her beau,— "Frederick, what
city is that you're going to visit this fall ?" Fred,
—"lf you have no objection, I'm going to Have-
Anna."
*s*2 per* Annum, in Advance.
GRAVES OF UNION PRISONERS AT ANDER
SONVILLE.
REPORT OF C,UT. MOOBE.
WASHINGTON, Wednesday, Oct. 18, 181)5.
The following report of Capt. J. M. Moore
A. Q. M., who was sent to Andersonville,
Ga., to mark the graves of Union prisoners
for future identification, contains valuable
information, in which the people are inter
ested, and will, doubtless, be appreciated
by the relatives anp friends of those who
have given their lives to their country :
ASSISTANT QUARTERMASTER'S Office, J
DEPARTMENT OF WASHINGTON,
WASIIINTTON, D. C., Sept. 20, 1855 )
Hrvvtl-Major-Gen. 11. C. MEHIS, (juwtmnuster-Geit
erul United Statm Army, Wnshbujlon, 1). C.
GENERAL : In accordance with Special
Orders No. 19, Quartermaster-General's
Office, dated June 30, 18(>5, directing me to
proceed to Andersonville, Ga., for tli'e pur
pose of marking the graves of Union sol
diers for future identification, and inclosing
the cemetery, I have the honor to report, as
follows :
1 left Washington on the Bth of July last,
with mechanics and materials for the pur
pose above mentioned.
On my arrival at Savannah I ascertained
that there was no railroad communication
whatever to Andersonville, the direct road
to Macon being broken and that from Au
gusta via Atlanta also in the same condi
tion. 1 endeavored to procure wagon trans
portation, but was informed by the General
c 'irinianding the Department of Georgia,
that a sufficient number of teams could not
he had in the State to haul one-half of my
stores, and as the roads were bad and the
distance more than 400 miles, I abandoned
all idea of attempting a route through a
country difficult and tedious under more
propitious circumstances.
The prospect of reaching Andersonville
at this time was by no means favorable,
and nearly one week had elapsed since my
arrival at Savannah. 1 had telegraphed to
Augusta, Atlanta and Macon almost daily,
and received replies that the railroads were
not yet completed.
At length, on the morning of the 18th of
July, the gratify ing telegram from Augusta
was received announcing the completion
of the Augusta and Macon road to Atlanta,
when I at once determined to procure a
boat and proceed to Augusta by the Savan
nah River.
The desired boat was secured, and in 24
hours after the receipt of the telegram al
luded to, was on my way with men and ma
terial for Augusta. On my arrival there I
found the railroad completed to Macon ;
and that from Macon to Andersoiivijle, hav
ing never been broken, experienced little
difficulty in reaching my destination, where
1 arrived July 25, after a tiresome trip, oc
cupying six days and nights.
At Macon, Major-Gen. Wilson detailed
one company of the Fourth United States
Colored Troops to assist me. A member
Of the former company was killed on the
sth of August, at a station named Monte
zuma, on the South-Western Railroad.
The rolling stock of all the roads over
which I traveled is in a miserable Condi- !
tion, and very seldom a greater rate of ;
speed was obtained than twelve miles an
hour. At the different stations along the j
route tle object of the expedition was well i
known, and not unfrequently men, w taring !
the garb of Rebel soldiers would enter the 1
ears and discuss the treatment of our pris-j
oners at Andersonville, all of whom candid- j
ly admitted it was shameful, and a blot on j
the escutcheon of the South that years j
would not efface.
\\ bile encamped at Andersonville I was j
daily visited by men from the surrounding I
country,and had an opportunity of learning !
their feelings toward the Government, and, |
with hardly an exception, found those who !
had been in the Rebel army penitent and |
more kindly disposed than those who have j
never taken a part, and anxious to again j
become citizens of the Government which j
they lought so hard to destroy.
On the morning of the 26th of July, the
work of identifying the graves, painting
and lettering the head boards, laying out
the walks, and inclosing the cemetery, was
commenced, and, on the evening of August
15, was completed, with the exception here
after mentioned.
The dead were found buried in trenches
on a site selected by tiie Rebels, about 300
yards from the stockade. The trenches
were from two to three feet below the sur
face, and in several instances, where the
rains hail washed the earth, but a few inch
es. Additional earth was, however, thrown
on the graves, making them of a still great
er depth.
So close were they buried without cof
fins or the ordinary clothing to cover their
nakedness,that not more than 12 inches was
allowed to each man : indeed, the little ta
blet marking their resting place measuring
10 inches in width,almost touching each oth- j
or '
United States soldiers, while prisoners j
at Andersonville, had been detailed to inter i
their companions, and by a simple stake at
the head of each grave, which bore a num
ber, corresponding with a similar numbered
name upon the Andersonville hospital rec
ord, 1 was enabled to identify and mark
with a neat tablet, similar to those in the
cemeteries at Washington, the number,
name, rank, regiment, etc., and date of
death, of 12,461 graves, there being but
451 which bore the inscription "Unknown
I S Soldiers."
One hundred and twenty thousand feet
of pine lumber was used in these tablets
alone.
The cemetery contains 50 acres, and has
been divided by one main avenue, running
through the center, and subdivided into
blocks and sections in such a manner that,
with the aid of the record, which I am hav
ing copied for the Superintendent, the visi
tors will experience no difficulty in finding
any grave.
A force of men is new engaged in laying
out walks and clearing the cemetery of
stumps, preparatory to planting trees and
flowers.
I have already commenced the manufac
ture of brick, and will have a sufficient
number by the Ist of October to pave the
numerous gutters throughout the cemetery
the clay in the vicinity of the stockade be-J
ing well adapted for the purpose of brick- j
making.
Appropriate inscriptions are placed;
through the ground, and 1 have endeavor- 1
ed, as far as my facilities would permit, to j
transfer this wide, unmarked and unhonor-1
Ed graveyard into a fit place of interment
for the Nation's gallant dead.
At the entrance the works "National
Cemetery, Andersonville, Ga.," designated
the City of the Dead.
On the morning of the 18th of Angust,
at sunrise, the stars and stripes were hoist
ed in the center of the cemetery, when a
national salute was tired, and several na
tional songs sung by those present.
The men who accompanied me, and to
whom I am indebted for the early comple
tion of my mission, worked zealously and
faithfully from early in the morning until
late at night, although suffering intensely
from the effects of heat. Unacclimated as
they were, one after another was taken
sick with the fever incident to the country,
arid in a brief period my force of mechanics
was considerably lessened, obliging me to
j obtain others from the residents in different
parts of the State. All my men, however,
recovered, with the exception of Mr. Eddy
Watts, a letterer, who died on the 16th of
July of typhoid fever, after a sickness of
three weeks. I brought his body back
with me, and delivered it to his family in
this city.
Several of the United States Cavalry,
detailed by Gen. Wilson, died of the same
fever, shortly after joining their command
at Macon.
Andersonville is situated on the South
western Railroad, 00 miles from Macon,
there is but one house in the place, except
those erected by the so-called Confederate
Government as hospitals, officers' quarters,
and commissary and quartermasters' build
ings. It was formerly known as Anderson,
but since the war the "ville" has been added.
The country is country is covered mostly
with pines and hemlocks, and the soil is
sandy, sterile, and unfit for cultivation,
aud, unlike the section of country a few
miles north and south of the place, where
the soil is well adapted for agricultural
purposes, cotton as well as corn is exten
sively raised.
It is said to be the most unhealthy part
of Georgia, and was probably selected as
a depot for prisoners on account of this
fact. At midday the thermometer in the
shade reaches frequently 110, deg. and in
the suu the heat is almost unbearable.
The inhabitants of this sparcely settled
locality are with few exceptions, of the
most ignorent class, and from their hag
gard and sallow faces the effects of chills
and fever are distinctly visible.
The noted prison pen is 1,540 feet long
and 150 feet wide, and contains 27 acres.
The dead line is 17 feet from the stockade,
and the sentry boxes are 30 yards apart.
The inside stockade is 18 feet high, the
outer one 12 feet high, and the distance be
tween the two is 120 feet.
Nothing lias been destroyed. As our ex
hausted, emancipated and enfeebled sol
diers left it, so it stands to-day, as a monu
ment to an inhumanity unparalleled in the
annals of war.
How men could survive as well as they
did in this pen, exposed to the rays ol an
almost tropical sun by day and drenching
dews by night, without the slightest cover
ing, is wonderful.
The ground is filled with the holes where
they had burrowed in their efforts to shield
themselves from the weather, and many a
poor fellow, in endeavoring to protect him
self in this manner, was smothered to death
by the earth falling in upon him.
A very worthy man has been appointed
superintendent of the grounds and cemetery,
with instruction to allow no buildings or
structures of whatever nature to be de
stroyed, particularly the stockade surround
ing the prison pen.
The stories told of the sufferings of our
men, while prisoners here have been sub
stanciated by hundreds, and the skeptic
who will visit Andersonville even now, and
examine tiie stockade, with its oozy sand,
the cramped and wretched burrows, the
dead-line and the slaughter-house, must be
a callous observer indeed if lie is not con
vinced that the miseries depicted at this
prison-pen are no exaggerations.
I have the honor to be, General, your
obedient servant. JAMES M. MOORE.
Caption and Assistant-Quartermaster. U. S. A.
NUMBER 23
SALT WF.LLS OK THE I'SITED STATES. —The
consumption of salt in this oouiury is enor
mous, but of unknown magnitude. Our
supplies come from the West Indies and
Great Britain chiefly, and Liverpool salt is
nothing other than that of the West Indies
improved by grinding. • A great deal is de
rived too from domestic distillation. It
will be remembered that an important
da y performed by the navy along the At
lantic and Bay coasts of the Southern
States was the destruction of all the salt
factories, some of which were unexpected
ly large and well furnished, and turned out
immense supplies. Besides being produced
by solar evaporation of sea water, as in
the cases alluded to, salt is also obtained
in this country from distillation of the brine
of salt springs and from the borders of salt
lakes, where the snu evaporates the water.
New York and West Virginia and Ohio
and Michigan furnish something of the for
mer. Texas and Utah provide the latter.
The business is now a very important one,
since we consume some twenty-eight mil
lion bushels annually. As long ago as
182!) the wells on the Kanawha river pro
duced about one million bushels of salt an
nually, which was afterwards increased to
some three millions. The wells there were
sunk from 800 to 1,500 feet, and the llols
ten river salines produced about 250,000
bushels annually.
The salt springs on the river Kiskimine
tas, in Western Pennsylvania, yield about
j one million bushels annually, and from
I what we have heard of the product in the
! northwestern part of the State we expect
j to have this production greatly increased
by the next census. There were some
1 half million bushels produced in the Hock
ing Valley and Pomeroy salines of Ohio in
1855, and the yield must be vastly larger
j now. There are three great salt basins,
too, in Michigan ; 17,000 square miles in
; the valley of the Saginaw river, producing
50,000 bushels in 1850, have been so en
larged by closing the Kanawha works that
more than 3,000,000 bushels were made in
1863. This finds its market in the South
and West. The New York works at Syra
j cuse produced 9,053,864 bushels in 1862
and 8,378,835 in 1863. The Association
| owning them has a capital of sl6o,ooo,and
in four years they have paid to the stock
holders $944,000. The total product of tbo
; country is about 17,000,000 bushels per
annum, ifnd the total import between
10,000,000 and 13,000,000 ; giving an ag
gregate consumption of about 30,000,000
i bushels.
A FIVE year old chap was assigned the
duty of "rocking" his little brother to sleep.
After a few minutes of fruitless effort to
soothe the restless infant to slumber, he
called his mother's attention to the state of
the case with this remark, "Ma, this fellow
won't go to sleep--1 think he wants some
thing." All questions as to what the baby
wanted were only answered by a blush
and a downcast look, but iu a few mtnutes
after, while the infant was in the enjoy
ment of what lie really did want, little five
year old explained himself by the interro
gation, "Ha! didn't 1 know what he waut
ed ?"