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THE SOUTHERN TXJIS, -A. IST 33 r ; HARFORD COUNTY INTELLIGENCER. — - ■ : &r=? — . . • . ..■■■■. JMWtfr I 0 Ijjf |Utos of tyt gag, Agriculture, literature, politics anb General lafarmatiaii. . -V-ffiy . - - '" : - ' - " 1 W'*- ■' =■• =-• —1 1 “LET US CLING TO THE CONSTITUTION AS THE MARINER CLINGS TO THE LAST PLANK WHEN THE NIGHT AND TEMPEST CLOSE ABOUND HlM.’* I ■'fm&k . > -=■- - ■ -■ - ".T--T ■■ . ■ . -• ■=■.■■ ■■ = . w % - ■ ■■ '■■■'■ ■ ■ ■■■ 11 ■ - ■ i. - i. , $X PER ANNUM. BEL AIRs MD. SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 12, 1862. VOL. % VL-NO. 28. THE SOUTHERN fflS 18 PUBLISH*!) EVERT SATURDAY MORNING, , BY -A.- ~SKT- B-A.TE^-A.3ST, AT ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE, OTHERWISE) One Dollar and Fifty Cents , Will bo charged. RATES or ADVERTISING. One square, (twelve lines or less,) three inser tions, SI.OO. Each subsequent insertion 25 cts. One square three months $3.00; Six months $5.00; Twelve months SB.OO. Business cards qf six lines or less, $5 a year. No subscription taken for less than a year. Pm Sitting in the Twilight BY MRS. E. D. R. I’m sitting in the twilight— The twilight soft and pale, Sod are the memories it invites, And many a hope unveils, That time and suffering had obscured With clouds of grief and pain; The twilight hour hath now restored, And gilds them o’er again. I’m sitting in the twilight \ • Uncared for, lone and sad ; The qniet stars beam just as bright As if my soul were glad; All nature seems in peace to sleep, Unmindful of the strife That through ray tortured bosom creeps. To snap the chords of life. I’m sitting in the twilight— The twilight calm and still; I’m list’ning to the bird of night, The lonely whippoorwill, It*t pensive notes recall again Sweet words tha: truthful seemed, And dreams of love now worse than vain, And vows still unredeemed. Deer Park, Harford Co., Md. Ipmdlaiufltts. LEXTER FROM MAJOR JACK DOWN ING. Washington, June Bth, 1862. To the Editors of The Cawcaehin ; Sure: —It has been mity onpleasant wether since I writ you last, an I have had a rale sharp twinge of the rumatics. These cold rains in June are hard on a constitushin that has bad a tussle with nigh on to about eighty winters; but howsever, with a little elder bark tee my favorit remedy wen it’s mixed with a good deal of old rye, I’ve got now about as good as new agin. So the other day' I telled Linkin 1 was goin to finish up my siferin on the financies. He sed be wish ed X would, for he was alreddy beginning to think about laying the foundashin for his nex message, an he wanted the facts to put in. So I telled him he must give mo a letter of authority that 1 might show the Seokatary of the Treasury, so that be would see that 1 warn’t eny common chap coming to pry into what was none of my business. So Linken sat down an writ a letter as follows : “Dear Sub -Majer Jack Downing is authorized to examine into the state of the financies in partickelar. When the Kernel first writ the letter, he did’nt have on the last two words in italicks. I asked him to pat ’em on an he did. Ses he, “Major, what do you want them words for ?” “Wal,” ses I, “Kernel, them words will' puzzle Chase onamost to death, an will so trubbel him that he will think ef he dares to keep back the truth that you’ll be sure to give him his walkio papers. You see, Kernel, you must be a little mysterious with these politicians, or else they don’t get afeered of you.” V , 1 1 then put the letter in my hat, rite un der the linin, an takin my slate under am and my hickory in my hand, I start ed for the Treasury buildin. It ain’t far &r from the White House, an I soon got there. It’s amity big pile of stones, I tell yon, an must have costa beep of mon ey to have got it fixed up so nice. Jest as I was goin in the door, 1 met Mr. Chase comin out. He knew me and I knew him,'tho’ hie didn’t suspect for a minnit what I was after. See he, “Ma jer, I’m highly tickled to see you. 'lt does my heart good \fl see a genuwine loy al! man in these days of rebellynn, an I know you’re one.” “Wal,” ses I, “Mr. Sekatary, ef Ginneral Jackson was a loy al) man, then I’m one, an ef be warn’t - loyall, then there ain’t eny sioh thing as ’ loyalty.” Ses he, “Majer, you’re rite, au \ what kin Ido for you this mornin ?” i “Wal,” ses I, “Mr. Seckatary, I’ve cum 1 around to inquire into the state of the j financies. The President ses he’s very i busy, an bein as I was good at figgers, he wanted me to jest takealook at the books i an see how the ackounts stand.” Wen I sed this, I see he didn’t look 1 pleased at all. He began to make sum I sort of apologies, that the ackounts were i behindhand, and so on, but I telled him I i warn’t partickelar about all the little items, 1 an that I only wanted to get at tho gin neral sum; but as he still seemed to be < hesitatin, thinks I to myself, now’s the time to show him the President’s letter— i that will fix him, sure. So I took off my hat and showed it to him. When he red it he was as perlite as a nigger when he wants to humbug you. He looked at it a long while before be sed enything.— Wen he did speak, ses he, “Majer, what do these last words ‘in partickelar’ mean?’’ “Wal,” ses I, “I don’t know as I can tell. The President put ’em there, an I didn’t ask him what he meant by ’em.” You see, I warn’t goin to be fool enough to let him think I had him put ’em there, for that would have spoilt all my plans. I see he was worried, an that was jest what I wanted. After that he asked me to come in his office, and he begun to tell me that the financies were in a very prosperous con dishin. He took down a big book, which he sed his darks had prepared for him, so that he could see every Saturday nite, jest how much th<J Government was in debt.— I took a look at it, but I couldn’t tell head nor tail to it. He sed they kept their books by dubbel entry. I telled him that a single entry would be as many times os such a debt as ours ought to be chalked down. Now, ses I, Mr. Seoka tary, I want to get at this subject in away that “plain people,” as the Kernel ses, can understand it. Ses I> what is the debt now ? “Wal,” ses he, “it is $491,000,- 000. Is that all, ses 1? Why in your report last winter you estimated that it would be $517,000,000, and you don’t say that it is less than the estimate.— “Wal,” ses he, “Majer, that is what the books say.” Now, ses I, Mr. Seckatary, them books by dubbel entry ain’t worth a peck of saw dust. There was Deacon Doo little’s son, Hosea, of Downingville, who went to York and set up the dry-goods business. When he failed his books show ed that he was worth two hundred thou sand dollars, and yet he didn’t have mon ey enough to get bis wife hum to his father’s. You see dubbel entry is a good deal like tryin to ride two bosses at onoo; you can’t manage ’em, and things get so kinder mixed up in profit and loss, and notes payable and notes recevable, that you can’t tell how you stand.. Now, ses ; 1, Mr. Seckatary, I want to ask you some questshins by single entry, and 1 will put the ansers down on the slate. Ses I— “Didn’t you say in your report that the estimate for the army was for 400,000 soldiers, $400,000,000 ; for 500,000 sol diers, $500)000,000, qnd so on?” “Yes, Majer, that was the statement, I beleevo.” “Wal, now,” ses I, “wo kin figger this down in short meter. How many soldiers have you had ?” “Wal,’’ ses he, over 600,000 have been paid for, nigh about ; 700,000.” “Now,” ses I, “Mr. Seckata ry, you don’t want eny doable entry or i threbbel entry to get at that; the multi- i plicashin tabel is jest as good a dockymeat as I want. Take that and my slate, and : I ken figger it np in a minnit You see, there is $700,000,000 at one olap. Your i books may Show what you have paid, but you see, Mr. Seokatary, you are runnin this war on credit, and because you ain’t ■ paid all your debts, that is no sign that you Won’t have to. Besides,” ses I, “Mr. 1 Seokatary, you have made, you know, 1 some misoalculashuns, and mebby you may ! make more. In your fust report in'Jnly, i 1861, I’ve been resdin it kcerfully, and i I’ve got it marked down on the slate here, 1 you sed the expenses for 1862 would be 1 $318,000,000, but in December, you sed 1 they would be $543,000,000; Now, here < was a mistake of over $200,000,000. You ( sed in July, the tariff would yield $57,- 000,000. In December, you sed you t could not collate on over $82,000,000. 1 You estemsted the receipts from land j sales in July at $3,000,000. Yon, cut ( it down in December to $2,800,000, and now Congress, by passing the Home- ( stead Bill, wHI whittle it all off. Here 1 you see are some grate mistakes, but there are some on the other side of the ackount. j i < Hv. - WmSSm ' *#'. . a There are some items of expenses, too, which you have omitted. There’s the $80,000,000 recently passed to settle up Cameron’s ackounts. Then there is a $100,000,000 of ontstandin debts. Then there was $10,000,000 extra-given to the navy* for iron clad boats. Then there is SIOO bounty to each soldier, which, by the time the war is over, will amount to $100,000,000 any how. Then there is $1,000,000 given to buy the niggers in this District. Let us see now how much that makes. I’ll add it up— 5250,000,- 000 which, added to the $700,000,000, makes $950,000,000, as the present debt Uncle Sam has on his shoulders.— You might jest as well call it a Thou sand Million op Dollars and bo done with it.” ' When I got through, the Scckatary looked amazin red in the face-, and see be, “Majer, the truth is, where ther is so many people spendin money it’s mity hard to keep track of all the items.” Wal, ses I, there ain’t only one more pint on which I want to show you you have made a mistake. In December last you calke lated that the war expenses for 1863 would be $360,000,000, but the House has already passed bills for the army amounting to 520,000,000. Then you thought, Mr. Seckatary, that the war would be ended by July, but here it is about that time, and we only seem to bo jest fairly getting into tic shank of the fight. “Wal, to tell the truth, Majer, this war has disappinted the hull of us, but I think 1 havn’t been so foolish as Seward. I never sed it would end in ‘sixty days.’ ” “That’s so,” ses I, “but you see there’s nothin like tellin the truth rite out, and its alius very bad to deceive the people on money matters. You may love the nig gers, Mr. Seckatary, as much as you want to, but don’t try to pull the wool over white folks’ eyes, or let other people do it, for it will break down the administra tion as sure as my name is Majer Jack Downing.” “Wal,” ses he, “Majer, that’s so, and when I send in ray next Report I’m goin to jest speak rite out. I’ve tried to do my best to keep down expenses, but I can’t, and when I get another chance I’m goin to put the blame where it be longs.” Ses I, “that’s rite, Mr. Seckatary. Don’t let the raskils git clear without bein exposed. But ef you undertake to cover up their tracks you will come out jest as old Squire Biddle did in that Uni ted States Bank matter.” I then bid the Seckatary “good mornin” and smarted back to the White House.— He was very perlite to me, and sed he hoped the President and me would look at the subject favorably. I telled him that the Kernel would dp what was jest rite, and that ef he would only keep a sharp look out on the plunderers and stealers I would be bis friend till death. He sed he would, and we shook hands and parted. Wen I got back Linkin sot in a cheer fast asleep, with his feet up orf a label. Igiv the tabel a rap with my hickory, and the Kernel stiatened up jest like openin a jack nife, and ses he, “was I asleep, Ma jer ?” “Yes, jest as solid as a sawlog.— What on arth makes you sleep,” ses I “rite in the middle of the day ?” “Wal,” ses he, “Majer, the truth is, I was readin the Nashinal Intelligencer /” “Sure enuf, ses I, “that’s worse than opium.” “But,” ses he, “what about the finances ?” Then I showed him the slate, and how I had figered up the debt, and told him all I sed to Mr. Chase. I "ever see a man so flus tr&ted as Linkin was. “Wal,” ses he, “Majer, ef I was only back to Illinoy safe and sound, you would never ketch me run nin for President agin. I bad no idee that the debt was anything like this. But ef the music has to be faced, I’ll face it. There’s one thing, Majer,. that we’ve got tbo advantage of any other administrashin in. We ken say that this debt was a ‘military necessity !’ That cuts off debate.” “Wal,” sea I, “Kernel, perhaps the people will be satis fied with that, and perhaps they won’t.— Any how, that won’t make it any easier to pay the taxis.” “Wal,” ses Linkin, “we’ll leave that subject to posterity.” Ses I, “is that fair, Kernel, to burden posterity in that fasbun ?” “Wall,” ses he, “what’s pos terity ever done for us ?” The Kernel then took dow* the figgern off my slate in his boob, an'sed he would HESSI&xc r ''' 1 an awful dry an tough subjec. So I think you better have some old rye to sort of top off with.” Then he called the fel ler in party bad clothes, who does arrands, an telled him to bring out the black bot tle. “Now, Majer,” ses the Kernel “take a good swig. It will be healthy for your rumatiz. As for me, I’ll jest take a lit tle for company sake. I don’t drink my self, you*know, Majer, but I like to have a little old rye aroun; an I alius tell the old woman of there’s eny of it missun not to ask eny questshins.” After we got dun drinking, ses I, “Kernel, I have been here with you ever sence the Ist of Febu ary, an wen I cum I didn’t expeo to stay more than a month. Now, the 4th of July is comin along close at hand, an I must be thinking about gettin back to Downingville, for I must be there before the 4th. Now,” ses I, “Kernel, of you’ll only go along with me down there, as G-in neral Jackson did, I’ll promise you a great recepshun.” “Wal,” ses he, “Majer, I can’t go. — The truth is, the rebils need watohin. — But you tell the Downingville folks that jest as soon as the rebelyun is put down, I’me comin down ther. A town that ken turn out sich a loyall regiment as the ‘Downingville Insensibles,’ and such tal ented officers as Insine Stebbins, must be, as we Westerners say, ‘a heep of a place.’ I’me sorry to have you go, majer, but I hope you’ll be able to come back after the nashinul anniversary.” ■ “Wal,” ses I, “Kernel, I can't promis, but I’ll see how my rumatiz gets on.” I shall pack up in a few days, onless something onexpected occurs, and it may be the next time you heer from me, it will be from Downingville. If you print this letter, I hope you will appollogize for its dullness, for figgers are mity dry readin for most peepul. Hows ever, ef they don’t study into figgers about these days, it won’t bo long, I’me afeered, before they’ll to sorry they didn’t. Your frend, Majer Jack Downing. English Girls. —The English girl spends more than one-half of her waking hours in physical amusements, which tend to develop and invigorate and ripen the bodily powers. She s|des, walks, drives, rows upon the water, runs, dances, plays, sings, jumps the rope, throws the ball, burls the quoit, draws the bow, keeps up the shuttle-cock—and all this without having it pressed forever upon her mind that she is thereby wasting her time.— She does this every day until it becomes a habit which she will follow up through life. Her frame, as a natural cqpsequence, is large, her muscular system in better subordination, her strength more enduring and the whole tone of her mind healthier. Dinner for Men—Tea for Women. —Says a good observer: “You never hear one woman.invite another woman out to dinner, any more than you hear one man ask another man to come and take tea with him. No! it would seem that women’s hearts softened and melted over the tea cup, and that men’s could fly open to each other with the table cloth. Who is there td explain it? It takes several knives and forks to dig into a man’s secret na ture, whereas the simple key of the tea caddy will unlock a woman’s secrets at any time. A Beautiful Signification. —“ A labama” signifies, in the Indian language, “Here we rest.” A story is told of a tribe of Indians, who fled from a relentless foe in the trackless forest of the Southwest. Weary v and travel-worn they reached a no ble riVer, which flowed through a beauti ful country. The chief of the band attack his tent pole in the ground, exclaiming, “Alabama [‘Alabama!” (Here we shall rest! here we shall rest!’’) —i > ifc 1 19“ The beat thing about a girl is cheerfulness. We don’t care how ruddy her cheek may be, or how velvety her lips —if she‘wears a scowl, even her friends will consider her ill-looking; while the young lady who illuminates her counte nance with smiles will be regarded as handsome, though her complexion is coarse enough to grate nutmegs on. As perfume is to the rose, so is good-nature to the lovely. A Question.—We find the following in the Elmira BepuMican:-- Two gentlemen have each a daughter. Each marries the daughter of the other. Supposing them n Y _ r" o . both to have JOiren by tie manage, what will bo thPWation of the children to cash other? • t ". ■ . :v^y: [ A Shrewd Irish in an. fc Ad Irish priest was seen standing at • the corner of one of the squares in Lon- don, about the hour of dimer. One ol • his countrymen observing the worthy 3 father in perplexity, addressed him— r “Oh, Father O’Leary, how is your riv ■ irence ?” “Mightily put out,” was the reply. 1 “Put out! who’d put out yonr rivir ! once ?” i> > “Ah! you don’t understand; this is 1 just it—l am invited to dine at one of the t houses in this square, and I have forgotten • the name, and I never looked at the ' numbey, and now it’s seven o’clock.” f “Oh, is that all,” was theory. “Just be aisy now, yonr rivirenoe, I’ll settle that > for you.” > So saying, away flow the good natnrod I Irishman round the square, glancing at ■ the kitchens, and when he discovered a ; fire that denoted hospitality, he thundered at the door and inquired—“ls Father o’- • Leary here?” As might be expected, - again and again he was repulsed. At 1 length an angry footman exclaimed— i “No, bother on Father O’Leary, he is ■ not here, but he was to dine here fcwiay, i and the cook is in a rage, and says the - dinner will 'be spoilt All is waiting for i Father O’Leary.” Paddy, leaping from the door as if the steps were on fire, rushed up to the aston i isbed priest— “ All right, your honor’s rivirenoe, you i dine at 48, and a mighty good dinner you’ll get.” i “Oh; Pat, said the grateful pastor, “the blessings of a hungry man be upon yon.” 1 “Long life and happiness to yonr rivir ince. I have got yonr malady, I only 1 wish I had yonr remedy.,’ Better than * Han. It is well known that all ladies have an ' intense admiration for the sewing machine, and that their delight in the possession calls out enthusiastic terms of praise. A lady called at a sewing machine agency to 1 purchase, and inquiring for some one who ; had a machine of whom she could learn 1 its merits, was, among others, referred to i a lady then present, a qniet, demure , looking maiden lady. Upon being qnes , tioned, this individual at first replied with , modest reserve, bnt finally the all-absorh i ing delight every sewing machine proprie ; tress inevitable feels, got the better of her I diffidenbe, and she* warmly eulogized the ■ object of the inquiry; ana finally her eyes i brightened, her cheek grew rosy, and she i sprang to her feet, and with an energetic , voice said : “Like my sewing machine T ' to be sure I do. WAy, I wouldn't begin ; to exchange it for a man /’’ \ A Shrewd Minister. A minister had travelled for to preach to a congregation.. After the sermon ho had waited very patiently expecting some of the brethren to invite him home to , dinner. In this he was disappointed.— One and another departed until the boose was almost empty. Summoning resolu t tion, however, he walked up to an elderly ! looking gentleman, and gravely said. Will you go home with me to dinner to day, brother ?, “Where do you live ?” “About twenty miles from this.” “No,” said the man coloring, “bt you must go home with me.” ‘.‘Thank you ; I will cheerfully.” After that time the minister was no more troubled about bis dinner. ■ ' ■ —— An impatient Welchman called to his wife, “Gome, come, isn’t breakfast ready f I’ve bad nothing since yester day, and to-morrow will be toe third day!” This is equal to the call of the stirring housewife, who aroused her maid at fear o’clock, with, “Gome, Bridget, get up!— Here "tin Monday morning, to>raomfi\, Tuesday, next day’s Wednesday—half the [ week’s gone —and nothing done yet!” MT‘Didn’t you tell me you aonid hold the plough?’ said a former to an Irishman he bad taken on trial. ‘Be aisy, now,’ said Pat. ‘Ho/ the dint could I honld it, an two bones mUui it away? Jiat stop the erathare, d l’ll l* s * ■ I hould it ffll* ynn 9 a.. *o„ #*l hi f , sa.” * “What have for brctkfifc* * Is*** \ . fc.;-.-