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The southern aegis, and Harford County intelligencer. (Bel Air, Md.) 1862-1864, July 12, 1862, Image 1

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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.’*
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$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.;-.-

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