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THE SOUTHERN AXHS,
$1 PER ANNUM. THE SOUTHERN jEGIS IS PDBUBHBn EVKRY SATURDAY MORNING, 1 BY .A.. W. BATEMAN, AT ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, IK ADVANCE, OTHERWISE One Dollar and Fifty Cents , Will be charged. RATES OF ADVERTISING. One square, (ten lines or less,) three inser- | lions, SI.OO. Each subsequent insertion 25 cts. One square three months $3.00; Six months $5.00; Twelve months SB.OO. Business cards of six lines or less, $5 a year. No subscription taken for less than a year. Ths lay of the Hen-Pecked. , Oh, her hair is dark us the midnight wave, And her eyes like (he kindling fire; . And her voice is as sweet as the spirit’s voice, That chords with the seraph’s lyre ! But her nails are as sharp as a toasting fork, And her arras are as strong as a bear's ; She pulled my hair and she gouged my eye, And she kicked me down the stairs. I’ve got me an eye that’s made of glass, And I’ve got a' wig that’s new The wig is frizzled in corkscrew curls, And ray eye is clouded blue. She may shake her knuckles full in my face, And put the lamp to my beard— And hold the broomstick over ray head— But I’urnot at allafeer’d. For I’ve bound her over to keep the peace, And I’ve bought me a crab-tree nine; The policeman will come, and the justice too, If she meddles with me again. My head was a week in a linen cap, • And ray eyes a month in a patch ; ’ I never thought the torch of love Would light such a brimstone match. Ifiisffllaneous. LETTER FROM MAJOR JACK DOWN ING.. t Washington’, Dec. 20, 1862. To the Editors of The Cuwcashin : Suns:—Wal, cf I ain't been hizzy sence I writ you last, I wouldn’t say so. I got your letter about seein Blair on the questshin of sendin the Gawcashin in the mails, an I hadn’t eny doubt but bo would do it as soon as I put the subject to him in the rite light. Blair’s father, “Parson Blair,” as he used to be called in the old Ginneral’s time, an I used to be very thick. Ho helped me sifer u good deal j wen I was postin the Ginneral up about Biddle’s Bank matters. But I hadn’t seen the old man for a long time ontel I called on him totber day. He was dred ful glad to see me, and shuck my hand as ef he thought there warn’t no feelin in it. Ses he, “Major, it's a long time sence we’ve met, an I know you’re a loyal man, for there ain’t no follerer of Ginneral Jackson that could be cnything else Ses I, “Ef there’s a loyal man in this country, I’m one. I go in for puttin down every feller that’s opposed to the Constitution, I don’t keer who ho is. 1 only wish we had an Old Hickery to step in now an jest deal out jestiss all around, without eny parshality. I guess there’s a g' •<! menny fellers that don’t expect it, who might get histed.” “Wal,” ses he, “Majer, I’m of your idee exactly. The truth is, I’m thinkin that this administra shin is played out. The Ultrys will ruin it.” “Wal,” ses I, “Mister Blair, I’ve cum to see you about another matter.— Your son Montgumroery, who usM to be a little shaver in the old Ginnerai’s time, has got the place of Ames Kindle, an he has been stoppin Dimmycratic papers in the mails.” “Oh no,” ses he, “only sum disloyal sheets.’.’ “No,” ses I, “I’ll give you a hunderd dollars for every word of disloyalty agio the Constitushin you’ll find in that paper.’’ Here I took a Gate qashin out of my pocket, an handed it to him. Ho looked it over an couldn't find nothin to object to. Then I showed him the motto at its head, taken from bis own words about the freedom of the press, an then I tolled him I wanted him to go with me to Montgummcry, an see ef the thing Wouldn’t bo fixed. So we went over, an you never see a man stare so as Montgum mery did. Ses he, “Majer Downing, I’m lo tju |Utos of fjje §ag, literature politics anb General Information. “LET US CLING TO THE CONSTITUTION AS THE MARINER CLINGS TO THE LAST PLANK WHEN THE NIGHT AND TEMPEST CLOSE AROUND . J tickled to see you. I think you have | slighted mo sence you’ve been in Washing- j | ton. You've been to see nigh about all the members of the Cabynet except me ” I “Wal,” ses I, “I don’t go around much I except on bizness for the Kernel; but now,” ses I, “I’ve cum on another arrund; I've cum to sec why you don’t allow all the Dimmycratic newspapers to go in the mails.’’ “Wal,” ses he, “Majer, that’s jest what I’m goin to do. It was bad biz ness for us that we ever stopped these pa pers. It made more votes for the Dim mycratic party than eny other cause j The truth is, it never was my policy. 11 never did beleeve in it, and now they all I see it must he given up.” Ses I, “Mis- i ter Blair, ef you didn’t beleeve in it, you i orter have refused to do it. That ain’t ■ the way the old Ginneral acted, an he’s my model. Ef he thought onything was roug, there warn’t a mortal man, high or low, that could have got him to do it.— He would have died afore he would do wat his conscience told him warn’t right, an it’s them kind of men that are great men, an will save our country, cf it ever I is saved.’’ “Wal,” ses he, “Major, you're j about right, an I don’t think 1 shall stay in this boat much longer. Things are goin from had to wus.” “Yes,” sos I, “they are like old Sol Hopkins’s dyin cow, ‘getliu no better very fast.’”—! “But,” ses he, “Majer, you can rest easy on Die papers. We are goin back to the Free Press Principul, an let the people have their own way.” “Wal,” ses I, “I’m glad to hear it. It’s about time there was a change.” So I bid him good by, an went back to see the Kernel, who I found in a peck of. trubbil. Ses I, “what’s the matter now ?” j for I saw at a glance that sumthin was up. Ses I, “is Burnside whipped agin or I is Stonewall Jackson in our rear ?’’—i “No,’’ ses he, “Majer, nothin of that sort,, but sumthin jest about as bad.” “Wal,” ; ses I, “what is it ?" “Wal,” ses he, i “there has jest been acommitty herefrom | the Senit who demand that I shall change my Cabbyhet. They say we don’t have . eny success, an the people demand a j change.” “Ses I, “did you kick cm down stairs ?” “No,” ses he, “I j didn’t.” “Wal,’’ ses I, “you orter. — J They mite jest us well ask you to resign.” Ses 1, “don’t your Cabbyuet agree in your policy? Don’t they do as you desire.’ “Yes,” ses he, “they do.” “Wal,” ses I, “then what’s the use of chaugin ? If you intend to change your policy, then it is reasonable to ask you to change your i Cabbyuet, bat otherwuys not.” “Wal,” ■ ses he, “Major, that’s my idee exactly, but I didn’t tell cm so, 1 thought I would wait an see what you thought of it.”— “Wal,” ses I, “I see the hull cause of the rumpus. The defeat of Burnside has made em so w rat by that they didn’t know i what to do, an they thought they must find fault about sumthin ” Ses I, “fight in the rchils is jest for all the world Tike bar buntin. A good menny years ago, when it was common up in 'Maine, nigh about all the uabors would now an then turn out to hunt a bar. If they caught him they used to have a grand time, get up a big supper an drink whiskey till they all got how cum you so. But if they didn't ketch the bar, then one was blamin totber, an totber anuther, an sum times the affair would end by get tin iuto a regular titc all around. Jest so it is now. If Burnside had whipped the rebils, it would all have been right.” SesLinkin, ses he, “Majer, you’re right. But what am Ito do ? They kompluin about the Cubhynet, an want me to change it.” “Wal,” ses I, “Kernel, I tell you how to fix it. Get the Committy and Cabbynet face to face, an let ’em quarrel it out.” “That would be a capital idee, Majer, but how am I to do it ?” “Wal,” ses I, “you jest call the Cabbynet together for twelve- o’clock t<T morrow, an then send for the Committy, an put ’em in the same room together, an see how the happy family will manage.” The Kernel was struck with the idee, an so the next day the Cabbynet were assem bled, an pooty soon after the Committy, I with Fessenden as Choerman, made their! appearance You never see a more flus tircatod set of people in this world than these men were. But there was no back in out. The Kerne! called the meetin to order, an sed he had received a good many komplaints, an he wanted tjie matter fully discussed. Fessenden got up, an sed that the people were gettih tired of the war, an that the only way to satisfy ’em was to change the Cabbynet. Burnsi-ie had been defeated, Banka had been scut a great ways off, when ho was wanted at homo, 1 HARFORD COUNTY INTELLIGENCER. BEL AIR. MD. SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY 10, 1863. A IsT 3D the sojers warn’t paid, the gunboats warn’t j finished, &e., &c. Chase got up first, he j sed if the sojers warn’t paid it warn’t his I fault. The fact was, that paper had riz onexpectedly, an his stuck was low. Jest as soon as paper got more plenty, an ho got the new patent National Ten Cylender llevnlvin Machine at work, the sojers would be all paid regular. Then Stantin got up, puffin like a porpuss. Ses he, “Mr. President, these ere remarks are im pertinent, an if I had my way, I would send every one of this Committy to the Old Capitol. I’de like to know what these j men know about war and strategy. Why, ! they talk about the defeat of Burnsi.de.— ! It is nonsense, sir, he ain’t been defeated! I The people are humbugged by the news j papers. It’s a pity there’sM newspaper in the land. They interfere with my strate gy. Burnside has gained a great success. He has discovered the strength of the en emies works at that pint, and now we know that some other route is the one to take, and not that one. Ef it had not been for the battle, we should not have i found that. out. This Committy of old I gentlemen, or old women 1 had almost 1 said, don’t understand the art of war.— I’ll squelch ’em with a proclamation, if no other way.” Then Granfather Welles got up, an sed | he didn’t like to have fault found because his gunboats warn’t reddy. He sed he would like to see any one who had work ed harder than be had. He sed he hadn’t slept hut fourteen hours a day for six months, while his natural rest required eighteen. He had sacrificed all that for his country, an he didn’t believe one of j the Committy bed done as much. Blair ; got up an sed he didn’t kter how quick they turned him out. He was reddy to ! go eny time, as he thought the thing was i about, played out. Bates sed he thought i things looked more cheerful titan ever be \ fore, as he had jest discovered that uig- I gets could be citizens, an that the Died | Scott decision was a humbug. When they all got thru, there was a ginnerel I talk all around and they finally cum to the i conclusion that there warn’t eny reason for a change after all an they all went off | in a pretty good humor. So the great Cabbynet orysis ended, and the Kernel feels like a new man.— My idee of gettin them ail together face to face, the Kernel ses saved the nashun. That nite we.setup till after midnight, and finally after takin a good swig of Old Rye, went to bed. The next morning the Kernel was merry as a lark, an could tell | stories as well as ever. Yours till deth, Majer Jack Downing. How Pontoon Bridges are Made. —Pontoon boats are flat bottomed, thirty feet long, two and a half feet wide at the bow, and five feet wide at the stern, swell ing out at the sides to the width of six feet. Each tits on a running gear of four wheels, and is used as a baggage wagon by the pontoniers, carrying its proportion of string pieces of plank On reaching a river, the boats are unloaded, floated across by cables made fast up the stream, then the string pieces are laid across from one boat to another, and on these are placed the planks, each twenty-one feet long, which form the gangway of that width. It is a fine sight to see a regiment come to a river bank, with a pontoon train, unload and launch their bouts, moor them in line, and in less than five min utes from the time when the word “halt” was given, have a bridge, say six hundred feet in length, over which an army can solely pass with artillery and baggage. Tell your Wife all your Secrets —Especially as to money matters. Not to do so (says “Woman's Thoughts.”) “tends to lesssen her dignity of character and does not increase her esteem for you. If she is a sensible woman, she should be acquainted with your business and know your income, that she may regulate her household expenses accordingly. Do not withhold this knowledge, in order to cover your extravagance. Women have a keen perception—he sure she will discover your selfishness, and though no word be spoken, from that moment her respect is lessened, and her confidence diminished, pride wounded, and a thousand, perhaps unjust, suspicions created From that moment is your domestic comfort on the wane.— There can be no oneness where there is not full confidence. He is a first rate collector who can upon all occasions collect his wits. Chinese Ladies. Shut up within the walls they live, nor do their lords give them much of their society. They never dine together after the wedding-day. The women live apart from the men of the family, and there is nothing of that sweet social family inter course which, is the chief delight of home, The ladies spend fcheir time chiefly in playing cards and smoking tobacco; nor is it the delicate cigarette in which they indulge, but the pipe—yes, the same as a man’s pipe—a small brass or silver bowl, a long thin stem, and a gadestone mouth piece, or else an onyx stone. I have seen some very good-looking faces among them. Ido not think they would be at all an ugly race if they were educated, and allowed the use of their limbs; but there is an expression of va cancy and cunning, the result of their po sition in society, which spoils their pret tiest faces. And then, when you see the creature, you know it cannot walk, and that its legs are like the goat’s. The Chinese do not seem to place much reliance upon the virtue of the female sex, and will give you, as an explanation of the custom of cramping their feet, that it prevents them from straying far from home. The ordinary story which you hear | about their small feet is, that the wife of one of the emperors was discovered by her lord near the door of the apartment of one of the ministers of State ; and when ques tioned as to how she came there, she re plied, “that her large feet had carried her there against her will;” whereupon, half of each foot was ordered to be cut off, and j she, in order to cover her own disgrace, i “introduced the fashion,” which has pre-1 vailed ever since. It is, I think, the most barbarous of all customs in the world, and destroys that which is, perhaps, the chief beauty of 1 woman—the grace and poetry of her mo-j tion. These wretched beings hobble and ( stump along like lame ducks. They have | their toes, except the great one, turned ! down, so that they walk upon the heel and upper part of the foot, from the instep to the toe. How any nation can expect the bless ing of Heaven, while it destroys one of the most beautiful of its works, I cannot understand. Taxing Bachelors. A member of one of our State legisla tures has introduced a bill which proposes to tax bachelors at the rate of tea dollars per annum, the proceeds of the tax to be devoted to the support and education of poor children. This is the revival of an old and forgot ten usage. The Romans, at one period of their history, compelled all men to marry who had reached the proper age; at other periods they permitted men to purchase an exemption from the marriage tie by the payment of a fine. The Spar tan women, says Vessius, were permitted, at certain games, to seize the old bachelors present, drag them around the altar, and inflict upon their persons various marks of infamy and disgrace. In the early years of the Norman kings of England, bachelors, who were past the age of twen ty-five, were fined according to their rank. A duke was obliged to pay twelve guineas a year into the royal treasury for the priv ilege of remaining unwedded. A laborer was allowed the same freedom at the mod erate ahSual charge of one shilling. In later days, however, when the art of taxation was better understood, and peo ple were more abundant, and essays be gan to be written upon the “surplus popu lation,” bachelorhood was released from taxation, and a tax was laid upon mar-> riages. A duke was then compelled to pay fifty pounds for a license to marry, I and a common person two and sixpence. There are precedents, therefore, for the act proposed by the legislator above re ferred to. It is said, however, that so large a proportion of the body before which this tax-bill is to be laid, are young, unmarried men, that tho act has small chance of being passed, unless the young ladies who crowd the galleries bring their influence to bear. Wo hope they will duly consider the matter. Bachelorhood, us all young ladies think, and aall young gentlemen know, is the most tedious and deplorable of human conditions. That ten dollars may be to some bachelor backs the last ounce that will “break’’ them.— It is bad enough to be a bachelor, without being obliged to pay for it. In old times when a soldier was flogged, he was com pelled to pay a shilling to the corporal VOL. VII-NO. 2. j who inflicted the punishment. That, and the taxing of bachelor*) for their bachelor hood, is asking too much of human na ture. The President’s Message.—One of the profoundest propositions of the Presi dent’s Message excites a vast deal of in terest, amounting in some quarters to en thusiasm. We quote passages from the correspon dent of the New York Sunday Mercury, A Disbanded Volunteer writes : In my opinion, the dockyment over floes with ondeniable trooths. Take frin stance the follerin’ witch the President rit with his own hand, without any subjes tins on my pairt: “It is not so easy to pay something as to pay nothing; but it is easier to pay a large sum than it is to pay a larger one; and it is easier to pay any sum when we are able, than it is to pay it before we are able." Now that’s wot I call a new rinkle in finance, and when the British Chanscller of the Eggscheeker sees it, I have no doubt he will make it Jhe basis of a pro position to pay off the British national debt, afore it become so large as to be on i manageable. The buty of the remark is, that it is eqwilly sutable as a motto for a great government, and as an inskripshin inside a tavern bar whar no trust is given. Jacob Barker and the Money Changers.—Jacob Barker many years ago offered some good paper for discount ! in one of the Wall street banks, and when the board of directors met, they, after ma | lure deliberation, threw the paper out, • which displeased friend Jacob, for what .he considered rather ungentlemanly treat ment. A few days elapsed when Jacob 1 presented 840,000 of the bills of the bank, j and demanded the specie, which was roll !ed out to him in kegs of one thousand j dollars each—the teller of the bank in | forming him that they regretted that they | were obliged to give him small coin—five [ and ten-cent pieces. Here was a dilem | ma; but being equal to the emergency, j Mr. Barker requested the porter to un ! head the casks, which being done, Jacob took a handful of coin out of each, and requested the teller to place the remainder to his credit. It was said, at the time, that it required the whole available force of the institution to count the coin. Honesty in Buying and Selling.— Some are not honest in buying or selling. Their rule is, at all times, to buy as cheap | as they can, and sell as dear as they can. j This is a wicked rule. We often trade | with those who do not know the worth of the thing bought or sold. It is cheating them to make the best bargain we can.— Sometimes we trade with those who are in great want, and we fix our own prices, and make them much too high if we sell, or too low if we buy There is a fair price for everything. Let that be paid or taken for everything. He who is just and true, and who loves his neighbor as himself, will soon find out what, a fair price is. Almost all men use too many words in buying and selling, and there is almost always a lie somewhere. A couple of young ladies, having buried their father, who had an aversion to matrimony, conversing on his character, the eldest observed: “He is dead at last, and now we will marry.’’ ‘‘Well,’, said the .youngest, “I am for a • rich husband, and Mr. C. shall be my man." “Hold, sister," said the other, “don’t let us be so hasty in the choice of our hus bands ; let ns marry those whom the pow ers above have destined for us, our mar riages are registered in heaven’s book." “I am sorry for that,” replied the young est, “for I am afraid father will tear out the leaf." •9* A Horticulturist advertised that , he would supply all kidds of trees and plants, especially “pie plants of all kinds.’’ A gentleman thereupon sent him an or der for “one package of costard pie seed, and a dozen of mince-pie plants.’’ The gardener promptly filled the order by send ing him four goose eggs and a small dog." •9*'What is that which by adding something to it will become smaller, bat if you add nothing will grow larger ? A hole in a stocking.