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Volume XXV. No. 83.
THE PORT TOBACCO TIMES, And Charles County Advertiser, . / .IS PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY BY B. WELLS, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. TBRMSi Two Dollars per Annum, Payable In ad vance. (ii.SO If not in advance, ADVERTISING RATES.—For plain matter, One dollar per square for the first insertion. — ♦'or rule and figure matter, two dollars per Xire for the first insertion. For each insertion r the first, fifty cents per square. Eight lines Xox that apace occupied) constitute a square. If the number of insertions be not marked on the advertisement, it will be published until Car bid, and charged accordingly. The privilege Of annual advetisers extends only to their im mediate business. Obituaries, tributesof respect,calls upon per sons to become candidates, &c., inserted as ad yerfiseinonls, at the usual rates. Marriage notices H cents, * Communications, the effect of which is to pro mote private or individual interests, arc matters •f charge, and are to be paid for at the rate of 50 cents per square. . CORTLAN &CO-, 816 & 218 Baltimore st., Baltimore, Md., IMPORTERS. Hill BLASS Ai EARTHEBffARE, Table Cutlery, and Family Hardware, PLATED TEA & COFFEE SERVICES, Fork.*, Spoons, Casters St Butter Tubs, Britannia and Block Tinware, FENDERS, SHOVEL AND TONGS, AND A STANDARDS. • • • AND ? HOUSE-FURNISHING GOODS . OF EVERY VARIETY. • / The Goods have all been selected from the moat celebrated makers, and are guaranteed to bo first class in QUALITY, new in PAT TBMff, aid beautiful in DESIGN. The bought Mucu under lor* on account of the depression in trade, will ba offered to customers at a cor responding reduction. COHTLAN & CO. aue 20—6 m GEORGE C. HENNING. DEALER IN CLOTHING AND FURNISHING GOODS, No. 511 Seventh St., Intelligencer Building, WASHINGTON. D. C. All Goods are marked in plain figures, and sold for one price oisriLrsr. Clothing to fit all ages from two years, ready-made, or made to order. The stock is one of the largest to be found in the District, nearly all of it made up for Mr. 11. ■■ Persons ordering by mail, need only state the style, color and price desired. Sep. 3,1868—6 m BOOTS AND SHOES. FALL AND WINTER TRADE. 1868. 74---"‘*‘‘“" KlNG STREET 74 ALEXANDRIA, Va. Hi ■ • —. „ . subscriber has now on hand and can af ford to sell at prices to suit tb e times one of the largest and best assorted stocks of fine goods tor Gentlemen, Ladies, Misses and Children, usd heavy work suitable for Farmers, ever be fore offered for sale in this market. His long experience in the trade has enabled him to pro sure a stock manufaefured from the best mate lid ted in the most durable and stylish man ner, and on the most favorable terms, and with inch Advantages he can afford to sell as cheap te the cheapest. All in want will do well to call at 74, King street, before purchasing. His stock comprises in part— Ilea’s Kip Boots, suitable for Farmers. Men’s Calf Double-sole Pegged and Stitched Beoteh bottom Boots. Boy*’ Youths’ Calf and Kip Double-sole Boots. Ladies’, Misses’ and Children’s Calf, Goat, Morocco, Glove Kid, Turkish Morocco and Lasting Boots of every style and description. Men’s. Ladies’, Misses’ and Children’s Gum Shoes. ~= Also, a good stock of goods suitable for country, merchants, to which we invite their attention,/ ; W, B. WADDEY, sep 17—3 m NOTICE. riIHE undersigned has on hand, for sale, a X good lot of Hogshead Siding, Hoops and Heading. Also Plank and Wheel wright Stair P. A. SASSCER. je 30—tf ®fie Port ®o h arro ®imes griictefc FRIENDSHIP. BY ALFRED TENNYSON. Dear friend, far off, my lost desire, So far, so near, in woe and weal; 0, loved the most when most I feel There is a lower and a higher; Known and unknown, human, divine I Sweet human hand and lips and eye, Dear heavenly friend that canst not die, Mine, mine, forever, ever mine ! Strange friend, past, present, and to be, Loved deeplier, darklier understood ; Behold I dream a dream of good, And mingle all the world with thee. Thy voice is on the rolling air; I hear thee where the waters run; Thou standest in the rising sun, And in the setting thou art fair. What art thou, then ? I cannot guess; But though I seem in star and flower To feel thee, some diffusive power, I do not, therefore, love thee less; My love involves the love before; My love is vaster passion now; Though mixed with God and nature thou, I seem to love thee more and more. Far off thou art, but ever nigh ; I have thee still, and I rejoice ; I prosper, circled with thy voice; I shall not lose thee though I die. THE GIFT OF LOVE. “Give me,” I said, “that ring Which on thy taper finger gleams ; Sweet thought to me ’twill bring, When summer’s sunset beams Have faded o’er the Western sea, And left me dreaming love, of thee !” “Oh, no !” the maiden cried, “This shining ring is bright but cold ; That bond is loosely tied Which must be clasped with gold I The ring would soon forgotten be; Some better gift I’ll give to thee !” “Then give to me that red rose,” Said I, “which on thy bosom heaves, In estaciee repose, ' ’ * —A— And droops its blushing leaves; If thou wouldst have me think of thee, Fair maiden, give the rose to me.” “Oh, no 1” she softly said, “I will not give thee any flower; This rose will surely fade— It passeth with the hour; A faded rose can never be An emblem of my love for thee I” “Then give me but thy word — A vow of love—’twere better yet,” I cried: “Who once has heard Such vows can ne’er forget! If thou wilt give this pledge to me, No ring nor rose I’ll ask of thee!” “Oh, no!” she said again; “For spoken vows are empty breath, Whose memory is vain When passion perisheth; If e’er I lose my love for thee, My vows must all forgotten be 1” “Then, what,” I asked, “wilt thou 0, dearest! to thy lover give ? Nor ring, nor rose, nor vow May I from thee receive; And yet some symbol there should be To typify thy love for me!” Then drooped her silvery voice Unto a whisper soft and low ; “Here, take this gift—my choice— The sweetest love can know !” She raised her head all lovingly, And smiling gave a kiss to me I fdjjiiml The Character of little Nell—Dickens’ “Old Curiosity Shop.” BY C. SUE MONROE. [The following is a school girl’s “composi tion.” We think it well worth publishing:] Probably in the whole range of Eng lish literature, there cannot be found an imaginary creation, or a real biography that so strongly fixes our attention, excitCJ our sympathies, and awakens our affec tions, as the narrative of Little Nell, — From the very outset of the story there is an almost irresistible influence that draws us toward her, which goes on increasing to the end. We love the pure and less child shat up in the gloomy old house with its musty relics and faded curiosities, and our affection and pity know no di urination in any stage of her subsequeol wanderings. We follow her from the morning when she and the imbecile ole man steal away from that bouse whos< rooms are filled with “fevered dreams,’ and not alone, through the deserted, cheer less streets, do we accompany them, bui i through all their roamings, with eager in tercet and solicitude; and iu each success ive incident of their weary pilgrimage wt AND CHARLES COUNTY ADVERTISER. PORT TOBACCO, MARYLAND., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 18,1868. learn some lesson of patience, fortitude and truth. ♦ The weakness of the old man excites our sympathy; but we would many times, notwithstanding bis enfeebled condition, look upon him with feelings of the strong ■ est aversion—despise him as the author of Nell’s misfortunes. Rut every time we | are tempted to do so her gentle pleading 'eyes seem to look beseechingly up, and, iin tones whose tenderdess reproaches us for our unkindness, say : “Do not speak harshly to him. He is a weak old man. God bless him. He has only me to help him now. God bless us both.” We can not resist her entreaties; and so, at last, her anxieties and cares become ours, and we seek to share them in every circum stance of her strange life. At times, it is true, our resentment is rekindled, when some mad act of her grandfather precipi tates her into greater difficulties. We momentarily feel like separating them, and, plaoing Nell in a position of ease and comfort, leave the old man to plod on his way alone. But “neither of us could i part from the other,” says the sweet voice of the child, “if all the wealth of the world were halved between us.” Nor could we for a moment, when we see the noble self-sacrificing devotion of her young heart, desire to part them. No—no—we learn to love the great truths taught by the example of the lovely child, and our hearts becoming softened by higher, ho lier perceptions of our duty, one to anoth er, we pity the old man; and in the great est extravagances of his imbecility would aid Nell in the promotion of his happi ness. How beautifully, in her character, does the author illustrate the true greatness of the soul. How faithfully does he portray true charity. He does not show us one from the more favored walks of life—one who has means and influence with which to fuueitvrtUe the twtnmi-Jh ©f ikSh ing—not one who distributes gold with ostentatious liberality—nor one who talks much of the poor, and makes long pray ers in their behalf, and asks God’s bless ing upon them ; no, not one with even a home. But a poor child—one who often’ has not a crust of bread to appease the gnawings of hunger. A child who for all this exhibits traits of character which all the gold of earth could not purchase. One who, carrying out the principle of love which God has implanted within her, sacrifices her own comfort through many trying scenes—nay, her life is premature ly closed in trying to promote the good of another. Oh, ye, who live in wealth, and every day set down to sumptuous feasts while the miserable poor are dying around you—look at this, ye, who would dole out your charities to the unhappy ones of earth, learn a lesson from the sim ple story of this child. Who shall say how many there are like her, who, in their quiet sphere, walk the earth to bless it? Who shall say how many like her, in their humble way, scatter flowers of truth along their path to heaven ? Who shall say how much of good is developed among the poor around us every day, which we in the pride and indifference of our hearts • never heed? Who shall say how many there are along life’s journey, whose rag ged garbs conceal the existence of angels? ' Oh, let no one spurn the weary, foot-sore 1 wanderers of earth —they are God’s pil grims—and he who would help them will be rewarded bye and bye—he who would . turn them away may, hereafter, —when ] their journey is over, —long to know . them. a There are few, indeed, who read the y story of Little Nell, who do not feel like 2 aiding her; but this, in many cases, is - because a master-hand paints the beauties -of her character. There may be many a s round us, in real life, whom we spurn s from our doors, as much deserving pity g as she. There is not one we imagine who - does not bless, with true earnestness, even k ’ e all who render assistance to the child and i, her grandfather. There are one or two, i- indeed, whose kindness to the wanderers it makes us long to tarry awhile and become e better acquainted. Who, for example d does not sigh, and perhaps let fall a teai ie when the poor travellers bid farewell tc ” the good old schoolmaster ? Who would •- not gladly try to persuade them to retnait it a few days, to comfort him in bis bereave i- ment? Who does not wish to take the s- good man's hand and thank him for hie e kindness-so pure and disinterested —te ! Nell and her grandfather? And who does not rejoice withthe child when long , | afterwards she finds, when almost ex hausted, in the supposed stranger, the no jhie noble-hearted schoolmaster? Wo feel, I when they meet aga>u, that her greatest . i trials are past, henceforth her way will be J easier. Thank God that on the world’s just highway there ave such hearts to help | the miserable over the rougher stages of ( ■ their journeyings. Thank God for such . schoolmasters to tea- h earth’s wanderers : their pathway home ' j Next to the school-master, the one who jiuost merits our that ks for his kindness to Nell and her singula charge, is the fire man who takes them from the cheerless streets, on that night of storm, and gives ( them the best shelter he has to offer, though but a heap of ashes before that fire which contains so many strange his ; tories. His whole Ufe—after his boyhood was past —spent in weaving fancies by the [ blazing furnace amid the crashing of ham , mers and the roar of machinery, he knows L but little of the great world outside—but , yet his heart is open to the cries of the . needy. Ostentatious philanthrophy mast , blush with shame to see such charity as „ his. The coarse loaf he divides with them , ere they pursue their journey through 1 that barren country —a waste of manufac , tories —where rural beauty bad long ago . died and now slept beneath great piles of blackened dust and ashes, may be as wor thy in the sight of God, as though it were a royal banquet. And when, after part [ ing, he calls them back and places in Nell’s hand those ti o worn copper pieces bow are our hearts noved to admiration. , Well may the authoi say that gifts like' p this are doubtless acceptable in angels’ r eyes as those that are chronicled on tombs. ; But notwithstanding the interest aw*k , ened throughout Nell’s journey, the clos ing scenes in the cid church-yard must time of her arrival there, a new and , stronger influence draws us to her. In that quiet place marked everywhere by the evidences of the hand of death, we t feel from the first that there springs up a companionship between her and the an , gels guarding the resting place of the . dead. And when, impressed with the so -1 lemnity of the place, she clasps her hands in the earnestness of her emotions, and p tells the old schoolmaster “it is a quiet, happy place, a place to live and learn to r die,” the beauties of her nature seem to ripen into purer, holier virtues, and we p feel that her journey of life will soon be over. Whether in her visits to the gloo jmy old chapel—in her walks and labors in the churchyard, where sleep those who | are done with the toils of earth, —in her , strolls through the village and in country places—in that quiet, quiet house where 7 in every place the hand of decay is doing r its work of destruction, we feel the solici -2 tude of the little boy who tells her in his simple, artless way of what he has heard. “Why they say that you will be an an ’ gel,” he sobs, “before the birds sing a g gain.” And then, in all the earnestness j of his childish heart, he appeals to her, g and how truly do our hearts unite in the P entreaty, “You must not be one, dear Nell, they never come back to talk or play 9 with us. You won’t be one, will you?— s Don’t leave us, Nell, though the sky is bright. Do not leave us. Why would j you go, dear Nell ?” But Nell, giving j him no answer but sobs, he tries to be come resigned, and commends her, if she v must go, to his brother Willie who went there long ago and never returned. Then clasping her round the neck he tells her he will try to bear his loss when she goes away to be an angel, and will think that she and Willie are happy together. But Nell’s promise gives him hope. “I will be with you as long as heaven wills it,” Q she sobs, “indeed I will.” Ah! what a straw was this to support a sinking hope. As long as heaven wills it. Yes, and u ® heaven’s time of making its demand is al most come. Her fitness is almost cora ’ plete. Those happy changes affliction has wrought will soon lead up to immor tality. That quiet, patient, steady hope of an existence in whose mansions no T fevered dreams, no brooding cares are found—where no homeless wanderers plod on, from day to day, with bleeding feet, and ask for alms—where death is power less, and where no graveyards, with their e still, dumb tenants, loom up on every 8 i highway with solemn warnings of the o' brevity of life—will soon be fulfilled. The time comes at laat. Gorgeous robed and beautiful ones, sent from heaven, are waiting in the tottering old house, though its inmates know it not— ' waiting to bear her home. With a slight ‘ struggle the soul quits its frail dwelling place, and free, and happy, is guided by j angels up to heaven—while songs of joy j fill the celestial world with melody.— 1 Then, and only then, the gaunt skeleton form of Death comes out from its dark hiding place among mouldy tombs and claims the body; tho sweet spirit of the child is with its God. I will close with an extract from the author’s reflection on her death. “Oh, it is hard to take to heart the lesson such deaths teach, but let no man reject it, for it is one that all must learn, and is a mighty universal Truth. When Death strikes down the innocent and the young from every fra gile form from which he lets the parting spirit free, a hundred virtues rise up in shapes of mercy, charity and love, to walk the world and bless it. Of every tear that sorrowing mortals shed on such green groves some good is. born, some gentler nature comes. the Destroyer’s steps there spring up bright creations that defy his power, and his dark path becomes a way of light to Heaven.” gelettek HwciUamj. REVERDY JOHNSON. Personal History and Peculiarities—His Mission to England. The Washington correspondent of the St. Louis Democrat give the following in teresting personal history of Revcrdy Johnson: The old legal and social acquaintances of Mr. Johnson say this (I quote the ex act words, very nearly from a leading lawyer of Frederick): ptdrfteoa. cater Gpifcin England merely as an advocate. He went there to settle these Alabama claims, and he means to do it. Johnson took him for the place, knowing his power and familiarity with English statesmen, and Reverdy has been quietly establishing a social and profes sional correspondence with that side for these fifteen or twenty years—not with this particular design in mind, of course, but with the intent to distinguish himself, some day, in patriotic diplomacy.” “Does Mr, .Johnson love the English people?” I said to the same gentleman. “Yes, we all do —the gentlemen, that is, of old English descent in the former colonies of Maryland and Virginia. Eng land has no such friends as the lawyers of the Maryland bar —students of her com mon law. At the same time, Reverdy is a stout American patriot. He took a musket as a private soldier at the battle of Bladensburg, in the volunteer company of William Pinckney, and a shot fired over his head (for he is a low man in sta ture) killed a tall man directly behind him. “Yes, sir! Reverdy is a thorough pa triot. His attitude at the beginning of this war was as resolute as a prize fight er’s. He is a perfect bull dog even at his age of seventy-five, and would fight a duel to-day as quick as he would eat.” MR. JOHNSON A3 A FIRE-EATER. I find that I cannot write the story of Mr. Johnson with the spirit it should have, unless I give the name of my chief infor mant, and this I am not authorized to do. Sufficient it is say that he is a cotempora ry at the bar and a kinsman of Mr. John son; a secessionist and a political oppo . nent of our Minister Plenipotentiary.— Thus much expressed, let me continue this sketch in the conversational form in which it occurred. “Mr. Johnson, you say is a fighting man ? I thought Lis remarkable trait was his want of moral firmness and bis abid ing amiability.” “The two things are consistent. Most men with moral weakness accept a physi cal quarrel as an escaped. I mean that Mr. Johnson, with a pervading disposi tion to be agreeable and have no violence, is a fire-eater in physical brawls. At his age he would challenge any man to-day who impugned his faith in his diplomacy. Of course he cannot take notice of “news paper criticisms.” “Did he ever fight ?” “I am not aware that he did, hut after the failure of the Bank of Maryland, in which his name was associated with much reproach, Mr. Johnson challenged a num ber of people and permitted none to es ! cape without apology. He lost his eye, you know, because of a duel.” , “How did he lose that eye, sir?” | “Well! a North Carolina Congressman named Stanley, had been bull-ragging 1 Henry A. Wise, with the determination ■ to make the latter fight or be frightened. •; Wise finally resolved to suffer this thing j : no more, but to bring it to a head. So, > at a horse-race near Washington city, he ; rnn his horse violently against Stanley’s, and then, pretending to believe that Stan ley was tho aggressor, turned sharply round and cut the latter with a stick.— t Stanley had to challenge Wise, of course, and he went to Revsrdy’s neighborhood, near Baltimore to learn how to use the pistol. Some say Reverdy was teaching jhira. At any rate, Reverdy went out to see him fire one day, Stanley’s bullet I struck a tree and glanced, -ehot Reverdy jin the eye, brought him down and nearly killed him. He lay in bed a long while, his life despaired of. The friends of Stan ley and Wise stopped the duel, and Rev erdy’s misfortune was kept out of the pa pers.” “Does that lost eye give Mr. Johnson any trouble now-a-days ?” “Yes, sir. A cataract has formed over his other eye, and ho is next to stone blind. They show him a good deal of at tention in England (I get letters from him,) and he says that in the galleries of noblemen and gentlemen they show him a good many paintings. With the old fel low’s plausible amiability, he replies that they are beautiful, but he says he never sees anything at all.” reverdy’s wife and family. “Was Reverdy Johnson a handsome man before he lost his eye ?” “No! He never was handsome. But his wife, RJary Bowie, who is now with him in England—she and his son Ed ward, the latter not very bright—was the most beautiful woman in Maryland. She was the daughter of Governor Bowie, an old Governor of the State, a relative col laterally of the present Governor Bowie, and also of James Bowie, the inventor of the Bowie knife. She met Reverdy at a party in Prince George’s county, not more than twenty miles from Washington, and it was a clear case of love at first sight. She was poor and so was he, but both were eminently and gently connected.—7 Reverdy owes all he is to his wife* as his brother John, the Chancellor of Maryland, deceased, has often told me; for she is a beautiful, faithful, spirited, and ambitious woman, and has kept him steady and ear nest all Iris days. They have forty-odd grand children, and have had about ten children. This is their second visit to England, having gone thither years ago, when Mary Johnson was still handsome, ‘and attracted much attention. At that time Reverdy was United Stites Senator, and Lord Lyndhurst and many English noblemen were particularly attentive to him. lie named his fine estate near Bal timore city Lyndhurst, on his return, and has been visited there by many English gentlemen and noblemen.” “Can you recall by whom?” “Well! I remember notably that a friend of mine introduced to him Lord and Lady Araherly, the former the sou of Earl Russell, and as Mr. Johnson was intro ducing them, to various Senators, it was mentioned to him that Lady Amberly was the daughter of Lnrd Stanley; cousin, I believe, to Lord Stanley, Earl Derby’s son.” Said Mr. Johnson: “I have just receiv ed a letter from Lord Stanley, of Haugh ton Hall (now English Minister of For eign Affairs.”) “Why!” said I, “this is the Secretary with whom Mr. Johnson is now treating for the Alabama claims!” “The same! Lord Stanley and Mr, Johnson are old acquaintances and corres pondents.” , reverdy’s father and portion. “Had Reverdy good opportunities in early life ?” “Socially, yes! His father who came originally, I think, from Allegany county, was John Johnson, Chancellor of the State of Maryland, one of the best judges in equity that any State ever had. Rev erdy says that he ascribes bis legal success largely to the fact that he used to try cases before his father. Reverdy’s younger brother, also a John Johnson, was the last Chancellor that Maryland had. He , has been dead about twelve years.— John Johnson was a copy of Judge Roger Taney, without Taney’s calibre, an excel . lent Judge. Reverdy Johnson was edu cated at St. John’s College, Annapolis, where he was born, began practice there, went early to Baltimore, and rose to the . head of Iris profession. He was left little money by his father. At present ho is well to do, perhaps rich. He has a good deal of Webster’s carelessness about his business accounts. Politically, he has been , every thing—Whig, Democrat, Know- Nothing—and at present has no hold up on the State of Maryland, having been . guilty of flagrant inconsistency of pro nouncing the reconstruction acts uncon stitutional and then voting for their adpp ■ lion. He says he did this to keep harder t terms from being imposed, but the people , ‘don’t see it.’ “Reverdy is a hearty but plain liver. . He mixes a whisky toddy before dinner, drinks half, eats, finishes the other half, and then takes a nap. He can then get up and write and prepare a brief all night. 1 “I will tell you an anecdote. Tom r Quinn* used to be doorkeeper to the House 1 of Delegates at Annapolis, and also crier .| to the Court. He was a popular fellow r I ’l * The old doorkeeper’s name was John ; he ’ : was very boisterous in his manner, full of bur i ’mor and joke, and generally known as Jack , i Quinn. —Ed. Times. Terms: $2, in advance. with the lawyers, and assumed familiari ties. We used to pay him five dollars apiece when we were admitted to the bar. One day Tom Quinn walked up to Rever dy, slapped him familiarly on the shoul der, and said; “Rev. I guess I’ll take dinner with you to-day.” “Very well, Mr. Quinn. Come din,e with me, sir!” Arrived at Reverdy’s house, where only Mrs. Johnson was at home, Tom Quinn beheld upon the table a piece of corned beef and a dish of cabbage. Tom’s countenance fell. "Mr. Johnson,” he said, “you lawyers must be getting rich.” “Why, Mr. Quinn?” “ Weil, you get good fees, and it seems to me you have very small expenses I” betebdy’s house torn down. “What was the occasion of the Baltir more mob tearing down Mr Johnson's house, sir?” , “Oh! that was thirty or forty years ago. Reverdy was a director of the Bank of Maryland. The bank failed, and it was the popular presumption that the di rectors bad loaned the money to them selves, and failed to pay it Up. Excite ment ran high against Reverdy and others. The mob assembled before his fine boose, next door to the present Barnum’s Hotel, and levelled it to the ground. Sttitswcre brought to test the relative responsibility and criminality of the directors, and Nel son, afterwards Attorney General of tb United States, rival and no great friend to Johnson, prosecuted them. He said, in conclusion, that the Maryland Bank was found to be really the property of a single man, who used the names of other directors, and that Mr. Johnson was blameless. The Legislature of Maryland afterwards appropriated money to build up Reverdy’s dwelling.” “Reverdy is a good name; where did he get it?” . “From his mother’s Ghiloon. Both his ancestors were Scotch,!! Reverdy is a laWVeRt: 5 “Mr. Johnson,” said I, tp this most circumstantial informant, “is koowt) to everybody as a great lawyer. Wherein lies his power?” ■ “In the Agsipkce he. Jfcv&j with the common law; equally the statute law; and in nisi prtiit cases | before a jury he is terrific. No such mas ter-spirit ever tried a case in this country. John McMahon used to say that William Wirt was an idiot to Reverdy Johnson in a nisi print court. He understands the workings of human nature. He has the the rare power of controlling bis belief, so that on whichever side he happens to be he persuades himself., This gives him the absolute appearance ,of candor, and questioning a witness, be makes him say whatever he (Reverdy} pleases.... Haying worked the witness^up jo. his position, Reverdy prays the court tp instruct the jury to find according to the evidence.— Then in his speech he looks in the faces of the jury,, every element of his nature apparently invoked in an honest .cause, and justice herself almost believes him.— As a stump speaker in the open air he is not strong; in a nisi print court he is Je hovah’s armoreV. As . a constitutional lawyer be is the best living in this country. His volun tary appearance in the Dred Scott case extorted from Judah t*.Benjamin, then in the Senate, this phrase: “The decision of the court w,as supported by the ablest constitutional lawyer in America” i(Mr. Reverdy Johnson.) . ~;.i , “Then Mr. Johnson shares with Judge Taney whatever obloquy is' attached to the Dred Scott decision.” _ ‘ ‘Precisely !’* . “He volunteered iH that baSe?” - ' “Yes.”* ■ - ; “And Judah P. Benjamin is. tow. in Londoq.?” . - j “Yes.” . . “So is Mr. Johnson I” ’ * • “Yes.” v i£aF*Soma wag tells a story of -an old , gentleman whose eight os teu olerks bored , him continually with conundrums. Go s ing bothe one evening, he was stopped in front of a closed store by aicountrytoaii. 5 *‘Catt yoft teU me, toy friend, why thb I store is closed ?” ; “Go to blazes with your qonuudnims,” i cried he.„ “I’ve been bored.to death witk ■ ’em these three, weeks !” , ;,’.7 *‘r ■ . sadoxCew ••. ■ i ££Ci‘Can’t that drunkard ,be reclaim • ed by;anybody?*’ ‘ i - ■ “‘Not until he has been first claimed by • somebody.-” \ ! ■ ‘ j - . 7—' 5 £3T Jones says tbe reason why be is always so pensive is because his wife and . daughter are so ex-pensive. . . . .if:, , JSTTHere is one good wifia in the conn t try; let every man think that he hath her. •jT , g■■ j £4T To appear so, does not. prove a thing really to be so. r ~ 1 "*** T “" 1 ' j /£#“Let your aoUOna correspond with your good report. •** b i [ MSBTAn author’s wor|c ,5s not altvays I the mirror of bis mind.