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IN
SAMUEL wzaGEr, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXXIII; NUMBER 34.3
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EtrEtry.
Midwinter
The I.peckled eI.Y to dim with snow,
The light flakes faker and fall slow;
Athwart the hill-top, rapt and pule,
Silently drops a ri/very veil,
The far ow mountain's misty form
Is entering flow a tent of storm;
And oil the valley is sit ut in
By flickering carmine , gruy and thin
But cheerily the chickadee
Singeth to me on knee and tree;
The snow Fails round hum, as he sings,
White as the down °lunge's' wings.
I watch the snow dikes, as they WI
On bank and brier and broken wall;
Over the orchard, waste and brown,
All noiselessly they ECllle down,
Tipping the apple-boughs and each
Light quivering twig of plant and peach
On turf and curb and bower roof
The snow-storm spreads its ivory woof;
/t paves with pearl the garden walk;
And lovingly round latter stalk
And shivering stein its magic weaves
A mantle fair as lily leaves.
The hooded hee-hive, small and low,
Stands like a maiden io the snow;
And the old door-slab is hall hid
Under an alabaster lid.
All eay it snows; the ahected post
Gleams in the dimness like a ghost;
All day the blasted oak has stood
A muffled wizard of the wood;
Garland and airy cap adorn
The sumach and the way-side thorn,
And clustering spangle,. lodge and shine
In the dark tre.ises of the pine.
The ragged bramble, dwarfed and old,
Slaink4 like a beggar in the cold;
In surplice while the cedar stands,
And blesses him midi priestly hands.
Still cheerily the chickadee
Singeth to arc on fence and tree:
But in my inmost car is heard
The music of a holier bird;
And heavenly thoughts as soft and white
As snow-flukes. oil my soul alight,
llothing with love toy lonely heart.
Healing wi h peace each bruised part,
Till all my being seems to be
Transfigured by their purity.
grhttinz.
[From the New• York PoA.I
_Life in the Army.
I=l
PICKETING AND ITS DCTIES
"To shoot your enemy or to be shot by
him is the only chance you have in picket
ing," said a Sergeant one night to picket he
was posting. "Here are you, here, and
there are the Rebels, there. If you get a
crack at them first, all right; but if they get
a idiot at you first, then look out fur thun
der!" The ambiguous declaration of con
sequences aside, the remark of the Sergeant
reveals the whole philosophy of picketing.
To avoid being shot or surprised, and, per-
Imps, to shoot or surprise his rebellious
neighbor opposite, is the basis of all the
picket's cunning stratagems, sly watching,
crafty sneakings, and other manoeuvres.—
His entire service is rendered under the
stern law of meum vs. tuum, with his life as
the stake.
TOE LINE OF 017TrOSTS.
The principles of picketing aro the sonic
throughout our entire army, so that the prac.
tice which obtains in Virginia and Missouri
holds good in Tennessee and South Carolina.
As in a forward movement into the enemy's
country the commander throws out a body
of skirmishers in advance of his main force,
so in a permanent encampment does be
throw out a line of pickets, posting them,
singly or in groups, immediately in front of
the foe to watch his movements, or at least
so fur in advance of his own force as to se
cure a suitable notification of any advance
or other demonstration of the enemy. These
posts are generally within sight or bearing
of one another, and the line they form is so
*Wended as to enclose and protect the whole
body of troops to which they belong.
All natural advantages, such as trees,
rocks, narrow defiles, &e., are considered in
the selection of picket stations, and impor
tant openings and frequented footpaths near
an encampment are habitually placed under
surveillance. In active services in Virginia,
or in almost any Settled district, our picket
stations are farm-houses mills and barns,
which the enemy has deserted at the ap
proach of our troops. Around Alexandria,
at Port Tobacco, beyond Chain Bridge, to
wards Centreville, Fairfax, and other places
where our forces have been so long resident
as to boast of being natives, the picket has
taken unto himself local appointments anti
conveniences, and rendered his "peculiar
institutions" quite domesticated; frequently
occupying a comfortable house . and a good
bed, and sometimes keeping a cow or pig.—
For the picket, like everybody else, from
the disciples of the haul pliileselaie down
wards, is keenly alive to the divine "law of
compensation," as witness the pertinacity
with wbich he demands that a 'night of ex:
posure should be followed by a bottle of
whiskey!
DM
At times a single picket is placed at pOst;
and relieved every two hours, like a sentry
of the regular camp guard; but it is custom
ary for three of four men to be put'on one
station, with orders to relieve each other at
their mutual pleasure, taking care only that
ono of the three or four is always wide
awake and rendering the reqnisiter service—
the others sleeting, reading, playlog cards,
or doing - anything else- thby •please, accord
ing to the hour and the weather. Five days
is the usual period for a detachment of pick
ets to remain on duty, and three pickets is
the average number to each post, so that
while ono is on duty his two comrades may
be at leisure, each thus having two hours of
eervicee to four hours of rest. It is found
that a line of solitary pickets is not so ser
viceable as one of groups, probably because
solitude is not the normal condition of the
I biped under discussion. One picket no
sooner finds himself alone, in "dense mid
night," on a lonely post, than he absractedly
swallows tobacco-juice in such quantities as
to make himself sick, while another, under
the same circumstances, incontinently bolts
the rations of himself and comrades fur
several days. Still others are so reckless as
to eeek a sheltered and secret place and go
to sleep. For these and similar reasons, it
is customary to post pickets in twos, or in
larger groups, according to the exigencies
of the case.
THE PRAII.k OF PICKETING OPENS
We will suppose we are moving among
the advanced posts of our army in Virginia
a savoir with the outposts of Gen. McCall's
division, for it matters little where we place
ourselves as regards the duties or adventu res
we shall witness. The time is evening—a
cold, wintry night, when the sky is overcast
with a leaden canopy of clouds, and when a
thin crust of sleet and snow covers the face
of the earth and whitens the forest. The
hour is ten o'clock, when the silence of the
sleeping armies seems in keeping with the
desolation of nature, and when the picket
can hardly distinguish the forms of his foes
from the unreal beings of his apprehension.
Here we are far away from the lights which
make the city living nod pleasant in even
its sleepiest moments—far tivray from the
world of peace and all its comforts and bless
ings, and suddenly ushered upon the stern
labors and repulsive realities of the world
of war! Here we are, a mile or two in ad
vance of the tents of the advance brigade of
General McCall's division, and all around
us is silent and desolate—all silent save the
wind, and even that is a voice of desolation
—its sighing seeming at once a requiem for
the past and a moan fur the red-winged hours
which are coining.
lAikttatie Month I y
We are not alone in this sullen empire of
night. Yonder, away by that old oak which
rears its branches nakedly towards heaven,
is a figure in human form which moves slowly
to and fro. ' As we draw nearer we can see
a comrade fifty rods to Ifis rear, with the aid
of our reconnoitering night-glass, and
another comrade the same distance in front,
so that we need have no difficulty in com
prehending that they belong to a line of
pickets which stretches far away from the
approaches of Leesburg to the shore of the
Potomac below Alexandria—a line of out
posts averaging from one to three miles in
advance of those white tents which render
still whiter the snow-clad plains of Virginia.
The man we see first see is a picket on his
post—a number two man, rear rank of the
fourth group of the first section of the sec
ond platoon of Company C, Eighth Regiment.
(You may see from this statement what a
military nomenclature the man will die in
if he should be so unfortunate as to be shot!)
We perceive that he wears huge boots, a
hugo overcoat, huge comforters around his
neck, and is, on the whole, so well provided
with clothing that his mere personal would
prove him no friend of the hatless and coat
less prophets of the bogus Confederacy.—
His gun is carried at "secure arms," out of
respect for a mist in the air, but his eyes
move rapidly from one point to another, so
that it would be quite useless for a Rebel to I
attempt to sneak upon him unawares. He
is especially attentive to a thickly-wooded
knoll half a mile to the southwest of his poet
for it is there, lie can tell you, that one of his
most respected comrades was shot, only
three nights ago, by a prowling Secessionist,
while carelessly strolling about, and lie him
self is determined not to furnish another
lesson of the kind to his fellows.
The post, in this instance, is one of those
little wash-houses, besides a spring, which
are one of the peculiar institutions of the
Slave States. It is situated almost at the
foot of the old oak aforesaid, and is not far
from ten feet square, and of a height suffi
cient for the occupants to stand upright with
out trouble. A dozen rods beyond it is a
bole, surrounded by loose stones, which is
readily recognized as the former cellar of a
house which some earnest Rebel consigned
to the flames before he turned his face fuaally
towards Manassas. The wash-house itself
is charred and blackened on the outside,
showing that it was saved from the fate of
the dwelling only by the humidity of the
logs of which it is composed. The window
VIE PICKETS POSTED
TUE PICKET ON Drry
MEETS
"NO ENTERTAMMENTIS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, MARCH 22, 1862.
in one end has been closed with pieces of
logs, and a Sort of a door has been formed
of the same materials. Inside, in rude bunks
against the wall, are lying the three pickets
of duty (this detachment being posted iri
"groups," or just as they would be deployed
as skirmishers). None of them are asleep,
but are discussing the intensity of the cold,
and the several subjects of research belong
ing to the place and the hour.
NO MIRES PERMITTED TEE PICKETS
About the first of November General Mc-
Clellan issued an order prohibiting the pick
ets from having fires on their posts, for the
avowed reason that the light pointed out the
position of our pickets and forces fo the
Rebels. Dire the condemnations this order
received on the advance Posts, from the am
ateur destroyers of Virginia woods and fences
and it is to be suspected that it was more
generally honored in the breach than in the
observance. Unless the °facer in command
of the picket detachment should remain up
all night, and go around the posts every half
hour and put out the fires himself, the pick
ets can see no good reason why they should
not have thorn. Soldiers are essentially in•
dependent in their ideas. "You can't go
out of camp without a pass," said a sentry
to one in the writer's hearing. "But you
see that I can though," was the pleasant re
joinder, and the soldier passed on.
A COLD PROSPECT
As we stand on the post we have supposed
ourselves, reader and writer, to be visiting,
at midnight, on this cold winter night, it is
to be confessed that the prospect of the pick
et is not remarkably brilliant and attractive.
If he had a fire at the cabin, or in any shel
tered nook in the vicinity, he would hardly
dare avail himself of its warmth, fur has he
not been warned that the enemy's prowling
cavalry are liable to visit him atany moment?
Ile has nothing to do but to pace to and fro,
and keep himself warm as he can by his own
re3ources, and at the same time keep a good
lookout in every direction. If the cold mist
should chance to tura into a colder sleety
rain, so much the worse fur him, but be must
still keep his eyes and ears open, and per
form his allotted share of the night's work.
Were it not fur those stout gloves some
kind friend had sent him in a Christmas box
it is a question if his hands would not be so
cold that be would be unable, in case of sud
den attack, to hold his gun to the shoulder
and pull the trigger. his feet, as stout as
are his boots, fairly ache with the cold, a nd
he is compelled to cut sundry capers in be
half of his half-frozen members, which are
more violent than elegant.
TAE DIGNITY OF TLIE SENTINEL
But, for all that, be on your guard against
undervaluing the dignity of a picket or any
other sentry whatever. For he not only
has a legal power of life and death, but the
cold instrument in his hands with which to
put that power into practice. If General
McClellan, or Abraham Lincoln himself,
were to endeavor to pass that picket without
the countersign, or if those distinguished
gentlemen were to refuse to halt at that
picket's command, then their blood would
be upon their own head+ if he shot them on
the spot. In his particular province the
picket is as autocratic as the Cz tr himself.
If ho chooses to pass a colored vender of
biscuits, or a "friend" who presents him
with a bottle of old "rye" in lieu of the
countersign, who shall gainsay his wisdom?
Or, if he chooses nut to let his own Colonel
pass when he does not have tie magic word,
as sometimes happens, and if peradventure,
he shall keep that Colonel shivering at the
point of the bayonet for an hour or two,
under pretence of not knowing him, albeit
he knoweth him as well as he knoweth his
father, verily, in even this case, is the sen
try not refuged within the limits of hie just
and legal power?
"GRAND ItotsD9."
At the dead of night, in the "small hours,"
it is customary fur the officer:in charge of
the pickets to make a tour of observation
among them to see that everything is going
on as it should. On these occasions, as in
regular can•j duty, the escort of the officer
lis a file of men and a Sergeant. No sooner
does the party approach to within a few rods
of the seminal than he challenges them:—
"Who goes there?" bringing his piece to a
port. The answer is "Grand Rounds!"—
"Halt, Grand Rounds!" is the peremptory
command of the picket, and the party halts,
when he adds: "Alvance, Sergeant, and
give the countersign." The Sergeant ad
swims, and as soon as he is within five
paces the picket brings his piece to the posi
tion of charge bayonet, and the Sergeant
whispers the word as he belts immediately
in front of the weapon. The seat:; then
says: "The countersign is correct—advance,
Rounds!" and faces to the front, shouldering
his piece, while the Rounds pass on. In
the immediate presence of the enemy this
ceremonious inspection is usually omitted.
The countersign is sometimes the name of
a State, running through from Maine to
California, and sometimes the name of a
battle, as "Palo Alto," or "Waterloo," or
of a number, as twenty or forty-two.
13393E13
As the night wears on the i eport of a rifle
suddenly disturbs the silence. As will
readily be conceived, the firing of a piece
at this hour on the lines is an event, and
everybody is instantly on the alert to know
what it means. It soon turns out that one
of the pickets has accidentally shot himself,
while going to relieve his file-leaders, and
the poor fellow dies before half of hi i com
rades comprehend the nature of tho alarm.
"Accidentally shot " is a ierm often uttered
and written in the army of the Potomac,
and it really seems as if there can be no end
to tlip carelessness of the soldiers in hand
ling their weapons. There is scarcely a
regiment in the service . but has lost from
one to a half-dozen members in this most
saddening manner. The, mangled remains
are borne away to headquarters to awai t
honored burial, yet it is not certain but that
some of those most affected by the event
will meet their fate in the same careless
manner.
TIM PICKET ITEM:QUARTERS
The headquarters of ,the picketing de
tachment is an old barn or 'other building,
so situated as to 'be iq a central position
from the several posts: It is here that the
men get their meals; that the cuisine de
partment is carried on, that the officer in
charge is usually to be found, and that the
majority of the men who are off duty con
gregate. Let McClellan say what he pleases
about having fires on the posts, he has not
yet abolished the fire in the "kitchen," nor
prescribed its size, nod lo! what a consump
tion of logs and rails is therefore in progress
at these headquarters! The Lieutenant in
command is asleep, wrapped up in a Lion
ket before the fire, and many of the men are
imitating his example, so that the scene in
side of this rickety old barn presents quite a
cheerful contrast with the cold and gloom
which prevail out-of-doors.
I =I
The next shot that is fired will have a dif
ferent meaning. Jake is now on the post,
in his turn, as fiercely wrathful and wakeful
as the toothache can make him, and he sees
the shadowy horse moving against the South
ern horizon long before that horse can take
the distinct outlines of men and horses. The
instant he is certain what is coming he fires
his piece. Immediately there is an outpour
ing of pickets from the headquarters and a
lively excitement along the lines. The Lieu
, tenant is instantly on his feet and reconnoi
tering the approaching Rebel horsemen,
while quietly making his dispositions for
their reception. Like a thunder cloud they
oorne on, with here and there a flash, while
the pickets rally on Jake's post to receive
them, it being already seen that they are
not in force, but only a dozen or so daring
and reckless troopers on a scout. The ques
tion of their character is speedily decided by
a few straggling shuts they send in advance,
and a sharp volley from the pickets is the
, answer they receive.
The nest moment they rush in upon our
brave boys, striking right and left with
their long swords, but they have reckoned
without their host this time—the sad acci
dent before described having left the pickets
in a situation to quickly and intelligently
rally. For a Sew minutes there is an active
melee, the tall leader of the horsemen doing
wonders, but it is soon evident that the as
sailants are getting more than they bar
gained for, End the nest instant they com
mence a retreat in considerable confusion,
all save the three or four of their number
who will never more beat a retreat. A gen•
eral cheer breaks from the lips of the pie:-
etc. even as they proceed to raise the poor
fellow the tall trouper has cut down, and
the two or three others who have received
more or less injury in the affair, for it is an
exciting and jubilant thing to see your
1
enemy flying before you.
I=
Another cheer of delight is soon heard
along the post, for it is seen that the daring
leader of the Rebel party is going directly
across the ravine in a course that will bring
him near the advanced post number two.—
He is speedily beyond the sight of Jake, and
his comrades fading away in the gloom on
the right of his followers, but the report of
several rifles is heard a minute or two later,
and a cry of triumph from the "boys" nt
post number two announces the result. The
horse of the doomed man is seen by these
latter ascending the side of the plateau,
bounding onwards with renewed speed ri
derless! The Rebel is dead—shot through
the heart. Ile lies there, a stranger dead
among strangers, surrounded by those who
do not area know his name and who never
saw him before. lie has come for blood,
and taken it, made just such another deso
late home as his own was fated to soon be;
and these are the fortunes and the fates of
war!
UORNOIIBITIC ITITII REBEL PICKETS
It is probable that there will be no bob• I
nobbing between our pickets and those of
the Rebels along these lines to-night. But
the interchange of these courtesies is com
mon. It is decidedly comical to see two
men who have lain behind a couple of trees
or logs, on the opposite sides of a river, all
the forenoon, each seeking for an opportu
nity of putting a bullet into the diaphragm
of his adversary—it is comical, I say, to see
these same men wave a handkerchief at last
as a flag of truce, lay down their arms, and
advance to a meeting in the middle of the
river (up to their waists in water), where
they shake hands, "treat" one another, ex
change New York papers for Richmond,
and discourse most amicably for an hour.—
It is still more comical to see these same
men, the instant they get back to their res
pective posts, renew their dodging behind
the loss, and repeat their efforts to get a
good opportunity of blazing away at each
other, yet this scene is a literal statement of
proceedings the writer has repeatedly seen
on the Potomac and elsewhere.
incsET come, INCIDEZ4TB, ETC
When the Fire Zonaves first went picket-
ing in Virginia last summer, they used to
receive a great deal of attention from the
rebellious citizens in the vicinity of their
outposts, especially after nightfall. Lurk
ing around the neighborhood in the day
time, the would-be assassin was accustomed
to get the spot where the picket could be
found after dark pretty well located in his
mind, and so creep up to him, rifle or knife
in hand, to despatch him. On one occasion
a Zouave who was picketing on the Centre
ville road, suspecting that this sort of game
was to be tried on him that night, secreted
himself a short distance from the spot his
comrades had occupied during the day. As
he expected, his adversary failing to find
him in the usual spot, commenced to "feel
him out" by throwing stones in various di
rections, wherever he presumed the picket
to be. Having been duly warned by the
death of a companion of the danger of
springing up and demanding "Who goes
there?" (which question had been answered
by a fatal volley), the Zouave remained still
as death, with his rifle at half-cock, behind
the bush where he had hidden himself, and
quietly awaited results. The would-be as
sassin, after vainly endeavoring to ",tir up"
his enemy by throwing stones, finally went
in search of him, with a cocked revolver in
his grasp, looking here and there in the
bushes, and moving stealthily about in the
vicinity, until he finally stumbled upon the
hiding-place of the Zouave, when it was dis
covered on the following morning that one
of the most active and influential Secession
ists of that county had been shot dead near
the post of that same.Zouare!
Not the least of the charms of picketing
is the freedom it gives the picket, when off
duty, to rove about in the vicinity of the ad
vanced pasts, With the pass of a picket in
his pocket, it is not difficult for him to lay
the inhabitants of the vicinity—if inhabi
tants there be—under involuntarily contri
bution fur such objects as please his sharp
appetite and keen sight. A turkey or a
chicken never comes amiss to him, and a
nice sheep has an attraction fur his digits
which even that of the pole for the magnet
cannot excel. In rill his goings and com
ings the picket is e.pecially mindful of
what lie shall cat and drink, and never fail
eth to be in possession of a goodly store of
provisions which the Quartermaster's ac
counts do not mention—never, albeit he
may not have seen the color of Uncle Sam
uel's gold fur two months! Ilis great de
light is to make a descent upon some rich
old Rebel, and secure a peace offering from
that same Ivllich shall furnish his mess with
an abundance of feasting. The ono thing
he knoweth, beyond nll other knowledge, is
that n good dinner is the ptimum mobile of
soldier's valor, as it is his chiefest enjoy
ment. And if his hardships appear harder
to hint than all other hardships known to
man, so du the comforts to which ore have
referred appear snore comforting to him than
any other comforts whatever.
INECEM
Having seen the principal things to ho
seen in picketing, we will return. The way
lies through dark ravines, over slippery hill
sides, and through lonely woods all white
with snow and frost. Before we leave the
advanced posts of the army, however, we
will see the wounded picket cared fur, the
tired ones asleep, and our friend Jake shall
be relieved. We smile our adieus as we
hear hint go growling to the wash-house, de•
Glaring that he is tired of picketing, it is so
mush the same thing aver and over—a little
danger, a little hungriness, a little to cat,
a little blanket to corer one's self, and n lit
tle "leer; and then a. repetition of all the,e
littlenesses day after day, forever.
=
And yet—not "forever?" Even in the
embittered mind of this picket, as ho goes
to his rude couch, there is a speaking con
sciousness that this order of things will not
always endure. Beyond all the pains and
hardships of this service, beyond all the
darkness of these perilous times, is seen,
with the eye of faith, the day when this
arraying of man against man a hall cease,
and when our beloved and. glorious Union,
purified and redeemed, shall be still more
beloved arid glorious! the day when even
these stern and rugged picketing grounds
will be beautiful beneath the blended smiles
of summer and of peace!
From Once a Wad:
The Latest Thing in Ghosts.
As I was finishing breakfast the other day,
I received a visit from my friend Perkins,
who entered my room hastily with some pa
pers in his hand.
"I've written a ghost tale," said Perkins,
"and I want your opinion on it."
"I'll devote my morning pipe to you, I
can't afford you any more time than that;
so hand me the tobacco, and produce your
spirit." And I filled the pipe and assumed
the critic.
"The sun had set some two hours," began
Perkins, "and dark night was—"
"Ono moment," I interrupted; "is it a talc
of past or present. times?"
"Present," answered Perkins.
"Rather nn old•fashiened beginning," I
observed. "However, fire away."
"Tho sun bad set some ten hours," re
sumed Perkins, firing nw.ty as directed,
"and dark night was grail:tally extending
her reign over field and fell, when n traveler
might be perceived making his way, as well
as the darkness would permit, through one
of those immense German forests, the haunt
of the wild boar and the wolf."
$1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; 82,00 IP NOT IN ADVANCE
"What on earth was he doing there," I
asked.
"Ile had lost his way, of course," replied
Perkins.
"Sc I suppose," I saia. "Travelers al
ways do in ghost stories. But is this a tale
of the present time: pardon my inquiring
where the luggage is?"
"He left it in the chaise," answered Per-
kins.
'•Which bad been overturned, and our
traveler wished to get to the nearest town
on foot. Is not that it?"
"Of course," said Perkins with some irri
tation.
"And in order to reach the nearest town
ho turns into the nearest forest."
"Ile thought he vrould take a short cut
across country," explained Perkins.
"And after walking some distance he
comes to an old castle, ch?"
"Well!" said our author, sulkily.
"And, finding it uninhabited, lie wraps
his ample cloak around him, and goes to
sleep in the corner, does not lie?"
"Yes," said Perkins, something surprised.
"But, lie is aroused from his sleep by the
clanking of chains, and, on raising his head
perceives a figure standing in the doorway."
"Why, confound it!" said Perkins, start
ing up indignantly, "you must have seen my
manuscript."
"Which figure," I continued, "raises its
manacled arms above its head, and, clanking
ifs chains together, utters a frightful cry.—
My dear fellow, this will not do, you know;
it wont indeed. Modern readers must have
modern ghosts."
"Well! but give it a fair hearing; don't
condemn it unheard," said the author.
"Oh! read it! By all means read it," and
I resumed my pipe, and lie his story, which
was much as I had anticipated.
Originality in ghost stories is very cagy
to get. All you have to do is to imagine
some very unlikely position fur a ghost to be
in, and to put him into it. }'or instance, a
ghost in a balloon, or a ghost under water,
or a ghost sharing himself would, if I mis
take not, be all of them new. Ilere, now,
is a skeleton of a ghost-story, which I flatter
myself is entirely original.
Mr. S initials, of course. rot sonic
reason or other initials may do things that
names may not. The public allow Mr. S.
to have seen and done things, which, if as
signed to Mr. Smith, they would reject with
scorn,--Mi. S. and his"wile are staying at the
fashionable sea-side town of IL, where one
mottling Mr. S. receives a letter from his
friend B.,requesting him to come without los
ing a moment, to L., where B. is lying ill.
"Ifere's the ghost," think the public; "8., is
the ghost." A false scent is rather a judicious
thing in a ghost tale. Tho public are mis
taken. B , will live some fifty years longer,
very likely; at any rate his ghost will not
walk in t'iis story. In due course, S. ap
pears at B.'s house, and witnesses the will
or whatever it may be, fur which he was
wanted. While ho is nt dinner, the servant
I. brings him a telegraphic message. It is
from Mrs. S.— "Return at once—l have
fallen over the cliff." S. is in great agita
tion—rtturns by the night train. When be
reaches his home, M., the housemaid, opens
the dear for him.
"0:)1 is that you, Eir? Poor misses has
fallen over the cliff."
"Well, 1 know that," cries S.; "haw is
she?"
"Lem., sir," replies M., "she's been dead
ever since."
"Dead!" gasped S., "why did you not say
so when you telegraphed?"
"I never sent nor telcgrapht," says M.,
weeping
"Oh, no, I forgot. My wife sent the mes
sage, of course. She lived lung enough to
do that, did she?" asks the much agitated S.
"Missis never sent no telegrapht, I'm
sure," replies M ; "I saw her fall from the
cliff, and she never stirred afterwards."
"This is most extraordinary," says S.;
"but where is she? Let mo see her."
lie finds that there is a fearful cut on his
wife's temple, and that the left arm is broken.
When his agitation will allow him, ho again
thinks of the mysterious telegram, and as
every one in the house denies that any tele
gram was sent by them, and as every cne
asserts that it was impossible that. Mrs. S.
could have sent it, the perplexed widower
goes to the telegraph office.
"Do you remember who sent this telegram,
and at what time?" he asks the clerk.
The reply
"Yes, I remember it distinctly. It will
be a long time before I forget it. The mes
sage was sent just at the very time that
that unnhappy accident happened nt the
cliff; and the person who sent it was a deadly
pale lady, with a fearful cut on the temple,
and whose left arm hung by her side as if
broken."
S., with a forthl shudder, rushed from
the office. There can be no doubt about it.
Mrs. S.'s ghost sent the telegram.
There! I consider that I have capped the
the ghost in the railway carriage now. My
ghost tale is positively the last out. The
only merits that I can claim for it, however,
are these. It is short, which, I take it, is
one of the greatestmerits that aghost story
can have. It shows progress—the latest
improvement in ghosts being their traveling
by rail; my ghost goes a step farther, and
telegraphs. And it does not pretend to be
true. I candidly confess that there is not a
word of truth in it from begining to,end.
[WHOLE NUMBER 1,645.
WAR NEWS!
GEN. NceLELL&N TO HIS ARMY
A STIRRING ADDRESS
IIEADQUARTERS AR7ty OF TUC POTOXA.C,
FAIRFAX COURT HOUSE, VIRGINIA.,
March 24, 1862.
Soldiers of the Army of the Polon:at.:
Fur a long time I have kept you inactive
but not without a purpose. You were to be
disciplined, armed and instructed. The
formidable artillery you now have had to be
created. Other armies were to more and ac
complish certain results. I have held you
back that you might give the death-Wow to
the rebellion that has distracted our once
happy. country. The patience you have
shown and your confidence in your General
are worth a dozen victories.
These preliminary results aro now accom
plished. I feel that the labors of many
months have produced their fruit. The army
of the Potomac is now a real army, magnifi
cent in materiai, admirable in discipline
and instruction, excellently equipped and
armed; your commanders are all that I could
wish. The moment fur action has arrived,
and I know that I can trust in you to save
our county. As I ride through your ranks
I see in your faces the sure presage of vic
tory. I feel that you will do whatever I ask
of you
The period of inaction has passed. I will
bring you now face to face with the Rebels,
and only pray that God may defend the
right
In whatever direction you may move,
however strange my actions may appear to
you, ever bear in mind that my fate is linked
with yours, and that all I do is to bring you
where I know you wish to be, on the
decisive battle-field. It is our business to
place yon there. I am to watch over you
as a parent over his children, and you know
that your General Lives you from the depths
of his heart. It shall ho my care, as it has
over been, to gain success with the least
possible loss, but I know that if it is neces
sary you will willingly follow me to our
graves for our righteous cause.
God smiles upon us, victory attends us,
yet I would not have you think that our
aim is to be attained without a manly strug
gle. I will nut disguise it from you that
you have bravo foes to encounter—foemen
well worthy of the steel you will use so well.
I shall demand of you great and heroic
exertions, rapid and long marches, desperate
combats and privations. Perhaps we will
share all these together, and when this sad
war is over we will all return to our homes
and feel that we can ask no higher honor
than the proud consciousness that wo be
longed to the Army of the Potomac.
Gronac B. INIcOvELLAN,
Major• General Commanding.
THE CAPTURE 01? NEW MADRID.
GENERAL POPE'S REPORT.
THE PANIC AMONG THE ENEMY
An Immonse Quuntity 01 Spoils Captured.
Sr. Louis, March 15—Genern1 Pope is
his despatch to General llalleck, says:
"Our success at NOW Madrid was even
greater than first reported. Twenty-fire
pieces of heavy artillery-24-pounders and
rifled 32 pounders; batteries of field artillery;
immanse quantities of fixed ammunition;
several thousand small arms; hundreds of
boxes of musket cartriages; 300 mules and
horses; tents sufficient for an army of
12,000 men, an 1 an immense quantity of
other property of not loss value than one
million dollars have fallen into our bands.—
The men only escaped. and the enemy's
whole force are demoralized and dispersed
in the swamp on the opposite side of the
river.
The enemy abandoned their works so
hurriedly ns to leave all the baggage of the
officers and knapsacks of the men and their
dead unburied. Their supplies were found
on their tables, and candles burning in
their tents. A furious thunder storm
which raged all night enabled them to get
across the river without being discovered.
Our hoary battery was established during
the night of the 12th within 8O yards of
the enemy's works, and opened at daylight
on the 13th inst., thirty-four hours after the
guns were delivered to us at Cairo.
During the whole day of yesterday our
lines were drawn closer around their works
I under a furious fire of sixty pieces of artil
lery. Fear of an assault on their works at
daylight induced them to flee precipitately
during the night.
Many prisoners have been taken and the
colors of several Arkansas Regiments. Our
loss is about fifty killed arid wounded.
Captain Hollins was in command of the
Rebel fleet, and Generals McCann, Stewart
and Gantt of the land forces.
The gunboats retired down the river.—
Gen. Popo has now twenty-five heavy guns
with two defensive works of the enemy.
which command every point of the river.
The Evacuation of Kew Madrid, Also of
Island Ni). 10.—The Official Account.
The following despatch from Cairo has
renehed the Navy Deriartmeut:
CAIRO, March 1.4.—F10g Officer Foote left
here at 7 A. M., to-day. with the ftottilla
and the mortar boats, for down the river.—
Ile was last heard from when he was about
to leave Columbus.
A despatch has bees received here from
Gen. Pope, saying that New Madrid was
evacuated last night in the storm.