I=W=Elii
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15&t-
PCTRI.IBRED..WHRY WRREIRIDAY BY •
tioorzu,'SANDERSON it CO.
H. G SBIm, J. .1!4. COOPER,
A. MORTON, Arm= SA_NDERSON.
TERMS—TWo Dollars per annum, payable in
all cases in advance.
OFFICE—Soma - wain . CORNER OF CENTRE
SQUARE.
Sir All letters on business should be ad
dressed to COOPER, SANDERSON & CO. _
gitfrratv.
A CHRISTMAS DINNER
BY CHAS. DICKENS
Christmas time ! The man must be
a misanthrope indeed, in whose breast
Something like a jovial feeling is not
roused—in whose mind some pleasant
associations are not awakened—by the
recurrence of Christmas. I l here are
people who will tell you that Christmas
is not to them what it used to be, that
each succeeding Christmas has found
some cherished hope, or happy prospect
of the year before, dimmed or passed
away, and that the present only serves
to remind them of reduced circurnstan
cesand straiteved incomes—of the feasts
they once bestowed on hollow friends
and cold looks that meet them now in
adversity and misfortune. Never heed
such dismal reminisences. There are
few men who cannot call up such
thoughts any day in the year. Then
do.not select the merriest of three hun
dred and sixty-five for your doleful re-,
collections, but draw your chair nearer
the blazing fire—fill the glass and send I
round the song—and if your room be
smaller than it was a dozen years ago,
or if your glass be filled with reeking
punch, instead of sparkling wine, put a
good face on the matter, and empty it
off hand, and fill another, and troll off
the old ditty you used to sing, and
thank•Ood it's no worse. Look on the
merry faces of your children as they sit
round the tire. One little seat may be
empty ; one slight form that gladdened
the father's heart, and roused the
mother's pride to look upon, may not
be there. Dwell not upon the past;
think not that one short year ago, the
fair child now resolving into dust, sat
before you with the bloom of health'
upon its cheek, and the gay uncon
sciousness of infancy in its joyous eye.
Reflect upon your present blessings—of
which every man has many—not on
your past misfortunes, of which all men
have some. Fill your glass again, with
a merry face and contented heart. Our
life for it hut your Christmas shall be
merry, and your new year a happy
one.
Who can he insensible to the out
pourings of good feeling, and the hon
est interchange of affectionate attach
ment which abound at this season of
the year? A Unristmas family party !
We know nothing in nature more de
lightful ! There seems a magic in the
very name of Christmas. Petty jeal
ousies and discords are forgotten ; so
cial feelings are awakened in bosoms to
which they have long been strangers ;
father and son or brother and sister,
who have met and passed with 'averted
gaze, or a look of cold recognition for
months before, proffer, and return the
cordial embrace, and bury their past
animosities in their present happiness.
Kindly hearts that have yearned to
wards each other, but have been_ with
held by false notions of pride and self
dignity, are again re-united, and all is
kindness and benevolence! Would
that Christmas lasted the whole year
through, and the p rejudices and pas
sions which deform our better nature,
were never called into action among
those to whom they should ever be
strangers !
The Christmas family party that we
mean, is not a mere assemblage of rela
tions, got tip at a week or two's notice,
originating this year, having no family
precedent in the last, and not like to be
repeated in the next. It is an annual
gathering of all the accessible members
of the family, young or old rich or poor
and all the children look forward to it,
for two months beforehand, in anticipa
tion. Formerly it was held at grand
papa's but grandpapa getting old, and
grandmamma getting old too, and rath
er infirm, they have given up housekeep
ing, and domesticated themselves with
Uncle George, so the party always takes
place at Uncle George's house, but grand
mamma sends inmost of thegood things
and grandpapa always will toddle down
all the way to Newgate-market, to buy
a turkey, which he engages a porter to
bring home behind him in triumph, al
ways insisting on the man's being re
warded with a glass of spirits and above
his hire, to drink " a merry Christmas
and happy new year" to aunt George.
As to grandmamma, she is very secret
and mysterious for two or three days be
fore hand, but not sufficiently so as to
prevent rumors getting afloat that she
has purchased a beautiful new cap with
pink ribbons for each of the servants,
together with sundry books and pen
knives, and pencil cases for the younger
branches ; to say nothing of divers secret
additions to the order originally given
by Aunt George at the pastry-cook's,
such as another dozen of mince-pies for
the dinner, and a large plum cake for
the children.
On Christmas eve, grandmamma is al
ways in excellent spirits, and after em
ploying all the children during the day
in stoning the plumbs and all that,insists
regularly every year on Uncle George
coming down intothe kitchen, taking oil'
his coat, and stirring the pudding for
half an hour or - so, which Uncle George
good-humoredly does to the vociferous
delight of the children and servants;
and the evening concludes with a glori
ous game of blind-man's buff, in an early
stage of which grandpapa takes care to
be caught, in order that he may have an
opportunity of displaying his dexter
ity.
On the following morning, the old
couple; with as many of the children as
the peiv will hold, go to church in great
state, leaving Aunt George at home
dusting decanters and filling castors,
and Uncle George carrying bottles into
the dining-parlor, and calling for cork
screws, and getting into everybody's
way.
When the church-party returns to
lunch grandpapa produces a small sprig
of misletoe from his pocket, and tempts
the boys to kiss their little cousin under
it—a proceeding which affords both the
boys and the old gentleman unlimited
satisfaction, but which rather outrages
grandmamma's idea of decorum, until
grandpapa says, that when he was just
thirteen years and three mouths old,
he kissed grandmamma under a misle
toe too, on which the children clap their
hands and laugh very heartily, as do
Aunt George and Uncle George ; and
grandrnamma looks pleased and says,
with a benevolent smile, that grandpapa
always was an impudent dog, on which
the children laugh very heartily again,
and grandpapa more heartily than any
of them. But all these diversions
are nothing to the subsequent excite
ment when grandmamma in a high
cap and slate-colored silk-gown, and
grandpapa with a beautifulliy• plaited
shirt-frill, and White neckerchief, seat
themselves on lane side of the drawing
, room fire, with Uncle George's children
and little cousins innumerable, 'seated
in the front, waiting - the arrival of the
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VOLIJME 65;
anxiously expected visitor. Suddenly
a hackney-coach is heard to stop, and
Uncle George, who has been looking
out of the window, exclaints "Here's
Jane?" on which the children _rush to
the door, and helter-skelterrdown stairs ;
and Uncle Robert and /Witt Jane and
the dear little baby, and the nurse, and
the whole party, are usherted up stairs
amidst tumultuous shouts cif" Oh, my!"
from the children, and Oequently re
peated warnings not to htirt baby from
the nurse; and grandpaPii takes the
child, and grandmam,pl4 kisses her
daughter, and the confuliqn of this first
entry has scarcely subsided when some
other aunts and uncles:, with more
cousins arrive, and tht, grqwn up
cousins flirt with each ogler, and so do
the little cousins too, for that matter;
and notliinEr, is to be heard but a con
fused din of talking, laughing, and
merriment.
A hesitating double knoOk at the street
door, heard during a mornentaqi pause
in the conversation, excites a general
inquiry of "Who's that?"'and two or
three children who have FSeen standing
at the window, announceiin a low voice,
that " it's poor Aunt Margaret." 'Upon
which Aunt George leavۥs the room to
welcome the newcomer, aid grandmam
ma draws herself up rather stiff and
stately, for Margaret li - tarried a poor
man without her consent, and poverty
not being a sufficiently weighty punish
ment for her offense, haS.beendiscarded
by her friends, and deba#ed the society
of her dearest relatives. ;But Christmas
has conic round, and the unkind feelings
that have struggled against better dis
positions during the year, have melted
away before its genial Influence, like
half-formed ice beneath the morn
ing sun. It is not difk7,mlt in a ma
ment of angry feeling for a parent- to
denounce a disobedient -child ; but to
banish her at a period of general good
will and hilarity, from the hearth round
which she has sat on many annivers
aries of the same day, .expanding by
slow degrees fronrinfanpy to girlhood,
and then bursting almo4 imperceptibly
into the high-spirited and beautiful
woman, is widely different. The air of
conscious rectitude and cold forgiveness,
which the old lady has assumed, sits ill
poll her ; and when the poor.girl. is led
in by her sister, pale looks, and
broken in spirit—not from the con
sciousness of undeserved neglect and
unmerited unkindness-wit is easy to see
how much of it is aSsumed. A momen
tary pause succeeds; ihe girl breaks
suddenly from her sister and throws
herself, sobbing on her mother's neck.
The father steps hastily forward and
grasps her husband's hand. Friends
crowd_round to offer thei4; hearty con
gratulations, and hapPiness and har
mony again prevail.
As to the dinner, its perfectly de-
lightful--nothing gots wrong, and
everybody is in the bes,t way of spirits,
and disposed to please'cand be pleased.
Grandpapa relates a circumstantial ac
count of the purchasq: of the turkey,
with a slight digression relative to the
purchase of previous terkeys on form er
Christmas (lays, which. grandmamma
corroborates in the minutest particular.
Uncle George tells stories and carves
poultry, and takes wine, and jokes with
the children at the side4able,and winks
at the cousins that are making love,
or being made love to; and exhilarates
everybody with his good humor and
hospitality, and when at last a stout
servant staggers in with a gigantic pud
ding with a sprimof holly in the top,
there is such a laughing, and shtuting,
and clapping of little chubliy hands,and
kicking up of fat dumpy legs, as can
only be equalled by I - t o e applause with
which the astonishin'g feat of pouring
lighted brandy „into mince pies, is re
ceivt.d by the youngei visitors. Then
the dessert !—and the wine !—and the
fun !—Such beautiful speeches, and such
songs from Aunt Margaret's husband,
who turns out to be such a nice man,
and. o attentive to grandmamma! Even
gran dpapa not only sings his annual song
with unprecedented Vigor, but, on being '
honored with an unanimous encore, ac
cording to annual custom, actually
comes out with a new one which no
body but grandmamma had ever heard
before ; and a young scapegrace of a
cousin, who has been in some disgrace
with the old people for certain heinous
sins of omission and commission—
neglecting to call, and persisting in
drinking Burton ale—astonishes every
body into convulsions of laughter by
volunteering the most extraordinary
comic songs that were ever heard.—
And thus the evening passes, in a strain
of rational good-will and cheerfulness,
doing more to awaken the sympathies
of every member of the party in be
half of his neighbor, and to perpetuate
their good feeling (luring the ensuing
year, than all the homilies that have
ever been written, by all the divines
that have ever lived.
.1 Hidden 'Treasure
The Emperor Maximilian, says a Ger
man journal, has a o chance of digging
out a hidden treasure. The highly ro
mantic story is as follows : When Na-
oleon the I. dethroned the Bourbons
in Spain, the Mexicani; (whose eyes had
been opened by Humboldt to the fact
that they were a 'nation of seven mil
lions, subdued by eighty thousand
Spaniards) became encouraged and
threw off the ..iparti'sh yoke. The Vice
King sent during the revolution four
millions of gold pieces, together with
other numerous treasures, to Madrid.
This happened in June, ISOS. The es
cort was attacked by one hutylred men,
and massacred, 'save one cavalry officer
and a few of his men, who acted in con
cert with the robbers. To avoid the
vigilance of the Government, the ban
dits concluded to hide the treasure in
the ground, and to divide it after the
expiration of one year.
At the foot of aprecipiceone thousand
feet high, of a hollow deep in the moun
tain was a cave. There the treasure
was dragged, the cave walled up by the
rocks, the interstices with earth and
plants, and finally a little brook was
directed so as to pass, like a cataract,
over the place. Now the robbers spread
out the minor that the whole story of
the robbery was invented by the Vice
King himself, and that he had brought
the treasures in safety. The so accused
was called to account. But the robbers
did not enjoy their treasure, for before
the expiration of the year they killed
each' other among themselves or were
defunct. A German traveller named
Muller,.celebrated by his climbing the
Pic of Orizaba, learned the secret from
the lips of an aged, dying Indian. The
Imperial Government, to whom the
place has been pointed out by Muller,
is now in search for the treasure, as the
historical facts seem to justify the truth
of the story,
the Bible.
Sitting alone in my study, I fell into a
train of reflections on the preservation
of the 13ible, and-its influence on the
history of man. Here before ma lies an
unpretending little book. What a
volume of thought does it suggest ! It
is by many centuries the oldest book in
the world. More than three thousand
years ago the first word of it was writ
ten in the desert of Arabia; more than
seventeen hundred, the last word was
written on the rocky isle of Fatmos. It
has been read by more people than all
other books in the world put together.
More of it is remembered by men than
all the books that were ever written.—
It treats of questions of the highest mo
ment to all men, and proposes to reveal
that for which the wisest °f all ages
have sought in vain—the secreof true
happiness. These very letters that pass
under my eye are the same as those
traced by the finger of God on the
tablets of stone amid the thunders and
lightning of Mt. Sinai. The language
in which the New Testament was writ
ten is the same in which Solon, Plato
and Demosthenes wrote and spoke.
This book has survived the revolu
tions and changes of three thousand
years. It has seen Ninevab, Babylon,
Memphis, Thebes, Tyre, Sidon, Car
thage, Rome, Athens, and a thousand
other cities, rise, flourish and fall. It
has lived amid wars the most bloody,
amid desolations the most complete,
• -- - -
amid tyranny the most grinding, amid
darkness the most profound, amid su
perstitions the Most degrading, amid
idolatry the most repulsive, amid blas
phemy the most heaven daring; and
has been against all these the great wit
ness of God. This book has outlived all
the efforta,made to shake the faith of
man in.its revelations and to banish it
front the world. Celsus, Prophyry,,Ju
lian, and a host of others, fiercely attack
ed it in the first ages of the Church; but it
still lived ; Hume, Hobbes, Voltaire,
Paine, and many others of the rabble
rout of infidelity, in modern times; but
it still lives, while its enemies sleep in
dishonored graves.
This book has laid hold of all classes
The warrior has carried it next his heart
in the storm of battle ; and often has
the bullet aimed at his life buried itself
in the leaves of his Bible. It has been
laid upon the throne of the monarch as
his safest guide-book in the administra
tion of justice. It has been exhalted by
the priest in the cathedral, amid solemn
chants and penitential confessions of
sin. It has been sought by the world
sick for its healing balm ; by the hermit
in his cell for its consolations ; by the
poor man for its promise of more than
earthly riches ; by the homeless wan. ,
derer for its promise of a ":home in
heaven 4" by the guilty for its assurance
of pardon ; by the living for its guiding
principles of truth ; by the dying for its
password into the " heavenly places."
This book has been given to the world
in all its babbling tongues. In more
than two hundred languages and dia
lects it is read by a sinful race. It has
long been unchained from the high al
tars of gray old temples, and sent out to
all the tribes, nations, and people of the
world ; and yet it cannot be supplied
fast enough, though a Bible is printed
every minute in the day.
This book hasb marched at the head
of civilization in all ages. It went with
the Jews into Palestine; it invaded
Greece,, Rome, and all the States of the
ancient world under the preaching of
the first heralds of the truth. Its prin
ci )les have been at the base of all revo-
lutions that have pushed forward the
human race. It was so in Germany,
England, France, and Scotland, and in
our own country. ,
The Pilgrims fled to American wilds
that they might enjoy the blessings of
Bible truth and Bible teachings un
molested and unoppressed by the laws
of tyrants. It was devoutly recognized
as a book especially needful fora people
struggling for freedom by the fathers of
our Republic. In the darkest and
stormiest hour of the Revolution, when
money could hardly be found to pay the
starving, naked, and bleeding soldiers
of liberty, Congress in 1777 appointed a
committee to confer with a printer, with
the view of striking off thirty thousand
Bibles at the expense of the Congress ;
but it being difficult to obtain paper and
type, the Committee of Commerce were
ordered to import twenty thousand from
Holland, Scotland, and elsewhere.—
They gave as the reason that its use is
so universal and its importance so great.
In 1750 Congress appointed a commit-
tee to attend to printing an edition of
the Bible in Philadelphia, and voted
that they highly approved the pious and
laudable undertaking as subservient to
the interests of religion, anti recommend
ed this edition of the Bible to the people
of the United States. In eight succes
sive years Congress voted and kept six
teen national feasts and thanksgivings.
On the committees which reported these
bills were such men as General Living
ston, of New York, li. 11. Lee, of Vir
ginia, Boger Sherman, of Connecticut,
Elias Boudinot and James Madison.
Some of these signed the Declaration of
-Independence, and most of them were
engaged in procuring the Constitution,
and knew its true spirit.
Thus was the Bible honored by these
apostles of freedom. When these chil
dren, who enjoy the fruits of their labors
shall cease to cherish Has thepalladium
of civil and religious liberty, that mo
ment will the nation. begin its down
ward march to ruin.
A Subterranean Lake.
Certain parties in boring for oil near
Chicago, have had all their hopes of
" striking ile " blasted by hitting on a
subterranean lake of water. The Chi
cago Tribune in speaking of it says :
" The water is now flowing at the
rate of about 400 gallons per minute. It
rises about five feet above the surface,
and was yesterday carried up twelve
feet by a rude experiment with stove
pipes ; with tubes properly adjusted, to
be applied in a day or two, it will no
doubt be carried twenty feet above the
surface, or about forty-five feet above
the lake level, The bore is five inches
in diameter, and the capacity of the
well is not less than half a million gal
lons daily.
" The water is very pure and clear, of
a slightly sulphurous odor. Its temper
ature is about sixty-five deg. Fahren
heit. It flows out in the cold atmos
phere clear as crystal, and runs off in a
stream large enough to carry a small
mill. It forms a most pleasant contras
to the-dead level of the prairie , and will
be of great service in beautifying the
west side with delightful fountains."
Mk . The embalmers at Washington
are doing n thriving business. They are
very fastidious, however, as to the re
gulation of their prices. For instance,
they charge $25 for embalming a private,
and for officers five dollars for each ad
ditional higher grade. In this case, at
least, the old maxim that war is a great
leveler, is not true.
LANCASTER, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, JANUARY 4, 1865.
That home seemsineomplete in which
there are no little girls to stand in that
void in the domeetic circle which boys
can never fill, and.draw all hearts with
in the magic circle by the nameless
charm of their presence. There issome
thing about little girls that is especially
lovable, (Prentice, the - wag, remarks,
that " it grows on them, too, as they get
bigger ") even their' willful, naughty
ways seem utterly void of evil when
they are so soon fdllowed by the sweet
penitence that overflows in such
gracious showers. Your boys are great
noble fellows—generous, loving and full
of high impulses—but they are noisy
and demonstrative; and dearly as you
love them, you are glad their place is
out of doors', But the little threads of
speech that flow from the innocent lips
of the angels of the household, twine
themselves around the heart, never to
rust or break, not even when the dear
little faces are hid forever among the
daisies in the church yard, as, alas! so
many fond hearts know.
But little girls must grow up to be
women, and there are long, shining
tracks from the half-latched door of
childhood, till the girl blooms into ma
ture and radiant womanhood. There
are the brothers who always lower their
voices when they talk to their sister,
and tell of the sports in which she takes
almost as much interest as they do,
while in turn she instructs them in all
the minor details of homelife, of which
they would grow up ignorant if not for
her. And what a shield she is upon the
dawning manhood wherein so many
temptations lie. Always her sweet pre
sence to guard and inspire them, a cheek
upon profanity, a living sermon on im
morality. She has scarcely any idea of
the extent of her influence. She does
not know how . far, how very far, for
time and eternity, her own pure and
guileless example goes ; how it will
radiate into-other homes where a sister's
memory will be the consecrated ground
of the past.
Cherish then the little girls, dimpled
darlings, who tear their aprons, and cut
the table-Cloths, and eat the sugax, and
break into the preserves and are them
seves the sugar and salt of life. Let
them dress and undress their doll-babies
to their hearts content, and don't tell
them " Tom Thumb " and " Red
Riding Hood" and " Jack and the
Beanstalk " are all fictions, but let them
alone till they find it out, which they
will do all too soon amidst the cold and
chilling realities of later years. Answer
all the funny questions they ask—if you
are able to do so—and don't make fun
of their baby theology, which after all is
a fair sample of the inquiries of the
finite into the purposes of the infinite.
Yes let the little fairies rollick on, with
a train of sunshine following in the
wake of their bobbing heads which
daily and hourly, have many hard
problems to solve. Humor their inno
cent little fancies, help them in . their
troubles, kiss the tears away from their
eyes, and as the fair arms entwine
around your necks, you call not but re
peat the prayer : " God bless the little
Girls !"
Mr. Yates, the novelist, in his new
work, " Broken to Harness," thus dis
courses on the character of first love.—
He regards it, itwillbeseen, as a species*
of love we never feel again in our lives:
Marvellous, marvellous time! so short
in its duration, but leaving such an in
delible impress on the memory ! A
charmed period, a (hashesh-dream) im
possible ever to be renewed, a prolonged
intoxication scarcely capable of realiza
tion in one's sober moments. A thing
of once, which, gone, never comes
again, but leaves behind it remem
brances which, while they cause the lips
to curl at their past folly, yet give the
heart a twinge in the reflection that the
earnetness which outbalanced the folly,
the power of entering into all.its fanciful
delights and of being and swayed
by them, the youth—that is it, after all;
confess it!—the youth is vanished for
ever and aye. What and whence was the
glamour, the power of which you dimly
remember but cannot recall? Put aside
the claret jug, and with your feet on the
fender, as you sit alone, analyze that by
gone time. The form comes clearly out
of the mist ; the dark brown banded
hair, the quiet; earnest eyes ; the slight,
lithesome figure and delicate hands ;
and with them the floating reminiscene
of a violet perfume, a subtle, delicate
essence, which made your heart beat
with'extra vigor, even before your eyes
rested on what they longed for. Kissess
and hand-clasps and ardent glances were
the current coin of these days; one or
either of the former missed, say at part
ing for the night, for instance, made
you wretched; one of the latter shot in
a different direction sent you to toss
sleepless all night on your bed, and to
rise with the face of a murderer, with
something not very different from the
mind of one. There were heart-aches
in those days, real, dead, dull pains,
sickening longings, spasms of hope and
and fear ; dim dread of missing the
prize on the attainment of which the
whole life was set; a physical state
which would be as impossible to your
mind now as would the early infantile
freshness to your linedcheek or the curl
ing locks of boyhood to your grizzled
pate. It is gone, clean gone. Perhaps it
snapped off short Avitha wrench, leav
ing its victim with a gaping wound,
which the searing-iron of time has com
pletely cicatrized ; perhaps it mellowed
down into calm, peaceful, conjugal
and subsequently paternal affection.
But tell me not, 0, hard-hearted
and worldly-minded bachelor, in
tent on the sublimation of self, and
cynically enough disposed to all that
is innocent and tender—tell me not, 0,
husband! hoWever devoted to your wife,
hoWever proud of your off:spring—tell
me not that a regret for that banished
time does notsometimes cross your mind
—that the sense of having lost the power
of enjoying' such two-penny happi
ness, ay, and such petty misery,
does not cost you an occassional
pang. It still goes -on that tragi
comedy, the same as ever, though the ac
tors be different, though our places are
now in the cushioned gallery among
thespectators, instead of on the stage,
and we witness the performance, not
with envy, not with admiration, but
with a strange feeling of bewilderment
that such things once were with us—
that the dalliance of the puppets, and
the liquid jargon which they speak,
once were our delight, and that we once
had the pass key to that blissful world
whose pleasures and whose sorrows now
alike fail to interest us.
Artemus Ward says he went to
Washington and put up at a leading
hotel, where, seeing the landlord, he
accosted him with :
" How d'ye do squire ?"
"Fifty cents, sir," was his s reply
"Sir!"
" Half a dollar. We charge twenty
five cents for looking at the landlord,
and fifty cents for speaking to him. If
you want supper, a boy will show you
to the dining-room for twenty-five cents.
Your room being in the tenth story, it
will cost you a dollar'to be shown up
there."
"How much do you ax a man for
breath in this equinomikal tavern?'
said L ,
"Ten cents a breath," was his reply
Little Girls
First Love
Revolution of Costaines
The London Observer hag an article
on the revolutions of costumes in the
course' of a century, and these ievolii
tions, it says, are periodical, as in almost
everything in
,this world. Froth the
beginning of this century, when dresses,
were reduced to their narrowest propor
tions, they have gradually increased in
size till they have become so nncomely
and so uncomfortably distended that it
is neither safe nor possible to wear them.
Of course this applies more to feminine
than to manly costumes ; but both are
progressing in a parallel line . on the
racing ground of fashion. Singularly
enough, the tendency toward distention
regularly coincides with the progress of
the century. When a century, for in
stance, is in its first years, civilized
humanity seems to feel young, and in
no way eager to conceal, under a pile of
garments, the beautiful forms granted
to the "lords of creation." As the
century advances in years, fashion as
sumes matronly ideas and statelynotions
quite unknown to the preceding gener
ations of beaux. And when the century
approaches toward its completion, then
all the resources, all the craft of milli
nery, tailoring, and perfumery are
brought to bear f)11 the .means of dis
simulating old age and decrepitude.
In the beginning of the century man
is not ashamed of himself. With the
sunny confidence of youth he walks in
the streets, and appear as the man of
nature. In the latter part of the cen
tury youth itself seems to delight in as
suming the appearance of old age. The
examination of any book oLcostume af
fords numberless illustrations of this in
. scrutable law of revolutions in dress,
from the middle ages down to our own
time. Writing and preaching against
fashion have in all time not only been
perfectly useless, but made the wearer
more determined to persevere in it, how
ever*. unseemly, rediculous, or even dan
gerous to wear. Some days ago three
of the demi-monde, dressed in the light
Fart - lents worn at the beginning of the
present century, appeared in the garden
of the Tuileries, and caused, as it may
be imagined, au immense sensation.
But they were not allowed to enjoy long
the benefit of being started at ill won
derment by the promenaders of the
Parisian garden. Authority, under the
form' of a three-corner-hatted sergent de
ville, expelled them from the fashiona
ble garden.
It appears that each of -them had
adopted one of the colors of the French
trbcolor. The question is to know if
the ladies were expelled for the want of
respect for the French flag, or for their
bold protestations againSt the prevail
ing fashion introduced by the Spanish
lady who resides at the Tuileries.—
There is no fear that such au attempt
will be repeated in Hyde Park, for the
simple reason that no lady would dream
of making such experiments in public.
Men's costume is naturally less exag
gerated in form than the dresses of the
fairer sex. It is also slower in its secular
development. Hats, for instance, al
though from time to time slightly mo
dified in type, keep during a century
the same general form. The eighteenth
century was condemned to the ridicul
ous three-cornered hat; the nineteenth
is doomed to the still uglier chimney
pot.,
General Foy, writing on military cos
tume, considered it an immense boon
for the soldier the superseding of the
breeches by the trowsers. He held that
the suppression of the garter gave much
more easiness to the movements of the
leg. But the opinion of Foy is no longer
partaken of by the French military au
thorities, irresistibly drawn in the circle
of revolving fashion. ; they have come
back to breeches and leggings for French
infantry. A similar attempt made by
the volunteers in England is very likely
to lead our sons, in a given time, back
to the , costume" of our fathers. As it is,
we may fairly expect.that the prevail
ing fashion of enormously distended
dresses is to prevail during the rest of
the century, in spite of all its perils and
its ugliness. Our grandmothers had
the doors of their ?.iouses raised and
enlarged to allow tile introduction of
their headdress and their hoops. Un
til such alterations , have been largely
practised in our constrrictions, carriages,
theatres, ball-rooms, there is no
chance of seeing the ante for the pre
sent bell-shaped dreiMs diminish or
begin to disappear.
Babes In the Wood
The following touching story is told
by the Melbourne (Australia) corres
pondent of the Londo4Times:
Some weeks back, at the station of
Mr. Dugald Smith, at Horsham, two
boys and a girl, aged respectively the
eldest boy nine, the girl seven, and
the youngest boy five, the children of a
carpenter 'named Duff, wandered by
themselves into the bush and were lost.
They had been sentout by their mother,
as they had often gone out on the same
errand before, to gather broom, and, not
retnning - before dark, .the parents be
came alarmed, and a search commenced.
The father, assisted by friends and
neighbors in large numbers, scoured the
country in every direction for nights
and days in vain. At length, in despair,
the assistance of some aboriginal blacks
was obtained,these people possessing an
almost bloodhound instinct in following
up the very faintest tracks. The blacks
soon come upon the traces of the little
wanderers, expatiating,as these trackers
do, at every bent twig, or flattened tuft
of grass, on the apparent actings of the
objects of their search. " Here, little
one tired; sit down; bib; one kneel down,
carry him along. Here travel all
night; dark ; not see that bush, her fall
on him." Further on, and more ob.ser-,
vations. " Here little one tired again ;
big one kneel down; no ble to rise, fall ,
flat on his face." The acturacy of these'
readings of the blacks was afterwards
curiously corroboratedby the children'
themselves. .
On the eighth day aver they were lost,
and long after the extinction of the,
faintest hope of their ever being again
seen alive, the seareb Jim party came on
them. They are described as having
been found lying all of drow on a clump
of broom among some trees, the young
est in the middle, carefully wrapped in
his sisterhs frock. They appeared to be
in a deep and notunpleasant sleep. On
being awoke, the eldest tried to sit up,
but fell hack. His face was so emaciat
ed that his lips would notcover his teeth
and he could only just feebly groan,
" Father." The youngest, who had
suffered least woke up as from a deem,
child-like, demanding, Father, why
didn't you come for us sooner ? we were
crying for you." The'sister, who was
almost quite gone, when lifted up could
only murmer, " Cold; cold" No won
der,. as the little creuturecha,d stripped
herself of her frock, as the elder boy,
said, "to cover Frank, for he was cry
ing with cold."
The children have ullsince done well,
and are rapidly recovering. They were
Without food, and, y their own ac
count, had only.one4rink of water du
ring the whole time they were out, and
this was from the..Frida,y of (Me week
until the Saturday of the next.weekr.
In *1 nine pays and_ eight njghte...
portthintsuo.
Physical Resources of the Confederacy •
• Can t4e South be Exhausted.
From the Richmond Whig, - December 221
Ths idea has been expressedabroad,
and studiously enforced at the North,
that the resources of the Cooled-out°
States as to arms-bearing men are on
the point of exhaustion. Many well-,
meaning people among ourselves haw
yielded to the delusion, not less from a
certain natural timorousness than be:-
cause of the pertinacity with which th 2
Yankees have insisted on an assertioh
so replete with encouragement and eon ,,
solution._ There can be no doubt that a
belief of this kind has had a powerful
influence in reconciling the Yankees to,
a continuance of the war; and just as
little doubtthat a fear of the samehind,
not perhaps strengthened into a belief,
has produced whatever of despondeticy
and distrust exists among our own peo
ple. And yet no proposition is I thore
erroneous than that the Confederacy is
exhausted, or even nearly exhatuded of
its arms-bearing population. On the
contrary, we have around us in profuse
abundance the material of whichatmies
are composed; in an abundane quite
sufficient to enable us not only to'inairi.-
tain ourarmies at their present standard
of effectiveness, but to put into the field
a force surpassing any that has yet been
under arms on either side. To prove
this fact we have only to refer to the
statistics of the United States census,
and compare its data with an estimate
of actual losses, and diminution of re
sources evidently sufficient to covet all
decrease in our arms-bearing men.—
The task is one of some labor; .but its
results are so satisfactory as to compen
sate amply for all the trouble bestowed
on it. Without further preface we pro
ceed to our demonstrations. The fol
lowing table shows the whole popula
tion of the Confederate States, exclud
ing Missouri and Kentucky, as' deter
mined by the United States census of
Star,
Total White. White Maiim.
526,431 2704:90
324,191 171;17
77,748 41,128
591,588 301,416
357,629 189,4548
353,901 • 186,273
631,100 313,670
291,388 146,160
826,722 422,779
421,294 228,565
1,047,411 528,842
Alabama
Arkansas.........
Florida
.Georgia
Louisiart4
Mississippi
NOrth Carolina
South Carolina.
Tennessee
Texas
Virginia
5,449,373
Of this number of males, those be
tween the ages of seventeen and fifty
are represented by the following table,
the calculations of which are based on
the " expectation of life," in the State
of Maryland, the only test we have at
hand. Whatever may be the variation
from this standard, the practical de
dtictions are quite near enough to the
truth for otrr purpose. The right-hand
column shows the number that have
arrived of age since 1860:
Alabama
Arkansas
Florida
Georgia
Louisiana
Mississippi
North Carolina.
SOuth Carolina.
Tennessee
exas
aTnia
Deducting from these numbers the
natural average mortality of four years
=that is to say, 200,000 men—and we
have a figure equivalent to to the num
ber of fighting men now remaining in
the confedracy, leaving out of account
the mortality attributable to the war.
The account thus far stands thus :
Number between 17 and 50 in 1860.....1,299,700
Arrived at 17 since 1860 331,056
Total
Deduct, natural mortality
Aggregate remainder 1,431,336
To find out the number remaining
within the actual limits of the confeder
acy and under the control of our laws,
we must make considerable deductions
from these figures. Our estimate stands
as follows
DEDUCTIONS.
Between 17. rrired 17,
and 60. since.
39,500 10,266
43,750 11,346
65,033 16,890
124,050 29,680
Arkansas one-half
Louisana, one-half
Tennessee, two-ihirds.
Virginia, one-half
Such additions as may be made to the
above, by underestimates for the states
named, and by omissions for others,
be More than counter-balanced by
recruits from Kentucky, Maryland and
Missouri, and refugees fronPother por
tions of our territory.
NOW 1N THE ENEMY'S HANDS.
..We come now to another necessary
computation, for which facilitates ought
to exist, but for which, unfortunately,
we do not possess the requisite data.
We mean the number of men killed in
battle, or who have died of disease, or
who have - been permanently disabled
by the casualties of war. : It is useless
to attempt even an approximation to
absolute precision in an estimate of this
kind. We can only assume a number
which, in all reasonable probability,
must include the true number. If we
assume, for instance, that the casualties
iv .General Lee's army for this campaign
have amounted to 85,000, we shall ex
ceed what we know to be the truth. If
we suppose of this number 5,000 to have
been killed, and 5,000 to have been per
manently disabled by wounds, we have,
for tins army, a reduction 0f.10,000. If
we assume an equal number for the
Army of the Tennessee, and still
another equal number for the other
armies .of the Confederacy, we shall
have 30,000 as the figure within which
must be included the number of killed
and permanently disabled by wounds.
Admitting extraordinary diseases—that
is to say, diseases attributable entirely•
to the military service, and therefore
not to be estimated in the ordinary
mortality—to excised the above number
by 50 per cent., and we have 45,000 as
expressive of the reduction from this
cause. Thus we have a total reduction
during the year of /54069 men. But this
year has been much mare fertil in casu
alties than either of the,fsrmer years of
the war. In the first year the losses in
battle were almost nothing. In the
second and third years they were, per
haps, nearly as large as in this.one. Let
us, therefore, adopt the followkag esti
mate of the losses incurred since the
beginning of the war
1861
1862
1863
1864
Total actual loss
From these premises we construct the
following table :
Number between 17 and 50 in 1860 1,299,700
Arrived at 17 aince 1860 331,650
Total
Deduct for ordinary mortality.
For population within enemy's
lines
Forlosses inbattle, and by unusual
diseases 225 000
Remainder
Deduct 10 per cent for exemption
for disability and other causes 86,584
Prisoners in the enemy's hands....; 50,000
Subject to military duty 729,257
Thus it will be seen that, making all
allowances for death from ordinary and
extraordinary causes, and for the dimi
nution of the area of our population,
there must be at this moment within
the Confederacy and subject to the con
trol of our laws more than 700,000 arms
bearing men. We have, in our esti
mate, made no allowance for those who
annually pass beyond the age of , fifty,
because their number is small, and,
moreover, they are still - capable of ser
vice in the reserves. Bpt wewill make
aptill further deduction of five per cent.
to cover the number of those whO have
left the country. This number summit.
lug to 66,462, is much toe huge, but it
will, serve to compensate for deficiencies
that may exist other - estimates of
probable deductions. We find, then,
at last, that we have now a force of
692,796 - fighting men. If, of those, one
out of every three be detailed for such.
purposes as the President may deem ne
cessary, admitting that the power of de
tail remain in his hands, our army in
the field should consist of 461,864 men at
least, y
or a larger force, we candidly be
lieve' than the : enemy.has.ever brought
against us at any one time. At all
events, it is much bxger than any force
we have ever had under arms, and is
amply competent not only to defend the
country, but to turn back the tide of in
vasion across the border, and to redeem
those States which have been already
overrun. Our statement however,
would not be complete without showing
the resources at our command for re
plenishing our armies. This consists in
the number of youths passing annually
from sixteen to seventeen years of age
and will be found expressed in the fol
lowing table :
Alabama 8,105
Arkansas, two-thirds
Florida
Georgia
Louisiana, one-half...
Mississippi
North Carolina..
South Carolina
Texas
Tennessee, one-third
Virginia, one-half
Total `. 62,467
From which it will be seen that our
net loss is about twelve thousand men
at the high rate assumed for this year.
The Death of Minister Dayton—Full Par
tieulars of the Sad Occurrence—Obse
quies in Paris.
Special Carresportclence of the New York World.
PARIS, December 6, 1864.
Immediately after closing my letter
of the 2d the death of our minister, the
Honorable MP. Dayton, was announced
to me. As I was not then in possession
of the full particulars of the sad event,
I have deferred an account of it until
to-day's mail.
On the evening of Thursday, the Ist
inst., after dining with his family in
unusually good spirits Mr. Dayton was
pressed by his son, Mr. W. Dayton, to
accompany him to the theater. Mr.
Dayton replied: "I would like very
well to go with you occasionally, but it
is always so uncomfortably hot in the
theatres here." " Well, then," argued
his son, "you will at least go down
with me for a walk, and take a look at
the shop windows?" Mr. Dayton con
sented, saying : " I believe I will, for
there is always something to be seen,
and if they were nearer I. should go
and see them oftener." Mr. Dayton
bade a cheerful good evening to Mrs.
Dayton, his daughter, and youngerson,
and went out with• Mr. W. Dayton, after
lighting a cigar to smoke during the
walk. Not long after going out he
threw away the cigat; saying to his son :
" I believe your mother is right after
all ; smoking does not agree with me."
On reaching the Palais Royal, Mr. W.
Dayton walked around with his father
for a short time, and he recollected af
terward that when he pointed out objects
in the windows, his father did not see
them. He thought nothing of this cir
cumstance at the time, however, and
went to the theater, leaving Mr. Dayton
to make a call on some friends who are
staying at the Hotel du Louvre. While
ascending the stone stairway which
leads to what is called the firstiloor, Mr.
Dayton feltvery much indisposed. Just
at the moment, thesub-director of the ho
tel passed and touched his hat to Mr Day
ton. Mr. Daytonsaid,confusedly : "I am
not well," and mentioned the names of
two persons whom he knew in the
hoteL The name last mentioned was
that of a lady, Mrs. E., who occupies an
apartment just at the head of the second
stairway. To her drawing-foom, there
fore, Mr. '
Dayton was directed, the sub
director going with him, - but thinking
his indisposition a slight one, left him
immediately upon reaching the door.
When he entered the room, Mrs. E.
came forward to meethim. He stretched
out his hand, which she took, thinking
he meant to shake hands with her. He
said " I don't mean to shake hands ; I
am blind ; lead me to a seat." He said
this laughingly as if it was an odd sort
of surprise to him to find himself so
suddenly indisposed. Mrs. E. led him
to a sofa when he complained of a vio
lent headache, and asked for some
thing to relieve it. The ordinary
restoratives were immediately ap
plied—eau de cologne, camphor,
vinegar, etc., and in a few minutes he
declared himself entirely relieved. As
soon as he was better, he said : " You
have not said anything about Mr. Lin
coln's re-election—that is the first thing
you should have thought of," and then
kept up a lively conversation about the
prospects of the country, for nearly hilt'
an hour, when he exclaimed: " Get
the camphor and vinegar, if you please,
my head is beginning to-pain me vio
lently again." Mrs. E., who until then
was not all alarmed, rang the bell and
sent a messenger fora physician, and,
returning to himself, applied the pre
vious remedies, which, for the second
time, appeared to give entire relief, al
though Mr. Dayton remained excessive
lyattle. He said:
"Now I must go home;" but Mrs. E.
told him that she thought he was not
yet sufficiently recovered, and that a
doctor would be there in a few minutes.
Mr. Dayton told her that it was very
unnecessary to send for a doctor ; that
he would soon be quite well. In short,
in about ten minutes after he was seized
with a violent nausea, notwithstanding
which he could not be persuaded to lie
down until he had made several violent
efforts, and had finally thrown up a
small quantity of bile ; he was then in
duced to lie down, and in an instant
after commenced the stertorous breath
ing of apoplexy. This continued about
ten minutes,
when all was over. The
unfortunate lady in whose rooms o this
distressing event occurred was entirely
alone until Mr. Dayton commenced to
snore, as she supposed. This being the
hour of the servants' supper at the
hotel, her maid was down stairs. When
she came up, Mrs. E. related what had
occurred, and said, " I know he must
be better now, for he is sleeping so
soundly." She had covered him up
with her mantle, and haying observed
in his last attack that his hands were
cold, thought she would feel it' they
had got warm. The clammy cold which
met her touch, more than ten minutes
after he had ceased breathing, gave her
the first suspicion that life had departed.
It was not until she had tried,
over
and over again, putting a mirror to his
lips, that she was convinced of the fatal
truth. Several physicians had been sent
for
-in the meantime, not one of whom
was at home, and it was nearly two
hours after the death that Mr. Dayton's
awn physician and esteemed friend, Dr.
Beylard, arrived, to find that all human
aid was of no avail. Messengers were
sent to the family, and young Edward
Dayton was the first to hear theterrible
shock. Mr. W. Dayton, on returning
from the theater, found a messenger
for him that his father was ill,
but had no idea of the great blow
which awaited him until he was in
the presence of the dead body. Mrs.
and Miss Dayton remained in a state of
harrowing suspense for several hours,
and were only assured of the dreadful
certainty by the arrival of the two
young gentlemen, accompanied by Mrs.
E. Mr. Dayton left home at about 7
o'clock, at a quarter past 8 - he reached
the Hotel du Louvre, and died at about
a quarter past 9. Mrs. Even says she
remembers looking at the clock just
after he commenced smoking ; that she
cannot remember whether it was a
quarter to 9or a quarter past; but from
the time which she says passed between
the attacks it_must have been a quarter
past 9. It is due to the firmness of Dr.
Itteylard thatthe body was removed from
thehotelto the Legation,the French law
not allowing the removal of the dead
from the house until after certain for
naalitiea
The death having been so sudden
there was no change in the features;
they looked - as if ecaupesed for a;cahn
,oleep, and the following morningnbast
',759,818
Between 17 and 50.
.. 125,400 32,420
70,100 20,532
.. 19,000 4,932
139,300 36,120
.. 87,500 22,692
86,100 22,344
145,101 37,632
67,500 ' 17,532
195,1110 50,672
107,6011 27,420
'248,100 59,360
1,299,700 331,656
331,656
1,631,356
1,b31,3a6
200,000
272,333 6A,182
68,182
1,621,350
200,000
NUMBER,, 52.
• z • •
MUM -•• G, beater " the
PATetri..llMeibieeilieawyetike~Vik the
One 00MITtcryearecz...—'- -
lEtelteolanuk, 1 € l 2,
Thltd eolimin,
Visstor u. -
_ -
10
stadn Oner eas ysard r A tiv ...... elinesorksa.an —.. o ..
loseer. Aznilaaariiraiose.l7;
• • Exeentare , notices. 2.00
Adminiatiratoral 2.00
• Aesjgneee'
• -Auditors'
. 1.50
Other-wlirotleek6r 7 tett.phee:or or
three times,., .. L5O
of the face wastart-en, The body - was
embattled' on Friday night, and on
Saturday a verb touching private ser
vice was held in the drawing-room of
the Legation. No special invitations
were given and only those friends who
had called ' in person to express their
sympathy were present. The Rev. Dr.
Sunderland read a chapter in the Bible
and afterwards delivered a short and
very appropriate discourse, followed by
a prayer from the Rev. Dr. Cleveland.
The funetill services of our minister
have just been closed. All honor was
paid to his memory. A company of
imperial soldiers was drawn up before
the church, and flies of soldiers were
stationed in the aisles. The Emperor
was represented by thegrand -chamber
lain of the imperial Household,Duke de
Carnbaceers, and Prince Napoleon by
his aid-de-camp, General Franconniere.
The diplomatic corps was present in
citizen's dress. The services were
very impressive, being conducted by
the pastor of the American chapel, Dr.
Sunderland, assisted by Rev. Mr. Lam
son, of the American Episcopal Chapel
in Paris, and'Dr. Cleveland of New-Ha
ven. After the conclusion of a very
appropriate sermon by Dr. Sunderland,
Mr. Bigelow and Mr. Saboulaye spoke
a few words of eulogy of the deceased
diplomatist and statesman. I find that
I shall be too late for the mail if I at
tempt a full description of the ceremo
nies, and must close my letter.
The National Debt a Source of National
Prosperity.
The Dayton Empire takes the practi-
cal demonstration of the remark in
Lincoln's message, that the national
debt was a substantial source of private
and national prosperity. It says :
If debt were " property," how easy it
would be for individuals to become rich
as the Rothschilds ! And if a national
debt is " not oppressive " because " the
people owe it to themselves," it would
be the part of wise economy to permit
the nation to construct all our railroads,
build all our houses,
cultivate all our
lands, and, in short, be at the expeiae
of whatever involves an outlay of
money in any enterprise or in any
- enterprise or in any branch of business.
The debt thus created would be " sub
stantial property," and the bigger of
course the better; and the people would
"readily perceive that they °Pula pp
be much oppressed by a debt which
they owe to themselves."
* * * * * * *
We may illustrate the whole matter
in the case of a family. Suppose six
brothers inherit $5,000 each—making In
tne aggregate $30,000. Of the six, one
is prudent, cautious, sharp and unr ,
scrupulous. The others are idle, profli
gate, and Afortunate. In the course of
years, the thrifty brother, by one resort
or another, has obtained a mortgage of
$2,500 upon the estate of each of his
brothers, upon which they each have to
pay him $250 annual interest. Now,
we can well imagine the fortunate
holder of the mortgage proclaiming that
the wealth of the family has not dimin
ished ; that the family are quite as rich
as ever they were ; that the debts are
wholly owing to themselves, Sac. But
the five luckless fellows who keep their
noses to the grindstone all the year
round to pay interest ; who are able to
make no improvement of their proper
ty; and who are constrained to deny
themselves even the necessaries of life to
meet their obligations, are unable to
appreciate or enjoy the family pros
perity, of which the mortgagor of their
possession, and the recipient of the
earnings of their toil, makes such loud
boast.
This is an exact illustration of tile
Lincolnian fallacy under consideration.
The lands, and lots, and goods, and
chattels of' ninety-nine of our people
will be under bond and mortgage to pay
an oppressive sum in the shape of
terest, to a fortunate one of each hun
dred of the whole population. Sti.ll,
"the aggregate wealth of the whole
nation is not diminished," The lucky
holder of bonds will esteem the debt
" substantial property." But whether
the debt which the people thus owe to
themselves will not be oppressive, the
tax-paying seasons of 1885, and future
years, will determine.
Horrible Tragedy in Turkey,
A horrible tragedy is reported in a
Constantinople letter of the 19th ult.—
The following are the particulars as
thus reported : Djemila Sultana, the
third daughter of the late Sultan, now
in her twenty-second year, was married
to Mahmond Jelladin Pasha. The po
sition of a subject upon whom the Sul
tan confers the hand of one of his
daughters is anything but an enviable
"one, as the princesses treat the unhap
py husband much in the same way as
they do their slaves, or rather worse, for
the latter have not the misery of appear
ing in a false position. It is well-known
that the husbands of the daughters
of the late Sultan—Fatima, Rama, and
Djemila—have led the most wretched of
lifes from the arbitrariness and jealousy
of their wives. The tragedy which oc
curred on the 12th instant arose from
this cause. The Sultana Djemila, from
causes well or ill founded, became jeal
ous of one of her slaves, whom she
imagined was regarded with some favor
by her husband; in her highness' rage
against the unfortunate girl she ordered
one of her eunuchs to cut her head off,
which was done at a stroke of his
eimeter. Then she determined to ex
tend her revenge to her husband, and
coolly directed that the girl's head
should be placed under a cover on the
Pasha's dinner-table. It is the custom
in Turkey for the male heads of fami
lies to dine apart from their women. On
the day in question the Sultana seated
herself on the divan—a long sofa ex
tending across the room—previous to
her husband's entering the dining-room.
On hip arrival, as is customary, he
went up to his imperial spouse and
rendered her the usual homage.
She requested him to proceed with
his dinner. When seated, he called on
the servants present to remove thecover
which is thrown over the tray which
forms the top of the table; to his sur
prise they hesitated, and shrank back.
The Sultana then called to him to re
move it himself,upbraiding the servants
for their conduct. The unhappy Pasha,
obeying his wife's directions, threw off
the cover, and then before him lay the
gory head of the murdered girl. He
reeled and fell back a corpse: Previous
to taking off the cover he had drank
sherbet, and whether this was poison
ed, as some imagine, or that the shock
produced apoplexy, has not been ascer
tained, as no post mortem examination
has been held. It will, of course, be
thought that the imperial murderess==
was at once seized and placed in the
hands of justice. On the contrary,
Djemila Sultana, a princess of the im
perial family, daughter of Sultan Abdul.
Medjid, and niece of the reigning Sul
tan, has up to the present moment re
mained in her house unmolested, and
the.only notice taken of the matter has
been that her imperial uncle is very
angry with her.
Ten Per Cent.
It has been positively asserted by cor
respondents at Washington, who pro
fess to know whattheyaretalking about
that Mr. Secretary Fessenden has press
ed upon the committee of Ways and
Means a request for authority to issue a
new batch of legal-tender notes, to meet
the most immediate and importunate
demands upon the treasury, This state
ment has been quite as positively con
tradicted by other correspondents who
profess to know all about it better than
anybody ell. It is also intimated that
a compromise between the views of the
Secretary and Financial Committee will
be effected by bringing-An a bill to au
thorize the issue of four hundred mil
lions in notes bearing ten per cent. in
terest in currency. Thls latter plan is
said to be already definitely arrangees
If carried into effect it will no doubt
greatly relieve the treasury, by provid
ing for-vast amount of accumulated and
accumulating unpaid requisitions, the
holders. of which are becoming clamor
ou.s, and enable the Secretarytobreathe
more freely for a week or two.—dye.