CLEARFIELD, PA, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1861.
VOL. 8-NO. 11.
IO-DAYI
o, here bath been dawning
Another blue day,
Think, wilt tbon let it
Slip useless away "
fUt of eternity
This new day is born ;
Into eternity
St nig lit will return.
iJeholJ it aforetime
No eye ever did ;
So soon for ever
from nil eyes is hid.
Here hath been dawning
Another blue day ;
Think, wilt thou let it
Slip useless away ?
HOW IT CAME TO PASS.
BY ROSIK RATTLB.
, They were having such a splendid time, I
knew; everybody was enjoying themselves
averybody everybody but me ! I could bear
it no longer the feelings I had been Strug-
f;ling t repress all day must have their vent at
ast ; and, springing up, I flew like a startled
hare out through the front door, down the long
avenue, past the flower garden, across the or
chard, till I reached my own little arbor, winch
irom my earliest childhood, had been my hid
ing place and refuge in every trouble and vex
ation, and there flinging myself upon the soft,
green grass, I gave nay to a passionate burst
of tears.
"It was so nard so hard," I sobbed while
my slight frame shook like a leaf. "I did
want mother to go. I didn't want to be self
ish, and ugly, and hateful. Bat indeed, in
deed, I could not help it I I had wanted to go
so badly hud thought about it so much. Oh
dear! oh dear! oh dear!" And I cried till,
worn out by the violence of my grief, I could
only lie and sob, with now and then a long'
drawn tremulous sigh.
Just then 1 heard, right at my side, the
sound of an approaching step. Before I could
spring tip, before I could even raise my head
I felt myself lifted by a pair of strong arras
and seated of all strangeplaces in the world
on a gentleman's knee ; the next moment,
after a startled glance at my face, the stranger
(for be was a stranger) suddenly loosened his
hold, and springing to my feet, we stood fac
ing each other.
Pray, pardon me," he said, his handsome
lace flashing crimson. "You seemed in such
distress, you looked so very, small and dainty,
curled up among the leaves, I took you for a
grieved child."
Ills confusion was so very evident, his dis
may so apparently genuiuc, that, forgetting
my own em harassment, I could only blush,
and say with a smile :
"I am not much more."
It was very foolish tor me," he continued ;
"but I always feel a great dislike to letting
people alone when they seem in trouble. Can
you tell me whether I am trespassing or no 7
I am looking for Mr. Devine's house, and, hav
ing a natural propensity for short cuts. I was
making, I imagined, a bee-line for the chimneys-of
the mansion pointed out to me. Have
I lost my bearings 7"
"No, you were right. You are upon Mr.
Devine' grounds now. I am his daughter."
He bowed in acknowledgement of the intro
duction. "My visit is more especially to Mrs.Devine.
She was one of my mother's dearest friends,
and I have heard so much of her that I love
her already, without ;ever even having seen
her."
"She is the dearest, best mother in the
world. No one can help loving her," I said,
warmly.
lie smiled, a quiet litjle smile.
"I could not have it from better authority.
Are you the only ehild !"
I laughed merrily at the idea.
"Indeed, no! There are seven of us, and
l am third upon the list. They tell me,though
that I am the only Weston among them. I
have my mother's hair and eyes ; you might
almost know her by me. But," I said, ab
ruptly, struck by a sudden thought, "if you
have never seen her, and yet know her so well,
by report, you must be "
"Harry Liston," he interrupted, with a
smile. "Harry Liston, of New York, at your
service. At present on my way to the re
nowned Captain Cross, where, I am sadly
afraid, I was expected this morning ; but, be
ing a shockis?.ly lazy Individual, I did. not ar
rive at the village till this afternoon, and find
ing, upon inquiry, that your mother's lay be
tween me and my destination, 1 could not re
sist the temptation to linger still longer by the
way."
"Oh ! then yon have missed the picnic 1" I
cried in dismay.
in some strange way, I had entirely forgot
ten the awe that I expected to feel in the pres
ence of that most terrible of "lions," a real,
live author, and looked up into his face quite
fearlessly as I announced this in my eyes ;
extraordinary misfortune.
"And they counted upon you, too, so much!
I'm very sorry."
"The picnic what picnic 7 Oh ! yes, to be
sure I did bear something of a grand Fourth
of July celebration ; but I don't particularly
care tor that sort of a thing, as a general rule,
nd, to tell the trntb, I am just a little pleased
at escaping it. Have I missed any great
pleasure 7"
"Indeed you have ! They have been plan
ning it here for weeks, and the arrangements
were all admirable. Every one has gone in
the neighborhood every one from our house
except grandma and I. So you see you have
made your visit at an unfortunate time."
"Not at all," he said gravely. "But as
they are all gone away, there is no need of our
adjourning to the house just yet, is there 7"
ja queried, quietly seating himself upon the
bench of the arbor. "It is so pleasant out
Jjere, especially to a way-worn traveller. You
have no duties calling you, Miss Devine ?" he
Jded, hastily, seeing a shade of embarass
hieiit on my face.
"No, oh, no! not just now at all events.
Grandma's nap will last for an hour longer ;
t you will think tne very rude hadn't you
wtter go on to the grove 7 It is only two
ftilcs further, and you will be in time yet for
the pleasantest part of the entertainment.
They will like it so, too."
"Kay, excuse me. Two miles seems quite
Q interminable distance to one so worn out al
ready as I am." And be threw back his head
ith a ludicrous attempt at an air of complete
xhanstion. "I don't believe I couldwalk
lo steps without suffering from tho exertion.
And please, Miss Devine, be seated ; it fa
tigues me just to see you looking so ready for
motion."
And as I complied with his request, he went
on :
"But, may I ask, as this picnic was to be so
splendid an affair, and as everybody was going,
why Miss Devine stayed away 7 It can't be
possible that she takes no interest in such
vanities ; no, she spoke with too much enthu
siasm just now. What then keeps her at home
might I know 7"
I blushed and looked down in confusion. It
seemed so foolish not to ttell him the plain
truth. But then to do so would look like
praising one's self; so I faltered out
"I could not I had to stay with grandma."
"You wanted to go then 7"
"Indeed I did, so much."
"And why couldn't some one else stay with
grandma T There are eight other members of
tlitj family, I believe, are there not."
"Yes, but there was no one else that could,
except Bessie or mother and and I did
not want either of them to miss the pleasure."
"Why not Bessie as well as pardon me,
what is.the name 7"
"Faith, if you please. Oh ! it wouldn't
have done at all to have Bessie stay. She is
the belle of the country you know, so pretty
and agreeable ; the celebration would have
been nothing without her. Father would not
have allowed it either, he is so proud of her.
I am too; we all are. And I think you will
admire her when you see her ; indeed you
can't help it. Everybody does."
He seemed slightly amused at my enthu
siasm. "No doubt ; but I must caution you that, as
a general rulo, I don't like beauties. And
to return to the picnic. Why could not your
mother stay 7"
'She wanted to. Indeed, I had hard work
persuading her to go ; but I knew she needed
the rest and refreshment. She works so hard
tor us all."
"Then it was at your own request that you
were left at home 7 It was a voluntary sac
riGce 7"
"It is hardly worth calling a sacrifice," I
said, hanging my head with a thrill of shame
at the remeiubw-rance of the outbreak he had
witnessed.
He must have remembered it too, for, bend
ing over to look into my flushing face, he said,
"Was that what you was crying about I" .
"I was very silly and very wicked ; but I
had struggled against it all day. I could not
help it, indeed."
And I glanced up timidly. What was it in
his eyes that made my own fall abashed before
them, and caused the blood to flush so rosily
in niy cheek 7 I could not tell; be only said,
very softly, "Poor child !" Yet I felt that
another moment would bring a repetition of
the outburst, so springing up hastily, I said :
"I must go to the house now, and see if
grandma has waked. Will you come 7 I can
give you some cold ham, biscuit, and a cup of
tea for your supper, aud a little music after
wards, ?f you will stay and wait for the party."
"I don't know but that I ought to say No,
thank you ;' but I am not going to. The offer
is too tempting. I am particular- fond of cold
ham and biscuit, and fonder still of a little
music afterwards," he added, rising to follow
me.
"It will be a very ordinary performance, 1
warn you," I said doubtfully, as we went on.
"I am not a bit talanted, you know. Lucy is
the smart one."
And Bessie the beauty 7 What depart
ment, then, do you claim 7"
"Oh, I am nothing in pnriicular. Charles
calls me a Jaok-of-allt-rades. I think pie
making is my peculiar accomplishment. You
shall have a piece of my cherry pie for your
supper, that is if you ever indulge in the arti
cle at that meal. I know it isn't just the
thing." i
lie laughed.
"I think I will try a piece, at all hazzards.
This is the house, is it not 7 And is that
grandma at the window 7"
"Yes."
And I hurried in to ask, anxiously, if she
had been long awake, and if she had wanted
me.
No child, not at all. But what gentleman
is that you have with you 7 Seems to mo I
know his face ; anyhow, he's as handsome as
a picture."
Before I could answer, he was at myside,
hat in hand.
"Grandma, this is Mr. Liston a son of
mother's old friend, don't you know 7"
Yes, yes, 1 remember. Mary Seymour's
son. Well I might have known. He's her
very image. Do set down and tell me how
your mother's health is now. And where are
you living 7" she asked, with a face full of
interest.
And knowing that grandma, once roused to
conversation, would make a most admirable
hostess, I slipped away to perform one or two
highly important duties. First, I spread the
supper table with a delicate damask cloth, and
the dainty, "best china." Then cut the ham ;
set th'j tea to draw ; bring from the spring
house a pot of fresh, delicious butter ; select
from the pantry a plate of mother's snow white
bincuit, and my own nice looking cherry pie;
and then, after having given an approving
glance at the toute ensemble of the dining room,
fly up stairs to brush my disordered curls,
bathe my red eyes, and exchange my chintz
mourning dress for the more appropriate blue
lawn.
Descending again to the parlor, I found
grandma descanting, after a fashion of her
own, upon the virtues of each member of the
family ; I entered, in fact, just in time to hear
her say, with emphasis :
Well, I don't care what other folks say ;
for my part I think little Fay the 'flower of the
flock !' "
And to catch the stranger's grave "I do
not doubt it."
That would not do at all, I thought ; o I
interrupted the conversation by the announce
ment of supper.
It was certainly the pleasantest of all pleas
ant meals. We lingered around the table till
we could no longer distinguished each other's
features in the growing twilight, and grandma
declared that her bed-time had slipped past
unnoticed. Then conducting our guest to the
parlor, I left him till I had seen her comrort
ablj settled for the night, and heard her say,
with her good night kiss :
'This has been a very pleasant evening,
hasn't it Faith? He's a real noble fellow,
just like bis mother. Bless him."
"Descending to the drawing-room again, I
spent a happy hour with our guest, ne con
versed delightfully. He requested me to sing,
with which request I complied, with such tal
ent as I possessed, and received his earnest
thanks, lie, in return.sang three sweet songs,
with a fullness and richness of expression that
I had never heard before. When the last
words bad died upon his lips, he said decisive
ly :
"No more music to-night. You aro as sen
sitivo as a little wind flower, Miss Faith."
Then, rising to go, he took my hand, aud
holding it with a soft, close pressure, be add
ed :
"You need some one to care for and cherish
you as they would a bird or gem anything
that was more rare and precious, do you know
it, little Fay 7"
I think it was his tone more than his words
that made my heart thrill with a new, yet
strangely sweet sensation of great joy and
gladness ; yet I only said, very quietly
"But you are not going yet, Mr. Liston 7 I
think I can hear the sound ot carriages in the
distance already. Surely you will stay and
see mother 7"
"Not to-night," he answered.
. Then, with a certain seriousness of manner
that made his words seem too deep for mere
compliments, be added :
"This evening has been to me one of such rare
enjoyment, that I cannot bear to mar it with
the sight of another face, or the sound or a
nother voice. Good night. I shall take the
road back to the village, I think, sleep at the
hotel, and not dawn upon the the gallant cap
tain's till to-morrow ; by which time I trust,
the storm caused by my non-appearance will
have had time to blow over. Is not that the
better part of valor 7' My respects to your
mother, Miss Faith. I shall call upon ber
very soon. Ouce more, good night."
And, with a smile, a bow, one last pressure
of the hand, he went down the steps and a
way. The sound of his retreating footfalls was
lost in the noise of the approaching carriages,
and, as they drew up to the door, I descended
in time to receive into my arms Carrie's little
figure, heavy with sleep, and to feel the tight
ening clasp of her arms about my neck, as she
awoke to the consciousness of my presence.
"O, darlin' Fay !" she murmure 1, drowsily,
I'm so glad. I wanted you so all day."
But as I bore her in and laid her down upon
the parlor sofa, she sank again into tho heavy
slumber of complete exhaustion. Then I ran
back again to the door.
'Well, what kind of a time did yon have 7
Who were all there 7 What did you do 7
W as the music good 7 and the oration 7 Do
tell me all about it."
"O, Faith 1" exclaimed Charlie, a little im
patiently, "for mercy's sake don't ask. so
many questions all in a breath, or, rather,
don't ask any at all until to-morrow. We
are a little the forlornest party you ever en
countered. Wilbelm, Lucie and Carrie have
slept in concert for the last mile, and Bess
and Will have quarrelled the whole way.''
'Quarrelled! O Bess!" 1 exclaimed in
astonishment. "It seems so strange to me
that a day ol such pleasure should end in a
quarrel.
"Well, Faith," said Bess, with a slight
shade of self-reproach in her tone, 'he's been
too cross for anything in this world. Come
into the parlor, that's a good girl, and help
me on wunmytnings. liother tnis nat i tuo
strings are in a knot, of course. Well I had
a right pleasant time after all. But, O, Faith !
just think, the young lawyer Liston his name
is didn't come after all. Wasn't it too pro
voking ?'
"Indeed, I should think it was!" I tried
to say, sympathizing: "And he is so very
pleasant, too."
Pleasant!" she cried, turning snddenly,
with a look of amazement. "Why, Fay De
vine, how do you know? You have never
laid eyes on him !"
"Yes, but I have though, ne spent the af
ternoon aud evening here."
'Well, I never, Mother, just hear this.
While we've been fretting ourselves to death
over the non-arrival of our distinguished guest
Faith, has been quietly entertaining him at
home. I declare, it is enough to provoke a
siint."
And by the way of her establishing her
claim to that title, Bessie went off to bed in a
decided fit of the sulks.
'You shall tell us all about it in the morn
ing, my daughter," said our mother, coming
into the parlor, and noticing the hurt expres
sion on my face. "Just now we are all tired
and cross and want to get to bed as soon as
possible. Here, Will, carry the baby up for
sister. Don't Fay, she's too heavy for you.
Take charge of these wrappings will you,
my child 7 I have my hands full, you see."
And she followed the procession of weary
children that were slowly dragging them
selves up stairs.
"But, mother, dear," I said, pausing at my
door to await ber approach, "do tell me,
have you had a pleasant time 7"
"A delightful time, my daughter," she
said softly, "made doubly so by the remem
brance of her to whose filial love I owed it all.
And you you have not been unhappy."
'Ob, mother," I cried, throwing my arms
around her neck, and hiding my blushing face
on her shoulder, "it has been the happiest
day of wy life. And now I know you have
enjoyed it, I am so much more than repaid for
my sacrifice.
And so, indeed, I was. Not only because
the petty self-denial of this morning had been
my first step in that path ot sacrifice which,
sooner or later, all human feet must learn to
tread not only because it bad knit my moAb
er's heart and mine in bonds of firmer and
closer affection not only because it had
taught me that our greatest trials may often
prove blessings in disguise, and, therefore, al
ways always to hope and trust ; but because
(have you not guessed it already 7) the friend
ship commenced that morning beneath the
shadow of the old arbor ripened, in time, into
the true, earnest and protecting love which
makes me at this moment the very happiest
little wife upon whom the sun shines.
It has become quite a practice in the South
to present commanding officers with race hor
ses well known for their superior speed. A
cotemporary thinks in looks suspicious, to say
the least, to see a General mounted on a very
fast horse on a battlefield. Perhaps a Bull
Run affair is anticipated on the other side.
The snake's poison is in bis teeth ; the slan
derer'! in bis tongue.
WHAT WE EAT AND LBIHE.
The readers of "Herodotus" shudder when
they come to his account of the Issedones
among whom, when a parent dies, the son col
lects his friends and relatives together, slays
cattle proportionate to his moans, cuts up his
'dead father along with the sheep and the oxen,
and, mingling all the flesh together in one
savory mass, invites his guests to partake of
the banquet. . The reader dwells upon the in
cident, which, although shocking for Its bar
barity, exhibits remarkable ingenuity in gas
tronomy, and very singular ideas of filial re
gard. Singular! Not so singular after all.
Will it be believed that our own people, in like
manner, show their reverance for tho dead by
feeding on their ancestors 7 Not that they
now eat a man plain boiled or palpably roast
ed. We are fastidious In our cookery ; our
city magnates have some little reputation as
gourmets ; and the human flesh was not more
carelully disguised by the Issedones in a kind
of enormous Yorkshire pie, than the dead are
transmuted, by the aid of a rare gastronomy,
for our unhappy fellow-citizens. The kitchen
where this art is practiced is the churchyard ;
the cook is the sexton ; a mattock and a spade
are his hdle and knife ; and day and night the
steam of the hidious olio spreads around; the
citizens breathe it contentedly, and the Gog
and Magog grin their delight as the odor reach
es them. Let no one fancy that we ate speak
ing metaphorically. Thert is no truth better
ascertained, and which the physiologists of the
day are more anxious to inculcate, than that
the air we breathe is as much the food of man
as the solids we eat and tbo liquids we drink.
Many persons will, perhaps, sneer at the as
sertions of physiology, deny their truth, be
cause not obvious to our senses, and continue
to hug themselves in their indifference. These
wise individuals forget the story of the Brah
min who thought it as henious an oflence to
touch animal food as we do to taste human
flesh. It was shown to him, with a microscope,
that he daily partook of myriads of animalcule,
and he dashed the instrument to pieces. It is
easily demonstrated that we daily, hourly,
feed on the bodies ot our fellow-citizens fath
ers, brothers, friends, and we laugh at the sci
ence, and keep up the good old custom.
A Daughter of the Regiment. The Phila
delphia Fire Zouaves have attached to their
corps a young lady named Virginia Hall as,
vivaiuliere of the regiment. In person Miss
Hall is above the medium hight. She is a
bright blonde, having a clear blue eye, and her
light hair cut short like a lad's and parted on
the side. Her nose is slightly retrousse, her
mouth well formed, and when she converses,
even dentists might go mad at the display of
so nne a set oi teetn. iter unitorm consists of
a blue Zouave shirt, trimmed with sarno color
ed braid, a Zouave jacket of the same color,
and similarly ornamented, a tunic shirt, dark
pants, Zouave light leather gaiters, extending
from the knee down, a liberty cap with a red
band, a blue top, a green sash and hospital
steward's chevron. She wears a short sword
and small revolver attached to ber belt. Deci
dedly her appearance is prepossessing. Miss
Hall is a Bostonian by birth ; she received a
fine education at one of the academic institu
tions on the Western Reserve, Ohio, and by
her intelligence, fine conversational powers,
and pleasing manners, she impresses those
wuo lorm tier acquaintance very favorably.
She. makes herself generally useful about the
hospital, and renders whatever service she
can to make the camp more comfortable. The
Fire Zouaves take great pride in her, and
quickly resent any imputations made against
their vivandiere
Experiences op Imprisonment. The fol
lowing is an extract from Count Goulfailconiers
account of his imprisonment: "Fifteen years
I existed in a dungeon ten feet square ! Du
ring six yeats I had a companion ; during nine
I was alone ! I never could rightly distinguish
the face of him who shared my captivity, in
the eternal twilight of our ceil. The first year
we talked incessantly together: we related our
past lives, our joys forever gone, over and over
again. The next year we communicated to
each other our thoughts and ideas on all sub
jects. The third year we had no ideas to com
municate ; we were beginning to lose the power
of reflection. Tho fourth, at an interval of a
month or two, wo would open our lips to ask
each other if it were possible that the world
went on as gay and bustling as when we formed
a portion of mankiud. The fifth we were si
lent. The sixth he was taken away 1 never
knew where to execution or liberty. But 1
was glad when he was gone ; even solitude
was better than the pale, vacant face. One
day (it must have been a year or two after mv
companion left me) the dungeon door was
opened ; whence proceeding I know not, the
following words were uttered : "by order of
his Imperial majesty, I intimate to you that
your wife died a year ago." Then the door
was shut, and I heard no more ; they had but
flung this great agony upon me, and left me
alone with it."
Lang's Style. A startling specimen of the
obnoxious doings of "Jim Lane" is furnished
in the St. Louis Democrat's despatches from
Tipton. After using the contents of two rebel
stores to relievo some Union families, whom
the Secessionists bad robbed, General Jim
called the citizens of Pleasant Hill together,
beneath the glorious Union flag, and entertained
them with a live American speech. Pointing
to the ensign he had raised, he said to them :
That flag has been your protection, and shall
be still. So long as it remains here you are
safe ; but if it is cut down, by the Eternal I
will return and burn your town !" He then
retired, with all bis men. The affair occurred
two weeks ago, and although the denizens of
Pleasant Hill are said to be about all secession
ists, that flag is still waving over the town 1
Jeff. Thompson's Family. The Louisville
Journal says that Colonel M. Jeff. Thompson,
who is at the bead of an army of rebels in Mis
souri, has for several years been a real estate
and insurance agent at St. Joseph, and for one
or two terms held the office of Mayor of that
city. When he told his wire that bo bad de
cided to join the Confederate army, she en
treated him not to do so, and enlisted the aid
and influence of the neighbors and friends to
persuade him from the rash act. ne declared
her "crazy," and, assisted by others of the
same like as himself, had her placed in an
asylum at St. Louis. A letter from St. Louis
last week states that she is again at St. Joseph,
begging ber food sad raiment from the Union
citizens.
A MULE STOEY.
I heard a good story of two of our soldiers,
at P,aducah, yesterday, which will pay for its
space in repeating. When our troops first
received their teams they were troubled to pro
cure forage ; so the mules were turned loose
or tethered in the out-skirts of tho town. Oc
casionally a few would be missing, uutil Uncle
Sam found himself minus some twenty Ave or
thirty. Those which strayed away were caught
up by the rebel speculators and taken to Bland
ville, back of Columbus, where they had accu
mulated some fifty stolen and purchased ani
mals, which were under five or six keepers.
The two privates mentioned- (members of the
Fortieth Illinois Volunteers), hearing of the
whereabouts of the stock, asked General
Smith's peimission to attempt their recapture,
which, with soma misgivings, was granted.
The boys, dressed in the garb of Kentucky
farmers, went and surveyed the field and fold,
and set to work. They had whisky with them
whisky such as the Kentucky rebels like to
get drunk on good old Bourbon, and the first
object was to get them as comfortably tight as
possible, which was not long in being accom
plished. Then the boys went to the mule
yard, let down the bars aud mounted two of
the best, without saddle or bridle, and started
for Paducah,the whole lot followed at a break
neck pace, and braying in the most diabolical
chorus. The keepers were not long in discov
ering the trick, and gave chase as far as they
deemed it prudent to our lines, but to no pur
pose ; and in good season Saturday afternoon
the boys made their appearance at Gen. Smith's
headquarters to report, their faces beaming
with a glow of satisfaction hard to describe.
Their report was a condensation of Laconism :
so I will give the dialogue:
Gen. Smith "Well, boys, what lock 7"
Soldier "We got 'em, and more too."
Gen. Smith "How many did you get 7"
Soldier "Forty, I reckon ; haint counted
em."
Gen. Smith "But that is more than we
have lost. You did not steal any, I hope."
Soldier "Steal ! K-ristopher, steal ! No,
sirrce, but we didn't have time to put the bars
up after we bad got Uncle Sam's out, and the
God damned things would foller."
Then tho General drew on an elongated'
countenance, and as sternly as though he bad
been a Judge and was sentencing a culprit to a
lifetime of imprisonment, lectured the soldier
roundly for using profane language in the
quarters and presence of a general officer.
The soldier took the lecture uneasily, twirling
nis nat nervously tne while, ana wnen tne
General had "subsided" apologized as fol
lows ;
"You see, General, we had to enss the God
damned things all day to git 'em into camp,
and it's mighty bard to quit off all of a sud
denly." Then the General's rigidity relaxed ; a smile,
or rather a laugh, came up f rom his heart, and
tried to escape from the corners of bis mouth ;
but discipline is discipline with an old army
officer, and it would not do to allow such a
breach of decorum to pass unnoticed ; but in
consideration of the recaptured twenty-five
mules, "and more too," he did not inflict any
severe castigation or put them under arrest,
but, thanking them for the services rendered,
dismissed them with a caution to leave their
profanity behind when they came again to
headquarters, and the boys left, declaring, as
they closed the door, that "such a pious old
cuss hadn't aoy business to be around amongst
sojers."
An Accommodating Superstition. A habit
exists among the Esquimaux of placing on the
graves of the dead tho hunting implements
used by them while living, which are held sa
cred and never molested. An American offi
cer states that on a recent voyage to the Arctic
regions they were anxious to obtain, as speci
mens, some implements laying on the grave
of an Esquimaux who had been a celebrated
hunter. They would not take them, of course,
without consent of the friends of the decensed,
and failed in their endeavor to purchase them.
In this dilemma, however, they were informed
that the Great Spirit would be propitiated by
the substitution of some knifes on the grave.
Knives amounting amply to a quid pro quo were
accordingly placed on the grave, and the hunt
ing implements removed ; but, singular to
stare, the natives, who considered it sacrilege
to take the hunter's relics, appropriated the
knives one by one, till all had diappeared.
The Great Exhibition. The building
which is now going up for the great exhibition
at London will have a cubical extent of 73,000,
000 of cubic feet. The foundations have al
ready consumed 5,000 tons of concrete, and
on that will belaid 18,00 ,000 of bricks, in
22,000 tons of mortar. 10,000 tons each of
timber and iron will be used in the structure,
and for the windows no less than 108 miles'
length of sashing will be used. The glaziers
will use 500 tons of sheet glass, and 50 tons of
putty. Among the small items are between
200 and 300 tons of nails, 600 tons of paint,
S00 tons of pipe, and so on.
"Hurrah !" A great many people have
shouted "hurrah" "many a time and oft," but
comparatively few, however, know its deriva
tion and meaning. The same word, and for
the same purpose, is used all the world over,
and originated among the eastern nations,
where it was nscd as a war cry, from the be
lief that every man who died in battle for bis
country, went to Heaven. It is derived from
the Sclavonic word Ha raj, which means "To
Paradise."
A Runaway Traitor. The Portsmouth
(Va.) correspondent of a Richmond paper
sends the following: This morning a live
Yankee was brought up from Pig Point. He
is a lieutenant in Lincoln's navy, and was
attached to the Minnesota. His statement is
that he deserted, having become disgusted
with bis associations. He gives a great deal
of information, and seems to be well posted.
- It is supposed the number of copies of the
Scriptures in existence in the world before the
present century, did not exceed four millions.
In the year 1860 the British and Foreign Bible
Society alone published 1,917,897 copies, be
ing an increase of 307 per cent in thirty years.
The "Critic" says the aggregate issue of Bi
bles from Great Britain every year is now
nearly four millions.
The big gnn "Union," is mounted so as to
sweep the roads between Fortress Monroe and
Sewell's Point.
THE JOURNAL.
INTERESTING WAR NEWS.
The Removal of Gen. Fremont Disaatisfaetion
among the officers Companies lay down their
arms Fremont's farewell address to his army
lie urges the troops to fight on etc.,
Springfield, Mo., Nov. 3. Yesterday
small bodies of the enemy came within twelve
miles of us and news was received of the ap
proach of their advance, 2,800 srrong. Prep
arations were making to go out and attack
them, when General Fremont received the
unconditional order from Washington reliev.
ing him at once from his command. Simul
taneously came the newspapers announcing
the fact that the intelligence spread like wild
fire through the camps and created indesct ib
able excitement and indignation. Great num
bers of officers signified their intention to re
sign at once, and many companies laid down
their arms, declaring they would fight under
no one but Fremont. The General spent
much of the afternoon expostulating with tho
officers, and urging them by their patriotism
and by their personal regard for him not to a
bandon their post and also issued tho follow
ing farewell to the troops.
Head-quarters Western Department, 1
Springfield, Mo., Nov. 2nd, 1861. J
Soldiers of the Mississippi jJrmy : Agreea
bly to orders this day received, I take leavo of
you. Although our army has been of sudden
growth we have grown up together and I have
become familiar with the brave and generous
spirits which you bring to the defence of your
country and which makes mo anticipate for
you a brilliant career. Continue as you hare
begun and give to my successor the same cor
dial and enthusiastic support with which' you'
have encouraged me. Emulate the splendid'
example' which you have already before you'
and let mo remain as I am, proud of the noblo
army which I had thus far labored to bring to
gether. Soldiers, I regret to leave you most sincere
ly. I thank you for the regard and confidence
yo'ti "bad 'invaribly shown tome. I deeply re
gret' that I" shall uotliave the honor to lead '
you to the victory which you sre just about to
win ; but I shall claim to share with you in
the joy of every triumph, and 'trim always to
be fraternally remembered by niy companions
in arms. (Signed,) John C. Fremont,
MaJ. Gen. U.S.A.
Feeling ran intensely high during the whole
of last evening and there were meetings almost
everywhere. The various bands" serenaded
the General and whenever he appeared be was
greeted with cheers. Though after notifing
General Hunter, as his order directed, he had
no longer command over the troops, be spent
several hours in making" a personal examina
tion of the ground about the city to be prepar
ed for a battle, and in accordance with a writ
ten request from all the Brigadier Generals
here, be remained through the night to lead
the army in case of attack. All the troops
slept on their arms. Many officers remained
up all night and an attack was hourly expect
ed, nothing more occurred than the firing on '
our pickets in two different roads. The en
emy are now encamped in the old Wilson
creek battle-ground.
Gen. Fremont is prepared to leave St. Louis'
and will go as soon as Gen. Pope arrives, who'
has been sent forward and will tako command '
till Gen. Hunter gets here.
Universal gloom prevails throug hout the
camps. A battle will undoubtedly occur ero
long. The troops will meet tho enemv firm 1 v.
but they are disheartened, and have lost their
enthusiasm. The body guard',' wLo could not
bo induced to remain, and who will now dis
band, as the terms, of their 'enlistment permi t,'
accompanying Gen. Fremont and his entire
staff, including' Gen. Asbotb, commander of
the First Division." Gen.'Fremont will per
mit no demonstration from the troops on his
departure.
Great'Rise is the Potomac. Tbo Poto
mac has 'not been known to be so high for
many years as during ' last week. The Long
Bridge was covered for severJl feet on tho
Virginia side, and all crossing had been sus
pended for several days. The Government
ferries at Georgetown had also been stopped
the water being four feet above the landings.
The only communication with Virginia1 for'
teams was by way of the Chalri bridge, which
created a perfect jam on that road, for a day
or two."
The Drowned' at Ball's Blctf. On ac-"
count of tho rise in the Potomac a number of
bodiespf soldiers drowned at the' battle of
Ball's Bluff have floated down the stream" and
have been recovered. Five were drawn out at '
Chain bridge, 13 near Georgetown and Wash
ington, and one near Fort Washington, twelve '
miles vbelow" the city. Many will, no doubt,
float by without being discovered. The re
covered bodies have all been burried.
The Fleet. The steamer Monticello pass- '
ed the whole fleet within thirty miles ot Bull '
Bay on Saturday a week. The storm bad a-'
bated: The fleet was movng along finally
and would reach the Bay on Sunday morning
landing within 2-5 miles of Charleston. "
The Belvidere. Tho steamer Belvidere
reached Old Point on Monday. She separated ;
from the fleet in the storm on Friday, and
having ber upper works damaged returned for
repairs. Twelve horses were killed on board. '
Matsville, Nov. 4. A messenger 'arrived '
and reports that Gen. Nelson tooli possession
of Prestonburg on Saturday morning without
resistance. Gen. William's Tell back six miles,
where It was supposed ho would make a stand.
Pennsylvania Soldiers. It is stated, that
Pennsylvania has furnished the Government
with' 13,0O0more troops, than any other State.
This is gratifying intelligence o the loyal cit
izens of the Old Keystone.
Maryland Volunteers. The 1st Regiment
of volunteers from Baltimore were permitted,
on request, to go home to vote at the recent
election. They left their arms in camp, how
ever, until their return.
The Florida. The steam " gunboat Florida
reachedPbiladelphia the 5tb, with ber machin
ery disabled. Her repairs will detain ber a-
bout three days. She left the naval expedi
tion oft Cape Fear.
Contrabrands. -These chattels continue
to flock to Fortress Monroe in large numbers ;
sixty arrived in one day, last week.
Beauregard. It is rumored that Gen.
Beauregard has resigned bis command of the
Rebel army on the Potomac.
Floyd commands about 7000 rebel troops.