Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 September 1885 — Page 2

ADVICE. • matalu Loqtmxrß. He'* yotmp, yon say: the world’s before him, He ha* bia brain, a Rood one, too.' We’ll let that j ass. You’d best ignore him, He’s au:e!y not the man for you. My dear, yray look for talents double— Talents of mind ami nietal, too. They say love thrives with want and trouble; '' It isn’t true! There, there, Miss! Now, no tears or wailing, When you have lived as long as I You'll find that life is easy sailing, Provided you've a proper eye To business, and cash transactions. You’ll find that Love’s a fickle'fool In practice as be is in actions— Unfit to rule. He isn’t worth consideration Who isn’t worth a single sou. Though poverty’s no degradation, I’ll tell you frankly, of the two, Look out for family and money; Do n’t meddle, with love or brains, And when we catch this gilded sonny, 111 take,the reins. — Life. , MY LADY’S HANDKERCHIEF. BY I>. H. I.KAHY.—:—n '' / ' " ' ■ A dainty, fragile piece of lace. . ■ - A sweet, faint lingering motion Of violets : How her figure, face, In memory like the perfume lingers. It rested ’neath her swelling breast, , And rose and fell with graceful motion, Nestling close, as fearing lost Some ruthless hand remove it. It kissed her full, ripe, cherry lips : Seemed fain, indeed, toliDger there, As a bee from flower to flower flits, Tarrying longest at the sweetest. Pierced by Cupid’s fatal dart, Firmly held by filmy meshes; There lies a captive —juy poor heart— Which my lady will not ransom.

HOW GREAT CAPTAINS DIE

Heroic and Enberotc Departures of Great Men Some Tragic Events in Unman History. NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. One of the first to come to mind in modern times is Napoleon Bonaparte, the most glorious conqueror among the French leaders. Thiers has given a vivid picture of the great Emperor’s last days: The year 1821 came at last, that year that was to terminate the ■wondrous career of Napoleon. At the commencement of January his health improved, but only for a few days. “It is a respite,” he said, “of a week or two, and then the disease will resume its course.” He then dictated a -few passages concerning Ca sar to Marchand. They were the last he wrote. February brought no other BEBBg*j than an" increased intensity of the symptoms. Not being able to digest food, the august invalid became weaker every day. He was tormented by intense thirst, and his pulse, once so slow, beat with feverish rapidity. —He wished for air, though he could not endure it when admitted. “I am no longer," he said, “that proud Napoleon whom the world has so often seen on horseback. The monarchs who prosecute me may set their minds at rest. I shall soon remove every cause of fear.” Napoleon’s faithful servants never left him. Montholon and Marcliand remained day and night by his bedside, an attention for which he showed himself profoundly grateful. It was at this time that his captors manifested an entirely unnecessary severity of espoinage or watchfulness. Sir Hudson Lowe, who was immediately responsible to the British government for the custody of Napoleon, insisted that he should be seen every day by some of his gilards. This was very offensive to the sick Emperor, but some of his suite managed to satisfy the British officers of Napoleon’s presence. The captors were exceedingly suspicions, and even when Napoleon was dying they believed he was keeping in seclusion to plan an escape. The great commander made every business preparation for his end. Meeting death with a smile as dignified as it was grateful, he said to Montholon: “It would be a great pity not to die, now that I have arranged all my affairs so well." The epd of April arrived, and

eyfrv moment increasedhis danger and -flnffering. He had no relief from the spasms, vomitings, fever, and burning thirst. “You will return to Europe,” he said to those who surrounded him; you will retnrn, bearing with you the reflection of my glory, with the honor of your own fidelity. You will be esteemed and happy. I go to meet <sleber, Desaix, Lauries, Massena, Bessieres, Durae, Key. They will come to me, they will experience once more the intoxication of human glory. We shall speak of what we have done. We shall talk of our profession with Frederick,Turenne, Conde, Casar, and Hannibal.” Then pausing, Napoleon added with a peculiar smile, “Unless there should be as great an objection in the upper sphere as there is here below to see a number of soldiers together.” On the 3d of May he became delirious, and amid his ravings these words were distinguished : “My son. The army. Desaix.” It would seem as though he had a last vision of the battle of Marengo recovered by Desaix, The agony continued during the day of the 4th. and the noble countenance of the hero was terribly distorted. The weather was terrible—it was the bad season in Helena. Sudden gusts of wind tore up some of the planted trees. Nearly every American schoolboy of a quarter of a centnry ago has declaimed:. Wild was the night, yet wiltar, night 1 Hung round the solid* r’s pillow, In liis bosom there a fiercer fight Than the fight on the wrathful biUuw.

On the sth of May there was no doubt that the last day of this extraordinary life had dawned. All his servants kneeling around his bed watched the last flickering of the vital flame. These were unfortunately attended with bitter suffering. The English officers, assembled outside, listened with respectful interest to the accounts the servants gave of his agony. Toward the decline of the day bis life and sufferings decreased together; the cold, extending from the extremities, became general, and Death seemed about to seize his glorious victim. The treather had become calm and serena About 6:20, when the sun was setting in waves of light, and the English cannon gave the signal for retiring, those around the bad perceived that the patient did “ not breathe, and cried opt that he was dead. They covered his hand with fejsses, and Marchand, who had brought tb St. Helena the cloak the first Consul had worn at Marengo, laid it over his body, leaving only the rioblet head

uncovered. The convulsions of the death agony, always so painful to witness, were succeeded by a majestic tranquility of expression. That face, wondrously restored to the slenderness of youth, and the figure, clad in the mantle of Marengo, seemed to present again to the witnesses of that touching scene, Gen. Bonaparte in the meridian of his glory.

FREDERICK THE GREAT.

While Bonaparte was just treading the threshold of his great career, another military genius was dying. A genius wonderful to contemplate, in some respects a nrghtiei; commander than Napoleon, and certainly in one respect, the most essential, entirely sur-i passing him—that is, ho was finally successful, reigned long, died on the throne, and by his masterful achievements laid the foundation of the splendid German Empire of to-day. The following description of his death by Carlyle is peculiarly interesting : Tuesday, August 16,'1786. —Contrary to all wont the king did not awaken till 11 o'clock. On first looking up he seemed in a confused state, but soon recovered himself, called in his Generals and Secretaries, wiio had been w aiting so long, and gave, with his oldprecision, the orders wanted —one to Bohdich, Commandant at Potsdam, about a review of the troops there the next day, an order minutely perfect in knowledge of the ground, in foresight of what and how the evolutions were to be, which was accordingly performed on the morrow- The Cabinet work he went through with the like precision of himself, giving on every point his three clerks their directions in a weak voice, yet the old power of spirit, dictate to them among other things an “instruetion” for some Embassador just leaving—“four quarto pages, which.” savs Herzbug, “would have done honor to the most experienced minister,” and in the evening he signed his missives as usual. This evening still—hut no even* ing more. We are now at the last scene of all, which ends this strange, eventful history, Wednesday morning. General, Adjutants, Secretaries, Commandant, were there at their old hours, but word came out, “Secretaries are to wait.” King is in a kind of sleep, of stertorous, ominous character, as if it were the death sleep; seems not to recollect himself when he does at intervals .open his eyes. This slumberous, half stupified condition lasted through the day. Toward evening the feverishness abated; the King fell into a soft sleep, with warm perspiration, but on awakening complained of cold, repeatedly of cold, demanding wrappage after wrappage, and, on examining feet and legs, one of the doctors made signs that they were, in ifact, cold up nearly to the knees. “What said he of the feet ?” murmured the King some time afterward, the doctor having stepped out of sight. “Much the same as before,” answered some attendant. The King shook his head incredulousy. He drank once, grasping the goblet with both hands, a draught of fennel water, his customary drink, and seemed relieved by it, his laljt reflection in this world. Toward 9in the evening there had come on a continual short cough and a rattling in the breast, breath more and more difficult. Why continue? Friedrich is making exit on the common terms; you may hear the curtain rattlingdown. For the most part he was unconscious, never more than half conscious. As the wall clock above his head struck 11, he asked, “What o’clock?” “Eleven,” answered they. “At 4,” murmured he, “I will rise.” One of his dogs sat on its stool near him; about midnight he noticed it shivering from cold. “Throw a quilt over it,” said or beckoned he. That, I think, was his last completely conscious utterance. Afterward, in a severe choking fit, getting at last rid of the phlegm, he said: “La moniagne est p assee, nous, irons, mieux.” We are qver the hill, we shall go better now.” Attendants, Heazberg, Salle, and one or two others, were in the outer room, none TrieJrlcTi’s but Strutski, hislxam-

merhussar, one of the three who are his sole valets and nur-es; a faithful and ingenious man, as they all seem to be, and excellently chosen for the object. Stiutzki, to save the King from hustling down, as he always did, into the corner of his chair, where, with neck and chest bent forward, breathing was impossible, at last took the King on his knee, kneeling on the ground with the other knee for the purpose, the King's right arm around Strutzki’s neck, Strutzki’s left arm around his back and supporting his other shoulder, in which posture the faithful creature for about two hours sat motionless till the end came. Within doors all was silent except his breathing; around it the dark earth silent, above it the silent stars. At. 2:20 the breathing paused, wavered, ceased. Friedrich’s life battle is fought out; instead of suffering and sore labor, here is now rest. Thursday morning, August 17, 1786, at the dark hour just named. On the 31st of May last this King has reigned forty-six years. “He has lived,” counts Bodenbeck, “78 years, (5 months, and 24 days." t ■ -

His death seems Very stern and lonely; a man of such affectionate feelnigs, too; “a man with more sensibility than other men!” But so had his whole life been, stern and lonely; such the severe law laid on hin^. OLIVER CROMWELL. It is Carlyle acrain who furnishes his own approachable delineation of the last scene in the earthly career of England's famous ‘ protector.” Truly it is a great,scene of wo Id history, this is olej Whitehall—Oliver Cromwe'l drawing nigh to his end. The exit of Oliver Cromwell and of English Puritanism’s great light, one of our few authentic solar luminaries, going down now amid the clouds df death. Like the setting of a great victorious summer sun, its course now finished. “So stirbt ein held," says Schiller. “So dies a hero!. Sight worthy to be worshipped!" He died, this hero Oliver, in resignation to God, as the brave have all done. “ W T e could not be more desirous that he should abide,” says the pious Harvey, “than he was content and willing to begone.” The struggle lasted amid hope and fear, for ten days. Some small miscellaneous traits, and a confused gleanings of last words, and then our poor history ends. . Among the ejaculations caught up at

intervals during the final days are the following: “I think lam the poorest wretch that lives, but I love God, or rather am beloved of “lam a conqueror, and more than a conqueror, through Christ that strengtheneth me!” So pass in the sick room, in the sick bed,' these last, uncertain days. “The godly persons had great assurances of a return to their prayers;” transcendent human wishes find in their own echo a kind of answer! They gave his highness also some assurance that his life would be lengthened. Hope was strong in many to the very end. For several days the conflict lasted, and then, when the morrow’s sun arose, Oliver was speechless; between 3 and 4 in the afternoon he lay dead. Friday, Septembers, 1858—“ The consternation and astonishment of all people,” writes Fauconberg, “are inexpressible; their hearts seem as if sunk within thega My poor wife—-I know not what to do with her. When seemingly quieted, she burst out again into a passion that tears her-very heart to pieces.” —Hush, poor, weeping Mary! Here is a life battle right nobly done. Seest thon not? Tlie is changed int;o calm At His command and will; So that the waves which raged before Now quiot are and still. Few words tell the story of the death ofqihim who saved Waterloo to the Bluish, but these few words are eminently suggestive, and show how insep-. arable is the professional warrior from his sword and its use. The account is painfully brief: His sovereign yisited him in his latest moments at his chateau in Silesia, to which he replied: “I know I shall die,” said the veteran. “I am not sorry for it, seeing that I am no longer of any use."

SIR CHARLES NAPIER. Sir Charles Napier, one of the preeminent fighting heroes of the English army, though not one of the towering leaders among armed men, still may be appropriately noticed in this connection. He bore the pall fit the burial of the Duke of Wellington, and this funeral was the prelude of his own, Qn the morning of August 29, 1853, he expired like a soldier, on a naked camp bedstead,the windows of the room open, and the fresh air of Heaven blowing on his manly face. Surrounded by his family, and a few of his neighbors, he died.' All his grieving servants were present, and at his feet stood two veterans of his regiment, gazing with a terrible emotion at a countenance then settling in death which they had first seen beaming in the light of battle. As the last breath escaped, Montague McMurdo snatched the old colors of

<*he Twenty-second Regiment, the colors that had been borne at Meanee, and Hyderabad, and waved them over the dying hero. Thus Charles Napier passed from this world. Am intrepid soldier in his life, he died amid trophies of battle, and his camp-bed was his bier. The colors of the Twenty-sec-ond gently waved over him, and between them and the grand picture of Meanee leaned forward above liis pale, heroic countenance, as if to claim his corps for that bloody field. JOAN OF ARC. The strangest military phenomenon of all history was Joan of Arc, and her cruelly pathetie'end has enshrined her in Jh.e choicest tragic romance «f Jhe ago. Those whom she had delivered repudiated and sacrificed her, and history has no parallel to this colossal ingratitude. In 1431 she was put to death. The frightful ceremony of burning her began with a sermon. One of the lights of the University of Paris preached upon the edifying text: “When one limb of the Church is sick the whole Church is sick.” This poor Church could only be cured by cutting off a limb. -He wound up with the formula: “Jeanne, go in peace; the Church can no longer defend thee.” There are conflicting stories concerning her recantations and confessions in presence of this dreadful ordeal, but she appears to have emerged into the final trial with unsullied luster^

Deserted by the Church, she put her whole trust m God. S^ eas^e( l for the cross. An Englishman handed her a cross, which he made out of a stick, She took it, rudely fashioned as it was, with no less devotion, kissed it, and placed it under her garments next her body. While she was embracing the crucifix which was afterward given her, the English began to think the performance exceedingly tedious. It was now noon; at last the soldiers grumbled, and the Captain called out: “What’s this, priest? Do you mean us to dine here?” Then.To'sing patience, and without waiting for the order from the bailiff, who alone had authority to dismiss her to death, they sent two constables to take her out of the hands of the priests. She was seized at the foot of the tribune by men-at-arms, who dragged her to the executioner with the words: “Do thy office— The fury of the soldiery filled all present with horror, and many there, even the judges, fled from the spot, that they might see no more. She was made fast under the infamous placard, "Heretic, relapser, apostate, idolator.”

and something worse, and then the executioner set fire to the pile. She saw this from above and uttered acrv; then, as the brother, who was exhorting her, paid no attention to the fire, forgetting herpelf in her fear for him, she insisted on his descending. No doubt hopes had been entertained that upon finding herself abandoned by the King, she would at last accuse and defame him. To the last she defended him. “Whether f 4 h r ave done well or ill, my King is faultless; it was not be who counselled me.” Meanwhile the flames rose. When they first seized her the unhappy girl shrieked for holy water—this must have been the cry of fear, but soon recovering, she called only on God, on her angels, and her saints. She bore witness to them: “Yes, my voices were from God; my voices have not deceived me.” Ten thousand men wept. few of the English alone laughed or endeavored to laugh. One of the mostfurions among them had sworn that he would throw a fagot on the pile. Just as he brought it she breathed her last. He was taken iIL His comrades led him' to a tavern . to recruit his spirits by drink, but he was beyond recovery. “I saw,” he ex* claimed in his frsntic despair, “I saw a dove fly pat of bes mouth with her last 'sigh." Others had > read in the flame* the word "Jesus,” j

which she had so often repeated. The executioner repaired in the evening to Brother Isambart, fulljof consternation, and confessed himself, but felt persuaded that God would never pardon him. One of the English King’s Secretaries said aloud, on returning from the dismal service, “We are lost; we have bnrnod a saint.”

Certain Death.

“People have very little idea to what an extent this habit of using hypoder-* mic injections prevails,” said a prominent physician, f “Singular that doctors, knowing its effects, should persist in using morphine," said the reporter, flinging out a bait for further revelations. “Not any more singular than that they should drink whisky until death steps in and stops the debauch, but the morphine habit is infinitely more seductive, and more difficult to abandon than whisky drinking. You doubtless know of doctors Who have killed themselves by the bottle. So do I. Now, not many months ago, there died, in Oakland, a physician who was as surely killed by morphine as the poor fellow who died in the House of the Inebriates, Saturday. He took his, also, in the shape of hypodermic injections. He had a large practice, was universally trusted and respected, and not one in 500 of his acquaintances ever suspected that he was a slave to this habit.” “Does it prevail to any extent among women, Doctor ?” “I have had a good many patients of that sex in my own practice-rl think it is next to impossible—l can’t say Jhat it is impossible to cure them. I have in my mind now a lady who resides iu one of the bay counties. She is speckled all over from the use of the hypodermic syringe. I have told her a score of times that she was killing herself, and her friends and relatives have actually gone on their knees to her to abandon this ruinous habit. But it was all of no avail. Why, the very last time I called to see that lady, 1 was in the midst of the most impressive warning I could deliver, and she was apparently listening with tlie utmost attention, and making her mind up to reform, when I noticed a Auspicious motion of her right hand, I grasped her by the wrist, and I’m blest if she was not holding a a hypodermic syringe, charged with morphine, and in the act of treating herself to an injection.l cut my speech mighty short, I tell yon, told her relatives that she was beyond my skill, or powers of persuasion, and left the house.” “How did she acquire the habit?”

“Ok, like most of them, she bad been a sufferer from acute neuralgia, and found relief in morphine. It is a good friend, but a terrible enemy. Never try it, young man, ‘just to see bow it feels,’ or some day you’ll be feeling in your vest pocket for your syringe just as natural as the smoker dives down to see if be has a cigar left.” —Seni Francisco Alta-California. Dixie in Great Favor as a National Air. “That reminds me,” said a veteran of the late war, “of bow I used to feel when I beard the ‘Bonnie Blue Flag’ and ‘Dixie’ played by the bands in the Confederate camps. While the army was besieged at Chattanooga I have lain for five and six hours in one of the holos occupied by the advance pickets on the plain between the Union line at Chattanooga and Confederate line at Mission Ilidge, listening to the bands in the opposing armies. I knewthat if I raised my head or hand there would come a whistling bullet from the sharpshooters on the other side. I knew that for six long hours I must keep wide awake, alert' and watchful, but oiten in the earlier part of the night I have lost myself lying therg in the moonlight listening on one hand to the national airs played by the splendid bands of the Union army, and on the other to the airs played by the Confederate bands. I could heftr the cheers -tbatfollowed—Yankee Boodle’in the Union camp, and the wild shouts that followed ‘Dixie’ in the rebel camp. I studied closely the airs that were most popular to either army, and I often thought in that solitude of advanced picket duty that ‘Dixie’ ought to belong to the ’whole country, Since that time I have heard it played probably a thousand times in the North, and have heard it cheered by Northern people, and I am satisfied that by some process I do not clearly understand, that it has beepme the property of the nation. And I, am glad of it.— Chicago Inter-Ocean':

The Discouragement of Slang.

There have been several societies started for the suppression of slang. There is one in Cleveland. The list of expressions not allowed in conversation by this club is as follows: You are another; Gilly; Crank; Gosh; Just boss; Cheese it; Monkeying; You can’t; Nasty thing; You are crazy; You tramp; You poor thing; You nuisance; You are a slouch; Such gall; Don’t mention What a nerve; I should smile; I fuould remark; I should snicker; I should titter; I should murmur; I should giggle; I don’t have to; Hardly ever; Give us a rest; Pretiy nearly; Y’ou make me tired; You make me weary; Snide; Slouch; Allee sameo; Bet your life; Give it up; Great heavens; Oh, mercy; t Clieese the racket; Too too; Chalk it down; Too thin; Bats; Not much; Chestnuts; La la; Ah there, stay there; Ta ta; Jim Dandy; Just great; Proper caper; Say nothing; Sure; What a picnic. The fines paid by the members for the violation of its rules go to the associated charities of the city. .

Church-Going in the South. The Catholic Churches are well attended after the people have attended market and visited the grocery. With one ot two exceptions, the Protestant Churches are sparsely attended, ahd the churches are antiquated, and so are the sermons. The most thriving churches in the South are the colored churches, and in them I have heard some of the most earnest and practical sermons. It' was not all about “Dcm Golden Slippers" or “Swing Low. Sweet Chariot," but real practical morality. Correspondent Pittsburg. Chronicle. - Hfi who cannot command his thoughts must not hope to command his actions.

REMINISCENCES OF PUBLIC MEN.

BY BEN: PERLEY POORE.

Gen. Jackson was known among the soldiers who had served under him as “Old Hickory,” a sobriquet given him during the Greek War. His brigade was making a forced march, without baggage or tents, to surprise the Indians in one of their villages, and were for several days and nights exposed to the peltings of a March storm, the rain freezing as it fell. Gen. Jackson got a severe cold, but did not complain, as he tried to sleep in a muddy bottom among his half-dozen soldiers. Capt. Allen,and his brother John cut down a stout hickory tree, peeled off the bark and made a covering for the General, who was with difficulty persuaded to crawl into it. The next morning a drunken citizen entered the camp, and seeing the tent kicked it over. As Jackson crawled from the ruins the toper cried: “Hello, Old Hickory; come out of vour bark and jine us in a drink L” Thenceforth the General was known in camp as “Old Hickory,” and when he was talked of as a Presidential candidate, the nickname was adopted by his supporters. The “liberty tree” of the Revolution was revived in the. “hickory tree,” planted at every country cross-roads and village by the enthusiastic Democrats, while they sang: _ Freemen, cheer the hickory tree, Long its boughs have sheltered thee.

James Green, of Missouri, was, before the war, one of the leading men in the United States Senate, and he saved the South in the debate on the Lecompton question. He was the only man who, by common consent, got the upper hand of Douglas in that memorable discussion, and but for him the Southerners would have made a poor allowing just then. There seemed to be a bright future opening for him, but, like too many others similarly situated, he thought no man ’could rise in the world of politics without passing a good deal of time in the bar-rooms of Washington. Six years later he was often to be seen on Pennsylvania avenue in a state of beastly intoxication, his clothes covered with mud, and with his once intelligent features swollen and disfigured.

Col. Fletcher Webster used occasionally to visit Washington early in 1862, when his regiment, the Twelfth Massachusetts, was encamped on the Potomac, and he was always welcomed by his father’s old friends. He had inherited his father’s fascinating power of couversatiojay-and there was a chivalrous grandeur about his contempt for the Bostonians who had mortgages on his farm that was refreshing. Those who served under the Colonel tell how much better than bugle or band was his “Close up, boys!” Tumbling through deep mud holes in the darkness, wrading through creeks into the swamp, crowding through thickets into the forests, “Close up, boys!” sounded out clear and musical, never failing to start the echo of a cheer when the good cheer itself was quite marched out. The men were proud of him. He was indispensable to the commissary when the beef was over-salt, shoes over-worn, or blankets lost. His charity covered a multitude of cold and aching places. He had a way of looking out for them quite home-like. He rarelyMook diseipline mto his hands, hut his rebuke was more severe than courts-martial were elsewhere. No one marched them so slowly, spoke to them so kindly, or met them so cordially; yet hone was more respected. Mr. Blaine, after he was no longer Speaker, was the leader of the Republican minority in the House, and was implicitly followed. He was well described, at that time, as looking surcharged with tremendous nervous energy, so irresistibly impelling him that the steam-brakes couldn’t slow him down to 300 revolutions per minute. When there was nothing to work it off it seemed to effervesce in boyish exuberance of spirits, as he darted

and down the aisles or through the lobby with incessant activity. His habitual air was that of a man intent upon overtaking to-morrow, and driving ahead at such tremendous speed that nobody would do surprised if lie dict'it. . Physically, he was a splendid type of manhood; of commanding stature, straight as a Maine pine, broadshouldered and of stalwart, museular frame, a trifle stout, but with step quick as a boy’s, and every movement as free and supple as that of a trained athlete. He had a full,‘ high forehead; large, keen, observant eyes; nos 9 slightly aquiline and of the sort that added to the look of , push-aheadative-ness that was imprinted on his every feature. His short, cropped beard, which half concealed his lower face, gave him an air of military precision. In speech he was rapid, but distinct in utterance and clear cut in expression; made no attempt at rhetorical graces, but was forcible, pungent, and at times stirringly eloquent, while always terse and pointed and marvelously quick at repartee, and when most intense was most master of hinpself and thoroughly self-poised. He did not seek occasion to speak, but as often as he took the floor letter-writing and conversation -ceased, and everybody listened. He was regarded as the Congressional candidate for the coming nomination at Cincinnati, and his Bepublicau associates in the House were, with a few exceptions, his earnest supporters. Mr. Blaine was noted for the courtesy with which be treated journalists, often taking his pen and dashing off in terse Anglo-Saxon a paragraph containing the information which thev ? asked for. It was the general opinion.’ in the reporter’s gallery that nature had intended him for a managing editor, and that he had missed his vocation when he became a politician.

“Fashionable Flowers.”

Vick, the celebrated florist, has these sensible remarks in reference to “fashionable flowers:” Of all personal brna- c ments flowers are the most preciousfar too valuable and everlasting to bo spoken of in the same breath with the productions of the jeweler or. the milliner, and yet we are told that orchids are the fashionable bridal bouquets, because some one or two daughters of millionaires carry them. Very often nothing less graceful or more inappropriate could be chosen. The idea with many seems to be simply to find the

most rare and unique species of natural flowers, independent of beauty; if they * cost much and are rare, that is j quite sufficient. The overstrained effort always betrays itself, and orchids were never yet more highly valued by people - of refined tastes than were the wild violet, or the hedge rose. No Chaucer, no Herrick, no Wordsworth, has sung of the orchids as they have sung of daisies, of daffodils, or of the modest snowdrop, but they have often been exhibited as the flaunting decorations of those who have no higher appreciation of them than that they were costly, and so, to some extent, the ensign of wealth. What a pity it is that anyone class Of flowers should become fashionable, just as if all flowers were not beautiful in their own way, and far above the mere chattering patronage of any particular set. An Incident of the Revolutionary War. After the defeat of the American troops at Oriskany, St. Leger and his Indian allies advanced against Fort Schuyler. Benedict Arnold was immediately sent forward with a division to the relief of the fort. He was to wait at Fort Larned for reinforcements advancing by another route, before marching upon the enemy; but,hearing upon his arrival there that Fort SchuyleS* was already besieged, he planned to scatter the Indian allies of the British by a strategein. He had recently captured a notorious Tory, Walter Butler, who was supposed to be a spy, and with .him several other Tories. Among them was a nephew of General Herkimer, named Hon-Yost Schuyler, a loutish young fellow, supposed to be dull of intellect. Butler had been sent as a prisoner on to Albany, but young Schuyler had been tried in the camp and condemned to be shot. His mother came to Arnold to intercede for her son’s life, and the General agreed to spare him on condition that he would go forward and endeavor, by extravagant reports, to create a stampede among tne Indian allies of the British. This Hon-Yost promised to do, and, having a number of bullet holes shot through his clothes, set out with a friendly Oneida Indian for the British camp. Every Indian they chanced, to meet they assured that the Americans w’ere coming with a countless array of men and guns. The two parted some distance from tlie camp, approaching it by different roads. Hon-Yost then ran in among the Indians, all out of breath, apparently very much frightened, gasping that a great army of Americans was coming, and that he had been obliged to flee lor his life. When asked the number of the troops he pointed to the leaves on the trees, to indicate that they were beyond his power to compute. The Indians were greatly alarmed, and, when the Oneida came in by another road with the same story, and others, who had become terrified by the rumors spread by HonYost and his companion on their approach, came straggling in to repeat the same tale, amplified by their imagination, declaring that the whole valley was swarming with warriors, the alarm became terror. The manitow of the tribes was consulted, and flight was agreed upon. Nothing that George St. Leger could door say made any impression on the panic-stricken tribes, who precipitately left the camp, scarcely pausing to carry with them their accoutrements of war. The British General, finding himself nearly deserted, was forced to raise the siege and retreat northward into Canada before Arnold appeared on the scene.— Inter-Ocean.

Lincolniana.

In the senatorial contest between Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Douglas, when they spoke at Freeport, Illinois, Mr. Douglas appeared in an elegant barouche drawn ,by four white horses, and was received with great applause. But when Mr. Lincoln came up in a “prairie schooner,” viz., an old-fash-ioned canvas-covered pioneer wagon, the enthusiasm of the vast throng was unbounded. When travelling about the quiet country towns on his law business it was his custom, at the tavern or board-ing-house where lie stopped, after tea to get a candle and go to his room and read awhile. He was no loafer. At a public meeting in a grove, a long shambling figure was seen sitting on the fence and whittling thoughtfully, clothed in the slightest summer attire. After others had spoken, “Lincoln! Lincoln!” was called, and the wliittler, pocketing, his knife, and slipping from the fence, made a characteristic speech. This was before his great prominence. At the same place, when the lady who entertained him and some others at dinner made some apology, he said he guessed it was better than they would have got at home, anyhow. To Bishop Simpson, after a lecture on American progress, in which he did not speak of petroleum, Mr. Lincoln said, as they came out, “You did not ‘strike ile.’ ”

The sheets and clothes stained with the blocd of Lincoln were 'literally torn in strips, as Antony said of Csesar, and preserved as mementos. The assassination of Ca'sar, and of William of Orange were brought vividly to the minds of those who were in Washington. Only a day or two before the assassination, the Morning Chronicle, tlie Washington' organ of the administration, said that a single life was seldom indispensable to a country, but that just then that of Abraham Lincoln seemed to be so. .r . It seemed to be so, indeed. Yet he served his country by his death as by Not only did liis death at once prevent what might have been the dangerous consequences of a frenzy of exultation, but it taugtyt us Aha most important of truths,' that no man, however great c'fid able anil patriotic and devoted and beloved, is indispensable to the welfare of the country. There are extreme exigencies in which the natural cry is, “Oh, for an hour of Dundee!” But in the great development of liberty no one man is essential. As Charles Sumner said in beginning liis eulogv upon Lincoln, “Iff the Providence of God there are no accidents.” Editor’s Easij Chair, in Harper’s Magazine. -/ . .1 Buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long thpn ah alt sell thy necessaries. * \ .- ! '