An Incident of the 5th O. V. I. -- How to Avoid the Draft --
Keep the Soldiers' Letters -- New Use of Blood-hounds --
Proposition to Hang the Dutch Soldiers -- Stolen Stars.
AN INCIDENT OF THE 5th O. V. I.
There is no regiment in the service that has won more enviable renown
than the glorious old 5th; and, although I have met them but twice in
my peregrinations, I can not let them go unnoticed in this volume.
Many of the boys I knew intimately--none better than young Jacobs, who
was killed near Fredericksburg, Virginia. A writer in the Cincinnati
_Commercial_, soon after his death, penned the following merited
tribute to his memory:
Noble deeds have been recorded, during the past two years, of the
faithful in our armies, who have struggled amid carnage and blood to
consecrate anew our altar of liberty--deeds which have stirred the
slumbering fires of patriotism in ten thousand hearts, and revived the
nation's hope. I can well conceive that it would be asking too much to
record every merited deed of our brave officers and men; but, while
too many have strayed from the ranks when their strong arms have been
most needed, will you allow a passing tribute to the memory of one
who was always at his post of duty?
Henry G. Jacobs, a private in Company C, 5th Regiment O. V. I., who
was killed in battle near Fredericksburg, Virginia, was the second son
of E. Jacobs, Esq., of Walnut Hills. He enlisted in May, 1861, and
had, consequently, been in the service two years. Since his regiment
left Camp Dennison, he had never been absent from it a day until he
fought his last battle. I need not speak of his deeds of personal
bravery, for he belonged to a regiment of heroes. For unflinching
courage on the field of battle, the 5th Ohio has few parallels and no
superior. In that respect, the history of one is the history of all.
In the battle of Winchester, Henry escaped with two ball-holes in his
coat. In the battle of Port Republic, only one (a young man from
Cincinnati) besides himself, of all his company who were in the
action, escaped capture. They reached the mountains after being fired
at several times, and, two days after, they arrived at their camp. At
the battle of Cedar Mountain the stock of his gun was shattered in his
hands by a rebel shot. He was in the battles of Antietam and South
Mountain, and in over twenty considerable skirmishes.
Last autumn, his sister wrote, urging him to ask for a furlough and
visit home, if but for a few days. His answer was: "Our country needs
every man at his post, and my place is here with my regiment till this
rebellion is put down." No young man could be more devotedly attached
to his home, yet he wrote, last winter: "I have never asked for a
furlough since I have been in the service; but, if you think father's
life is in danger from the surgical operation which is to be
performed upon his arm, I will try to get home; for you do not know
how deeply I share with you all in this affliction."
His talents and education fitted him for what his friends considered a
higher position than the one he occupied. Accordingly, application was
made to the Governor to commission him as a lieutenant in one of the
new regiments. In signing the application, Professor D. H. Allen, of
Lane Seminary, prefaced his signature as follows: "I know no young man
in the ranks who, in my opinion, is better qualified for an officer in
the army than Henry C. Jacobs." In this opinion W. S. Scarborough,
Esq., Colonel A. E. Jones, and many others who were personally
acquainted with him, heartily concurred. Such encouragement was
received from the Governor as led his sister to write, congratulating
him upon the prospect of his appointment. His answer was: "I had
rather be a private in the 5th Ohio than captain in any new regiment.
In fact, I do not want a commission. When I enlisted, it was not for
pay; I never expected to receive one dollar. I have fought in many
battles, and served my country to the best of my ability; and I wish
to remain in the position I now occupy till the war is over."
It is not only to offer a tribute to the memory of Henry that I would
intrude upon your readers, but, by presenting an example, encourage
faithfulness and patriotic devotion to the cause of liberty. If any
man, officer or private, has been more faithful, his be the higher
monument in a grateful nation's heart when treason is no more. He
shouldered his musket, and it was at his country's service every hour
till it was laid down beside his bleeding, mangled body, on the banks
of the Rappahannock. If my country ever forgets such heroes as these,
her very name should perish forever. Young men whose hearts are not
stirred within them to rush into the breach, avenge the fallen brave,
and save their country, are making for themselves no enviable future.
Who that calls himself a man will sit with folded arms and careless
mien, under the shade of the tree of liberty, while the wild boar is
whetting his tusks against its bark, and the gaunt stag rudely tears
its branches? It was planted in tears and watered with blood; and if
you do not protect it now, your names will perish.
Henry had made two firm resolves: one was to keep out of the hospital,
and the other was to keep out of the hands of the rebels. He would not
be taken a prisoner, and, if die he must, he preferred the
battle-field to the hospital. He has realized his wish, and though the
bitterness of our anguish at his loss may only wear out with our
lives, our country, in his death, has lost more than his kindred. We
are making history for all time to come. Eternity will tell its own
story of unending joy for those who have freely shed their blood to
lay a firm foundation for the happiness of millions yet unborn.
"Give me the death of those
Who for their country die;
And O! be mine like their repose,
When cold and low they lie!
"Their loveliest Mother Earth
Entwines the fallen brave;
In her sweet lap who gave them birth
They find their tranquil grave."
HOW TO AVOID THE DRAFT.
During the troubles of raising men, a rough-looking customer,
determined upon evasion, called upon the Military Commission, when the
following colloquy ensued, the individual in question remarking:
"Mr. Commissioner, I'm over forty-five."
"How old _are_ you?"
"I don't know how old I am; but I'm over _forty-five_."
"In what year did you make your appearance on this mundane sphere?"
"I don't know what you mean; but I'm over forty-five."
"When were you born?"
"I don't know; but I'm over forty-five."
"How am I to know you are over age?"
"I don't know and I don't care; but I'm over forty-five."
"When were you forty-five?"
"I don't know; but I know I'm over forty-five."
"You must give me some proof that you are over age."
"I've been in the country thirty-six years, and I'm over forty-five."
"That does not prove that you are too old to be drafted."
"I don't care; I know I'm over forty-five."
"I shall not erase your name until you prove your age."
"I tell you I've been in this country thirty-six years, and I went
sparking before I came here, and I'm over forty-five."
"Will you swear it?"
"Yes, I'm over forty-five. D----d if I aint over forty-five."
"Well, I will exempt you."
"I don't care whether you do or not, for _I've got a wooden leg_."
NEW USE OF BLOOD-HOUNDS.
One fine summer's Sunday afternoon, as a steamboat was stopping at a
landing on the Mississippi to take in wood, the passengers were
surprised to see two or three young, athletic negroes perched upon a
tree like monkeys, and about as many blood-hounds underneath, barking
and yelping, and jumping up in vain endeavors to seize the frightened
negroes. The overseer was standing by, encouraging the dogs, and
several bystanders were looking on, enjoying the sport. It was only
the owner of some blood-hounds training his dogs, and keeping them in
practice, so as to be able to hunt down the runaways, who often
secrete themselves in the woods. It was thought fine sport, and
useful, too, in its way, ten years ago.
But now the same hounds are being made use of, all through Alabama and
Mississippi, and, we have no doubt, in other of the Southern States,
to hunt down white men hiding in the woods to escape the fierce
conscription act, which is now seizing about every man under sixty
years of age able to carry a gun. Nor is this the worst. It is found
that those camped out are supplied with food brought them by their
children, who go out apparently to play in the woods, and then slip
off and carry provisions to their fathers. To meet this exigency,
blood-hounds are now employed to follow these little children on their
pious errands, and the other day a beautiful little girl was thus
chased and overtaken in the woods, and there torn in pieces, alone and
unaided, by the trained blood-hounds of Jefferson Davis! Nor is this a
solitary case. It appears that many white men, women, and children
have thus been sacrificed, in order to carry out the conscription act
in all its terrors.
In a large number of cases, those who are thus hunted down are such as
have in some way exhibited Union proclivities; for, although such have
ceased to offer any opposition to the rebels, they do not like taking
up arms against the flag of the Union, to which many of them have, in
former days, sworn allegiance. These persons, and all suspected, are
especially marked out as objects of the conscription and the
blood-hound, be their ages and fighting qualities what they may. And
these are the men hunted down with dogs, and their wives and their
children, if they attempt to follow them. There are, however, many men
not Unionists, and willing to contribute of their property to any
amount to support the rebels, but now being drawn into the
conscription, or, having tasted the desperate neglects of the rebel
service, have deserted, and will not again take up arms. Their wives
are ladies, most delicate and tender, and their children brought up
with a refinement and delicacy of the most perfect character, until
this war began. And these are the women that now have to wander alone
in the woods, in search of their husbands and brothers and sons; and
these are the little girls, who, going to carry food to their
relatives, are liable at any moment to be overtaken by swift hounds,
let loose and set upon their track by the agents of Jefferson Davis.
It may be doubted if war itself, ever but once in the history of
mankind, proved so disastrous to a people, by the hands of those
engaged in carrying it on. Perhaps, in the final destruction of
Jerusalem, there may have been scenes of greater and more fiendish
cruelty by the factions of John and Simon destroying each other, while
both were at war with the Romans. And what must be the state of the
South, when a delicate woman, who would hardly set her feet on the
ground for delicacy, and used to have servants to attend upon her
every wish and want, is reduced to straits like these, and children
are torn to pieces by the dogs of humble hunters after white flesh for
Jefferson Davis's shambles!
KEEP THE SOLDIERS' LETTERS.
Mother, father, brother, sister, wife, sweetheart, keep that bundle
sacredly! Each word will be historic, each line invaluable. When peace
has restored the ravages of war, and our nation's grandeur has made
this struggle the most memorable of those great conflicts by which
ideas are rooted into society, these pen-pictures of the humblest
events, the merest routine details of the life led in winning national
unity and freedom, will be priceless. Not for the historian's sake
alone, do I say, keep those letters, but for your sakes who receive
them, and ours who write them. The next skirmish may stop our pulses
forever, and our letters, full of love for you, will be our only
legacy besides that of having died in a noble cause. And should we
survive the war, with health and limb uninjured, or bowed with
sickness or crippled with wounds, those letters will be dear mementoes
to us of dangers past, of trials borne, of privations suffered, of
comrades beloved. Keep our letters, then, and write to us all the home
news and "gossip." Bid us Godspeed. Speak kindly, loving, courageous
words to us. If you can't be Spartans--and we don't want you to be--be
"lovers, countrymen, and friends." So shall our feet fall lighter, and
our sabers heavier!
PROPOSITION TO HANG THE DUTCH SOLDIERS.
The following specimen of "chivalric" literature is copied from the
Knoxville _Register_, of June 12, 1862:
Of late, in all battles and in all recent incursions made by Federal
cavalry, we have found the great mass of Northern soldiers to consist
of Dutchmen. The plundering thieves captured by Forrest, who stole
half the jewelry and watches in a dozen counties of Alabama, were
immaculate Dutchmen. The national odor of Dutchmen, as distinctive of
the race as that which, constantly ascending to heaven, has distended
the nostrils of the negro, is as unmistakable as that peculiar to a
polecat, an old pipe, or a lager-beer saloon. Crimes, thefts, and
insults to the women of the South invariably mark the course of these
stinking bodies of _sour-krout_. Rosecrans himself is an unmixed
Dutchman, an accursed race which has overrun the vast districts of
the country of the North-west.... It happens that we entertain a
greater degree of respect for an Ethiopian in the ranks of the
Northern armies, than for an odoriferous Dutchman, who can have no
possible interest in this revolution.
Why not hang every Dutchman captured? We will, hereafter, hang, shoot,
or imprison for life all white men taken in the command of negroes,
and enslave the negroes themselves. This is not too harsh. No human
being will assert the contrary. Why, then, should we not hang a
Dutchman, who deserves infinitely less of our sympathy than Sambo? The
live masses of beer, krout, tobacco, and rotten cheese, which, on two
legs and four (on foot and mounted), go prowling through the South,
should be used to manure the sandy plains and barren hill-sides of
Alabama, Tennessee, and Georgia.... Whenever a Dutch regiment adorns
the limbs of a Southern forest, daring cavalry raids into the South
shall cease.... President Davis need not be specially consulted; and
if an accident of this sort should occur to a plundering band, like
that captured by Forrest, we are not inclined to believe our President
would be greatly dissatisfied.
* * * * *
"My young colored friend," said a benevolent chaplain to a contraband,
"can you read?"
"Yes, sah," was the reply.
"Glad to hear it. Shall I give you a paper?"
"Sartin, massa, if you please."
"What paper would you choose?" asked the chaplain.
"_If you chews_, I'll take a paper of terbacker."
THE STOLEN STARS.
[At a dinner party, at which were present Major-General
Lewis Wallace, Thomas Buchanan Read, and James E. Murdoch, a
conversation sprung up respecting ballads for the soldiers.
The General maintained that hardly one had been written
suited for the camp. It was agreed that each of them should
write one. The following is that by General Wallace:]
When good old Father Washington
Was just about to die,
He called our Uncle Samuel
Unto his bedside nigh;
"This flag I give you, Sammy, dear,"
Said Washington, said he;
"Where e'er it floats, on land or wave,
My children shall be free."
And fine old Uncle Samuel
He took the flag from him,
And spread it on a long pine pole,
And prayed, and sung a hymn.
A pious man was Uncle Sam,
Back fifty years and more;
The flag should fly till Judgment-day,
So, by the Lord, he swore.
And well he kept that solemn oath;
He kept it well, and more:
The thirteen stars first on the flag
Soon grew to thirty-four;
And every star bespoke a State,
Each State an empire won.
No brighter were the stars of night
Than those of Washington.
Beneath that flag two brothers dwelt;
To both 't was very dear;
The name of one was Puritan,
The other Cavalier.
"Go, build ye towns," said Uncle Sam,
Unto those brothers dear;
"Build anywhere, for in the world
You've none but God to fear."
"I'll to the South," said Cavalier,
"I'll to the South," said he;
"I'll to the North," said Puritan,
"The North's the land for me."
Each took a flag, each left a tear
To good old Uncle Sam;
He kissed the boys, he kissed the flags,
And, doleful, sung a psalm.
And in a go-cart Puritan
His worldly goods did lay;
With wife and gun and dog and ax,
He, singing, went his way.
Of buckskin was his Sunday suit,
His wife wore linsey-jeans;
And fat they grew, like porpoises,
On hoe-cake, pork, and beans.
But Cavalier a Cockney was;
He talked French and Latin;
Every day he wore broadcloth,
While his wife wore satin.
He went off in a painted ship--
In glory he did go;
A thousand niggers up aloft,
A thousand down below.
The towns were built, as I've heard said;
Their likes were never seen;
They filled the North, they filled the South,
They filled the land between.
"The Lord be praised!" said Puritan;
"Bully!" said Cavalier;
"There's room and town-lots in the West,
If there isn't any here."
Out to the West they journeyed then,
And in a quarrel got;
One said 't was his, he knew it was,
The other said 't was not.
One drew a knife, a pistol t' other,
And dreadfully they swore;
From Northern lake to Southern gulf
Wild rang the wordy roar.
All the time good old Uncle Sam
Sat by his fireside near,
Smokin' of his kinnikinnick,
And drinkin' lager-beer.
He laughed and quaffed, and quaffed and laughed,
Nor thought it worth his while,
Until the storm in fury burst
On Sumter's sea-girt isle.
O'er the waves to the smoking fort,
When came the dewy dawn,
To see the flag he looked--and lo!
_Eleven stars were gone!_
"My pretty, pretty stars," he cried,
And down did roll a tear.
"I've got your stars, old Fogy Sam,
Ha, ha!" laughed Cavalier.
"I've got your stars in my watch-fob;
Come take them if you dare!"
And Uncle Sam he turned away,
Too full of wrath to swear.
"Let thunder all the drums!" he cried,
While swelled his soul, like Mars;
"A million Northern boys I'll get
To bring me home my stars."
And on his mare, stout Betsey Jane,
To Northside town he flew;
The dogs they barked, the bells did ring,
And countless bugles blew.
"My stolen stars!" cried Uncle Sam,
"My stolen stars!" cried he,
"A million soldiers I must have
To bring them back to me."
"Dry up your tears, good Uncle Sam;
Dry up!" said Puritan,
"We'll bring you home your stolen stars,
Or perish every man!"
And at the words a million rose,
All ready for the fray;
And columns formed, like rivers deep,
And Southward marched away.
* * * * *
And still old Uncle Samuel
Sits by his fireside near,
Smokin' of his kinnikinnick
And drinkin' lager-beer;
While there's a tremble in the earth,
A gleaming of the sky,
And the rivers stop to listen
As the million marches by.
DEBATE
between Rev. Ebenezer SLABSIDES and Honorable Felix GARROTTE,
Delivered Before General ROSECRANS and the Society of the Toki.
The subject of discussion was--"WHO DESERVED THE GREATEST
PRAISE: MR. COLUMBUS, FOR DISCOVERING AMERICA, OR MR.
WASHINGTON, FOR DEFENDING IT AFTER IT WAS DISCOVERED?" The
two characters are personated by an instantaneous change of
feature.
[The Honorable FELIX GARROTTE arose, and said:]
Mr. President, and Gentlemen of this Lyceum:
I suppose the whole country is aware that I take sides with Mr.
Kerlumbus, and I hope, Mr. President, that I may be allowed to go a
leetle into detail in regard to the history of my hero. I find, Mr.
President, after a deal of research, that Mr. Kerlumbus was born in
the year 1492, at Rome, a small town situated on the banks of the
Nile, a small creek that takes its rise in the Alps, and flows in a
south-westerly direction, and empties into the Gulf of Mexico.
Mr. Kerlumbus's parents were poor; his father was a basket-maker, and,
being in such low circumstances, was unable to give his only son that
education which his talents and genius demanded. He therefore bound
him out to a shepherd, who sot him to watchin' swine on the banks of
the Nile; and it was thar, sir, by a cornstalk and rush-light fire, a
readin' the history of Robinson Crusoe, that first inspired in his
youthful breast the seeds of sympathy and ambition. Sympathy for what?
Why, sir, to rescue that unfortunate hero, Mr. Crusoe, from his
solitary and lone situation upon the island of Juan Fernandeze, and
restore him to the bosom of his family in Germany. He accordingly made
immediate application to Julius Caesar for two canoes and a yawl, eight
men, and provisions to last him a three-days' cruise; but, sir, he was
indignantly refused. He was tuk up the next day and tried by a
court-martial for treason, and sentenced to two months' banishment
upon the island of Cuba--a small island situated in the Mediterranean
Sea--which has lately been purchased by the Sons of Malta for Jeff
Davis.
But, sir, he was not to be intimidated by this harsh and cruel
treatment. No, sir-ee; on the contrary, he was inspired with renewed
zeal and energy; and I can put into the mouth of my hero the immortal
words which Milton spoke to the Duke of Wellington, at the siege of
Yorktown:
"Once more into the breach, dear friends!"
Well, after the tarm of his banishment had expired, he returned to
Rome, and he found that Caesar had died again, and that Alexander the
Great had succeeded him. Well, he made the same demand of Alexander
that he made of Mr. Caesar, but he met with a similar denial; but,
finally, through the intermediation of Cleopatra, (that was Aleck's
first wife,) he ultimately succeeded.
It is unnecessary for me to go into a detail of his outfit and voyage.
Suffice it to say, that, after having been tossed about upon waves
that ran mountain-high, all his crew was lost, except himself and a
small boy, and they were thrown upon the state of insensibility.
Well, when he came-to, he rose up, in the majesty of his strength, and
found he was upon an island; so he pulled out his red cotton bandana
handkercher, tied it to a fish-pole, and rared the stake of Alexander,
and took formal possession of the territory in his name, and he called
it San Salvador; that was in honor of Cleopatra's eldest daughter.
Well now, you see, Cleopatra was so well pleased with the honor
conferred upon her daughter, that she migrated to this country for to
settle; hence you see the long line of distinguished antecedents that
she left here previously, and they are known as _pat_riots, from
Cleo_patra_.
Now, sir, having accomplished the great and paramount object of his
life, he was ready for to die. The natives, therefore, for intrudin'
upon their sile, tuk him prisoner, stripped him of his hunting-shirt
and other clothing, tarred and feathered him, and rid him on a rail!
Thus perished that truly great and good man, who lived and died for
mankind. One more remark, Mr. President, and then I am done; and I lay
it down as a particular pint in my argument. If it had not have been
for Mr. Kerlumbus, Mr. Washington would never have been born; besides
all this, Mr. Washington was a coward. With these remarks, I leave the
floor to abler hands.
[Here Mr. SLABSIDES arose, much excited at hearing Mr.
Washington called a coward, and said:]
Mr. President: I, sir, for one, am sureptaciously surprised at the
quiet manner in which you have listened to the base suspersions cast
upon that glorious and good man. Mr. Washington a coward! Why, sir,
lockjawed be the mouth that spoke it. Mr. Washington a coward! Mr.
President, my blood's a-bilin' at the idea. Why, sir, look at him at
the battle of Tippecanoe! Look at him at the battle of Sarah Gordon!
Look at him at the battle of New Orleans! Did he display cowardice
thar, sir, or at any of the similar battles that he fout? I ask you,
sir, did he display cowardice at the battle of New Orleans?
[Mr. GARROTTE arose, and responded to the question. Said he:]
The gentleman will allow me to correct him, one moment. Mr.
Washington, sir, never fit the battle of New Orleans. He couldn't have
fout that battle, for he'd been dead more'n _two weeks_ afore that ar
battle was ever fout. He never fit the battle of New Orleans.
Mr. Slabsides.--Will the gentleman--will Mr. Garrotte please state who
it was that fit the battle of New Orleans? The gentleman has seen fit
to interrupt me; will he please to state who it was fit the battle of
New Orleans?
Hon. Felix Garrotte.--If the gentleman will have patience to turn to
Josephus, or read Benjamin Franklin's History of the Black-Hawk War,
you will thar learn, sir, that it was General Douglas that fit the
battle of New Orleans.
Mr. Slabsides.--I thank my very learned opponent, not only for his
instructions, but more especially for his corrections, in which he has
shown himself totally ignorant of history, men, and things. I contend,
Mr. President, notwithstanding the gentleman's assertion to the
contrary, that Mr. Washington not only fit the battle of New Orleans,
but that he is _alive now_, sir! I have only to pint you, Mr.
President, and gentlemen of this lyceum, to his quiet and retired home
at _Sandoval_, on the banks of the Tombigbee River, whar he now
resides, conscious of his private worth and of the glorious
achievements heaped upon his grateful brow by his aged countrymen; and
allow me to call your attention to the fact that General Douglas never
fit the battle of New Orleans. He couldn't have fout that battle,
cause he was dead. Yes, sir, and I can prove it, if you'll have the
patience to turn and look over Horace Greeley's History of the Kansas
Hymn-book War; for there you will find that General Douglas, at the
head of an army of negroes, made a desperate charge on Mason and
Dixon's line, and Horace said he never breathed afterward.
[Hereupon the speaker left in disgust at the ignorance of
his opponent.]
A SERMON FROM THE HARP OF A THOUSAND STRINGS.
Preached before General Rosecrans and Staff.
My Beluved Brethering:
I am a plain and unlarnt preacher, of whom you've no doubt heern on
afore; and I now appear to expound the scripters, and pint out the
narrow way which leads from a vain world to the streets of the
Juroosalum; and my tex which I shall choose for the occasion is
somewhar between the second Chronikills and the last chapter of
Timothy Titus, and when found you will find it in these words: "And
they shall gnaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam, whar
the lion roareth and the whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born."
Now, my beluved brethering, as I have afore told you, I am an
unedicated man, and know nothing about grammar talk and collidge
highfaluting; but I'm a plain, unlarnt preacher of the Gospil, what's
been foreordained, and called to expound the scripters to a dyin'
world, and prepare a perverse generation for the day of wrath; "for
they shall gnaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam, whar
the lion roareth and the whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born."
My beluved brethering, the text says "they shall gnaw a file." It
don't say they _may_, but they _shall_. And now, there's more'n one
kind of file: there's the hand-saw file, rat-tail file, single file,
double file, and profile; but the kind of file spoken of here isn't
one of them kind neither, because it's a figger of speech, my
brethering, and means goin' it alone, getting ukered; "for they shall
gnaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam, whar the lion
roareth and the whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born."
And now, there be some here with fine clothes on thar backs, brass
rings on thar fingers, and lard on thar har, what goes it while
they're young; and thar be brothers here what, as long as thar
constitutions and forty-cent whisky last, goes it blind; and thar be
sisters here what, when they get sixteen years old, cut thar
tiller-ropes and goes it with a rush. But I say, my brethering, take
care you don't find, when Gabriel blows his last trump, that you've
all went it alone and got ukered; "for they shall gnaw a file, and
flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam."
And, my brethering, there's more dam beside Hepsidam: thar's
Rotterdam, Haddam, Amsterdam, mill-dam, and don't-care-a-dam; the last
of which, my dear brethering, is the worst of all, and reminds me of a
circumstance I once knew in the State of Illinoy. There was a man what
built him a mill on the east fork of Auger Creek, and it was a good
mill, and ground a site of grain; but the man what built it was a
miserable sinner, and never give any thing to the church; and, my
brethering, one night thar come a dreadful storm of wind and rain, and
the fountains of the great deep was broken up, and the waters rushed
down and swept that man's mill-dam into kingdom come, and, lo, and
behold! in the morning, when he got up, he found he was not worth a
dam. Now, my young brethering, when storms of temptation overtake ye,
take care you don't fall from grace, and become like that mill--not
worth a dam; "for they shall gnaw a file, and flee unto the mountains
of Hepsidam, whar the lion roareth and the whang-doodle mourneth for
its first-born."
"Whar the whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born." This part of the
tex, my brethering, is another figger of speech, and isn't to be taken
as it says. It doesn't mean the howlin' wilderness whar John the
Hard-shell Baptist was fed on locusts and wild asses; but it means, my
brethering, the city of New Yorleans, whar corn is worth six bits a
bushel one day, and nary red the next; whar gamblers, thieves, and
pickpockets go skiting about the streets like weasels in a barnyard;
whar they have cream-colored hosses, gilded carriages, marble saloons
with brandy and sugar in 'em; whar honest men are scarcer than hens'
teeth; and whar a strange woman once tuk in your beluved preacher, and
bamboozled him out of two hundred and twenty-seven dollars; but she
can't do it again, hallelujah! For "they shall gnaw a file, and flee
unto the mountains of Hepsidam, whar the lion roareth and the
whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born."
Brother Flint will please pass round the hat, and let every Hard-shell
shell out.
THE END.
RICKEY & CARROLL'S
LIST OF PUBLICATIONS.
_N. B.--Any Book sent by Mail, postage paid, on receipt of price._
=Lawson on Consumption.=
A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON PHTHISIS PULMONALIS: Embracing its Pathology,
Causes, Symptoms, and Treatment. By L. M. LAWSON, M. D., Professor of
the Theory and Practice of Medicine in the Medical College of Ohio;
formerly Professor of Clinical Medicine in the University of
Louisiana, and Visiting Physician to the New Orleans Charity Hospital,
etc.
One vol., 8vo.; pp. 557; Sheep Price, =$3.50=.
* * * * *
=Flourens on the Circulation of the Blood.=
A HISTORY OF THE DISCOVERY OF THE CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD. By P.
FLOURENS, Perpetual Secretary of the Academy of Sciences, (Institute
of France); Member of the Royal Societies and Academies of Science of
London, Edinburgh, Stockholm, Munich, Madrid, Brussels, etc., etc.,
and Professor at the Museum of Natural History of Paris. Translated
from the French by J. C. REEVE, M. D.
One vol., 16mo.; Cloth Price, =75c=.
* * * * *
=Newton and Powell on the Eclectic Practice of Medicine.=
THE ECLECTIC PRACTICE OF MEDICINE (DISEASES OF CHILDREN). By Wm. BYRD
POWELL, M. D., formerly Professor of Chemistry in the Medical College
of Louisiana, and of Cerebral Physiology and Medical Geology in the
Memphis Institute; Professor of Cerebral Physiology in the Eclectic
Medical Institute, etc., etc. And R. S. NEWTON, M. D., Professor of
Surgery and Surgical Practice in the Eclectic Institute of Cincinnati,
and formerly Professor of Practice and Pathology in the same, etc.
One vol., 8vo.; Sheep Price, =$3.50=.
* * * * *
=Mystic Circle.=
THE MYSTIC CIRCLE, AND AMERICAN HAND-BOOK OF MASONRY. Containing a
Brief History of Freemasonry in Europe and America; Symbolic Chart;
Ancient Constitutions of the Grand Lodge of England; Ahiman Rezon;
Constitutional Rules, Resolutions, Decisions, and Opinions of Grand
Lodges and Enlightened Masons on Questions liable to arise in
Subordinate Lodges; a Code of By-laws for Subordinate Lodges;
Instructions, Suggestions, and Forms, for Secretaries of Lodges. By
George H. GRAY, Sen., of Mississippi. Fourth edition. Revised and
corrected.
Large 12mo.; pp. 472; Roan Price, =$2.00=.
* * * * *
=Zachos' High-School Speaker.=
THE HIGH-SCHOOL SPEAKER: A Collection of Declamations, Poetic Pieces,
and Dialogues, for the use of Boys in Intermediate Schools and
Academies. By Prof. J. C. ZACHOS, A. M.
16mo.; half-bound Price, =75c=.
* * * * *
=Trial of Vallandigham.=
THE TRIAL OF CLEMENT L. VALLANDIGHAM, BY A MILITARY COMMISSION, and
the Proceedings under his Application for a Writ of Habeas Corpus in
the Circuit Court of the United States for the Southern District of
Ohio.
One vol., 8vo.; pp. 272; Paper; Price, 75c. Law Sheep Price, =$2.00=.
* * * * *
R. & C. are also the Special Agents for
=Annals of the Army of the Cumberland.=
COMPRISING BIOGRAPHIES, DESCRIPTIONS OF DEPARTMENTS, ACCOUNTS OF
EXPEDITIONS, SKIRMISHES, AND BATTLES; also, its Police Record of
Spies, Smugglers, and Prominent Rebel Emissaries: Together with
Anecdotes, Incidents, Poetry, Reminiscences, etc., and Official
Reports of the Battle of Stone River. By an Officer. Illustrated with
Steel Portraits, Wood Engravings, and Maps.
One vol., 8vo.; pp. 671 Price, =$3.50=.
Also, a fine edition, elegantly bound in Cloth, gilt Price, =$5.00=.
This book is elegantly gotten up, on the finest paper, and is
copiously illustrated with engravings on steel. The proceeds of the
sale of this work are to be applied to the patriotic purpose of
erecting a monument on the battle-field of Stone River, to the army
which there immortalized itself.
* * * * *
=Catalogue Raisonne.=
A GENERAL AND CLASSIFIED LIST OF THE MOST IMPORTANT WORKS in nearly
every Department of Literature and Science, published in the United
States and England. With a Bibliographical Introduction.
12mo.; pp. 259; Paper Price, =25c=.
* * * * *
=Medical Catalogue.=
CATALOGUE OF MEDICAL AND SURGICAL PUBLICATIONS for sale by RICKEY &
CARROLL.
12mo.; pp. 40; Paper Price, =3c=.
* * * * *
=Law Catalogue.=
CATALOGUE OF LAW BOOKS for sale by RICKEY & CARROLL.
8vo.; pp. 94; Paper Price, =6c=.
* * * * *
=Sioux Massacre in Minnesota.=
A HISTORY OF THE MASSACRE OF THE WHITE INHABITANTS OF THE BORDER
COUNTIES OF MINNESOTA BY THE SIOUX INDIANS, in August, 1862, with its
Antecedents and Consequences; including the Personal Narratives of
many who Escaped. By Charles S. BRYANT, A. M., of St. Peter, Minn.
12mo.; pp. 500; Cloth Price, =$1.50=.
In a letter to Mr. Bryant, Governor Henry A. Swift, of Minnesota,
says:
"Your position was such that you could not fail fully to understand
the thrilling events of which your history treats; and those who know
you will not doubt your ability to array the facts in your possession
in such a manner as to give the reader a truthful and highly
interesting account of the times of which you are writing."
Hon. Peter G. Washington says:
"The narratives are of thrilling interest; and, given as they are,
either in the handwriting or directly from the lips of those who,
miraculously escaping the perils of the tomahawk, the rifle, and
starvation, both saw and suffered, from the incidents they relate,
bear throughout the unmistakable impress of truth, and must carry
conviction to the mind of every reader."
IN PRESS:
=Arguments and Addresses.=
By Hon. William JOHNSTON, formerly Judge of the Superior Court of
Cincinnati.
8vo.; about 500 pages; Cloth.
* * * * *
RICKEY & CARROLL,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in Books and Stationery,
73 West Fourth Street, (Opera-House Building,)
CINCINNATI, OHIO.