Chapter 65

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 Cæsar 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 Cæsar had died again, and that Alexander the Great had succeeded him. Well, he made the same demand of Alexander that he made of Mr. Cæsar, 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.