While circle into circle breaking, Upon dim shores of God's illimitable space!'" both parties told their story, when the Squire said, "Now ef you find that Mr. Thompson telled more truth than Harrison, then you find for the plaintiff'; and ef Harrison telled more truth than Thompson, then you find for the defendant." This impartial charge was greatly applauded by the spectators. OUR little five-year-old had been to church last ONE of our city subscribers sends the following Sunday with her mother, while I was detained at to the Drawer: home. I asked the child what the minister said to the people. "He didn't say any thing," she answered; "he only preached." "What," said I-" didn't he tell you how to be good?" "No, he didn't say any thing-only preached.” The child's idea seemed to be that the preacher preached, but said nothing to the people—certainly nothing that a child could receive as addressed to Judge G was a Justice of the Supreme Court in the western part of the State of New York a short time before the rebellion broke out, but while the distant mutterings of its thunders could be heard. The Judge was as renowned for his solid learning and patriotism as he was for a certain quaintness of expression, that ofttimes produced a laugh in court, to the great surprise of the Judge. One day a feigned issue in a divorce suit, involving abandonment and desertion on the part of the guilty party,her. was on trial at the Circuit, and the counsel for the plaintiff, who sometimes indulged in "spread eagles," was in the very climax of his rhapsody, when, turning for a moment from the jury, whom he was addressing, to the Court, he said, "What would your Honor do, I would like to know, if a portion of the States of this glorious Union should shoot madly from their spheres,' and attempt the destruction of the nation ?" "What would I dew ?" asked the Judge; "why, I'd try and shute them back." It may be added that the Judge, who is still upon the bench, adheres to the same opinion. THE story of a fog so thick that a man shingled right out on it from the roof of a barn, reminds a correspondent of the Drawer of the following very much of a mist in the West: Some seven years ago there was an engineer on the Chicago, Alton, and St. Louis Railroad who was called by all the railroad men "General Taylor." Fogs are an everyday affair in the part of the country which the road passes through, especially between Chicago and Bloomington. Early one morning, in the month of April, the General left Bloomington with the Express. Before he reached Pontiac a very thick fog had risen, so thick that he could not see the length of the engine. The General told the conductor, while taking wood at P, that if there were any cattle killed that morning it would not be his fault. "How so?" said the conductor. "Why," said the General, "because I must get an auger to bore through the fog to see the pilot, which is the only way to prevent it; for I looked out, and when I drew my head back there was a round hole left where I put out my head!" THE numerous readers of the Drawer in the Western part of the State will recognize the fidelity of the following: A few years since there lived in S- - a firm of lawyers-Henry, Miles, and Wood. Wood, the junior member of the firm, was the senior in years of the others, and was generally called by them "Judge." Among many good qualities, one characteristic of the firm was great vanity. Henry was vain of his person, Miles was vain of Henry, and the "Judge" was vain of his professional relation to the other two. Apparently a strong desire was felt by all the members to create the belief in the community that the firm was overwhelmed with business. Accordingly, if one of the members was going down street to adjourn a case in the Justice's Court, he generally picked up all the loose papers from his table to flourish at the public. The new court-house in S had just been completed, and Judge Porter, who generally perceived humbug when it was attempted, was holding the first Special Term, and the house was filled with lawyers and others. After the ex parte business was disposed of, Henry arose and said he had motion papers sent him from a distance to change the place of trial; and, naming the title of the cause, inquired if any one present had papers from the other side to oppose the motion? Whereupon Miles, with much simulated surprise, arose from a distant part of the room, and said he had the papers upon the other side." The lawyers present immediately "smelt a mice," and commenced winking significantly to one another; and Judge Porter remarked "that it must be quite embarrassing to any firm to do so much business that different members could receive papers upon both sides of the same case without being aware of it; and that he thought he would refer the motion to Judge Wood for decision, as, under the circumstances, he would probably be entirely neutral!" A CARTHAGINIAN, a dweller in Carthage, Jefferson County, New York, vouches for the truth of what follows: At the second battle of Bull Run the famous Thirty-fifth Regiment, from Jefferson County, New York, suffered terribly, and efforts were immediately made by the friends at home to fill its thinned ranks. Among the first to spring to the rescue was one Augustus Buel-"Gus" we call him-who is famous as a hunter in John Brown's Tract, and distinguished for being a capital fellow and an excel lent marksman. His Uncle, Deacon Weatherby, met Gus a day or two after he had enlisted. "Well, Augustus," said the Deacon, "I understand you have enlisted in the Thirty-fifth." "Yes, I have," said Gus; "and I am to start for the regiment to-morrow morning.” In the July number I saw a communication from a rebel prisoner, situated as I now am, who spoke my sentiments exactly regarding the Drawer. With him, I regard it as one of the few remaining institutions which exert any influence in binding together all the sections of this once glorious and happy Union. Ah well I remember the feelings of pleasure with which I would open a new num"That's right, my boy; that's right! I am very ber of Harper's, after the toil and cares of the busy day glad you have enlisted. You shall have my prayers were over, surrounded with the love and peace and easy and my blessing. And now, Augustus, let me give repose of my then quiet and happy home. That home is you a little advice. When you go into battle, and now in ashes; the angel-like partner of my joys and cares, have your gun well charged and in good order, and my prosperity and reverses, now sleeps quietly beneath the order is given to advance on the rebels, I want the parched sod of Texas; my jovial friends and genial you, my dear boy, to remember the Scriptural in-associates are scattered and dead and gone; and here I junction-It is more blessed to give than to receive."" The boys of the Thirty-fifth all agree that Gus heeded the old man's counsel. A READER of the Drawer in Springfield, Illinois, writes of a regiment stationed at Alton, and famous as the "Gray Beard Regiment," every man being over forty-five years of age. They were there to guard rebel prisoners, among whom was the notorious Jeff Thompson. He was about to be removed, with others, to Johnson's Island, and on his march out he saw these veterans, and remarked, “Well, it's no wonder the Federal soldiers fight well, if these are their fathers!" A RELIGIOUS friend in Ohio writes to the Drawer: A few years ago there dwelt in one of the wealthiest sections of the State a host of rich relatives by the name of Brown-all, or nearly all of whom belonged to the church. They were among the most prominent and influential, if not the most exemplary, members of the congregation; and at prayermeetings they generally monopolized the "privileges." They were all "gifted" in prayer, and consequently did the most of it. On one occasion, however, the class-leader bethought himself of a poor but worthy brother who was present, and whom he had never called upon to pray before, and the following dialogue took place: am, on a pile of straw in a nigger-yard! Well, it is useless to repine. I cast my lot with the cause I considered to be right, and to that cause my life shall be devoted. But that is not pertinent to the purpose I have in view. I sat down this morning not to moralize, but to offer some contributions to the friend of my prosperous days-the Drawer. Fable tells us of a precious stone extracted from the toad's head: will you reject a good thing from the hands of a loathsome rebel? The only property I have saved from the general wreck of my estate was that which I prized the most highlymy library, and in it are twenty bound volumes of Harper's Magazine; and the first thing I will do, "when this cruel war is over," if I survive it, will be to send for all the subsequent back numbers up to date. My books were saved by a political enemy but a personal friend. John Pine and myself resided for many years in the same village, in the western part of Missouri-a section of country that has witnessed the most outrageous horrors of all this war. John and myself always differed in our political views, but were all along bound to each other by the truest friendship. On the commencement of the war I was, of course, a rebel; my friend, as naturally, stuck to the old Union, and is now a big radical of our State. When General Price cam up with his victorious army from Wilson Creek my friend John concluded it would not be pleasant for him to stay at home and make the acquaintance of the chivalry. So he left, first sending over to my house, for safe keeping, his horses, mules, carriage, wagon, etc., and other personal effects not convenient to carEvery thing went smoothly for a ry away with him. while; but when it became evident that we had to fall back transportation was an important item, and parties were detailed to press from the Union citizens every thing CLASS-LEADER. "I see Brother Smith is here. that would facilitate a "change of base" in the shortest pos Brother Smith, will you lead in prayer?" BROTHER SMITH. "I'm not gifted; excuse me. Let another one of the Browns pray!" The congregation all saw the point, and the rebuke was so just that it effectually put an end to the Brown monopoly of privileges in that congregation. Ax officer of the "C. S. A.," now a prisoner in the Myrtle Street Military Prison, St. Louis, writes us the following long letter, containing some capital stories. We are glad to learn that the first thing he did after becoming an involuntary guest of our esteemed Uncle Samuel was to "eat a good deal." Not a few of the "involuntary guests" at Richmond would be happy to be able to follow his example in this respect. We hope to hear more from our pleasant friend some of these days when we are all Union men again: DEAR OLD DRAWER,-This den in which I now have my lair was formerly known as Lynch's Nigger-yard, and used as such. It is now a military prison; and I, an officer of the C. S. A., am sojourning here, an unprivileged guest of the great Uncle Samuel. The first thing I did on getting in here, after eating a good deal, was to send for Harper's Magazine, and read, first the contents of the Drawer, then all the balance. It was like communing with an old, much-beloved friend, from whom I had been long separated-soothing to the spirit and comforting to the soul. sible time. Some busy-body reported to General Price that I was concealing and protecting the property of a "rank Unionist," which the army stood particularly in need of; and forthwith I was ordered to appear at head-quarters to answer the charges. In those days of the rebellion's ined all such matters himself, and disposed of them in a cipiency in Missouri the general commanding investigatsummary manne". On appearing before "old Pap" he at once informed me of the charges brought against me, and asked me if I did not have at that time in my possession certain horses, mules, harness, wagons, etc., belonging to one John Pine. Being taken completely by surprise, I promptly answered in the affirmative; but, on a moment's reflection, and before the General could issue an order relative to the case, I added, "The property you mention, General, did belong to this man Pine, but that Abolitionist owed me a large debt, and I had to take it or nothing; and I would like to keep it to secure myself." This rejoinder was successful, and I was permitted to keep the property. Not long after this the "ruthless invader" who fought "mit Sigel" marched upon us, and we made a "brilliant strategic retrograde movement" upon the Arkansas mountains. On the eve of my departure from my dear old home -alas! for the last time I sent to Pine's house all his property, together with my own library, paintings, etc. The invader came, my house, outhouses, fencing, etc., were burned, and my family turned out in the night with only their sleeping clothes. Time rolled on, and Missouri remained in the possession of the "Gamble militia;" and the personal property of the rebels was confiscated without process of law, but in accordance with the time-worn maxim that "to the victors belong the spoils." My friend ing at once, he advanced eagerly to the General, with extended hand and a hearty "Bless my soul, Joe! how do you do?-what on earth are you doing here?" The General saw the man was mistaken, but answered him pleas Pine resumed business and prospered. His prosperity, as | eral M'Culloch, and seemed to recognize him. Dismountis always the case, excited the envy of some, who, to injure or annoy him, reported to the provost marshal that he was concealing and protecting the property of a notorious rebel. Upon this John was immediately arrested and tried. He plead Not Guilty, and denied all knowl-antly, and invited him to partake of our lunch, to which edge of the charge. Hereupon a witness was introduced, who testified positively that he had seen in Mr. Pine's house some "several volumes of Harper's Magazine, and other books, with the name of Dr. J. F. Smith, a noted rebel, formerly of that place," and which he knew did belong to said Smith; also "some paintings, etc., belonging to the same person, now in the rebel army.' "What have you to say to that, Mr. Pine?" said the to start on, when he said to his Texan co-patriot, "My provost. "Why, if that's all," he blandly replied, “I can easily explain it to your satisfaction. The books, etc., were Smith's, I admit; but he owed me a large debt, and when the rebel ran away I had to take that trumpery or nothing." And that rejoinder" saved me my dumb but most excellent companions. General Magruder is a brave officer and kind man, but filled with as much vanity, self-conceit, and pomposity as— as any general in the Federal army is. Shortly after the war commenced he was sitting one day in a restaurant in Richmond, enjoying, solu, a twelve o'clock déjeuner with rigid dignity, every button of his splendid uniform exactly in situ, and his immaculate shirt-collar adjusted at precisely the proper angle. He had hardly tested the merits of his repast when in sauntered a tall, long-haired, redshirted private of the Louisiana First, which regiment had just arrived in the city. With the utmost coolness redshirt sat himself down in the vacant chair opposite the General, and let into the good things before him with a zest that plainly told of long marches and previous scanty rations. This was too much for the aristocratic old office!. Drawing himself up à la General Scott, and with one of his severest frowns and the harshest voice he could command, he exclaimed, in tones of evident disgust, "Sir, what do you mean? Do you know at whose table you are sitting!" The soldier, scarcely looking up, replied, in the interval between a bite and a drink, "I know I am dreadful hungry; and I ain't a bit particular who I eat with since I've gone soldiering !" said lunch and demijohn aforesaid the stranger did full and ample justice. He told the General (for to him he addressed all his conversation, as to an old friend) that he was a volunteer, and had joined Colonel Stone's regiment of Texan Rangers, and that he intended to fight with "old Ben M'Culloch until we gained our independence." Old Ben enjoyed the man's mistake until we were about ready friend, I reckon you are mistaken as to who you have been talking to; I don't think you know me, and perhaps have never seen me before." "You be darned!" said butternut; "I would know you, Joe, if I was to meet you in Africa." "Well, now," said the General, getting tired of his new friend's familiarity, "who do you take me for, any way?" "Take you for?" retorted Texas, earnestly; "I don't take you for any body; I know you to be Joe Baxter, what staid in the Perkins settlement, in Collins County, all last summer, a sellin' chain-pumps and puttin' up lightnin'rods!" There is a small town on the North Missouri Railroad called Renick; and Renick is a hard place-a very hard place. In the car, the other day, sitting in a seat near me, with his feet upon the cushions and his hat down over his eyes, was a flashy but dirty-looking individual, evidently some "three sheets" gone-indeed he was "maudlin drunk." The Conductor, in coming around, gave him a shove and aroused him with a short-"Ticket, Sir!" "Ain't got none," said Loafer. "Pay your fare then." "How much is it?" demanded the fellow. "Where are you going to?" inquired the Conductor. "Guess I'm-[hic]-goin'-[hic]-to the devil!" spoke Loafer, with some air of truthfulness. "Then," said the Conductor, "pay your fare to Renick-$5.70!" The following may be old, but it is as true as Gospel: In Southwest Missouri, where I used to live, there resided several years ago an excellent old farmer by the name of Lanceford. He was a stanch Democrat, of While we were lying in Mississippi General Price ap-course, and the party had rewarded his faithful services pointed to our regiment, as chaplain, an old Ironside--a man of fine qualitics of both head and heart, and who gave promise of securing the affections of the whole command. A few days after, meeting with one of our captains of the same denomination as the chaplain, I asked him how he liked our new preacher. by electing him Judge of the County Court. He was very proud of his prominent position, and filled the station, if not with ability, at least with dignity. A short time after the Judge's elevation the "unterrified" held "a large and enthusiastic meeting" in the county, and Judge Lanceford was chosen chairman. While presiding over the deliberations of the body one of his sons came into town "under whip and spur," and, rushing into the meeting, he told his father that the prairie was on fire, that the farm was "Well," I replied, "he is evidently a man of fine sense in danger of being destroyed, and that his mother wanted and good impulses; may I ask what that fault is you al-him to go out immediately and assist in "fighting the “Oh," said he, “I have known Parson Kathcart for many years; and if it was not for one small fault he has, I would think him a Number One minister." lude to?" Don't understand me as censuring the parson at all: he is a fine preacher and a good man; but what I dislike about him is, that he will swear whenever he gets drunk." General Ben M'Culloch was in many particulars a remarkable man. Though a very common-looking person, he was very vain of his personal appearance and proud of his fame. Not long before the fatal battle of Pea Ridge I happened to fall in company with General M'Culloch when on his return from Richmond. The party consisted of the General, Captain Armstrong, his A. A. G., and Colonel Snyder, of the Missouri army, with two or three black servants, traveling in a four-mule ambulance. We had stopped for lunch by the wayside, about two days' travel from Fort Smith, in Arkansas, and were discussing the prospects of the Confederacy and the contents of a basket and a demijohn, when a stranger rode up and inquired the way to Colonel Stone's winter-quarters. The stranger was a perfect specimen of the genus "butternut." He was dressed in bilious-looking jeans, with a home-made hat and coarse boots, and wore his hair and beard very long. He was mounted on a good horse, and carried on his shoulder a long, old-fashioned rifle. Before any of us had time to answer his inquiries he cast his eyes on Gen fire." Hereupon the Judge assumed all the dignity of a Roman Senator, and speaking very deliberately, in a voice lond enough to be heard all over the room, he said, "My son, go back and tell your mother to do the best she can. I can not go at present, as I have matters of more importance to attend to!" IN Western Virginia there is a correspondent of the Drawer who writes: The people of West Virginia have very queer ideas about our soldiers, and some of them were amusingly developed to the cavalrymen who made the recent raid on Wytheville. Among the officers was a certain Captain Y, who has a remarkable fondness for buttermilk as a beverage, and who is in the habit of calling for it constantly at the farm-houses which he passes when "on a scout." Wytheville he, with others, halted before a respectOn the road to able-looking house, when they were met at the door by the frightened inmates with cries of, "The Yan kees have come! the Yankees have come!" and one of them, "a virgin on to forty," stretched forth her hands, and with the most imploring gestures exclaimed, "Gentlemen, burn my house, destroy my property, do what you will; but spare my honor!" "Confound your honor!" said the irate Captain Y; "have you got any buttermilk?" The fears of the virtuous lady were speedily calmed. H. P. JONES, of is something of an orator, a Lieutenant-Colonel in "Lincoln's fighting stock," a brave man, and last election-day was rather high. He had a crowd or so of our good citizens around him, and was transferring to them some of his surplus patriotism. As he was enlarging on the sufferings of his command, the following words struck me as peculiarly "bully:" "Out of the hundreds of brave boys who went with me to that bloody field, lived only three men who could raise their voice as I do now in support of the flag under which they died!" ABOUT ten years since there were living in Great Falls, Hew Hampshire, two clergymen whose names were M'Collum and Hooper. Their difference of opinion on creeds and tenets did not prevent them from being warm friends. Meeting on the sidewalk one summer morning, M'Collum says, "Come, Hooper, let's take a walk." Hooper, looking up at the sky, answered, "I think I won't; I am afraid it is going to rain." "What!" says Mac, "you a Baptist and afraid of water!" "Oh no," replied Hooper; "it is not the water, but the method of application that I object to." We hope to hear often from the Baltimore lawyer who sends these interesting incidents: Two young lawyers had been employed to oppose Latham. When the case was called he arose, somewhat under the influence of his favorite beverage, and moved to dismiss the case in the following speech: "May it please your Honor, I move to dismiss this case. There is no use in trying it: my young brothers on the opposite side know nothing about it; neither the present complainant nor defendant know any thing about it; and, may it please your Honor, I only remember it as a matter of ancient history!” WHILE writing of the bar I have thought of a singular coincidence that happened with regard to the death of Judge Underwood, of Georgia, who was well known to every reader of the Drawer, for he has often figured in your columns. Judge Underwood died at Marietta, Georgia, in the summer of 1859. I had the honor to be chairman of a committee of the bar to escort his remains to Atlanta, and the following circumstance was related by one of the committee: Some years before that, and before Marietta was the beautiful inland city and summer resort for the wealth and fashion of Lower Georgia that it now is, Judge Underwood was there attending court. At the close of the term, when he was about going away, he remarked to General Hansell, "General, when my time comes to die, I am coming to Marietta to die." "Ah!" replied the General, "I'm glad you think so much of our little town." "It is not that," replied the Judge. "It's because I can leave it with less regret than any other place on the face of the earth." Sure enough he did die there. He came on the train about twelve o'clock; was taken suddenly ill at dinner, about one o'clock, and in half an hour was dead. must, in conversation, confound the modern with the ancient, the solemn with the ludicrous, the sacred with the profane, etc. Last week, only, I was talking with an old and honored lady friend of the virtues of the past and the especial vices of the pres When the present war commenced I was practicing law in the State of Georgia. I was a strong I HAVE, says a friend, been very recently remindUnion man, and concluded to leave the land of seces-ed that we have still among us those who will or sion and return to my native city. I started for Mobile to run the blockade; when I reached Montgomery, Alabama, I found I would have to remain until the next day. That evening, after tea, there was a large crowd in the rotunda of the hotel, and the war was, of course, the general theme of con-ent times, and mutually consoled ourselves with the versation. "War!-war to the death!" was nearly the only expression that could be heard. Every body was volunteering, and the whole city seemed to be in uniform. In the midst of the excitement a little boy, about five years old, came out of one of the parlors dressed in the full uniform of a Confederate Captain. He looked so pretty and smart that I patted him on the head, saying, "You're a very little man to be a soldier." He turned, measured me with his eye, and replied, "You're a very big man not to be a soldier!" The crowd appreciated it, and I paid for the liquor. Now I will give you one on one of our Georgia lawyers. Latham, as he is familiarly called, is about forty-five or fifty years old, noted for his fondness of "corn-juice" and the many capital hits he makes while under its influence. He was engaged by the defendant in a Chancery suit which had been "dragging its slow length along" for quite a number of years; the complainant and defendant were both dead, and new parties had accordingly been made. The counsel for the complainant had died; so that of all the original parties Latham alone remained. belief that truth and virtue triumphed finally over all its enemies. "Yes, yes," she exclaimed, "only think of the little David, who was raised from a poor shepherd boy of Salisbury Plain to become the slayer of the great Goliath and the King of Israel!" FROM Folly Island, South Carolina, a military correspondent writes: The late lamented Lieutenant-Colonel Purviance was almost as distinguished for his wit and general intelligence as for his gallantry and fidelity to duty under the most trying circumstances in which a soldier can be placed. During the siege of Battery Wagner, and only a few days previous to his death, the regiment of which he had command was ordered to the front for duty in the trenches. In Company C was a private soldier by the name of Brethwait, who was unguardedly exposing his person to the fire of the rebel sharp-shooters. After the said Brethwait had been several times admonished by his captain to "Keep that head down," the Colonel remarked, "Never mind, Captain, he will soon be breathless." |