“ VERITAS OMEIROTEJNS.’’ J. H. BALDING, Publisher:
-- ■ ■■ — • --- -- '■ --T— --a
_DES ARC, A_rilv„ -T ULY 14, 1866. _3STUMBER 80.
Ii*c Citizen.
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CASH HEATERS 15
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Groceries and Provisions.
ALSO
RECEITI5G and FORW ARDI5G
MERCHANTS,
Des Arc, Arkansas.
THE highest market price paid for Wheat,
Dry Hides, and all country produce.
_ Agents for the sale of Monuments,
Tombstones and every description of Wone
wotk. WARNER 4 EDWARDS
PosA-M, Fobwary ?*, 15^6'—
B. O, GILL, J. G. GILL,
GILL & BKO.,
Des Arct Ark.,
DEALERS IN
DRY GOODS,
Ready-Made Clothing, Hats,
CAPS, BOOTS, SHOES,
Hardware. Hollow Ware,
Queens ware, &c.
A LSO, KEEP A FULL SUPPLY OF Fam
ily Groceries and PLANTATION
SUPPLIES constantly on hand.
Will pay the highest market price for Cot
ton, Dry Hides and Produce of all kinds.
GILL & BROTHER
HAVE JUST RECEIVED A EilESII SUPPLY
OF ✓
Jtyriutj and gmmtt
GOODS,
WHICH THEY OFFER VERY LOW
for cash.
Call and examine, and you shall be convinced.
mayl2
19IIS. LAKV2 & BIME¥,
flesidcut fhgsifiaus
-A n i>
SUBGEONS,
ass
OFFEll their services to the citizens and
vicinity, in the various branches of their
professions. Office at Burney & Bro’s Drug
Store. mar8-ly
iIlTcejss7"
PHOTOGRAPH
ROOMS,
BcuaU's Bluff. JUfeansaa.
A Variety of PHOTOGRAPHIC
VIEW'S and ALBUMS always
on hand.
niar8-tf L. L. CROSS.^
TOM’S SALOON,”
i DEVALL'S BLDFF, ARK.
I vyrno WANTS A GOOD DRINK OF
1 W FINE LIQUOR!! TuU1 *
! now behind the Counter ol the
BEST SALOON
In the place, ready to hand out to all desiring
it, the Finest Liquors that the market affords.
No humbug! Give Tom a call, and if you
love good tilings, you will he satisfied,
mar 17-dm CARR & GALLAGHF.R.
SOL. Y. CLARK* SAM. W. WILLIAMS.
JOE W. MARTIN.
CLARK, WILLIAMS & MARTIN,
Attorneys at Law,
LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS.;
WILL practice in all the Courts, prosecute '
Claims of all kinds, collect debts, and
act as Rea! Estate and General Agents.
tick—Markham Street, near State House.
Vil28;^__1
Vt'2%- T- JONES,
AVSWAtX At SAW, |
BROWNSVILLE, ARKANSAS.
WILL praeikeo in the counties of Pulaski,
Prairie, Monroe, Woodruff, Jackson and
White Prompt attention given to the collec
tion of claims. apr!4-ly_ t
REGCLiR ST. LOI IS & WHITE
RIVER PACKET,
J. S- 3IcCUNE.
j ‘R. II. DUFFER, - - Master
C'“3EL"”I THIS swift and elegant
pffi.Zlfefty**-dq*l-st.oamer will ply regularly
ikT’ki.i son, between St. Louis and
during the seu at aR way landings.
Jacksonport, stoPl \ic| t0 orders sent for
Particular attention p GRAVES,
j goods. ALLLa . Agcntg.
marlT- _______
MEVIPHIS AND WHITE «?TBB
ML3II » PACKET,
peteolia.
i M. A. KNOX. * - - Jfa8'er*
j R. B. Majors, » - ’ v-u'r*‘
L. 3J2A-.t THIS steamer having
■ *K*2gl£olL<mtcrMl ibe above trade, vyU
I run regularly throughout.ths eea!"n. flUD'
Bead the following, and the next time
your “sweet shade” calls fix up j'our “bill:”
DEAREST EOME KISS ME.
A young lady wrote a3 follows :
“Dearest, come kiss me, my lips are yet
warm,
And my bosom still pants from the clasp of
thy arm ;
The blood dances wildly through each throb
biug vciu,
But 1 droop, oh! I droop for thy kisses
again.”
To which a very “fresh” young gentleman
promptly replied:
“Joe-roo-sa-lem, dearest. I dart like a fish:
My lips shall with kisses respond to thy
wish;
I'll check not the blood thrilling wild in each
vein,
But I’ll stop thee from drooping for kisses
again.
Then turn up thy bill love, I'll pounce like a
bird,
And through vale and through forest each
smack shall be heard,
If you sutler for kisses, I'm (bar “you may
bet.”
And I’ll kiss thee from morning till the sun
shall be set.
Come kiss thee! why thunder! I’m one of
that kind,
I’m the chap of all others you’re trying to
find ;
So you needu’t look further—I’m in for a
chauce,
Tho’ the blood may ‘cavort’ and your pulse it
muy dance.
iso bring on your truits, love—your kisses l
mean,
For I dream now of nothing but peaches and
cream;
j I’m waiting, and panting, and praying till
theu,
So come along, dearest as quick as you can.”
For the Des Arc Citizen ]
READING.
Reading is a profitable, interesting, and
highly entertaining exercise; and those
who have acquired this art. could not be
induced to pait with it for any considera
tion. It enables man to hold converse
I with all the peoples and ages of the past,
as well as of the present. It is through
this, as a medium, that the arts and sci
ences are treasured up; laws embodied,
sciences preserved, history extended, and
even the Book of Books transmitted from
age to age. Reading is the living oracle
to tongues and nations. But like most
other sweets, it has its bitters—with the
privilege is closely associated the abuse.
How otten are we bored by having thrust
upon our tympanums, unasked, uninvited,
the harsh, monotonous gratings of some
ill-timed sounds, that have as little system
! and less music than the sound of the saw
ing of an old gourd. Some self-important
intruder thrusts himself in, takes up a pa
per, seats himself and breaks forth as il
invited to come round to do the reading
for others. The worst readers are apt tc
be the most obtrusive. To them it seems
; a strange taste for music and harmony has
j been acquired, and surely, in all theii
j reading, they have failed to read Chester
1 field, or Blair, or Thackeray, or any othei
tutlior that speaks of politeness in compa
ny ; and often when such men have bored
i crowd so long and so painfully, they ap
propriate the paper and “vamose the
ranche.”
We have in Des Arc two weekly news
papers, that are manfully and energetical
ly struggling into life, with industrious,
public spirited men as proprietors and ed
itors, laboring earnestly, zealously to build
up and sustain these papers. Those men
ought to be sustained and liberally patron
ized; for who can estimate the influence
that these papers are exerting abroad in
favor of the city of Des Arc ? they are the
living oracles that throw eloquent appeals
to every point of the compass, and every
citizen of Des Arc is immediately inter
ested in the permanent success of our wor
thy friends who conduct these papers.
Then advertise liberally and let every man
subscribe for one or both of these papers,
and not go round from shop to shop, from
store to store, asking to see the last paper,
and having read it, put it in his pocket and
slip out. What is three dollars and liity
cents for the use ol a paper a whole year ?
What would you think of this town’s let
ting these papers starve or freeze out for
the want of public spirited patronage i
Take one minute and think about it. *
figyWt. Lebanon, La., is a hard place
for topers. The smallest quantity of spir
ituous liquor that can be sold, is three gal
lons.
How Sub Was Dbessed.—A New York re
porter, describing the dress of a lady at i
hall, says: She wore an excellent hyphalutir
| on her head, while her train was composed o
| transparent fol-de-rol, and her petticoat o
I cambambuli ficuoced with Brussels throe-pt;
of \ >’o. 1.
The Federal Soldiers* Soliloquy.
AVe find the following in the La Crosse
(Wis.) Democrat:
Good- bye, blue ruin! Go into the dye
tub—into the rag bag. anywhere out of
my sight- For three years I wore those
blue duds, and now, thank God, they are
off, and once more I am in command of
myself.
What the devil did I go to war for?
That’s the question. What did I eat hard
tack for—drink commissary whisky—carry
a mule’s load—sleep in the mud—suffer in
hospital and lose _this limb for ? Who
knows?
I enlisted to save the Union.
I went to war to put down the rebellion.
I fought to punish traitors.
I killed people to restore the harmony
of things.
I went to war because that was in old
times the way to patriotism.
And what was there gained? I had
thirteen dollars a month. I rode shank’s
mare from Bull Bun to Bed River, almost
for nothing.
I fought to keep this Union whole, and
now, when the war is ended, I am told that
fighting divided, and that legislation alone
can restore the Union! Then why in
thunder must I lose three years of time and
a limb if all this wory must be done by
Congress? Why were a million of us
killed by drunken, thieving, cotton stealing,
silver ware hunting, conceited, upstart,
political generals, who went up like rockets,
and came down like sticks, if Congress can
or could restore the Union bv legislation?
I went to war in good faith.
I fought a score of times, and the more
I fought uud the less I stole the slower
came promotion.
I helped make a dozen generals, fifty
colonels and a hundred officers rich.
I have lugged many a. piano, rosewood
bedstead, marble-top table, cabinet of books,
mahogany sofa and such stuff out of South
ern homes to be sent North for the use of
my superior officer, and the adornment of
his home in the North. This was the big
dart for puttig down the rebellion.
And I went to war for less wages than I
could have earned at home. And my wife
was often starving while 1 was away. A nd
my children became ragged and dirty—
my farm ran to weeds—my shop ran down
—my tools were stolen or lost—my place is
filled by another—1 came home a cripple,
tilled witli disease, and am now looked upon
by the same men wiio wanted me to go to
the war, much as people look upon some
dead beat who has gone through them for
all their spare change.
And the abolitionists who forgot to take
care of soldiers’ families—the abolitionists
who told us that the Democrats wanted
the Union dissolved—the abolitionists who
said the Democrats were traitors—the
abolitionists who staid at home and dare
not fight except in the form of a mob, in
the attack of some defenceless Democrat,
now tell us that—
The late war did not restore the Union.
The war was therefore a failure.
The white men of the North were no
match for the white nien of the South.
The war would have ended in defeat for
the North but for the niggers.
This is what Abolitionists tell us. "Reck
on they will have a good time getting us
returned soldiers engaged in another
crusade for cotton, niggers, mules and stolen
plunder, taken by force of the bayonet
from women and children.
It seems to me as if the late war was a
gag—a humbug —a wicked, treasonable,
unconstiutioual gag. It did not restore the
Union, but it made a pile of Abolitionists
and war Democrats rich
It never prevented secession, but left
this Union in the shape we did not find it.
It never benefitted any one North or
South, except thieving soldiers, army
chaplains, swindling contractors, drunken
officers, incompetent generals and other
such pets of the late administration.
It didn’t help the white people.
It didn’t help the niggers.
It impoverished half of the Union.
It didn’t make the South friendly to
Northern ideas, interest or people.
It piled a big debt upon us and took
from us two-thirds of our means to pay it.
And now I aiu back from the war to
find that I must pay the most exorbitant
taxes—and to find that old Grudgings, a
mean, narrow-minded, stay-at-home coward,
is rich, with a state full of U. S. bonds, for
which 1 must work the balance of my life
out to pay interest on, while he escapes
taxation, and lives in idleness. I had a
hundred dollars bounty to go to war Now
I come home to find the town, county, city
and State in debt for the money I had—
the wealth of the country is in bonds—the
school houses in ruins—the court houses,
&c., in ruins—the bond and their interest
to be paid besides all the other taxes, and
■ the holders of bonds living in luxurious
i idleness, with large incomes, and not one
1 cent of tax to pay anybody or lor any pur
i pose.
It was bad enough to fight for such
cowards.
It is bad enough to have it said we could
not have whipped the South without the
; aid of these high-flavored negro troops who
are now to be called our equals.
It is bad enough to have enormou taxes
■ to pay to repair the damages time and war
! j have wrought. But it’s worse than all to
: have to pay six bundred million dollars a
year of interest to the men who hold bonds
exempt from taxatin—in other words, to
go to War, and then come home and pay
ourselves for being shot at, wounded and
killed Abolitionism don’t pay. Now
I’m as good a man as any of them. No
man has a right now to lord it over inc 1
wear no badge of servitude, advertising
that I am a tit subject for shoulder-strap
damns,cuffs, kicks, guard-houses, &e- I’m
a returned soldier—a poor man who must
work or starve. I love my country. I’m
a better patriot than the man who makes
the poor man to pay taxes and interest on
bonds exempt from taxation, and I say it
boldly, that the next time I shoulder a
musket will be for equal taxation, equal
rights and a free country. I don’t like
the idea of repudiation hut if the Govern
ment dork t tax her bonds, may I be han
ged if I ever pay a eent of taxes, for my
crippled limb is a better and more honora
ble bond than the Government ever issued.
If all are taxed alikod, it is well. If not,
its repudiate, or another fight.
BOSTON BETSEY^ BRICK, OR
BRICK’S BETSEY.
I found lier in Boston. Betsey Joruslia
Jones—in tlirce volumes illustrated. 1 thirsted
for intellect. I hungered for beauty. I
ached for charms. I required a gentle being
with a mind liko horse billiards to guide me
through this vale of steers. I went to Boston
to find my love. I found her. She was a
school teacher who drew seven dollars a month
for spanking the rule of three into the vulgar
fractions confided to her charge, and for ad
ding accomplishments as ’twere to the result
oi oincrs multiplication i r lguiauveiy spong
ing. After school was disbanded for the day,
we walked out to the beach. Birch by day
and the beach by night.
My love was beautiful. She was of the
New England type. She was /rare.itanical,
Thus worshipped I her, the most beautifulost
ant in the sugar howl.
And she made both ends meet by skinning
cels. She was a most exalted and triumphant
eel skinnist. The Massachusetts girls teach
schools and skin eels for market. Said I,
“Betsey, if it’s not a-skin too much, let. me go
out with thee, and aid in thy toils, and see
thee divest eel of cuticle.” She said yea. I
went. She had a hooked nose. She had three
hoops—at regular intervals. She was Massa
chusetts schoolmarm. She was old maid.
She understood all of Daboll but the multipli
cation. She hail never been on the multiply !
Oh, no ! And she could skin eels faster than
the devil could catch a fiddler.
By the beach we sat. She skinned eels for
the net proceeds. We talked of love and sicli.
She listened to my tale. She felt the moving
of my plea; the burning eloquence thereof,
so-called. Said I,
“Oh, Betsey, secin’ its yeou, I love yeou, I
sweow. I wouldst be thine 1 would share
thy cot, and
“ ‘Dream I sleep with thee, love,’ ” .
Wouldst be mine? I am a stranger, Betsey.
I am not. aged, but on the contrary am agile as
those eel. I will oll'cr thee all 1 have.. I
would crawl out of myself as those eel crawls
out of his undershirt in thy hands, and he thine
onlyost.”
She took up another eel.
“Oh, Betsey”—said I as I laid partly on the
grass, partly in the lap of Betsey, with the
slickery tails of her eels tickling my nose—
“were you ever carost by mortal?” She said
no, and looked sidewise.
She took another eel.
I then caressed her. Said she, “Praise the
Lord, but that is the first kiss ever mortal man
gave me.” I asked her if she liked it? She
said it were better nor spanking a youngun or
skiunen a big eel. She said she liked school
teaching. It was better than a gymnasium.
She said kissing was better than skinning
eels. When a Massachusetts gill says that,
you may with the lambs ou the hills, gamble
that she iiketh it with vehement muchness.
me pule moon situ along over me neuujust
as easy! It seemed to skin itself from under
the fleecy clouds, as thoso eels skinned them
selves from the fingers of my Betsey Jerusha.
It sat me to thinking she was something
heavenly, like the moon. Only she was a lit
tle plumper. It was a new moon. Newer than
Betsey, and a little slimmer. I conversed
with Betsy. She had a little knife like a shoe
knife. 1 would have thought her a shoemaker
if she had carried a cobbler’s kit and a waxen
end. But she didn’t. She skinned eels,
chawed spruce gum and talked love. Said
she, “What is your name?”
Asked we, “the reverberating cognomen to
which we respond?”
Said she, “yes.”
Said we, “Brick Pomeroy.”
Then she asked us of our western home.
She wanted to know whatstute Illinois was in,
and if Wisconsin was in the First or Second
Ward of La Crosse. And she wanted to know
if we hud young ones in the west. We told
her not many yet! Then she wanted to know
if the Mississippi river had eels in it. We told
her nay. And she wanted to know if the peo
ple out in that barbarous region wore clothes
every day or only when they went sparking.
And she wanted to know how far it was from
where we lived to a house. And she wanted
to know if they spanked or ferruled young
sters in schools, and if we had schools. And
she wanted to know if women dressed in bear
skins or tilting hoops, which we suppose are
all the same ! And she wanted to know if we
had newspapers, and could read and write and
had ever heard of Anna Dickinson. And she
wanted to know if it was not terrible living so
far from Boston !
Then wc caressed her and kissed her so
sweetly. And she twined the cel skins in a
garland and wreathed them about our neck as
she sat there in maiden meditation fancy free,
like a box of No. 11 boots. Then we said—
“Oh. Betsey Jerusha, thou hast spokeuest
with wisdom. I will converse with thee, elas
tic nymph, I am a barbarian. I am an ig
norant but well meaning whelp. We are all
ditto in the west. I wear bear skin in the
west—we all ditto in that country. We have
no houses, but live intently without them as
’twere. Wc have no carriages for either male
or female so-called. But I cau love thee. 1
can hold thee to minie OUn I will surround
thee with all the luxuries we have in that laud
of darkness, for the sun never rises in the i
west! Said Betsey, as she playfully slung the j
hide off from another conquered eel, “Du
I uiir‘
I wanted information, and thus we dia
logued.
“My Betsey Jorusha, hast,much of.parents?’’
“Yes, Brickuol, havo two parents and four
ante-parents.”
“What didst they do?”
“My ma taught school a.nd skinned eels,
and my father was an eel catcher and a silver
tongued politician.”
“How many boys canst spank in a day?”
“I havo spanked twenty-seven in au hour
and it wan’t a good hour for spanking cither!”
“And eels ! How many cels canst thou peel
in a day. Tell mo, thou educator of the
world?’”
“Well, now. that is a pretty right smart of
a question. I guess 1 can skin six a minute.
1 skin ’em and sling ’em over my shoulder
into that aro tub, and kin keep one in the air
all the time, liko a cow’s tail in fly tlmo, and
[ ain’t much of a skinist nuther!”
“Does it hurt the eels?” '
“Why, of course, it kills the cols ! But that
is his fault. If he'd had hisskiu put on toth-t
or side out, ’twouldn’t hurtem any ! 'Twould
have slid off itself. Its our doctrine in Now
England to havo things conform to our no
tions, cveu if tho cels wo skin don’t liko it,
You see this is the hub—and the eels have no
rights, wo, the skinners, aro bound to. res-;
pect!” and into the air sho playfully jtossed
another yard of subdued, quivering agony 1
Says wo—
“Do you skin cm for fun or for profit?”
Betsey said it was for both. There was
money in it, and it was fun to see them
squirm, for they had no business to be eels,
and to come to New England in the spring and
fall for what they wanted. And thus Betsey
taught mo to love. Gontle, christianized
Betsey!
And I kissed her. And I hugged her thoro
then. And I told sho should be happy. And
that she should have cels to skin forevor.
That I’d have one made on purpose ! Then
she smiled and said she’d be mine, so-called.
II i u agree to nuu uer m eeia ; iu imu jruuug
ones for her to spank, let her come once a year
to hear Hie big organ anil rock her baby in the
cradle of liberty ; to let her kiss every nigger
she saw; to let her spend half her time in
peddling tracts uud making flannel shirts for
babies in Africa, and would do my best to ex
tend the blessed gospel and the likeuess of
lien. Butler iu the bonighted region beyond tho
hub.
I consented to all she wanted of me except
the nigger. On that I was firrum. So was
Betsey. She said “nigger or single blessed
ness.” She said they were her pets. I told
her I was a democrat. Oh, gracious ! She
straightened up till her corsets snapped like
a pistol! I thought Bhe had gone off! But
she hadn’t. Sho was there yet. Said she, as
she scrunched an eel in her hand and waved
her peeling machine over bend :
“You a democrat 1 Marry a democrat? Go
way! Git eout! Don’t tech me! Oh, you
great, nasty western man 1 Take your arm
away from around my intellectual breast!
Oh, you great, ugly, western ho man! I’d
skin you like an eel! Oh, git eout! Rise
your hoary locks from that ere lap. I'll take
my eels and fly from your advances. Marry
a democrat? I'm no such woman ! Oh, you
great big, red whiskered, grey headed, savage,
unrefined, uncultivated, uueddicuted, big nas
ty, he man! How dare you talk to me! I'd
die first, and then I wouldn’t.”
And she done as Joseph did in the niglit
and went off into Egypt, leaving me in a bed
of eel skins. And now, I’m a gone nutmeg, a
busted what-do-you-call-it. I’ve lost my Bet
soy Jerusha, and must live in the west beyond
the eels and school rnarm charms of her I so
adored, for us of t he west are not of the ecl-ito.
Thiuo, unskinned,
“Brick” Pomeroy.
Marriage.—Marriage is to a woman at
once the happiest and saddest event of her
life, it is the promise of future bliss ruised on
the death of present enjoy&eut. She quits
her home and her parents, her companions,
her amusements—cvcrythingon which she has
hitherto depended for comfort, for affection,,
for kindness, and for pleasure. The parents
by whose advice she has been guided—the
sister to whom she has dared to impart the
embryo thought and feeling—the brother who
i » v •.! t. ... 1_l_ il _ _ _ .11...
UUO jimjcu n iiu uu, vuuuovuv>|
and tlic younger children to whom she has
hitherto been tho mother and playmate—are
all to bo forsaken at one fell stroke—every
former tie is loosened—the spring of action
is changed, and she flies with joy in the un
trodden paths before her ; buoyed up by the
confidence of requited love, she bids a fond
and grateful adieu to the life that is past, and
turns with excited hopes and joyous anticipa
tion to the happiness to come. Then woe to
the man who can blight such fair hopes—who
can treacherously lure such a heart from its
peaceful enjoyments and watchful protection
of home—who cau, coward-like, break the il
lusions which have won her, and destroy the
confidence which love had inspired. Woe to
hirn who has too early withdrawn the .tender
plant from the props and stays of moral dis
cipline in which she has been nurtured, and
yet makes no effort to supply their places, for
him is the responsibility of her errors—on him
who first taught her. by example, to grow care
less of her duty and then exposed her, with a
weakened spirit and unsatiated heart, to the
wild storms and the wily temptations of a sin
ful world.
A Bachelor Editor Gonk Crazt.—The lo
cal editor of tho Wabash Plaindealcr has re
cently fallen in love. He tells about it, and
iu anticipation of the glories of the coming
day lie goes off in this wise :
We are becoming desperate, and will com
mit matrimony unless somebody holds us.
We are becoming convinced that an b’angel is
a good thing to have in the house. Imagine
the deliciousness of one’s pheelinks when a
beautiful sweet sixteen, possessing the digni
fied title of wife, and with the innocence of a
lamb, steps closely up to your frame work,
places her soft lilly white arms around your
alabaster neck, throws back her auburn ring
lets, raises her angelic form upon little toes,
places her heaving bosom upon your vest pat
tern, aud with her red, rosy, posy, pouty,
peaches and cream, strawberry, applo dump
lings, soda water, maple molasses, fruit cake,
bologna sausage, nectar lips, (Je-ho9-si-fat!)
kisses you smack! Hurrah for matrimony,
and durnntion to old bachelordom !
—-—A legal wag calls his marriage certifi
cate, strange to say, "a writ of attain'd her.”
-Why i* Andy Johnson like a bank
cashier? Because he la a good judge of had
bill*.