Drteaas |Uput>Uan. OFFICIAL JOUR NAL Of THE U NITED STATES OFFICIAL JOURNAL *OF IEW ORLEANS ROCK, LITTLE NEST. Bock in the wind, little nn!: Whan you are full, life U beat; Soon enough winga will be grown, Flutter, and leave you alone. Rock in the wind, little neat; bay, what are atonua to the bleat f Though on ahonld tremble and AU1, God caret for sparrows and all! Rock, little neat; like a tong All the aweet daya fleet along; Winter will present 1» come, .Making you vacant and dumb! A DEAD-LOCK. AND ITS KEY. "A note for you, ma'am. No answer." I was resting in my own room, after rid ing—it was six o'clock; too early to dress for dinner, too late to dress twice after tak ing off my habit—sleeping over a book, and comfortable in my white dressing-gown. I was bored by the interruption. The note was no more than this: "Dear Saleen: I must stay where I am, and you must go by yonrtelf to the Les 't mind. tiers'—yon won't mind. 1 saw Jack, and he said there was no party, as it would be troublesome with the wedding to-morrow, -and the dining-room is given up to the breakfast. I've sent back the brongbman. Thine, FEED." Fred is my brother, and was invited, like myself, to time quietly with these Lesters, whose pretty daughter was to be married next day to a triend of ours—specially Fred's and mine—Sir John March, com monly called "Jack." "What keeps Fred!" was my passing thought; then I read a little longer, dresset, and drove to Portman square. As I turnei i the corner, I saw visible preparations and signs of the morrow's wedding at the Les ters' door. A cart with flowers was un loading; an awning was being pat np over the balcony and hall door; men in white aprons came and went. As the brougham drew np, I could see through the open doefr the bustle and stir within. At home in the house, I opened the diningroom door, to see what progress was being made with the tables. Several maid-servants and some of the confectioner's men were arranging the ornaments and flowers; the cake, with its conventional erection, stood conspicuous. My friends' maid was putting moss into the flower baskets, and decorating the high dishes containing the more durable part of the feast. "Well, Barker," I was beginning when 1 eanght the woman's eye. She was doing her work with a strange gravity, and her face was full of horror and pain. When she saw me, she let fall the flowers in her hand. "O, ma'am! O, Miss Sarah! you've come." "Of course, I've come," I answered. "What is the matter "You haven't seen them, ma'am, have yoa "Seen whot The ladies? No; I came straight in here to look at the tables. Is there anything wrong I suppose we're to dine in the library for to-day? Bow nice it all looks!" "Nice! O, ma'am, it's a mockery, its awful! To see it all and to go on as if—as if—O, Lord!" and the woman sat down and rooked herself to and fro, with the tears running down her face. I was thoroughly alarmed now. "Barker, is there anything wrong Is any one ill or dead Don't frighten me like this. I'll go and see them if you won't speak oat," and I went to the door. I just saw that Barker had descended to the floor, and that her head was on the chair, which she clutched, sobbing aloud. I met the butler and another man cross ing the hail, both with scared, solemn faees, ana went on to the morning-room on the same floor. There all looked much as usual. The pride of the house and of my friends' rather valuable collection of an tiquities stood facing the door—a huge cabinet, with massive clamped doors and richly cut brass work— ciscle as only genuine brass work of old times can be; euriouslv inlaid wood work; marvelous locks, which no one but its owner understo.id and no one else dared meddle with. It was a very old friend, the great armoir playing with the children of the house in my own child hood, I knew it, inside and outside, by heart. A mystery and a wonder then—an interest later—always a thing to admire .and wonder at even now. It had three doors. The centre one, about four feet wide, and certainly six inches thick, shut in another, which again enclosed, with a space of about eight inches of waste room, a set of six drawers, of different sizes, and a sort of cupboard above them. We used to stand as little children between the drawers and the inner door, and wonder, supposmg we were shut in whether we could breathe long in that narrow enclosure, or be heard by any one without, supposing— •awful thought!—we were forgotten, or the outer door were shut. I remember thinking of it in bed at night, as nervous children will think ot such things, till I was cold with horror. Both these two doors shut with a catch which was not a lock; but we children were forbidden ever to open or shot them, except when Mr. Lester was present. It was doubtful if anyone else knew how to open them, for no one ever tried. The two sidedoors opened with cu rious keys, which stood in the locks, chained to the armoir. They were valuables in them selves. The great key of the centre door, worth a hundred pounds or more, was con sidered too sacred for common eyes, and lay in a velvet-lined case in Mr. Lester's own keeping, brought out only occasionally to show to those who could appreciate such things. It stood there iu the summer twilight looming darkly in the quiet room, darker than the rest ot the bouse, as back rooms in London often are chilly, it seemed to me, i n m tllin wbite <,reM coming from the hall full of sunset light. Turning to leave the room, I saw a man lying prone on Lis face upon a sofa: so still, and so straight, and so strange in his attitude, that I coaid only stare fora minute, and wonder whether be was asleep or dead. His hands were over his eare, grasping his hair, as if in pain; anu I noticed the soles of bis boots turned quite up, as one notics trifles in the midst of alarm or bewilderment. The nails in his boots showed he was not dressed for dinner. His hatfl was lying on the floor on its side. His lace I could not 6ee: but I knew it was Jack March, and I touched his arm in wonder. k ',25?/ OU i. a 7 ak ?l you asleep? What is it?" I asked with growing alarm. Was I to find something strange in every room I entered in this houge? "Jack?"! said again. He turned, and I saw his wild haggard face, that looked at me with vague eyes that seemed not to see; and then he put his head down with a moan, and cov ered his ears once more, as it to shut out sight and sound. The room felt darker and chillier for this silent figure; and the gaunt old armoir seemed bigger and more oppres sive. I ran out of the room in a sort of panic. Up stairf the drawing-room door stood open. The glow of the sunset was over the room, bright with flowers and pic tures, and the open windows showed the balconies lined with red .cloth, and ready for the guests next day. Silence here, and silent figures, two of them—one crouched upon the floor, with arms outstretched upon a sofa; another lying half across nn otto man—the bride's mother and sister. As I name in and spoke, now fairly bewildered and frightened, Mrs. Lester rose up with a despairing wail. "Saleen, Saleen She stood shaking and crying out my name. "Dear Mrs. Lester," I said, taking the poor woman's cold hands, "come and sit itell me what has happened. Kate" I called to the girl on the floor, come and give me that cushion." She came, mechanically, and helped beg mother tbe rn hair. "Now, tell mo, if you Mrs. Lester's head had fallen back upon the cushion, and she hud fainted. The girl roused herself. "No wonder," she said: "aha In. nothing all day; and then all this. ItTtoS awfid, Saleen. I shall go mad if I think and papa has never come back!" "Where is your father "I don't know. We sent down to the 4lnh and to the house they can't find him And we've searched his room, and it's not there. It's nowhere. And Jack is nearlv wild; and we daren't break it open." J "Itl What, child? Can't you say what you are talking about? I shall next. What can't you find? you all?" "Saleen, it'o Mary. Mary is in there, and the key is gone, and papa is away, and she dying there— suffocating." And the girl flung herself on the floor with wild sobs and tears. Mrs. Lester lay forgotten in her swoon. Kate rolled in ana vailing misery on the carpet. I fled down stairs. The servants were as busy as ever. I knew it all now. "Good God!" I said to the butler, who was carrying in a tray of glass, "are you going on with all this useless folly, and that girl dying in the next room? Is one going to try to save her Davis stood atill, and looked at me pity ingly; he shook his head sadly, and went on. I rushed into the street; a policeman s standing near the carts. "Come here, 1 said. "You (to another man) go and get a blacksmith. Ron for your life! Tell him to bring tools to open locks and unscrew everything; run. And yon get a hatchet; get anything; come and break open the great cabinet," I gasped to the servants, who came oat to see what it all meant. "Don't lose a moment. Great heaven! the time has been lost already!" They obeyed me, dispersing hither and thither. It seemed hours before the men came back with tools. "Try the hinges first. Are there screws i" There was that chapce. and they worked at them, removing several heavy, carious nails and screws, but seeming no nearer to the object; the door was fast and firm. "Oh, break it down!" I screamed at last; "break it with the hatehet. What does anything matter, but her life—her life!" Her life!" said some strange voice close to me, and there stood Jaek March, swaying eyes ana like a drunken man, with scared eyes wild hair. "Was bis reason gone or go? "Don't!" he shouted to a workman, was lifting the hatchet to break in the door. "Not up there. Her head." And then he stooped bis ear to the keyhole, listened in tently a minute, raised his hand as if to de mand silence, and the intelligence fading out of his face, he rose with a discordant laugh, and walked away. "Bah!" he said, "her life against Lester's cabinet—her life against a key." We did not even look round to see where he went stumbling through the hall, where he fell in a fit upon the floor. Fearing to injure that imprisoned figure (living. or dead, who could tell we left the ddbr and proceeded to break into the middle compartment from the wings. The grand old workmanship resisted; there seemed no weak point, no crevice, no possi bility of breaking into the huge thing without fear of harm to that which it held locked and fast, within a few inches of our light and air and living life, done to death by a bit of clever machinery, the werk of a dead hand. I would not think of the beau tiful Mary Lester as she might be—must be—if another hour went by. All this time no questions were asked. I never knew till afterward how it had happened; how her father, only an hour or so earlier, exhibit ing his wonderful cabinet to a connoisseur in such matters, had gone upstairs with his friend to show the key he prized so much, leaving the cabinet door open, intending to return; how Mary and the children, a younger brother and sister, had come in; and how the unusual sight of the open door had attracted them; how she looked in, and told the little ones she had not stood inside it "so" since she was as little as they were: and, laughing, tried to stand in the old place. "I am not too big even nor, am I? she said, and the children ran to see, and, posh ing the doors against her, the spring caught and shut her in with deatb ana suffocation, while they went shooting to the others that sister Mary was "in there shut np," and they couldn't let her out." No, they could not let her out Mr. Les ter and his friend bad gone off with the key, to show it to some one who had doubted its date—so it appeared Irom one of the boys who now came in: be had heard them talking on the stairs as they went He said: 'Jarvis knows nothing about it; he has never seen it,' said the boy, sobbing. I heard him. I know he said Jarvis." "That will be Colonel Jarvis, in Charles street, ma'am," said Davis. "Maybe if we sent there—." There were voices outside, and Barker looked in with a white face of horror. "It's master coming iu," she said, in a sort of whisper. We all stood back. Who would tell him? Who was to say: Your girl is behind that immovable door But the boy, frightened enough at his father at other times, went up to him, tir ing to speak quietly: "The key, sir. Quick, for God's sake!" "Key! What—what's all this Good God! sir,'' seizing a servant bv the collar, and flinging him to one side like a cat, "do you know what you're doing, meddling with that cabinet Why, it's worth thousands! God bless me! what does all this mean He was purple with anger. "Don't stand staring. Sarah Heriot," he thundered, "you are not a fool; be good enough to ex plain this—this—" I went up to him, sick with horror. "The key is wanted," 1 managed to say. "There is some one inside—dying." "Some one—dying—in there! Who Wliat! Who is it, girl?" He shook me by the shoulder till I winced with pain. "Oh, the key, the key! Never mind any thing else, sir. Only open it, quick, and lose no nioie time." He looked sharply around—Mrs. Lester and Kate were standing at the door, with their terrified, miserable faces. He took in the rest of us with a glance. "Where's Mary he said, suddenly. No one spoke. "Why the devil don't vou answer me Who is shut in there How could any one be there Trash But his face was growing ashy gray, and his lips whitened as he s[K>ke. "Ah, my God! I never shut the door! It is not alary, not my girl that's—." He pointed, with a shaking hand, to the heavy door. "And—I haven't the—key! lie made one rush into the street; the ser vants standing about were swept right and left, as he tore past them, down Orchard street into Oxford street. They could see the batless, fleeing figure disappearing in the distance. Mrs. Lester came into the hall. The Doc tor and others were busy about poor Jack March, who lay on the diningroom sofa with closed eyes, happily unconscious. The timid mistress of the house stood by tbe staircase, her lace, ber voice, her whole appearance changed and aged in the last hour. He has gone for the key; he can't be back." she said, speaking like a woman in a dream, "not for half an hour." She looked round stupidly, and smiled. He will kill me, you know; but the cabinet shall be broken open—broken to pieces! Never mind. Fancy waiting for the key!" she laughed. Break it down, I tell yon I give the or der. Do you hear me?" Two workmen came from the side door, where a fresh and useless attempt had been made to remove the panel without injury to the front or to the imprisoned girL "We might loosen the wood work and strike it out mnm, and go on taking out screws same time." "Do it." Sharp blows upon chisels now, and sev eralscrews removed from locks and hinges. st "k e at the hinges with the hatchet," came Mrs. Lester's altered voice, hard and wirey, usually ra low and hesitating. "Cut them through. It can be done—it shall." They struck with a will The hatchet £l?!^KiL pre ed to the weakest part and heavy blows from a mallet upon that. The hatchet edge was turned, and a dint made. Some of the work but no more. c Cu t through the panel," suggested Kate. "Surely wooacan be broken." It's all lined with iron, mum," said Da But we might vis; "it's as good as a safe. Three telling blows. The room suddenlv darkened, a chill sough of wind from the window, and the door swung to with a He Every one looked round. A growl of dis tant thunder, and a faint flash of lightning accounted for it the next moment. More blows, and a long, ominous roll, and the lightning playing across the great armoir; then an avalanche of rain and hail—all strange and incongruous on this fine eve ning. The room was nearly dark. One of the men spoke: "Is there a step-ladder in the house?" It was brought. "I'll try tbe top, with your leave, ma'am. Ah, if I had a ught now!" He was gives a taper from the library table. "Bill"—to his companion —"look here; hold tbe light, and keep a hand on the side." He lifted the hatchet, and gave a swinging blow—another—an clap of thunder, awful cli i aad the next flash showed every white face to the other. Quidt stops in the hall, and the door Hang wide; a wild, wot figure threw the key among ns, and fell ina heap upon the floor, With a wr ___wrench the man on the ladder tore off the upper moulding, and half the roof of tho armoir. Mrs. Lester took up the key. fiunbled with the lock, let it fell with a shriek. Barker eaughtit from her, put it in, and.turned it. "Open it," she whispered to one of the men; "I can't." She turned away, sick with dread. It was opened, showing nothing bat tho terrible inner door, whose spring was only known to the master, lying senseless on the floor. "Take off more here," one of-the men shouted; "it will give air till'the door's got open." Good thought. They worked savagely. Mrs. Lester was on her knees by her hus band. "Oh, get brandy! Get him to speak; he could tell ufi how!" They did what they could. "William! Oh, speak to me! How can I open it—the spring—the inner door The white lips moved, and the head, with A lie Willie lips Uiuvcu. aim iuo ucaui its dripping hair, rolled to one side, bat no sound came. The men worked wildly now. All thought of sparing the beautiful front and brass work was forgotten. They tore and hammered at the inner door, whose smooth, polished surface presented no crev ice or joint where to strike first—where to insert a chisel or direct a blow. As they worked, consciousness returned to Mr. Les ter; he half sat up, supporting himself against the door, bnt no words came, though bis lips moved, and his eyes looked with intense eagerness at the destruction of his precious armoir. He lifted his bead and looked mutely at his wife. She pat her head down to hie lips. "What is it 1" What shall I tell them to do?" He beat his hand upon the floor. Kate sprung forward. "I know! I know Strike on the floor at tbe foot of the inner door. Oh, I remember, it was there." Davis felt with bis hand all along the polished surface of the lowest shelf. "Here, press here; give me a hammer lie felt a slight rise, and struek gradually all about tbe spot Kate showed nim. A deafening clap of thunder and a flash, blinding us for the moment, and we all crowded close, and then came a creak, drowned in the awful thunder. "It's open," said one of thn men. Kate slid to the door, twisting my dress about her head. Davis turned from the d,oor. "I daren't look." he said. "Do you," to the car penter's man, "open it gently." Barker stretched forward, turned round, tried to say something, and burst out cry ing. I can't see," said the man, with a strange, thick voice. "Bring the light, some one." For ten awful seconds there was silence in the dim room, then a erv, and a heavy fall. Saleen," said a voice close to me, "do you know it's a quarter past seven, and yon are due at the Lesters 1 at half-past; and not even dressed. Here's your book fallen down." I had been asleep over an hour. If I felt like a conspirator at the Lesters' S leasant dinner, it is not surprising; bat 1 id not mention my dream. Traveling Iu the West. I recall an adventure with a night clerk once in a Western town. I retired, leaving directions to be called for tne express, which came along at three o'clock in the morning. It was important that I shouldn't miss the train, and with tbe idea weighing upon my mind, 1 couldn't sleep much. Waking suddenly from a doze, I consulted my watch and founa it was nearly three o'clock. I dressed hurriedlv, and going below, found the night clerk asleep, with his feet upon the stove and a half consumed cigar in his mouth. I shook him, and the following dialogue ensued: Traveler "Won't the omnibus be here soon Clerk (gaspingfearfully): "Wha' om'bus?" Traveler: "Why, the omnibus for the Eastern express." Clerk: "No oin'bus (gap) ran that train." Traveler (growing excited at the prospect of being lett): "How far is it to the de pot!" Clerk (lazily striking a match to relight his cigar): "'Bout a mile." Traveler: "Well, call up the porter, and send him down with my baggage, and i'll walk. Come, no time to lose." Clerk: "Por'er won't get up. He goes to bed for keeps." Traveler (dancing around with nervous excitement): "How am I to get that train, then Clerk (a long gap): 'amfino." Traveler (diplomacy necessarv): "Would half a dollar induce you to go down to the depot with me and carrv my baggage Clerk (springing to His feet with great alacrity): "Certainly, sir, I will light a lan tern and jog right along." The depot was a mile from town, a lonely place, with no other building near. No friendly light glimmering from its win dows, the agent probably enjoying his ne cessary five hours sleep. "Good bye," said tbe night clerk, as he received bis half dollar, and was about to return, leaving me to watch out in the cold for the train. "See here," said I, "is this train usually on time "Hardly ever known to be on time," re plied the night clerk. "Three or four hours behind sometimes." Here was a pleasant prospect for me alone at that desolate depot of a dark, wintry night. I was fearful of robbers, too. 1 hadn't much money; but how could the robbers be expected to* know that. "Can't you stay with me until the train comes I pleaded. *T can't do it, boss (gaping again). "Mnst get back to the hotel (gap). Good night (another gap); take good care of yourself, old man.' "What can I do if the train don't stop (Gaping fiercer than ever) "Damfino." Visions of robbers filled inv my mind as the lantern receded, and 1 yelled, "Would half a dollar induce you to stop until the train comes "Certainly," cried the night clerk, cheer ily, stooping his gaps as he came back on the run. For once the train was on time, so he was not long delayed. It halted but a second; I jumped on the platform with my baggage, the train started, and the night clerk yelled, "Here, you! Where's my half dollar And the voice ot the traveler came wafted back as he gaped "Damfino." Homes for the Millloa. Boston has an association of workingmen whose objects are worthy of imitation, the design being chiefly to secure for its mem bers cheap houses on a sort of co-operative plan. They propose, according to a state ment of Mr. Josiah Quincy, who is at the head of the association, to build fifty houses of a better class, which, if erected singly, would cost $2000 each t $2000 each, or $100,000; or if contracted for together $75,000 for the whole fifty. Of this, each member pays down $200, or $10,000 in the aggregate, reducing the amount required on mortgages to $65, 000, or about two-thirds of the value of the houses if erected singly, assuming that the money is obtained at seven per cent inter est, and that interest is received on the deposits. This is Mr. Quincy's plan reduced to a few words: At the end of seven years— the owners meanwhile poying at the rate at $260 per year rent—the entire indebtedness would be cleared off, and a surplus left to the credit of the association of $13,267. One of our California papers tells this good story of the results of the recent elec tion in that State: Ou the morning after the late election, in Chico, some of the Democrats wore terribly long faces as the result came flashing over the telegraph wires. Democrat who lives a few miles from town, and who, by the **7t ^*s one of tbe most earnest Demo crats who was not afraid to smell powder ur defense of the South daring tho rebol h°n, came into town, and was told of the E iiii ie 3ri5 0 J? 1 P*?/' He immediately re 'Tlmt is nothing; I rose every morn ig for four years during the war and heard that Mother remarked to him that be waa disgusted with tbe re t0 ootsnd emigrate. ™,7S?^_5?5,« otor the sharp T w h T 7 y P *W red the *°now tul one. Well, replied oar Democratic #Hw,d ha f "•bout the only plaee where yon will find a Democratic majority." MASONIC FACETLK The following is taken from the corres pondence report of Thomas J. Corson, of New Jersey, a very eminent Mason, and well versed particularly in all matters rela tive to the Knights Templar and Boyal Arch branches. It is descriptive of the banquet or supper given by the Mary Commander/ of Philadelphia to the Grand Encampment of the United States, shortly after the recent triennial convocation at Baltimore, aad aad will show that the severe restraint of the Lodge may be thrown off on such occa sions. At it has already appeared in some of tbe leading Masonic journals, and there is none in this city especially devoted to the royal art, wo think it will gratify the nu merous Masonic readers of our paper: The assemblage was large and was graced by tbe presence of ladies, as all Masonic banquets should be. The iadies were there as guests, not as spectators, and sat down with ns, right by our side—and he's a mighty poor Templar who cannot get a lady to sit by his side. The toast to "woman" was responded to by Sir James H. Hopkins, of Pennsvlvania, and we regret to say that the newspaper report does great injustice to his beautiful speech. We sat next to this "eloquent ora tor of the West," and we will endeavor to give some of the gems which fell from his inspired lips. With quaking knees and tremulous voice be thus spoke: "Mr. Most Eminent President, dear sis ters, beloved brethren, and you other fel lows: Woman is an institution—she is a great institution. Without her, where would you be, sir Where .would 1 be Where would any other man be From early infancy to decrepid age, woman is our guardian angel—our protector—our joy— •nr delight—our—oh, 'you know how it is vourselt.' The learned Biaekstone, whose humble disciple I am, saitb of her— 'Fee simple and simple fee. With all the fees entail. Are nothing when compared to thee, Thou best of fees, fe-male.' [Applause.] She is the source of all the wit, wisdom, eloquence and virtue which the world possesses. With her, man can accomplish miracles—without her. he is powerless. She originates ideas, we exe cute them. Who first started a salt mine? Why, Lot's wife, and wasn't she a woman) Wasn't Joel a good carpenter when she 'nailed' Sisera? Who can estimate her power—that mighty power to which we all so willingly yield obedience) Wasn't Eve a woman) And didn't she engage in the fruit business, even before she wore panta lettes? And hasn't Dr. Creigh proved, by ancient documents that the first who struck oil' in the great State of Pennsyl vania were the five 'wise virgins' who filled their lamps before they started to attend tbe marriage feast? And dare we doubt that they were women? Ain't Snsan B. Anthonv. and Victoria Woodhull, and Theodore Tilton, women) And ain't they the great reformers ot the age? What man in the annals of fame has ever achieved greatness unless he had a woman for a wife or a mother? Sine femina nulla fama. saith the classic poet. "If it wasn't for woman, who would take care of our babies 1 Who would starch our collars or darn our stockings i Who would tie our cravats or part our back hair In fact, I don't believe we could get along without her, at all, at all—do you She is a queen whose power is absolute. We are bound in captivity to her, and our slavery is so complete that we love to hug the chains that bind us. When she punishes us. don't we like to kiss the hand that smites us How beautifully does the poet thus describe the influence which she exerts over the rug ged nature of man: ged nature man: 'A wernte iu our hours of ease, Uncertain, cor. and hard to please. But aeen too oft. familiar with her face. We first endure, then pity, then embrace. (Applause, cheers, waving of handker chiefs—hi! hi! hi! and several "tigers.") Here the orator sank exhausted to the floor. Horror-stricken, we rushed to him: we shouldered his limp form and bore him to his hotel, where restoratives were ap plied. After consciousness had partly re turned, we ''Put him in bi9 little heS, And smoothed the pillow for his head." After having disposed of Sir James, we returned to the banquet. We took our seal sadly and sorrowfully, when a sound struck our ear which seemed somewhat familiar to us. Could it be Yes. it was even so. Sir Joseph P. Hornor. of Louisiana, was speaking again. With frenzied eye and frantic gesture, he was spouting away like a "right whale." We have often pitied "poor Robinson Crusoe." because be could not "hear tbe sweet music of speech," but no one can complaiff of that affliction when Hornor is in the neighbor hood. On the slightest provocation Joseph is ever ready to "rise to explain." Be it fu neral or wedding, installation or institution, banquet or reception, the sweet tones of his persuasive tongue can be beard. His sup ply ot wind is so inexhaustible that when at last Silence, like a poultice, conies To heal the blows of sound," we devoutly return thanks that all is over. Fortunately, the guests began to depart, tbe lights were turned down, and thus ended Sir Joseph's harangue. The Capture of New Orleans. [From the Grand Army Journal.] Gideon HI files' promised article, entitled "Admiral Farragut and New Orleans, with an account of the Origin and Command ot the First Three Naval Expeditious of the War." appears in the Galaxy for November. It opens with a review of the condition of the country at the commencement of the rebellion, touches upon the results with which the election of Lincoln was pregnant, and enlarges somewhat upon the gigantic energy necessary to enforce a blockade of three thousand five hundred miles in ex tent, to seeuie which a navy had to be im provised, and the energies'and abilities of the nation taxed and called out with a rapidity never before equaled in the history of civilization. While speaking of the magnitude of the work of preparation to be accomplished by tbe government, Mr. Welles does not fail to do justice to the foresight and energy of Mr. Welles, who, seeing that the rebel lion was no mere impulsive outbreak, took his measures accordingly, and assumed the responsibility of immediately ordering, without law and without appropriations the construction of over thirty naval steamers, none of which could be completed within six months from the attack on Sumter, and long after the terms ot the seventy-five thousand men had expired, which many supposed would close the in surrection. The wisdom of this action was proved by after events, although at that time both "at home and abroad the blockade was pro nounced an impossibility." But through the untiring energy of our Navy Depart ment, seeming impossibilities became estab lished facts, and the naval victory at Hat teras Inlet is referred to by Mr. Welles as one of tbe first fruits of the tireless efficiency of the department of which be was then the head. Then follows a history of the more im portant expedition to Port Royal under Ad miral DuPont, with an account of the pur pose of the expedition, the secresy main tained in regard to its object and destina tion, and the final result of the same. As this expedition moved out upon its mission, even before it had left Hampton Roads, "the attention of the department," says the author, "was intently directed to New Orleans." Then follows a history of the plan of attack npon that point finally agreed upon; the difficulties that had to be met npon its first inception; the different views of leading military and naval officers in regard to the feasibility of tbe various plans of attack suggested; the difficulties to be encountered by land and sea, and the obstacles to he overcome; tbe advantages that would accrue to the whole country, and especially to the great Northwest, from the uninterrupted navigation of the Mississippi and tbe occupation of New Orleans, that great depot of reception for tbe immense stores of the broad valley and the country lying beyond the Mississippi. The importance of the New Orleans ex pedition is fully appreciated and commented upon, and the circumstances that led to the selection of Admiral (then captain) Far ragut are all laidbefore tho reader,-and a just and glowing tribute is paid to the un selfish devotion, tbeearaeot. resolute daring, the courage and unflinching patriotism of the noble Admiral, whose memory will en dure in the hearts of his countrymen as long as tbe dear old flag shall wave over the laad which he so fearlessly defended. CHICAGO NOTES. What I Saw la the Baraod District. [From tbe Grand Bayids (Rich.) Eagle I tell only what saw aad heard and thought of. Tne connection may be new. The north side is thickly sprinkled already with one story frame shanties, and many are daily piing up. On the south side the rubbish is so heavy as to prevent such buildings except on grounds before unoc cupied. These shanties are vety low. It is a good thing to ho low. Humility is the trne basis of greatness, and not splendor and brag. This applies to cities as well as to men. No work of men deserves boast ing—especially if it be done with other peo ple's money. Wherever, too, there was low, piV B UlUUtJj UBIBI Nfff IUU| IliClv WU IUW. I damp ground. I saw grass and vegetables as green as if no lire had been over ft. Fire as green as if no fire had been over it. Fire and destruction strike at the top and shun the ground. It is better, therefore, to keep near the ground, or we may stand in peril of falling there. It is said that a large part of the burned were people who were drank on the fatal Sunday night, or else engaged in worse things, which equally put men's faculties to sleep. It is said in Chicago that many of the policemen of tbe city were drunk when the fire broke out. Drunkenness i« an evil which is worse than fire. Fire and death are some of its milder results. While on the street I heard a boy shout, as if he was announcing an extra halr-lioli day: "The schoolhonse is all on fire! the schoolhouse is all on fire!" I turned the corner, and everybody was running, and all eyes were wild with alarm. A tub of water pat out a dash of fire in the building. But the engines were driven in at doable speed, with steam up. the alarm bell struck, and everybody said, nervously, "Where is the fire People in Chicago are now alert on the subject of fire. People in Grand Rapids are not. They make boys' play of grave matters. It is better to be scared than to burn. Speaking of boys, it was tonching to see little fellows playing marbles in the bar racks of the burnt out, just as if the whole distress was a play spell to them. It was amusing, also, as I went along a crowded street, to see a boy throating a piece of lath np through a knot hole in the sidewalk, and turning round to see if he could trip up somebody. Boys, fire and mischief are what you call "fun." But fun to you is sometimes death to us older frogs. The insurance companies now foot up their losses at about $40,000,000. Such a sum as that threatens the safety even of the best companies. It is nearly half tteir capital. Every dollar owned by them must now do a double duty, and take nearly a double risk. Their stockholders must now pocket their losses and pay back a part of their dividends to raise np their capital to a safe basis. Most of their premiums, if not all. will go for the same purpose, for a year to come. Higher rates will now only hasten the time when they can safely se cure all their risks and pay dividends. No decent or just man ought to ask in surance men to do business without a profit equal to the average of other good business, which is all they have had. At any rate, business men will not engage in insurance when they can not do fairly for their trusts, and gain a surplus for extraordinary fires. It is simple madness and wickedness to say that large tires will not occur for many years. The rest of Chicago will burn eren more easily than what has gone, with a right direction of the strong prevailing winds which blow there. Tne people of many cities, including ours, are simply blind and reckless in regard to such dangers. If they choose to remain so, they are most incon siderate to demand that other men shall [•ay the cost of their heedlessness. Least of all should they ask men of insurance to endanger the insurance of more careful people for the sake of giving careless people rates below safety. Alas, bow many chnrches are left penni less by these fires In one case every one of eight hundred members was burned out. In another, church, business and homes went out and up in a flash. A thousand channels of good are thus stopped iu their running. 3fore than twenty pulpits will stop telling that truth weekly to men, mad for gain or show, which sheds a few drops of coolness on their heads. I hope the loving and the just will at least pray for these poor churches. A classmate of mine, a well-known law yer of Chicago, and of very precise cut, was escaping from the fire* with his wife and children. They had gone some dis tance, and he remembered something valua ble. Like a good husband, he hastened back into the burning district, entered bis bouse, plunged into his chamber and saved the supposed precious bag. Patiently he lugged it five miles, like -Eneas with Anchisos on his back. Arriving, be threw down with an air of triumph, at his wife's feet. She opened it, and found that he had saved the family rag-bag. They found it very useful in patching up for the winter. I Qaeea Vieteria's Husband. [From the Philadelphia Press.] Prince Albert made his wife very happy, and his own temperament must have been equal and well balanced to secure the wed aed happiness which made this royal couple exemplars of all that was adrnira and •nri.i.i, 11 ft, i» ble and enviable in domestic life. It would appear from Victoria's own statement in "The Early Years of Prince Albert," and her introduction to the speeches and ad dresses published as his, though generally attributed to the pen ot Dr. Lyon Playfair that Albert's ascendancy over bis wife, unusually exercised with'great discretion, arose trom the natural leaning of the weaker on the stronger mind. Occasional caprices of temper and hasty ebullitions of anger he may have had to endure, but bis wite relied upon bim very much for coun sel. He was rather cold and formal in manner, which was as much the effect of his isolated position as of temperament, and therefore was not warmly regarded by the aristocracy. With the people, however, he was a favorite, and would have been still more so but for the general impression that he was not to say economic, but miserly in his accumulation of money—parting with a five pound note, it was said, as if it were a drop of his blood. It has been stated, in extenuation of his saving habits, that he waa filled with apprehension of the over throw of the monarchy, even in his own time, and therefore laid by, as Dr. Franklin advised, a century earlier, for "a rainy day." At bis death it was found that his accumulated wealth amounted to $5,000,000, which was the nucleus of the large fortune, now thrice as much in amount, possessed by Victoria. Lewenboeck tells us of an insect seen with.the microscope of which twenty nine millions would equal a mite. Insects of various kinds may be seen iu the cavities ot a grain of sand. Mold is a forest of beautiful trees, with the branches, leaves and fruit. Butterflies are fully feathered. Hairs are hollow tubes. The surface of our bodies is covered with scales like a fish; a single grain of sand would cover one hun