The Greensborough patriot [December 24, 1863]

              THE GREENSBOROIJGH PATRIOT.
Volume XIXV. aBEENSBOEOUGH, N*. C, DECEMBER 24, 1863. Number 1,281.
Written for the Patriot.
M
OF
SQSTIESN JF1EEB8M.
ST HABBT HALL.
" Friend after friend departs!
Who has not lost a friend?"
LIEUT.-COL. ROBXBT UUHE OBAT.
•lieware of parting I" i» a curt, significant excla-mation
of 8ir. E. Bulwer Lytton in his iplendtd Ro-mance,
"What will he do with it?" He says : "Tbe
iruf sadness is not in the pain or the parting, it is in
the When and the How you are to BMI again with the
face about to vanish from your view '." The deep,
melancholy, overwhelming meaning ia thi* short
phrase, though, mayhap, not couched in that phrase-ology
used by Sir Edward, was keenly felt by the gal-hint
officer, whose name stand, at the head of this
article, when he selected the spot in Hopewell
churchyard wbe-e his remains should repose, before
lie took his last farewell of her who was the light of
his life and the darling boys who had blessed him
with the sweet name of father. They all met again;
bin alas : the spirit of the husband and father was
absent from the body and the signet of the pale an-gel
was upon the noble brow of ROBEET HABPKB
OKAY.
Robert Harper was born in the county of Ran-dolph,
North Carolina, on the 10th of January, 1831.
He was the second son of Gen Alexander and Mrs
Sarah Harper Gray. His love of military Ufa and
martial glory was inherited. His grandfather, in
the maternal line, Jeduthan Harper, was a Colonel
in the first great Revolution on this continent and
took a distinguished part in some of the dangerous
and bloody scenes which were them anacted ; and
his father, who was one of the most prominent men
,n his county in the beginning of this century, was
commissioned a Brigadier in the war of 1812, and
was oidered with his brig-de to Charleston to meet
the British ; but peace was declared before he reach-ed
the scene of action. His son Robmrt w.. » d.'i-cair
chiM,—his frame was nofstrongly constructed,
and he was, like Cassius, always lean,—uncorpulont.
His body, however, was inhabited by a clear, vigor-ous
and brdliant mind,—he was, emphatically, a
youth of great and uncommon genius.
About a quarter of a century ago, the spot where
Trinity College now stands, was an unchopped, un-cultivated
forest. Imbosomed in tha thiek woods
was an old log-house where an English school was
taught by a gentleman of the name of Brantly York,
who hath since made some reputation in the world
of letters as an author. There and under that in-structor,
while yet quite a small boy, Robert Harper
commenced his education. Sometime afterward a
new and bettor building was erected on the same
site, and the Rev. Dr. Craven, then a young man
just out of New Garden School opened an academy,
which was called the Union Institute. To him Rob-ert
recited, until his father determined to send him
to thetirtcngboro' High School in this place. Hera
he continued, until he completed his preparatory
course. He entered Davidson College, then a flour-ishing
seat of learning under the charge of the
1'resbjterians of the State,;in the year 1847 when ha
was but little over sixteen years old. Before he left
the Hign School, though exceedingly youthful and
not largely versed in general literature and history,
he gave promise, by his efforts in the Hermian So-oiety,
ot which he was a prominent member, of be-ing
a fluent, energetic, elaquent and brilliant deba-ter
I was a member of the same Lite-ary coterie
u: d bad the pleasure of hearing his first attempts at
oratory. His copi" verborum,lh* elegant simplicity
oi I.is style and the pointedness of his argument were
truly remarkable in one of his years.
i.ioing-to-college, unlike it is to many, was no
cross to him. He had not only a strong and shining
mental" endowment by nature, but he possessed in-quisitiveness
of mind in aneminer.t degree. He was
transported at the thought of becoming a collegian
and of enjoying the rich and fascinating scenes in
the wide universe of knowledge through which he was
lo be led by the hands of the learned and to which
Me societies of that institution invited him. He did
not, however, confine himself exclusively and closely
td his U al books. He cared not what his teachers,
or the world night think of hie conduct; he regar-ded
only the cravings and immortal longings of his
mind. Nor was he wrong, though we would not in-culcate
non-attention, as a general thing, to the reg-ular
course of studies laid down at colleges and uni-versities
. yet we hou«Btly believe it is not most ad-vantageous
for all persons to do so. In fact, very
lew minds, can pursue a fixed, prescribed, dry
course of reading wilh contentment and profit.
sli, iiiireflecting minds may,—active, inquir-ing,
brilliant ones cannot! To be jntertained, bl-ed,
developed, enriched, they rrust be allow-ed
the deep pools of lore in which to dive and
"drag uji I'rowned honor by the leeks," andthcethe-real
heights of elegant learning in which to bathe
thi wings of their fancy and to dazzle the eye of
their genius '. 11 you crave to read a particular book,
or to investigate a particular subject, drop all else,
buckle down to it. master it, which car. be done in
half the time and without the irksomeness and ex-haustion
required if undertaken when the mind
saught not its acquaintance, and, then, you will
m it strcnger, wiser.better, more enlightened.
brough a book, and your heart not in it, nor
j i.: mind upon it, and it is time lost, far worse than
lost,— a habit of inattention, and hurriedness, and
carlecsness, is fixed, which like the spot of the leop-ard
can never be changed. Such was the judgment
of young Gray, though lie was, at times, a close, dil-igent,
unwearied student. Whatsoever he did, he
did with all his heait, might, soul and body. He
i Davidson College to study; but he had in-dependenoe
enough of public commendation to pur-iligently
that, which he fell, was most condu-cive
to his lasting benefit. lie was exceedingly
II 1 ol i,rid sports and the chase, and often, by day
an i night, turned out with his associates to re-
'.'ix his mind and invigorate his frail constitution.
Like Jon»on in his Masques, he held, that,
Hunting is the noblest exercise,
Makes men laborious, active, wise,
Brings health, and doth the spirits delight,
t helps Uie hearing, and the sight:
It teacheth arts that never slip
1 ne memory. t„od horsemanship,
Search, *harP,ie,.; courage and defence,
And uhaseth all ,11 M,its thence."
most of his time was . 8pc„, wUn nie h<toU 0I
hie pen in his hand. Carlos Wilcox didnot Mieve
more sincerely, that
'■No good of worth sublime will Heaven
permit
To light on man, as from the passing air;
The lamp of genius, though by nature lit.
If not protected, prun'd, and fed with' care,
*oon dies, or runs to waste with fitful glare."
He was no aspirant for honors in his class; but
;n -he society he stood foremost in elegant and ac-c
.mplished .-peaking. He read so much and so
thoroughly, that he had a large and rich fund of in-orination
on all subjects that were sprung upon the
Hall. His speech at the commencement of 1851,
when he graduated, was on 'Napoleon at Waterloo."
He chose the last grand struggle of "the brightest
genius this world has ever produced, ' to bor-row
his own language, as the theme on which
he should make his debut in public. The "Man
of Destiny" and the "Iron Duke," these were top-ics,
which were worthy the most graceful rhetoric
and the happiest elocution. His thoughts were so
stirring, his language so splendid, that the ir.y and
fickle ciowd with "mute attention hung upon his
lips."
Eeturning tc his father's home, Mr. Gray receiv-ed
at his hands a rich and cultivated plantation in
Randolph, only a few miles south of the North Car-olina
Central Railroad, and a sufficiency of servants
to keep and till it. That was the realization of the
air easiles of perfect human felicity, which had
been bodied forth by his imagination in its richest
picturings. He haa no taste or desire for any of the
learned professions,-he wished to be an independ-ent
scientific agriculturist and a gentleman of let-ters
ana learned leisure. Thus he lived batcheloring
it, for seven years. Meantime, he read every
thing in history, philosophy, politics, romance
and belles le'.tres which came in his way. Nor did
he read hurriedly, or superficially ;—whatever he
took up he perused with great care and thought.
To the ancient classics he devoted no little time. He
was not, however, very fond of Greek, and while at
College, though he had studied it earefully before,
he read only enough to maintain a respectable stan-ding
in his class ; but Latin he always loved. This
he continued to read. He reviewed Virgil, Horace,
Cicero and in fact his whole course of schol-astic
studies. Like Archins, the poet and friend of
Cicero, from his classical reading, he "imbibed the
principle, that glory and virtue should be the dar-ling
objects cf life and that, to attain these, all diffi-culties
and dangers were to be despised." He did
not lay aside and neglect the works of Homer, Xen-ophon,
Thucydides and Sophocles because he was
unwilling to undergo the labor or unable to under
stand their great and deep thoughts, but for the rea-son
that he was much more smitten with the sweet
poesy, sharp wit, splendid eloquence, and astute and
deep philosophy of the Romans. This industri-ous
people had incorporated and transferred the
rieh learning of the Greeks into their own magnifi
cent language and had corrected and bettered it by
there-investigation, re-study and re-writing. Rising
from these pleasing pursuits of literature, he could,
with the accomplished Tully, have truthfully said s
"Hxc itudia adtleictntiam alunt, tenectuUm oblectant,
ucunda* ret ornant, aivenis perfugium ac tolatium
prabent, delectant domi, non impediunt forit, pernocl-ant
nobucum, perigrinantur, rutticanlur .'"
In 1858, he changed his mode of living.—
His books, his field-sports, his duties as a citizen and
his business as an agriculturist, did not content his
mind. He obeyed the Scriptural injunction and took
unto himself, as his help-meet and partner, Miss
Martha Horney, the only daughter of Alexander S.
Homey, Esq., of Franklinville in his county. Then
he first enjoyed
'-Domestic happiness, that only bliss
Of paradise that has survived the fall."
No political troubles of any moment, at that time, un-settled
the pillars of State, or prognosticated the
civil internal war, which has since and is now deso-lating
the beautiful land which then smiled with
gladness and prosperity. Polticians wrangled, and
blustered, and fretled, and strutted; but the farest-discerning
and sagest statesmen did not seriously
apprehend, that they would, by their dangerous and
unscrupulous teachings and acts, early and, in so I
dreadful a wise, '-deal damnation round the land." j
Mr. Gray-read and studied the political history of
the past and was familiar with the "men and meas-ures"
of the times ti:en passing; and he was a strong,
ardent and decided Whig; still he kept himself afar
off from the dusty arena of politics and p irsaed "the
noiseless tenor of his way" mid the sequestered vale
of rural life. He loved the country, he loved the
life of the husbandman, he loved his books, he lov-ed
to study and to meditate, he loved quiet and soli-tude,
he loved his home all the more that now it
was radiated by the loveliness and attractiveness of
an amiable and accomplished woman, and he weuld
not suffer aught to allure or seduce him from those
pleasing and delightful pursuits and enjoyments.
The honors, which glittered iu the path of po-litical
preferment, had no charms for him. He es-teemed
them hollow, unsubstantial, unsatisfying and
full of vexations and disappointments. Thus was
he passing his life, and thus was he determined to
live, on that sad and evil day, when President Lin-coln
plunged, by his folly and madness, the freest,
greatest, most truly blessed people of the earth into
the direst and most stupendous civil, fratricidal
war which has cursed the world since the begin-ning
of time. Stirred by his patriotism, by the jus-tice
of the defence which the South resolved to make,
the martial spirit kindled and glowed brightly in
his bosom. At once, he made up his mind to spend
his time, his talents, his physical strength, his all if
need be, in the defence and maintainsJce of South-ern
institutions and rights. He mourned to leave
his home and its endearments, his wife and his chil-dren;
but duty called and he was too proud and pa-triotic
to disicgard its pleadings. On the ISth day
of June, 1861 he was commissioned captain of a
company which ho had raised in his own county and
of which he had been chosen the commander.
He wa3 placed in the 12th Regt. of North Caro-lina
Volunteers, now inown as the 22 Regt. of
State Troops. Of this regiment the talented, learn-ed,
accomplished Pettigrew was elected Colorel. He
commanded it for near a year, and by drilling and
judicious discipline, he made it one of the best in
the Confederate service. Col. Pettigrew was emi-nently
skilled in military science, and he was unu-sually
affable and agreeable in his intercourse with
his oflicors and men. All loved him, all admired
his great ability and large acquiremeuts, and each
officer cheerfully and gladly sat at the feet of this
Gamaliel of military tactics and science and learned
his duty as a soldier. None was an apter or more
delighted student than Capt. Gray.
His regiment was first sent te Evansport on the
Potomac where it remained until (he Spring of 1862
At the time of the grand retreat from Manassas by
Gen. Jos. E. Johnston, Pettigrew'* regiment moved
back toward the Capital, ar d, then, marched down
on the Peninsula and took its place there in line of
battle. It was in the reserve at the engagements at
West Point and Williamsburg. Nor was it in any
important engagement, until the battle of Seven
Pines was fought. Col Lightfoot was in command
of the regiment on that day, and Gen. Pettigrew of
the brigade. This noble regiment, on that day,
gave incontestible evidence to the country of the
splendid part it was destined to act in the awful
tragedies which were afterward to redden and im-mortalize
other and more hotly contested fields.
Capt. Gray was at ,ne head of his chivalric compa-ny
and endeared himself to his men by his heroic
courage and daring.
On the 18th of June, the regiment re-organized
mnder the Conscript Act. James Conner WM elect-ed
Colonel; Coot Eobert H. Gray.Lieutenant-CoL;
and Capt. C. C. Cole, Major. Captain Gray was per-sonally
popular not only with his own men but with
the officers and private*, of the regiment. His ma-jority
in that election was large. No better man
could have been selected.
Hit personal courage was not surpassed by any,
and he afterward evinced in .the camp and on the
field extraordinary tact, skill and ability in govern-ing
men and in handling his regiment in actions.
Scarcely were the new officers broken into the har-ness
of the war-horse, when the booming of cannen
announced the commencement of the terrific and
dreadful battlee around the Southern capital. For-ward
they dashed to the fight, the Ttry first to meet
and set in motion the retrograde march of MeClel-lan
and his well-drilled and magnificent army. CoL
Conner was wounded early and badly. Lieut. Col.
Gray then took command. His noble brother sol-dier,
Maj. Cole, in speaking of hie assuming com-mand,
wrote, that "Col Gray will manage his regi-ment
very weU He is very firm in his decisions, a
very necessary ingredient in such an officer-" He
was on every field during that seven days' fight;
was always at the head of his gallan: regiment j
ever had his eye on the foe and on the color of his
command; and was never touched in his person
with any missile thrown by musket, rifle, or artille-ry.
Ou the day and in the sharp contest with the
enemy, in which Lieut. Charles lost his life, 'CoL
Gray," writes Maj. Cole, "missing the color, rush-ed
forward to inquire after it, fearing it had fallen
into the hands of the enemy. As he reached the
spot where Charles fell, Sergeant Greenleaf, of Co.
K., seeing it fall, had rushed in, gathered it up and
was waving it over his head and crying eut: •Colo-mi,
hire is our flag'"' Here seven of the color-guard
had fallen, either dead or wounded; here the
flag-staff was cut in two jost beneath the celor;
heie the top was cut off by a grape-shot; here the
flag was completely riddled with bullets and frag-ments
of shells. His regiment won immortal honor
en every field which they entered. They were in
almost every fight and the thickest of it; and they
returned to their old camp, after the enemy had em-barked,
fearfully reduced in numbers and exhaust-ed
in strength. Such was the bearing of Col. Gray,
throughout this series of brilliant and blazing bat-tles,
that his brave men afterward only loved him
the more. He was naturally sociable; and the sol-dier-
life only increased and more fully developed
that quality of his hesrt- He loved the men who
could proudly and unflinchingly "»eek the bubble
reputation at the cannon's mouth," and when he
was off duty, they were allowed to approach him as
a familiar friend and make themselves easy and un-restrained
in his society. He patiently heard their
wants; deeply sympathized with them in their self-denials
and hardships ; spoke words of oheer, as
few tongues could, in their hours of despondency ;
and felt keenly for them and their safety in the
dread hour of battle. 'No matter where he was or
in whose presence, whether a brigadier or a private,
he bore himself with the same nonchalance and un-ceremoniousness.
The force of his brilliant intel-lect
and the genuine goodness of his heart were such,
that they ever elicited respect and even admiration
from all who came within the circle where he moved.
On the drill, in the field, in the regular discharge of
all his official duties, he was firm, decisive and com-manding.
Every man had to know his place und be
in it; nor did any offender escape just and merited
punishment through a morbid sympathy or a false
judgment on his part. He knew how to be both ge-nerous
and just, nor could anything cause him to
swerve from the plain path of duty.
He chanced to see the field glass and case of Col.
Simmons, a Yankee officer who was killed in one et
the fights in front of Richmond, in the hands of one
of his men. He sought the history of it, and, think-ing
they would be a precious memorial to his sorrow-stricken
friends, Col. Gray purchased them and sen1
them to Brig. Gen. Geo. A. McCftll, of the U. S. A.»
who responded to him in these handsome words: "I
have received, to-day, through Mr. Stokes, the Field
Glass andCaee of the late Col. S. G. Simmons, U. S.
^rmy, which was taken from his person by a soldier,
while wounded on the battle-field of June 30th ulti-mo—
and purchased by you. I beg leave to assure
you that I appreciate the noble feeling which has
prompted you to restore this memento to his family .
and I shall with great pleasure comply with your
wishes in this respect." There was true nobili'y of
heart and mind in that act. He cou'.d feel for the
bereaved companion of the gallant dead and could
appreciate the overflowing tenderness with which
she would greet that beautiful memento. Ay, he
could rise above that sordid, grovelling baseness,
which can see no chivalry and magnanimity in his
foe. such as are manifested in the note of Gen. Met'all.
His hatred of the enemy had not caused him to for-get
the beautilul teaching of Christ—"Love your
enemies,"—nor the golden rule—"Do unto other*
as you would have '.hem do unto you."
While they were resting and recruiting from the
severities of the seven-days' toil through which they
had just passed, three ladies of Virginia plaoed the
names of the battles, in which they largely shared
the glory, upon their battle-flag For this kind, act
Col. Gray thus felicitously wrote them: "Allow me,
in the name of the officer* and men of the 22nd
Regiment N. C. Troops, to thank you for the honor
you have done us in placing upon our Battle-flag the
names of the conflicts in which we have participated.
Rendered now more dear and sacred to us by the
labor of your fair hands, it will be our pride and
glory to bear it forward wherever duty may call:
And rest assured, that it will never be furled or
trailed in the duet while we have arms and lives to
devote to the defenee of it and of the home* of the
fair ladies who»e generous handiwork it bear* upon
its folds. Permit me, Ladies, in my own name to
thank you for the kindness you have done n* ; and
to express the hope, that war may never impose
upon you any more painful or unwelcome task than
that you have so gracefully performed in decorating
our Banner." Soon, thereafter, they were put in
motion and bore forward, toward Cfdar Run, that
new and elegant standard of Southern freedom and
independence. But it trailed not in the dust on that
well-fought field, nor ever afterward. Those were not
the men to permit it such a dishonor. They felt, that
though "the path of glory leads but to the grave,"
yet the path of duty leads to a higher and better
destiny, and they were prepared to tread it firmly
and manfully.
Cedar Creek, or Slaughter Mountain, was a glori-ous
little battle-ground ! Col. Gray's men, with
him at their head, acted most conspicuously on that
day. They were engaged about an hour and a half,
and charged farther than any others. In this su-perb
charge, they cut a regiment of Yankee Cavalry
to pieces, and repulsed and routed their infantry
most disastrously. They always spoke ot it aa the
most handsome engagement in which they ever
participated—loftier chivalry will never be display-by
any troops.
Thence, Col. Gray, who was seized with typhoid
fever, was sent home. He had been absent over a
year from his family. Though sick, that was a joy-ous
d*y to bina. After he had thrown himself, all
tired and exhausted, upon the hard ground to sleep,
he had often, in his dreaming ear, heard the voices
of his loved wife and his dear little Alek and, in the
bliss of the moment, he, time and again, fancied,
that he beheld that other child, as
" It lay upon its mother'* breast, « thing
Bright as a dew-drop when it first descends,
Or as the plumage of an angel's wing.
Where -very tint of rainbow beauty blends."
Now. the ecstacy of the dream was to be realised
in all the pleasantness of reality. A few days'
travel, and the father stood at the threshold where
he beheld his three jewels—wife, eon and babe !
But hi* stay was not of long continuance. In sixty
days, recruited somewhat, though not by any means
well, he hastened to his regiment, which waa then
returning from the first Maryland caiapaign and res-ting
en the hills around glorious eld Winchester.
From that place they soon fell back to the south
bank of the Rappahannock. There they awaited the
expected advance of the Yankees. As winter be-gan
to blow cold, they came. The battle of Fred-ericksburg
was fought and a splendid victory won
bj our veteran soldiery. Gray and his men were
foremost in the perils of that bloody day, and new
chaplets ofmartial renown wreathed their brows aa
the sun wen down on the heights of that ancient
borough.
That was the last scene of conflict, through which
Col. Gray was to pass. His weakened constitution,
instead of rallying and improving, was continually
growing worse and worse. He ought not to have
attempted to spend that severe season in camp. Had
be been in his usual health, the trial would have
been perilous for one of his naturally feeble consti-tution.
But he was, nevertheless, all hilarity and
cheerfulness ; and, in the memory of hi* associates,
those were golden days. He was highly companion-able,
genial and engaging. He was now more the
idol of his men than ever before. AH delighted to
gather around him in his tent, or anywhere he might
be in the quarters, to listen to his conversation and
enjoy his wit. And around the mess-table, one of
his fellow-officers tells me, he made himself the
most agreeable companion he ever met. Not only
his agreeableness impressed them, but his infinite
fund of learning amazed them. At almost every
meal, to which he sat'down, he had some pieee of
Greek, Latin, or English poetry to repeat, which
seemed, from its appropriateness, to have been coin-ed
for each special occasion. He had a few books
with him, but he did not read a great deal. He was
often occupied in writing. He composed short sto-ries,
and occasional ditties, to amuse himself, and,
then, destroyed them. Among his scraps, which he
left in his portfolio, a gem of poetry was found,
that persuades me he was conscious that he would
net live long :
" Weep not for me, let not a tear,
Save those ofjoy alone,
Bedew the cheeks of loved ones here
When I am dead and gone.
•
What, though in death, this mortal flesh
Is to corruption given,
I know that God will raise it up
To live with Him in Heaven.
Weep not for me, when mem'ry brings
My form before your eyes,
My ransomed spirit then will be
With saints in Paradise.
Wee; not forme, but ground your faith
On Him for sinners slain ;
And when your work on earth is done, •
We'll meet in Heaven again :
In Heaven where weeping, pain and death
And parting are unknown,
To bask forever in His smiles
And worship round His Throne"
Besides, it breathes an earnest strain of piety,
which warrants a lively hope, that his "ransomed
spirit"is now " with saints in Paradise."
He died in Camp Gregg near Fredericksburg on
the 16th of March, 1863. He had passed unscathed
through seven pitched battles, in six of which he
had commanded nis regiment, and through numer-ous
skirmishes. Disease had reserved him for its
own victim, and this noble martyr of his country
now sleeps quietly in Uopewoll churchyard in the
spot which ho selected fer his last, long bivouac. To
his excellent lady, the immortal PBXD-IIB, who has
since sacrificed his life for the South, addressed the
following tribute to the exalted worth of his fellow-soldier,
ROBEBT HABPKB GBAY: "Allow me to as-sure
you of my most sincere sympathy in your great-est
of all bereavements. You will feel that I am
sincere, when you know that I lost one of my best ;
friends and the service one of its most gallant and
efficient officers. I have known your lamented hus-band
since June last, and feel that I am not passing
the bounds of simple truth in stating th it the Army
had no more intelligent, brave, or efficient officer.
We all deplore the loss of such a man, and no higher
tribute could be paid him, than the affection borne I
him by his command. His children, in after years,
may look back with a jusi pride io the distinguished ,
services and devoted patriotism of their father. Thi*,
I know, madam, can be but little comfort for the
loss of a husband. That can come alone from Him,
who disposes of all things, and the knowledge that
all things are directed by Him for the best."
Him she hath lost, but all is not lost;—Alek and
Robbie, the images of their father, are yet preserved
to her, and, in future years, the sincere, idolizing,
filial affection, now germinating in their young
hearts, will breathe into hers the encouraging and
supporting solicitation :
"Mother, thy name is widow—well
We know no love of ours can fill
The waste place of thy heart, or dwell
Within one sacred recess—still
Lean on the faithful bosom* of thy torn,
Our parent, thou art out; our only one!"
■† » ■
INCREASING THE ARMY.—Some very wild
propositions for increasing oar forces in
tbe field have been submitted in both
Houses of Congress—so wild, indeed, that
wo cannot bat suppose that, in the esti-mation
of certain memb-rs, secoasion from
the United States did not involve a sep.
aration from Buncombe. To tho prudent
and providont men of Congress, the sub-sistence
of tbe army and the needful supply
of material of war appears as grave a
question as the increase of our fighting
force. It is to be hoped they will not per-mit
themselves to lose sight of the impor-tance
of these matters, nor be unduly
affocted either by tbe impatience of those
who would rip tbe goose for its _ golden
eggs, or the panic of tuoso who think tbe
time has come for grinding tbe seed corn.
The invader* can do but littlo more this
Winter, and next Spring they lose all or
nearly all their best troops. Let us be
composed, and guard against all intem-perance
and alarm.—Richmond Whig
REPORT OF THE SECRETARY OF TBB TREA8
UB.T.
BICBIPTS no* Jan. 1ST Te SBFT. UOTH, 1883.
For sight per cent, stock, #107,292,900 70
•**« do 88.787,660 70
•ix do 6,810,060 00
ivs do call certiieates, 1!2,W2,900 00
_ tou do 482,200 00
Cotton certiieates, aet April %\, 1862, 2.000,000 00
Interest on loans, 140,210 11
54r *"• 4.12*\»88 97
Treasury notes, 881,623,580 00
Sequestration, 1.86S.660 2l
Cuetosss, 934,798 68
Expert duty en cotton, 8,101 78
Patent fund, 10,794 04
Miscellaneous, including repayments
by disbursing officers, 2 4498,217 93
" " ■"
Total, $601,622,893 12
BXPUDITCU* DCRIS'i TBB SAMS PMIOD.
War Department, 877,988,244 00
£*TT do 38,487,661 00
CJVII Mi*ceUaneou«, 4c., 11,629,278 00
£u,t,0,a». 66.C86 09
Public debt, S2.212.S90 00
Notes cancelled and redeemed, 69,044,449 Of)
Total of expenditures,
Total of receipts,
Balanoein Treasury,
From which is to be deducted the
am't of Treasury notes which
have been funded and brought
in for cancellation, but have
not yet been regulary audited,
estimated at
619.868,569 00
601,522,898 00
$82 154,884 00
66,000,000 00
_, #17,164,834 00
The public debt (exclusive of foreign loan) at the
same period, was a* follows:
ICIDI).
Eight per cents, 207,128,750 00
Seven do 42,746,600 00
£;* do 41,006,270 00
Six do cotton interest bonds, 2,035,000 00
Total,
UNVCMDSD.
Treasury notes -•
General currency,
Two year notes.
Interest notes at 8.-65,
do do 7:30,
Under $5,
Five per cent, call certificate*.
Total,
Deduct amount of Treasury note*
funded and cancelled, above re-ferred
to
$298,915,620 00
608 832,798 00
8,477,976 00
627,450 00
122,582,200 00
4,887,085 00
26,240,000 00
$766,447,519 00
66,000;00O 00
$701,447,619 00
In order to estimate the amount of Treasury note*
in circulation at the date of this report, there must
be added the further sum of one hundred millions
for the two months which have elapsed since the
date of the above schedule.
The balances of appropriations already made by
Congress, and not drawn on 30th September, stood
as follows :
War Department, $395,602,698 90
KMT, 24,413,645 00
Civil, miscellaneous, &c, 56,240,996 00
Total, #476,451,799 00
The estimate submitted by the various Depart-ments
for the suppoit of the Government, are made
to 1st July, 1864, the end of the fiscal year, and are
a* follows:
Legislative Department, $309,005 00
Executive " 52,350 00
Treasury " 22,583,359 80
War " 438,078,870 00
Navy - « 18,624,945 00
State •« 544,409 00
Justices " 222,587 00
Post Office " 82,968 00
NesrroeN To hire, and some to sell, on the 1st
day of January next. Among them an expe-rienced
tanner, five good farm hands, men several
boys and girls. J«D H. LINDSAY,
declO 7"~*w
Total, #475,498,193 00
If these estimate* be extended to embrace the re-maining
six month* of the calendar year, they must
be doubled, and that sum added to the updrawn
appropriatiens would make an aggregate of $1,427,-
448,778, which Congress ia formally called upon to
provide. It is obvious, however, that the amount* to
the credit of updrawn appropriation* oannoi. be call-ed
for, inasmuch aa there remain but three months
of the present calendar year, to be provided for, and
the expenditures are limited to fifty millions per
month. So too as to the estimates. Any measure*
which will properly reduce the currency will act
upon piice* and thereby materially reduce the esti-mates.
But the larger figures exhibit to us in a distinct
and tangible form the problem which we are now
required to solve. The currency has by this tint*
attained dimensions of five times its proper size. Tbe
estimatee are based upon prices fixed by this condi-tion
of the currency. If these estimates are to be
supplied by new issues of currency, prices must
again increase and larger additions must be made io
the figures which represent both currency and esti-mates.
It is obvious, therefore, that pome other
mode of raising supplies must be devised ; and the
necessity is equally obvious of redueing the curren-cy.
We are thus distinctly presented wii h these two
conditions, as necessary elements of problem te be
solved, namely; reduction of the existing currency,
and a supply ofmean* from some source other than
Treasury notes.
DRIED PUMPKINS.—In tbe winter eeas »n,
when vegetables are scarce, dried pump-kins
would bo found an excellent vegeta-ble
for tbe army generally, as well as the
hospitals, and where dried fruit could not
be obtained, this article would prove a
good substitute, if planters would dry
their pumpkins, an abundant supply of
which could be obtained evory where in the
Confederacy.
The process of drying is as follows :
The finest pumpkins, thoroughly ripe,
shoald bo selected. Lay one on its side on
a table, cut off tbe end to the hollow, take
out the seeds, and continue to cut slice
after slice, about an inch in width, until
the whole hollow of the pumpkin is cut
out in rings. Then peel the rind off each
ring, and hang them on sticks to dry in an
airy room, passago or loft. When dried,
the luscious rings are reduced to ribands.
But I think there ia nothing lost but the
wator, which is re supplied by cooking.
Thoy may be packed in a small compass
for transportation. If thoroughly dried
they will keep a long time.
THE POLES.—A Berlin letter to the Lon-don
Times professes to have iuformation
frem Warsaw, that "the whole Polish in-surgent
force under arms does not num-ber
more than 15,000 men, while fully ten
times as many Russian soldiers are enga-ged
in restraint and suppression." The
letter also states that the seizure of arms
and supplies have been so exttnsivo that
every weapon now in tho bands of the pa.
triots may bo looked upon as having cosl
twenty times its original price, and the
frontier is so strictly watched that a rath-er
considerable corps, which has been
formed outside or it, was lately compelled
to abandon tbe idea of crossing. The
letter further addst "Still, the determined '
spirit of the population seems in no degree ■
to flag, even under the unexampled rigors j
of the Russian military government, of j
which we have just bad Ircsh examples in i
the confiscation of Waroaw, of tbe Grabow- j
*ki house, and in the imprisonment of the (
Bernadine monks, in whose convent a
chest of gunpowder was alleged to have
been found." '
ExicuTtVE ENCROACHMENTS.—Several of
the roensures and resolutions introduced tbe
present session of Congress bear on their
face the'eonflictine intentions of limiting or
of extending the Executive authority. Tbe
provisions of tho Constitution in the main
are plain and clear. A liberal construc-tion,—
a little stretching beyond,—is insis-ted
upon on the one side ; strict adherence
to the letter of restraint is jealously de-manded
on the other. The constitution of
the Executive Department was ioSnitelr
the most difficult part ia creating our pres-ent
government. To give it such power
as should make it useful, with such re-straint*
that it shoald not become danger-ous
j to make it efficient, independent and
strong, yet prevent its subverting every-thing
by its union of military and civil
power, by its influence of patronage, office
and favor, was not an easy task It ■> in
the watchful no s of Executive power and
the preservation of every restraint and
guard which the Constitution has provi.
dod that our security lies. Good motive*
should always bo supposed to exist, till the
reverse is ascertained. Good intentions
may be tho plea for the assumption of
power, but, whatever oar assurance of their
existence, cannot justify it. To guard
against the dangers of good intentions, real.
or pretended, is the aim of the Constitu-tion.
Vet shall claims—so fair, so plausi-ble,
and patriotic, whose object is alono the
public good, meet with unresisting'compli-ance
? The extension of Executive au-thority
finds no advocate in the list oi
champions of human freedom. Tboir uni-form
and steady purpose has been to limit
and restrain it. Popular and representa-tive
right have ever been at war against
prerogative. Ita contest for ages has been
to rescue liberty from the grasp of Execu-tive
power. All that could bo gained from
the imprudence, the weakness, the necessi-ties
of this power has been gathered and
hoarded as the very jewels ol liberty. Let
us cot disregard constitutional restraints
for pretences of publio safety or high pub-lic
interest. Limitations and qualifications
of authority, and the just divixioos of po-litical
power, aro the very essence of re-publican
institutions. The separation of
departments as far as practicable, and tbe
preservation of clear lines of division bo-tween
them, is tho fundamental idea oi our
Constitution. Shall we attempt now to
simplify the necessary complications of our
government which establishes restraints
on the govorning as well at governed ?
Where will it stop ? Shall it bo in the ar-bitrary
rulo of the Executive ? The sim-plest
governments are despotisms.
[Richmond Whig.
■ » ■
"THE STARVED SOUTH."
. Under this caption the New York Daily
Xews publishes the following answer lo an
article in tho Tribune :
The Tribune with ill limed factiousness
adopts the jocular vein in allud.ng to the
misery and destitution supposod to prevail
throughout the South. With jest and sar-casm
it recapitulates what, in its hope, are
the necessities and privations of our South-ern
countrymen. It exults because there
is a scarcity of food for Confederate wo-men
and childron ; it fastens ridicule upou
Confederate soldiers because they toil
barefooted on the painful march; it makes
merry because the hungry aro without
bread and the sick without the means of
nourishment and recuperation. Oarj jyous
colemporary is humorous upon a melan-choly
theme. If it had confined itself lo a
review of the straits to which tho rebels
aro reduced for the purpose of arguing a
limit to their powers of -endurance, the ar-gument
set iorth with soberness and deco-rum
would come within tho legitimate
bounds ot joumalastic discussion. But to
make starvation and physical suffering tbe
themo for laughter and mockery gives an
apt illustration of that philanthropy which
the Abolitionists claim as their paramount
incentive.
But let us admit as a reality the fearful
picture which tho TriCune limns with BO
much gastly lovity. Let us suppose iho
Southerners perishing for food and naked
to tbe polling storm wearing his unshod,
weary feet, bleeding along tho frozen road,
and his wife plying her benumod fingers in
constant toil to buy the scanty loaf, and
his children with their cheeks and lusterlcss
eyes languidly fading throughout the win-ter
day. Let it be realized tbat the stout
hearts that have braved our bayonets and
cannon, must quail under tho keeL agonies
of hunger, or yield lest ther loved ones die
of destitution, what victory shall we then
havo won, what a glorious political cr-ed
shall we have vindicated ? Will it bo tho
triumph of the pinciplo of solf-governmcnlF
Our prondost boast will be to have conquen
ed a starvation fre, who baffled our utter-most
energies while they bad tho bare re-quisites
of nature. Our political achieve-ments
will have been tbe sullen and enfor-ced
submission of so many million of fam-ine
struck and helpless human beings
whoso physical necessities have induced
ihem to acquisce in a political companion-ship
abhorrent to their inclinations. Will
that bo "the consent of the governed !"—
Wiil such an allianco constitute a republic?
We can claim no more than that the ab-sence
of bread and meat and other essen-tials
to the sustenance of life, as enumera-ted
by tt.e Tribune, shall have made a num-ber
of our fellow men our vessals, and our
republicanism an essence of tho past.
However tho experience of that past does
not teach us that hardship and privation un*
nerve tho souls of men and curb them to
submission. Tbe well-clad hirelings of
King George, whose camp-kottlcs overflow-ed
with nourishment, exemplified tbr futil-ity
of tho endeavor to starve the Gud-given
spirit out of freemen, when our hungry,
barefooted, and tatler-vestcd forefathers
drove them from the soil they had conse-crated
to liberty. It is luxury that enerva-tes.
It is abundance that breeds sloth
ard creates infirmity of purpose. Adver-sity
that chastens, strengthens as well, and
these lean and hungry Confederates, like
Indian Dervish, will fit»d inspiration in
their agony, and the gift of endurance in
its necessity. The free air of heaven to
breathe and a principle to contend, for, ure
ail the sustenance that free souls need, and
for physical wants natire has provided eo
abundantly in the South that decades ot
civil strife will not exhaust the supply tbat
is absolutely essential to subsistence.
There is, doubtleos, ulready a very gen-