We think we can se through to the end of the rebellion. How far off it is we cannot measures – what lies between we cannot see. How much more money, how much more blood will be drawn from us, no man can estimate now; but we feel in our bones that whatever the nation demands will be given. We shall be called upon to sacrifice more, much more, but it will be done. We have advanced where there is no retreat – the bridges are burned behind us! Onward, ONWARD! is the cry; for onward to the bloody end is a far safer path than we shall traverse if we attempt to return. The nation will never consent that the rivers of blood that have bathed so many battle-fields shall have flowed in vain. The soil that is thus consecrated will never be surrendered to traitors again.
Politicians may scheme and maneuver as they please, but this sore, strong, bleeding nation must forget its wounds before it will resign the soil these wounds have purchased. Will the Mississippi ever be given back to Jeff. Davis and his satellites? Never, while it laves the bluffs of Vicksburg and Port Hudson! Will Louisiana be permitted to bind a cord around the great national artery which throbs along to the Valley of the Alleghanies, and to the Rocky Mountain Springs? Never, till the resurrection trumpet calls the sailors and soldiers of Farragut and Sherman from their rude graves. Kentucky and Tennessee, are they to be abandoned again to the enemy? Fort Donelson, Murfreesboro, Chicamauga, Georgia and Virginia, which, mile by mile, and inch by inch, has been wrested from rebeldom by the bloody sword, – these vales all dotted by patriot’s graves, – those ridges were our men fought above the clouds, – Atlanta, on which Sherman has clenched his iron hand, – are these ever to be given up again? Yes, but not till this bloody record is razed out of the national memory – when these battle-scarred fields shall give back their dead to these afflicted homes, – but not till then.
Vicksburg, Gettysburg, Spottsylvania, Atlanta, the Shenandoah, and a score of other bloody blows plants on the head of the rebellion, although delivered with great loss of blood and strength to the nation, are yet to be followed by swifter and fiercer blows, beneath which treason must fall.
The end is sure! although we have not reached it yet. This is the death-grapple, but it is with a despairing giant, bound to have drop for drop to the last. We shall conquer and out triumph will be the grandest incident in human history, but will cost the tension of every muscle and nerve to do it. Not only the soldier in the field, the sailor on board the ship, but the farmer in the field, the mechanic in the shop, the seamstress with her needle, must toil and struggle, and suffer, be watchful and brave, to achieve this victory. We must pay our taxes cheerfully, suffer cheerfully for our country, if we would gain this glorious result. The morning cometh, let us prepare for it.
Compromise was a witching syren “once,” but that has vanished now in the smoke of many battle-fields. “Democracy, a radiant goddess,” once, is nailed into the coffin which she has built for herself, and dropped into a bottomless grave. Color-prejudice is fast vanishing before the hundreds of thousands of glittering bayonets. In his own blood the black man has helped to wash away the stain. From bootblack to wagoner, from wagoner to private, from private to officer, he goes steadily marching on. Cursed by the men that should shout and cheer him on his way, still onward he presses, till bye and bye he may occupy seats of learning with white men, stand before us in the pulpit, and break the sacramental bread into our hands at the altar.
But let us be patient. It may be long from daybreak till dawn. Not in a day, or a month, can this great rebellion be settled. Therefore we must work hard, work late, and work long.
Knoxville, Tenn., Oct. 18, ’64.
Dear Journal: – If some of your readers could see the splendid weather here now, they would never return to your bleak, Borean prairies. Why bless you, on this, near the last day of October, we are sitting with raised windows, and have had nothing which could be called cold weather yet. But I read in Ohio and Indiana papers of snows, and a dispatch from Indianapolis says: “Our second snow fell last night.” Oh! ye unhappy dwellers near the breathing place of the Northern Pole (or) Bear.
While you are all intent on political squabbles in the North, we are as cool as cucumbers here. There have been two or three Union speeches delivered in town, but the attendance was not large, and they were in the day-time, and of course not invested with any of the feverish enthusiasm which artificial light generates among a crowd. No unlucky wight has yet appeared in this portion of the State (outside of old Vaughn’s rebel brigade) with effrontery enough to advocate the two-horned abortion composed of a peace platform and Jiniral McLillan. A few of the traitorous devils who have been rebels and have sworn to a lie by “taking the oath,” are for him, but they do not care to commit themselves by taking the stump.
A good many soldiers are going home on a brief furlough, till after the election. I notice that copperhead papers say that only those who promise to vote for Mr. Lincoln are allowed to go. This assertion of theirs is pretty good proof that it is the other way, as indeed any observer knows. Any soldier knows that they are not asked their politics, and I know, as far as my observation extends, that more in proportion of McClellan men are sent than Lincoln men. Being a soldier and editing a soldier’s paper, I have very good means of finding out these matters. I saw a squad of eleven start for your State to-day, all belonging to Elgin Battery.
You wonder why any soldier will vote for McClellan, and I do, too. But the explanation is found in the fact that many do not understand the platform he is running on and others think he is a soldier and will disregard that instrument. I honestly believe that any man, be he citizen or soldier, who will vote for him and believes he will carry out that platform, is a traitor to his country!
Provisions are very scarce in East Tennessee, especially meat. The armies that have occupied the country have killed all the hogs, and the farmers have not had a chance to raise others. Side-bacon now sells in this town at 50 cents per lb. I saw a man the other day, a renting farmer, who, to get this pork, sold greenbacks for gold, at three dollars per one, then paid eight cents per lb. in gold for his pork, thinking he got it cheap. Coffee retails in Knoxville for $1.25 per lb. I pay at the rate of $12 per week for day board (eating alone) in a private family. Perhaps you may think this overbalances our fine weather; sometime I think so myself. Perhaps it will surprise you when I say that I have known whisky to sell here within a week past, for $32 per gallon, and very poor stuff at that. The authorities are determined to stop the sale of it to soldiers, and have closed all the drinking places and distilleries in the neighborhood.
Speaking of whisky reminds me of a good joke. Last Saturday the Chief of Army Police, in town, heard of a distillery, located about thirteen miles southeast. A sergeant and three men were sent to squelch it. They found only four gallons on hand, which they took possession of and closed the establishment, carrying the “fluid” with them. After riding a short distance, they discovered a body of rebels in pursuit, and the chase lasted four miles, when the “galliant confiscators” had to throw aside the weight which did so heavily beset them, in order to run with swiftness the race set before them, (to paraphrase part of a sermon) and arrived in town, near night, with whole skins, but no ‘ardent.”
It has been said by them of olden time that ye dam-sels in this Sunny South were very much afraid of ye Northmen in rainbow blue. Don’t you believe it. All the marriages now taking place in this section are between Lincoln hirelings and ye wrathy Southrons of the female persuasion. And your correspondent (who is an awfully modest man) and a friend had to escort a flock of no less than eleven on a small excursion (not small in character but in duration) only the other day! Oh! don’t you wish you were an unmarried soldier. The way we gathered chestnuts was amazing.
The hospitals here are now quite thinly inhabited. What with few fights, good weather, and going home to vote, they have found it necessary to discontinue one of the large hospitals, and the beautiful spot where were extended so many Yanks on beds of down (?) is now deserted forever. This must be anguish to the blazing Southern heart, which was fired in 1861 and has burned with such a fierce flame ever since.
Brig. Gen. Munson, the defeated copperhead candidate for Lieut. Governor of Indiana, has been rusticating here for some months. He is my superior officer and I cannot say anything. If he were not, how I could tell you what a fit man some one is to misrepresent a certain party I know of.
We have lately had a very welcome arrival in the shape of a new brigade band, just enlisted for the brigade which has headquarters in Knoxville. They play in front of Gen. Tillson’s headquarters, morning and evening, and attract a large crowd of music lovers.
Yours, as ever,
Grand Entertainment. – We understand the Good Templars of this city are making arrangements for holding a grand entertainment for the benefit of their lodge, on Thursday, Nov. 24th, 1864. The arrangements for holding the entertainment is in the hands of those who know no such word as fail, and we can promise our readers an entertainment well worthy their patronage. The performance will consist probably, of an oration, essay, and the performance of that celebrated and thrilling moral drama, entitled “The Drunkard, or, The Fallen Saved;” together with tableaux, and original local burlesques, one of which, “When Doctors Disagree, Who Shall Decide?” we have seen, and we know it will almost make you burst your sides with laughter, and make some people open their eyes with astonishment.
→ Sometime last week, two “women of the town” made their appearance in this neighborhood, and soon collected together a number of the young “bloods,” of whom, with the two hags, two were arrested, taken before ‘Squire Withrow, and respectively fined $10 and costs, amounting to $14.60. The women claimed to be sisters and gave their names as Morgan. The boys having promised not to do it any more, we will withhold their names from the public, but if they are ever caught in a like scrape, out comes their names in full.
→ We presume the Street Commissioner deems it unnecessary to keep the sidewalks in repair since the shutting up of the liquor shops. But we would suggest that we cannot see in the dark, drunk or sober, and the “devil” says that during the past week, while gallanting “the object o his heart” home from church, he has several times found himself and the “aforesaid” in rather an uncomely position.
Lost. – On Monday, 14th inst. in Macomb, a Photograph of a soldier, now a prisoner in the hands of the rebels. With the Photograph was a Ten Dollar Greenback, somewhere between the Depot and the Square. A reward of Two Dollars will be given for the return of the Photograph and money in this office.
Our Duty. – We deem it our duty to keep constantly before our readers that most valuable of all medicines, known as Coe’s Cough Balsam. It has stood the tests of time and experiment and all who use it speak in the most praiseworthy terms of its medical value. It is the real duty of every parent to keep a constant supply of it in the house, read, for immediate use. Not only is it a most splendid remedy for coughs, sudden colds, influenza, croup, and all throat complaints, but it is the consumptive’s great relief. When they are so far gone that no medicine will ever cure them, Coe’s Cough Balsam will be found an invaluable friend to allay the coughing, help the expectoration, and ease the sufferer. Why will ye that are suffering from coughs, colds, croup, sore throat, hoarseness – and that are liable to pulmonary attacks, not take our advice, and provide yourself with a supply of Coe’s Cough Balsam – the best and cheapest Cough Balsam in the world. It costs but forty cents, and can be found upon the counters of druggists everywhere.
Horse Thief Caught. – A man giving the name of George Smith, was arrested on Wednesday last, at Bushnell, on the charge of horse-stealing. He had in his possession a horse which was stolen from Adam Douglas, of this county. He was brought to this city and placed in the custody of Sheriff Dixon, in default of $1000 bail. On Wednesday evening the sheriff of Knox county arrived here after the same gentleman, on the same issue. We rather think Mr. Smith is gone up.
Tender-footed. – At the close of a prayer, at the Presbyterian Church, last Sunday forenoon, in which the blessings of God were invoked on the President elect, and in aid of the abolition of slavery, a prominent dry goods merchant and his wife, and an ex.-Rev. of the Dutch Reformed Church, left the church. Their chances for any of God’s blessings are very slim.
Returns Thanks. – Messrs. Williams & Berry desire us to return their sincere thanks for the very liberal patronage bestowed on them since they opened. They are doing a large business, and are keeping their stock full and complete by the constant arrival of new goods. All they can ask is a call from the public generally to convince them that they sell goods and cheap.
→ Rev. Mr. Westfall, of the Universalist Church, in this city, will deliver a sermon on Sunday evening, Nov. 27; subject, “Hell.” We presume it is Mr. W.’s intention to try and convince the people that there is no hell. If so, we hope he will tell us what is to become of the rebs and cops when they die.
Hides, Furs and Pelts. – S. F. Wright, is still purchasing hides, furs and pelts, and paying the highest market price in cash. Farmers and others having hides to sell, can do no better than to take them to Wright on the west side of the square, at M. Strader & Co’s boot and shoe store.
Furs, Furs, Furs. – The largest and best Stock of Furs is to be found at Browne’s, on south side of the Square. He has just received a new lot, and with his fine assortment defies competition in his line. Be sure and look at his stock before buying.
That Big Crowd. – We would say to our readers that that crowd always collected on the south-east corner of the Square, is drawn there by the great display of cheap groceries at Watkins & Co’s.
→ We understand that the Rev. Mr. Rhea, pastor of the M. E. church, in this city, will deliver a sermon on Thanksgiving Day, at the Presbyterian Church.
The Election. – The election on Tuesday resulted in the choice of Hawkins & Philpot to do the photographing for all this section of country. We assure our readers that they can do it as well as anybody in the business.
My son, Wm. H. Fair, having left my home, I forbid any person from harboring or trusting him.
Said boy is 17 years old, swarthy complexion, pale blue eyes, light hair, and has large ears. Had on, when he left, a red flannel shirt, snuff colored vest, a dark pair of pants, and high shoes laced in front. W. M. FAIR.