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RESOLVED, That we view with anxiety the fact that there is now a war goin' on, and RESOLVED, That we believe Stonewall Jackson sympathizes with the secession movement, and that we hope the nine-months men--At this point he was interrupted by the sounds of silvery footsteps on the stairs, and a party of wimin, carryin' guns and led by BETSY JANE, who brandish'd a loud and rattlin'

umbereller, burst into the room.

"Here," cried I, "are some nine-months wimin!""Mrs.Ward," said the editor of the "Bugle"--"Mrs.WARD and ladies, what means this extr'ord'n'ry demonstration?""It means," said that remarkable female "that you men air makin' fools of yourselves.You air willin' to talk and urge others to go to the wars, but you don't go to the wars yourselves.War meetin's is very nice in their way, but they don't keep STONEWALL JACKSON from comin' over to Maryland and helpin' himself to the fattest beef critters.What we want is more cider and less talk.We want you able-bodied men to stop speechifying, which don't 'mount to the wiggle of a sick cat's tail, and to go fi'tin'; otherwise you can stay to home and take keer of the children, while we wimin will go to the wars!""Gentl'man," said I, "that's my wife! Go in, old gal!" and Ithrow'd up my ancient white hat in perfeck rapters.

"Is this roll-book to be filled up with the names of men or wimin?" she cried.

"With men--with men!" and our quoty was made up that very night.

There is a great deal of gas about these war meetin's.A war meetin', in fact, without gas, would be suthin' like the play of HAMLET with the part of OTHELLO omitted.

Still believin' that the Goddess of Liberty is about as well sot up with as any young lady in distress could expect to be, I am Yours more'n anybody else's, A.Ward.

2.6.THE DRAFT IN BALDINSVILLE.

If I'm drafted I shall RESIGN.

Deeply grateful for the onexpected honor thus confered upon me I shall feel compeld to resign the position in favor of sum more worthy person.Modesty is what ails me.That's what's kept me under.

I meanter-say, I shall hav to resign if I'm drafted everywheres I've bin inrold.I must now, furrinstuns, be inrold in upards of 200 different towns.If I'd kept on travelin' I should hav eventooaly becum a Brigade, in which case I could have held a meetin' and elected myself Brigadeer-ginral quite unanimiss.I hadn't no idea there was so many of me before.But, serisly, I concluded to stop exhibitin', and made tracks for Baldinsville.

My only daughter threw herself onto my boosum, and said, "It is me fayther! I thank the gods!"She reads the "Ledger."

"Tip us yer bunch of fives, old faker!" said ARTEMUS, Jr.He reads the "Clipper."My wife was to the sowin' circle.I knew she and the wimin folks was havin' a pleasant time slanderin' the females of the OTHER sowin' circle (which likewise met that arternoon, and was doubtless enjoyin' theirselves ekally well in slanderin'

the fust-named circle), and I didn't send for her.I allus like to see people enjoy theirselves.

My son ORGUSTUS was playin' onto a floot.

ORGUSTUS is a ethereal cuss.The twins was bildin' cob-houses in a corner of the kitchin'.

It'll cost some postage-stamps to raise this fam'ly, and yet it 'ud go hard with the old man to lose any lamb of the flock.

An old bachelor is a poor critter.He may have hearn the skylark or (what's nearly the same thing) MISS KELLOGG and CARLOTTY PATTI sing; he may have hearn OLE BULL fiddle, and all the DODWORTHS toot, an' yet he don't know nothin' about music--the real, ginuine thing--the music of the laughter of happy, well-fed children! And you may ax the father of sich children home to dinner, feelin werry sure there'll be no spoons missin' when he goes away.Sich fathers never drop tin five-cent pieces into the contribution box, nor palm shoe-pegs off onto blind hosses for oats, nor skedaddle to British sile when their country's in danger--nor do anything which is really mean.I don't mean to intimate that the old bachelor is up to little games of this sort--not at all--but I repeat, he's a poor critter.He don't live here; only stays.He ought to 'pologize on behalf of his parients, for bein' here at all.The happy marrid man dies in good stile at home, surrounded by his weeping wife and children.The old bachelor don't die at all--he sort of rots away, like a pollywog's tail.

....

My townsmen were sort o' demoralized.There was a evident desine to ewade the Draft, as I obsarved with sorrer, and patritism was below Par--and MAR, too.[A jew desprit.] Ihadn't no sooner sot down on the piazzy of the tavoun than Isaw sixteen solitary hossmen, ridin' four abreast, wendin'

their way up the street.

"What's them? Is it cavilry?"

"That," said the landlord, "is the stage.Sixteen able-bodied citizens has literally bo't the stage line 'tween here and Scotsburg.That's them.They're Stage-drivers.Stage-drivers is exempt!"

I saw that each stage-driver carried a letter in his left hand.

"The mail is hevy, to-day," said the landlord."Gin'rally they don't have more'n half a dozen letters 'tween 'em.To-day they're got one a piece! Bile my lights and liver!""And the passengers?"

"There ain't any, skacely, now-days," said the landlord, "and what few ther is very much prefer to walk, the roads is so rough.""And how ist with you?" I inquired of the editor of the "Bugle-Horn of Liberty," who sot near me.

"I can't go," he said, shakin' his head in a wise way.

"Ordinarily I should delight to wade in gore, but my bleedin'

country bids me stay at home.It is imperatively necessary that I remain here for the purpose of announcin', from week to week, that OUR GOV'MENT IS ABOUT TO TAKE VIGOROUS MEASURES TOPUT DOWN THE REBELLION!"

I strolled into the village oyster-saloon, where I found Dr.

SCHWAZEY, a leadin' citizen in a state of mind which showed that he'd bin histin' in more'n his share of pizen.

"Hello, old Beeswax," he bellered; "how's yer grandmams? When you goin' to feed your stuffed animils?""What's the matter with the eminent physician?" I pleasantly inquired.