The Confederacy Terribly Threatened.
The Southern Confederacy is at last in the direst extremity! Loth to say that it should be so; that after such a gallant struggle — after for several years proudly defying the enemy, and slaughtering hecatombs of his myrmidons, the hour approaches that she must bite the dust! That man of destiny who is to smite the South and terminate the war appears in the Western horizon! Bramlette — the great Bramlette —— the great Governor of Kentucky--beholding the field afar off, and seeing how vainly the chieftains of the opposing armies essay to end the strife by victory — feels his vocation, known his hour for action is come, and proclaims to his Kentuckians the fact. Come, "C, Kentuckians, to the rescue!" cries he. Come, O, "ten thousand" of you, "for six months!" "I will lead you!" He adds, "Let us help to "finish this war and save our Government!" Of course, it is only in keeping with the modesty of true presiding that the Bramlette (Harris name) proposes to "Andy"to end the war, when everybody knows he can do it without assistance! Bramlette had hoped that he would not be needed — he did not went to eclipse the name and fame of the great Yankee leaders; he had fame enough for a man of such little vanity, (another type of greatness!) and he withheld his might for this generous motive, although he knew he could decide the contest in any "six months" that have intervened since the war. He has, moreover, been like a devout lover of the classics, faithful to the rule of the ancient poets, who did not introduce their gods until the great occasion when human beings had failed to decide the struggle and the balance hung at a poise, neither side being able to gain the preponderance. Just then it became the dignity and supernal power of the god to enter the arena and decide the fate of the day. And so comes in the great Bramlette. The god of Kentucky! The world pauses to take a long breath! Grant's glory is fled. Lee will find it useless to fight against the power that descends from high Olympus; and that great and bloody drama which the world has watched with such deep interest is suddenly to be concluded. When the final blow will fall-- the exact day thereof — is known only to the Kentucky divinity. His advent cannot be far off. Let us, in the meantime, like the old Romans, prepare ourselves to die as decently as possible!We think it was of Charles Mathews that the following story is told: Mrs. M. looked out of doors one dark, stormy night, and was asked by her husband "what sort of weather is it? " She replied that it was "quite windy." Then," said he, "throw out a peppermint lozenge, my dear, the weather has the choice!".
