Litchfield enquirer., 1871-06-29

the better for the young Patrick. I have no fear for the Anglo Saxon race, even of its New England type, should the uniyer. sal world enter the course. 7
 FREDERICK BUHI. 2
 1@ The Whispering Gallery" of the last Atlantic contains letter from Dickens to Prof. Felton, from which we make the following extract: ''
 You know H-'s Book, I daresay. An! saw scene of mingled comicality and se riousness at his funeral some weeks ago, which has choked me at dinner time ever since. O. and I went as mourners; and as H. lived, poor fellow, five miles out of town, I drove G. down. It was such a day as hope, for the credit of nature, is seldom seen in any parts but these,- mud. dy, foggy, wet, dark, cold, and unutterably wretched in every possible respect. Now, C- has enormous whiskers, which strag- gle all down his throat in such weather, and stick cut in front of him, like a par tially unravelled birds. nest; so that he looks queer enough at the best, but when he is very wet, and in state between jolli- ty (he is always very jolly with mel and the deepest gravity (going to funeral, you know), it is utterly impossible to resist him; especially as he makes the strangest remarks the mind of man can conceive, without any intention of being funny, but rather meaning to be philosophical. I his comicality all the way; but when he long black hat band by an undertaken (who, 2 ho vo with foo hia nvo1- for he had known H-many years-was "a character, and he would like to sketch him." thought should have been ob- liged to go away. However, we went into a little parlor where the funeral party was, and God knows it was miserable enough. for the widow and children were crying bitterly in one corner, and the other mourn ers-mere people of ceremony, who cared no more for the dead man than the hearse did-were talking quite coolly and careless ly together in another; and the contrast was as painful and distressing as anything I ever saw. There was an independent clergyman present, with his bands on and a Bible under his arm, who, as soon as we were seated, addressed C-thus, in loud emphatic voice: s'Mr. .C-,have you seen paragraph respecting our departed friend, which has gone the round of the morning papers?' "Yes, sir" says C-,stI have,' looking very hard at me the while, for he had told me with some pride coming down that 1t was his composition. ''Oh!" said the clergyman, ''Then you will agree with me, MT. o., that it is not only an insult to me, who am the servant of the Almighty, but an insult to the Almighty, whose ser want am" "How's that sir?' says C.. 'It is stated, Mir. G.. in that paragraph says the minister. ''that when MT. H. failed in business as bookseller, he was persuaded by ne to try the pulpit, which is false, incorrect, unchristian, in manner blasphemous, and in all respects contemp- tible. Let us pray" With which, my dear Felton, and5in the same breath, I give you my word, he knelt down, as we all did, and began very miserable tumble of an extemporary prayer. was really penetra- ted with sorrow for the family, but when O-(upon Ais knees, and sobbing for the loss of an old friend) whispered me, ''that if that wasn't 8 clergyman, and it wasn't 8 funeral, he'd have punched his head" I felt as if nothing but convulsions could possibly relieve me. ,sHd ..e..szy a..E aa
 The Chicago Times, the leading demo- cratic journal in the northwestern states, writes as follows about the rebel leaders:
 Somebody takes the trouble to telegraph from Georgia that Alexander H. Stephens has again been ventilating his views. What of it? There is no law in the country to prevent Jeff Davis, Stephens. or any oth. CT man from making g fool of himself. And why prohibit persons from making fools of themselves when it is the only source of comfort the poor devils have in this world? Jeff. Davis, Stephens and the rest of the rebel crew who are still in the flesh are as dead every way as John Ran. dolph's phosphorescent mackerel. They resemble that decayed piscatory specimen also in many other respects. They never shine without stinking. They are, of course, unqualifi jed nnissnces; but it is probably only death or the devil that will be able to abate them. Like many other decayed specimens of political nastiness, they will go out one of these days with bad smell; until then, the best that can be done is to keep to the windward of them"
 LITOHFIELD SOLDIERS MONTT-