The Newtown bee., 1878-06-27
Ed Tor of hP Fer .:

1 Your Palestine correspondent. We" | not long since made inquiry after us, Ircmarking that the last heard of us VIC
 were boring into the bowels of the earth. l That rcmiuds us of a speculative fela- live of ours, who dug an imaginary hole
 entirely through the center of the earth
 at the equator, crossing "Syms' Hole"
 at right angles, and dropped huge stone
 down the oriticc, and then with his face
 wrought up into wise interrogation point, after he manner of scientists,
 asked his friends where the stone had gone. IL was q profound cOnundrunl,
 and they gave it up, though some inno- gently thought it went in the hole 9th
 CTS of q philosophical turn of mind.
 thought il lodged around the corner of
 Syms Hole and went up to the North pole, where it lies, glittering bead, as
 a beacon to Arctic explorers. But they
 of Mt. Nebo. who keep an eye on tho pole, and note what is passing there, be-
 lieve no such thing. They aver that it
 never came out of that end of the globe.
 Our friends proposition was that the
 stone thus dropped would approach the
 central point of the earth with incress- | ing velocity, and shoot quicklyby the center of gravity, and then diminish in velocity as it progressed beyond the ceii- ter, until the attraction of grayitation overcame the force it acquired ill fall- ing and then fall backward again, and again acquire force and pass the center, and move on till gravity again ovcrcame 1 its force, and fall back; and thus go back and forth in the hole, vibrating | like d pendulum, each vibration being 1 less, and its force diminishing until it would finally stop at the exact center of | gravity, and there hang, like Mohamets
 coffin, suspended on nothing-a huge;
 indigestable powder in the bowels of
 the earth, or rather in the pit of tho
 earths stomach. Whether this propo- sition was original with our relative we
 doubt; but ii was characteristic of the
 family, and we forgave him. Whether
 he ever took up the hole we do not know. If he did not we want Edison to
 utilize it and put a photograph through | it, with crank to grind out messages | to our antipodes. Then we can con- verse with the long-queued Celestials ri-
 rd rOCe, and they of the golden gates of 1 the Pacific, who are troubled with too much "John,' can tell him to stay in
 the Flowcry Kingdom till they call for him. Should the powder be wedged in the hole in the way of the phonograph,
 and choke up the passage to the under world, as a cork lodged in the thoraX of
 a bottle 0bstructs communication there
 with, all MT. Edison has to do is to de spatch phonogram to Mt Nebo We will have it drawn outwith the Prophets corkscrew
 . We thought of other and quite differ ent matters when writing tho foregoing. | We often talk of one thing and think of another. Our thoughts were on the
 boys in blue, now sleeping their last,
 undisturbed sleep, under the green turf | ill the thousand green vallies, and on l the sunny hill-Sides of our land, on 1 whose graves we have just been scatter 1 ing floral tokens of affectionate reIaen- brance, moistening the flowers with our grateful tears. Our thoughts were ] drawn out to one boy in blue particular i ly, who was near to us, who went out at
 the call of his imperiled country to raise
 an arm in it's defence; noble specimen | of young manhood, of splendid physical | proportions, of good mental powers, and
 character beyond reproacl. When he
 was about starting for the front we took
 him by the hand and bade him goodbye
 and as a last word said, "Giye it to them, Andrew !" Ii was common then. ] it will be remembered, for brave home | patriots to pat the brave soldier boys on l their broad young shoulders and say, " Go boys" We cannot forget the de-
 termined sparkle in his intelligent eve as he replied, indicating his determina- tion to do or die when his time of trial ] came He went. We never saw him
 alter. When the two angry clouds of battle rolled together on the field of
 Charlottesville, where brother met
 brother in deadly strife, he went down
 in the smoke of tlie conflict. When the
 battle-clouds had spent their fury, and
 rolled away, and the roar of conflict had
 ceased, he lay on the field wounded and i bleeding his young life ebbing out. with none but his enemies and the dead and
 dying around him. When night came
 on he lay stark and cold on the field. his pale face turned towards the pitying
 stars. He died on the bIood-crimsoned
 field, under the dark pall of the night,
 far from home, with no friend near. No
 soothing word of mother or sister, or
 even eOInrade in arms greeted his ear,
 no sound but the pitiful moan of the dy- ing. No friend laid him away to his h- nal rest. No friend knows where he
 was laid. He sleeps in an unmarked
 grave in Virginia's soil. And the other
 day, when memorial offerings were made
 to the dead heroes, no flowers could be
 placed on his grave. But he has becuE,le