20,000 stand of small arms and, in short, the enemy's entire
equipment.

_Resolved_, That for this unexampled victory the President be requested
to designate a day of thanksgiving and public celebration of religious
rites in the various churches.

_Resolved_, That he be requested, in further commemoration of the great
event, and in reward of the gallant spirits whose deeds have added such
imperishable lustre to the American arms, to appoint, with the advice
and consent of the Senate, the following officer:

One major-general.

_Statement of Mr. Hannibal Alcazar Peyton, of Jayhawk, Kentucky._

Dat wus a almighty dark night, sho', and dese yere ole eyes aint wuf
shuks, but I's got a year like a sque'l, an' w'en I cotch de mummer o'
v'ices I knowed dat gang b'long on de far side o' de ribber. So I jes'
runs in de house an' wakes Marse Doke an' tells him: "Skin outer dis fo'
yo' life!" An' de Lo'd bress my soul! ef dat man didn' go right fru de
winder in his shir' tail an' break for to cross de mule patch! An' dem
twenty-free hunerd mules dey jes' t'nk it is de debble hese'f wid de
brandin' iron, an' dey bu'st outen dat patch like a yarthquake, an' pile
inter de upper ford road, an' flash down it five deep, an' it full o'
Con-fed'rates from en' to en'!...

THE WIDOWER TURMORE

The circumstances under which Joram Turmore became a widower have never
been popularly understood. I know them, naturally, for I am Joram
Turmore; and my wife, the late Elizabeth Mary Turmore, is by no means
ignorant of them; but although she doubtless relates them, yet they
remain a secret, for not a soul has ever believed her.

When I married Elizabeth Mary Johnin she was very wealthy, otherwise I
could hardly have afforded to marry, for I had not a cent, and Heaven
had not put into my heart any intention to earn one. I held the
Professorship of Cats in the University of Graymaulkin, and scholastic
pursuits had unfitted me for the heat and burden of business or labor.
Moreover, I could not forget that I was a Turmore--a member of a family
whose motto from the time of William of Normandy has been _Laborare est
errare_. The only known infraction of the sacred family tradition
occurred when Sir Aldebaran Turmore de Peters-Turmore, an illustrious
master burglar of the seventeenth century, personally assisted at a
difficult operation undertaken by some of his workmen. That blot upon
our escutcheon cannot be contemplated without the mo