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likely to be refused. The prospects of the Tribune attaches look brilliant for the war.--If my health continues good and my constitution strong I expect to die somewhere in the Confederacy of old age. I long since bade farewell to the North, to freedom and everything desirable in existence. I learn sundry obituaries have been written of your humble servant. They are very well times, for I am alive only by a figure of speech.--I am deader than the Ptolomies, or the Know Nothing party, or Gen. Scott, although my tombstone has not been cut. If my best friend (if I enjoy any such anomalous relation,) were to see me here he would not known me. Indeed, I do not know myself. I look like a felonious mendicant; and in France would be sent to the galleys on suspicion that I was an escaped convict. No one can divine what a metamorphosis a gentleman can undergo after half a year's confinement in the Confederacy. It is something marvellous. My health continues very good. I pres