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We have waited for some time to see a denial of the report that Mr. G. B. Lamar, of Savannah, had taken the oath of allegiance. Instead of its being denied, however, it is confirmed. Mr. Lamar has not only taken the oath, but finds it very easy and agreeable to take. All he has to do is to shut his eyes, open his mouth, and old Father Longlegs, at Washington, slips down in jelly. With a little decoction of cotton seed to take out the taste, Lamar finds it not bad thing to take, after all. In fact, he seems to like it; he smacks his lips and advises one of his friends to try it. The venerable fox, having parted with his caudal appendage, is now perambulating the ramparts of Savannah, exhibiting a cut of the latest fashion to the outside be holders. He invites them to follow his example. It is believed that Sherman will now dispense with the landward guns on the fortifications of Savannah, and, instead thereof, display the butt end of Lamar to the admiration and imitation of Georgia. A Southern contemporary, commenting on the conduct of Mr. Lamar, exclaims; " Oh, man! man! what a humbug thou art!" A most refreshing piece of plain talk. But we say not that. We have a rustic confidingness in the genus homo which renders us reluctant to identify it with the genus humbug. We fell inclined especially to put our trust in princes and politicians, in men of large property and great pretensions. Your "solid men," of course, cannot be hollow. It distresses us that this Lamar should disturb our rustic faith and childlike simplicity. Why, he is the man, is he not?--who tried to revive the Slave Trade, who was among the first suitors of the nymph, Secessia, and took her to wife, for better, for worse, swearing — With all my worldly goods, ships and cotton bales, I do thee crow! And now upon the first intimation that she is dead, before the screws are well in her coffin, or the psalm sung at her funeral, he hurries off. to the apron strings of another woman, the mother of the girl he ran away with, and takes an oath of eternal love and fidelity. Oh! thou gay deceiver! How can we ever believe in man again? Who shall ever restore to us our lost faith in the fine gold of humanity. It is evident that Tecumseh Sherman, in addition to his other accomplishments, is no mean professor in the so called science of animal magnetism. He proceeds to Savannah, makes a few passes at his subjects, puts them en rapport forthwith, so that they see what he sees, taste what he tastes, and even think what he thinks. He manipulates this Lamar, and makes him think that old woman, whose daughter he persuaded to cope, is a charming young virgin; that the blood upon the wrinkled face of the bag is the bloom of the rose, that the striped bunting of tyranny is a gorgeous bridal dress, glittering all over with real diamonds. He puts into his mouth a bitter, nauseating oath, enough to turn the stomach of a swine, and Lamar vows it is nectar, and invites his friends to step up and take a drink. And all this is affected by metallic attraction. Sherman only puts a little piece of gold in the subject's hand, and directs him to look fixedly at it, without permitting his attention to be distracted by anything else. It is an infallible process, and anybody who submits to it is bound to dream dreams and see visions. But when Mr. Lamar awakes from his slumber he will make some discoveries which will not much promote his peace of mind. The nymph Secessia is not dead. On the contrary, she is rising from her bed of pain and sadness with rejuvenated youth and beauty. The old woman he has sworn to love, honor and obey, will bring him only a dowry of sharp fangs, long nails and bitter curses. She will not permit him long to enjoy the soft repose of his cotton mattress. She will pull it out from under him, and kick him out from bed and board. He will have the taste of that oath in his mouth all his life. He will realize, to his last hour, that keenest pang of such minds; "The wicked have digged a pit and have fallen into the midst of it themselves."
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