This faded relic of gentility - or, rather, this washed-out relic, for every tint of that description is gone - was brought to the station-house yesterday, in the arms of Officers Marsh and Ball, in a state of beastly intoxication. She cursed the Union and lauded the Confederacy for half an hour, and then she cast up part of her dinner; during the succeeding half hour, or perhaps it might have been three-quarters, she continued to curse the Federal Union and belch fuming and offensive blessings upon the Southern Confederacy, and then she cast up the balance of her dinner. She seemed much relieved. She so expressed herself. She observed to the prison-keeper, and casually to such as were standing around, although strangers to her, that she didn't care a d--n. She said it in that tone of quiet cheerfulness and contentment, which marks the troubled spirit at peace again after its stormy season of unrest. So they tackled her once more, and jammed her into the "dark cell," and locked her up. To such of her friends as gentle love for her may inspire with agonized suspense on her account, we would say: Banish your foreboding fears, for she's safe.
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