Gen. Sheridan

The light of another star of that bright galaxy of soldier heros, who led our boys in blue succe8sfully through the war of the Rebellion, bas gone out. Another face upon which soldier and citizen alike loved to gaze, is bidden forever from moital sight. Gen. Philip H. Sheridan, Commander of the armies of the United States, the idol of bis comrades, the hero of Winchester and Cedar Creek, is no more. The flag he fought under eo long and so well is heavy with the colore of mourning in memory of one of its most gallant defenderé. The universally expressed regret at the death of "little Phil" is but the spontaneous testimonial of a grateful nation to his character, his worth, his brilliant record in the service of his country. Entering the ariny as a lieutenant, by his indomitable will, his dogged perseverance, his thorough knowledge of military tactics, his daring personal bravery, and his magnetic popularity among those around him, he became successively captain, colonel, brigadiergeneral, major-general, lieutenantgeneral, and finally commauder of the army. His record as a succes6ful leader during the war was the result of the dash and enery which characterized his movements. Whenever he struck, it was with a whirl and a rush that carried him over every obstacle. His timely arrival frora ' Winchester, twenty miles away," at Cedar Creek where he turned the panic-stricken soldiere back into their ranks, where he rode down the lines on his famous charger white with foam, where he cheered and urged theni to renew the conflict by bis welcome presente, where, bat in hand, spurring his horse again to the charge, he led a once beaten army to a complete and signal victory, all was cbaracteristic of the man, and stamped him as one of the ablest generáis of the war, and a man who dared to lead, when occasion required it. With Grant, Hancock, McClellan and Garfield, he has gone to join the great army of the beyond, leaving bebind an imperishable record, and a memory enshrined in the hearts of a grateful people, by whom he will ever be regarded as the model soldier, the honored citizen. Thekk is nothing finer or more suggestive in recent magazine literature than Kennan's description of meeting political exiles in Siberia. Among them are artists, students, and young omen, all of great intelligence and all yearning for the good of mankind. The political exiles they met first were familiar with the writings of Shakspeare, Mili, Spencer, Backle, Balfour Stewart, Heine, Hegel, Lange, Irving, Cooper, Longfellow, Bret Harte, and Harriet Beecher Stowe. They knew something of American politics. The very flower of Russia is banished to Siberia because of high aspirations. The long evenings which Mr. Kennan and Mr. Frost spent with these gifted young Russians in their huts in Semipalatinsk must have been delightful to the exiles as to the visitors. They gained a glimpse of America. Each were entertained and instructed. The exiles 6ang in chorus some plaintive Russian melodies, and Messrs. Kennan and Frost, not to be outdone, gave them a sample of our college songs, our war songs, and negro melodies. The Argus keeps mumbling about the wool tariff. It is al most as bad as old John Randolph who, it is said, hated the tariff on wool so bitterly that he wonld go a mile to kick a sheep.