Come! welcome Freedom's new-born day, Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Come! fling thy manacles away,

Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Call Wickliffe home to fast and pray, Stop Powell's mouth while yet you may, Invoke the shade of Henry Clay,

Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Thy fame is bright, thy limbs are strong,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Come! for thy lagging does thee wrong,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!
Join heart and hand the martyr throng,
Whom love of country bears along,
And give new heroes to thy song,

Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Prepare to break the negro's chain,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Shall West-Virginia call in vain?
Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Her eagles scream from hill to plain"LIBERTY" is the fierce refrain,

It baffles traitors back amain,

Kentucky! O Kentucky!

The Union's wounds shall heal again,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!

I see the blush upon thy cheek,

Kentucky! O Kentucky!
Though thou wast never over-meek;
Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Ah! hear! there cometh forth a shriek,
From hill to hill, from creek to creek,
Missouri calls on thee to speak,

Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Proud Labor should not pay a toll,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!
No slave should crook to thy control,
Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Write LINCOLN's fame upon thy scroll,
Better emancipate the whole,
Than crucify one negro's soul!

Kentucky! O Kentucky!

Methinks I hear a distant hum,

Kentucky! Ah! Kentucky!
It is the Union fife and drum,

Kentucky! Ah! Kentucky!

She speaks herself, and treason's dumb, Her brain and heart no longer numb, She feels at last, and now she'll come! Kentucky! Our Kentucky! WASHINGTON CITY, D. C., January 1, 1863.

"THE RED, WHITE, AND BLUE."

BY S. B. S., CO. F, ELEVENTH MICHIGAN INFANTRY. The following lines were suggested by a remark made by a little boy, whose parents reside near Bardstown, Ky., when our troops first made their appearance here. Discovering a beautiful rainbow suspended in the heavens, he ran to his mother, and exclaimed: "Mother, God is a Union man." His mother questioning him for his reason for thinking so, he replied that he had seen his flag, and it was "Red, White, and Blue." The traitor Archangel dared first to rebel,

And drew around him his traitorous crew; But the flag of the "Union" was straightway unfurled, With its glorious old "red, white, and blue;"

When loyalty gathered from heaven's domain, And brightened their armor anew ;

And the armies of heaven then marshalled their train
To fight for the "red, white, and blue."

The order went forth to the white-tented field,
To banish secession away;

And the fate of "Rebellion" was instantly sealed,
And "Union" again held the sway.
The arch-chief of traitors was sentenced to reign
O'er his minions-the misguided few-
And dwell amid darkness, where he never again
Could behold the "red, white, and blue."

The first great rebellion that history records,
Was crushed ere the dawn of its day;
And Satan, its leader, with all of his hordes,
Was banished from heaven away;

As we are assured, that "God speeds the right,"
As long as we're loyal and true

To the cause of our country, we'll never lose sight
Of our banner-" the red, white, and blue."

I herewith petition the "powers that be,"
To give Davis and his followers, all,
A deep grave reception-a home quite as free
As Satan had after his fall.

We're ready, all ready, so pilot us on,

We are wearied with "nothing to do;"
We are willing to fight till the last battle's won,
Or die by the "red, white, and blue."

-Louisville Journal.

ONE WORD.

Speak to us, to-day, O Father!
Our hearts are strangely stirred-
A Nation's life is hanging
On a yet unspoken word.

Long, by the hearthstone corner,
May the aged grandame sit,
And toil, with trembling fingers,
That another sock be knit-

Men may march and manoeuvre,
And camp on fields of death-
The iron saurians wheel and dart,
And thunder their fiery breath-
But one brave word is wanting-
The word whose tone should start
The pulses of men to flamelets

Thrilling through every heart!

O Father! trust your children!
If ever you found them fail,
'Twas but for lack of the one true word
That must to the end prevail.

Where funeral willows quiver
On the banks of the Mighty River,

'Twas seen what men may do-
Flame ahead, and flame to larboard!
(Aye, the Pit's Mouth burned blue!)
Not a craven thought was harbored-
'Twas hell to port and starboard,

But the Hearts of Oak went through!

They have shown what men may do,

They have proved how men may dieCount, who can, the fields they've pressed, Each face to the solemn sky!

Is it yet forgotten, of Shiloh

And the long outnumbered lines, How the blue frocks lay in winrows? How they died at the Seven Pines?

How they sank in the Varuna,

(Seven foes in flame around!)? How they went down with the Cumberland, Firing, cheering as they drowned?

Spirits, a hundred of thousands,

Eager, and bold, and true,

Gone to make good one brave, just word— Father, they died for you!

Died, in tempest of battle,

Died, in the cot's dull pain-
Let their ghosts be glad in heaven,
That they died—and not in vain!

Now, never fear lest the living

Should shrink at the sound, "Be Free!"They shall yet make up the million,

And another, if need there be !

But fail not, as thy trust is heaven,
To breathe the word shall wake
The soul and heart of a Nation-
Speak it, for Christ's dear sake!

Speak it, our earthly Father!
In the name of His and smile
At one more breath of the viper
Whose fangs shall crash on the file!

The Angel-Songs are forever,

The snake can hiss but his day-
Speak, O Shepherd of Peoples!
And fold earth's blessings for aye.

H.

-Hartford Press.

THE VOLUNTEER'S BURIAL.

BY PARK BENJAMIN.

'Tis eve; one brightly beaming star
Shines from the eastern heaven afar,
To light the footsteps of the brave,
Slow marching to a comrade's grave.

The northern wind has sunk to sleep;
The sweet South breathes, as, low and deep,
The martial clang is heard, the tread
Of those who bear the silent dead.

And whose the form, all stark and cold,
Thus ready for the loosened mould,
And stretched upon so rude a bier?
Thine, soldier, thine! the Volunteer.
Poor Volunteer! the shot, the blow,
Or swift disease hath laid him low;
And few his early loss deplore-
His battle fought, his journey o'er.
Alas! no wife's fond arms caressed,
His cheek no tender mother pressed,
No pitying soul was by his side,
As lonely in his tent he died.

He died-the Volunteer-at noon;
At evening came the small platoon
That soon will leave him to his rest,
With sods upon his manly breast.

Hark to their fire! his only knell-
More solemn than the passing bell;
For, ah! it tells a spirit flown,
Unshriven, to the dark unknown.
His deeds and fate shall fade away,
Forgotten since his dying day,
And never on the roll of Fame
Shall be inscribed his humble name.

Alas! like him, how many more
Lie cold upon Potomac's shore!
How many green unnoted graves
Are bordered by those placid waves!
Sleep, soldier, sleep! from sorrow free,
And sin and strife. 'Tis well with thee.
'Tis well though not a single tear
Laments the buried Volunteer!

-Evening Post.

THE PATRIOT'S SONG.

BY G. F. B.

Chieftains! lead us to the Rebel host,
Lead on to Richmond towers!
Who would not deem it a bliss to die
In such a cause as ours?
Lead on, for fearlessly we fight;
The UNION, 'tis a glorious cause of right.
Chieftains! our hearts beat high, in haste
To plunge the rebel heart!

Who could not glory in the deed

To drive them to death's mart? Come, let us for our country fight Because her glorious, heavenly cause is right.

Breathe on, ye souls of pride and strife, 'Tis death's immortal age!

To die, is but a change of life,

And heaven a starry stage.
Then with a bright and future hope,
The patriot shall in darkness never grope.

The trumpet shall from Malvern Hill
Proclaim in thunder tones!
How God-like heroes fought and died,
'Mid human blood and bones.
From Pittsburgh's bloody fields shall rise
Clouds of incense, to the admiring skies.

Bring forth the sweet Eolian harp,
From its Etrurian shades!
That it may chant the patriot's song,
In silver bowers and glades.
Yes! patriots' names shall live entwined-
In God's baptismal font, they live enshrined.
Yes! from Fair Oaks their names shall rise,
From Seven Pines they fly!

On many fields their corpses strewn,
Blessed patriots who die.

Let bards the dirge of patriots sing,
Throughout the world, let fame their glory ring.

A MOTHER'S STORY. Amid the throng that gathers where The mail dispenses joy and care, I saw a woeful women stand, A letter falling from her hand:

She spoke no word, she breathed no sigh;
Her bloodless cheek, her sad, fixed eye,
And pallid, quivering lips apart,
Showed hopeless grief had seized her heart.
I spoke a word of kindness cheers
The heavy heart, and heaven-sent tears
Refresh the eye dry sorrow sears.

"Ah! sir, my boy! my brave, bright boy!".
In broken voice, she said;
"My only son! my only joy!

My brave, bright boy is dead!".

"Sorrow is sacred!" and the eye
That looks on grief is seldom dry:
I listened to her piteous moan,
Then followed to her dwelling lone,
Where sheltered from the biting cold,
She thus her simple story told:

"My gran'father, sir, for freedom died,
On Eutaw's bloody plain;
My father left his youthful bride,
And fell at Lundy's Lane.

"And when my boy, with burning brow,
Told of the nation's shame-

How Sumter fell!-oh! how, sir, how
Could blood like mine be tame!

"I blessed him; and I bade him go-
Bade him our honor keep:

He proudly went to meet the foe;
Left me to pray and weep.

"In camp-on march-of picket round-
He did his equal share;

And still the call to battle found

My brave boy always there.

"And when the fleet was all prepared
To sail upon the main,

He all his comrades' feelings shared—
But fever scorched his brain!

"He told the general: 'He would ne'er
From toil or danger shrink,
But, though the waves he did not fear,
It chilled his heart to think

"How drear the flowerless grave must be,
Beneath the ocean's foam,

And that he knew 't would comfort me
To have him die at home.'

"They tell me that the general's eye
With tears did overflow:

GOD BLESS THE BRAVE MAN!—with a sigh,
He gave him leave to go.

"Quick down the vessel's side came he;
Joy seemed to kill his pain;
'Comrades!' he cried, 'I yet shall see
My mother's face again!'

"The boat came bounding o'er the tide;
He sprang upon the strand:

God's will be done!-my bright boy died,
His furlough in his hand!"

Ye, who this artless story read,

If Pity in your bosoms plead,

And "Heaven has blessed your store"

If broken-hearted woman, meek,
Can win your sympathy--go, seek

That childless widow's door!

HAPPY LAND OF CANAAN.

BY ONE OF THE FIFTY-SEVENTH OHIO.

Now we are in Camp Chase, and that is just the place, For the soldier boys to go and get a training,

So that when we go down there, where the seceders

are,

We can send them to the happy land of Canaan.
CHORUS-HO, ho, ho, fal-de-ral de-da,

O boys! there's a good time coming,

Oh! we'll never mind the weather,

But get over double trouble,

For we're bound for the happy land of
Canaan.

The Ohio Fifty-seventh, Colonel Mungen, can't be beat,
For he has got the courage and the training,
And when he does go out, the secessionists to rout,
He will send them to the happy land of Canaan.
CHORUS-HO, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

There's gallant Captain Rice, oh! he thinks himself so nice,

Because he company A is commanding,

And he will send the rebels (the nasty, dirty devils) Right into the happy land of Canaan.

CHORUS-HO, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

But there is Captain May, oh! he is on the way,
Down where the seceders are a-training,

And when he gets down there, where the seceders

are,

He will send them to the happy land of Canaan.
CHORUS-Ho, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

Company C is in the field, and will make the traitors vield,

Captain Mott that brave company is commanding, And when he gives them a round, he will make their flag come down,

Or send it to the happy land of Canaan.
CHORUS-HO, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

Captain Blystone is in command of a gallant little

band,

That will give old Jeffy's dogs a caning,
And when they take a hitch,

They will send them to the happy land of Canaan.
CHORUS-HO, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

Captain Doncyson's the man that will do all he can,
And he for the Union is a training,

He will take his little squad, and whip them all
And send them to the happy land of Canaan.
CHORUS-HO, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

There's another little band, that will make the rebels stand,

And gallant Captain Wilson is a-training,
And when they draw a bead on Jeffy's gallant steed,
They will send him to the happy land of Canaan.

CHORUS-Ho, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.
Faulhaber's got some boys, that will make a noise,
When their bullets on the rebels go to raining,
And if they don't look out, oh! he will rub them out,
And send them to the happy land of Canaan.

CHORUS-Ho, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

Captain Strayer's boys are some, and can whip them

ten to one,

And will make secession go to waning,
And they will cut a swell, and will send them all to
Or into the happy land of Canaan.

CHORUS-HO, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

Captain Kilkenny's a whale, when he gets under sail,
And his boys have no reason for complaining,
For he's got them under drill, the secessionists to kill,
And send them to the happy land of Canaan.

CHORUS-Ho, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

Captain Hardy, he comes in, with his little squad of

men,

And to fight with the rebels they are aiming,

And when they go to battle they will make the rebels rattle,

And run them to the happy land of Canaan.

CHORUS-HO, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

And to conclude my song, I think I've done no wrong, And I hope that it will prove entertaining,

And we will cut some figures, when we go among the niggers,

'Way down in the happy land of Canaan.

CHORUS-HO, ho, ho, fal-de-ral-de-da, etc.

THE CRUISE OF THE. SANTIAGO DE CUBA.

'Tis of the Santiago

That I am going to tell,

Whose fame has rung throughout our land And Britain, too, as well;

She's the pride of her commander,

And of the crew their boast,

And a terror to the enemy

Along our southern coast.

'Twas in the month November,
In eighteen-sixty-one,
She started from the Battery

With the rising of the sun,

And steaming through the Narrows,
Far out upon the deep,
Her head was turned to south'ard,
A harvest rich to reap.

We were over four months cruising,
Without a single prize,
When on the twenty-first of March
"Sail oh!" the lookout cries,
Up from below now quickly poured,
The Santiago's crew,

While o'er the waves, with dashing speed,
Our gallant steamer flew.

"A steamer, sir," the lookout cried,

"I plainly see the smoke "

If they but dared the crew would with
A shout the echoes woke :
But here let it be kept in mind,
That on a man-of-war
There's discipline to govern us
Unknown to folks on shore.

A load of cotton soon was seen
Upon the steamer's deck;
But ere the night had well set in
The Delta was a wreck;
Not heaving-to, we fired at her,
They ran her hard aground,
We fired a shell, set her on fire,
And our first prize was found.
Next-month of April, twenty-third-
When the saucy Santiago
Was on the British waters, off
The island of Abaco,

A little schooner hove in sight-
The one we wished to see-
So we ere long had made a prize
Of rebel Charleston Bee.

There was a little steamer bold,
That ofttimes with success
Had carried goods of various kinds
To aid the South's distress,
Oft arms and ammunition,

To carry on the war,

Would by this craft in Charleston Bay
Be safely placed on shore.

'Twas on such sly excursion
Their pride received a fall,
The Santiago captured her
Before "Hole in the Wall;"
No doubt in every Southern port
It sounded like a knell,

When they heard the news that they had lost
The steamer Isabel.

Where was the schooner Mersey, with
The balance of the cargo?

For she must also fall a prey

To the bold Santiago.

Two days went by; "Sail oh!" was heard,

We instantly gave chase,

Came up with her, and here we had
The Mersey for the race.

Another schooner hove in sight

Upon the thirty-first,

And 'twas not long ere those on board
The Santiago cursed.

But what cared we for rebels' curse,
Our cause we knew was just;
We're battling in our country's cause,
In Providence our trust.

While coming slowly down the coast
On twenty-seventh of May,
When the Lucy Holmes, of Charleston,
Was standing in our way,

We sent a prize-crew with her to
The city of New-York,

Where they no doubt her cargo wished
For making cotton-work.

Though England still may boast her speed
In vessels worked by steam,

If they think to beat the Yankees,
They'll find that they but dream;
They built an iron steamer

For the rebellious States-
They thought the way was open then,
But we had closed the gates.

'Twas August third, and Sunday noon,
This steamer came in sight;
We put our engine to the test
To catch her in daylight.

"But what have we to fear ?" said they,
"That Yankee cannot catch us;
We easy run of thirteen knots,

And less than that can't match us!"

Their boast was vain, and there was one
On board who knew our speed,
Cried: "That's the Santiago-
Our cruise is up, indeed !"

We thundered several shots at her,

Which soon made her heave to, Come up with her, we soon on board Had sent a full prize-crew.

They called her the Columbia,

The worst thing they could do, For as the name belonged to us,

We claimed the steamer, too; She'd Armstrong guns, intended for A battery on shore,

But as secesh did not get them,
We'll let them hear their roar!

I've yet one more to mention,
Lavinia she by name,
She had run out past the blockade,
But we soon blocked her game;
She was on her way to Nassau,

And our captain thought it best To save her from all further harm, And send her to Key West.

Soon after this a steamer came,
It was the Magnolia,
With orders for us to proceed
After the Oreto;

But they let her in at Mobile,

Or her we should have caught, And, though inferior in strength, Our captain would have fought.

To our engineer's exertions

Great praise we know is due,
And he has thanks, the heartiest, from
This steamer's grateful crew;
'Twas by his quiet knowledge
And energetic will

We caught our wealthiest prizes—
And hope to catch more still.

Our captain is as good a man
As ever trod a plank;

He's never wilfully abused

A man beneath his rank;
He's honored by his enemies;
Though they are very few;
Far better still, he's loved by all
The Santiago's crew.

I hope that I've offended none
On land or on the main ;

If not, perhaps some future time
I'll try my hand again.

But while there's fighting to be done
For our Red, White, and Blue,
You always can depend upon
The Santiago's crew.

J. L. K.

-Sunday Mercury.

CARPET CLOTHING.-Savannah is up and doing in behalf of our suffering soldiers in Virginia. A public meeting has been held, and prompt measures taken to secure at once clothing for the army. Messrs. W. H. Wiltberger & Co., proprietors of the Pulaski House, have offered the entire stock of carpets of their establishment to be converted into covering for the soldiers. Some idea of the munificence of the donation may be formed when we state that it comprises the carpeting of one hundred and twenty rooms, and when cut up will make over five hundred comfortable and good-sized blankets.-Mobile Tribune, October 7. VOL. VI.-POETRY 2

A LOYAL PIGEON.-The following is a true and singularly remarkable story of a pigeon captured by Mr. Tinker, a teamster of the Forty-second New-York volunteers, while the regiment was encamped at Kalorama Heights, Va. Mr. Tinker made a pet of him, and kept him in camp until they started for Poolesville. Strange to say, the pigeon followed on with the train, occasionally flying away at a great distance, but always returning, and, when weary, would alight on some wagon of the train.

At night he was sure to come home, and, watching his opportunity, would select a position, and quietly go to roost in Tinker's wagon.

Many of the men in the regiment took a fancy to him, and he soon became a general favorite. From Poolesville he followed to Washington, and down to the dock, where Tinker took him on board the steamer; so he went to Fortress Monroe, thence to Yorktown, where he was accustomed to make flights over and beyond the enemy's works, but was always sure to return at evening, to roost and receive his food in Tinker's wagon. From thence he went all through the Peninsular campaign, afterwards to Antietam, and Harper's Ferry, witnessing all the battles fought by his regiment.

By this time he had gained so much favor, that a friend offered twenty-five dollars to purchase him, but Tinker would not sell him at any price, and soon after sent him home as a present to some friend. It might be interesting to trace the future movements of this remarkable specimen of the feathered tribe, but none will doubt his instinctive loyalty, and attachment to the old Tammany regiment.

Any of the brave Forty-Second boys who read this history of their favorite, will attest the truth of these statements, and be pleased to see him honored by this history of his wanderings. Such devotion to the Stars and Stripes is, we believe, a fair illustration of the character of the Tammany regiment in the field, and worthy of imitation by those who have more than instinct to guide them.

RICHMOND, VA., Oct. 6th.-Two gentlemen who recently made their escape from Accomac, and have arrived in this city, represent that the state of affairs in The that county amounts almost to a reign of terror. Yankee General, Lockwood, who commands that department, is already practically enforcing Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, by issuing "free papers to slaves. In a single day, last week, he thus liberated two hundred and fifty, and retained them in the com munity, instead of sending them North, as the Yankee Generals elsewhere have done. Of course, their masters are charged with their support without the benefit of their services. The gentlemen from whom we obtain this information crossed the Chesapeake in an open row-boat, and then made their way to Richmond by land.-Richmond Whig, October 6.

A REVIEW AT FORT SUMTER.- Last Friday was a bright and balmy October day, and General Ripley by appointment went down to review the garrison at Fort Sumter, consisting of the First regiment of SouthCarolina artillery. A large number of ladies were present. The General looked as fine as a fiddle, and performed his part with style and expedition. The splendid corps at the post appeared to great advantage before their original and honored commander. The excellent band added much to the occasion. After the exercises on the parade a ten-inch columbiad was fired