Here one reads that another is wooing his lady, And he clenches his fists with ferocious scowls; Pat there, has his sheet, telling how little Teddy And the other pigs grow, bless their dear little souls. But there stands one with an anxious face, Is there none for me? almost breathless he speaks, No, that was the last; and he turns away, Ashamed of the tears on his sunburnt cheeks. Would you deem a man less noble and brave, The soldiers afar from their homes and their friends, For the life which, for our country, they lead. O, write to them often! our brave soldier boys! Wives, mothers, and sisters, and sweethearts dear! Write cheering and hopeful, of love, and the joys That await them again when peace shall reign here. A letter from home hath a magic spell, To make them forget, for a time, all care, In the thought that loved ones at home wish them well, And remember them often in thought and in prayer. ANONYMOUS. LISTEN. AFTER THE BATTLE OF GREEN BRIAR. VA. OCTOBER 3D, '61. LISTEN! did ye not hear that sound Echoing from afar. Faintly o'er the distant hills Like some funeral car? Did ye not hear that mournful cry That agonizing prayer, Which from many a burdened heart Listen! that same sad, mournful cry, Extends its cries from shore to shore, With anguish rends the air! For on yon blood-stained field With upturned face and pleading look Listen! from yon battalions height Where lie the gasping multitude Of vanquished heroes slain! That prayer doth rise in louder strains With accents still more deep! It is a plea for Heaven to aid Listen! along the garden walks A maiden treads the vine clad bower A paper in her hand she holds Which tells of victories won, and lost, Listen! she's reading the list of those Of those who in their country's cause But lo! her brother's name she spies Ere half the list is read; Her brother's name-Great God! is there, Down with the ghastly dead! Listen! a cry of deep despair, A mournful cry of pain She utters, while in tears she shrieks: "My brother too, is slain !" And then she glances once again Upon the precious name, Alas! there can be no mistake, Her brother too, is slain! Listen! how many, many groans Are borne upon the air, From hearts that's tasted of the cup Of bitterest despair! Great God! how long must we behold Such bloody times as these? تم How long ere Truth shall reign o'er all, And Freedom kiss the breeze? J. R. PENHOLLOW. MOTHER IS THE BATTLE OVER? BATTLE OF BUFFALO HILL, KY., OCTOBER 3D, '61. "MOTHER, is the battle over? Thousands have been slain, they say, "Mother, dear, you're always sighing "Yes, my boy, your noble father Is one numbered with the slain ; SAWYER. "ONLY A PRIVATE KILLED.” REBEL ATTACK ON SANTA ROSA ISLAND, FLA. “WE'VE had a fight," a captain said, When again was hushed the martial din, And back the foe had fled, They brought the private's body in; I went to see the dead. For I could not think the rebel foe, Though under curse and ban, A minie ball had broke his thigh, They pinned him to the ground. The last was through the pulseless breast, |