« AnteriorContinuar »
But, aa testing the new birth, lurked there within
Full of a masked deceit—
A most villainous cheat.
Insolent and proud, he drew tne red blade,
To turn aback the world On the track of the ages of progress she'd made,
With the old banner furled.
"Then round the old flag let's rally again"—
Rang through the whole land, "Though billions were lost and millions were slain,
The great caws* U shall stand.''
A continent and more—there's freedom to lose—
The present requires it— The great Future demands and freemen must choose
As the ages invoke it.
Lo! thousands sprang forth from valley and plain,
And our Robecrans was there —
His deeds also are there.
Hail! then, the great chief whose victories tell
What the hero has done—
To acknowledge that One,
TO THE ARMY OF THE CUMBERLAND.
Devoted band! baptized anew in blood,
The nation knew you! when ye stood the shield
Before your comrade braves, whose doom was sealed
'Mid all the horrors of red Shiloh's field;
Hopeless till you their saviours came, and burst
As an avenging fate upon the foe.
It marked you well, and treason felt the blow;
And watching breathlessly it saw you go
To dare and do what only heroes durst
In that death-storm on Murfreesboro's plains,
When Treason's blood ran cold through all her veins,
And in the nation's heart, while swelled the strains
Of Victory, you gained your place—the first.
Again, brave souls, most glorious when most tried,
THE SWAMP ANGEL.
"The large Parrott gun used in bombarding Charleston from the marshes of James Island Is called the Swamp Angel."—Soldier's Letter.
Down in the land of rebel Dixie,
She's for Freedom,
At night this angel raiseth her voice,
And her ory is " woe," and not " rejoice."
She sendeth far her meteor shell,
And it soareth up as if to dwell
With the twinkling stars in the fadeless blue;
There poiseth itself for the mighty blow,
Then downward shoots like a bolt from God:
Crushes the dwelling and crimsons the sod!
Fire leaps out from its iron heart,
Rives the defences of treason apart,
Till ruin spreads her sulphur pall
O'er shattered tower and crumbling wall;
And fearful crowds from the city fly,
Seeing the day of her doom is nigh!
0 ye who herd with traitors I—say,
Is this the dawn of that promised day
Your poets sung and your prophets told?
Is this age of iron your age of gold?
For this did ye rouse the Southern hate,
To rend the Union strong and great?
And build on the low Palmetto's shore
An empire proud for evermore—
And Bhut in the face of the North your door 1
Hear ye in the Angel the Northern call,
"Freemen must share with you the land I
"By you were words of treason spoken,
Hear truth by Gospel trumpet blown—
"The avenging Angel rides the blast—
T. N. J.
Centrevtlle, Va., Augtat 25.—Captain Ned Gillinglingham, of company B, Thirteenth New-York cavalry, with an escort of eight sergeants, whilst going from camp near Centreville as bearer of despatches to Washington, on the twenty-third instant, was met on the road near Allandalc, about two o'clock P.m., by a detachment of the Second Massachusetts cavalry, the Sergeant of the latter asking Captain Gillingham if they need apprehend any danger, to which Captain Gillingham replied: "So far, we have not met with any obstruction." Captain Gillingham had scarcely gone over four hundred yards, when he was met by a party of Mosby's cavalry, consisting of about one hundred men, by whom he was ordered, under fire, to "halt." Captain Gillingham, taking them for our own troops, (as they were dressed similar to his own men,) replied, "Hold up firing—you are fools—you are firing on Government troops," to which the captain of said troops replied: "Surrender there, you
Yankee ." Captain Gillingham replied he could
not see the joke. Then, turning to Sergeant Long, Orderly of company B, and to Sergeant Burnham, ordered them to draw their sabres and follow him. A general conflict ensued, in which sabres and pistols were freely used, resulting in the wounding of Orderly Sergeant Long and Sergeant Zeagle, both of company B, who, with four other sergeants, were all taken prisoners.
Captain Ned Gillingham and Sergeant Burnham effected their escape, the former having been wounded in the arm, and the latter in the hip, as well as having their horses shot. Obtaining horses on the road, they reached Washington about six o'clock P.m.
Captain Gillingham is a man highly esteemed by both his officers and men, and was warmly welcomed back to camp, to which he returned the following day.
THE 8HELLINQ OF CHATTANOOGA.
One of the most impressive scenes we have ever witnessed, occurred in the Presbyterian church on yesterday. The services were being held by the Rev. Dr. Palmer, of New-Orleans, and the pews and aisles were crowded with officers and soldiers, private citizens, ladies and children. A prayer had been said, and one of the hymns sung. The organist was absent, "and I will be thankful," continued the minister, "if some one in the congregation will raise the tune." The tune was raised, the whole congregation joined in singing, as in days gone by; the sacred notes, in humble melody from the house of God, swelling their holy tribute to his glory, and dying away at last like the echoes of departed days. The second, or what is known as the long prayer, was begun, when out upon the calm, still air, there came an alien sound—the sullen voice of a hostile gun—ringing from the north bank of the river, and echoing back and back among the faroff glens of Lookout Peak. It was sudden —it took every one by surprise; for few, if any, expected the approach of an enemy. The day was one of fasting and prayer; the public mind was upon its worship. Its serenity had not been crossed by a shadow, and it was not until another and another of these unchristian accents trembled in the air, and hied themselves away to the hills, that it was generally realized that the enemy were shelling the town. Without a word of warning, in the midst of church services, while many thousands of men and women thronged the several places of public worship, the basest of human foemen had begun an attack upon a city crowded with hospi
tals and refugees from the bloody pathway of their march, and in nowise essential to a direct assault There was a little bustle and disturbance in the gallerries; the noise in the streets became more distinct and louder; near the doors several persons, who had other duties, military or domestic, to look to, hastily withdrew. The mass of the congregation, however, remained in their places; and the man of God continued his prayer. It was impressive in the extreme. There he stood, this exile preacher from the far South, with eyes and hands raised to heaven, not a muscle or expression changed, not a note altered, not a sign of confusion, excitement, or alarm; naught but the calm, Christian face uplifted, and full of the unconsciousness to all save its devotions, which beams from the soul of true piety. Not only the occasion, but the prayer, was solemnly, eloquently impressive. The reverend Doctor prayed, and his heart was in his prayer—it was the long prayer, and he did not shorten it; he prayed it to the end, and the cannon did not drown it from those who listened, as they could not drown it from the ear of God. He closed, and then, without panic or consternation, although excited and confused, the dense crowd separated, while shells were falling on the right and left. All honor to this noble preacher, and to those brave women and children.—Chattanooga Sebel, August 22.
Victory Or Annihilation.—Doctor Elliot, the Bishop of Georgia, in a late sermon preached in Savannah, exhibits the alternative before ns, in a few sentences pregnant with all the fire of a prophet and a patriot. These are, indeed, words that burn:
"Forward, my hearers, with our shields locked and our trust in God, is our only movement now. It is too late even to go backward. We might have gone backward a year ago, when our armies were victoriously thundering at the gates of Washington, and were keeping at successful bay the Hessians of the West, had we been content to bear humiliation for ourselves and degradation for our children. But even that is no longer left us. It is now victory or unconditional submission ; submission, not to the conservative and Christian people of the North, but to a party of infidel fanatics, with an army of needy and greedy soldiers at their backs. Who shall be able to restrain them in their hour of victory f When that moment approaches, when the danger shall seem to be over and the spoils are ready to be divided, every outlaw will rush to fill their ranks, every adventurer will rush to swell their legions, and they will sweep down upon the South as the hosts of Attila did upon the fertile fields of Italy. And shall you find in defeat that mercy which you did not find in victory 1 You may slumber now, but you will awake to a fearful reality. You may lie upon your beds of ease, and dream that, when it is all over, you will be welcomed back to all the privileges and immunities of grensy citizens, but how terrible will be your disappointment! You will have an ignoble home, overrun by hordes of insolent slaves and rapacious soldiers. You will wear the badge of a conquered race. Pariahs among your fellow-creatures, yourselves degraded, your delicate wives and gentle children thrust down to menial service, insulted, perhaps dishonored. Think you that these victorious hordes, made up in the Urge part of the sweepings of Europe, will leave you any thing? As well might the lamb expect mercy from the wolf. Power which is checked and fettered by a double contest, is very different from power 'victorious, triumphant, and irresponsible. The friends whom you have known and loved in the North; who have sympathized with you in your trials, and to whom you might have looked for comfort and protection, will have enough to do then to take care of themselves. The surges that sweep over us will carry them away in its refluent tide. Oh ! for the tongue of a prophet, to paint for you what is before you, unless you repent and turn to the Lord, and realize that " His hand is upon all them for good that seek him." The language of Scripture is alone adequate to describe it: "The earth mourncth and languisheth: Lebanon is ashamed and hewn down: Sharon is like a wilderness. They that did feed delicately are desolate in the streets: they that were brought up in scarlet embrace dunghills.—They ravished the women of Zion and the maids in the cities of Judah. They took the young men to grind, and the children fell under the wood. The joy of our heart is ceased; our dance is turned into mourning. The crown has fallen from our head; woe unto us that have sinned."—Richmond Enquirer, November 21.
An Incident Op Tiik New-York Riot.—" Mother, they may kill the body, but they cannot touch the soul 1" was the language used by poor Abraham Franklin, as he was borne from the presence of his mother by the barbarous mob on the morning of the fourteenth ult. The young man, aged twenty-three, had been an invalid for about two years, and was a confirmed consumptive. When the mob broke into the house they found him in bed. They bore him into the street, and there, although be had not raised a finger against them—indeed, was not able to do so—they beat him to death, hanged him to a lamp-post, cut his pantaloons off at the knees, cut bits of flesh out of his legs, and afterward set fire to him! All this was done beneath the eyes of his widowed mother. Such an exhibition of bloodthirstiness is without a parallel in the history of crime. Patrick Butler and George Glass, both Irishmen, the latter fiftythree years of age, were arrested for the murder of Mr. Franklin.—Anglo-African.
Neoro Courage—An Incident At Charleston.— The Neicburgh Journal says that a private letter received from a member of the Tenth Legion, contains the following interesting passage:
"The Tenth Connecticut (white) and Fifiy-fourth Massachusetts (black) wore on picket. The rebels came down at daylight with five regiments of infantry, one of cavalry, and two pieces of artillery, attacking our whole picket-line simultaneously. The Tenth Connecticut being a small regiment, and somewhat detached from the rest of the line, gave way almost immediately, firing but very few shots. Not so, however, with the darkeys. They stood their ground and blazed away until almost surrounded. One company of them was completely cut off from the rest and surrounded by a rebel regiment formed in square. The poor niggers plainly heard the rebel colonel give the order, "Take no prisoners!" and well knowing that that was equivalent to "Give no quarter," clubbed their muskets and make a desperate effort to break the rebel lines, in which they succeeded, with a loss of five killed and six or eight wounded. Nine out of ten white companies under the same circumstances would have surrendered; but the darkeys, knowing their lives were forfeited any way, concluded to die fighting like brave men (as they are) rather than give up. The " sympathizers" of the North may say and think what they please about the fighting qualities of the negro; but as for myself, I
would as soon fight alongside of a negro regiment as of any white one; and, besides, I believe, as a general thing, they will fight more desperately and hold out longer than most of our white troops. I am not a duv ciple of Henry Ward Beecher, so you need not accuse me of Abolitionism because of that last sentiment. It is the honest conviction of my heart, strengthened by actual experience. Give me my choice, to fight beside a darkey or a " sympathiser," and I will take the gentleman of color every time, both because he it more of a gentleman, and a more loyal man."
Jenny Wade, The Heroine Of Gettysburgh.—The country has already heard of John Burns, the hero of Gettysburgh: of how the old man sallied forth, a host within himself, "to fight on his own hook," and how he fell wounded after having delivered many shots from his trusty rifle into the face and the hearts of his country's foes. John Burns's name is already recorded among the immortal, to live there while American valor and patriotism has an admirer and an emulator. But there was a heroine as well as a hero of Gettysburgh. The old hero, Burns, still lives; the heroine, sweet Jenny Wade, perished in the din of that awful fray, and she now sleeps where the flowers once bloomed, and the perfume-laden air wafted lovingly over Cemetery Hill.
Before the battle, and while the National hosts were awaiting the assault of the traitor foe, Jenny Wade was busily engaged in baking bread for the National troops. She occupied a house in range of the guns of both armies, and the rebels had sternly ordered her to leave the premises, but this she as sternly refused to do. While she was busily engaged in her patriotic work a Minie ball pierced her pure breast, and she fell a holy sacrifice in her country's cause. Almost at the same time a rebel officer of high rank fell near where Jenny Wade had perished. The rebels at once proceeded to prepare a coffin for their fallen leader, but about the time that was finished the surging of the conflict changed the positions of the armies, and Jenny Wade's body was placed in the coffin designed for her country's enemy. The incidents of the heroine and the hero of Gettysburgh are beautifully touching, noble, and sublime.
Old John Burnt woe the only man of Gettysburgh who participated in the struggle to save the North from invasion, while innocent Jenny Wade was the only sacrifice which the people of that locality had to offer on the shrine of their country. Let a monument be erected on the ground which covers her, before which the pilgrims to the holy tombs of the heroes of Gettysburgh can bow and bless the memory of Jenny Wade. If the people of Gettysburgh are not able alone to raise the funds to pay for a suitable monument for Jenny Wade, let them send a committee to Harrisburgh, and our little boys and girls will assist in soliciting subscriptions for thi3 holy purpose. Before the summer sunshine again kisses the grave of Jenny Wade; before the summer birds once more carol where she sleeps in glory; before the flowers again deck the plain made famous by gallant deeds, let a monument rise to greet the skies in tokens of virtue, daring, and nobleness.— Harrisburgh Telegraph.
Incidents Oj Mission Ridge.—One of the noncommissioned staff of the Sixth Ohio thus speaks of the charge, in which General Wood's division participated, up the steeps of Missionary Ridge, in the fighting of Wednesday, November twenty-fifth:
From the foot to the crest of Missionary Ridge is at least three fourths of a mile, and very steep. Up this steep our men charged, right in the very mouths of at least sixty guns, that belched forth grape and canister incessantly. They stopped to rest only twice in the whole distance, each time quietly getting up and advancing as deliberately as though on drill, until, arrived at last within about one hundred yards of the enemy, away they went with a whoop and a yell, and clearing, almost at a bound, embankments, ditehes, and every thing, were in the rebel works. They captured about five thousand prisoners, and nearly all the enemy's artillery. Our brigade (Hazen's) alone took sixteen pieces, and of these our regiment claims six, which they facetiously call the "Sixth Ohio battery." Not one gun was spiked, as far as I can learn."
"Chickamauga" rang through the lines when the charge was made. A rebel captain was captured by a boy of our regiment, and refusing to go the rear, our boy pushed him upon the breastworks, and gave him a kick in the region of his " base," that sent him headlong down the hill, accompanying the demonstration with the shout: " Chickamauga, you /"
Altogether, it was a glorious day for the army of the Cumberland.
Pocahontas, Tknn., Nov. 19.—An amusing instance of the efficiency of our negro troops occurred at this post to-day, which we will submit to our friends at the North as evidence of the vigilance with which our lines are guarded, and of the implicit obedience to orders, both general and special, which is here observed. A verdant but exceedingly well-developed Mississippian of twenty summers presented himself at the pickets guarded by colored troops, and, although Order No. 157 had completely closed the lines, the officer of the guard saw something suspicious in the stranger, and sent him under guard (a healthy African) to the Provost-Marshal, who inquired carefully into the young man's business within the lines, and ascertained that his chief ambition and desire was to procure a pound of tobacco, for which noble purp'ose he had come from down in "Mississip." This was rather aggravating, but our Provost smothered his wrath somewhat and offered his visitor a bit of the weed; then turned to the African escort and told him to put the butternut beyond the lines at double-quick. The guard and his charge left the office. On reaching the street, the negro, true to his instructions, announced the double-quick; but the chivalry stated that he did not like to run, whereupon down came the African's bayonet and out flew the butternut's coat-tail to the horizontal, which each maintained down the street and out to the pickets, a little better than a mile, to the infinite amusement of the idlers, all agreeing that it was the prettiest trotting ever seen, and giving the chivalry credit for good bottom.— Chicago Tribune.
Corintb, Miss., Oct. 1.—A feat was lately accomplished by some Union Alabama soldiers, which I think has not been excelled during the war, and is worthy of record. On the fourteenth of last month Lieutenant Tramel and ten men of the First Alabama Federal cavalry, started on foot from Glendale, some ten miles from here, where the regiment is stationed, and proceeded into the centre of Alabama, and, after an absence of two weeks, they reached camp in safety, bringing with them one hundred and ten recruits for their regiment, as well as five prison
ers—one a lieutenant—and a rebel mail as trophies. The lieutenant captured was engaged in conscripting, and says he thinks that the Confederacy is about played out, if ten men can travel all through it.— Chicago Tribune.
A Private in battery F, Fourth TJ. S. artillery, writes the following epitaph for John B. Floyd:
Floyd has died and few have sobbed,
Since, had he lived, all had been robbed:
He's paid Dame Nature's debt, 'tis said,
The only one he ever paid.
Some doubt that he resigned his breath.
But vow he has cheated even deuth.
If he is buried, oh! then, ye dead, beware,
Look to your swaddlings, of your shrouds take care,
Lest Floyd should to your coffins make his way,
And steal the linen from your mouldering clay.
A Secessionist Trick.—The New-Orleans Tima of the twenty-eighth of October says .
"We have been told, most egrcgiously Sold; as many other good and respectable people have been before us. Some ingenious person, signing himself or herself 'Emily M. Washington,' sent us really a beautiful patriotic poem—when read in the usual way—which we published in our Sunday's issue, but which turned out to be an acrostic of the most abominable rebel character."
By reading the first letters of each line, and adding the iast line of each stanza, we get the following:
"Sink, sink the Stars and Stripes for ever!
The New-Orleans Era says indignantly: "If by such arts of cunning our contemporary expects to fan into a flame the expiring embers of secessionism in this city, it will signally fail." Here follows the poem:
THE STARS AND STRIPES FOR EVER.
BY EMILY M. WASHINGTON.
Since first our banner bright unfurled
Its crimson folds of glory,
Keep peace with ours in story!
Its greatness now would smother I No earthly power that flag shall mar,
Ring, prince, or any other.
The Stars and Stripes for ever 1
'Long many a crimson field of fame—
O'er decks grown red for honor— Round Bunker's Hill and Brandywine,
Danced that old veteran banner I
All wrong, but subtle reason,
Lift up that rag of treason—
The bannered Cross 1 Oh 1 never t
When darkness draped our country's sky,
From scourging foes and scowling woes,
That flag sprang forth in sorrow! Wrong gave the Stripes—hope wrought the Stars—
Ah! those old grandsires able,
They passed—the good, the noble,
When swarming foemen thronged our shores,
Hard pressed for food and rifles.
Nor shrunk at such mere trifles;
And still as slaughter crowned them,
Huug proudly, grandly round them,
Down many a vista'd year since then,
Enshrined in hoary houor,
Our grand old veteran banner 1
Now threat that badge we cherish; Charge! sons of old Columbia, then 1
Ere that flag fall, we perish!
The Stabs And Stri Pes For Ever 1
The Saoacitt Of General Thomas.—There can be no question that General Thomas saved the army of the Cumberland in the critical battle of Chickamauga. The Georgia papers say that the plan of the battle was determined upon by General Bragg after consultation with General Lee. The plan was literally to destroy our army. It was, to cross the Chickamauga Creek on our left flank, where Thomas's corps was placed, and then force him back upon Crittenden and McCook. After Thomas was thus driven, another rebel column was to cross the creek and strike Thomas again as he was forced back, thus completiug his rout. Thomas, with the sagacity of a great soldier, perceived the object of the rebels. He did not wait to be assailed, but, with Napoleonic tactics, he concluded to be the assailing party, and hence issued the following important order:
Headquarters Fourteenth Armt Corps, I Near Mcdasikl's HorsB, September 19—9 A.M. J Major-Oeneral Palmer:
The rebels are reported in quite a heavy force between you and Alexander's Hill. If you advance as soon as possible on them in front, while I attack them in flank, I think we can use them up.
Respectfully your obedient servant,
Ueo. H. TnoMAS, Major-General Commanding.
This order, the Georgia papers say, saved General Rosecrans's army. The Southern journals came to a knowledge of this order from the fact that the adjutant of General Palmer's staff was taken prisoner, and this order was found in his pocket. There is no man in the nation who thinks that Rosecraus could have been superseded by a better man than General Thomas. There is an earnest heartiness in this note, | in speaking of the enemy as "rebels.'' "I think we j can use them up" are words the patriot likes to hear. As an illustration of General Thomas's sagacity, a general officer now in this city says that if Thomas could j have had ten thousand fresh men on Sunday afternoon, i he would have utterly routed the rebel army. This officer says that General Thomas clearly saw the prize of victory within his grasp; but, after the brigades of i
the reserve corps had been hurled against the rebels, Thomas had not another thousand fresh soldiers whom he could use. He saved the army, but he would not have been content with that. He wanted and would have had such a victory as would have carried dismay throughout the South. This field-officer says that there were other generals besides Thomas who saw what a prize was lost for the want of ten thousand men. —Milwaukee Wisconsin.
Mafftt, The Pirate Captain.—The Boston Transcript says: "When a boy at school, in Portsmouth, New-Hampshire, this bad specimen of humanity always fell below his class. One of his schoolfellows remembers these couplets, which a little urchin of twelve made about him on a certain " exhibition day" many years ago:
And here's Johnny Maffit, as straight as a gun—
Southern Greek Fire.—The Mobile Register and Advertiser asserts that Colonel John Travis (of pistolshot notoriety) has discovered, if not the ancient, at least its counterpart and equal, the modern "Greek fire." Its components are kept secret, but Colonel Travis tenders the use of his invention to the confederate States. The Register gives the following account of a test of this fire:
"On Thursday evening last, near the bay road, in the suburbs of this city, in the presence of several scientific professors, ordnance and artillery officers, Colonel Miller, commanding this volunteer and conscript bureau, other officers of the army and navy, a score of ladies, and at least one representative of the press, Captain Travis made two distinct experiments of his fire or composition, using on each occasion less than half a pint of the preparation, a fluid. Both were eminently successful, eliciting universal commendation. Instantaneously on being exposed to the air the fluid becomes a blaze of fire, with heat intense, resembling that of a liquid metal in the smelting process. A pile of green wood, into which it was thrown, ignited immediately, like tinder.
"Without delay, within ten seconds, a number of bucketfuls of water were thrown upon the flames, a dense volume of smoke ascended, the hissing and singing sound of a quenched fire was heard; but lo! the burning fluid licked up tho water, destroying its oxygen, a fluid seemingly added to the flame, and the wood cracked and hummed, and the flames arose again defiantly unquenchable. On the occasion of these experiments, 'Travis's Greek Fire' burned for something over a quarter of an hour in full vigor and force. Its heat is intense, and flies at once into the body of the substance it touches."—Atlanta Appeal, October 22.
A Scorching Rebuke.—The Nashville Union of the sixth of November, gives the following:
A highly instructive as well as amusing incident took place in one of the business houses on one of our principal streets, last Saturday, while the colored regiment was marching along to the music of the National airs. Several gentlemen were looking on the parade, among them a wealthy planter of Alabama who is a large slaveholder. One of the group stepped out to the door,looking on for a few miuute