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Say, do you think that Hooker — they call him
"Fighten Joe"— Who 'fore' the War Committee run down McClellan
so— Will he cross the Rappy-hannick, and carry out his
schemes, And take us down to Richmun, upon the river
Why, when I left old Kaintuck, just eighteen months
ag°> My mam and sister Ruby both s;iid I shouldn't go; But, I ax'd 'em both, and Susan, to think of me in
dreams. For, I'se bound to go to Richmun, old Richmun on
Tou know, through tribulation, we marched on, night and day,
Through wood's, and mud, and dusty roads, and fighting in the fray;
By smoke-houses and chicken coops, and where the biler stecms,
Which cooked our hard-earned rations tow'rd Richmun on the Jeems.
And, now we're going homeward—me and the other
scamp, Yet, far from old Kentucky, we are oblecged to
tramp; And him who's out of postage stamps, there's nobody
esteems. E'en though he's been in Richmun, and seed the river
To hell with old Phiginny, and all her sacred silo! She's made a heap of trouble, and kept it up a while; And if she's helped herself right much, 'tis like to
them sunbeams The niggers squeeze from cucumbers, in Richmun on
the Jeems 1
—And then his boon companion convulsively turned
o'er, And, grunting an affirmative, straightway began to
snore, Oblivious to war's alarms or love's delightful themes, Or to the fact that Richmond still stands on the Jeems.
Grow on, thou "sour apple-tree," where Jeffy is to
hang! Rejoice, ye running contrabands, for this is your che
bang! No more you'll stem tobacco, thresh wheat, or drive
the teams Of rebels round the city—old Richmond on the Jeems.
KENTUCKY! 0 KENTUCKY!
John Morgan's foot is on the shore,
Kentueky! 0 Kentucky! His hand is on thy stable-door,
Kentucky! 6 Kentucky I You'll see your good gray mare no more, He'll ride her till her back is sore, And leave her at some stranger's door,
Kentucky I 0 Kentucky!
For feeding John you're paying dear,
nis very name now makes you fear, Kentucky! 0 Kentucky!
In every valley, far and near.
He's gobbled every horse and steer;
You'll rue his raids for many a year, Kentucky! 0 Kentucky!
Yet you have many a traitorous fool,
Who still will be the rebels' tool,
They'll learn to yield to Abram's rule
In none but Johnny's costly school,
At cost of every animule,
Kentucky! 0 Kentucky!
TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN.
Proudest of all earth's thrones
Is his who rules by a free people's choice; Who, 'midst fierce party strife and battle groans, Hears, ever rising in harmonious tones,
A grateful people's voice. ,
Steadfast in thee we trust,
Tried as no man was ever tried before; God made thee merciful—God keep thee just Be true !—and triumph over all thou must.
God bless thee evermore I
Great Central Fair, June 16,1S64.
—Daily Fare, Philadtlphia.
THE BAYONET CHARGE.
Hark to the batteries disputing in thunder—
Down through the forest aisles, lofty and large. There's a look on the face of our leader I know.
And I wait the dread order: "Fix bayonel
Am I less brave for a moment's quick shiver?
There's a swift glance flung upward to pierce the
While the thunder rolls nearer, distinct through
it all I catch fragments of whispers; as, "Boys, if I fall;" Or thus, "Should the worst come, write home to
my mother;" "Tell my sister, my wife, that I died like a man." "You'll find in my knapsack, friend," murmurs another, "A line that I scrawled when the battle began."
Our Colonel sits firm; with that look in his eye, Like a sword part unsheathed, he rides gallantly by. Should he fall, made a mark for the sharp-shooter's aim
By his gay epaulette with its golden encrust. There'll be trumpet loud voices to herald his fame;
But I am a private—the commonest dust I
For fame do I fight? Lord of hosts, docs not ho AVho battles for right ever battle for Thee! _
There are graves troddeu level that love seeks in
Held in honor by angels. Alike In thy sight _ The poorest who carves for the red stripes their
And the leader who falls in the van of the fight. They arc coming—they come! Shifting sunbeams
Their wav through the leaves by the glitter of steel; They swarm to the light, through the tree-boles they swarm Out from the forest aisles, lofty and large. Our Colonel turns pale, drops his beckoning arms, But hark, boy?, the order: "Fix bayonetscharge 1"
THE EAGLE OF THE EIGHTH WISCONSIN.
Poised in the azure depths of air,
In his home so near the sun, Like one, just brought in being there. And whose flight had not begun— And he knew not whether his home to seek In that dazzling world of light, "Or glide far down to some snowy peak . Of bleak Ncvadian height—
An eagle's slowly moving wing
Lingered between the sun
While ids left one held his gun;
Though he knew not whence the power;
And the courage for the hour.
The roll of the stirring drum came clear,
The bugle's blast came shrill,
Andlhe eagle shadowed him still;
On the scenes of his early joys,
With the Eighth Wisconsin boys.
And proudly the regiment trod the street,
As it swept from town to town,
A shadow unnoticed came down;
On the swift and crowded train-
Or speeds o'er the sounding plain.
No longer the eagle in eyrie rests,
But his straining flight doth keep,
Or the keel through the foaming deep-
The Eighth arc guarding the line,
The top of a distant pine.
"Come now for a shot at him. Who's afraid
But the boy on whose right had leaned the maid
Cried: "Hold! would'st thou fight in a holy war,
And would'st take the life we are fighting for, For the sake of a poor dead bird?"
The eagle's circuits, in slow descent,
Came nearer, day by day,
Where a wounded soldier lay—
No mure, whose left a gun,
Between him and the sun.
He folded his heavy wing.-', and slept
On the ridge of the sick hoy's tout, Or with flashing eye his vigils kept
On all that came and went. Do you wonder that soon as the soldier stirred
Forth for the air and the sun, On his shoulder perched the tierce, grim bird,
Ere its strength could bear his guu?
And when, once more, he proudly marched
To a soldier's pains and joys,
*Mid the Eighth Wisconsin boys;
And its deathly flashes gleam,
Till their blood and their banners stream
In mass confused and mingled flow,
And shell or shrapnel sings
The eagle flaps his wings,*
Outshines the bayonet's gleam;
And the roar of the fierce artillery,
Rises the eagle's cry,
Inspired his voice and eye.
Aud answer with shout and cheer,
And they light on without fear.
Thus from the banks of far Osage,
To Ohiekamauga's shore— 'Mid Donelson's relentless rage,
And Vicksburgh's thundering roar-
Unshadowed by defeat-
From field and fort retreat—
The Eighth Wisconsin marches on,
* A correspondent of the Trnqua (Wis.) Times gives tlie following among other particulars, relative tn the eagle of the Eighth Wisconsin regiment, which the soldiers have named
"When (lie ri-tment Is engaged in battle, 01.1 Ala- manifests the fiercest delight. At such a time he will always be found In his appropriate place, at the head of company I>. To he wen In all his glory, he should he seen when the regiment is enveloped in the smoke of battle. Then the eagle, with spread pinions jumps up and down on his perch, uttering such wild, fearful'screams as an eagle alone can utter. The fiercer wilder, and louder the storm of buttle, the fiercer, wilder, and louder the scream of the eagle. Twice Old Abe has la-en hit by seces.ion bullets; one shot carried away a third part of his tall-feathers lie is a universal favorite, and has been carried with tho regiment through seven States. Thousands llock to see him, and he Is fast becoming famous."
And one of them bears on his right a gun,
On his left the noble bird.
Of a far Wisconsin glade,
Outflanked, right and left, by a maid.
THE BLUE COAT.
The following hallad is from the pen of Bishop BurRess, of Maine, ami was contributed hy him to the hook published and sold at the Sanitary Fair in Baltimore, under the sanction of the gtute Fair Association of the women of Maryland:
THE BLCE COAT OF TnE SOLDIER.
You asked me, little one, why I bowed,
Though never I passed the man before?
I knew not, I, what weapon he chose,
What chief he followed, what badge he wore;
Enough that in the front of foes
His country's blue greatcoat he wore.
Perhaps he was born in a forest hut,
Perhaps he had danced on a palace-floor; •
To want or wealth my eyes were shut,
I only marked the coat he wore.
The blue great-coat, etc.
It mattered not much if he drew his line
For surely he was a brother of mine,
He might have no skill to read or write,
But I knew he could make his mark in fight,
It may be he could plunder and prowl,
Anil perhaps in his mood he scoffed and swore;
But I would not guess a spot so foul
He had worn it long, and borne it far;
And perhaps on the red Virginian shore,
That worn great-coat the sentry wore.
When hardy Butler reined his steed
Through the streets of proud, proud Baltimore, Perhaps behind him, at his need,
Marched he who yonder blue coat wore.
Perhaps it was seen in Burnside's ranks,
Perhaps on the mountain-side with Banks,
Perhaps in the swamps was a bed for his form,
Or with Kearny and Pope 'mid the steelly storm.
Or when right over, as Jackson dashed,
Or when far ahead Antietam flashed.
He flung to the ground the coat that he wore.
Or stood at Gettysburgh, where the graves
Or saw with Grant the unchained waves
That garb of honor tells enough,
Though 1 its story guess no more;
That coat is mail which that soldier wore.
He may hang it up when the peace shall come,
But his children will point, when they hear a drum,
And so, my child, will you and I,
For whose fair home their blood they pour,
The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat,
Rebel Prisoners In Ohio.—The following account of the treatment of rebel prisoners in the Ohio Penitentiary was given in the Richmond Examiner of March seventeenth, 1804:
The experiences of this war have afforded many examples of Yankee cruelty which have produced an impression more or less distinct upon the enlightened portions of the world. But the statement which we proceed to give, takes precedence of all that has ever yet been narrated of the atrocities of the enemy; and it is so remarkable, both on account of its matter and the credit that must naturally attach to its authorship, that we doubt whether the so-called civilized world of this generation has produced anywhere any well-authenticated story of equal horror.
The statement we give to our readers is that we have just taken from the lips of Captain Calvin C. Morgan, a brother of the famous General Morgan, who arrived in Richmond under the recent flag of truce, which covered the return of several hundred of our prisoners. Captain Morgan was among those of his brother's expedition who, in lust July, were incarcerated in the Penitentiary of Ohio. On entering this infamous abode, Captain Morgan and his companions were stripped in a reception-room and their naked bodies examined there. They were again' stripped in the interior of the prison, and washed in tubs by negro convicts; their hair cut close to the sculp, the brutal warden, who was standing by, exhorting the negro barber to " cut off every d——d lock of their rebel hair." After these ceremonies, the officers were locked up in cells, the dimensions of which were thirty-eight inches in width, six and a hHlf feet in length, and about the same in height. In these narrow abodes our brave soldiers were left to pine, branded as felons, goaded by " convict-drivers," and insulted by speeches which constantly reminded them of the weak and cruel neglect of that government, on whose behalf, after imperilling their lives, they were now suffering a fate worse than death. But even these sufferings were nothing to what was reserved for them in another invention of cruelty without a parallel, unless in the secrets of the infernal.
It appears that after General Morgan's escape, suspicion alighted on the warden, a certain Captain Merion, who, it was thought, might have been corrupted. To alleviate the suspicion, (lor which there were really no grounds whatever,) the brute commenced a system of devilish persecution of the unfortunate confederate prisoners who remained in his hands. One part of the system was solitary confinement in dungeons. These dungeons were close cells, a false door being drawn over the grating so as to exclude light and air. The food allowed the occupants of these dark and noisome pUces was three ounces of broad and half a pint of water per day. The four walls were bare of every thing but a water-bucket, for the necessities of nature, which was left for days to poison the air the prisoner breathed. He was denied a blanket; deprived of his overcoat, if he had one, and left standing or stretched with four dark, cold walls around hiin, with not room enough to walk in to keep up the circulation of his blood, stagnated with the cold, and the silent and unutterable horrors of his abode.
Confinement in these dungeons was the warden's sentence for the most trivial offences. On one occasion, one of our prisoners was thus immured because he refused to tell Merion which one of his companions had whistled, contrary to the prison rules. But the most terrible visitation of this demon's displeasure occurred not more than six weeks ago.
Some knives had been discovered in the prisoner's cells, and Merion accused the occupants of meditating their escape. Seven of thein, all officers, and among them Captain Morgan, were taken to the west end of the building and put in the dark cells there. They were not allowed a blanket or overcoat, and the thermometer was below zero. There was no room to pace. Each prisoner had to struggle for life, as the cold benumbed him, by stamping his feet, beating the walls, now catching a few minutes of horrible sleep on the cold floor, and then starting up to continue, in the dark, his wrestle for life.
"I had been suffering from heart-disease," says Captain Morgan. "It was terribly aggravated by the cold and horror of the dungeon in which I was placed. I had a wet towel, one end of which I pressed to my side; the other would freeze, and I had to put its frozen folds on my naked skin. I stood this way all ni"ht, pressing the frozen towel to ray side, and keeping my feet going up and down. I felt I was struggling lor my life."
Captain Morgan endured this confinement for eighteen hours, and was taken out barely alive. The other prisoners endured it for sixteen days and nights. In this time they were visited at different periods by the physician of the penitentiary—Dr. Loring—who felt their pulses and examined their conditions, to ascertain how long life might hold out under the exacting torture. It was awful, this ceremony of torture, this medical examination of the victims. The tramp of the prisoners' feet up and down, (there was no room to walk,) as they thus worked for life, was incessantly going on. This black tread-mill of the dungeon could be heard all through the cold and dreary hours of the night. Dr. Loring, who was comparatively a humane person, besought Merion to release the unhappy men;
said they had abeady been taxed to the point of death. The wretch replied : "They did not talk right yet." He wished them to humble themselves to him. He went into the cell of one of them, Major Webber, to taunt him. "Sir," said the officer, "I defy you. You can kill me, but you can add nothing to the sufferings you have already inflicted. Proceed to kill me; it makes not the slightest difference."
At the expiration of sixteen days the men were released from the dungeons. Merion said '' he would take them out this time alive, but the next time they offended they would be taken out feet foremost." Their appearance was frightful; they could no longer be recognized by their companions. With their bodies swollen and discolored, with their minds bordering on childishness, tottering, some of them talking foolishly, these wretched men seemed to agree but in one thing —a ravenous desire for food.
"I had known Captain Coles," says Captain Morgan, "as well as my brother. When he came out of his dungeon, I swear to you I did not know him. His face had swollen to two or three times its ordinary size, and he tottered so that I had to catch him from falling. Captain Barton was in an awful state. His face was swollen, and the blood was bursting from the skin. All of them had to be watched, so as to check them in eating, as they had been starved so long."
Captain Morgan was so fortunate as to obtain a transfer to Johnson's Island, whence, after being carried to Point Lookout, he was exchanged. He says that when "he got into Beast Butler's hands, he felt as if he had been translated to Paradise"—showing what comparative things misery and happiness are in this world. But he left in those black walls of captivity he had been released from, sixty-five brave men, who are wearing their lives away without evep a small whisper of relief from that government for which they are martyrs.
Is there any authority in Richmond that will crook a thumb to save these men, who are not only flesh of our flesh, but the defenders of those in this capital, who, not exactly disowning them, undertake the base and cowardly pretence of ignoring their fate?
What is the confederate definition of " retaliation"? Captain Morgan says that on his way down the bay, to Fortress Monroe, he met Colonel Straight; that this famous "hostage" was fat and rubicund; that ho spoke freely of his prison experience in Richmond, and complained only that he had to cat corn-bread. This appeared to be the extent of his sufferings, and the confederate limit of retaliation. Is it necessary to present the contrast further than we have already done, by a relation of facts at once move truthful and more terrible than any argument or declamation could possibly be?
COLONEL MOSIiY OL'TWITTKP.
Colonel Mosby, the guerrilla chief, has become famous, and his dashing exploits are often recorded to our disadvantage; but even he meets with his match occasionally.
On Friday, March twenty-fifth, 1805, Captain E. B. Gere, of the Gri.-wold Light Cavalry, was sent out with one hundred and twenty-five men to the neighborhoods of Berryville and Winchester on a scout, and encamped at Millwood, some six or eight miles from the former place.
After the men had got their fires built, Sergeant Weatherby, of company B, Corporal Simpson, of company U, and a private, went some two miles from camp to got punp'T at a farm-home, ami, waiting for the lou'^ '1 ■] ivc'l fa, were sui prised to fin'] * 'Vera! revolvers Mi 1 li'iily a Irmire into the room, behind c:ic!i pair of whk-li was ci her Colo <■! Mo-hy, a rebel captain or a li •Mtcnant, :ill rather dotciuiiicJ men, with "shoot in their eye*," who demanded the immediate surrender of the aforesaid Yankees. The aim being wicked, the three Twenty firsters saw they were "under n cloud," atid so quietly gave up the contest.
Colonel Mosby was much elated by hi* good fortune, and required his prisoners to follow him supperlesson iiis rounds to his headquarters at Paris; the private, however, while pretending to get his horse, hid him-elf in the hay and escaped, Mosby not daring to wait and hunt hira up.
On the way to Paris, flic Colonel amused himself by constantly taunting his prisoners with questions: "Were they with Minor Cole when he thrashed him at Upperville?" "Were they with Major Sullivan, of the First veterans, when his men ran away and left him V" "How did they fancy his gray nag ?—he took that from a Yankee lieutenant." "Didn't the Yanks dread him and his men more than they did the regular rebel cavalry?" "How did they (the prisoners) like his style of fighting?" and a hundred such remarks, that indicated the man as being more of a braggart than a hero.
He was, in the mean time, engaged in gathering his men with the avowed intention of attacking Captain Gere's force at daylight, and, if possible, of cutting it to pieces. His followers live in the farm-houses of I Loudon, Clarke, and Jefferson counties, and are cither i rebel soldiers or Union citizens, as the case may re-1 quire. He would ride up to a house, call Joe or I Jake, and tell them that he wanted them at such an hour at the usual place; to go and tell Jim or Mose. Almost every farm turned out somebody in answer to his call, proving that these men, with the certified oath of allegiance in their pockets, and with passes allowing them to come in and go out of our lines at I will, are not only in sympathy with the enemy, but are themselves perjured rebels.
When they arrived at Paris, Colonel Mosby dismounted and stepped into the house where he had his headquarters, leaving his pistols in the holsters. The Lieutenant, with drawn revolver, watched the prisoners while the Captain endeavored to find an orderly to' take the horses. Corporal Simpson, who had been! marking the road for future use, and had been long; looking for it, saw his chance and pretended to tie his ■ horse, but really putting his foot into the stirrup of Mosby's saddle and laying hold of one of the over-1 looked pistols. Tha Lieutenant detected the move! and fired at him, when Simpson shot him through the heart with the weapon he had secured. The Captain turned round and fired, and Colonel Mosby came to
the door to see " what all that row was about,"
just in time to hear a bullet whiz unpleasantly close to his head, that he fired at him "just for luck " as he and his comrade left, yelling back: "Colonel Mosby, how do you like our style of fighting? Wc belong to the Twenty-first New-York." And away they went, leaving Colonel Mosby dismounted, and outwitted of his best horse, saddle, overcoat, pistols, two Yankee prisoners, and at least one vacancy among his commissioned officers. Corporal Simpson rode twelve miles to the camp, closely followed by the Sergeant, and gave Captain Gere such notice of the enemy's intentions that they thought best not to pitch in at the appointed time.
The captured horse is a very fine one, and with the
a-ms, equipments, etc., is still in the possession of Hmpson. We believe it is the intention of the regiment to buy them from the Government, and to present them to the " Yankee Corporal who beat Mosby out of his pet nag."
Captain Gere rctnmed to camp at Halltown Saturday afternoon, having captured Lieutenant Wysong, of the Seventh Virginia, the successor of Captain Blackford, a noted guerrilla, who was killed by a sergeant of the First New-York.
CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN GENERAL BtJTLEB AND A
Sir: My school has been closed since Christmas, because, as I understood the oath required of ui, I could not conscientiously take it. Having heard since then that one of your officers explains the oath as meaning simply that we consent to the acts of the United States Government, and pledge passive obedience to the same, I take the liberty of addressing this to you to ascertain if you so construe the oath. I cannot understand how a woman can " support, protect, and defend the Union," except by speaking or writing in favor of the present war, which I could ncTer do, because my sympathies are with the South. If by those words you understand merely passive submission, I am ready to tike the oath, and abide by it sacredly.
Very respectfully, Mary S. Graves.
Headqrabtkas Eighteenth Army 0"rp3,
Departmknt Of Virginia And North-ovrousa,
Fortress Monroe, March 14, ls&L
My Drar Madam: I am truly sorry that any Union officer of mine has attempted to fritter away the effect of the oath of allegiance to the Government of the United States, and to inform you that it means nothing more than passive obedience to the same.
That officer is equally mistaken. The oath of allegiance means fealty, pledge of faith to, love, affection, and reverence for the Government, all comprised in the word patriotism, in its highest and truest sense, which every true American feels for his or her Government.
You say: "I cannot understand how a woman can support, protect, and defend the Union, except by speaking or writing in favor of the present war. which I could never do, because my sympathies are with the South."
That last phrase, madam, shows why you cannot understand " how a woman can support, protect, and defend the Union."
Were you loyal at heart, you would at once understand. The Southern women who are rebels understand well "how to support, protect, and defend" the Confederacy, "without either speaking or writing." Some of them act as spies, some smuggle quinine in their underclothes, some smuggle information through the lines in rtieir dresses, some tend sick soldiers for the Confederacy, some get up subscriptions for rebel gunboats.
Perhaps it may all be comprised in the phrase: "Where there is a will there is a way."
Now, then, you could "support, protect, and defend the Union " by teaching the scholars of your school to love and reverence the Government, to be proud of their country, to glory in its flag, and to be true to iu Constitution. But, as you don't understand that yourself, you can't teach it to them, and, therefore, I am glad to learn from your letter that your school has