The wealth of all earth's unbounded gold,
Or life with its sweet, sad joys untold-
The worth of a patriot's love."

As his blood the message quicker stirred
The boy's bright arteries through—

"I well remember every word,"

He said; " and the angels, who must have heard,
They will remember too."

Then clasped as a mother clasps who stands
Alone between love and death,
Unfelt where the spectral chilly hands
That softly tighten the soothing bands

Over the failing breath.

Mother and child, as the fire burned low,

Slept on the earth's cold breast;

The night passed by, and the morning slow Broke the veil of cloud o'er the stainless snow, But never their perfect rest.

THE DOG OF THE REGIMENT.

"If I were a poet, like you, my friend,"

Said a bronzed old sergeant, speaking to me,
"I would make a rhyme of this mastiff here;
For a right good Union dog is he.
Although he was born on 'secesh' soil,

And his master fought in the rebel ranks.
If you'll do it, I'll tell you his history,
And give you in pay, why-a soldier's thanks.

"Well, the way we came across him was this:

We were on the march, and 'twas getting late When we reached a-farm-house, deserted by all Save this mastiff here, who stood at the gate. Thin and gaunt as a wolf was he,

And a piteous whine he gave 'twixt the bars; But, bless you! if he didn't jump for joy

When he saw our flag with the Stripes and Stars.

"Next day, when we started again on the march, With us went Jack, without word or call; Stopping for rest at the order to 'halt,'

And taking his rations along with us all, Never straggling, but keeping his place in line, Far to the right, and close beside me; And I don't care where the other is found, There never was better drilled dog than he.

"He always went with us into the fight,

And the thicker the bullets fell around,
And the louder the rattling musketry rolled,
Louder and fiercer his bark would sound;
And once when wounded, and left for dead,
After a bloody and desperate fight,
Poor Jack, as faithful as friend can be,
Lay by my side on the field all night.

"And so when our regiment home returned,

We brought him along with us, as you see; And Jack and I being much attached,

The boys seemed to think he belonged to me. And here he has lived with me ever since';

Right pleased with his quarters, too, he seems. There are no more battles for brave old Jack, And no more marches except in dreams. "But the best of all times for the old dog is

When the thunder mutters along the sky,

Then he wakes the echoes around with his bark,
Thinking the enemy surely is nigh.

Now I've told you his history, write him a rhyme-
Some day poor Jack in his grave must rest-
And of all the rhymes of this cruel war

Which your brain has made, let his be the best.”

THE VETERAN VOLUNTEERS.

BY H. C. BALLARD.

Our hope and faith are cheered anew;
Our hearts are strong once more.
The brave and war-worn men in blue,
Tried in the conflict's roar,
Now rally at the Nation's call
With purpose true and brave,
The dear old banner shall not fall
Their comrades died to save!

Bold heroes of the mighty North!
No doubts our hearts can chill;
Ye bear the hopes of millions forth,
And execute their will;

No terrors check, no dangers daunt
The men of many scars,
Who go o'er all the land to plant
The banner of the stars!

The East and West, the border lands,
Join in one loyal song,

With willing hearts and ready hands
They bear the flag along;

They see the mounds where comrade braves
Sleep by each river's side,

No flag shall float above their graves
Save that for which they died!

Behold the ranks of iron men,

With faces toward the foe,
Press boldly to the front again
Where only heroes go;

And brave and true, come woe or weal,
They dare the fearful strife,
For on their gleaming lines of steel
They bear the Union's life!

They leave their fireside joys again
For war's destroying blast,
To tread the bloody battle plain,

Where they may sleep at last;
Yet honor's hand will wreathe with bays
Their brows in coming years;
And unborn millions bless and praise
Our veteran volunteers!

THE STOLEN STARS.

The

Ar a dinner, at which were present Major-General Lewis Wallace, Thomas Buchanan Read, and James E. Murdock, a conversation sprang up respecting ballads for soldiers. General maintained that hardly one had been written suited for the camp. It was agreed that each of them should write one. The following is that of General Wallace:

When good old Father Washington
Was just about to die,

He called our Uncle Samuel

Unto his bedside nigh:
"This flag I give you, Sammy dear,"
Said Washington, said he;
"Where'er it floats, on land or wave,
My children shall be free."

And fine old Uncle Samuel

He took the flag from him,

And spread it on a long pine pole,
And prayed and sung a hymn-
A pious man was Uncle Sam

Back fifty years and more;
The flag should fly till judgment-day,
So, by the Lord, he swore!

And well he kept that solemn oath;
He kept it well, and more:
The thirteen stars first on the flag
Soon grew to thirty-four;
And every star bespoke a State,
Each State an empire won:
No brighter were the stars of night
Than those of Washington.

Beneath that flag two brothers dwelt;
To both 'twas very dear;
The name of one was Puritan,
The other Cavalier.

"Go build ye towns," said Uncle Sam
Unto those brothers dear;
"Build anywhere, for in the world
You've none but God to fear."

"I'll to the South," said Cavalier, "I'll to the South," said he;

"And I'll to the North," said Puritan"The North's the land for me." Each took a flag, each left a tear

To good old Uncle Sam ;

He kissed the boys, he kissed the flags, And doleful sung a psalm.

And in a go-cart Puritan

His worldly goods did lay;

With wife, and gun, and dog, and axe,
He, singing, went his way.
Of buckskin was his Sunday suit,
His wife wore linsey-jeans;
And fat they grew, like porpoises,
On hoe-cake, pork, and beans.

But Cavalier a cockney was;

He talked French and Latin;
Every day he wore broadcloth,
While his wife wore satin.
He went off in a painted ship-
In glory he did go;

A thousand niggers up aloft,
A thousand down below.

The towns were built, and I've heard said,

Their likes were never seen;

They filled the North, they filled the South,
They filled the land between.
"The Lord be praised!" said Puritan ;
"Bully!" said Cavalier;
"There's room and town-lots in the West,
If there isn't any here."

Out to the West they journeyed then,
And in a quarrel got;

One said 'twas his, he knew it was;
The other said 'twas not.

One drew a knife, a pistol t'other,

And dreadfully they swore:

From Northern Lake to Southern Gulf
Wild rang the wordy roar.

VOL. VIII.-POETRY 3

And all the time good Uncle Sam Sat by his fireside near,

Smokin' of his kinnikinick,

And drinkin' lager beer.

He laughed and quaffed, and quaffed and laughed,

Nor thought it worth his while, Until the storm in fury burst

On Sumter's sea-girt isle.

O'er the waves to the smoking front,
When came the dewy dawn,
To see the flag, he looked-and lo!
Eleven stars were gone!

"My pretty, pretty stars !" he cried,
And down did roll a tear.
"I've got your stars, Old Fogy Sam;
Ha, ha!" laughed Cavalier.

"I've got your stars in my watch-fob;
Come take them if you dare!"
And Uncle Sam he turned away,
Too full of wrath to swear.
"Let thunder all the drums!" he cried,
While swelled his soul, like Mars:
"A million Northern boys I'll get

To bring me home my stars."

And on his mare, stout Betsey Jane,
To Northside town he flew;

The dogs they barked, the bells did ring,
And countless bugles blew.

"My stolen stars!" cried Uncle Sam-
"My stolen stars!" cried he.
"A million soldiers I must have

To bring them home to me."

"Dry up your tears, good Uncle Sam ;

Dry up!" said Puritan.

"We'll bring you home your stolen stars,

Or perish every man !"

And at the words a million rose,

All ready for the fray;

And columns formed, like rivers deep,

And Southward marched away.

And still old Uncle Samuel
Sits by his fireside near,
Smokin' of his killikinick
And drinkin' lager beer;
While there's a tremble in the earth,

A gleaming of the sky,
And the rivers stop to listen

As the million marches by.

BILL ARP ON CONFEDERATE CURRENCY.-The following, published in a rebel paper, shows the manner in which the depreciated confederate currency oper ated on the rebels themselves:

MR. EDITUR, SUR: At this time I ain't as much in favor of soft money as I was. I don't want to raise no rumpus nor hurt nobody's feelings, but somehow I'm injuced from pekuliar sirkumstances to express my opinyun about the way my finanses have been managed by other people. I would hav writ something about it before, but I thought maybe Guvner Brown would think I was a leaning up to him, and he might insist on makin' me one of his side. Now I'm agin Joseph, and I'm agin all his messages, and cab

bages, and proklamashuns, and aspirations, and abominations. I hain't seen his last great bill of inditement, but from the sillybust of it which appeared in your paper, I'm prepared to say that I would like to experiment on him, and see if Solomon writ the truth in the 22d verse and 27th chapter of Proverbs. I would make the juice fly till I was satisfied, sartin. But I started to write a few paragraphs on the currency. Mr. Trenhome, I suppose, are a mity smart man, and knows how to run the money macheen, but shorely he don't know how the last currency bill af fects me and my naburs. I don't know nothing about bankin' nor finesheering, nor the like of that, but I can't be honeyfuggled as to how my money comes and as to how it goes. I know how proud I was of the first confederate bill that crossed the feel of my fingers. How keerfully I put it low down in my breeches pocket, and kept my hand on it all the way home. I felt proud bekause the Confederacy owed me. Think, says I to myself, this is a big thing sertin, and I'll invest my bottom dollar in this kind of money, and lay it away for hard times.

Well. After while, Mr. Memminger, or Congress, or somebody, got up a bill, the substance of which were about as follows: "Mr. Arp, Sur: I bought sum supplies from you for my army, and I give you my notes. Now, if you will consolidate 'em and wait twenty years for the money, I'll pay you four per cent interest. If you won't do it, I'll repudiate one third of the debt, and I won't take any of it for what you owe me for taxes." Mr. Editur, it didn't take two to make that bargain-it only took one. I hurried off to the Agency and consolidated. They took my money and give me a little sickly scrap of yaller printin' about the size of a thumb-paper, and I kep it, ontil I was obliged to hav some change, and I sold it to a white man for fifty cents in the dollar. I took my pay in a passel of hundred dollar bills, drawin' intrust at two cents a day, and having a pickter of an ingine pullen a train of kars rite under a telegraph wire, and the steam a bilin' out all over it. Think, says I to myself, this here is a big thing sartin and shore, for it's the right size, and it's drawin' intrust, and it's good for taxes durin' the war, for it says so on the upper left-hand corner.

Now, Mr. Trenhome, N. B., take notis. You came into offis, and then you, or Congress, or somebody, fixed up a bill which says in substance: "Oh! see here, Mr. Arp. We forget about them intrust notes when we made you fund your other money. You must come up in a few days and fund them too. If you don't you can keep 'em, but we won't pay you any more intrust after the first of January, 1865, and we will tax 'em five per sent, and we won't take 'em for any thing you owe us." Well, I concluded to hold on to 'em, intrust or no intrust, tax or no tax, for I've got to spend 'em very soon and they are more convenient than thum papers, I put 'em on the market, and the very best offer I could git was fifty cents on the dollar and the intrust thrown in. I thought that the merchants had combined to swindle me, but I got hold of a paper containin' your last big currency bill, and its language to me are in substance as follers:

Mr. Arp, Sur: Since the seventeenth day of February, 1864, we've borrowed a heap of money, and give our notes called the new isshew. Now we want to make the holders come up and fund those notes, and we are going to mortgage cotton and corn enuf to secure 'em. As for them intrust bills of yours, we can't do any thing for 'em-the fact is, we have left 'em out in the cold. It will take all the cotton and

corn to sekure the new isshew. Oh! see here, Mr Arp, you'll have to bring over your cotton and grain to help us out, for we are bound to have it. Good morning, sur."

That's it, exactly, Mr. Trenhome. That's the way it works me and my naburs. We can't help ourselves, but it's a hurtin' us way down in our buzzums. I had six hundred dollars of the old ishew, and I promised Mrs. Arp some of it to buy her a cow. The fundin' business rejuced it to three hundred in them intrust notes. Your currency bill has put them down to one hundred and fifty, and it won't buy the hide and taller of a flatwoods heifer. I never hear my offspring cry for milk, but what I think of you affexionately, and exklaim, "Hard, hard, indeed, is the contest for freedom and the struggle for liberty," and I hav also thought at sich times, that if a man, a living man, had treat me in that way, if I couldent whip him, I would sue him in the big cowrts, and the little cowrts, and all other cowrts. I would sue him all over with warrants, and summonses, and subpenas, and interrogatories. He could get into jail for swindlin' just as the captain of the forty thieves got into the robbers' cave.

Then agin I git over it, and conclude that maybe it couldent be helped, but my deliberate opinyun are, that it is just as easy for a government to be honest as it is for a man, and it's a heap more important. If Mr. Trenhome thinks so, he'll buy Mrs. Arp a cow, and show his faith by his works. In the language of Mr. Milton: "I don't want nothin' but what's right." Yours trooly, BILL ARP.

P. S.-Mr. Editur: If you think the above will be any comfort to Joe Brown, just leave all the last part out of the paper you send to him. B. A.

WIGFALL ON HONESTY.-In the rebel Senate, on the eighteenth of January, during the consideration of the impressment bill, Mr. Wigfall took occasion to give his views on the question of honesty. It was clear, he said, that if the prices of provisions, from the cupidity of producers, continued to increase, and the currency to expand at its present rate, the government would be confronted with the necessity of repudiation on the one hand, or of bankruptcy to the whole producing interest on the other. He then added:

"If repudiation is to be the result, he was prepared to lay down his arms and surrender at once, for the loss of liberty would be more tolerable than the loss of honor. If the country is ruined by the incontinent madness of the people, every man of them will be ruined; if it is dishonored, they will all share the dishonor. Let the leaders of the people and the press explain these matters to the people, instead of telling them that they will gain their independence but lose their liberties. Let Congress pass such a bill as he had indicated, and let the members, when they return home, tell their constituents the object of the bill, and they will receive the plaudit: Well done, thou good and faithful servant."

A SCOTCH traveller, who visited the United States, furnished to the Edinburgh Scotsman the following anecdote of General Grant:

"The day before Grant attacked Fort Donelson, the troops had had a march of twenty miles, part of it during a bitter cold night. Grant called a council of war, to consider whether they should attack the

We didn't used to think nothin' of it; but, you see, there's been so much talk lately, we got to thinkin' about it. Our master told us he'd give us all a hoss apiece and a new suit o' cloze if we'd stay with him, and I thought I'd stay; but, you see, the others left mor'n a week ago, and it was kind o' lonesome like, and I cut out too."

"Do you think it was right to leave your master, who always treated you kindly, with no help?" "Well, boss, it does look like a trick; but then, you know, we must look out for number one. White folks does it, and nigger will too. We's done got in the crop, and the women and children must take it off. Besides, nigger's been at the bottom of this fuss from the start, an' it's nothin' more'n right for nigger to have a hand in the fightin'."

Suppose you get killed? A grape shot would make an ugly hole in that hide of yours." "Well, I've thought o' that; I'll have to run the chances. But if I stay at home, a tree might fall on me."

My shining colored friend smiled audibly at this sally of fatalistic wit, displaying a formidable row of ivories, competent to the pulverization of the hardest of hard tack, and I passed on. In a few moments I

was arrested with:

say, boss, has you been a soldier man?" I pleaded guilty to a limited military experience, when my colored friend was urgent in his request that I should "tell a poor nigger all about it." I gave him an idea of what he might expect, for which he expressed his thanks, and struck off for the rendezvous, expressing a determination to see it through.

I asked another recruit if all the negroes in Kentucky were going soldiering. "Pretty much all of 'em that are able, sah," was the reply. "There ain't none left in our neighborhood."

People who don't own slaves, and are subject to the draft, appear to be delighted with the movement. "No more draft in Kentucky!" is the gratified exclamation with which they accompany the rubbing of their hands. Slave owners are generally sullen, and have little to say. One, however, whom I have met, appears to take a rational and philosophic view of the

matter.

"Confound their black hides," said he, "let 'em go. If they want to go and get riddled with canister or filled full of buckshot, why, let 'em. Mine have been more bother than they were worth for the last three years, and I am glad they're gone. They think there's hell now; but wait till the shells begin to fly around their ears, and they'll wish they was back on the old farm. I'd a sight rather a nigger would be killed than me, any how, and I wouldn't care if every nigger in Kentucky, male and female, would go." And he gave a gratified snort of self-approval, a look out of the stage window at a passing flock of blackbirds en route for Camp Nelson, and felt in his coat pocket for a small package of Bourbon.

GENERAL BEAUREGARD AND THE BLACK FLAG.-It was stated by Governor Letcher, in a speech at Danville, that Stonewall Jackson was in favor of the black flag. It appears, from the following private letter written by General Beauregard while recruiting his health at Bladen Springs, Alabama, after the retreat from Corinth, that he coincided in opinion with General Jackson. We find the letter in The Columbia Guardian, which obtained the writer's permission to publish it:

BLADEN, ALA., Aug. 8, 1862 MY DEAR GENERAL: I regret much to hear of being wounded. I hope he will soon be able to face the Abolitionists. In this contest we must triumph or perish; and the sooner we make up our minds to it, the better. We now understand the hypocritical cry of "Union and the Constitution," which means, and always did mean, "spoliation and murder."

We will yet have to come to proclaiming this war a war to the knife," when no quarter will be asked or granted. I believe it is the only thing which can prevent recruiting at the North. As to ourselves, I think that very few will not admit that death is preferable to dishonor and ruin,

Our great misfortune is, that we have always relied on foreign intervention "and peace in sixty days." No nation will ever intervene until it is seen that we can maintain alone our independence; that is, until we can no longer require assistance. England is afraid to admit that she cannot do without our cotton, for then she would virtually be in our power. France is unwilling to interfere, for fear of the treachery of the latter. She always remembers her as "la perfide Albion."

But if France concludes to take Mexico, she will require the alliance of the Southern Confederacy to protect her from Northern aggression. Nations as well as individuals always consult their own interests in any alliance they may form. Hence, our best reliance must be in our "stout hearts and strong arms."

I have been very unwell for several months, but could not rest until now. I hope shortly to return to duty, with renewed health and vigor. I know not yet to what point I shall be ordered. I hope to do something shortly by taking the offensive with a wellorganized army. However, "l'homme propose et Dieu dispose;" hence, I shall go with alacrity wherever I am ordered.

With kind regards, etc., I remain yours, sincerely, G. T. BEAUREgard.

Gen. WM. E. MARTIN, Pocotaligo, S. C.

ANECDOTE OF GENERAL GRANT.-A gentleman from the front tells the following good story of General Grant: A visitor to the army called upon him one morning, and found the General sitting in his tent smoking and talking to one of his staff-officers. The stranger approached the chieftain, and inquired of him as follows: "General, if you flank Lee and get between him and Richmond, will you not uncover Washington, and leave it a prey to the enemy?" General Grant, discharging a cloud of smoke from his mouth, indifferently replied: "Yes, I reckon so." The stranger, encouraged by a reply, propounded question number two: "General, do you not think Lee can detach sufficient force from his army to reinforce Beauregard and overwhelm Butler?' Not a doubt of it," replied the General. Becoming fortified by his success, the stranger propounded question number three, as follows: " General, is there not danger that Johnston may come up and reinforce Lee, so that the latter will swing round and cut off your communications, and seize your supplies? Very likely," was the cool reply of the General, and he knocked the ashes from the end of his cigar. The stranger, horrified at the awful fate about to befall General Grant and his army, made his exit, and hastened to Washington to communicate the news.