A REMINISCENCE OF DONELSON.-A correspondent he had tested the river everywhere, and no spot had of the Memphis Appeal made the following state- he found that was fordable." ment, on the authority of a member of Congress "I don't care, General, if he did," said Forrest; who was one of the Fort Donelson Investigation Com-" he told you a d-d lie, as I am ready to swear that I mittee: waded the river not half an hour ago, as my wet clothes will testify. And now, gentlemen, as it is getting late, it is high time you should be acting. Will you take my advice, and make your escape? "No," was the reply, "it is too late." On Saturday night, before the surrender, a council of war was called. Pillow, Floyd, Buckner, and a number of brigadiers, composed this body. There was much confusion and exciting debate for a while. Some thought it necessary to surrender, and some did not. It was midnight, and no definite understanding was come to. General Floyd, seeing this, dismissed the council, requesting Pillow and Buckner to remain. The three sat down gloomily by the fire, to ponder over the sad aspect of affairs. A long silence ensued. At last Floyd said: "Well, gentlemen, it remains with us to decide this matter, and we must do it at once. It is now midnight, and if we retreat we haven't got a minute to lose." "I say retreat," said Pillow. "I say surrender! We have shed enough blood already to no purpose," said Buckner. Well, gentlemen," said Floyd, "I see you are still divided; and as I have the casting vote, I will settle the matter at once. I favor a surrender myself, provided the duty does not devolve upon me. I cannot surrender, because the United States Government have indicted me for treason, and the probability is that if they were to get me they would hang me. So, you see, the thing is impossible. I transfer the command to you, General." "Well, gentlemen," said Pillow, "I'm in the same fix as yourself. The Yankees have got me indicted for shipping guns and munitions of war to the confederate government. So, you see, I can't surrender either. They would hang me as quick as they would you; and if you are excusable, I guess I am, too. So I transfer my right of command to you, General Buckner." General Buckner bowed, but said nothing. At that moment a noise was heard without. The door opened, and the courier announced an officer who desired admittance. He was ordered to show him in; and the next moment Colonel Forrest, all splashed with mud and water, with high-topped boots and an old slouched hat, made his appearance. He walked to the fireplace, and seated himself without saying a word. After a few moments, Floyd said: "Well, Colonel, have you any thing important to communicate, that you come here at this late hour, or has your curiosity led you to pay us this visit in order to find out what we have decided upon ?" "Both," replied Forrest dryly; then rising from his chair, he said: "But is it possible, gentlemen, as I have already heard whispered this night, that you intend to surrender?" "Yes," was the reply. "We have just arrived at that conclusion." "But," said Forrest, "there is no occasion for it, gentlemen. The whole army can easily escape, without the loss of a man. Not an hour ago I crossed the river, on my horse, where it was not waist-deep. I crossed it going on horseback, and waded it coming back. It is free from Yankee pickets also, and there is no danger to be feared." "I have one request to make," said Forrest; “I have a fine regiment of cavalry here, and I want per mission to take it out. Grant me this much, and I'm off." General Buckner nodded his head, when Forrest bolted out of the house, took his command, crossed the river at the aforesaid place, and made his escape without the loss of a man. A GOOD JOKE.-I must tell a good thing that occurred here, apropos of General Smith. On his arrival he made his way to General Magruder's office. But sometimes will do, he was occupying a position more one staff-officer happened to be in, and, as young men comfortable than elegant, with his back to the door, singing "Dixie." General Smith interrupted him with: "Is this General Magruder's office?" The young officer broke off his song only enough to reply: "Yes, sir." General S.-Is the General in?" General S.-"Will he be in soon?" General S.-"How long has he been gone?" General S.-"Where is he?" Officer-Don't know, sir. It is not my work to keep him." General S.-" Ahem! My name is Smith." been to see the General." Officer-"Yes. Good many Smiths about-several General S.-" They sometimes call me LieutenantGeneral Smith." Officer-" The deuce you say!" The officer turned a very rapid summerset, and disappeared in a twinkling.-Mobile Advertiser. A GALLANT FEMALE SOLDIER.-Doctor Mary E. Walker writes from Chattanooga an account of a singular case of female martial spirit and patriotic devotion to the flag: Frances Hook's parents died when she was only three years old, and left her, with a brother, in Chicago, Illinois. Soon after the war commenced, she and her brother enlisted in the Sixty-fifth "Home Guards," Frances assuming the name of "Frank Miller." She served three months, and was mustered out, without the slightest suspicion of her sex having arisen. She then enlisted in the Ninetieth Illinois, and was taken prisoner in a battle near Chattanooga. She attempted to escape, and was shot through the calf of one of her limbs while said limbs were doing their duty in the attempt. The rebels searched her person for papers, and discovered her sex. The rascals respected her as a woman, and gave her a separate room while in prison at Atlanta, Georgia. During her captivity, she received a letter from Jeff Davis, offering her a Lieutenant's commission if she would enlist in their army. She had no home and no relatives; but she said she preferred to fight as a private soldier for the Stars and Stripes, rather than be honored with a commission from the rebs. About two weeks ago she was exchanged. The insurgents tried to extort from her a promise that she would go home, and not enter the service again. "Go home!" she said; my only brother was killed at Pittsburgh Landing, and I have no home-no friends!" Dr. Walker describes Frank as of about medium height, with dark hazel eyes, dark brown hair, rounded features, and feminine voice and appearance. Dr. W. is well versed in human nature, as well as anatomy, and she believes that justice to the young woman in question requires that she should be commissioned a lieutenant in the army. The Doctor also argues that Congress should assign women to duty in the army, with compensation, as well as colored men, averring that patriotism has no sex. Whether the President will commission Miss Hook as a lieutenant, or Congress will draft Mrs. Walker's countrywomen into the service, we know not; but we are certain that the "Doctor" is thoroughly in earnest, and that the story of her new protégée is an interesting one.- -Washington Republican. THE ARMY TO THE PEOPLE. Give us this watchword to hear through the fight: "Freedom and Fatherland, God and the Right!" "Freedom," for all that are weak and oppressed"Fatherland, God and the Right!" For the rest, Leave that to us! With a watchword so true, CAROLINE A. MASON. THE LAST STAR. A REMINISCENCE OF MINE RUN. BY E. J. ADAMS. ["Here, Sergeant, take this star. It is the last of thirty-four from our old flag: the remainder are shot away in the eleven battles through which I have borne it-Malvern Hill, Chantilly, SouthMountain, Antietam, first and second Fredericksburgh, Gettys burgh, Falling Waters, Bristow Station, Rappahannock Station, and Mine Run. And if I am not permitted to take it to the ladies who gave it, perform the duty for me, and tell them it never left the field disgraced!"-Color-Sergeant JEFFERSON FOSTER, of the Fifty-ninth New-York volunteers, to Orderly G. S. ADAMS, Of the Sixth New-York artillery.] All quiet now the battle clash; Or shakes the corpse-strewn ground; From dawn of day till eve set in, The separate armies lay Upon their arms that solemn night, Beneath a charred and shattered oak And many a wide and gaping wound But not alone upon the plain Was this youthful warrior left, To be butchered by some thieving band "Squad, halt! and see who this man is." "Friends!" the soldier yelled, "'tis I! Color of the Fifty-ninth, And not afraid to die!" "Here's brandy, Jeff, 'twill do you good, Then p'haps you'll know your friends; But on keeping calm and quiet now, Your recovery depends. "Here, sergeant," said the bleeding man, "This star is all I've got That yet remains of that old flag, POETRY AND INCIDENTS. "My poor old flag was torn to shreds, But still I held it high, Should run as soon as I. "I crawled away to this old tree, And thought of you all, my comrades, To march and carry a different flag, "Tell them I held-" his head bowed down, But he recovered slowly From wounds-a sad array- WILKESBARRE, April 13, 1864. THE AMERICAN WAR. Hark to the sound of the war-charger prancing Their trumpets are sounding slave emancipation! Ye sons of Columbia, your rigor surrender, The sun of your glory descends into night; Your grandsires, who bled for your freedom and splendor, In union combined ye-then why do ye fight? Your maidens are sighing amidst their devotion, Lie silent and cold in the warrior's tomb. The daisies may wave where the pale lips were parted, The Fourth regiment of Alabama infantry style themselves the "Catamounts;" and many other chivalry regiments have assumed corresponding "highfalutin" names, such as "Tigers," "Squirrels," "Dare-Devils," etc.- Weekly Herald. And spirits unfettered their prison deserted, ENLISTED. BY W. A. KENDALL. "You've donned the peerless uniform "You're dearer to me than I thought- "Prouder am I to see you thus Though it preludes good-by Than were you crowned perchance a king, "Your stature seems to gain in height "Go, save our country! she is first- "Go, where along the lurid front The Union vanguards tramp! "As I would ask, so you have done- "These tears attest the grief I feel- Valor for love may sue." So spoke my own brave girl, and fled, To die for her were sweeter far They answer Duty's "give!" O woman! how much patriot fire None less than God can name! SAN FRANCISCO, April 1, 1861. FORT PILLOW. Ah! just as long as history owns a record, This foulest shame upon the South shall rest, That writ, in blood and flame, the fiendish motto, No pity, none, upon the rebel crest. Not for the wounded, and the sick and dying! Is this the foe whose wounded we have tended? O the brave hearts they riddled with their bullets! Then grasp your muskets and belt on your sabres, For fiercely burns the hate of desperate men; But go not forth to murder and to pillage, Nay, leave such bandit-deeds to such as them. Brave hearts ne'er yet were cruel to the vanquished; Let none at home prate peace and compromising, For the world wills that we should conquer them! O bearded faces, brown but kind and tender! Through weary marches, our prayers march with you, And sweet lips cry from home: Dear braves, remember, As you to country, we to you are true. LIZZIE P. THE HERO OF SUGAR PINE. "Oh! tell me, Sergeant of Battery B, O hero of Sugar Pine! Some glorious deed of the battle-field, Some wonderful feat of thine; "Some skilful move when the fearful game "Ah! stranger, here at my gun all day, "So I trained my gun on a rebel piece; "Enough! O Sergeant of Battery B, O hero of Sugar Pine! Alas! I fear that thy cannon's throat Can swallow much more than mine!" LOUISVILLE JOURNAL ADDRESS. Beside my quiet hearth to-night "O Stranger! tell me whence thy flight, "O weary Pilgrim! go not forth, The wind is shrieking from the North; "Maiden, most kind, I may not see His very tones, so soft and low, Or the low sound that sometimes springs, Some thought entrapped in mystic words, Of life and death-of war and peace- (Its slender pillars twined across With orange lichens and green moss,) And found her buds, no more subdued, "Oh! sweet as Love, but dearer far," And then in conscious splendor die; But now he reads a darker page With records stained of hate and rage- Of corpses stiffening in the sun- Of men, whom mothers once wept o'er, "O shrine of Death!" the old man cries, Has drained our land of hopes and cheers, Again he reads of lofty rooms In dumb, red passion, faint and sweet, "What matters it," the old man sighs, "If lamps flash radiance o'er young eyes; What matters it, if fires be warm, And music drowns the shrieking storm, That the cold winter night without Waves its white, frozen wings about, And pallid in its icy wrath The swift snow hurries o'er the path, And strives with eager haste to meet Some weary, faint, and haggard feetThat it may drain some veins of life, And ease some aching heart of strife!" Another page he turneth o'er,. |