POETRY AND INCIDENTS.

THE SWAMP ANGEL.

But, as testing the new birth, lurked there within

Full of a masked deceit

False to all truth, in league with every sin

A most villainous cheat.

Insolent and proud, he drew the 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 cause it 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 ROSECRANS was there-

The chief in the strife, and now we proclaim
His deeds also are there.

Hail! then, the great chief whose victories tell
What the hero has done-

Let's march to his step, and all rebels compel
To acknowledge that ONE,

From E Pluribus Unum proclaimed long ago,
Is the sole rendering patriots care know.

TO THE ARMY OF THE CUMBERLAND.

Devoted band! baptized anew in blood,
Standing again as ye before have stood

To bay the waves of Treason's maddened flood,
A wall, as that of adamantine stone,
Or hills of granite in your own loved North,
Were never aught alike in strength and worth!-
The nation whose torn heart hath sent you forth,
The nation for whose life ye pledged your own,
Looks proudly on you, and although the while,
With o'erfull heart and tearful eye, can smile,
And say, while counting o'er each blood-stained file:
O Army of the Cumberland !-well done!

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,
"Twas yours that surging sea of fire to ride,
That round you licked and beat on every side,
All mad and foaming with the hate of hell;
We heard the roarings of that billowy host,
And saw it smite, and you upon it tossed-
Oh! it was agony! and all seemed lost!
Never! The story, how shall tongue e'er tell
How gloriously ye saved in that dread fray,
The cause of Freedom, standing there at bay!
Look up! the sky grows brighter day by day:
O Army of the Cumberland, 'tis well!

E. H.

"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,
Near to the hot-bed of treason,
Five miles away from Charleston,
Amid the sands of James Island,
Swept by the tides of the ocean,
Is the Swamp Angel.

Can parrot,
With plumage as black as a raven,
And scream unlike her tropical sisters'-
A hundred-pounder, with terrible voice!-
Be called bird or angel?

She's for Freedom,
And Uncle Sam! synonymous terms;
An angel of vengeance and not of mercy,
Come to execute wrath upon the city
Whence sprang secession.

At night this angel raiseth her voice,
And her cry 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!

O ye who herd with traitors!-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 shut in the face of the North your door!

Hear ye in the Angel the Northern call,
Thundered on Sumter's broken wall,
Echoed in Charleston's silent street,
Shouted in Treason's proud retreat:

"Freemen must share with you the land!
Choose olive leaf-or blazing brand;
Choose peaceful Commerce' flag of stars,
Or rifled guns and monitors!

"By you were words of treason spoken,
By you the nation's peace was broken;
The first gun fired whose startling jar
Sent through the land the shock of war!

Hear truth by Gospel trumpet blown-
Shall ye not reap as ye have sown?
Thistles for thistles, tares for tares,
The whirlwind's breath-a rain of snares!

"The avenging Angel rides the blast-
You fired the first gun-we'll fire the last!"
T. N. J.

There

march, and in nowise essential to a direct assault.
There was a little bustle and disturbance in the galler-
ries; 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 with-
drew. The mass of the congregation, however, re-
mained in their places; and the man of God continued
his prayer. It was impressive in the extreme.
he stood, this exile preacher from the far South, with
eyes and hands raised to heaven, not a muscle or ex-
pression changed, not a note altered, not a sign of con-
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
Rebel, August 22.

CENTREVILLE, VA., August 25.-Captain Ned Gilling-tals and refugees from the bloody pathway of their lingham, 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 Allandale, 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 hun-fusion, excitement, or alarm; naught but the calm, dred 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 SHELLING OF CHATTANOOGA.

Elliot, the

VICTORY OR ANNIHILATION.-Doctor 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,

ONE of the most impressive scenes we have ever wit-had we been content to bear humiliation for ourselves nessed, 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

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? 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? 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 greasy 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 large 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 mourneth 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.

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 disciple 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 is 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. Jenny Wade, perished in the din of that awful fray, The old hero, Burns, still lives; the heroine, sweet and she now sleeps where the flowers once bloomed, and the perfume-laden air wafted lovingly over Ceme

tery Hill.

AN INCIDENT OF THE NEW-YORK RIOT.-"Mother, they may kill the body, but they cannot touch the soul!" 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. Before the battle, and while the National hosts were The young man, aged twenty-three, had been an invalid awaiting the assault of the traitor foe, Jenny Wade was for about two years, and was a confirmed consumptive. busily engaged in baking bread for the National troops. When the mob broke into the house they found him in She occupied a house in range of the guns of both arbed. They bore him into the street, and there, although mies, and the rebels had sternly ordered her to leave he had not raised a finger against them-indeed, was the premises, but this she as sternly refused to do. not able to do so-they beat him to death, hanged him While she was busily engaged in her patriotic work a to a lamp-post, cut his pantaloons off at the knees, cut Minie ball pierced her pure breast, and she fell a holy bits of flesh out of his legs, and afterward set fire to sacrifice in her country's cause. Almost at the same him! All this was done beneath the eyes of his widow-time a rebel officer of high rank fell near where Jenny ed 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.

NEGRO COURAGE AN INCIDENT AT CHARLESTON. The Newburgh Journal says that a private letter received from a member of the Tenth Legion, contains the following interesting passage:

Wade had perished. The rebels at once proceeded to time that was finished the surging of the conflict changprepare a coffin for their fallen leader, but about the ed 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 Burns was the only man of Gettysburgh who participated in the struggle to save the North from "The Tenth Connecticut (white) and Fifty-fourth Mas-invasion, while innocent Jenny Wade was the only sacsachusetts (black) were on picket. The rebels came rifice which the people of that locality had to offer on down at daylight with five regiments of infantry, one the shrine of their country. Let a monument be erectof cavalry, and two pieces of artillery, attacking our ed on the ground which covers her, before which the whole picket-line simultaneously. The Tenth Connec- pilgrims to the holy tombs of the heroes of Gettysburgh ticut being a small regiment, and somewhat detached can bow and bless the memory of Jenny Wade. If from the rest of the line, gave way almost immediately, the people of Gettysburgh are not able alone to raise firing but very few shots. Not so, however, with the the funds to pay for a suitable monument for Jenny darkeys. They stood their ground and blazed away Wade, let them send a committee to Harrisburgh, and until almost surrounded. One company of them was our little boys and girls will assist in soliciting subscripcompletely cut off from the rest and surrounded by a tions for this holy purpose. Before the summer sunrebel regiment formed in square. The poor niggers shine again kisses the grave of Jenny Wade; before plainly heard the rebel colonel give the order, "Take the summer birds once more carol where she sleeps in no prisoners!" and well knowing that that was equiv- glory; before the flowers again deck the plain made faalent to "Give no quarter," clubbed their muskets and mous by gallant deeds, let a monument rise to greet make a desperate effort to break the rebel lines, in the skies in tokens of virtue, daring, and nobleness.which they succeeded, with a loss of five killed and Harrisburgh Telegraph. 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

INCIDENTS OF 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