For the sunshine and rainfall enriching again Give thanks— For the Nation's wide table, o'erflowingly spread, Give thanks In the realms of the Anvil, the Loom, and the Plow, Whose the mines and the fields, to Him gratefully bow; His the flocks, and the herds, sing ye hill-sides and vales; On his Ocean domains chant his name with the gales. Give thanks Of commerce and traffic, ye princes, behold Brave men of our forces, Life-guard of our coasts, To your Leader be loyal, Jehovah of Hosts: Glow the Stripes and the Stars aye with victory bright, Reflecting His glory,-He crowneth the right. Give thanks Nor shall ye through our borders, ye stricken of heart, In the Domes of Messiah-ye worshiping throngs, And our Empire still keep the elect of His care. Our guilt and transgressions remember no more; Be the Banner of Freedom o'er All in the Land. Give thanks. ANECDOTES, INCIDENTS, AND PICTURES OF THE WAR. PART II. B Y the camp fires, on the march, and in the deadly struggles, there have been born many a stirring incident and interesting anecdote. These serve to illustrate the humors as well as the severities of war, and have their appropriate places in its history. Ofttimes a mere accident-ludicrous in itself, perhaps so far tells on the fortunes of war as to change the plans of a campaign, and bring success or disaster alike to individuals and armies; incidents, too, which in themselves at the time seem trifling, have made and unmade empires, and they also form a part of legitimate history as much as the story of a great battle in which thousands have perished. A child might have given direction to the incipient avalanche on the mountain's top, which in its thundering course down the valley no human agency could control; so the merest incident ofttimes gives direction to events, that in their onward march no barrier can stay. These brief pictures of the war and excerpts from its history will afford profitable as well as amusing entertainment for the leisure hours, which the busiest of us should have, not only for mental recreation and refreshment, but that we may learn of the exploits and humors attendant on the life of our brave boys in the field. THE SCOUT'S LAST MESSAGE. BY LIEUT. MAX MARTINGALE, U. S. A. SAMUEL COX was one of my bravest scouts. He enlisted at Memphis, Tenn., and was about twenty-six years of age, tall, and very powerful. He possessed a reckless nature, which would exhibit itself in a very short time, if he should chance to have nothing to do for several days; and in order to prevent this, I had to invent something for him to engage in When I said "reckless," I did not mean to insinuate that he was of that particular stamp which frequent bar-rooms, billiard-rooms, etc., and which are termed reckless by the public, nor do I mean that his recklessness itself was visible when he was idle, rather that a marked air of uneasiness pervaded his whole frame. He was always on the qui vive for a mission which would incur danger; and though young and partially inexperienced, yet he was "Sauviter in modo, fortiter in re." (Gentle in manner, but resolute in deeds.) I liked him, to say the least. I chose him to perform many daring deeds oftener than I did others, and of it he seemed conscious, although no look or word of pride ever escaped him. When preparing for a dangerous mission, he preserved that same nonchalant air, which was his peculiar characteristic; but let him once get into an exciting affair, and his eyes would sparkle, his broad bosom heave with intensity, while either his hands or his mouth would be twitching with a nervousness which were startling. Well, one warm afternoon during the month of August last, I chose Cox to accompany me upon a spying adventure along the banks of the Yazoo river. As there were two guerilla camps to be passed, we armed ourselves more fully than usual. Cox seemed to be in a sorrowful mood that afternoon; a depression of spirits was the cause to which I attributed it, and for some time thought no more of it. As night came on, we embarked in a small Indian canoe and proceeded up the river for several miles. The almost impenetrable darkness shielded us from observation, should any wandering guerilla happen to be around; and thus we paddled silently along until we reached the mouth of a small creek, five miles from our camp, and four from the rebel Col.'s. Here we landed, and commenced to pick our way cautiously forward through the dense underbrush and low woods which lined the river bank at that point. We proceeded in this manner for nearly three miles; but when the dusky figure of the rebel sentinel warned us that we were within a mile or less of the camp, we sank to our hands and knees, in order to approach him unawares. "I'll quietly shut off his wind, dress myself in his clothes, and when the corporal of the guard comes around, I'll slip into the camp, learn what I can, and then slip out. If you will remain here, I will return to this precise spot." So saying, Cox left me alone, while he crawled forward towards the unsuspecting sentinel. Hardly had he gone five rods ere he turned about and came back. 66 66 Lieutenant," said he, his usually clear voice choked with emotion, "if I fall in this errand, will you send these to my wife and child in Memphis?" and as he spoke, he drew a package from his bosom, and gave it to me. Something tells me that I will sacrifice my life in this mission; that a rebel ball shall cut short my existence in the end, and that my eyes shall behold my dear wife no more." "Don't go then, by all means," I replied, laying my hand upon his arm. "Let us return to camp. I am no man to force another to his death." "I know it, lieutenant," returned he, starting away again. "But this may all be imagination. Were I to know that by sacrificing my life to the knife of the savage, I would render my country any valuable service, God knows that I would do it in a minute;" and he was gone before I could reply. Noble man! Thy words were full of generous and noble |