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My small weak hand would waver

The shortest sword to bear;
But he stands steady in the ranks,

And holds his musket there.
My faint heart would falter

The battle-ground to see ; But his is strong in freedom's might,

He fights for her and me.

Above the hero write,

The young, half-sainted: His country asked this life,

His life he gave.

I am watching and waiting,

As mothers watch and wait, Whose sons are in the army now,

And it is growing late. My life's past its morning,

It's near sunset in the skyOh! I long once more to clasp him

In my arms before I die.

THE TRUE FLAG OF PEACE. The battle is ended, the cannon is still, The flag we defended waves out on the hill; Around us are lying the children of God The dead and the dying-their pillows the sod; But the flag on the hill, to us that remain, Its glory shall thrill to fight for again ; Then up from your trenches with sabre and gun, The fire that quenches the rays of the sun Streams out from the Blue of the flag on the hill, And tempers the hue of the battle-red rill.

Yet farther off the army goes

He will return no more,
Till our glorious flag is free again

To float o'er sea and shore.
Where'er it waved in days gone by,

Its folds again shall rest, From the depths of the lowest valleys,

To the highest mountain crest.

| The smoke of the battle is yet in the sky,

The musketry rattle meets not with reply ;
Pale faces, and ghastly, upturned to the day-
Mark ye, how fastly the life ebbs away.
Our Father! in pity, look out from above,
Look down from yon City of Mercy and Love,
And deal with us kindly, pour oil on the flood,
Nor let us walk blindly in by-ways of blood;
Our country, our duty, our banner unfurled,
The emblem of beauty, the pride of the world.

And he, my boy, my darling,

The pride of my old heart ! Where'er his place may be, I know

He will fulfil his part. Not until the war is over

Shall we meet in fond embrace. Time, press swiftly on the hours,

Till I see his pleasant face !

The battle is ended, but not the good fight;
The flag we defended is yet in our sight;
There are traitors behind us and traitors before us,
But the flag of mankind is with us and o'er us;
None other we know, none other shall lead us.
Strike, freemen, the blow, that nations may heed us!
'Tis the flag of our heart, in steel let us wear it,
And hold it apart from hands that would tear it';
There's love in its hue, and its stars shall increase-
The Red, Wbite, and Blue is the true flag of peace.

B. S. W.


The following lines were picked up in the street. They appear to be an attempt at parody on that other attempt of "Bingen on the Rhine."

Breathe, trumpets! breathe

Slow notes of saddest wailing; Sadly responsive peal,

Ye muffled drums ! Comrades, with downcast eyes

And muskets trailing! Attend him home

The youthful warrior comes. Upon his sbield,

Upon his shield returning, Borne from the field of honor

Where he fellGlory and grief, together clasped

In mourning, His fame, his fate,

With sobs exulting tell.

Wrap round his breast

The flag his breast defendedHis country's flag,

In battle's front unrolled ; For it he died

On earth for ever ended, His brave young life

Lives in each sacred fold.

A soldier, filled with Burbon, lay puling in the street, From battle-field es-ca-ped, with swiftly running feet; He'd fallen from too much “strychnine," and drowned

all gallant schemes, And got as far as possible from Richmun on the Jeems! And one there lay beside him, his comrade in the

flight; They had been boon companions, and frequently got

tight; And side by side they lay there, indulging maudlin

dreams, Far from the Libby prison and Richmond on the

Jeems! One said : Old feller, tell me, what think you of this

war, Made by the boastin' rebels, our prosp'rous peace to

mar? Are Lee and Stonewall Jackson such thunderation

teams, As to keep us out of Richmun, ole Richmun on the

Jeems ?

With proud, fond tears,

By tinge of shame untainted, Bear him, and lay him

Gently in his grave :

Say, do you think that Hooker — they call him

"Fighten Joe"Who 'fore the War Committee run down McClellan

80 Will he cross the Rappy-hannick, and carry out his

schemes, And take us down to Richmun, upon the river


His 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!

Why, when I left old Kaintuck, just eighteen months

ago, My mam and sister Ruby both said 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

the Jeems!

Yet you have many a traitorous fool,

Kentucky! O Kentucky! Who still will be the rebels' tool,

Kentucky! O Kentucky! They'll learn to yield to Abram's rule In none but Johnny's costly school, At cost of every animule,

Kentucky! 0 Kentucky!


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.

You know, through tribulation, we marched on, night

and day, Through woods, and mud, and dusty roads, and fight

ing in the fray ; By smoke-houses and chicken coops, and where the

biler steems, Which cooked our hard-earned rations tow'rd Rich

mun on the Jeems. And, now we're going homeward-me and the other

scamp, Yet, far from old Kentucky, we are obleeged 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


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! GREAT CENTRAL Fair, June 16, 1864.

--Daily Fare, Philadelphia.

To hell with old Phiginny, and all her sacred sile ! 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!

THE BAYONET CHARGE. Hark to the batteries disputing in thunderShell over tree-top and shot rattling under, Noisily cover the path of the foe

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 bayonets

charge !"

- 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

bang! 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.

Am I less brave for a moment's quick shiver ? Hearts of oak yonder bear light leaves that quiver. I look down the line-there's a lip turning white, Set the firmer for that; there are fixed, gazing

eyes Intent upon something, but not on the fight; There's a swift glance flung upward to pierce the

blue skies.

KENTUCKY! O KENTUCKY ! John Morgan's foot is on the shore,

Kentucky! O Kentucky! His hand is on thy stable-door,

Kentucky! 0 Kentucky ! 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! 0 Kentucky!

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 an.

other, “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!

For feeding John you're paying dear,

Kentucky! O Kentucky!

For fame do I fight? Lord of hosts, does not he And would'st take the life we are fighting for, Who battles for right ever battle for Thee !

For the sake of a poor dead bird ?" There are graves trodden level that love seeks in vain,

The eagle's circuits, in slow descent, Held in honor by angels. Alike in thy sight

Came nearer, day by day, The poorest who carves for the red stripes their

Till one morn he sat on the ridge of the tent, stain,

Where a wounded soldier layAnd the leader who falls in the van of the fight.

No more, whose right arm clasped a maid,

No more, whose left a gun,
They are coming—they come! Shifting sunbeams And no more the eagle's shadow played

Between him and the sun.
Their way through the leaves by the glitter of steel ;
They swarm to the light, through the tree boles

He folded his heavy wings, and slept
they swarm

On the ridge of the sick boy's tent, Out from the forest aisles, lofty and large.

Or with fasting eye his vigils kept Our Colonel turns pale, drops his beckoning arms,

On all that came and went. But hark, boys, the order: “Fix bayonets

Do you wonder that soon as the soldier stirred charge !"

Forth for the air and the sun,
On his shoulder perched the fierce, grim bird,

Ere its strength could bear his guu?

And when, once more, he proudly marched Poised in the azure depths of air,

To a soldier's pains and joys, In bis home so near the sun,

The eagle sat on his shoulder perched, Like one, just brought in being there,

'Mid the Eighth Wisconsin boys; And whose flight had not begun

And now where the wave of battle flows, And he knew not whether his home to seek

And its deathly flashes gleam, In that dazzling world of light,

And on their ranks the foemen close, Or glide far down to some snowy peak

Till their blood and their banners stream . Of bleak Nevadian height

In mass confused and mingled flow, An eagle's slowly moving wing

And shell or shrapnel sings Lingered between the sun

Its terrible whistling song of woe, And a boy, whose right arm clasped a maid,

The eagle flaps his wings, ** While his left one held bis gun;

And the flash of his fierce, majestic eye
And the proud bird's shadow nerved his heart,

Outshines the bayonet's gleam;
Though he knew not whence the power;

And over the soldiers' battle-cry,
But he felt there came the strength to part,

· And the hiss of the shells that scream, And the courage for the hour.

And the roar of the fierce artillery,
The roll of the stirring drum came clear,

Rises the eagle's cry,
The bugle's blast came sbrill,

As if the Genius of the Free
The eagles shone on bis dark blue coat,

Inspired his voice and eye.
And the eagle shadowed him still;

The brave Wisconsins hear that cry
And proudly his bayonet flashed that day

And auswer with shout and cheer, On the scenes of his early joys,

“ 'Tis the voice of the Genius of Liberty," As he grasped his gun and marched away

And they fight on without fear. With the Eighth Wisconsin boys.

Thus from the banks of far Osage,
And proudly the regiment trod the street,

To Chickamauga's shore-
As it swept from town to town,

'Mid Donelson's relentless rage, And still on its waving standard sheet

And Vicksburgh's thundering roar-
A shadow unnoticed came down;

On many a conquered battle-field,
Now its ranks are filled, and it moves along

Unshadowed by defeat-
On the swift and crowded train-

As State by State the foemen yield,
Now pauses amid the hurrying throng,

From field and fort retreat-
Or speeds o'er the sounding plain.

The Eighth Wisconsin marches on,
No longer the eagle in eyrie rests,

By danger undeterred,
But his straining flight doth keep,

* A correspondent of the Iroqua (Wis.) Times gives the folAs he follows the train o'er the sounding plain,

| lowing, among other particulars, relative to the eagle of the Or the keel through the foaming deep-

Eighth Wisconsin regiment, which the soldiers have named Till when, 'mid the wilds of the rude frontier, "Old Abe :" The Eighth are guarding the line,

" When the regiment is engaged in battle, Old Abe manifests

the fiercest delight. At such a time he will always be found in They observe his wheeling circuits near

his appropriate place, at the head of company D. To be seen The top of a distant pine.

in all his glory, he should be seen when the regiment is envel

oped in the smoke of battle. Then the eagle, with spread pin“Come, now for a shot at him. Who's afraid ions, jumps up and down on his perch, attering such wild, fear.

ful screams as an eagle alone can utter. The fiercer, wilder. To bring down the eagle ?" said one.

and louder the storm of battle, the fiercer, wilder, and louder But the boy on whose right had leaned the maid the scream of the eagle. Twice Old Abe has been hit by seces. While his left arm held bis gun,

sion bullets; one shot carried away a third part of his tail-fea

thers. He is a universal favorite, and has been carried with the Cried : “Hold! would'st thou fight in a holy war,

regiment through seven States. Thousands flock to see him. And its creed hast thou not heard,

I and he is fast becoming famous,"

And one of them bears on his right a gun,

Or with Kearny and Pope 'mid the steelly storm, On his left the noble bird.

As the night closed in, that coat he wore.
And his dream by night is a vision sweet,

The blue great-coat, etc.
Of a far Wisconsin glade,
Where he meets with his first and last retreat, Or when right over, as Jackson dashed,
Outflanked, right and left, by a maid.

That collar or cape some bullet tore;
Or when far ahead Antietam flashed,
He flung to the ground the coat that he wore.

The blue great-coat, etc.

Or stood at Gettysburgh, where the graves
The following ballad is from the pen of Bishop Burgess, of

Rang deep to Howard's cannon roar;
Maine, and was contributed by him to the book published and
sold at the Sanitary Fair in Baltimore, under the sanction of the Or saw with Grant the unchained waves
State Fair Association of the women of Maryland:

Where conquering hosts the blue coat wore.

The blue great-coat, etc.

That garb of honor tells enough,
You asked me, little one, why I bowed,

Though I its story guess no more; Though never I passed the man before ?

The heart it covers is made of such stuff, Because my heart was full and proud

That coat is mail which that soldier wore.
Wben I saw the old blue coat he wore.

The blue great-coat, etc.
The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat,
The old blue coat the soldier wore.

He may hang it up when the peace sball come,

And the moths may find it bebind the door; I knew not, I, what weapon he chose,

But his children will point, when they hear a drum, What chief he followed, what badge he wore;

To the proud old coat their father wore.
Enough that in the front of foes

The blue great-coat, etc.
His country's blue great-coat he wore.
The blue great-coat, etc.

And so, my child, will you and I,

For whose fair home their blood they pour, Perhaps he was born in a forest hut,

Still bow the head, as one goes by Perhaps he had danced on a palace-floor; .

Who wears the coat that soldier wore. To want or wealth my eyes were shut,

The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat,
I only marked the coat he wore.

The old blue coat the soldier wore.
The blue great-coat, etc.
It mattered not much if he drew his line

REBEL PRISONERS IN OH0,--The following account
From Shem or Ham, in the days of yore;
For surely he was a brother of mine,

of the treatment of rebel prisoners in the Ohio PeniWho for my sake the war-coat wore.

tentiary was given in the Richmond Examiner of

Marsh seventeenth, 1864:
The blue great-coat, etc.

The experiences of this war have afforded many exHe might have no skill to read or write,

amples of Yankee cruelty which have produced an imOr he might be rich in learned lore;'

pression more or less distinct upon the enlightened But I knew he could make his mark in fight, portions of the world. But the statement which we And nobler gown no scholar wore

proceed to give, takes precedence of all that has ever Than the blue great-coat, etc.

yet been narrated of the atrocities of the enemy; and

it is so remarkable, both on account of its matter and It may be he could plunder and prowl,

the credit that must naturally attach to its authorship, And perhaps in his mood he scoffed and swore; that we doubt whether the so-called civilized world of But I would not guess a spot so foul

this generation has produced anywhere any well-auOn the honored coat he bravely wore.

thenticated story of equal horror. The blue great-coat, etc.

The statement we give to our readers is that we

have just taken from the lips of Captain Calvin C. He had worn it long, and borne it far;

Morgan, a brother of the famous General Morrin, who And perhaps on the red Virginian shore,

arrived in Richmond under the recent flag of fruce, From midnight chill till the morning-star,

which covered the return of several hundred of our That worn great-coat the sentry wore.

prisoners. Captain Morgan was among those of his The blue great-coat, etc.

brother's expedition who, in last July, were incarcerat

ed in the Penitentiary of Ohio. On entering this in. When hardy Butler reined his steed

famous abode, Captain Morgan and his companions Through the streets of proud, proud Baltimore,

were stripped in a reception-room and their naked Perhaps behind him, at his need,

| bodies examined there. They were again stripped in Marched he who yonder blue coat wore.

the interior of the prison, and washed in tubs by The blue great-coat, etc.

negro convicts; their hair cut close to the scalp, the Perhaps it was seen in Burnside's ranks,

brutal warden, who was standing by, exhorting the When Rappahannock ran dark with gore;

negro barber to “cut off every d- d lock of their Perhaps on the mountain-side with Banks,

rebel hair.” After these ceremonies, the officers were In the burning sun no more he wore

locked up in cells, the dimensions of which were The blue great-coat, etc.

thirty-eight inches in width, six and a half feet in

length, and about the same in height. In these nar. Perhaps in the swamps was a bed for his form, | row abodes our brave soldiers were left to pine, brand

From the seven days' battling and marching sore, ed as felons, goaded by “convict-drivers," and insulted

by speeches which constantly reminded them of the said they had already been taxed to the point of death. weak and cruel neglect of that government, on whose The wretch replied: “They did not talk right yet.” behalf, after imperilling their lives, they were now suf- He wished them to humble themselves to him. He fering a fate worse than death. But even these suffer- went into the cell of one of them, Major Webber, to ings were nothing to what was reserved for them in taunt him. “Sir," said the officer, “I defy you. You another invention of cruelty without a parallel, unless can kill me, but you can add nothing to the sufferings in the secrets of the infernal.

you have already inflicted. Proceed to kill me; it It appears that after General Morgan's escape, sus- makes not the slightest difference.” picion alighted on the warden, a certain Captain Meri- At the expiration of sixteen days the men were reon, who, it was thought, might have been corrupted. To leased from the dungeons. Merion said "he would alleviate the suspicion, (for which there were really no take them out this time alive, but the next time they grounds whatever,) the brute commenced a system of offended they would be taken out feet foremost." devilish persecution of the unfortunate confederate Their appearance was frightful; they could no longer prisoners who remained in his hands. One part of the be recognized by their companions. With their bodies system was solitary confinement in dungeons. These swollen and discolored, with their minds bordering on dungeons were close cells, a false door being drawn childishness, tottering, some of them talking foolishly, over the grating so as to exclude light and air. The these wretched men seemed to agree but in one thing food allowed the occupants of these dark and noisome - ravenous desire for food. places was three ounces of bread and half a pint of “I had known Captain Coles," says Captain Morwater per day. The four walls were bare of every gan, “as well as my brother. When he came out of thing but a water-bucket, for the necessities of nature, his dungeon, I swear to you I did not know him. His which was left for days to poison the air the prisoner face had swollen to two or three times its ordinary breathed. He was denied a blanket; deprived of his size, and he tottered so that I had to catch him from overcoat, if he had one, and left standing or stretched falling. Captain Barton was in an awful state. His with four dark, cold walls around him, with not room face was swollen, and the blood was bursting from the enough to walk in to keep up the circulation of his skin. All of them had to be watched, so as to check blood, stagnated with the cold, and the silent and un- | them in eating, as they had been starved so long." utterable horrors of his abode.

Captain Morgan was so fortunate as to obtain & Confinement in these dungeons was the warden's transfer to Johnson's Island, whence, after being carried sentence for the most trivial offences. On one occa to Point Lookout, he was exchanged. IIe says that sion, one of our prisoners was thus immured because when “he got into Beast Butler's hands, he felt as if he refused to tell Merion which one of his companions he had been translated to Paradise"-showing what had whistled, contrary to the prison rules. But the comparative things misery and happiness are in this most terrible visitation of this demon's displeasure oc world. But he left in those black walls of captivity curred not more than six weeks ago.

he had been released from, sixty-five brave men, who Some knives had been discovered in the prisoner's are wearing their lives away without even a small cells, and Merion accused the occupants of meditating whisper of relief from that government for which they their escape. Seven of them, all officers, and among are martyrs. them Captain Morgan, were taken to the west end of Is there any authority in Richmond that will crook the building and put in the dark cells there. They a thumb to save these men, who are not only flesh of were not allowed a blanket or overcoat, and the ther- our flesh, but the defenders of those in this capital, mometer was below zero. There was no room to pace. who, not exactly disowning them, undertake the base Each prisoner had to struggle for life, as the cold be and cowardly pretence of ignoring their fate ? numbed him, by stamping his feet, beating the walls, What is the confederate definition of “retaliation”? now catching a few minutes of horrible sleep on the Captain Morgan says that on his way down the bay, cold floor, and then starting up to continue, in the to Fortress Monroe, he met Colonel Streight; that this dark, his wrestle for life.

famous "hostage” was fat and rubicund; that he “I had been suffering from heart-disease,” says spoke freely of his prison experience in Richmond, and Captain Morgan. “It was terribly aggravated by the complained only that he had to eat corn-bread. This cold and horror of the dungeon in which I was placed. appeared to be the extent of his sufferings, and the I had a wet towel, one end of which I pressed to my confederate limit of retaliation. Is it necessary to preside; the other would freeze, and I had to put its sent the contrast further than we have already done, frozen folds on my naked skin. I stood this way all by a relation of facts at once more truthful and more night, pressing the frozen towel to my side, and keep- terrible than any argument or declamation could posing my feet going up and down. I felt I was strug- sibly be? gling for my life.” Captain Morgan endured this confinement for eigh

COLONEL MOSBY OUTWITTED. teen hours, and was taken out barely alive. The other prisoners endured it for sixteen days and nights. In Colonel Mosby, the guerrilla chief, has become fathis time they were visited at different periods by the mous, and his dashing exploits are often recorded to physician of the penitentiary-Dr. Loring—who felt our disadvantage; but even he meets with his match their pulses and examined their conditions, to ascer- occasionally. tain how long life might hold out under the exacting On Friday, March twenty-fifth, 1865, Captain E. B. torture. It was awful, this ceremony of torture, this Gere, of the Griswold Light Cavalry, was sent out with medical examination of the victims. The tramp of the one hundred and twenty-five men to the neighborprisoners' feet up and down, (there was no room to hoods of Berryville and Winchester on a scout, and walk,) as they thus worked for life, was incessantly encamped at Millwood, some six or eight miles from going on. This black tread-mill of the dungeon could the former place. be heard all through the cold and dreary hours of the After the men had got their fires built, Sergeant night. Dr. Loring, who was comparatively a humane Weatherby, of company B, Corporal Simpson, of person, besought Merion to release the unhappy men; company II, and a private, went some two miles from

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