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You and I will take the carriage,

With the rising of the sun, And we'll spend a day, or longer,

With the soldiers in their camps, Taking stores that best may shield them

From the chill November damps.
Oh, I'll cheer them on to battle-
And I'll stir each lofty soul,
As I paint the fields of honor

Where the drums of glory roll!
And I'll bid them never falter,

While there's treason still abroad, In this battle of the Nation,

For our Union, and for God.

XII.

One who fought upon the Wabash
By Joe Daviess when he fell,
And who bled at Meigs with Dudley,

Where we met the hosts of hell; One who fought with Hart at Raisin, And with Johnson on the Thames, And with Jackson at New Orleans,

Where we won immortal names, Will be listened to with patience

By the heroes now at hand, Who have rushed on to our rescue, In this peril of the land. By the memory of our fathers,

By the brave, and by the just, This rebellion shall be vanquished, Though each traitor bite the dust!

SONGS OF THE REBELS.

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A CALL TO KENTUCKIANS. BY A SOUTHERN RIGHTS" WOMAN.

Sons of Kentucky, arise from your dreaming! Awake, and to arms! for the foe draweth nigh; Must ye wait till our land with their legions are teeming,

Ere ye rise in your might to battle or die?

Oh, list to the wail from Missouri's heart coming,
As trampled and bleeding she shrinks from the foe;
Oh, such is our fate if thus ye lie sleeping;

Then wake from your slumbers, and shield us from

woe.

The spirits of those who in battle have fallen,
Are weeping in shame at your cowardly fear;
The watchword of fiends hath already been given
To crush and destroy all your loved ones so dear.

Has the day gone fore'er, when 'twere nobler to be
A son of Kentucky than diadems wear?
Be ye cowards and slaves? Are ye no longer free,
That thus with your traitorous tyrants ye bear!

Then rise in your might, and repel each invader,

Nor let our loved land be disgraced by their tread; Let the watchword be, "Freedom and States' Rights forever!"

Nor cease till each foe shall lie low with the dead. LOUISVILLE, KY., June 24, 1861.

SOUTHERN WAR-SONG.

BY "N. P. W."

To horse! to horse! our standard flies,
The bugles sound the call;

An alien navy stems our seas-
The voice of battle's on the breeze;
Arouse ye, one and all!

From beauteous Southern homes we come,
A band of brothers true,
Resolved to fight for liberty,
And live or perish with our flag-
The noble red and blue.

Though tamely crouch to Northern frown, Kentucky's tardy train;

Though invaded soil, Maryland mourns, Though brave Missouri vainly spurns,

And foaming gnaws the chain.
Oh! had they marked the avenging call
Their brethren's insults gave,
Disunion ne'er their ranks had mown,
Nor patriot valor, desperate grown,
Sought freedom in the grave.

Shall we, too, bend the stubborn head,
In Freedom's temple born?-

Dress our pale cheek in timid smiles, To hail a master in our house,

Or brook a victor's scorn?

No! though destruction o'er the land
Come pouring as a flood;
The sun that sees our falling day,
Shall mark our sabre's deadly sway,
And set that night in blood!

For gold let Northern legions fight,
Or plunder's bloody gain;

Unbribed, unbought, our swords we draw,
To guard our homes, to fence our law,
Nor shall their edge be vain.

And now that breath of Northern gale
Has fanned the stars and bars,

And footstep of invader rude,
With rapine foul, and red with blood,
Us rights and liberty debars.

Then farewell home, and farewell friends;
Adieu each tender tie;
Resolved, we mingle in the tide,
Where charging squadrons furious ride,
To conquer or to die.

To horse! to horse! the sabres gleam;
High sounds our bugle call;
Combined by honor's sacred tie,
Our word is, Rights and Liberty!
March forward, one and all!

-Louisville Courier.

SONG ON GEN. SCOTT.

BY N. B. J****.

TUNE-" Poor Old Horse, Let Him Die"

Virginia had a son,

Who gathered up some fame;

He many battles won,

And thereby won a name;

But now he's growing old,

And nature doth decay,
Virginia she does scold,
And all can hear her say,
Poor old Scott, let him die.

He is old, and very mean, sir;

He is dull, and very slow; And it can now be seen, sir, He still does meaner grow;

He is not fit to fight,

Nor will he ever pray;
Then kick him out of sight,
And let Virginia say,
Poor old Scott, let him die.

The sound of his war-whoop
No one again will hear;
In dread laps he his hasty soup,
With hell-fire in his rear;
I had rather be a hog,

And wallow in the mud,
Than be old Lincoln's dog,
Or be his warrior stud.

Poor old Scott, let him die.

I had rather be a dog,

And bay the stars and moon;
I had sooner be a frog,
With a dungeon for my doom,
Than to be poor old Scott,

To fill a traitor's grave,
And there in silence rot,
Without a soul to save.
Poor old Scott, let him die.
-Richmond Dispatch, Aug. N.

ANOTHER YANKEE DOODLE.

Yankee Doodle had a mind

To whip the Southern traitors, Because they didn't choose to live On codfish and potatoes. Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo, Yankee Doodle dandy;And so, to keep his courage up, He took a drink of brandy.

Yankee Doodle said he found,

By all the census figures,
That he could starve the rebels out,
If he could steal their niggers.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy;-
And then he took another drink
Of gunpowder and brandy.

Yankee Doodle made a speech;
'Twas very full of feeling:

"I fear," says he, "I cannot fight,
But I am good at stealing."
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy;-
Hurrah for Lincoln-he's the boy
To take a drop of brandy.

Yankee Doodle drew his sword,
And practised all the passes;
"Come, boys, we'll take another drink
When we get to Manassas."
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy ;-

They never reached Manassas' plain,
And never got the brandy.

Yankee Doodle soon found out
That Bull Run was no trife;
For if the North knew how to steal,
The South knew how to rifle.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy;—
""Tis very clear, I took too much
Of that infernal brandy."

Yankee Doodle wheeled about,

And scampered off at full run; And such a race was never seen, As that be made at Bull Run. Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo, Yankee Doodle dandy ;"I haven't time to stop just now To take a drop of brandy."

Yankee Doodle, oh! for shame; You're always intermeddling;

Let guns alone, they're dangerous things;
You'd better stick to peddling.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,

Yankee Doodle dandy;-
"When next I go to Bully Run,
I'll throw away the brandy."

Yankee Doodle, you had ought
To be a little smarter;
Instead of catching woolly heads,
I vow you've caught a tartar.
Yankee Doodle, doodle-doo,
Yankee Doodle dandy ;-
Go to hum-you've had enough
Of rebels and of brandy.
-Richmond Whig.

RETRIBUTION.-There was an instance of just retribution for treason at Rich Mountain. The Hon. John Hughes, of Beverley, a member of the Virginia Secession Convention at Richmond, heard by some means that our troops were endeavoring to turn the flank of the rebels. He mounted a horse and sped up the hill rapidly, to carry the information to Col. Pegram. When near the summit he was hailed by pickets. Supposing they were Federal pickets, he cried out, "Hold, I am a Northern man." The next instant he fell into the road a corpse, riddled by thirty balls. He had lied, and his own friends, the rebels, whom he was striving to save, believing they were his enemy, put an end to his career.-Louisville Journal, Aug 1.

THE slaves who run away from their masters in Virginia, are set to work at once by Gen. Butler, and made to keep at it, much to their annoyance. One of them having been put to it rather strong, said, Golly, Massa Butler, dis nigger never had to work so hard before; guess dis chile will secede once moah."-Ohio Statesman, Aug. 2.

46

FEMALE CAVALRY COMPANY.-A cavalry company, composed of young ladies, has recently been formed at Pittsfield, Mass., under the name of "Di Vernon Phalanx." Miss Pinkie Pomeroy is the Captain, and Miss Anna Kipp is the Lieutenant.-Providence Journal, Aug. 2.

A GENEROUS OFFER.-The following notice, signed by a planter in moderate circumstances, has been posted up in the streets of Benton, Ala. It is a generous offer, and we presume will be promptly responded to:-"For the comfort of our army, who are now keeping from our firesides an unnatural and unrelenting enemy, headed by old Abe Lincoln, any family in Benton, or within one mile of my residence, who will knit me six pairs of socks suitable for the army, I will haul and deliver to them two cords of good wood. I will deliver in Benton 100 cords of firewood for 300 pairs of army socks. The tradespeople who need wood, can swop their goods for socks, and get wood in pay for them, and give the girls a chance for a nice calico dress these hard times. This is a gratuity to the army."-Memphis Appeal, Aug. 3.

PRAYER-BOOKS AND SCALPING-KNIVES.-The following letter, picked up by an officer of Gen. Cox's staff, on the ground from which Governor Wise's troops fled, shows the affecting tone of true piety that runs through all the Confederate operations :

"WAY UP ON THE HILL, below Charleston four miles. "MAT. :-I want you to put every thing in the sergeant's room-every thing that belongs to us. And if there is any engagement, break my little trunk open, and take out my Bible and prayer-book, and those Boone County bonds, and save them for me. I have not read my Bible for sixteen years, but I want them saved. Cook all the provender up there, and put all our cooking utensils together in the sergeant's room. The news is that the enemy is coming up on both sides of the river in a d-d strong force. I am the second company to have a shot. The orders are to scalp all we get near to.

"J. W. M. SHERRY, "Captain of Boone Rangers."

-Phila. Bulletin, Aug. 2.

THE WAR AMONG THE FARMERS.-The Dutch Reformed church near the English Neighborhood, in Bergen County, N. J., was the scene of some little excitement on the 4th of July. The church is located in the midst of a wealthy farming population, which supplies New York with no small share of its best fruit and garden vegetables. It has been the custom to ring the bell in the old church on the 4th of July, but on the late occasion the farmers declared it should not be rung. But a man and a woman, (a widow,) who live next to the church, declared it should be rung. This declaration brought the farmers in force to the church on the morning of the 4th, when a sharp word-battle took place between the one man and the widow on one side, and the farmers on the other. The latter declared that "the bell should never be rung on the 4th of July again, until the North has repented of the wicked and abominable abolitionism which has destroyed the union of our country." The widow declared, that if she could only get hold of the key, and get into the belfry, she "would knock any man down who should attempt to stop her from ringing the bell." But she did not get the key, and the church was kept fast locked the whole day. The incident is valuable as indicating the drift of public thought among the intelligent and non-political farmers of the country.Mobile Advertiser, Aug. 2.

A GOOD SAMARITAN.-Private Job H. Wells, of Company C, was lost in the confusion of the troops at the battle of Bull Run. He got into the woods, and soon after the moon was shut in by a cloud. He wandered till he came to a rye field, where he encamped for the night. Tired and exhausted, he soon fell asleep, but awoke in the morning cold and hungry. He determined to make for a house he saw at a distance, and risk the consequences. He dragged his weary, stiffened limbs along, in a terrible uncertainty as to the reception he should meet with. Arriving at the house and entering, he was heartily welcomed by the lady occupant, who gave him a sofa to rest upon, and in the mean time directed her servants to prepare breakfast. The table was liberally supplied, and our friend told to be seated. The lady was a stanch Unionist, and declared that the National troops were welcome to whatever she had. She said that on the march out, some of the troops stopped at her place and took several ducks; these she cared nothing about, and if they had taken much more they would have been welcome. If they had not broken up her setting hens, she would not have said a word. The good lady did not like to lose her next year's flock. Soon after breakfast, a troop of seces

sionists came in sight. The lady put Mr. Wells in a
rear room, while she conversed with some of them.
She feigned great ignorance of what had been going
on, and learned from them the route they were going.
After they had gone, Mr. Wells inquired how he was
to get away.
"That is easy enough," replied the
matron; "trust to me." She ordered one of her
servants to saddle a horse and bring it to the door.
She then brought out a long overcoat, and told him
to put it on. The pockets were liberally supplied
with delicacies to serve him on the way. The horse
was brought to the door, when the lady told Mr.
Wells that the horse was at his service, and would
safely carry him through. Said she, "Take the
horse, and go to Washington. You may leave him
with my son "-giving his name and residence. "If
a secessionist meets you, shoot him; if there is
more than one, shoot the first, and trust to the horse
for the other, for he will soon carry you out of dan-
ger." Mr. Wells mounted the horse, and safely
reached Washington. He left the horse as directed,
and was welcomed by the son as he had been by the
mother.

While Mr. Wells was waiting, a Unionist of the vicinity came into the house, and said he was about to leave for Washington; that he had sent his family over, and had stayed behind to see if it was possible to save any thing. The lady asked him if he had any money. He said he had not. She then went up stairs, and returning with a purse of silver, gave it to the gentleman, remarking, “Take this; you may as well have it as the secessionists. They have already divided my property, and apportioned it among themselves; but the first man that makes the attempt, I shall shoot."

Doubtless there are many such noble women in Virginia and elsewhere, who are now suffering daily and nightly through fears of the force and violence of the secessionists. It is for these we fight, as well as ourselves. Let the remembrance of this fact nerve our arms for the conflict, and impel us to speedily give them deliverance.-Providence Journal, Aug. 2.

THE secessionists in Kentucky, who have formed themselves into a regiment, are described as a savage set, who delight to keep every one in terror around them, and consider it a pleasure to chop up a man with an Arkansas tooth-pick. The wife of one of them, who is also a vivandiere, is a thorough soldier, and acts as lieutenant to a company which she drills herself. She is very handsome, and dresses in gay style, and the men all take pride in their dashing heroine, who expressed herself anxious to split a Yankee with her bowie-knife.-Albany Standard, Aug. 1.

SOME REASON LEFT.-In the case of the schooner Crenshaw, tried in the U. S. District Court, at New York, Daniel Lord, an eminent lawyer, took the position that the schooner and the cargo could not be condemned as a prize, because Abe Lincoln had usurped powers not belonging to him, in declaring war without authority of Congress. This reveals two facts-that there is some reason left in the North, and that there must be many who coincide with Mr. Lord, else he would not be allowed to utter such wholesome truths.-N. O. True Delta, Aug. 1.

WHITTIER AND THE ALABAMA PLANTER.-On Monday, the New England Poet, John G. Whittier, passed a few hours here on the way to his lovely

home on the banks of the Merrimac, whence he has given to the world so many ringing lyrics and striking poems, stirring the blood like the blast of a trumpet, redolent of the airs of freedom, or tender with the emotions of friendship, charmingly descriptive of New England home life, or graphically enbodying our quaint local legends and sturdy histerical traditions. He returns from a brief visit to the Wachusett Hills, improved in health, to resume his pen, we trust, and add still further to the rich stores of American literature which he has already adorned so much. Mr. Whittier manifests a deep interest in the cause of the country, and watches with an anxious eye the course of events. We have heard, on reliable authority, an incident with which he was connected, resulting in a singular interview.

The story is substantially this: A few months ago he met with an Alabama planter in Boston, who cipressed a desire to converse with him, and an interview took place, during which there was a free interchange of views. The planter frankly acknowledged that there was in the South a strong feeling of Late toward the North and Northern men, and they were determined to fight. He explained how this feeling was fostered by the politicians of the South, and how the feelings of the North were represented there, and stated that almost is sole object in coming to Boston was to ascertain for himself whether the facts were as they had been represented. He was evidently surprised to find the anti-slavery poet “so mild a mannered man," and confessed that, generally, he did not perceive that the feeling of the North toward the South was so bitter and unfriendly as be had been led to expect. He had experienced nothing but civility and courtesy, and admitted that Southerners generally received the same treatment.

Finally, Whittier, after attending him to some of the desirable places of resort, told him that, as be was now here, he might as well see the worst of the anti-slavery phase of Northern fanaticism, as the fashionable phrase is, and proposed to visit Garrison. The planter consented, and so they turned their steps to the Liberator office, where they found Garrison, Wendell Phillips, and Fred. Douglass, and there they enjoyed a "precious season of conversation." Would it not have been a sight worth seeing-that conclave in the Liberator office, with Garrison, Whittier, Phillips, Douglass, and the Alabama planter, in the foreground? The planter went to his home a wiser, and perhaps a sadder man, than he came, and protested that all he could do, while mourning for the condition of the country, was to pray over it. Would that more of the Southern people might come and see for themselves how basely the North has been belied!— Salem Register, Aug. 29.

GEN. PILLOW'S CHAIN CABLE.-Parson Brownlow says:-" Previous to Gen. Pillow being superseded by Bishop Polk, he went to New Orleans and procured a huge chain cable, costing him $25,000, and brought it to Memphis to blockade the river, by stretching it over and resting it upon buoys. The cable, carriage, and work, cost about $30,000. The first big tide that came, bringing down the usual amount of trees, logs, and drift wood, swept the cable and its supporters, as any flat-boat captain would have informed the Confederate authorities would certainly be the case.-N. Y. Commercial, Aug. 3.

TIME TO LEAVE.-One of the "contraband," who has found his way to Boston with the returning

troops, and who is some fourteen years old, relates the pictorial papers should be severely talked to for his experience on the battle-field as follows:-"Ye giving representations of our military works and see, massa, I was drivin' an ambulance, when a mus-operations, he seemed to think that they could be ket-ball came and kill my horse; and den, pretty safely left alone, as quite as likely to confound as to soon the shell came along, and he blow my wagon instruct the enemy.-N. Y. Commercial Advertiser, all to pieces-and den I got off!"-Boston Journal. Aug. 7.

SAFE, BUT NOT COMFORTABLE.-In the battle at Bull Run, a soldier around whom the cannon shot were flying particularly thick, on seeing one strike and bury itself in a bank near him, sprang to the hole it had scooped out, remarking, "Shoot away! you can't hit twice in the same place." At the instant another shot struck at a few feet distance, almost covering the fellow with sand and gravel. Emerging from what had so nearly become his grave, he continued the unfinished sentence, "But you can come so pesky near it that the first hole is uncomfortable."-V. Y. World, Aug. 13.

PATRIOTIC.-The Pine Bluff (Ark.) News tells this: An old man of about seventy, with snowy beard and hair, but hale and stout, hearing that none would be received in the service over forty-five, was so anxious to enlist, that he went down to the barber's shop, and had his hair and beard dyed black, and came out looking quite fresh and young, and will not acknowledge to more than forty now. He is one of the boys, and we venture to say will do as much service as any of them."

The News also records this noble act:-"A young lady near this place, who is a teacher by profession, and who depends entirely upon her profession for support, gave to the Withers Arkansas Rangers, as her offering upon the altar of her country, $125, earned by her own labor."-N. O. True Delta, Aug. 1.

PIERRE SOULE.-A correspondent of the Boston Journal states that Pierre Soule is a good Union man, and that nothing but the "enormous depreciation of his extensive property in real estate deters him from coming North."

A WORD FOR THE 69TH N. Y. REGIMENT.-An article in the Memphis (Tenn.) Argus closes thus:"No Southerner but feels that the 69th maintained the old reputation of Irish valor, on the wrong side through misguidance, and not through treachery to the old cause; and not one of us but feels that the day must come when a true understanding of the principle at issue will range their fearless hearts in line with their brethren of the South.

"All honor to the 69th, even in its error."

EX-PRESIDENT TYLER (member of Congress) has been detained at his estate in Charles City County, by illness. We are glad to hear, however, that he is convalescent, and although in bed when the news was read to him of the glorious victory achieved by our troops on the field of Manassas, he called for champagne, and made his family and friends drink the health of our generals.—Richmond Enquirer.

GEN. MCCLELLAN AS A WIT.-The Washington Star, speaking of Gen. McClellan's interview with the "press brigade," last week, says:—

Gen. McClellan is not fluent of speech apparently, and doubtless doesn't care to be. That there is some little quiet fun in his composition, was apparent at the interview; and on the suggestion being made that

"BULLY FOR YOU."-The word Bull is destined to become famous in this war. If our men did run from Bull Run, we have now an offset in the fact that the rebels, under Gen. Henry A. Wise, did also run from Bull's Town. So we now have Bull against Bull, and the bully of Accomac is the set-off, who set off so bravely to do what he could not accomplish. "Bully for you."

There was a man of Accomac,

And he was bully Wise;
He jumped into Kanawha's bush,

And scratched out both his eyes;
And, when he saw he lost his eyes,
With all his might and main,
From Kanawha he quickly flies,
To brag, and-run again.
-National Republican, Aug. 5.

WAR INCIDENTS.-An old lady of Johnstown, Cambria County, Pa., had an only son, a strapping minor, to whom she was sincerely attached. This lad was induced to join a corps from the mountains, and, hoping to deceive the old lady, he invented some plausible tale, and came away. The love of the mother was, however, too great to be deceived, and after a week had elapsed, the true story was revealed to her. She started upon the railroad with a bundle and a small sum of money, and walked to Harrisburg alone, a distance of more than one hundred and fifty miles. At Harrisburg she took the train, and her money brought her to Downington, where she again resumed her tramp, and turned up, much to the lad's astonishment, at Camp Coleman, near Frankford. There the old lady, utterly wearied out, fell sick, and the men, hearing of the case, made up a collection, and provided her a bed and attendance in the neighborhood. But her strength revived with her anxiety, and she proceeded to the railroad with the boy, and kissed him a good-bye at the cars, with the tears falling over her cheeks.

A soldier of one of the returned companies, encamped in the suburbs of Martinsburg, Va., relates the following melting incidents:-Shortly after the arrival of the regiment, the squad messing in a certain tent near a dwelling, were listeners to most beautiful music. The unknown vocalist sang in tones so soft, so tremulous, and so melodious, that the volunteers strained their ears to drink in every note of the air. In daytime they went by squads past the dwelling, but saw no soul. Once they pursued a sylph-like figure to the very gate, but alas! she was not the lady sought for. And so they lived on, each night hearing the music repeated, and when it ceased, ambition and worldly interest went out with them, so that their dreams were filled with fancies of the unseen face.

One night, gathered together, the voice struck up again.

By Jove!" said one, "this is agonizing. I can't stand it. She must be discovered!

A dozen eager voices took up the remark, and a certain amorous youth was delegated to reconnoitre the place. He crept on tip-toe toward the dwelling,

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