FROM THE SOUTH TO THE NORTH. BY C. L. S. There is no union, when the hearts That once were bound together, Have felt the stroke that coldly parts All kindly ties forever. Then, oh! your cruel hands draw back, In peace, since it is proved we lack We cannot bear your scorn and pride, That have for years our patience tried- The yoke that you decree us; Oh, Southern sons are bold to dare, And Southern hearts courageous; Nor meekly will they longer bear Oppression so outrageous. We ask no favor at your hand- And none of your protection. We scorn your "proclamation." We were not first to break the peace We loved our banner while it waved To guard that sweet communion. Then-not till then-our voices rose There is no danger we could fear- Blockade her ports,-her seas shall swell And every breeze in anger tell Her wealth may fail-her commerce droop But mark you, if her pride shall stoop, The products of her fields will be Her banner may not always wave -Richmond Whig, May 13, REVERIES OF WAR. BY C. J. H. Mantle my heart with the damp, dark pall, Black as the midnight, and heavy as sin; Over my spirit let misery fall; Windows of hope, let no daylight in; Memory sink, and close out the tone Of olden days; or of treasured past, Light the great blaze of our wrongs alone; Into the scales let their weight be cast. Mantle my heart with the garb of steel; Sing her the songs of revenge and right; Iron of rage, through my veins may I feel Thy strength to flow with the crimson bright. Energy, wake! and courage, come! With stirring chant of camp and field, Blaze on the altars of hearts and home, Courage, and Honor, and Right, our shield. Mantle my heart in the soldier's attire, And in its scabbard my sabre loose; Breathe on my spirit thy hot breath, War! Fire my heart with thy honest pride; Shine in my face like a bright golden star, And muster the surge of the battle's tide. Mantle my heart with the garb of strength! The dawn of our noble peace shall break. The shadows are full, and the shade is strong; The graves of our manly fathers are seen, And their courage and honor can fill our song. The dead of the South drops its tears on the grave Where Washington, Jackson, and Clay repose; As fresh as the dew-drop, the honest and brave Will carry their virtues, or scatter their foes; The land of their love-of our hearts-is our pride, And we will stand by it and cherish its sod, Though we pour to protect it our hearts' crimson tide, And dying, will beg its protection from God. Mantle my heart with thy stern garb, War! Thrill through my veins with thy clarion tone! Like a "pillar of cloud," and a bright blazing star, Is the flag of our bold and our new nation thrown, The kind breeze of heaven will kiss its bright folds, And float them out grandly upon the pure air; It emblems the pride of many brave souls, And carries the incense of many a prayer. -N. O. Picayune. LAND OF THE SOUTH. BY A. F. LEONARD. AIR-"Friend of My Soul." Land of the South! the fairest land Proudly her hills of freedom stand, Land of the South! in brightest dreams, Men of the South! a free-born race, And guard their country's shrine. Through time is borne along; Fair of the South! rare beauty's crown Your vestal robes alike become Wives, mothers, daughters! every home Flag of the South! aye, fling its folds In cloudless glory wave. States of the South! the patriot's boast! 'Neath Heaven's approving smile. God of the South! protect this land And when we would its dying spark As through the world it flashes, Kentucky leans upon her arms, And on the future dawning, Heed not the starveling crew who hang A craven heart each traitor bears, And should they?-Know ye not the blood Then waken from thy nerveless sleep, Kentucky boys and girls have we From us ye may not take them; Sad-hearted will ye give them up, And for the foe forsake them? Oh, Tennessee, twin-sister, grieves It must not be !-Kentucky, come! To share what fate befalls thee. Come, ere the tyrant's chain is forged, -Memphis Appeal. AN incident occurred in the United States Marshal's office at San Francisco, Cal., which is too good to be lost. It is told on good authority, and is, doubtless, substantially correct. It is well known that there are several small models of ships in the Marshal's office, which have been ornamented with little secession flags about half the size of one's hand. They are made of paper, and colored with red and blue ink. One at the masthead of the largest ship bears the name of Jeff Davis, and the others are the ordinary three-striped rag, recently adopted as the ensigns of the Southern Slave Confederacy. On account of the display of these flags, the only public place in the city, we believe, the Marshal's office is a sort of privileged quarters for Secessionists, and nothing is more common than to hear secession talk there. This has been particularly the case since the news of the breaking out of war. The story goes, that while several gentlemen were sitting in the Marshal's office, attending to business, a big strapping fellow, all the way from South Carolina, with a revolver peeping out from under his coat-tail, strode into the place, with the air of a Tarquin, and exclaimed: "Well, at last, thank God! we've got these d-d nutmeg-selling, mackerel-catching, cod-livered Yankee sons of to come to taw. That's just what I've been wanting this many a day!—the nigger-thieving, psalm-singing abolitionists! We'll skin 'em out of their boots." The braggart had scarcely finished his tirade, when one of the gentlemen, Captain -, of the ship who was observed to be getting nervous, suddenly jumped up, and taking his place in front of the fellow, and shaking his fists, replied: Now, sir, I don't know you, and don't want to know you; but I suppose you designate me as one of those nutmeg-selling, mackerel-catching, cod-livered Yankee sons of I am captain of the ship and I want you to understand that I will not allow any man to use such language respecting me and my people in my presence. And if you don't recant, I'll whip you here and now. I see your pisPOETRY-45 tol, but I don't care for it. You have insulted me, sir, and you shall answer for it." The boaster, seeing the captain's determined bearing, and finding that he was in downright earnest, replied by saying that his remarks were general in their nature, and not by any means intended to apply to any particular person. Nothing was further from his purpose than to insult any person present, and particularly a stranger. To this the irate captain retorted: "The language, sir, is an insult to the American name, and I for one will not stand it from any living man. No one but a traitor and a coward can talk in that way. Retract it! retract it!" and with this he commenced advancing upon the Secessionist, who began weakening in the knees, and finally wilted, while Tarpaulin raked the traitor's fore and aft without mercy.-Sacramento (Cal.) Bee, April 29. CORPORAL TYLER, of the Massachusetts Sixth Regiment, when describing his experience in Baltimore, says he saw a man with three stones under his arm and one in his hand, pelting away at the troops, when he fired at him, and-to use Mr. Tyler's own language "The man dropped the bricks, and laid down." THE Charleston Mercury calls the Yankee troops, now threatening the South, "tin peddlers." It is true that the Yankees have, generally, in their visits South, peddled tin, but we guess they mean to peddle lead this time."-Louisville Journal. GREATLY DESCENDED MEN.-The son of LightHorse Harry Lec, of Revolutionary renown, commands the forces of Virginia. His chief aid is J. A. Washington, the only living representative of Washington. The great-grandson of Thomas Jefferson commands the Howitzer Battery at Richmond. A grandson of Patrick Henry is Captain of the Virginia forces. The descendants of Chief Justice Marshall are in the ranks and in command.—Erie (Pa.) Observer, May 25. THE house of the celebrated, bold-hearted, and outspoken Parson Brownlow, is the only one in Knoxville, Tenn., over which the Stars and Stripes are floating. A few days ago two armed Secessionists went, at 6 o'clock in the morning, to haul down the Stars and Stripes. Miss Brownlow, a brilliant young lady of 23, saw them on the piazza, and stepped out and demanded their business. They replied they had come to "take down them d-n Stars and Stripes." She instantly drew a revolver from her side, and presenting it, said, "Go on! I'm good for one of you, and I think for both!" "By the looks of that girl's eye, she'll shoot," one remarked. "I think we had better not try it; we'll go back and get more men," said the other. "Go and get more men," said the noble lady; get more men, and come and take it down, if you dare!" They returned with a company of ninety armed men, and demanded that the flag should be hauled down. But on discovering that the house was filled with gallant men, armed to the teeth, who would rather die as dearly as possible than see their country's flag dishonored, the Secessionists retired. When our informant left Knoxville, the Stars and Stripes still floated over Parson Brownlow's house. Long may they wave.-Chicago Journal. WE find this remarkable paragraph in the editorial columns of the Rochester Union :-" This great and long-standing conspiracy was well known in its outlines to Mr. Buchanan himself. We heard from his own lips, previous to his entering upon the duties of the Presidency, that he had been reliably informed (we think he said by Gov. Wise) that the officers of the army and navy had been polled on the question whether, in case of a rupture between the two sections of the Union, they would respectively go with the North or the South; and that nearly every Southern man answered he would adhere to the sec-| tion that gave him birth. Here we have proof not only that this conspiracy had assumed its present determinate shape five years ago, and only waited for opportunity; but that Mr. Buchanan was perfectly well aware of the fact at the very time when he took some of the leaders into his Cabinet; and when he was passively aiding Cobb, Floyd, Thompson, and Toucey, in their plans to cripple the Federal Government, and assure the success of the rebellion."Ohio Statesman, May 25. A CORRESPONDENT of the Boston Journal gives the following reminiscence of the attack upon the Massachusetts Regiment by the Gorillas of Mobtown:-"There was one man who carried himself so bravely while in the midst of danger, that something more than a passing notice should be taken of him. Two days before that Friday, the Sixth were gathered in front of the State-House, Boston, to hear the parting words of Gov. Andrew. At the end of his remarks, the Governor presented the regiment with a standard, telling them to see to it that no foe should ever take it from them. They received it with cheers, and swore to die in its defence. Poor fellows, they little thought then how soon their mettle would be tested. Well, when they got out of the cars at Baltimore, to march across the city, the colors were given to the breeze, and borne aloft in defiance of every foe. The standard-bearer, as noble a fellow as ever wore the uniform of the Old Bay State, was Timothy Crowley. His two aids were Sergeants Derril and Marland. Unused, as, indeed, all our soldiers were, to the rough usage of actual warfare, it would not have been strange if Crowley had shown some signs of fear. Indeed, he might have rolled up the colors, which would inevitably call down upon him the hatred of the vast and murderous mob. But Crowley was not made of such stuff. He had sworn to stand by his standard, and with him it was either succeed, or die in the attempt. Pistols were freely fired, but the company saw at their head that standard proudly leading them on. No one who has never been in the service can imagine how the colors of a regiment keep up its courage. So long as they are defiant, the company have light hearts; if they should be taken away, a strange distrust rans through the whole force. Well, the troops had lost their band; they did not have even a fife and drum; and 80 they kept their eyes fixed upon this standard. Tramp, tramp, tramp-left, left, left-the music of their own steady, measured tread-this was all they had. Crowley was the target for many a missile, for the mob knew that to disgrace the regiment, it was only necessary to down with the standard. Pavingstones flew thick and fast, some just grazing Crowley's head, and some hitting the standard itself, marks of which were shown us. And this shows the everlasting pluck of Crowley. One stone-my informant said it seemed as large as a hat-struck him just be tween the shoulders a terrible blow, and then rested on his knapsack. And yet Crowley did not budge. With a firm step he went on, carrying the rock on his knapsack for several yards, until one of the sergeants stepped up and knocked it off. And, said the chaplain, "Heaven only knows what our boys would have done if that standard had been taken; they never would have recovered from such a disgrace." Such a noble act, it seems to me, is worthy of record. Crowley showed himself a man. It was not that impulsive kind of action which we call brave; it was something better. The soldier who is only simply brave, stands only on the lowest round of the ladder of heroism. All men may be brave. Crowley was cool; he knew beforehand what the consequences might be; he reckoned all the chances. He showed true courage-an element of character which is Godlike; it was not impulse-it was real manliness."-N. Y. Tribune, June 8. THE DYING WORDS OF SENATOR DOUGLAS.-For a long time previous to his death, Senator Douglas had been in a semi-conscious condition. During the morning of his death his mind and energies rallied somewhat. Lying at apparent ease upon his bed, but with the mark of death upon his pale countenance, Mrs. Douglas, who sat, soothing him gently, by his bedside, painfully aware that the moment of final separation was approaching, asked him what message he wished to send to his sons Robert and Stephen, who were students at Georgetown. He answered not at first, and she tenderly repeated the question. "Tell them," he then replied with a full voice, and an emphatic tone, "Tell them to obey the laws and support the Constitution of the United States." Let these dying words be recorded upon the tablets of undying, unfading, and undecaying history. They were the last words of a great man's advice to his beloved boys; and let those who loved him, and have been moved by the cloquent words of his lips, take the advice to their own hearts, for their guidance in the hour when peril threatens the Republic, or disloyal influences are abroad in the land. A short time after, he desired to be raised, and his wish was complied with, so that he might look out from his window once more, upon that city which had loved and honored him so long. One of his friends expressed a doubt as to the case of his posi tion, when he simply replied, "He is comfortable." In his dying moments he faintly articulated, "Death, death, death," and his great soul passed away.Chicago Journal. Contraband NEGROES.-General Ashley, member of Congress from Ohio, writes to the Toledo (Ohio) Blade the following account of the reception of the "contraband" slaves at Fortress Monroe: "You will have heard, by the time this reaches you, of the manner in which Gen. Butler disposed of Col. Mallory, who came into the fort under a flag of truce, to claim three of his loyal slaves who had fled from his kind and hospitable roof, and taken shelter in Fortress Monroe among strangers. Who will say that General Butler, so far as he went, was not right? This Colonel Mallory had met General Butler in the Charleston and Baltimore Conventions, and with that impudence and assumption characteristic of the oligarchy, he came into General Butler's camp, and, though engaged in open treason against the Government, demands that he shall enforce the Fugitive Slave Law upon the soil of Virginia with United States soldiers, and return him his happy and contented slaves. "General Butler says, 'You hold that negro slaves are property, and that Virginia is no longer a part of the United States?' "The Colonél answered, 'I do, sir.' "General Butler then said, 'You are a lawyer, sir, and I want to know if you claim that the Fugitive Slave act of the United States is binding in a foreign nation; and if a foreign nation uses this kind of property to destroy the lives and property of citizens of the United States, if that species of property ought not to be regarded as contraband?' "This was too much for the Colonel, and he knocked under and withdrew. "This was but the beginning at Fort Monroe, and is but the beginning of a question which this Administration must meet and determine, viz., 'What shall be done with the slaves who refuse to fight against the Government of the United States, and escape from the traitors and come into our camps for protection?' If the Administration meets this question as it ought, well; if not, it will prove its overthrow. It is a question of more magnitude and importance than the rebellion itself; and woe to the public man or the party who proves false to the demands of humanity and justice. "On Sunday, eight more stout, able-bodied men came in. General Butler said to me, 'As you went to see John Brown hung, and have some claim to control Virginia volunteers, I authorize you to see who and what those colored men are, and decide what is to be done with them.' He added, 'You had better examine them separately, and take down in writing the material part of their answers.' "I told him that I did not know, but that we would not hurt them. "Oh, we knows dat,' quickly responded another; 'we knows you's our friends. What we wants to know is, whether you's gwine to send us back.' "I answered that I had no authority over them, and no power to do any thing, but that my opinion was it would be some time before their masters would see them again.' I said this in a low, conversational tone of voice, without noticing that all the volunteers were eagerly listening; but no sooner had the words fallen from my lips, than a hundred voices shouted, Good! good!' and some in laughter and some in tears clapped their hands and gave three rousing cheers, which brought out the officers and General, who supposed I had been making a speech to the troops. "This little incident tells me more plainly than ever, that what I said last winter in the House is true, when I declared that 'the logic of events told me unmistakably that slavery must die.' who said he was a Methodist class-leader, to tell me frankly whether this matter was well understood by all the slaves, and he answered me that it was, and that he had prayed for it for many, many long years.' "He said that their masters and all talked about it, and he added, Lor' bless you, honey-we don give it up last September dat the North's too much for us,' meaning, of course, that Mr. Lincoln's election was conceded even there by the slave masters, and was understood and hoped for by all the slaves. I asked the same man how many more would probably come into the fort. He said, 'A good many; and if we's not sent back, you'll see 'em 'fore tomorrow night.' "I asked why so, and he said, 'Dey'll understan', if we's not sent back, dat we're 'mong our friends; for if de slaveholder sees us, we gets sent right back.' And sure enough, on Monday about forty or fifty more, of all ages, colors, and sexes, came into camp, and the guard was bound to arrest them." THE capture of John B. Washington at Fairfax Court-House was a pleasant affair. As an infantry captain of the rebel force, he was prominent in the resistance to our cavalry, until a trooper rode up, caught him by the hair, lifted him bodily upon the pommel of his saddle, and, holding him in this position, charged twice through the town. Captain Washington complained bitterly, but, after having been lectured by Gen. Scott, he concluded to take the oath of allegiance, and was released. He is now with his family in this city. Capt. Washington is a son of the late Col. John A. Washington, who was lost overboard from the San Francisco. The Independent, June 6. HARDEE'S TACTICS.-Hardee was Chief of a Board to translate a system of Light Infantry Tactics from the French. Lieut. Bennett of the Ordnance did the work, every word of it; and Hardee's name was attached to the translation! He never, in all probability, saw or read one word of it, until called upon to study it for the purpose of learning how to drill the cadets at West Point, when appointed to command them. He was the Commandant of Cadets, not the Superintendent of the Institution, for four years. As a soldier, his reputation in the army was never above mediocrity; to science he never made any pretension; and if we put him down as a tolerable cavalry officer, full justice is done him. As to "Hardee's Tactics," that is a French book, translated by Lieut. Bennett-Hardee being President of the Board which adopted it for our service.-N. Y. Courier and Enquirer. NEW ORLEANS, May 1.-That the prospect is serious, we are not disposed to deny, but it contains nothing to dishearten or create alarm.__The South is unconquerable on her own territory. Her armies are not composed of hired mercenaries, nor of the wretched offscourings of great cities, who are forced to choose between enrollment and starvation. They are made up for the most part of the youthful, the vigorous, the intelligent and devoted children of the "If I had time and you the space, I would give in soil. The cause we fight for is deemed sacred, and their own words the material portion of the answers if its justification should demand the services of of the most intelligent slaves. There is one thing every able-bodied citizen, not one will be found to certain; every slave in the United States under-flinch from the ordeal. We may have many sacristands this rebellion, its causes and consequences, far better than ever I supposed. I asked one old man, fices to make, much suffering to endure, many precious lives to lose, much pecuniary and commercial |