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So, Virginia, sound your clarion,
From your serried ranks of war!
Fall in line with State of Marion,

And your glittering falchion draw!

For the banner which once floated
Over Freedom's native land-
Flag, to which you are devoted,
Is borne by a tyrant's band.

Save, oh, save it from pollution, Though your noblest sons fall dead!

Save it, though in revolution

All its stars with blood be red!

Then, with "Southern Cross " emblazon
Its blue field in colors bold,
So that we may proudly gaze on
Fifteen clustering stars of gold.

-Richmond Enquirer.

TO THE TORIES OF VIRGINIA.

"I speak this unto your shame."

In the ages gone by, when Virginia arose

Her honor and truth to maintain,

Her sons round her banner would rally with pride, Determined to save it from stain.

No heart in those days was so false or so cold,
That it did not exquisitely thrill

With a love and devotion that none would withhold,
Until death the proud bosom should chill.

Was Virginia in danger? Fast, fast at her call,
From the mountains e'en unto the sea,
Came up her brave children their mother to shield,
And to die that she still might be free.

And a coward was he, who when danger's dark cloud Overshadowed Virginia's fair sky,

Turned a deaf, careless ear, when her summons was heard,

Or refused for her honor to die.

Oh! proud are the mem'ries of days that are past,
And richly the heart thrills whene'er
We think of the brave, who, their mother to save,
Have died, as they lived, without fear.

But, now, can it be that Virginia's name
Fails to waken the homage and love

Of e'en one of her sons? Oh! cold, cold must be
The heart that her name will not move.

When she rallies for freedom, for justice, and right,
Will her sons, with a withering sneer,
Revile her, and taunt her with treason and shame,
Or say she is moved by foul fear?

False, false is the heart that refuses to yield
The love that Virginia doth claim;
And base is the tongue that could utter the lie,
That charges his mother with shame.

A blot on her 'scutcheon! a stain on her name!
Our heart's blood should wipe it away;
We should die for her honor, and count it a boon,
Her mandates to heed and obey.

But never, oh, never, let human tongue say
She is false to her honor or fame!

She is true to her past-to her future she's true-
And Virginia has never known shame.

Then shame on the dastard, the recreant fool, That would strike, in the dark, at her now; That would coldly refuse her fair fame to uphold, That would basely prove false to his vow.

But no! it cannot-it can never be true,
That Virginia claims one single child,
That would ever prove false to his home, or his God,
Or be with foul treason defiled.

And the man that could succor her enemies now,
Even though on her soil he were born,

Is so base, so inhuman, so false, and so vile,
That Virginia disowns him with scorn!

-Richmond Examiner, May 18.

LIEUT. GREBLE'S GALLANT CONDUCT AT GREAT BETHEL.-The Philadelphia Inquirer has details of the part borne by Lieut. Greble in the Great Bethel affair. It is printed verbatim from the rough notes of a friend of Lieut. Greble, who kindly furnished them for the purpose:

As soon as the confusion arising from the mistake (the cross firing) was over, Gen. Pierce ordered the troops to advance. No scouts were thrown out, nor were troops aware of the vicinity of the enemy's batteries until they came within their fire. Lieut. Greble was ordered to unlimber his gun. He advanced, firing his gun alternately, until he came within two hundred yards of the masked battery of the rebels.

Soon after the firing commenced, he was left alone with his original command of eleven men, in an open road, the volunteers having retreated before the telling fire of the rifled cannon.

He worked his guns until he had silenced all those of the enemy, except one rifled cannon.

The Zouaves made a demonstration, and only desired permission to storm the fort, but no general officer was seen from the commencement of the action, and 1,500 were kept lying on the ground, for an hour and forty minutes, waiting for a command.

Lieut. Greble stood the brunt of the action for two hours; he was begged by several officers to retreat, but he refused. Lieut. Butler asked him at least to take the same care of himself that the rest did, and dodge. He replied, "I never dodge, and when I

Will they tell her her glories have fled, or grown hear the notes of the bugle calling a retreat, I shall pale?

That she bends to a tyrant in shame?
Will they trample her glorious flag in the dust,
Or load with reproaches her name?

Will they fly from her shores, or desert her in need?
Will Virginians their backs ever turn
On their mother, and fly when the danger is nigh,
And her claim to their fealty spurn?

retreat, and not before." The enemy made a sortie. Lieut. Greble said to Capt. Bartlett, who was standing alongside of him, "Now, Charley, I have something to fire at, just see how I will make them scamper." He immediately loaded with grape, and fired, when the enemy at once retreated behind their intrench

ment.

Seeing himself left entirely alone, with five men at his own gun, he turned to Corporal Peoples, and said,

"All he could do would be useless-limber up the gun and take it away." At this moment a shot struck him on the left temple. He immediately fell, and his only exclamation was, "Oh! my gun!" The same ball went through the body of another man, and took the leg off a third.

Throughout the firing he had sighted every gun himself, and examined the effect of every shot with his glass. It was remarked by his own men, that every ball was placed in the very spot that he aimed for. The men say that he exhibited the same coolness that he would on parade.

The enemy did not come out again until the Federal troops had been withdrawn a half hour.

Lieut. Greble did not spike his gun, but kept it charged in preparing to withdraw his command. The sergeant spiked it after the lieutenant was killed.

THE Mobile Tribune proposes "Cousin Sally" as a pet name for the Confederate States. The name is rather effeminate, but then her male fire-eating cousins could very appropriately be called Sally-manders. -Louisville Journal, June 17.

REPUDIATION.

'Neath a ragged palmetto, a Southerner sat,
A-twisting the band of his Panama hat,
And trying to lighten his mind of a load,
By humming the words of the following ode:
"Oh! for a nigger! and oh! for a whip;
Oh! for a cocktail! and oh! for a nip;
Oh! for a shot at old Greeley and Beecher !
Oh! for a crack at a Yankee school-teacher !
Oh! for a captain! and oh! for a ship;
Oh! for a cargo of niggers each trip!"
And so he kept oh-ing for all he had not,
Not contented with owing for all that he'd got.

-N. Y. Tribune, June 17.

MEMPHIS, TENN., June 6.-John Beman is the name of the watchman on the steamer Morrison, who was hung near Mound City. He was a native of Norway, came to this county in 1811, and lived in Boston, where he has children. He was first examined by a committee, was proven to have said that he hoped Lincoln would come down the river and take every thing; that he would die rather than live in the Southern States, and much more of the same sort, that it is needless to repeat. The committee proposed to forgive him if he would take an oath to support the Southern States. He indignantly repelled the proposition, and said he would die first. Finding that he was determined and malignant, they threw a rope over the limb of a tree, and strung him up 25 feet, where he was hanging last night.-Memphis (Tenn.) Bulletin, June 7.

THERE are many little incidents illustrating the love displayed by some for the power under which they have been nurtured from the cradle to the present time, and gives some assurance that all will soon be well. One incident so reminded me of the spirit of the women of '76, that I must relate it. It may be that you have heard it before, but it will bear repetition:

It appears that when Captain Armstrong was about to surrender the yard at Pensacola, his daughter, after vain endeavors to persuade him not so to act, demanded of him a dozen men, and she would protect the place until aid came; but no-he was a traitor in his heart, and must so act; the dear old flag was

hauled down from where it had so long waved, and the renegade Renshaw run his sword through it, venting his spleen upon the flag which had so long kept him from starvation. Human nature could not stand it, and the brave woman, seizing the flag, took her scissors and cut from it the Union, telling them that the time was not far distant when she would replace it unsullied; but for the stripes, she left them as their legacy, being their just deserts.-Phila. Press.

A HEROINE.

June 10.-A short time since, Mr. Harry Robins, from Illinois, settled with his family in York county, near York River, Va. A few weeks since he was waited upon by a company of secessionists, and accused of entertaining views friendly to the Union.

After heaping insults upon him, and threatening him with violence, the rebels quitted the place. For two days, however, parties were seen lurking about the place, and at last Mr. Robins, not feeling safe, managed to make his escape to Fortress Monroe, and claimed protection from Gen. Butler, which was cordially granted.

On the day of the engagement at Bethel, Mr. Robins took his place in the ranks, acted as a guide, and did the duty of a soldier on the field in the thickest of the fight on that occasion, hoping, as he said, "We might be able to get far enough up into the country to enable him to get his family; " but he was doomed to be disappointed, as the retreat cut off all hopes of accomplishing his object.

On the night of the 11th inst., Mrs. Robins, finding her house was still watched, and that Col. Magruder, at Yorktown, had offered a thousand dollars reward for her husband, dead or alive, and that it was the intention of the rebels to take her and her three little children to Yorktown and incarcerate them in the jail, fled from the house. For two nights she slept under a bridge, and on the second night, about two o'clock in the morning, while her children lay under the bridge asleep, she sallied out and succeeded in finding a small boat, into which she put her three children, and, with the aid of her little boy, only twelve years of age, succeeded in rowing across the York river, a distance of three-fourths of a mile, against a strong current.

On landing, she made her way to the house of a Mr. Phillips, whom she found to be the rankest kind of a secessionist. Knowing her company, she was suddenly taken with an implacable hatred to the Northern Yankees, and finally left her warm secession friends without being suspected.

She then made her way through the woods, a distance of some seven miles to Fortress Monroe, and laying down on the sand on the beach, with her children, she slept until daylight, and then reported herself to Gen. Butler.

In passing through the woods, she had to take one of her little children and carry it on a piece, and lay it down, and then go back for the other-the little boy keeping watch over the little one while his mother went ahead with the other.

Mrs. Robins reports that there are about thirty thousand men between Yorktown and Big Bethel; that several companies had come down from Richmond to assist the rebels in case of another attack upon Big Bethel.

Her statement about the number of the troops between Yorktown and Big Bethel is also corroborated by the flag of truce which was sent out by Col. Dur yea to look after the dead and wounded which were

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FLAG-RAISING AT FORT CORCORAN.

ARLINGTON HEIGHTS, May 30.-The Sixty-ninth New York regiment, having transplanted their flagstaff from Georgetown College to their new camp on Arlington Heights, celebrated the raising of the Stars and Stripes. Near sun-set, Col. Corcoran having assembled all the troops, numbering over thirteen hundred, not on duty, he introduced Col. Hunter, of the Third Cavalry U. S. Army, who has just been assigned the command of the brigade of the aqueduct, consisting of the Fifth, Twenty-eighth, and Sixty-ninth New York regiments, and the detachments in the vicinity. Col. Hunter was received with great enthusiasm, and Col. Corcoran made some patriotic allusions to the Flag, and was loudly cheered. Capt. Thos. F. Meagher, having been called upon, made a brief but high-toned and patriotic address, showing the devotion Irishmen should bear to that flag which brought succor to them in Ireland; and to which, upon landing in this country, they swore undivided allegiance. He was heartily applauded throughout.

Col. Corcoran, having announced that Mr. Savage's new national song would be sung, introduced the author, who was received with loud cheering. After it subsided, he sung the following, the whole regiment present joining in the choruses:

THE STARRY FLAG.

A NATIONAL SONG, BY JOHN SAVAGE.
AIR-" Dixie's Land."

Oh, the Starry Flag is the flag for me!
'Tis the flag of life! the flag of the free!
Then hurrah, hurrah!

For the Flag of the Union!
Oh, the Starry Flag, &c.
We'll raise that starry banner, boys,
Hurrah, hurrah!

We'll raise that starry banner, boys,
Where no power in wrath can face it!
On town and field,
The people's shield,

No treason can erase it!

O'er all the land

That flag must stand,

Where the people's might shall place it.

That flag was won through gloom and woe!
It has blessed the brave and awed the foe!
Then hurrah, hurrah!

For the Flag of the Union.
That flag was won, &c.

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We must keep that flag where it e'er has stood,
In front of the free, the wise, and the good;
Then hurrah, hurrah!

For the Flag of the Union!

We must keep that flag, &c.
We'll raise that starry banner, boys-
Hurrah, hurrah!

We'll raise that starry banner, boys,
On field, fort, mast, and steeple !
And fight and fall,

At our country's call,
By the glorious flag of the people!
In God, the just,

We place our trust,

To defend the flag of the people.

The effect of some fourteen hundred voices thundering forth the refrain, was one of the most exciting and inspiriting we have ever witnessed. At the close the utmost enthusiasm prevailed, and three cheers for John Savage were given. Lieut.-Col. Nugent, Lieut. E. K. Butler, and Father T. J. Mooney, the popular chaplain of the Sixty-ninth, by song and sentiment contributed to the enjoyment of the occasion.— National Intelligencer, June 1.

If the impending war be the most ruthless ever waged, the consciences of our enemies must bear the guilt of the anguish, and misery, and blood. Their course from the beginning of the great movement has been marked by the meanest arts, the hugest falsehoods, the most indecent abuse, the harshest accusations. They have exhausted their cunning by diplomatic trickery, stultified themselves by absurd reasoning, excited contempt by the long views they have persistently taken of high questions, and envenomed hatred by the cool avowal of purposes as base as they are bloody. The feelings now raging fiercely in the bosom of every Southerner have been blown into a tempest by the untold insults, indignities, and wrongs, inflicted since we severed the ties that bound us to despotism and disgrace. Not content with refusing to concede rights guaranteed by the Constitution, they make the tyranny more odious by de

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My father and mother were members of the old Garden street Reformed Dutch church."

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"Do you know Jim Irving, of your regiment? "What! the old comrade of the worst fighters of the city?-he and Orville Gardner at their head? I guess I know him."

"What sort of a man is he in the camp?"

"His is the most beautiful Christian character I ever saw. I never saw any thing like it." "Does he drink rum?" "Not a drop."

ception and perfidy. They force upon us the alter-
native of resistance, and because we placed our flagquired.
where theirs once waved, they rush to arms and
threaten us with extermination. At first, when gnash-
ing their teeth over their miserable discomfiture, they
affected a beautiful sentiment. The symbol of their
grandeur and greatness had been lowered at the com-
mand of a foe they had taunted with weakness and folly.
Swollen with pride, infuriate with passion, and embol-
dened by the eager rush of numbers to their capitol,
they have ceased prating about the honor of their Gov-
ernment; they no longer make specious appeals to pa-
triotism, but, ignoring these high and potent motives,
they address brute passions, and deliberately concoct
and propose schemes which would shock and disgust
savages. Their brutal soldiery are to possess our
fair fields; one class of our population are reckoned
upon as allies in the execution of their fiendish pur-
poses; Louisiana is to be conquered by letting in
upon her the waters of the Mississippi, and the victors
are to prey upon the virtue of our wives and daugh-
ters. These are the motives and objects loudly pro-
claimed by the gathering hordes.

Fierce will be the coming strife. Steel, and lead,

and iron will be clothed with all their murderous power. The sword will drink its full of blood. Victory will be slaughter.-Charleston Courier, May 16.

A WONDERFUL CONVERSION.-The New York Ob

server of this week, in its report of the daily Fulton street Prayer-meeting, states facts which we presume will be new to a great many readers in this city. The report runs:

One day the meeting was near closing, when a man in the uniform of an officer of the army arose and said: "I cannot let this meeting close without saying a word. I came home from the battle-field at Bull Run injured, and saved from instant death as almost by a miracle. I was in the battle of the 21st of July, and in the thickest of the fight, and such were the circumstances of my escape, that I was led to think on my ways. I have been a wicked man. When there was any wickedness going on, I was sure to be foremost in it. Coming home wounded, I had time to ask myself why I had been spared. I was struck down by a squad of the Black Horse cavalry. I never expected to get away alive."

The witness goes on to relate his religious experience, and implore the prayers of the faithful. The writer says:

After the meeting, we asked some of the particulars of his peril and deliverance. He said: "I was surrounded by the Black Horse men, and two of them seized me, one on each side laying hold of me, and running at full gallop about half a mile, when both were shot, and fell from their horses dead. A Black Horse man, galloping behind me, gave me a severe blow in the back-intended to kill me-which brought me to the ground. The whole of the troop were on the retreat, and many galloped over me, and I was injured by the hoofs of the horses; but, blessed be God, I was spared."

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"Does he attend prayer-meetings?"
Always will have one going."
"Where is he now?"

"In prison at Richmond, because he considered it
his duty to stand to the last, and he was taken."
"Did you know he was accustomed to attend these
meetings?

"I have often heard him speak of these meetings with the profoundest delight. If Jim Irving is not a changed man, I do not know who is. Not a man in the regiment could be found who does not know him and does not believe him to be a Christian."

James Irving was once a notoriously wicked man in this city, and became, by the grace of God, a most interesting Christian-a meek, humble, modest man as to his spirit, but of towering strength as to the mortal part, and, before going to the army, almost daily in the prayer-meeting.-N. Y. Tribune.

"E PLURIBUS UNUM."

We have received the following noble, fervid, and patriotic lyric for publication, from its author, Rev. John Pierpont. It proves that the unwearied fire of genius still glows, undimmed by age, in the soul of an honored American poet, whose first production was published half a century ago. Mr. Pierpont is 76 years old, and his poem has the "spirit of "76." As regards mere age, however, time practices on us a deception in regard to him; for his form seems to grow more erect, his gait more vigorous, his mind more vivid and creative, as he advances in years. The soul of youth

breathes and burns in his verse, and animates his his frame. Indeed, he promises in body to survive even the literary reputation of many of his younger contemporaries; and the hyperbole of good feeling, "may he live a thousand years," is not so extravagant a wish in respect to him as it is to others.Boston Transcript.

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Oh! sad and slow the weeks went by; each held his anxious breath,

Like one who waits, in helpless fear, some sorrow great as death.

Oh! scarcely was there faith in God, nor any trust in man,

While fast along the Southern sky the blighting shadow ran.

It veiled the stars, one after one; it hushed the patriots' song;

And stole from men the sacred sense that parteth right and wrong.

Then a red flash-the lightning across the darkness broke,

And with a voice that shook the land, the guns of Sumter spoke :

Wake! sons of heroes, wake! the age of heroes dawns again;

Truth takes in hand her ancient sword, and calls her loyal men.

Lo! brightly o'er the breaking day shines Freedom's

holy star,

Peace cannot cure the sickly time. All hail, the healer, War!

That call was heard by Plymouth rock; 'twas heard in Boston bay;

Then up the piny streams of Maine sped on its ringing way;

New Hampshire's rocks, Vermont's green hills, it kindled into flame;

Rhode Island felt her mighty soul bursting her little frame:

The Empire City started up, her golden fetters rent, And, meteor-like, across the North, the fiery message sent;

Over the breezy prairie lands, by bluff and lake it ran, Till Kansas bent his arm, and laughed to find himself

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For

Oh!

you, the sluggard's brain is fire; for you, the coward bold.

daughter of the bleeding Past! Oh! hope the prophets saw !

God give us Law in Liberty, and Liberty in Law!

Full many a heart is aching, with mingled joy and pain,

For

those who go so proudly forth, and may not come again;

And

many a heart is aching for those it leaves behind,

As a thousand tender histories throng in upon the mind.

The old men bless the young men, and praise their bearing high;

The women in the doorways stand to wave them bravely by.

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