The right hand vapor broader grew;
It ruse, and joined itself unto
The main cloud with a sudden dash.
Loud and more near the cannon's crash
Came towards me, and I heard a sound
As if all bell had broken bound-
A cry of agony and fear.

Still the dark vapor rolled more near
Till at my very feet it tossed,
The vanward fragments of our host.
Can man, Thy image, sink so low,
Thou, who hast bent Thy tinted bow
Across the storm and raging main;
Whose laws both loosen and restrain
The powers of earth, without whose will
No sparrow's little life is still?
Was fear of hell, or want of faith,
Or the brute's common dread of death
The passion that began a chase
Whose goal was ruin and disgrace?
What tongue the fearful sight may tell?
What horrid nightmare ever fell
Upon the restless sleep of crime-
What history of another time-
What dismal vision, darkly seen
By the stern-featured Florentine
Can give a hint to dimly draw

The likeness of the scene I saw ?
I saw, yet saw not. In that sea,
That chaos of humanity,

No more the eye could catch and keep
A single point, than on the deep
The eye may mark a single wave
Where hurrying myriads leap and rave.
Men of all arms, and all costumes,
Bare-headed, decked with broken plumes;
Soldiers and officers, and those
Who wore but civil-suited clothes;
On foot or mounted-some bestrode
Steeds severed from their harnessed load;
Wild mobs of white-topped wagons, cars,
Of wounded, red with bleeding scars;
The whole grim panoply of war
Surged on me with a deafening roar !
All shades of fear, disfiguring man,
Glared through their faces' brazen tan.
Not one a moment paused, or stood
To see what enemy pursued.

With shrieks of fear, and yells of pain,
With every muscle on the strain,
Onward the struggling masses bore.
Oh! had the foemen lain before,
They'd trampled them to dust and gore,
And swept their lines and batteries
As autumn sweeps the windy trees!
Here one cast forth his wounded friend,
And with his sword or musket-end
Urged on the horses; there one trod
Upon the likeness of his God
As if 'twere dust; a coward here
Grew valiant with his very fear,
And struck his weaker comrade prone,
And struggled to the front alone.
All had one purpose, one sole aim,
That mocked the decency of shame,
To fly, by any means to fly;

They cared not how, they asked not why
I found a voice. My burning blood
Flamed up. Upon a mound I stood;
I could no more restrain my voice
Than could the prophet of God's choice.

"Back, animated dirt!" I cried,
"Back, on your wretched lives, and hide
Your shame beneath your native clay !
Or if the foe affrights you, slay
Your own base selves; and, dying, leave
Your children's tearful cheeks to grieve,
Not quail and blush, when you shall come,
Alive, to their degraded home!
Your wives will look askance with scorn;
Your boys, and infants yet unborn,
Will curse you to God's holy face!
Heaven holds no pardon in its grace
For cowards. Oh! are such as ye
The guardians of our liberty?
Back, if one trace of manhood still
May nerve your arm and brace your will!
You stain your country in the eyes
Of Europe, and her monarchies !
The despots laugh, the peoples groan;
Man's cause is lost and overthrown!

I curse you, by the sacred blood

That freely poured its purple flood

Down Bunker's heights, on Monmouth's plain,

From Georgia to the rocks of Maine!

I curse you, by the patriot band

Whose bones are crumbling in the land!

By those who saved what these had won!-
In the high name of Washington!"
Then I remember little more.

As the tide's rising waves, that pour
Over some low and rounded rock,
The coming mass, with one great shock,
Flowed o'er the shelter of my mound,
And raised me helpless from the ground.
As the huge shouldering billows bear,
Half in the sea and half in air,
A swimmer on their foaming crest,
So the foul throng beneath me pressed,
Swept me along, with curse and blow,
And flung me-where, I ne'er shall know.

When I awoke, a steady rain
Made rivulets across the plain;
And it was dark-oh! very dark.
I was so stunned as scarce to mark
The ghostly figures of the trees,
Or hear the sobbing of the breeze
That flung the wet leaves to and fro.
Upon me lay a dismal woe,
A boundless, superhuman grief,
That drew no promise of relief
From any hope. Then I arose
As one who struggles up from blows
By unseen hands; and as I stood
Alone, I thought that God was good,
To hide, in clouds and driving rain,
Our low world from the angel train
Whose souls filled heroes when the earth
Was worthy of their noble birth.
By that dull instinct of the mind
Which leads aright the helpless blind,
I struggled onward, till the dawn
Across the eastern clouds had drawn
A narrow line of watery gray;
And full before my vision lay
The great dome's gaunt and naked bones
Beneath whose crown the nation thrones
Her queenly person. On I stole,
With hanging head and abject soul,
Across the high embattled ridge,
And o'er the arches of the bridge.

So freshly pricked my sharp disgrace,
I feared to meet the human face,
Skulking, as any woman might,
Who'd lost her virtue in the night,
And sees the dreadful glare of day
Prepare to light her homeward way,
Alone, heart-broken, shamed, undone,
I staggered into Washington!

Since then long sluggish days have passed,
And on the wings of every blast
Have come the distant nations' sneers
To tingle in our blushing ears.
In woe and ashes, as was meet,
We wore the penitential sheet.
But now I breathe a purer air,
And from the depths of my despair
Awaken to a cheering morn,

Just breaking through the night forlorn,
A morn of hopeful victory.

Awake, my countrymen, with me!
Redeem the honor which you lost,
With any blood, at any cost!

I ask not how the war began,

Nor how the quarrel branched and ran

To this dread height. The wrong or right
Stands clear before God's faultless sight.
I only feel the shameful blow,

I only see the scornful foe,

And vengeance burns in every vein To die, or wipe away the stain. The war-wise hero of the West, Wearing his glories as a crest Of trophies gathered in your sight, Is arming for the coming fight. Full well his wisdom apprehends The duty and its mighty ends; The great occasion of the hour, That never lay in human power Since over Yorktown's tented plain The red cross fell, nor rose again. My humble pledge of faith I lay, Dear comrade of my school-boy day, Before thee, in the nation's view; And if thy prophet prove untrue, And from our country's grasp be thrown The sceptre and the starry crown, And thou, and all thy marshalled host Be baffled, and in ruin lost; Oh let me not outlive the blow That seals my country's overthrow ! And, lest this woeful end come true, Men of the North, I tunr to you. Display your vaunted flag once more, Southward your eager columns pour! Sound trump, and fife, and rallying drum; From every hill and valley come. Old men, yield up your treasured gold! Can liberty be priced and sold? Fair matrons, maids, and tender brides, Gird weapons to your lovers' sides; And, though your hearts break at the deed, Give them your blessing and God speed; Then point them to the field of fame, With words like those of Sparta's dame; And, when the ranks are full and strong, And the whole army moves along, A vast result of care and skill, Obedient to the master will; And your young hero draws the sword, And gives the last commanding word

SONGS OF THE REBELS.

"OUR SOUTHERN LAND."

From the 35th Psalm. "Plead my cause, oh Lord, with them that strive with me." 3d. "Draw out also the spear, and stop the way against them that persecute me."

Bow down thine ear, and hear, oh God!
Draw out thy spear and stop the way,
Ere Southern cities flow in blood-
Drive Northern hordes, in sore dismay,

Back to their homes the traitorous band,
And save and shield our Southern land.

Without a cause they've laid their nets,
Without a cause have digged their pits;
(While judgment lives we'll love thy laws,
Into thy hands commit our cause)-

Ensnare the base and traitorous band
In their own nets, and save our land!

"They speak not peace; " false charges they
The foulest to our doors have lain ;
No blush of shame their cheeks betray,
That motives such as sordid gain,

Should lead them on, the coward band-
God shield and save our Southern land!

While nations live, nor truths forgot,
While genius, honor, worth we prize-
Will sink the name of Winfield Scott
Beneath the lowest craven spics,

That follow in his Yankee band,
God save Virginia's noble land!

While Jackson, on the scroll of fame,
Inscribed with tears, for patriot's blood,
Shall live forever! and will claim
Remembrance in the book of God-

Who nobly fell our flag to save!
Immortal fills a hero's grave!

Kentucky! where's thy ancient boast?
Thy valor's gone !-thy daughters bow
In shame before thine honor lost,
And charge thee with the treachery now!
Give traitors aid, lend them thy hand,
God still will shield our native land!

The time will come, and justice waits,
When, armed with rights, our hosts go forth,
The sons of these Confederate States,
Shall sweep the army of the North

From out our great, our Southern land.
God save Jeff. Davis and our band!

-Mobile Evening News, August 12.

There's the devil to pay in the whole d-d concern,
As from Cameron, Seward, and Chase, you will learn;
Yet, though every thing here of a burst-up gives
warning,

I'm certain you'll put it all right in the morning:
So to do as I tell you, be on the alert,
For the panic's fictitious, and nobody's hurt.

I have started no war of invasion, you know;
Let who will pretend to deny it-that's so;
But I saw from the White House an impudent rag,
Which they told me was known as Jeff. Davis' flag,
A-waving above Alexandria high,

Insulting my Government, flouting the sky;
Above my Alexandria, (isn't it, Bates?
Retrocession's a hunibug; what rights have the
States?)

So I ordered young Ellsworth to take the rag down,
Mrs. Lincoln, she craved it, to make a new gown;
But young Ellsworth, he kinder got shot in the race,
And came back in a galvanized burial case;
But then Jackson, the scoundrel, he got his desert;
The panic's fictitious, and nobody's hurt.

It is true I sent steamers which tried for a week
To silence the rebels down there at the creek;
But they had at Game Point about fifty or more
Rifled cannon set up in a line on the shore,
And six thousand Confederates practised to fire 'em,
(Confound these Virginians, we never can tire 'em!)
Who made game of our shooting and crippled our
fleet,

So we prudently ordered a hasty retreat;

With decks full of passengers, deadheads, indeed, For whom of fresh coffins there straightway was need, And still later, at Gresham's, they killed Captain

Ward

In command of the Freeborn, 'twas devilish hard!
But in spite of all this, the rebellion's a spurt;
The panic's fictitious, and nobody's hurt.

Herewith I beg leave to submit the report
Of Butler, the General, concerning the sport
They had at Great Bethel, near Fortress Monroe,
With Hill and Magruder some four weeks ago;
And here let me say a more reckless intruder
I never have known than this Colonel Magruder:
He has taken the Comfort away from Old Point,
And thrown our peninsular plans out of joint;
While in matters of warfare to him Gen'l Butler
Would scarce be thought worthy to act as a sutler,
And the insolent rebels will call to our faces
The flight at Great Bethel the "New Market Races:
Then supersede Butler at once with whoever
Can drive this Magruder clean into the river;
And I shall be confident still to assert
That the panic's fictitious, and nobody's hurt!

'Tis my province, perhaps, hercin briefly to state The state of my provinces, surly of late, Missouri and Maryland-one has the paw

TO THE FEDERAL CONGRESS, 4TH JULY, 1861.

Once more, Representatives, Senators, all,
You come to my Capitol, swift at my call.
'Tis well; for you've something important to do
In this most disagreeable national stew;
For since I came hither to run the machine,
Disguised in Scotch cap and in full Lincoln green,

Called martial, proclaimed through her borders and cities;

Both are crushed, a Big Thing, I make bold to say, it is.

St. Louis is silent and Baltimore dumb,
They hear but the monotone roll of my drum.
In the latter vile sea-port I ordered Cadwallader
To manacle Freedom, and though the crowd followed

her,

Locked up in McHenry, she's safe, it is plain,
With Merryman, Habeas Corpus, and Kane.
And as for that crabbed old dotart, Judge Taney,
For much I would put him on board of the Pawnee,
And make his decisions a little more curt;
For the panic's fictitious, and nobody's hurt!

And now I'll just say what I'd have you to do
In order to put your new President through:
First, four hundred millions is wanted by Chase,
He cannot run longer the Government's face;
And Cameron wants, for the use of old Scott,
Some three hundred thousand more men than he's
got.

Then sixty new iron-plate ships to stand shells
Are loudly demanded (must have 'em) by Welles;
For England, the bully, won't stand our blockade,
And insists that we shall not embarrass her trade.
But who fears the British? I'll speedily tune 'em
As sure as my name is E Pluribus Unum,
For I am myself the whole United States,
Constitution, and Laws, (if you doubt it, ask Bates.)
The Star-Spangled Banner's my holiday shirt-
Hurrah for Abe Lincoln, there's nobody hurt!

-Baltimore "South."

THE BATTLE OF BOONEVILE.-The following statement of what occurred at Booneville may be relied on as strictly true. It was written by a citizen of Booneville who never states as truth what he doesn't know to be truth:

An account of the fruitless interview between Gov. Jackson and Gen. Price, commander-in-chief of the Missouri militia, on the one side, and Gen. Lyon and Col. Blair on the other, you have no doubt seen, as well as the proclamation of Gov. Jackson, calling for 50,000 State troops, which followed. Immediately after issuing the proclamation which named no point of rendezvous for the troops, steps were taken to move the military head-quarters from the capital. Rumor named divers points as the future location of this department. The arrival, however, of a portion of the commander-in-chief's staff, followed by that of the commander-in-chief himself and workmen to put in operation the suspended foundry at this place, and to establish manufactories of munitions of war and military equipments, settled the question. Booneville, however, you will see, was destined to enjoy these honors for but a brief period.

On Friday morning, the 14th inst., messengers were sent in all directions urging those who had volunteered as "State Guards," as well as all armed citizens, to assemble forthwith, at this point. On the same day troops began to arrive, and an encampment was formed four and a half miles east of Booneville, on the bluffs on the south side of the Missouri River. The arrival of troops continued through Saturday and Sunday. On Monday morning, the 17th, at which time the battle occurred, there were in the camp probably 3,500 men. About 500 of these, only, could be said to be armed, the remainder being furnished with the common squirrel rifle and shot gun. The officers' head-quarters were at Booneville, where most of the field-officers remained until their forces began a retreat. On Sunday morning the news came to head-quarters that Gen. Lyon, who commands the Federal forces in Missouri, was in sight. A hasty consultation between the Governor and his officers resulted in a determination to disband the State troops, and an order to disband was

accordingly issued; but some of the more spunky of the secessionists would not hear to going home without having a fight, and, it having been ascertained that the report of the near approach of Gen. Lyon was false, the order to disband was rescinded-not, however, before many had taken advantage of the first order, and had left. Gen. Price being indisposed, (to fight, perhaps,) left for his residence up the Missouri River. During this entire day, and up to the very hour of the battle, men continued to arrive in companies, squads, and singly. Early Monday morning, it was ascertained that Gen. Lyon, who came up the river in boats, was landing his forces, amounting to two thousand men, about two miles below the encampment. The State troops were called from their breakfast, of which many had not even tasted, to form and prepare for battle. With the intention, it is supposed, of surprising Gen. Lyon in the confusion of disembarking, the State troops, many of whom were mounted, left their camp, and, in double-quick time, under the command of Col. Marmaduke, advanced to attack Gen. Lyon. But the Federal troops had already effected a landing and were marching upon the State camp, when the two armies met at a point less than half-way between the point of disembarkation and the encampment of the State troops. Some skirmishing took place previous to the actual engagement. This lasted about 20 minutes, a comparatively small number on either side having been actually engaged. The State troops retreated in the greatest confusion, abandoning their camp equipage, provisions, two iron six-pounders, quite a number of horses, guns, &c., all which, of course, fell into the hands of Gen. Lyon. The Federal troops took, in addition, about 40 prisoners, losing 2 killed, 11 wounded, and 1 missing. The State troops lost 3 killed and 7 wounded.

Gov. Jackson, with some officers and the only well drilled, and well-armed company under his command as a body guard, remained, during the battle, about three miles from the scene of action. Upon the first report of a retreat, he and those with him hastened to town, and, after a hasty, horseback consultation, left for parts unknown. It is supposed that he has fled to Arkansas. It is due to the State troops to state that they were wholly unprepared to contend with the men they had to face. They were hastily brought together; undrilled, for the most part un armed, and wholly unofficered, they were compelled to fight each independent of the others. The Fedcral officers give them credit for bravery.

General Lyon, with his command, entered the town about 12 o'clock without any opposition whatever, establishing his head-quarters at the Fair Ground, and quartering Col. F. P. Blair's regiment in the Thespian Hall.

General Lyon came into our midst with considerable prejudice existing in the minds of many against him. He had been represented as being blood-thirsty and unscrupulous. His men had been represented as being a band of lawless hirelings-respecting neither the property nor rights of others; but this prejudice is broken down. The General's humanity to our wounded, who were left on the battle-field by their friends, his kindness to the prisoners, who were finally released on parole, the promptness with which he punished his men for little depredations committed on the property of men they regarded as enemies, the protection he extends to all, his accessibility and gentlemanly deportment to even rank secessionists, have made him many friends amongst those who

THE BATTLES OF BOONEVILLE AND KANSAS CITY.Mr. T. S. Davis, who reached Richmond, Va., on Monday afternoon, direct from St. Louis, furnishes the subjoined statement. It confirms us in the belief that the Black Republican controllers of the Western telegraph have wilfully misrepresented the facts:

RICHMOND, VA., June 24, 1861.

I left St. Louis on Wednesday evening last, the 19th inst. We had received authentic news from the battle fought at Booneville on the morning of the 17th inst. Gen. Lyon, in command of 5,000 Federal troops, left St. Louis on the 15th instant for Jefferson City; arrived on the 16th; took possession quietly without any resistance, where he left 2,000 of his troops, under command of Col. Boernstein, and he (Gen. Lyon) continued on to Booneville, 40 or 50 miles above Jefferson City. When arriving near Booneville, Gen. Price, in command of the 1,500 State troops at that place, made a partial retreat, taking 1,000 of them, with which he thus succeeded in decoying Lyon and all of his men on land, save a few hundred on board the Iatan. Gen. Price had masked batteries in a small skirt of woods, from which he opened a brisk cannonade immediately after Lyon drew his men up in line of battle, which resulted in the repulse of the Federal troops with a loss of 300 killed and 700 taken prisoners. Gen. Lyon himself was captured, and six pieces of cannon and 800 stand of arms. The steamer Iatan, with the few hundred who were left on board, was shot to pieces, and sunk into the river, the remainder, about 1,800 or 2,000, retreated to Jefferson City. All their boats were captured. Boernstein, who was in command at Jefferson City, immediately after their defeat telegraphed to F. P. Blair, Jr., who had command in St. Louis, to send up all the forces he could possibly spare. Upon receipt of the despatch he sent up 3,000 troops from St. Louis, the evening before I left.

Upon the reception of the news from Booneville, the secessionists in St. Louis turned out about 3,000 to 4,000 in number, greatly elated, and cheered for Jeff. Davis, Beauregard, and Gov. Jackson. They expected to make an attack upon the Dutch that night, who were under the command of Blair, at the Arsenal, and supposed to be about 3,000 in number. The battle of Kansas City took place on Monday morning, the 17th. Thirteen hundred Federal troops made an attack upon about that number of the State troops, under command of Captain Kelley. After a desperate fight the Federals were repulsed, leaving 200 dead on the field of battle, 150 taken prisoners, four pieces of cannon, &c. Loss of State troops, 45 killed and wounded.

I passed through Cairo on the night of the 19th; met with no difficulty, further than the inspection of my baggage. T. S. DAVIS. -Charleston Mercury.

C. S. A.-The above significant letters, says The Milwaukee Sentinel, having been discovered recently upon the closed doors of an individual known to have been largely interested in Southern business, his anxious creditors came to the conclusion that he

them chanced to meet him in the street. "Hallo!" says the creditor, "what are you doing here? I saw the placard on your door, C. S. A.-Confederate States of America." "Softly," replied the debtor, "that's not the way I translate it; C. S. A.-Can't settle accounts."

JEFF. DAVIS IS COMING, O! o! Air-" Campbells are Coming." Jeff. Davis is coming, O! O! When shall we see him, O! O? When the river is rising? Oh, No! He will wait till the river is low.

And Johnston is coming, O! O!
Go get me a trumpet to blow-
His movements are dreadfully slow,
And when, if he comes, will he go?

Beauregard is coming, O! O!

On a charger as white as the snow
Col. Thing-a-mee gave him for show-
He will free us (of money) I know.

There they are, all three in a row,
Brave Johnston, and Jeff., and the Beau.;
Will they wade, if the river is low?
Or wait till it ceases to flow?

THE ANCESTRY OF GEN. BEAUREGARD.-When Col. Fremont became a kind of great man and was a candidate to the Presidency of the United States, the Canadians were loud in claiming the adventurous "Pathfinder of the Rocky Mountains" as a countryman of theirs. He was born in their country, said they, on the lovely banks of the Ottawa River, and Dr. Fremont, of Quebec University, is his uncle.

A few years later, when Garibaldi conquered the two Sicilies with a handful of Italian patriots, the Canadians were up once more, stating, with the most comical earnestness, that the Nicean hero was not a white man, but an Indian of mixed breed, born in one of the old parishes near the St. Lawrence, above Montreal, and who had been adopted in a tender age by a missionary, with whom he travelled in many countries, and finally settled in Nice. As a corroborating proof of this piece of startling intelligence, it was said the glorious old chief with the red shirt was keeping a regular correspondence with a brother of his, a savage, settled near the thriving little city of St. Hyacinthe.

Now that the name of Gen. Beauregard begins to be famous, he could not escape being dubbed a Canadian by our friends on the other side of the lakes.

"His grandfather," says one of the Montreal French papers, was a Canadian. His name was Pierre Toutan, and he emigrated from Batiscan, in the district of Three Rivers, to New Orleans. There he made a great fortune in a very short time, and his influence over the French population of Louisiana became very great. As a reward for his political services he obtained his son's admission to the military academy of West Point, where the young cadet was entered under the name of Pierre G. Toutan. In the mean time, he bought, in the vicinity of New Orleans, an estate to which he gave the name of Beauregard, (fine sight.) When the son got his commission of