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What wages you gib?" F. M.-"Wages, you rascal? Quart of corn a day, and three shirts and pantaloons a year; for legal hours of work, fourteen hours a day for half the year, and

fifteen the other half."*

T. C. N.-" Any priv'leges, massa?"

F. M.-"Privileges! Ha! ha! Yes, privileges of John Driver's whip, or of such other punishment as I choose to inflict, and of not being believed on oath if you go and peach against me, and of being sold down South when I please, and of being converted by any parson whom I choose to allow."

T. C. N.-"Hm. Wife and chil'n my own dis time,

mass ?"

F. M.-"Ha! ha! ha! Yes-till I or Mr. Overseer want them. But you have the privilege of taking another wife as often as I allow it, and of having as many children as it pays me to bring up."

T. C. N.- Beg pardon, massa, but what for you

call me servant hired for life?"

F. M.-"What_for, you rascal? Because a great man, after whom I named you, when he had written a d-d good book on the 'nigger question,' says that is all the difference between you and those mean, whitelivered Yankee working-men, who are hired by the month or the day."

T. C. N." Massa, if him book good book, why's I not privileged to learn read it ?"

Wish dey'd gib me a rifle 'fore I dies."-Macmillan's
Magazine.

66
CARLYLE AND HIS NUTSHELL."

Carlyle pours the dregs of his once fertile brain
In a nutshell, the great cause of Freedom to stain;
But the gall he has used foils the foolish attack,
And dyes himself darker than African-black.

AN ACT OF VILLAINY.-A correspondent of the Boston Traveller, writing from Sharpsburgh an account of General Kilpatrick's charge on the rebel rear-guard, near Downsville, relates the occurrence of a dastardly act as follows:

General Kilpatrick got within half a mile of the enemy's rear-guard, near Downsville, Md., when our spies discovered that lines of rifle-pits were ready to contest their advance. These works were erected on the brow of quite a large hill, and General Kilpatrick at once resolved to feel the strength of his foe. Two companies of the Sixth Michigan cavalry, B and F, were ordered to charge up the hill to the earthworks, which was done in fine style. As our men dashed in sight, the rebels were seen to throw down their arms and hoist a flag of truce.

Supposing, of course, the enemy had surrendered, they continued on, and when within fifty or sixty feet the entire rebel force, which must have numbered from seven hundred to one thousand men, seized their rifles and fired upon our men, taking them completely by surprise.

Finding the force so much larger than they anticipated, our men gave them a volley and fell back to the main body of cavalry. The rebels, after completely stripping the victims of their infamous treachery of shoes and stockings, fled to a dense piece of woods three miles beyond, carrying off their dead and wounded. I visited the scene of their hellish plot in order to obtain a list of the casualties, and a more revolting spectacle never presented itself.

In all directions, as far as the eye could reach on the top of the hill, lay the lifeless remains of our brave defenders, the warm blood oozing from their mortal wounds in streams that formed in pools amid the grass, while at their side, bleeding, lay their faithful chargers, stiff in death, the sharers of their fate.

A knot of soldiers gathered around the bodies of the

slain, swearing eternal revenge upon the dastardly assassins who so cowardly shot their heroic comrades, and then bayoneted them. This is a horrible fact, which I witnessed personally. After killing our men, they pierced their bodies with bayonets and swords, robbed the dead of their finger-rings, boots, stockings, hats, and every article of value.

NOBLE CONDUCT OF THE TWENTY-THIRD NEW-JERSEY. F. M.-"Read, you infernal scoundrel! Why, if-In the Sixth corps we have a New-Jersey regiment, any one were to help you to learn, the law gives him the Twenty-third, which has exhibited an extraordinary fine and imprisonment or lashes, and what do you degree of patriotism truly commendable, and worthy suppose you'd get? So off with you Stay-of public acknowledgment. how old is that yellow nigger, your wife's daughter?" Their term of service had expired, but just as they T. C. N.-"Born three weeks 'fore Miss Susy,

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were preparing to leave for home, the order was received for the division to cross the river. Their gal lant Colonel ordered out his command, and after forming them into line and telling them of the orders issue: he stated, notwithstanding their time was out, he for one was going with the division, and desired to know how many would go with him; every soul in the regi ment answered Ay! and they are now with a part of

the Sixth corps, over the river and under the very guns of the enemy.

This is truly a pleasing incident to record, and should receive the highest encomiums of all.-Philadelphia Inquirer, June, 1863.

ODE

What have we done for thee?
What have we won for thee?

Surging with tumult and sorely oppressed-
Given our all to thee!

Given our lives to thee!

Given thee Liberty, Land of the West.

Then hail to our country, the Land of the West!

On the Inauguration of the Albany Army Relief Ba- The marvel of nations, the Great and the Blest,

zaar, on the 22d February, 1864.

BY MISS MARGARET F. MORGAN, OF ALBANY.

All hail to our country, the Land of the West!
The dream of the nations, the Great and the Blest;
The vision that came on the spice of the breeze,
And haunted the heart of the dark Genoese-
That rose like a temple of gold to his view,
That hung like a star in his distance of blue.

The Sun on his journey may linger to glance

On the mosque and the temple, the vine and the dance,

But always returns to the haunt he loves best,

And leaves his last smile with the Land of the West.

O Sun! in thy beauty, untiring like thee, The heart of the Westland is glowing!

And over the continent, over the sea,

The light of its purpose is throwing.

Behold how its broad and beneficent ray
Each measure and limit is scorning!

Though dark clouds of error still lurk in the way,
They are edged with the light of the morning.

Come, Morning Light!

Come, quickly come,
Break through the night-
Trumpet and drum

Call in their might,

Come, quickly come !

Break, break the tyrant's yoke,
Break through the battle smoke-
Scatter the gloom!

Let Treason's wonted ire
See in its force and fire
Naught but its doom!

Break through the prison bars, go with a blessing,
Shine on our captives and bid them good cheer;
Go where the soreness of famine is pressing,
Tell them that bounty and largess are near:
From mountain, vale, and mart,
Tell them the Nation's heart
Whispers, "Good Cheer!"

Though the air is stirred with combat,
Hope with lifted finger waits-
Hears the bugle-call of "Union !""
Hears the homeward march of States !

From the dim and doubting vision,
Rend the veil-and show the Right,
Through the mists of fraud and fable,
Lead them onward, Morning Light!

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The green of her forests, the blue of her vales,
Her mines and her mountains, her lakes and her sails,
Her cotton and rice-fields that stretch far away
In saffron of sunset, or purple of day--
All, all will we cherish with right and with might,
Till the Sun shall grow dim on his voyage of light!
From blight and from error, from woe and unrest,
May God shield our country, the Land of the West!

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No spirit more intense and fine

Strives where her starry banners wave, No gentler face, beloved, than thine Sleeps in a soldier's grave

No heart more brave.

And though his mound I may not trace,

Or weep above his buried head, The grateful spring shall find the place, And with her blossoms spread His quiet bed.

The soul I loved is still alive,

The name I loved is Freedom's boast; I clasp these helpful truths, and strive To feel, though great the cost, Nothing is lost:

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Under the high, unclouded sun,

That makes the ship and shadow one,
I sail away, as from the fort
Booms sullenly the noonday gun.

The odorous airs blow thin and fine,
The sparkling waves like emeralds shine,
The lustre of the coral reefs
Gleams whitely through the tepid brine.
And glitters o'er the liquid miles
The jeweled ring of verdant isles,
Where generous Nature holds her court
Of ripened bloom and sunny smiles.

Encinctured by the faithful seas,
Inviolate gardens load the breeze,
Where flaunt, like giant warders' plumes,
The pennants of the cocoa-trees.

Enthroned in light, and bathed in balm,
In lonely majesty the Palm
Blesses the isles with waving hands-
High-Priest of the eternal Calm.

Yet northward with an equal mind
I steer my course, and leave behind
The rapture of the Southern skies,
The wooing of the Southern wind.

For here o'er Nature's wanton bloom
Falls far and near the shade of gloom,
Cast from the hovering vulture-wings
Of one dark thought of woe and doom.

I know that in the snow-white pines
The brave Norse fire of freedom shines,
And fain for this I leave the land
Where endless summer pranks the vines.
O strong, free North, so wise and brave!
O South, too lovely for a slave!
Why read ye not the changeless truth-
The free can conquer but to save?
May God upon these shining sands
Send Love and Victory clasping hands,
And Freedom's banners wave in peace
For ever o'er the rescued lands!
And here, in that triumphant hour,
Shall yielding Beauty wed with Power;
And blushing earth and smiling sea
In dalliance deck the bridal bower.

OUR COUNTRY'S FLAG.

CAMPAIGN SONG.

AIR-" Sparkling and Bright."

Loyal and true to the red, white, and blue,

With high resolve united,

We firmly stand for our native land,
By faith and honor plighted.

Then rally we all at the nation's call,
While the dear old flag waves o'er us;
And our song shall rise till the bending skies
Resound with the swelling chorus.

When in treason's hour our country's power
To the hands of traitors was given,
Men woke to life for the deadly strife,
As the flag caught the breezes of heaven.

Then rally we all at the nation's call,

While the dear old flag waves o'er us;
And our song shall rise till the bending skies
Resound with the swelling chorus.

By our sacred cause-by our rights and laws-
By freedom's hallowed story-

By this flag of the free, on the land and the sea,
We'll maintain our country's glory.

Then rally we all to the nation's call,

While the dear old flag waves o'er us;
And our song shall rise till the bending skies
Resound with the swelling chorus.

O flag divine! each star of thine
Shall brighten in wondrous beauty,
When the wanderers come to their olden home
In the robes of truth and duty

Then in Union grand we shall firmly stand,
While the Stars and Stripes wave o'er us,
And our song shall rise till the bending skies
Resound with the swelling chorus.

OLD ROSY.

B. H. HALL.

When Rosy rode along the line,
Right well we knew our hero's sign;
For there we stood like wolves at bay,
And fought the rebels hard all day.
Still on they came; still back we drove
In fury low and cloud above;
But now they pressed us two to one-
Our line fell back--the front was gone-
We almost wept to see the rout:
"Stand fast! stand fast! and see it out!"
Our leader shouted. Oh! the shout,
As Rosy rode along the line.

As quickening vengeance draws its breath
To leap to the embrace of death,
Awhile they paused, then all aflame,
On, on the hounding rebels came.
"Stand by the flag!" our chieftain cried;
Like rooted oaks our columns bide;
But tide on tide the flood o'erflowed,
The broken line fell back the road.
"Hurrah!" we heard the foeman cry-
Yet stood our chief, not ours to fly;
But blazed the tiger in his eye
As Rosy rode along the line.

Where now within the battle-blast
Our ragged standards fluttered fast,

A cheer broke in, and then the drum-
"The Hawkeyes, Buckeyes, Hoosiers come!"
We stood to win, nor thought to stir,
Each man an executioner;
Heard o'er the hills in gathering gloom
The deep gun's last despairing boom-

Then ranged our cannons to the breach
With haughty purpose, each to each,
And silent still we stood for speech,

Till Rosy rode along the line.
Uprose our gunners, grim and bare,
To light the torch of victory there!
Now close the charging foemen surge,
To mock the awful lightning's verge;
Down to the front our leader darts-
"Aim low! aim low! my flinty hearts!"
And soon about the colors true
Our drummer beats his wild tattoo!

Then but to see the chieftain's look;
The word he gave-that word we took-
"Give them a blizzard!" Lord, it shook!
As Rosy rode along the line.

Back rolled the flood, and in its track
We drove their quailing legions back;
As horse and foot we followed on,
With bloody cost the day was won!
Then homeward Rosy took his course,
Our wounded drummer on his horse;
"Well done!" said he; "well done, brave men,
Please God, we'll do as well again.'

Then marched we in with three times three
For Murfreesboro, the victory.

Ah! 'twas a sight for men to see,

When Rosy rode along the line.

KANE O'DONNEL.

THE "MONITOR" AND HER CHILDREN.

AN ODE,

DEDICATED TO THE CITIZENS OF THE UNITED STATES.

"The gale at this time was raging furiously. The water had ucceeded in rising up to the grate-bars of the furnaces, and was gradually extinguishing the fires. The vessel was now sinking. The moon, which up to this time had been giving some light, was shut in by masses of black clouds; and at three quarters of an hour past midnight, on the morning of the last day of 1862, the Monitor's light disappeared beneath the waves."-Account by a gentleman on the Rhode Island.

A ship foundering at midnight!-the Monitor!-ho!
The mistress of ocean in whelming waves!
Deep-deeper and stronger the terrible flow

Is sweeping the struggling to watery graves;
The conqueror peerless, now yielding to one
Who can turn into peril our glory and bliss-
Make "coating metallic" and "monster gun"
A sinker for sounding the dark abyss.

Yes, sinking! like soldier of ancient date,
When suddenly launched upon waters mad

In his death-defying scales and plate-
His impervious armor-" iron-clad."

Oh! we think of the day when, from havoc of blood,
The Devourer* fled, wounded, away in her shame,
And duels and tournaments since the world stood,
Took their place out of sight, hardly claiming a

name.

Yet one more agony for the relief

Yet one more desperate yearn to save! 'Tis in vain. Alas! But a moment brief

And the plunge-the gurgle-the closing grave. Over "turret" a prouder boast of mind,

Sublimer symbol-for ever gone!— Than towers colossal of towns refined,

That crash and vanish in earthquake's yawn.

The great rebel iron-clad, the Merrimac or Virginia.

For ever gone with thy guardian power?
And thy country, bereft of thee,

So easy a prey, in an ill-starred hour,

To some hostile giant ruling the sea? "We are here!" the Monitor's Children cry,

And the voices are looming athwart the gloom: "Ne'er mother went down, to be raised so high

Left such an example-so honored a tomb.
"We are many. In us she lives, and more,
As mother in stalwart and filial band;
In her faith we have sworn, on sea and shore
To fulfil her counsel-her loyal command.
We are one-as our country must ever be-
In our heavenly trust and our glorious cause,
Dealing death upon treason and tyranny,

For Union, Liberty, Virtue, and Laws.

"We are ready! All clad in our heaviest mail,
Yet buoyant to breast the "heaviest "gale.
We are ready! To pour our iron hail,
Till inimical bulwarks tremble and fail-
Till Rebellion has uttered its dying wail,

And tyrants, "admonished," no more shall assail'And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall

wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave." " SUSQUEHANNA.

THE AMERICAN NATION.

BY JAMES S. WATKINS.

The American Nation!

She knows not her strength, Whose armies are millions, through Her breadth and her length; Her Union is strength

She dreads not the world, Though at her, unjustly, They've thunderbolts hurled.

With her navy of iron,

And sailors of steel,
She scorns haughty Europe,
Whose tyrannic heel
Would crush with oppression
(If crush it they could)
That birthright her freemen
Have purchased by blood.

The American Nation!
A light to the world,
Where Liberty's emblem,
By freemen unfurled,
Waves aloft, in its glory,
O'er steeple and dome,
Protecting and granting
The oppressed a home.
The American Nation!

All freemen we have!
No serfs, à la Russia,

The nobleman's slave!
But a land where the poor
The sceptre can wield,
And rule with the wealthy,
'Neath Liberty's shield.

The American Nation!
Independent and free!
God grant she, through ages,
United may be:

Ay, grant that her banner Of starry-gemmed blue Shall now and for ever

Wave over the true.

EMERALD GROve, Md.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

Lines suggested after the Alarm and Bloody Contest of Major Cole's Command on Loudon Heights.

BY A CONNECTICUT SOLDIER.

A soldier reclines in the noisy camp,

Dreaming of home and the loved ones there, Unheeding alike the measured tramp

And the martial music which fills the air.

Oh how delicious that beautiful dream!
With tremulous joy, in a fond embrace
He folds to his heart his loved ones again,

And looks with delight in each radiant face.

Sweet voices, like melody, fall on his ear,

And baby-lips prattle in welcoming glee;

On the cheek of his wife there's a glittering tear, As she whispers: 'Beloved, I've been praying for thee."

She tells him how oft, in the watches of night,
Her prayers were breathed forth to the Father
above,

That He, in his infinite goodness and might,
Would spread o'er her husband a mantle of love.

The soul of the sleeper is thrilling with joy,

But his dream is dispelled by the tones of command:

"To arms!" shouts the captain; "brave soldiers, to arms!

And fight for your country-the foe is at hand!" 'Mid that terrible conflict, 'mid carnage and strife, The soldier is calm, and his spirit is free; He thinks of his children-he thinks of his wifeAnd murmurs: "I know they are praying for me."

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BLACK TOM.

Hunted by his rebel master

Over many a hill and glade, Black Tom, with his wife and children, Found his way to our brigade.

Tom had sense and truth and courage, Often tried where danger roseOnce our flag his strong arm rescued From the grasp of rebel foes.

One day Tom was marching with us

Through the forest as our guide, When a ball from traitor's rifle Broke his arm and pierced his side.

On a litter white men bore him,

Through the forest drear and damp, Laid him, dying, where our banners Brightly fluttered o'er our camp.

Pointing to his wife and children, While he suffered racking pain, Said he to our soldiers round him, "Don't let them be slaves again !" "No! by Heaven!" outspoke a soldier, And that oath was not profane"Our brigade will still protect them— They shall ne'er be slaves again."

Over Old Tom's dusky features
Came and staid a joyous ray;
And with saddened friends around him,
His free spirit passed away.

"PEACE ON EARTH."

Peace! when over every land and sea
Is heard no more the cry of Slavery;
When bondmen are no longer bond, but free,
And freedmen shout aloud-" Sweet Liberty !"

"Victoria Apteryx "-" the Wingless Victory."

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