And the twin brothers that we said Had clashed above the fallen head, Heedless of all on which they tread, Thus saith the Keeper of the Key, And the Great Seal of Destiny, Whose eye is the blue canopy, Now crimson with each other's blood the vernal dra- And casts the pall of his great darkness over all the pery of the dead. land and sea. -Louisville Journal. And all their children, far and wide, That are so greatly multiplied, SONG OF A SENTINEL. Rise up in frenzy and divide, And all, according to their might, unsheathe the sword Alas! there ne'er was time in human story, and choose their side. I see the champion sword-strokes flash, I see a brother stoop to loose his foeman-brother's bloody sash. I hear the curses and the thanks, I see the mad charge on the flanks- And see the vanquished driven headlong down the river's bridgeless banks. I see the death-gripe on the plain, The grappling monsters on the main, I see the thousands that are slain, When fighting, killing, were not going on! Conquest, plunder, mastery, and "glory," By these the race has ever been undone. And Christian men, with age and learning hoary, Have found a conscience even to smile upon The "pride, pomp, and circumstance" of war(The Juggernaut, who rolls his crunching car !) And history is mostly a disastrous tale Of marches, battles, and that sort of thing; Sometimes upon a large, and then a smaller scale, As prosers tell us, or as poets sing. It seems that mankind at no time can fail Upon themselves war's miseries to bring. Doubtless the rulers are to blame; but then, What could the rulers do without the men? And all the speechless suffering and agony of heart Suppose no soldier e'er could be enlisted, and brain. I see the torn and mangled corpse, The dead and dying heaped in scores, The heedless rider by his horse From worthier motive-or to fight for hire? Suppose all men were Christians, and existed To do just what the Christian rules require? Then our Constitution had not been resisted By Northern State laws! Then no frantic ire Had e'er inflamed the Southern men, to tear The wounded captives bayoneted through and through From Sumter's walls our banner floating there. without remorse. I see the dark and bloody spots The crowded rooms and crowded cots The bleaching bones, the battle-blots For what has brought our land to this condition- And write on many a nameless grave a legend of for- Yclept Republican, but really Abolition! And in the low sun's blood-shot raysPortentous of the coming days— I see the oceans blush and blaze, When Garrison, its founder, took his start, he Scarce could have hoped his English Yankee notion So soon would end in war's insane commotion. But he had chosen well his field of labor! Since schooled has been the later generation Yes-well he chose! And well the people there And the emergent continent between them wrapt in Brought step by step the Union to declare They did all this; and sadly they defamed But-Davis, Yancey, Keitt, and Beauregard, Were match to your immeasurable sin What demon could possess you to abandon The Union-and your rights as Union men? A monstrous crime, and worse-a monstrous blunder! 'Twas Talleyrand, French Secretary, said A blunder's worse than crime;-but never Of blunder like your efforts to dissever I know that Milton undertakes to prove, Enlisted armies, and had soldiers training, Against angelic hosts, in rude campaigning! So says the poet; and to human level, He thus brings down the conduct of the devil. But sacred chronicle has nothing said Of Lucifer behaving in this way. Some shabby tricks it seems that he had played, And so in Heaven could no longer stay. But war, I'm satisfied, he never made, As Milton tells us. There was no display Of spears and shields and other like "material," And loud explosions from the guns ethereal. No! Milton's epic's very far from true- And do not paint him blacker than he is. It was in fact secession, and no less, All quietly and peaceably out-acted. The devil, jealous, was in some distress, Because his plottings had been counteracted; The rule of others only would oppress, He said; and so to rule, himself, exacted; But failing, took his leave, and sundry minionsDropping headlong into his own dominions. And this was all. So Milton's solemn song For Lucifer is guiltless of the wrong Of armed rebellion! This is something worse Than even he enacted, when on pinions strong The gulf to Erebus he did traverse. No, no-he's bad enough; but men defame him, When for the crime of rebel war they blame him! But 'twas a losing business; and the devil Of "recognized" confederacy, as they tell. And so with you and yours. Oh! had you stood By bringing your supplies from some far nation, And not from mad New-England, you'd have made Her bigotry surrender to the laws of trade. She would have given up her abolition For trade and profit. We have seen her scout In larger markets-they shall not go out! Some fifty years ago, New-England thought She boasts, New-England does, of her capacity In close connection, when they speak her name,) She makes the guns, the powder, clothing, shoes, In arms-preparing them for others' deeds. And so, while honest Western men are fighting, She's in the contract part of war delighting. She loveth war, while to her mill is brought The profitable grist! Her pockets linedFor blood and misery she careth not, So they to other people are confined. Let others suffer as they will, 'tis naught To her and hers. And so the public mind She poisons and embitters with infusion Of negro madness, to prolong confusion. For war, they say, is better than "aggression" Of Christian gifts-applauding deadly fights! Of killed and mangled are refreshing sights! But what aggression ever yet was made The soil of any State, for spoil or fight? A single Northern heart e'er wound or blight? (I mean of course, before we had secessionThe remedy, ill chosen, for the North's aggression.) "Oh! yes!" we're told, "they labored to expand The country's bounds! They years ago did vex us With Louisiana, (which turned out a grand Affair enough;) then Florida, then Texas Against the Northern protest; did perplex us Thus we have briefly told "what was the matter;" And this was all; no right they e'er denied us, They did what born Americans must do, When wronged; they swore to seek redress! They to the Union had been firm and trueMade for their safety and their happiness; They clung to rights by Constitution due To free white men, who only them possess. But they did err in choice of modes for righting All wrongs; they chose secession, and then fighting! But view the case reversed. Suppose the North Denied the rights, essential to existence; Suppose her people styled "barbarians," and so forth; Their "chattels" stolen, with insane persistence ? Suppose the Constitution of so little worth, That plain provisions met with mad resistance? How long would Yankees bear such imposition? Could e'er be theirs, and borne all patiently! For have not Yankees struggled for their right? In Boston Bay, when "tea" was all in vogue-eh? Oh! these are names on history's gilt-edged paper! Which men will read while Time can hold his taper! But they, whose sires for right could thus contend, Have caught their spirit somewhere in extreme; And not content their own rights to defend, To quelch the rights of others is their dream! All-all-to them must basely bow and bend, Howe'er degrading such submission seem. The South to madness goaded, now they'd take The little profit that the West can make ! The tariff-fixed precisely as they want it, New-England yet will "feather her own nest." But Shakspeare, prince of poets, hap'ly says "Vaulting ambition doth o'erleap itsel'," And even New-England may see other days, When ruined hopes another tale will tell. "Curses come home to roost"-and wicked ways Have retribution, when deserved so well, She's gloating now o'er distant desolation, She madly fanned the fires that glow in war, She kills the hen that laid her golden eggs! For when the cotton fields in ruin are, Where then her trade? If Western labor begs All vainly, freedom from unequal tax, Will we still kiss the rod that smarts our backs? Like boy on bladder, sporting on a river, She's floating now, all buoyant on the stream; But war's fat contracts cannot last forever, And when they're over, ended is her dream! Her bladders all collapsed-how can she ever Her prestige and prosperity redeem? Domestic trade let down-then foreign trade a-courting, She'll find that paper prices don't permit exporting! Of honesty she'll then give some example- Pompeii sported-eating, drinking, making love, in The neatest little loaves of four ace flour; Laden darkness came volcanic shower! And so the world (except of ashes) ended For proud old Pompeii and all her people. With fate-when ashes buried even the steeple. All hail, New-England! We have heard your cry A grand eruption may come, by and by, A hint to mend your ways, and better grow? THE HOUR AND THE MAN. From the deep hear of all this land is sounding, Like the weird v.ce of Fate, the tramp of men; And now, where serried ranks are fast emerging, And slope, and field, and plain, and stream, are glistening With points of steel and banners flaunting high; And the awed world stands looking on and listening! 'Midst it all, a cry Steals up! in the beginning like a murmur On the broad page that bears the varied record Truth and right were lost. But cool, calm, cautious, and determined action, When comes the passing hour that's big with fate, Fixes its impress on the individual, Exalts, expands, and magnifies the state. From out the dusk of far receding centuries, One clear, prophetic voice of warning calls'Tis this: that in the hour of trust and trial, He who falters falls! Oh! hearken to it, thou to-day, who holdest We wait, thy people, patient but expectant; OUR HEROES. Ah! no, they have not passed away, Of lofty deeds, whose souls were cast O patriot names! Brighter for such O loyal lives! in days of gloom Hear ye their call? Up! Save this Land! It stirs each true heroic heart, That thrilling battle-cry. They come they come! O waiting souls! Their hearts are leal, their swords are true, Thank God, my country, for the brave, Their noblest thoughts are given to thee, They fight and bleed and die On hill-side, plain, and sea, That the old flag cleansed from every stain BRUNSWICK, ME., January 10, 1868. S. R. C. LARRY'S RETURN FROM THE WAR. BY WILL S. HAYS. The black clouds were angrily chasing each other; As when he left Kitty's bewitching young charms; Whose eyes were so bright, and whose cheeks were so rosy "Arrah! Kitty," said Larry, "love, come to me arms." "O Larry! you're safe!" Yes, thrue for ye, darlin'; I've been in the battles, whin the balance wor kilt, An' the ribils, like haythens, come fightin' an' snarlin' Arrah! Kitty, no knowin' the blood that was spilt." "Come, Larry, sit down;" "Faith, I will, an' close near you For lonesome I've been, for many months past; I often have wished-d'ye mind?" "Yes, I hear you." "That ivery big fight that we had was the last." "And have you been wounded?" "Ah! no; I wor lucky. The boys fought like divils, an' died in a hape; An' since our last march, as we wint through Kintucky, How many brave fellows have laid down to slape! "No longer a sojer, dear Kitty, I'll tarry— Faith, while I wor one, to the cause I wor thrue; An' now I've come home, love, a swate girl to marry." "Pray, Larry, who is she?" "Arrah! Kitty, 'tis you! I've got me discharge, an' through life's wintry weather We'll make the path aisy, as aisy can be. "Me heart's in me hand." "I'll take them together." "Presint arms, then, darlint!" "I will, love," says she. "Ah! Larry, I'm glad-are you tired of fightin' ?" A SUBSTITUTE FOR LEATHER.-There are two modes of preparing skins for use- one is by tanning, and the other by tawing. The first of these requires months or years; the last only a few weeks. The first produces thick leather, the latter thin. In tawing, the skin is soaked and scraped to get rid of the hair and putrescible parts, then treated with alum and salt; then stretched, and scraped, and rubbed to make it flexible, and in some cases saturated with animal fat. It is not only by custom and convenience that we are confined to leather in the making of our shoes. Any substance which will exclude water and which will endure the rubs and thumps given by the foot will do for shoes. A hatter can make an excellent shoe out of the same felt and by the same process which he uses in making hats; using one other mould, and some waterproof mixture in the sole to keep out the wet. A farmer may make a very pleasant shoe out of an old wool hat by providing a suitable sole; and he may provide a suitable sole by combining several thicknesses of felt with a little wax and rosin, or wax and Indiarubber, or tallow, rubber, and rosin inserted between the leaves to keep out moisture. Osnaburgs, boiled in linseed oil, and wax, and then blackened, will do very well for the uppers, only it will require a lining of osnaburgs again to make it sufficiently strong, and to keep the blackened fabric from defiling the foot. The skins of a pair of squirrels tanned would make a pretty and pleasant pair of shoes for a lady. Soles of shoes for men (beside the substitute already mentioned) may be made of old saddle-skirts, leather gin-bands, gutta-percha bands, several thicknesses of tough cloth of any sort sewed together and saturated with the waterproof; or they may be compounded of several things-the outer of leather or hardened felt, the inner of cloth or doubled osnaburgs or duck, and between the two a broad and flexible split of white oak, hickory, palmetto-stalk, or birch-bark.-Savannah Republican. AMONG the novelties which this extraordinary war has produced are the instances which have repeatedly occurred of late of cavalry capturing gunboats. A friend suggests that our horses should be fitted out with sails and rudders, in order to facilitate their amphibious operations. The gunboats, it must be admitted, have fallen amazingly from their original prestige. At one time they had nearly scared the South from its propriety; but they are now manifest humbugs, which even a few troopers can explode. The gallant cities of Vicksburgh and Richmond deserve the credit of having first shorn the gunboats of their terrors. From the hour when Drury's Bluff demolished their iron-clads, they have been gradually sinking to their proper level.-Richmond Dispatch, Jan. 27. DELAWARE.-No State in the Union has been more conspicuous for its gallantry and loyalty, during the present struggle, than the little Border State of Delaware. When every other Slave State either wavered or broke out into rebellion, she stood firm-"faithful among the faithless." When, after the attack upon Fort Sumter, a call was made for troops, she promptly sent a regiment of militia to Washington to guard the National capital, and with equal alacrity responded to the demand of the President for volunteers to put down the rebellion. The regiment designated upon the Army Register as the "Second Delaware," but more familiarly known among the veterans of the Potomac as "the Crazy Delawares," was the first regiment raised in the State for three years or during the war. It has been prominent in every general engagement of the grand army |