In foamy spray o'er its rough-hewn stair; The spot I have learned to love so well, Where fancy can revel without restraint, And her creations are wont to dwell, And fill the mind with pictures quaint; The Shawanese and the Delaware savage, Ere Indian warrior taught his child To scalp and murder, burn and ravage. I thought of times long passed away, And buried chieftains rose before me; But vain are the dreams we would fain recall, For oblivion's mantle is over them all. And then I thought of the old-time fort, And the name its bold defender won; Old Colonel Chambers bristled with pride, And declared that "the guns should stay by his side, To the living present which vividly seems At liberty's shrine and on freedom's altar; And not a man was known to falter. From the fields where Steele and Chambers fought, At the nation's first baptismal, To the gory spot where Easton wrought And died 'midst the deep swamps dismal; And from where our patriot fathers bled, And their comrades moaning, "dead, dead, dead," To the far-off hillside's thorn-bush shade The past, the present, the future, all And troop through brain in wild disorder, II. And thus again as I lay by the stream And bore away the triumphal car Of terrible, glorious "border war;" While rose to my ears a swelling strain, Which seemed like the voices of heroes slain, And this was the burden of what they were singing, Its cadence wild with the waters ringing. Away to the border, away, Where your brethren are calling. Fall in, men, fall in, and forward in order, Do you not hear the cry coming up from the border ? Away to the border, away, Where stout hearts are contending. Your own hearth-stones defending. Fall in, men, fall in, and forward in order, The foe's at your doors almost, his foot on the border. Where brave men are dying. Fall in, men, fall in, and forward in order, The blood of the slain is calling, "Come to the border." III. Then quickly before my astonished eyes- Of men who were going to battle: And the fierce artillery's rattle; And men who had borne the battle's brunt. Of where the dinner hour would find them; On the earth should be put; I can never forget, nor could I desire When our sergeant led out our squad in the night, For you know that in case there were 'somebody hurt,' 'Twould conflict with the regulations," Then behind a stone fence we were placed where we Till we heard the approaching relief, [slept When we marched back to camp, and like soldiers we stept, Only stopping to drink to our chief, The provost, who'd shut up the bars, though by stealth The provost (I dreamed) I could never forget, How from morning till night they were sorely beset As the sun went down in the west, And at dark had advanced already between IV. The quiet town in its still repose, Not a whisper heard from the whispering trees, Not a rumor borne on the passing breeze, But little recked of the coming foes. The clouds were lowering, and pattering rain An anxious horseman with panting steed, With the word that "the rebels were coming!" But the provost (I dreamed) was a man who would Bells rang and drums beat in that hour of need, have His will and his way in his station, And to show that the town he would certainly save, He issued a strict proclamation: "No citizen armed for the common defence," His bitters could get of a morning; But the citizen-soldiers scorned abstinence, As their mode of attack was by horning. "In case the foe approaches the town," The command was, "Destroy all the brandy," But it did not say how, so my friend Mr. Brown, Thought to drink it were far the most handy; "And guards will be placed," it was thus ran the text, I can never forget what the Guards have achieved, Then the "Anderson Troop" came riding along, But all smiled at the ringing and drumming. Yet while they argued, the guns of the foe "They're here, they're here!" was borne on the air, And I walked the streets, and I felt the pain But come when they know we can't beat them, As we do with them ere we meet them." Then into the town incessant poured The hateful stream of the rebel horde; "They had now just come," they deigned to say, "A hasty visit the place to pay;" And kindly promised for hurry this once, To come again and stay for months. And I "laughed in my sleeve," as cried out some gay But still we were sure they were quite too kind; lark, "They've been branding borrowed horses." These "Anderson fellows" had drilled for a while, So with sabres like scythes they came in style, And I saw in my dream, I can't vouch for its truth, Thus ended this part of my dream, when behold, The "War on the Border" began to discover. Unluckily for the "Militia," their fate, Thus peace again reigned, not so much, I suppose, As from a deep-seated conviction that rose And assured them one thing was very clear, We were not at all fond of "butternuts" here. And General Stuart, the rebel chief, But up and away with the early morn As fast as our horses could carry them. We swore long and loud we would parry them. So we shouldered our guns and went out to see But the devil himself couldn't find them. V. The autumn bleak and the winter cold Our fathers, brothers, sons were there, Upraised to punish a nation for sin, At the one little name in the bulletin ; And this is answer enough for her, Whose hopes and all that she loved on earth, And buried afar from the place of his birth; The dreadful sounds of WAR, WAR, WAR, Their bodies at rest in the earth at our feet, And I saw them spring at their country's call, And placed it high on Wagner's wall. From the dens where burrow a subject race, With the monster Death on Wagner's towers, And pronounced a benediction of sorrow: "Sleep sweetly, brave men, for ye this day Have gained for your children a glorious to-morrow." While away in advance of the headlong race, Was a carriage that looked like R-n's, Which seemed like he gwine to leab de place," Through fear of the mighty Jenkins. 'Mid shriek, and yell, and cry, and shout, On, hurried on, the rabble rout, And dust to make us blind, most; And devil take the hindmost. To pay us that long-threatened visit. Or p'rhaps the famous "What is it?" Now Jenkins put up at the best hotel, No foe on his front, no foe on his rear, 'Tis wondrous to tell how he soon sought his way, To that spot on the Spring whose waters are clear, "Dear Harmon," says Jenkins, "I'm glad to be here, And to know you's a great delight, sir, I confess I'm remarkably fond of your beer, As I this day have been treated ;' Impressed, no doubt, with this honest feeling, Except whatever 'the men' might find Still Jenkins had terrible griefs to bear, He affirmed: "He'd be d-d if he'd stand 'em." And so he launched forth in a speech at the rate Of Phoebus's horses when Phaeton sate On the box and drove 'em tandem. "In a peaceable way he had entered the town, Our worthy Town Fathers together." Such was the substance of what he "let fall" "Hollo, dear N, what is that you have there?" "Oh! nothing-or only a trifle." I caught a slight glimpse, and it was, I declare, And then friend F- came along and got booked VII. But Jenkins now returns again, The first to come over the roads was Rhodes, Johnson's, Anderson's, Picket's, and Hood's, McLaw's, and Pender's, and Heath's, until The corps of Ewell and A. P. Hill, And "Bull-dog" Longstreet, all were found From the "change in the wind" we augured a Encamped throughout the neighborhood round, "squall," And not wishing a "change in the weather," In a mode that "did credit "in more ways than one, To the knowledge of these if you wish to attain, Now Jenkins determined to leave us awhile, Or that pistols and guns might harm us. To officers named to make proper disposal, On pain of reprisal for any omissions, And punishment dire for every refusal. But whether compliance was honestly made, And have our names on his books "put down," "Twas really a laughable farce to play, Though done, of course, "to preserve the town.” Such a motley collection of arms I swear, There were swords without hilts and guns without locks, Stocks without barrels and barrels without stocks; A two-ounce vial of powder was seen, And I stood and looked on as my friends passed by, And to whate'er they carried I gave "half an eye." These rebels were flushed with insolent pride, Like the waves of a deep-flowing river, Though endless their gibes and their taunting. While Hood's division was passing through, A lady sporting the "Red, White, and Blue," From a bosom whence traitor ne'er won it, Was hailed by an insolent reb, who cried, As he our own loved emblem spied, "A breastwork, lady, please bear in mind, Hood's boys delight to storm, when they find The Yankee colors on it." These rebs were an ignorant set, to be sure, Among our Southern cousins; "What fur do yo'ns fight us'ns?" A lady, Blackwood says and knows, Moses was passing through; But this time "Moses " might be seen Now Moses (I dreamed) went round to see That all our merchandise might be (In Blackwood find the text) Carefully packed and marked "supplies," To see our goods "annexed." But I suddenly from my dreams awoke, Upon my startled ear; And I looked around, but the foe was gone, ABLE TO DEFEND "THE FLAG."-On the sixteenth of June, a Copperhead meeting was held near Plainfield, N. J. In the immediate vicinity resided an old couple named Jenks, the old gentleman, aged sixty-seven, being a soldier of the war of 1812. During the meeting, Mrs. Jenks, whose age is seventy-one, indignant at the proceedings, got out an old American flag which had seen service, and hoisted it on her house, her husband being absent. The base wretches who participated in the meeting, seeing the flag, determined it should come down, and they forthwith proceeded to the house and demanded of Mrs. Jenks that she should take it down. With all the patriotic indignation of a matron of '76, she refused. They then old, rusty musket, she dared them to try it. Cowed threatened to tear it down. Seizing her husband's by her resolution, and feeling as much shame as such cattle can feel, they sneaked away, leaving the old Stars splendor. Some gentlemen of New-York City, hearand Stripes "still full high advanced" in all its proud BLACK SOLDIERS.—A Western colonel, in a private letter, dated June, 1863, from General Rosecrans's army, to a friend, says: "I want to say a word about darkey soldiers. You probably know more about their fighting than I do, but I am satisfied they will fight like tigers when properly managed; but a more useful attachment to a post than a regiment of them was never made. Weing of the circumstance, came up and took Mr. Jenks have a regiment here, First Mississippi, and without them it would have been impossible for us to do all the guarding and fatigue. They relieve us of the fatigue duty entirely, and have built some fine breast works besides. When soldiers see them hard at work in the hot sun, doing what they would otherwise have to do, the opposition' and 'prejudice' to the plan of organizing and enlisting them soon disappear. It is a wise movement of the Government. Never did any thing give the army more pleasure than the conscription act." THE INDUSTRY OF THE WOMEN OF THE SOUTH-A letter from Lincoln County, Tenn., says: down to that city, purchased for him a magnificent American flag, and bade him give it into Mrs. Jenks's hand, to be hoisted on the Fourth of July ensuing, saying, as they gave it, that they were sure" she was able to defend it and keep it flying."-Newark Mer cury. BARBARITY OF THE YANKEES. TREASURY DEPARTMENT C. S., SECOND AUDITOR'S OFFICE, July 28, 1863. [ GENTLEMEN; I have this day received at my office a series of Yankee returns of our soldiers and citizens, who have been murdered by cold, starvation, and the most cruel and intentional neglect, in the Yankee prisons all over Yankeedom, numbering many thousands. A perusal of these lists is enough, and ought to fire the hearts of every confederate man, woman, and child with the deepest hatred, fury, and the desire of speedy vengeance. Any one desiring to inspect these lists, comprising the bravest and the best soldiers and citizens from all the confederate States, and of the latter especially, from Missouri, Kentucky, and Tennessee, can do so by calling at my office, at the corner of Ninth and Grace streets, from eight A.M. to four P.M. I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant, W. H. S. TAYLOR, Second Auditor, C. S. REBEL LETTERS WRITTEN ON NORTHERN SOIL, "I witnessed many a scene in this rural district, which the gay ladies of our fashionable cities may well ponder on, with the reflection of surprise, of how little they know of the hardships which their sex are forced to undergo to sustain and support their families, while their husbands and brothers are absent fighting the battles of our country. On the small farms throughout this section all is life, activity, and industry. Many a woman who never before held a plough is now seen in the corn-field; many a young girl who would have blushed at the thought of handling a plough-line, now naturally and unconsciously cries, Gee up!' to Dobbin, to the silvery tones of which the good brute read--Richmond Enquirer, August 11. ily responds, as if a pleasure to comply with so gentle a command. Many a Ruth as of old, is seen to-day, binding and gleaning in the wheat-fields; but alas! no Boaz is there to console or to comfort. The picture of Hanover, Pa., July 1, 1863.-The rebel cavalry left the rural soldier's home is at this time but a picture of this vicinity last evening or this morning, and passed primitive life. Throughout the country, at every farm-on by the way of Duke's Mill, Jefferson, and Seven house and cottage, the regular sound of the loom, as Valleys. the shuttle flies to and fro, with the whirl of the spinning-wheel, is heard, telling of home industry. Cotton fabrics, of neat, pretty figures, the production of home manufactory, are now almost wholly worn in Tennessee, instead of calicoes. But it is a sad thought, that while these exertions of thriving industry are being made for the support of the soldier's family, his little cottage home, of which he nightly dreams, is to be abandoned and left unprotected by the falling back of our troops, and subject to the pillage and plunder of the vandal infidels. Such, at least, I fear will be the case in the counties of Bedford and Coffee, from which we have fallen back."-Charleston Courier, July 24. The following correspondence from rebel soldiers to their friends in Dixie was captured this morning: York, Pa., June 20, 1863.-I arrived here yesterday, about eight P.M., finding General Early with his headquarters at the Court-House. York was surrendered by the authorities without a struggle, and ere this reaches you we expect to witness the fall of Harrisburgh. There was a small fight at or this side of Columbia Bridge yesterday, which resulted in driving the Yankees across the river, when they fired the bridge and burned it. The boys are a jovial set of fellows, confident of being able to take Philadelphia. York, Pa., June 29, 1863.-The "rebels" arrived |