THE MILITARY CANAL.-After the surrender of the forts at New-Madrid, we (Col. Bissell's Engineer regi- ers. Tools we did not need, for the regiment carries every thing, from the heaviest ropes and screws down to the fine steel drills for unspiking guns. Our route was about twelve miles long, of which two miles were through thick timber, and the remaining ten through narrow, crooked bayous grown up full of brush and small trees. We have cut our way right through, the track being fifty feet wide, in which thirty feet are required for the hulls of the boats. The timber is cut four feet below the surface of the water. In one short stretch we cut seventy-five trees thus deep, not one less than two feet through. The machines were rigged from rafts and our lowest flats, and worked each by about twenty men. In the first place, three large launches went ahead to cut out and push out of the track the underbrush and drift-wood; then three rafts followed, on which were the men, who cut down and cut off the trees; then the saws, then two large lines were provided to run from the capstan of the steamboat, and haul out by snatch-blocks what the men could not handle. Then followed the rest of the fleet, men being engaged all the time converting the flat-boats into floating batteries. This is the hardest job I have ever seen undertaken; but Col. Bissell is so far down now as to call it successful, for we are in sight of the fences on "t'other side of Jordan." The sag of the saw gives the correct are of the cir cle. At each end of the saw, a rope thirty feet in length is fastened and carried to boats upon which men are stationed. Ten men man and work each rope. When the saw runs right, we have cut off a stump Often it two feet in diameter in fourteen minutes. pinched and ran crooked; then a gang would be two or three hours on one of the same size. If there happened to be any brush under water, it added much to the labor. It all had to be fished up and got out of the way.-Rochester Union. A CANARD.-A despatch to the Chicago Tribune, dated Cairo, Ill., May fifteenth, says: "The subjoined circular from Jeff Davis explains itself:" [PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL.] CAPITOL, C. S. A., RICHMOND, SIR: It can no longer be denied that the prospects of success for the Southern Confederacy are gloomy and forbidding. On every hand-whether through lack of skill or the open treachery of the officers of our army and navy, it matters not, we have met with disasters and defeats. With a continuance of such results ere three months shall have passed away our boasted Confederacy will exist only in history. The past shows that we need larger displays of patriotism, military skill, personal bravery, and a firm spirit of devotion to the great cause in which we have enlisted. Unless these requisites develop themselves soon to a fitting extent, we fight in vain. Unless we have more clear indications that the great heart of the people is with us, our efforts will be futile. The govern ment is impotent to retrieve the disasters that have befallen us, and that yet stare us in the face on every hand unless the people rally to its assistance. McClellan is already moving on the Potomac; Halleck's operations in the South-West are at every step successful against us. The Federal army and navy are already menacing the metropolis of the South-West and the key to our granaries. Florida is overrun by Northern invaders, while, wherever we look, we gaze on an advancing army. From the river to the levee, the distance is about five hundred feet. Here the water was shallow and the route full of stumps. It took one whole day to pass this. Then the cut in the levee. Here the fall was over two feet, and the rush of water was tremendous. The largest boat was dropped through with five lines out ahead. Then a corn field overflowed from a cut in the levee. Here was something of a channel cut In this trying emergency the government appeals by the swift water, and we got along well nearly a to the people-to the brave hearts and sturdy wills of quarter of a mile to the woods. Here was the labor- the South. It cries: "Awake! your hands have been two straight and long miles to the nearest point in the put to the plough, and will you now look back and rebayou. This it took eight days to get through. Then pent your past acts? You have struck out nobly for Wilson's Bayou, then East - Bayou, then St. John's independence, pledging your lives and fortunes to its Bayou, which empties into the Mississippi at New-procurement! Will you submit quietly to invasion Madrid. If you have never seen a Southern swamp, you have no idea how thick it is. A New-York elmswamp does not begin. It sometimes took twenty men a whole day to get out a half-sunken tree across the bayou. Such a place as that kept us all back, as none of the rafts or flats could get by, and all had to wait. The water, after we got into the woods, was about six feet deep, with a gentle current setting across the peninsula. In the East-Bayou the current was tremendous, and the boats had to be checked down with heavy head-lines. Here we found some obstructions caused by drift-heaps; but cutting off one or two logs would start all down the current. and desolation of your homes, the destruction or confiscation of your property, and the abandonment of your cherished institutions? Arise! and convince the world that the boasted chivalry of the South is more than a traditional myth." This appeal is made to the country, not openly, but for obvious reasons. We make this appeal to the people through the Governors of the several States comprising the Confederacy, and the officers in command of our armies. To these mediums the circular is sent, with the urgent request that its spirit, if not its letter, be conveyed to every citizen of our struggling republic. First of all, we ask for material aid in money, or such equivalent therefor as will enable us to maintain our army-clothing and provisions will be acceptable as substitutes for money, where the latter cannot be obtained. Second. We need men. The ranks of our armies in the field are constantly being thinned by casualties of battle, the sickness incident to camp life, and the expiration of enlistments. We cannot close our eyes to the facts that the places are not filled so promptly as should be. Let us see the devotion of the country to our cause by their willingness to fight its battles, and, if need be, pour out their blood in its defence. Third. We need the encouraging of the people by a more liberal display of patriotism than has been yet made. The tame submission yielded to the invader wherever he appears is in striking contrast to the boast we have hitherto heard of the readiness that prevailed on every hand to welcome the hirelings with bonfires composed of the dwellings and property of the people. If our land is to be overrun, and the people subjugated, let us leave our conquerors a smouldering waste to reward them for their toil and pains. Burn every hamlet, village and city. Give the forch freely to your cotton and houses. Let the product of your lives be laid waste. Fly yourselves before the invaders where resistance shall no longer avail, and thus display a determination and spirit in the cause in which we are all enlisted, which will give us encouragement to continue the struggle. Wherever the enemy achieves a victory, let it be a bootless victory, so that their bands, led on by the hope of plunder, be discouraged, and we cheered by the manifestations of devotion and patriotism. Once more we exhort you to awake and shake off the lethargy that hangs over you. Strike for the freedom of yourselves, your families, and your homes; strike promptly and boldly, and our confederacy may yet be firmly established. This is our last and only resource. Those who receive this circular will be also summoned, as agents of the government, to advance the purposes indicated. Full letters of instruction will be furnished them. JEFFERSON DAVIS, President C.S.A. WHO RAISED THE FLAG AT YORKTOWN? To the Twenty-second Massachusetts regiment, Col. Gove, and to the Twenty-second alone, belongs the glory of first planting the American flag on the works at Yorktown; of the truth of the statement there is and can be no question. The following brief account can be relied upon: The day before the evacuation, Saturday, May third, the Twenty-second regiment received orders to march to a position within one thousand yards of the enemy's work. Spades were furnished each man. We were then deployed on a line six feet apart, and the order came: "Dig for your lives." Considering that we were completely exposed to a direct fire in front, and to a cross-fire from a water-battery stationed on the opposite side of the river, you may readily believe we hastened to obey orders. Fortunately the enemy did not at once open fire, and our boys had a chance to do some little digging before the storm of ball and shell commenced; but long before the pits were fully completed, their guns were played upon us. Up to twelve o'clock, the enemy had fired one hundred and seventy five shell and shot, and though none of our regiment were killed or wounded, there were many narrow escapes. Lieut. Stiles, commanding second company sharpshooters, in the absence of Capt. Wentworth, barely escaped being struck by a shell. In order to be able to give his men due notice when to dodge at the flash, he bravely and fearlessly exposed himself. In another case, one of the men was entirely buried by a shell striking the earth in front of the pit, and had actually to be dug out by his comrades. During the whole day our boys kept themselves busy, while the sharp-shooters took every chance offered. When evening came, we were ordered back to camp, but before we had got fairly settled, the rebels commenced shelling us again. A piece of a shell struck the Adjutant's tent, and buried itself a foot and a half in the ground. The Adjutant and one of the surgeons were in the tent at the time. At twelve o'clock our siege-guns commenced operations, and the enemy ceased firing. The next morning at five o'clock, the Twenty-second were ordered to go on picket-duty in front of the enemy's lines. The regiment having taken their position, soon discovered that the works were evacuated, and at once marched forward and took possession. There being no colors allowed with a regiment on picket-duty, Col. Gove immediately sent to his camp for the American flag, and with his own hands planted it on the works at Yorktown. At this time there were no other regiments or parts of regiments present under their proper officers; there were simply only a few stragglers, who followed after the Twenty-second. I was present my self when Col. Gove raised the flag, and was within ten feet of the concealed shell, which exploded and wounded seven of our men. The honor of first planting the American flag at Yorktown is not the only glory of which letter-writers would deprive old Massachusetts. All the exploits of the sharp-shooters, have been almost universally attributed to Berdan's regiment. This is both unjust and untrue, for by far more execution and real work has been done by the two Massachusetts companies, the Andrew sharp-shooters, Capt. Jacob Saunders, and the second company sharp-shooters, Twenty-second regiment, Capt. Wentworth, than by the whole of Berdan's regiment. I do not wish to be understood as detracting in the least from that regiment; but I do say, that our Massachusetts companies have the best rifles, weighing from twenty-five to fifty pounds each, and have done the most work. We only wish that we should have credit where credit is due, and that our companies should not be confounded with the Berdans. Permit me, before I close my letter, to give your readers the position in which Gen. McClellan is held by the common soldiers, by the rank and file of the whole army. When I say that Gen. McClellan is be loved, trusted and perfectly idolized by every common soldier in the army, I am not saying one whit more than the bare truth. They will follow him anywhere and everywhere, for they know, to a man, that he will not needlessly or unnecessarily expose them to danger. No matter how great the peril or difficult the task may seem, when he commands they will cheerfully obey, and with the most unbounded confidence, will face any danger or overcome any obstacle. In fact, the feelings toward Gen. McClellan partake almost of adoration. With such a general, the Union cause can never fail. NEW-ORLEANS, LA.-A gentleman up-town, who the other day missed his "boy," learned that the lad was at Carrollton. He at once repaired to the headquarters of Gen. Phelps, and stated his case-that he was in search of a runaway negro. "You have lost a man, have you?" observed the General, inquiringly and dryly. "Yes, sir," responded the other. Very well," said the General, "the negroes are over yonder; if your boy is there, he can go with you if he wishes." The gentleman asked further that a guide might be sent with him, as he did not know the road and paths. Certainly," said the General-“ Orderly, call Major Scott." Presently the Major presented himself, and the General instructed him to conduct the gentleman to the negro camp, and assist him in finding his "boy," and to say to the "boy" that he had his (the General's) permission to return with his master. Thereupon the Major spoke: "General, I am the 'boy' the General is in search of. I do not want to return." This is all I can do," observed the General. The droll part of this incident is, that the General was ignorant of the fact that the gentleman was Scott's master. The "Major" has hitherto been known in darkey circles as a great orator; he is now known as 'Major Scott of the Black Guards." Queer things have come out of secession.-New-Orleans Delta, August 2. 46 SONGS OF THE REBELS. BURN THE COTTON. Burn the cotton! burn the cotton! Let the solemn triumph rise, Fanned by Freedom's breath, its white wing Spreads her banner to the skies. "Melt the bells" is but reëchoed O'er our valley's gathered pride, Lay the cotton on the altar Where our loved have nobly died. Burn the cotton! burn the cotton! With the brave hearts offered there? To hurl back the fell invader, Burn the cotton! burn the cotton! Let it thunder, till its valleys Spreads its dark wing o'er the land, Burn the cotton! burn the cotton! Burn the cotton! burn the cotton! Flaming sparks, instead of seed, Shall be sown in death and terror To the mongrel, Yankee breed, And the crowns who nod attendance On the treacherous Federal's lure, Feel too late, the want and ruin, Unjust favor cannot cure. "It is ordered that hereafter, when any female shall, by word, gesture or movement, insult or show contempt for any officer or soldier of the United States, she shall be regarded and held liable to be treated as a woman of the town plying her vocation."-Butler's Order at New-Orleans. Ay! drop the treacherous mask! throw by Off with disguise! no quarter now To rebel honor! thou wouldst strike Hot blushes up the anguished brow, And murder Fame and Strength alike. Beware! ten million hearts aflame Will burn with hate thou canst not tame! We know thee now! we know thy race! Thy dreadful purpose stands revealed Naked, before the nation's face! Comrades! let Mercy's font be sealed, While the black banner courts the wind, And cursed be he who lags behind! O soldiers, husbands, brothers, sires! Think that each stalwart blow ye give Shall quench the rage of lustful fires, And bid your glorious women live Pure from a wrong whose tainted breath Were fouler than the foulest death. O soldiers, lovers, Christians, men! Think that each breeze that floats and dies O'er the red field, from mount or glen, Is burdened with a maiden's sighsAnd each false soul that turns to flee, Consigns his love to infamy! Think! and strike home! the fabled might Of Titans were a feeble power To that with which your arms should smite And deadlier than the bolts of heaven No pity! let your thirsty bands Drink their warm fill at caitiff veins; Dip deep in blood your wrathful hands, Nor pause to wipe those crimson stains. Slay! slay! with ruthless sword and willThe God of vengeance bids you “kill!” Yes! but there's one who shall not die Another and a sterner doom! A warrior's end should crown the brave- As loathsome, charnel vapors melt, Die like nightmare's hideous thought! "STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAY." We'll make a roaring night. We see him now-the old slouched hat Thy shrewd, dry smile, the speech so pat, Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off! Attention! it's his way. Appealing from his native sod, "Lay bare thine arm, stretch forth thy rod! Amen!" That's "Stonewall's way." He's in the saddle now. Fall in! Steady! the whole brigade! Hill's at the ford, cut off-we'll win His way out, ball and blade! What matter if our shoes are worn? What matter if our feet are torn? "Quick-step! we're with him before dawn!" That's "Stonewall Jackson's way." The sun's bright lances rout the mists Here's Longstreet struggling in the lists, THE LOUISIANA PLANTER.A correspondent, at New-Orleans, of the Boston Transcript says: One old planter came into the hotel to-day, and was anxious to know the prospect for the institution. He was brought up in Northern Alabama, and had moved down in the sugar-district of Louisiana, and at the breaking out of the rebellion was the owner of some ninety slaves. When, in reply to his question, he was told by the officer addressed, that he would not give what little money he had in his pocket for all the slaves in the State, he said that was not the worst of it he had not only lost all but nine or ten of his, but they had joined Butler's black regiment, and he said he had now to show his pass every day to one of his old negroes, who was on guard at his plantation. He took that much to heart, that the negroes, who formerly got their pass from him, had the same power over him now, that he then had over them. On one plantation below, where the negroes had refused to work in a body without pay, at the end of the month the overseer told them he could not get the money, and they must wait till the end of the following month for it. This was on Saturday night, and they were all evidently dissatisfied. Monday morning, at daylight, they had erected a quite respectable gallows, with rope and drop complete, in the main passage-way of the negro-quarters; and they commenced tolling the bell, and collected around the master's house. The overseer came to quiet them, and have them go to work. The negroes absolutely refused, and gave the master notice they would hang him before night, if he did not pay up. He had no money, and was going, as he told them, to start for the city to get it. They refused to let him go till he paid up, and they kept him till the overseer went and returned with the money. They were then paid off, and went to their work at once, singing the Old John Brown song, "Marching On." This song is universal here and westward among the negroes, and is sung here at their churches in New-Orleans, on Sunday, at service. months ago. He afterwards engaged on the ill-fated steamer Star, but left her on the trip just before she was captured and burnt by the guerrillas. He was well liked by his associates on the river, and was a man who would not shrink from personal danger when his duty required him to brave it. MUSIC OF THE PORT ROYAL NEGROES.-The editor of Dwight's Journal of Music publishes a letter from Miss Lucy McKim, of Philadelphia, accompanying a specimen of the songs in vogue among the negroes about Port Royal. Miss McKim acccompanied her father thither on a recent visit, and writes as follows: It is difficult to express the entire character of these negro ballads by mere musical notes and signs. The odd turns made in the throat, and the curious rhythmic effect produced by single voices chiming in at different irregular intervals, seem almost as impossible to place on score as the singing of birds or the tones of an Eolian harp. The airs, however, can be reached. They are too decided not to be easily understood, and their striking originality would catch the ear of any musician. Besides this, they are valuable as an expression of the character and life of the race which is playing such a conspicuous part in our history. The wild, sad strains tell, as the sufferers themselves never could, of crushed hopes, keen sorrow, and a dull daily misery which covered them as hopelessly as the fog from the rice-swamps. On the other hand, the words breathe a trusting faith in rest in the future-in "Ca REV. DR. WATTS, in his Hymns, Book I., hymn 99, naan's fair and happy land," to which their eyes seem says: Vain are the hopes that rebels place Upon their birth and blood, Descended from a pious race, Their fathers now with God. He from the caves of earth and hell A BRAVE MAN'S ADVENTURES. -The New-Orleans Delta says of Charles McGill, Assistant-Engineer of the steamer Empire Parish, who was killed by the Louisiana rebels in the attack upon that steamer: The history of this brave man, during the past few months, has been one of strange adventures and escapes. He was on one of the rebel gunboats in the battle above the forts, on the twenty-fourth of April last, where he was disabled by a ball that had been loosened by a shot. He was lying down in an insensible state, when some one struck his foot against his head. This revived him, and he discovered that the vessel had been abandoned and was on fire. Making a great effort, he threw himself into the river, and swam ashore, where he took refuge in the swamp. Danger followed him even here, for, as one of the vessels blew up, a piece of iron, weighing some two or three hundred pounds, struck within two or three feet of him, having been hurled that distance by the force of the explosion. He was soon found and cared for, brought to this city, and sent to report to the rebel naval officer at Jackson, Mississippi. From there he was ordered to Memphis, and was in the gunboat fight before that city, where his boat was again blown up. From Memphis he came to this city, and has been engaged on the steamers running to and from the coast. He was on the Empire Parish when she was before attacked by guerrillas, some three or four constantly turned. A complaint might be made against these songs on the score of monotony. It is true there is a great deal of repetition of the music, but that is to accommodate the leader, who, if he be a good one, is always an improvisator. For instant, on one occasion, the name of each of our party who was present was dexterously introduced. same As the same songs are sung at every sort of work, of course the tempo is not always alike. On the water the oars dip "Poor Rosy" to an even andante; a stout boy and girl at the hominy-mill will make the 'Poor Rosy" fly, to keep up with the whirling stone; and in the evening, after the day's work is done, Heab'n shall a be my home" peals up slowly and mournfully from the distant quarters. One woman-a respectable house-servant, who had lost all but one of her twenty-two children-said to me: "Pshaw! don't har to dese yar chil'en, misses. Dey just rattles it off; dey don't know how for sing it. I likes 'Poor Rosy' better dan all de songs, but it can't be sung widout a full heart and a troubled sperrit !" All the songs make good barcaroles. Whittier "builded better than he knew" when he wrote his fully applicable as we were being rowed across Hilton 'Song of the Negro Boatman." It seemed wonderHead Harbor among United States gunboats - the Wabash and the Vermont towering on either side. I thought the crew must strike up: "And massa tink it day ob doom Perhaps the grandest singing we heard was at the Baptist Church on St. Helena Island, when a congregation of three hundred men and women joined in a hymn: "Roll, Jordan, roll, Jordan! It swelled forth like a triumphal anthem. That |