moment our southern brethren, every ten of whom have probably seven relatives in the north, would begin to emerge from a hateful delirium. From that moment, relieved from imaginary terrors, their days become happy, and their nights peaceable and free from alarm: the aggregate amount of labor, under the new stimulus of fair competition, becomes greater day by day; property rises in value, invigorating influences succeed to stagnation, degeneracy and decay; and union, harmony and peace, to which we have so long been strangers, become restored, and bind us again in the bonds of friendship and amity, as when we first began our national career, under our glorious government of 1789.

"Why do the leaders of the rebellion seek to change the form of your ancient government? Is it because the growth of the African element of your population has come at length to render the change necessary? Will you permit the free government under which you have thus far lived, and which is so well suited for the development of true manhood, to be altered to a narrow and belittling despotism, in order to adapt it to the necessitics of ignorant slaves, and the requirements of their proud and aristocratic owners? Will the laboring men of the south bend their necks to the same yoke that is suited to the slave? We think not. We may safely answer that the time has not yet arrived when our southern brethren, for the mere sake of keeping Africans in slavery, will abandon their long cherished free institutions, and enslave themselves.

"It is the conviction of my command, as a part of the national forces of the United States, that labor-manual labor—is inherently noble; that it cannot be systematically degraded by any nation without ruining its peace, happiness and power; that free labor is the granite basis on which free institutions must rest; that it is the right, the capital, the inheritance, the hope of the poor man everywhere; that it is especially the right of five millions of our fellow-countrymen in the slave states, as well as of the four millions of Africans there, and all our efforts, therefore, however small or great, whether directed against the interference of governments from abroad, or against rebellious combinations at home, shall be for free labor. Our motto and our standard shall be, here and everywhere, and on all occasions, FREE LABOR AND WORKINGMEN'S RIGHTS. It is on this basis, and this basis alone, that our munificent government, the asylum of the nations, can be perpetuated and preserved.

"J. W. PHELPS,

"Brigadier-General of Volunteers Commanding."

It is a proof of the very great respect entertained for the good general, that the issue of such a proclamation, in the name of the troops, provoked little more than a feeling of astonishment. There was, it is true, some foolish talk of resigning commissions;

and one naval commander relieved his mind by tearing a copy in pieces and throwing it overboard.

"What," asked General Phelps, on hearing of these adverse opinions, "did these officers come down here for? Was it to sacrifice their ease, to waste their time, and perhaps to lay down their lives in a war, simply that a few persons may hold slaves? I did not come for any such purpose. I came to fight, and if anybody is afraid, they had better go home. These people, among whom we have come, do not ask any favors of us, and I ask none of them. I did not come here to steal, but to tell them just what I mean to do."

He declared, further, that his principles were anti-slavery, and he desired the country to know it. He did not, however, wish to harm his countrymen of the South, but believing as he did that slavery was the cause of the war, and all other troubles of any moment that have ever arisen among the American people, he had a right to say so, and could not see the propriety of longer apologizing for such a baneful institution. "And as for those officers," continued he, "who are so fearful that the Union army may do some harm to the rebels, they had better come forward and let us know which side they are on."

A copy, it appears, was taken to the Mississippi shore, and handed to some one found there. It was extensively used in Secessia as fuel for firing the southern heart. In due time, we are told, it was translated for the warning of the people of Cuba, who were invited to compute what would be the value of their slaves if the United States, known to be covetous of Cuba, should succeed in restoring its power by the destruction of slavery in the southern states. General Butler, in common with the whole country, read the proclamation of his brigadier with much surprise, but was far from joining in the hue and cry against it. In transmitting General Phelps's report to head-quarters, he merely remarked: "I need hardly say that the issuing of any proclamation, upon such occasion, was neither suggested nor authorized by me, and most certainly not such an one. With that exception, I commend the report, and ask attention to its clear and business-like statements."

General Phelps, with his quaint and kindly ways, and his efficiency as a commanding officer, soon lived down the clamor excited by his proclamation. The rigor of his rule was alleviated by his

humorous mode of settling difficulties and administering reproof. Two bottles of illicit champagne-cider were brought to his tent one day, and the question occurred what was to be done with the property-value three dollars.

"Orderly," said the general, "strike those bottles together, and see which is the hardest; that is the way to dispose of liquor taken from drunken soldiers."

On another occasion, he called a captain from the line of his regi ment, and addressed him thus:

"Captain everything."

I find that you are exceedingly attentive to

The general paused here for a moment, and the captain waited to hear the conclusion of the compliment. But the general completed the sentence in an unexpected manner; "except your duty," said he. The captain retired to his place amid the titter of the regiment.

December, January, and February passed slowly and drearily by. The island was covered with troops; the fleet augmented in the harbor. The troops being inconveniently crowded, General Phelps sent over a party to the main land to see if there was room and safety there for a portion of his command. A sudden shower of canister from a battery near the wharf of Mississippi City was interpreted to mean that, though there might be room enough, there was not safety. The troops, therefore, were obliged to remain cooped and huddled together on the small part of the island that afforded tolerable camping ground. The monotony of their lives,

these forlorn and restricted circumstances, told upon the spirits of the men. The resigning fever broke out among the officers, and "carried off" several victims. At the end of February, when the last transports arrived, General Phelps learned that the next arrival would be that of General Butler himself, who might be daily expected, and then active operations would begin. But the days passed on, and no general came. Two large steamers were lying in the harbor, at a daily expense to the government of three thousand dollars. Now, General Phelps is one of those gentlemen who take the true view of the public money, regarding it as the most sacred of all money, to be expended with the thoughtful economy with which an honest guardian expends the slender portion of a girl bequeathed to his care by a dying friend. Still unacquainted

with the plans of the government, hearing, too, that General Butler had been lost at sea, the costly presence of those steamers distressed his righteous soul; and, at length, he ordered them home. So there were ten thousand men, on a strip of sand, on a hostile coast, with no great supply of provisions, destitute of any adequate means either of getting away or of getting supplies. A deep despondency settled upon the troops as the month of March wore on, and they vainly scanned the horizon for a smoky harbinger of their expected commander. Fears for his safety received melancholy confirmation, when a vessel arrived, bringing Brigadier-General Williams from Hatteras Inlet, for whom the Mississippi was to have called on her way. For a month, General Phelps waited for General Butler in painful suspense.

The rumors of disaster to the Mississippi were far from groundless. In getting to Ship Island, General Butler had almost as many adventures as Jason in search of the golden fleece. To him, and to his staff, who had already encountered so many obstacles in Massachusetts and at Washington, it seemed now as if gods and men were contending against their expedition. But they were animated with desperate resolution, feeling that only some signal achievement could vindicate their enterprise, and enable them to show themselves again in Massachusetts without shame. The general had assumed so much of the responsibility of the expedition, had borne it along on his own shoulders through so many difficulties, against so much opposition or lukewarm support, that he felt there were two alternatives for him, glorious success or a glorious death. Nor did he suppose for a moment, that the brunt of the affair would fall upon the wooden ships of the navy. He expected powerful aid from the navy, but he took it for granted, that the closing and decisive encounter would be with the Confederate army on the swamps and bayous of the Delta, defended by works supposed by the enemy to be impregnable. Storming parties, scaling ladders, siege guns, headlong assaults into the imminent, deadly breachthese were the means by which he supposed the work was to be finally done, and this was evidently the impression of the secretary of war when he spoke of the reward which would be due to the inan who should take New Orleans.

February 25th, at nine in the evening, the Mississippi steamed from Hampton Roads, and bore away for Hatteras and General

Williams. The weather was fine, and the night passed pleasantly. The morning broke beautifully upon a tranquil sea, and the superb ship bowled along before a fair wind. Landsmen began to fear that they should complete the voyage without having experienced what is so delightful to read about in Byron-a storm at sea. But, in the afternoon-a change, and such a change. The horizon thickened and drew in; the wind rose; and when, at six o'clock, they were eight miles off Hatteras Inlet, there was no getting in that night. The ship made for the open sea, and in so doing, ran within a few feet of perdition, in the form of a shoal, over which the waves broke into foam. The ship escaped, but not the captain's reputation. The general's faith in his captain was not entire before this ominous occurrence, but from that moment it was gone, and he left the deck no more while the danger lasted. The gale increased as the night came on, until at midnight it blew half a hurricane. The vessel being short-handed, there was a rummaging among the sleeping and sea-sick troops for sailors; numbers of whom responded to the call, who rendered good service during the night-their general awake, ubiquitous. It lulled toward morning; and by noon, the wind had ceased. The ship was then so far from Hatteras, that it was determined to give up General Williams, and make straight for the gulf. "All felt relieved," remarks Major Bell in his itinerary, "and such as had desired to see a storm at sea, had had their wildest wish fully realized, and were satisfied."

Again, the magnificent ship went prosperously on her way. The sea-sick struggled on deck; the disheartened were reassured; and those who had lost confidence in the captain had had their faith in the general renewed. The night was serene; the morning fine. At seven, the ship was off Cape Fear, going at great speed, wind and steam co-operating; land in sight; men in high spirits over their coffee and biscuit. At half-past eight, when the general and his staff were at breakfast in the cabin, they heard and felt that most terrible of all sounds known to seafaring men, the harsh grating of the ship's keel upon a shoal. Every one started to his feet, and hurried to the deck. The sky was clear, the land was five miles distant, a light-house was in sight. The vessel ground upon the rocks, but still moved. Her course was altered and altered again; all points of the compass were tried; but still she touched.