I am writing to you, mother, knowing well what you will say,

When you read with tearful fondness all I write to you to-day,

Knowing well the flame of ardor on a loyal mother's

That will kindle with each impulse, with each throb

I have heard my country calling for her sons that stil are true;

I have loved that country, mother, only next to God and you,

And my soul is springing forward to resist her bitter

Can I go, my dearest mother? tell me, mother, can I go?

From the battered walls of Sumter, from the wid waves of the sea,

I have heard her cry for succor, as the voice of God

Oh! hear the choral drum beat— the bugle piercing In prosperity I loved her-in her days of dark distress. With your spirit in me, mother, could I love that country less?

Throw open wide the windows, beloved ones to greet-They have pierced her heart with treason, they have We're ready waiting, eager, our bonny boy to meet.

POETRY AND INCIDENTS.

They have robbed her in her kindness, they have tri- GO, MY BOY, WHERE DUTY CALLS YOU. umphed in her need;

They have trampled on her standard, and she calls me

in her woe:

Can I go, my dearest mother? tell me, mother, can

go?

I

I am young and slender, mother-they would call me yet a boy,

But I know the land I live in and the blessings I enjoy;

I am old enough, my mother, to be loyal, proud, and

true

To the faithful sense of duty I have ever learned from

you.

We must conquer this rebellion; let the doubting

heart be still;

We must conquer it, or perish

and we will!

—we must conquer,

But the faithful must not falter, and shall I be want

ing? No!

AN ANSWER TO "MOTHER, CAN I GO?"

Go, my boy, and Heaven bless you! I have read each

precious line

Of your heart's responsive throbbings to a Higher
Call than mine.

God hath spoken-you have heard Him—and though
tears these eyes bedim,

Your affection for your mother shall not mar your
love for Him.

Could I bid you stay from fondness, when the ever-
ruling Hand
Marks your path to duty clearly for the safety of your

No!

land?

'tis yours to be a patriot, and 'tis mine to prove

Bid me go, my dearest mother! tell me, mother, can Go in faith, and feel protection in a Power Supreme, I go?

Divine;

Should a bullet pierce your body it will also enter mine.

Do I think of this in sorrow? Does my love sad fears renew?

Do I

tremble at the prospect? No, my son, no more

than you.

have trod; Dear to me is every pathway where your precious feet

But I

You

give you fondly, freely, to my country and my

God.

and I shall never falter in the work we have to do;

Go, my boy, where duty calls you, and my heart shall follow you!

I shall pray for you-how often with the waking
hour of morn,
Through the labors of my household, and when night

is coming on.

If a mother's prayers can keep you, 'mid the dangers you incur,

God will surely bring you back again to happiness and her.

I will never doubt the goodness that has kept you until now,

has kept the evil from your heart, the shadow

from your brow;

That

And

I

know that it shall keep you in the path you

Go, my

must pursue;

boy, where duty calls you, and my heart shall follow you!

If my boy were less a hero, less the man in thought and deed,

I had less to give my country in her trying hour of need;

And I feel a pride in knowing that to serve this cause divine,

From the hearthstone goes no braver heart than that which goes from mine.

I have loved you from the hour that my lips first
pressed your brow,

Ever tenderly, but never quite as tenderly as now.
do;
All I have is His who gave it, whatsoe'er He bids me

follow you!
Go, my boy, where duty calls you, and my heart shall

Or, wildly erring, sullen plunge beneath the waters dark. And some, alas! of this brave band their mortal course 'Tis all in vain; our marksmen true, with an unerring

While in her holy, pensive gaze the trembling dew-Down sentry, gunner, soldier, go beneath that leaden

For ye who fell, in manly prime, for Freedom and for
God!

And women's eyes grow dim with tears, and manhood
bows its head

Before thy deeds of valor done, New-England's honored dead.

But not alone for those who die a soldier's death of glory:

Full many a brave, heroic soul has sighed its mournful story

Down in the sultry swamps and plains, where fever's subtle breath

Has drained the life-blood from their hearts, and laid them low in death

As proud a memory yours, O ye who murmured no complaint!

Who saw Hope's vision day by day grow indistinct and faint;

Who, far from home and loving hearts, from all yet held most dear,

Have died. O noble, unknown dead! ye leave a record here!

New-England! on thy spotless shield, inscribe thine honored dead,

ONE of the arts by which the Southern heart is fired is this: Soon after the battle of Murfreesboro, the rebel General Bragg caused to be printed and widely circulated in the army counterfeits of the Nashville Union, in which was conspicuously displayed "Startling News! Four States Seceded from the Old Government! Missouri, Indiana, Illinois, and Kentucky!" This was followed by an editorial bewailing the loss of these States. Of course the whole affair was a forge. ry, but the illiterate soldiery of the South, a large proportion of whom cannot read at all, could not detect it. While Buckner was in Kentucky, bogus copies of the Louisville Journal were freely circulated by the rebels, filled with all kinds of matter adapted to inflame and encourage the rebels, and discourage the loyal.

WILLIAM REID, an old sailor and man-of-war's man, who was on board the Owasco, was one of the heroes of the fight at Galveston. During the hottest mo

ments of the battle between the Owasco and the rebel

batteries, this man, who is forty-eight years of age, received a severe wound while in the act of loading his rifle. His two forefingers on his left hand were shot away, and the surgeon ordered him below, but he refused to go, and tying his pocket handkerchief around his fingers, he remained on deck and did good execu tion with his rifle. Not more than thirty minutes after, another shot struck him in his right shoulder, and the blood spirted out through his shirt. Master's Mate Arbana then ordered him to go below, and have the surgeon dress his wounds. The brave old fellow said: "No, sir, as long as there is any fighting to be done, I will stay on deck!"

After the engagement was over the noble-hearted sailor had his wounds dressed and properly attended

to.

He is now on board the Owasco, and whenever they beat to general quarters you will see William Reid standing at his post ready for orders. He was told one day by the Captain to go below, as he was on the sick-list, and his place was in the hospital; he was displeased with this remark and replied: "No, Captain, my eyes are good and I can pull a lockstring as well as any on 'em!" The lockstring is a lanyard connected with the cap that fires the gun.

Master's Mate Arbana of the Owasco had a very narrow escape from death at the battle of Galveston, three shots having struck him in different places. One of the bullets passed completely through the crown of his cap, another penetrated his pantaloons just below the right knee, taking the piece of cloth And coming nations yet unborn will read, with glow-with it. The third shot struck his sword just as he

Oh! keep their memory fresh and green, when blooms o'er their head;

ing pride,

turf

Of those who bore thy conquering arms, and suffering, fought and died;

Who, foremost in the gallant van, laid life and honor

down

Oh! deck with fadeless bays their names who've won the martyr's crown.

raised it in the air, and ordered his men to give a rousing cheer for "Yankee Doodle." CICERONE

BRAVERY OF CAPT. W. N. GREEN.-Among the interesting incidents of the battle of Chancellorsville, that of the capture of the colors of the Twelfth regi A REGIMENT OF GREYBEARDS-The Thirty-seventh ment, Georgia volunteers, during the battle of Sunregiment of Iowa volunteers (known as the "Grey-day, May third, 1863, by Captain William N. Green, beard Regiment") left St. Louis on Monday for the South. A striking peculiarity of this regiment is, that nearly all its members, officers and men, are over forty-five years of age. Three fourths of them are grey-headed, and many have long white beards, giving them a venerable appearance. Many have sent their sons to the field, and are now following them.

commanding the color company of the One Hundred and Second regiment N. Y. S. V., is worthy of commemoration, as evidence of the fighting qualities of the Nationals, and as an act of personal strength and bravery:

After several days' severe fighting between the United States forces under General Hooker, and the

confederate forces under General Lee, the morning of Sunday, May third, 1863, found the One Hundred and Second regiment, N. Y. S. V., forming a portion of the Twelfth army corps, lying in the trenches on the extreme left of the Federal forces.

The battle commenced at five A.M., and the One Hundred and Second were for several hours subjected to a heavy fire from a battery of the rebels, situated on their right flank; at ten A.M., the enemy's infantry attacked the brigade of which the One Hundred and Second N. Y. S. V. was a part, and succeeded in driving the regiment which was on the right of the One Hundred and Second away in confusion; advancing up the trenches, the enemy charged the One Hundred and Second, and were repulsed. Soon after the One Hundred and Second was charged upon by the Twelfth regiment, Georgia volunteers, and immediately the men of each regiment were engaged in handto-hand conflicts.

The company of the One Hundred and Second N. Y. S. V., which Captain Green commanded, was especially singled out by the enemy for a fierce struggle, as they had charge of the National colors; the captain commanding the Twelfth regiment Georgia volunteers, rushed forward at the head of his men, and made a jump right at Captain Green, calling out to him, Surrender," to which Captain Green replied, "Not yet;" then seizing the rebel captain by the throat with his left hand, he flung him violently to the ground, by tripping him up, and wrenched his sword from his grasp. Captain Green was then seized from behind by an ambulance-sergeant of the rebels, who, putting his knee in the middle of his back, flung him on the ground. Captain Green sprung to his feet, and putting both swords (his own and the rebel captain's) into his left hand, he knocked the ambulance-sergeant down with his right hand.

Captain Green then sprang forward some six feet, and grasped with his right hand the flag-staff of the rebel battle-flag, which the color-sergeant was holding, and said to the color-bearer, "Give me that flag," at the same time pulling the flag-staff away from the sergeant; he then tore the flag from the flag-staff, and flung the staff over the parapet, putting the flag inside the breast of his fatigue-jacket. Captain Green then went to two rebel privates who were a few feet off and demanded them to give up their muskets, which they did. Taking the muskets, he gave them to some of his own company to carry off, and taking the equipments of the two privates, he flung them into a puddle of water near by; then going to the rebel captain he pulled him up off of the ground, and putting him, together with the ambulance-sergeant, the color-sergeant, and the two privates, under charge of two of his company, sent them to the rear, to be placed in custody under the provost-guard.

Thus in the short space of five minutes, Captain Green disarmed one captain, one ambulance-sergeant, and two privates of the Twelfth Georgia volunteers, besides taking their color-sergeant, with his colors, and sending the whole of them, five in number, as prisoners, under guard to the rear.

The rebel flag was one of the confederate battleflags, made of coarse red serge cloth, about four and a half feet square, having a blue Saint Andrew's cross running from each corner; three white stars were in each limb of the cross, and one star in the centre, making thirteen stars in all. The flag was sent to General Hooker by his order; the sword was presented to Captain Green by his brigade commander, for his good conduct during the battle.

A WIFE ON THE BATTLE-FIELD.-The following extract from a letter, dated at Corinth on the sixth of October, 1862, vividly portrays the fearful emotions and anxious thoughts which torture the mind of an observer during the progress of battle, and narrates but one of the many harrowing scenes of war:

"O my friend! how can I tell you of the tortures that have nearly crazed me for the last three days! Pen is powerless to trace, words weak to convey one tithe of the misery I have endured. I thought myself strong before. I have seen so much of suffering that I thought my nerves had grown steady, and I could bear any thing; but to-day I am weak and trembling, like a frightened child.

"But do not wonder at it. My dear husband lies besides me, wounded unto death perhaps. I have lost all hope of saving him, though I thank God for the privilege of being this moment beside him. And besides this, all around me the sufferers lie moaning in agony. There has been little time to tend them, poor fellows. True, the surgeons are busy all the time, but all the wounded have not yet been brought in, and it seems as if the time will never come when our brave men shall have been made comfortable as circumstances may permit. It is awful to look around me. I can see every imaginable form of suffering, and yet am helpless to aid them any of consequence.

"Since night before last, I have not left my husband's side for a moment, except to get such things as I re quired, or to hand some poor fellow a cup of water. Even as I write my heart throbs achingly to hear the deep groans and sharp cries about me. Fis sleeping, but I dare not close my eyes, lest he should die while I sleep. And it is to keep awake, and in a manner relieve my overburdened heart, that I am now writing you under such sad circumstances.

"On the morning of the third instant the fight began. The attack was made on General McArthur's division, and we could plainly hear the roll of the artillery here, as it is about two miles and a half distant only from this place. Oh! the fearful agony of that awful, awful day! I had seen F— a moment early in the morning, but it was only a moment, when he bade me good-by, saying hurriedly as he tore himself away: 'Pray for me, my wife, and, if I fall, God protect you! There was something in his look and tone which struck a chill to my heart, and every moment after I knew the fight had begun I felt as if he had indeed fallen. I cannot tell how long it was before I heard that Oglesby's brigade was engaged, but it seemed an age to me. After that my agony was nearly intolerable. I never had a thought of fear for myself; I was thinking only of F-. Then I got the word that he had been hotly pursued by the rebels, and had fallen back.

"Late in the afternoon I succeeded in gaining a little intelligible information. Poor General Hackleman was shot through the neck, while giving a com mand, and fell mortally wounded. He died between ten and eleven o'clock the same night, I have since learned. Up to the time of receiving the wound he had acted with the greatest bravery and enthusiasm, tempered by a coolness that made every action effective. When dusk at last put an end to the first day's conflict, I learned that General Oglesby had been dan gerously wounded, but could gain no intelligence of my husband. I could not bear the suspense. Dark as it was, and hopeless as it seemed to search for him then, I started out to the battle-field.

"Oh! how shall I describe the search of that night? It looked like madness. It was madness. But all