fleet. He succeeded in sinking two of the enemy's vessels, capturing fifteen prisoners, and raising the blockade. Hurrah for the horse marines! Hurrah for Magruder!-Houston Telegraph, May 26. HEROISM OF MISS SCHWARTZ. GENERAL BROWN'S ORDER. On the night of the sixth inst. a party of bushwhackers, some three in number, visited the house of a Mr. Schwartz, about twelve miles from Jefferson City, in Cole County, and on demanding admittance they were refused by Miss Schwartz, a young lady of fifteen. They replied they would come in, at the same time trying to break down the door. While this was going on, the other inmates of the house, namely, Mr. Schwartz, John Wise, Captain Golden, Government horse-dealer, and a young man in his employ, all left, taking with them (as they supposed) all the arms and ammunition. In their hasty retreat they left behind a revolver, which Miss Schwartz appropriated to her own use. She went to the door, and on opening it presented the pistol to the leader of the gang, telling them to "Come on, if they wanted to, and that some of them should fall, or she would." They threatened to kill her if she did not leave the door. She replied: "The first one who takes one step toward this door dies, for this is the home of my parents, and my brothers and sisters, and I am able to and shall defend it." Seeing that she was determined in her purpose, and after holding a consultation together, they left. Here is an instance of true courage; a young girl of fifteen years of age, after all the inmates of the house, even her father, had fled, leaving her alone to her fate, with a courage worthy a Joan of Arc, boldly defended her native home against three blood-thirsty and cowardly ruffians, and by her coolness and heroic daring succeeded in turning them from their hellish designs. It is with feelings of no ordinary pride and pleasure the Commanding General announces this act to the citizens and soldiers in his district. On the other hand, those miserable cowards who deserted this brave girl in the hour of danger, flying from the house, leaving her to her fate, are unworthy the name of men, deserve the scorn and contempt of the community at large, and whose society should be shunned by every one who has the least spark of honor or bravery with them. By order of Brigadier-Gen. BROWN. HEROES OF GETTYSBURGH. HARRISBURGH, PA., Nov. 3, 1963. FRANK MOORE, ESQ.: DEAR SIR: Perhaps this is too late. Perhaps it is not good enough to appear in the REBELLION RECORD. It is nevertheless true, and although its author does not pretend to be a poet, he would wish to record the instance, the singularity of which may attract readers to it, and cause it to be remembered. The hero, Weed, was a citizen of New-York. Hazlett I know nothing except that he was a dear friend of Weed's, and in the same regiment, the Fifth United States artillery, a First Lieutenant, and appointed from Ohio. AN INCIDENT AT GETTYSBURGH. "On to the Round Top!" cried Sykes to his men; Of Weed's fierce artillery foremost in fight; Rebels! prepare ye for death or for flight: Weed's fierce artillery, dreaded of old, Belching destruction-refulgent as gold. On toward the Round Top, revolve the strong wheels, Lee's serried ranks are mowed down as the corn Bold Mississippians, pause and take breath, Hazlett, come hither," sighed Weed as he lay; "Hither, my friend-I have something to say." Hazlett rushed forward, bent down, raised his head— Whistles a minié-ball-Hazlett is dead! Long may History's muse her fair pages adorn The verses are not worth having a name affixed to them. For the facts, however, I am responsible, they having been related to me by an officer of the United States army, in whom I have I am respectfully yours, HARRISBURGH, PA. entire confidence. DRUM. BY J. R. G. PITKIN. I. Drum! JAMES WORRALL Drum! drum drum! drum! Drum! On they come. While throbs a stern, responsive beat Of martial lines of measured feet, Down, down the stony street. And thousands wait At door and gate, Rouse abject tears, God's will be doneGod bless them all! For such have won Half, ere their call! There woman stands In vain, in vain- As horrors thrill All, all confess A keen distress! On they come. Here where the foe in grim array And the horrid yell Of shot and shell From lip and breast "Twixt sigh and moan- Glares 'gainst the sky! Drum! drum! drum! On they go! Blow on, blow! Drum! drum! Ha! here they come; All, fraught with fear, Drum! drum! God! what a shriek! Pierced one poor heart! Hath stunned to rock! God stay the fang! God bless them all! Ah! few remain Of that red day! And brows sublime With scars and grime! And slowly throbs that solemn beat Of martial lines of weary feet That proudly wakes the awe-struck throng; REQUIEM. Requiem Eternam dona iis, Domine ! Father, with thee, God of the free! Dumb is the cannon's throat, Pillowed on foes o'erthrown; Them shall the thunder's roar Rouse up amain. Theirs is that olden sleep, So sleep the dutiful, Fast closed the fight round them, Night of the sulph'rous smoke, Oh! they fought fearfully, On for the free, Close up each ghastly wound Lift them up from the ground, Wrap round each gory form, Torn though it be, The star of the battle-storm, Flag of the free! Calm is their slumber now; Fame on each bloody brow Sits like a star, Gleaming through death and night, With a celestial light Streaming afar! Drop no tears vain on them! There is no stain on them; Earth shall now tell How, glad with life to seal Of valor and doom Their brows for the tomb! She spoke no word, she breathed no sigh ; "Ah! sir, my boy! my brave, bright boy!" In broken voice, she said; "My only son! my only joy! My brave, bright boy is dead!" "Sorrow is sacred!" and the eye "And when my boy, with burning brow, Told of the nation's shame-- "I blessed him; and I bade him go- "In camp-on march-of picket round— "And when the fleet was all prepared He all his comrades' feelings shared- "He told the general, he would ne'er But, though the waves he did not fear, It chilled his heart to think "How drear the flowerless grave must be, Beneath the ocean's foam, And that he knew 'twould comfort me To have him die at home. "They tell me that the general's eye GOD BLESS THE BRAVE MAN! with a sigh "Quick down the vessel's side came he; "The boat came bounding o'er the tide; He sprang upon the strand; God's will be done! my bright boy died, Ye, who this artless story read, If Pity in your bosoms plead And "Heaven has blessed your store If broken-hearted woman meek, Can win your sympathy-go, seek That childless widow's door! PHILADELPHIA, February 3, 1862. A SCOUTING EXPEDITION. Scouting is a very pleasant business if one is fond of novelty and adventure, and does not mind taking the chances of the weather and of meeting the enemy in too great force. I went out on an expedition of this kind a short time since, and found it quite as agreeable as I had anticipated. The object of our foray was not to reconnoitre, but to pick up strag gling rebel soldiers and guerrillas, of whom there are many in the country, not far outside of our lines. Secesh soldiers get furloughs to visit their friends in this portion of the State, and many of them are sent here to glean information regarding our army. During the day they remain concealed, or play the role of peaceful citizens; but, when night arrives, they often collect in squads and capture or shoot pickets, or commit other depredations. Hence expeditions, such as the one I accompanied, always go out in the night. Small parties are the best for this purpose, and ours consisted of four men besides Captain Newcomb and myself. The Captain had information that five men of the Stafford Rangers were in the country, about ten miles outside of our lines. All of these men had families or friends in the neighborhood, and were stopping at their own homes or at those of acquaintances. They were mostly furloughed men, but were fond of amusing themselves by getting together and capturing an occa sional Yankee picket, for the sake of the spoils, such as horses, arms, and equipments, which are important to the ill-supplied rebels, and worth some trouble and risk to obtain. Indeed, a poorly clad rebel will frequently risk life and liberty with the prospect of capturing a blanket or an overcoat. We knew the rendezvous of the party we were after and the residences or stopping-places of most of them. Some of the same clan had already been captured by Captain Newcomb. If it should be one of their gather ing nights, there was a chance that we might take the whole party together; otherwise, our design was to take the individuals from their abiding-places. morning, having made a circuit of perhaps thirty miles during the night. Such is a scouting expedition, with less than average results. INTERCEPTED REBEL MAIL. We were piloted by a scout named Hogan, one of those who became so efficient under Sigel's directionthan whom no general in the army appears so well to understand the business and the benefits of scouting. Hogan and all the privates of our party belong to the First New-York Mounted Rifles, captured a large rebel June 16.-A day or two since Major Wheelan, of the First Indiana cavalry, a detachment recruited as a body-mail near the North-Carolina State line, which was desguard, and which has acted as such under Rosecrans, tined for Richmond. The greater number of the letters in Western Virginia, Fremont, Sigel, and is now with General Howard. were written in Portsmouth and Norfolk. Many of them referred to the Union forces of the vicinity, and copious clippings from the columns of the Northern papers were included. The mail was delivered to General Peck. One of the letters which has been handed to your correspondent covers fifteen pages of closely written letter paper, and is extremely variegated in sentiment. From grave political questions it few extracts will not be amiss, and here they are: diverges into the most common household affairs. A Better soldiers than those of this guard do not exist, and their "story" is much more worthy of being told, while it would be more interesting, than that of the Missouri Guard to which Mrs. Fremont devotes a book. It was this guard, with some of the Sixth Ohio cavalry, that, led by Captain Dahlgren, made the famous raid into Fredericksburgh last fall, and which rebels even confess was the most daring feat of the war. The story is worth repeating. Fifty-two men, more than fifty miles from any support, pierced through the enemy's pickets, forded the Rappahannock, and dashed into Fredericksburgh, which was occupied by five hundred rebel cavalry, of whom they killed and wounded a number, and at one time captured one hundred and twenty, bringing off over forty, recrossing the river and returning with a loss of one man killed and one taken prisoner. The rebels were so badly scared that many of them did not pause in their flight until they reached another body of troops several miles below Fredericksburgh. To return to the narrative of our expedition-which, however, will be found to amount to very little. We started at about four o'clock P.M., and travelled by unfrequented roads and paths through the woods, fording creeks, picking our way among trees and transcending fences in a rather aboriginal style. We did not find our nomadic friends at their rendezvous, and it was necessary to seek for them at their several places of abode. This is a rather unpleasant business for men of humanitarian feelings - -as all of our party were for one does not like to batter at doors in the dead of night, frightening women and children out of their wits when they peep out and behold armed men surrounding their domicil and hear them thundering for admittance. A soldier's duty in such a case is plain, for it will not do to let a house which may conceal a rebel soldier, or perhaps arms and supplies, remain unsearched. When a hastily dressed dame appears with a tallow candle and a supplicating air, her fears must be quieted in the most delicate manner, and if she assumes the indignant and hurls all sorts of epithets at the Yankee barbarians, a little pleasant raillery suffices; but, in either case, the search must be proceeded with. When these people find that they are treated with courtesy, and that all their rights are respected as much as is consistent with military necessities, they soon lay aside the one sort their demeanor of apprehension and the other of railing scorn. In most of these houses will be found supplies of provisions concealed in cellars and garrets, and in some cases arms and munitions of war. We were not fortunate on this occasion, and it would seem that those we sought had information of our approach. We found but one rebel soldier comfortably sleeping in his bed, and his gun was discovered hid in a closet. Two horses were found in the stable, one of which had evidently been captured, as it was branded U.S." We reached camp about sunrise the next VOL. VII.-POETRY 6 "MY DEAR BOYs: The Yankees presume that we rebels have no rights. Even the market-carts and oyster-boats have to hoist the Yankee flag. The Yankees force their way into the houses of respectable citizens, under all sorts of false pretexts, and when they can't get in at the doors they come through the traps on the roof. The old white cow went dry last week, and the rest of the family are very well. Hoping that you are the same, I remain devotedly, "S" Many other letters are as ridiculous as the above few sentences, which are copied from the lengthy epistle. BALTIMORE, June 25, 1863.-Upward of two years ago, in these very streets, the Massachusetts volunteers, while marching to defend the national capital, were assaulted by a mob. To-day, an armed guard patrols every corner and square of the city; and for two whole years a rebellious population have been taught the bitter lesson of loyalty by the threatening guns of Fort McHenry. Strolling along Eutaw, or any of the principal streets, of an evening, your ear will probably catch, as mine has already, some fragment of conversation like the following: Miss Blank is sitting upon her door-step, musing, with her large, dark eyes fixed absently upon the heavens above her. A gentleman in linen trowsers is directly ahead of you. The shadowy form of the sentry is about disappearing in the ill-lighted street a few yards further on. The gentleman recognizes Miss Blank, and inquires is she enjoying the breeze, or makes some other equally intellectual remark. "Oh! no," Miss Blank replies in a subduci, melancholy tone, "I had not thought of the breeze; it |