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And feels the weakness of his prophecies
Of failure of free government-and long,
Yes, long before the tyrant struggling dies,

Will innovation's cheering, strengthening song,
From his own people rise, a liberated throng.

· O solid keystone of the Union's arch!

Will any dare to scoff or scorn at thee?
Where are the warriors whose victorious march
Secured for us our sacred liberty?

Hark! call them from their resting-place to be
The judges of the man who dares deny
Unto this useful code supremacy;

From Bunker Hill and Yorktown they pass by,

And let the cannon's awful thunder sound,

Now beating in wild ways through freedom's air,
Startle the people to a thought profound,

To watch the brazen war-cloud's sullen glare.
And let not souls be sinking with despair;
For twice before the cannon's fearful roar
Omened the breaking of a day more fair

Of constitutional liberty-what more

Should stir the ruler's soul who sways upon this
shore?

For this, our fathers fought, and bled, and died;
And this is ours by dying testament.

And if for this our soldiers side by side
Are shedding blood, and living in the tent,

And blast the traitorous wretch, with lightning in Then victory to our armies will be sent.

each eye.

Thou art the heart of all this mighty land!

Thou art the soul of freedom and of right!
Thou art our ruler; at thy high command

The people raise their voice to praise or blight.
Thine is the arm of law and warring might,
The all that is American thou art!

And if in foreign war or civil fight,

Columbia's arm will shield her noble heart,

The fierce and bloody strife will but new strength impart.

Where art thou, mighty one, whose noble form

At Valley Forge, was bowed in fervent prayer?
That never bowed before the battle's storm,

But humbly sought the God of battles there;
Then sought the British lion in his lair?
And when at Princeton, on the cheeks of those
Thy countrymen-thou saw'st by morning's glare
A blanching! Then thy mighty form uprose,
With flaming eye and cheek, and led them to their

foes.

Dost thou not from the spirit-land above,

But if a vile ambition sheds our gore,

In vain are noble hearts asunder rent!

In vain our fathers' graves are trampled o'er !
Since God has never owned the wrong upon this
shore.

EAST-SPRINGFIELD, OHIO.

THE REBEL PRESS ON THE GETTYSBURGH BATTLE.

- the

General Lee's magnificent victory at Gettysburgh has, doubtless, cost us very dear, as many of us will know too well when the sad details come in. At present we have only the great and glorious result greatest army of the Yankee nation swept away, trampled under foot, and all but annihilated upon its own soil-the best part of Pennsylvania laid under contribution to sustain our army, and, in some small measure, make good our heavy losses; the second city on the continent open to our armies, and already reckoning up the number of millions it must pay to ransom it from pillage and conflagration; our own city of Baltimore waiting its deliverance with a passionate but secret joy; and Washington, that foul den of thieves, expecting the righteous vengeance of heaven for the hideous crimes that have been done within its walls. In Philadelphia, how the Quakers quake this day! In Washington, how the whole brood of Lincoln and his rascal ministers turn pale-how their knees smite together as they hear from afar off the roar of their grand army of the Potomac rolled back in bloody rout and dismay, and see flashing through their guilty which dreams the avenging bayonets of those they dared to call "rebels!" Ha! does their monstrous crime weigh heavy on their souls to-day? Mingling with the cheers that greeted the sweet perorations of their Fourth of July "orators of the day," do their ears hear the wail of the homeless and the fatherless whose houses they have laid in ashes, whose pride and strength they have laid low in the graves of a hundred battle-fields? Yes, they begin to feel that they were in the wrong; that there was some mistake somewhere; and for the first time they pray for peace.

Watch thy proud child of freedom, and behold, With kind remembrance and undying love,

Thy Government's strong principles unfold, Wherever our bright banner is unrolled,

Causing the hearts of the oppressed to burn With fervent zeal, that never will grow cold, Until the groaning millions rise and spurn The tyrant's yoke, and gain the power for they yearn?

O thou-and those who girt thy form around-
In battle and in council not too soon
Your warning voices thunder from the ground,
And shake the silence of Columbia's noon :
Oh! tell thy heirs, the precious, cherished boon
Of liberty to them to guard is given,
While beam the stars on high, or shines the moon
Upon the land so favored of high heaven;
For which that Constitution from tyrant's hands was

riven !

And tell them, too, that that old Ship of State
Must pass the rocks and shoals of civil war ;
And if it sinks, then freedom shares its fate,

And darkness soon must cover every star.
Hark! hear the wail of millions from afar !
And mark the tears of sons of Washington.
Cursed be the hand that's ever raised to mar
The title to our birthright-let the sun
Ne'er rise to witness such destruction if begun.
VOL. VII.-POETRY 4

that our peace commissioners will have several other But this is only their first lesson. It is probable such to administer before the enemy shall be perfectly satisfied that there is no possible peace for him until he withdraws every soldier from the soil of every State, including Missouri, Kentucky, Maryland, and Delaware, and yield up to their lawful owners every town and fort he holds all around our borders. Cincinnati, for example, would, we are assured, burn well.

The Dispatch has the following:

"In the present instance the very enormity of the loss in prisoners attributed to the enemy excites incredulity, although no man doubts that he reporter stat

Burns having received three wounds, was left also not being able to get away. There he lay in citizen's dress, and if the rebs found him in that condition, he knew death was his portion. So he concluded to try strategy as his only hope. Soon the rebels came you doing here?" "I am lying here wounded, as you see," he replied. "Well, but what business have you to be here, and who wounded you, our troops or yours?" "I don't know who wounded me, but I only know that I am wounded and in a bad fix." "Well, what was you doing here-what was your business?" "If you will hear my story, I will tell you. My old

ed accurately the prevalent belief in Martinsburgh at the time. We feel as well assured that General Lee, if he has met the enemy in a pitched battle, has inflicted a terrible blow upon them, as we do that we are living, breathing, sentient beings. Whether the details be precisely such as the telegraph gives us is an-up, and approached him, saying: “Old man, what are other matter. If General Lee has, after a hard-fought battle, taken forty thousand prisoners, he has gained one of the most complete victories on record. He has utterly destroyed the only obstacle that stood between him and Baltimore, and we can see no reason why he should not be in that city to-morrow night. The force to defend it consists entirely of militia, many of them but ill-affected; and they have within the city a dead-woman's health is very poor, and I was over across ly enemy, as numerous as themselves, panting for revenge, and ready to rise on the first opportunity. In the panic which must follow such an astounding overthrow, nothing can be easier than to march in and take possession."

EPITAPH FOR GENERAL MEADE.-The following epitaph, from the grave-stone of an infant, should be placed upon the monument of Meade :

"If so soon I'm done for,

Wonder what I was begun for."

-Richmond Enquirer.

A HERO OF GETTYSBURGH.-The following thrilling incident was related to the editor of the Bradford Argus, by B. D. Beyea, who spent several days on the battle-field in search of the body of Captain C. H. Flagg, who fell in that terrible fight:

In the town of Gettysburgh lives an old couple by the name of Burns. The old man was in the war of 1812, and is now nearly seventy years of age, yet the frosts of many winters has not chilled his patriotism or diminished his love for the old flag, under which he fought in his early days. When the rebels invaded the beautiful Cumberland Valley, and were marching on Gettysburgh, Old Burns concluded that it was time for every loyal man, young or old, to be up and doing all in his power to beat back the rebel foe, and if possible, give them a quiet resting-place beneath the sod they were polluting with their unhallowed feet. The Old Hero took down an old State musket he had in his house and commenced running bullets. The old lady saw what he was about, and wanted to know what in the world he was going to do? said Burns, "I thought some of the boys might want the old gun, and I am getting it ready for them." The rebels came on. Old Burns kept his eye on the lookout until he saw the Stars and Stripes coming in, carried by our brave boys. This was more than the old fellow could stand; his patriotism got the better of his age and infirmity-grabbing his musket he started out the old lady halloaed to him. "Burns, where are you going?" "Oh!" says Burns, "I am going out to see what is going on." He immediately went to a Wisconsin regiment and asked them if they would take him in. They told him they would, and gave him three rousing cheers.

"Ah!"

The old musket was soon thrown aside and a firstrate ride given him, and twenty-five rounds of cartridges.

The engagement between the two armies soon came on, and the old man fired eighteen of his twenty-five rounds, and says he killed three rebs to his certain knowledge. Our forces were compelled to fall back and leave our dead and wounded on the field, and |

the country to get a girl to help her, and coming back before I knew where I was, I had got right into this fix, and here I are." "Where do you live?" inquired the rebels. “Over in town, in such a small house." They then picked him up and carried him home and left him. But they soon returned, as if suspecting he had been lying to them, and made him answer a great many questions, but he stuck to his old story, and they failed to make any thing out of old Burns, and then left him for good.

He says he shall always feel indebted to some of his copperhead neighbors for the last call, for he believes some one had informed them of him. Soon in the wall about six inches above where he lay on his after they left, a bullet came into his room and struck sofa, but he don't know who fired it. His wounds proved to be only flesh wounds, and he is getting well, feels first-rate, and says he would like one more good chance to give them a rip.

Old Burns is the great hero of the battle; his home is thronged with visitors. Governor Curtin and many other distinguished men have called on him, and have made him valuable presents.

Now mark the contrast between Burns, who had risked his life to save his country, and lay there on his couch wounded and bleeding from three different wounds, and his copperhead neighbors, who, no doubt, sent the rebels back to cut his throat; and if they had been the one hundredth part as mean as their sympathizers, would have done it. He has but little doubt that after the rebels left him for good, those fiends in human shape, finding the rebels had some pity for suffering humanity and spared his life, tried to kill him themselves by firing at him in his own home.

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Mississippi Water, vintage of 1492, superior, $3. Limestone Water, late importation, very fine, $2.75. Spring Water, Vicksburgh brand, $1.50. Meals at all hours. Gentlemen to wait upon themselves. Any inattention on the part of servants will be promptly reported at the office.

JEFF DAVIS & Co., Proprietors. CARD. The proprietors of the justly celebrated Hotel de Vicksburgh, having enlarged and refitted the same, are now prepared to accommodate all who may favor them with a call. Parties arriving by the river or Grant's inland route, will find Grape, Canister & Co.'s carriages at the landing or any dépôt on the line of intrenchments. Buck, Ball & Co. take charge of all baggage. No effort will be spared to make the visit of all as interesting as possible

THE SURRENDER OF VICKSBURGH.

A Vicksburgh correspondent of the Cincinnati Commercial gives the following interesting particulars of the surrender of the city:

As melancholy a sight as ever man witnessed, for brave men conquered and humbled, no matter how vile the cause for which they fight, present always a sorrowful spectacle, and these foes of ours, traitors and enemies of liberty and civilization though they be, are brave, as many a hard-fought field can well attest. They marched out of their intrenchments by regiments upon the grassy declivity immediately outside their fort; they stacked their arms, hung their colors upon the centre, laid off their knapsacks, belts, cartridge-boxes and cap-pouches, and thus shorn of the accoutrements of the soldier returned inside their works, and thence down the Jackson road into the city. The men went through the ceremony with that downcast look so touching on a soldier's face; not a

word was spoken; there was none of that gay badinage we are so much accustomed to hear from the ranks of regiments marching through our streets; the few words of command necessary were given by their own officers in that low tone of voice we hear used at funerals. Generals McPherson, Logan, and Forney, attended by their respective staffs, stood on the rebel breastworks overlooking the scene never before witnessed on this continent. The rebel troops, as to clothing, presented that varied appearance so familiar in the North from seeing prisoners, and were from Texas, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Georgia, and Missouri; the arms were mostly muskets and rifles of superior excellence, and I saw but very few shot-guns, or indiscriminate weapons of any kind; it was plain that Pemberton had a splendidly-appointed army. Their flags were of a kind new to me, all I saw being cut in about the same dimensions as our regimental colors, all of the single color red, with a white cross in the centre.

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The ceremony of stacking arms occupied little over an hour upon that part of the lines, and when it was concluded, the glittering cavalcade of officers, FedeIral and rebel, mounted and swept cityward on the full gallop, through such clouds of dust as I hope never to ride through again. A few minutes fortunately, brought us to a halt at a house on the extreme outskirts of the city, built of stone in the Southern fashion, with low roof and wide verandahs, and almost hidden from view in an exuberance of tropical trees, and known as Forney's headquarters.

And here were gathered all the notables of both armies. In a damask-cushioned armed rocking-chair sat Lieutenant-General Pemberton, the most discontented looking man I ever saw. Presently there appeared in the midst of the throng a man small in stature, heavily set, stoop-shouldered, a broad face, covered with a short, sandy beard, habited in a plain suit of blue flannel, with the two stars upon his shoulder, denoting a Major-General in the United States army. He approached Pemberton and entered into conversation with him; there was no vacant chair near, but him a seat, and thus for five minutes the conqueror neither Pemberton nor any of his generals offered stood talking to the vanquished seated, when Grant turned away into the house and left Pemberton alone with his pride or his grief-it was hard to tell which. Grant has the most impassive of faces, and seldom, if ever, are his feelings photographed upon his countenance; but there was then, as he contemplated the result of his labors, the faintest possible trace of inward satisfaction peering out of his cold gray eyes. All this occupied less time than this recital of it, and meantime officers of both armies were commingled, conversing as sociably as if they had not been aiming at each other's lives a few hours before. Generals McPherson and Logan now turned back toward our camps to bring in the latter's division, and a party specially detailed galloped cityward, about a mile distant for the purpose of hoisting the flag over the Court-House.

Lieutenant-Colonel William E. Strong, assisted by Sergeant B. F. Dugan, fourth company Ohio independent cavalry, and followed by a numerous throng of officers, soldiers, and civilians, ascended to the cupola of the court-house, and at half-past eleven o'clock on the Fourth of July, 1863, flung out our banner of beauty and glory to the breeze.

In addition to the arms borne by the captives, fifteen thousand Enfield rifles, intended for the use of Kirby Smith's army, fell into our possession. Kirby's

men are badly off for shooting-irons, I am told, and Pemberton was to have made an effort some time since to send the English rifles to him.

We have taken twenty-seven eight-inch and ten-inch guns, and several pieces of English manufactureBrooks, Armstrong, and Whitworth. One hundred and nine pieces of light artillery have already come to light. We captured twelve of their field-batteries at Black River and Champion Hills. They had on hand at the time of surrender, fifteen tons of cannon-powder, besides what was in the different service magazines. Their rifle cartridges were nearly exhausted. Rebel officers told me that at the rate they had been firing they had ammunition enough to last them for two weeks.

The following paragraphs are from the Vicksburgh correspondence of the St. Louis Republican:

Pemberton was of course the chief attraction. He is in appearance a tall, lithe built and stately personage. Black hair, black eyes, full beard, and rather a severe if not sinister expression of countenance, as of one who had great trials of the soul to endure. He is, you know, a native of Philadelphia, who is said to have been enamored early in life of the charms of a Southern lady, and since then has cast his lot with her friends. He is a trusted friend of the President, who, it is thought, would have spared nothing of men or means to aid him in this extremity.

The greatest curiosities are the caves hewn into the banks of earth, in which the women and children and non-combatants crept during the heat of the bombardment. At night, and sometimes during an entire day, the whole of these people would be confined to these caverns. They are constructed about the height of a man and three feet wide, a fork Y shaped into the bank. There are perhaps five hundred of these caves in the city around the works. As many as fifteen have been crowded into one of them.

AN INCIDENT AT THE BATTLE OF GETTYSBUrgh.

General Schimmelfennig escaped capture by resorting to a dodge worthy of the sharpest Yankee. When he found his retreat cut off, he seized the coat of a private and buttoned it closely over his uniform; he was knocked known and run over by a gang of rebels who were after plunder. He then stumbled away into a cellar, and lay there concealed and without food for two days, but when he heard the boys playing "Yankee Doodle" in the streets, he thought it safe to come out. He is now in command of his brigade and ready for work.

COLONEL C. F. TAYLOR.

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THE DEAD AT VICKSBURGH.-They lay in all positions; some with musket grasped as though still contending; others with the cartridge in the fingers just ready to put the deadly charge where it might meet the foe. All ferocity had gone. Noble patriots! uninhabited tenements! ye rest here now in security! Your portals whence the spirits fled are as calm and pale as moonlight upon snow-as though no sweet draped your hearts in ivy-as though mirth had never love had ever woven for ye myrtle wreaths, nor death smiled nor sorrow wept where all is now silent. with its dangers, earth with its perplexities, neglect and poverty with their pangs, slander with its barb, the dear heart-broken ones at home-all fail to call ye back to strife. A dark and fearful shadow has crept over the land and gathered ye in its gloom. O the tears that will be shed! O the hearths that will be desolated! Eyes will look in vain for your return to the hearths that ye once gladdened, while Fame crowns ye with its laurels, and the land of the hereafter welcomes ye as "they who saved the land."

War

A remarkably sweet and youthful face was that of a rebel boy. Scarce eighteen, and as fair as a maiden, with quite small hands, long hair of the pale golden hue that auburn changes to when much in the sun, and curling at the ends. He had on a shirt of coarse white cotton, and brown pants, well worn; while upon his feet were a woman's shoes of about the size known as "fours." Too delicate was his frame for war; perchance some mother's idol. His left side was torn by a shell, and his left shoulder shattered. Poor misguided boy! Hyacinth was scarce more delicately beautiful than he. Mayhap he had his Apollo too.

Two men who had caught at a fig tree to assist slain in all probability by an enfilade fire from their them up a steep embankment lay dead at its feet, right; the branch at which they caught was still in their grasp. Some could not be recognized by their nearest friends. Several were headless-others were armless; but the manner of their death was always plain. The Minié left its large, rather clear hole; the shell its horrid rent; the shrapnel and grape their clear, great gashes, as though one had thrust a giant's spear through the tender, quivering flesh.

In one trench lay two, grasping the same weaponfriend and foe. Across their hands fell a vine, the end upon the breast of the rebel, where it had fallen with them from an elevation above; the roots still damp with the fresh earth; upon it was a beautiful

KILLED AT THE BATTLE OF GETTYSBURGH, JULY SECOND. passion flower in full bloom and two buds; the buds

He fell as many a hero falls,

Untimely, in the fearful fray, Who only asks where duty calls,

Then bravely leads the ordered way. Undaunted by the battle storm,

"Come on, come on, my boys!" he cried; Dismayed they saw his reeling form,

But conquered where their leader died.

And now he sleeps the endless sleep;

Naught shall disturb that blest repose. Though friends may sigh and kindred weep, His heart no pain nor sorrow knows.

were stained with blood-the flower as bright as was the day when the morning stars sang together. On the faces of both was the calm that follows sleeprather pale, perhaps, but seeming like him of old, of whom it was said, "He is not dead, but sleepeth." But ah, the crimson! All is not well where earth is stained with blood. In some places the dead were piled, literally, like sacks of grain upon the shore.

It is remarkable with what patience the fatally wounded, they who already stood upon the shore, bore their sufferings. Some knew that they could not recover, but bore it manfully. Sometimes a tear, and a low voice would say, "My sweet wife," or "Darling," "Mother," "God forgive "a quiver, then all

was over. Let us hope that friend and foe alike found favor in His sight where all is well.

Death is life's mystery-that undiscovered country whence none return-in no place so great and marvellous a study as here.

One would think that war would develop ferocity in hard natures; perhaps it does; but it is not shown in the faces of the dead. They enter the silent land with eyes open; a stare of surprise is in them; the lines of care are softened upon the brow, and the cheek, when untorn, shows determination, as though they slept where doubt is unknown, where all mystery is revealed; where the reason of our creation, to bear the myrtle leaf of joy or the habiliments of mourning, to reap the golden sheaves of content or gather the mildew of misery, is known.

They have been sent, rather than gone, to the garner where all shall be gathered.

This it is to unroof

This is the work of treason! the temple of law and order, and let loose the demon of discord. A people more than prosperous have fallen upon evil times. Murder, arson, theft, all kinds of injustice, follow in the footsteps of war. the end yet. When shall spears and swords be beaten "How long, into ploughshares and pruning-hooks? O Lord?"-Cincinnati Gazette.

HURRAH!

BY ALFRED B. STREET.

Vicksburgh is ours,
Hurrah!

Treachery cowers,
Hurrah!

Down reels the rebel rag!
Up shoots the starry flag!
High, like a beaconed crag,
Let its light flash around

All through the Union's bound!
Flash, till the welkin gleams!
Flash, till the hills and streams,
Cities and hamlets, throw
Back a responsive glow!
Let the red rocket soar !
Let the deep cannon roar !
Bonfires their torrents pour !
Let the bells o'er and o'er
Clang the joy, peal the glee,
Waking one jubilee !

While the heart sends the shout,
Lengthening in thunder out,

Triumph is ours,

Hurrah!

Vicksburgh is ours,

Hurrah!

Rain the wreathed flowers,
Hurrah!

Where the great river-band
Links the bright States that stand
Filling the valley grand,
See now that mighty land,
Stretching out either hand,
From where his river flows,
Out of its urn of snows
To the perennial rose !
Never to know again
On its free wave a chain;
But, while the waters wind,
Know them a bond to bind

Nor is

Firm the great UNION: shout
All the broad Nation then!
Let the joy ring about,

So to be known of men
Wherever men shall see
Glory in Liberty.
Triumph is ours,
Hurrah!

Vicksburgh is ours,
Hurrah!

Arch the green bowers,
Hurrah!

Arch o'er the hero, who
Nearer and nearer drew,
Letting wise patience sway,
Till, from his brave delay,
Swift as the lightning's ray,
Bounded he to the fray
Full on his fated prey;
Thundering upon his path,
Swerving not, pausing not,
Darting steel, raining shot,
In his fierce onset, hot
With his red battle-wrath;
Flashing on, thundering on;
Pausing then once again,
Curbing with mighty rein,
All his great heart, as vain
Writhed the fierce foe, the chain
Tighter and tighter wound-
Till the reward was found,
Till the dread work was done,
Till the grand wreath was won.
Triumph is ours,

Hurrah!

Haughty Lee cowers,
Hurrah!

Doubt no more lowers,
Hurrah!

Swell the full pean shout
Over the rebel rout!
Over the traitor horde
In our free valleys poured!
Coming with sworded might
All the wide North to smite;
Coming with blazing torch
All her green fields to scorch;
Fleeing now, scathed and broke,
At the red lightning-stroke
Liberty wrathful woke;
Reeling in dazzled flight
At the grand sunburst light
Liberty woke to sight.
Bells ring out! banners fly!
Festal flames seek the sky!
Triumph is ours,
Hurrah!

Haughty Lee cowers, Hurrah!

Triumph is ours,

Hurrah!

Arch too his sweeping way,
He who in full array

Sprang from bright Fortune's head
Armed for the conflict dread,
Armed in proud freedom's right,
Hurling his martial might

On the foe's serried files;

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