Down, down, as headlong through the waves, A thousand gurgling watery sounds Then I remember little more; I tried to cheer. I cannot say A blue mist closed around my eyes, When I awoke, a soldier lad, With two great tears upon his cheeks, I tried to speak. He understood He turned me. There, thank God! the flag And there, while thread shall hang to thread, The noblest constellation set Against the northern sky, A sign that we who live may claim A monument that needs no scroll, SHERIDAN'S RIDE.-THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. Up from the South at break of day, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, And wider still those billows of war But there is a road from Winchester town, A good, broad highway leading down; And there through the flush of the morning light, He stretched away with his utmost speed; Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South, The heart of the steed, and the heart of the master Under his spurning feet, the road And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, With Sheridan only five miles away. The first that the General saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops; What was done,-what to do,-a glance told him both, And striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because The sight of the master compelled it to pause, With foam and with dust the black charger was gray; By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril's play, He seemed to the whole great army to say, "I have brought you Sheridan all the way, From Winchester down, to save the day."" Hurrah, hurrah for Sheridan! Hurrah, hurrah for horse and man! NUMBER ONE. COURTIN' IN THE COUNTRY.-H. ELLIOTT MCBRIDE. Zekiel gets the "chores" done, That Zeke's gettin' on his Sunday Zeke marches to the place; He knocks and hears "Come in!" They take his shawl and pin. Zeke, after looking round, Squats on the proffered seat; Consequently he doesn't say much: but all the time he keeps a lookin' at his feet. The old gentleman talks Of horses and the crops; And the old lady asks About his mother's hops. She also friendly asks What butter they have churned? Zekiel gets uneasy, And he mentally ejaculates; Hops, butter and things be derned!" Old folks keep a talkin' Sally looks at Zekiel, Zekiel keeps a fussin'; Sally thinks it's bedtime, And Zekiel thinks so too; Old folks seem tickled And keep a looking at each other, and then at Zekie and Sally, as if they knew a thing or two. The old man pulls his boots And travels off to bed, The old lady's yawning For him to pop the question, get a wife, and commence a layin' up the money. 2 Now the old folks are gone, But Sal is still a knittin'; And steps on a kitten. She asks him why so mum? And Zekiel hems and haws: He gives an awful cough, Then he crosses his legs, than he uncrosses them, and then he says, "Because!" Zekiel clears his throat, Then hitches up his chair; Sally looks slantin' like As if she didn't care. Zeke clears his throat again, Again he hitches near; And Sal, the little pet, After knitting to the "middle of the needle," lays away her stocking and looks as if she wouldn't "skeer." Zeke at once "pitched right in," Flung his arms around her: Said that she must be his, She'd not get a sounder. Zeke kept a holdin' on And swore his fate he'd know; While Sal could but utter, "Zeke Jones, I'll tell you what it is, I can't stand it, and I won't let you hug me so!" But Zeke vowed and declared, He never would "leave go," He declared he loved her, And his love was growin'; She modestly replied: "Zeke Jones, I would like mighty well to be lieve you; but I'm most awfully afraid you're blowin'!" "I'll be dogged if I am!" "Do you think I would lie- If you won't have me, Sal, I'll go right off to the wars, and some day there will a big cannon ball come along and take off my head, cher biz!" "Oh, yes, I'll have you Zeke, Can't let you go away; But, Zeke, you'll have to see He couldn't sleep a wink that night, without dreaming of the good time to come. EXTRACT FROM SENATOR BAKER'S SPEECH AT UNION SQUARE, N. Y., April 20, 1861. FELLOW-CITIZENS, what is this country? Is it the soil on which we tread? Is it the gathering of familiar faces? Is it our luxury, and pomp, and pride? Nay, more than these, is it power, and might, and majesty alone? No, our country is more, far more than all these. The country which demands our love, our courage, our devotion, our heart's blood, is more than all these. Our country is the history of our fathers—our country is the tradition of our mothers-our country is past renown-our country is present pride and power-our country is future hope and destiny-our country is greatness, glory, truth, constitutional liberty-above all, freedom forever! These are the watchwords under which we fight; and we will shout them out till the stars appear in the sky, in the stormiest hour of battle. Young men of New York! Young men of the United States! you are told this is not to be a war of aggression. In one sense that is true; in another, not. We have committed aggression upon no man. In all the broad land, in their rebel nest, in their traitor's camp, no truthful man can rise and say that he has ever been disturbed, though it be but for a single moment, in life, liberty, estate, character, or honor. The day they began this unnatural, false, wicked, rebellious warfare, their lives were more secure, their property more secure, by us- not by themselves, but by us-guarded far more securely than any people ever have had their lives and property secured from the beginning of the world. We have committed no oppression, have broken no compact, have exercised no unholy power; have been loyal, moderate, constitutional, and just. We are a majority of the Union, and we will govern our own Union, within our own Constitution, in our own way. We are all democrats. We are all republicans. We acknowledge the sovereignty of the people within the rule of the Constitution; and under that Constitution and beneath that flag, let traitors beware. I would meet them |