The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 3, March, 1862

by Various

Editor's Table.

Step by step the vast net is closing in on the enemy,—little by little the vice is tightening,—and if no incalculable calamity overtake the armies of the Union, it is but fair to assume that at no distant day the rebel South will find itself in the last extremity, overwhelmed by masses from without and demoralized by want of means within. Government at present holds the winning cards,—if they are only skillfully played the game is its own. It is impossible to study the map and the present position of our forces with our resources, and not realize this. 'Hemmed in!' is the despairing cry from Southern journals, which but the other day insolently threatened to transfer the war to Northern soil, and to sack New York and Philadelphia; and, with their proverbial fickleness and fire, we find many of them half rebelling against the management of Mr. JEFFERSON DAVIS and his coadjutors.

This is all encouraging. On the other hand, we are beginning to feel more acutely the miseries of war, and its enormous cost. The time is at hand when the whole country will be called on to show its heroism by patient endurance of many trials, and by living as well as dying for the great cause of liberty and Union. Let it all be done patiently and without a murmur. Every suffering will be repaid tenfold in the hour of triumph. Let it be remembered that as we suffer our chances of victory increase, and that every pain felt by us is a death-pang to the foe. Now, if ever, the Northern quality of stubborn endurance must show itself. We, too, can suffer as heroically as the South boasts of doing. It is this which in the course of events must inevitably give us the victory, for no spirit of chivalry, no enthusiasm, can ultimately resist sturdy Saxon pluck. The South, foolishly enough, has vaunted that it is inspired by the blood and temper of the Latin races of Southern Europe, and it can not be denied that their climate has given them the impulsiveness of their ideal heroes. In this fiery impatience lies the element which renders them incapable of sustaining defeat, and which, after any disaster, must stimulate dissension among them.

It should also be borne in mind that the most direct causes of our sufferings all involve very practical benefits. The Southern press taunts our soldiers with enlisting for pay. Let us admit that vast numbers have truly been partially induced by the want of employment at home to enter the army. It is a peculiar characteristic of all Northern blood that it can and does combine intelligence and interest with the strongest enthusiasm. No man was ever made a worse soldier by being prudent, any more than by being a religious Christian. Taunts and jeers can not affect the truth. The Protestant mechanic soldiery of Germany during the wars of the Reformation, the men of Holland, and the Puritans of England, were all reviled for the same cause—but they conquered. God never punishes men for common-sense, nor did it ever yet blind zeal, though it may prevent zeal from degenerating into sheer madness. The war, while it has crippled industry, has also kept it alive,—it has become a great industrial central force, giving work to millions. Again, in the creation of a debt we shall find such a stimulus to industry as we never before knew. Taxation, which kills a weak country crippled by feudal laws and nightmared by an extravagant court and nobility, simply induces fresh and vigorous effort to make additional profits in a land of endless resources and of vast territory, where every man is free to work at what he chooses. Taxation may come before us like a raging lion, but, in the words of BEECHER, we shall find honey in the carcass. Let us only cheerfully make the best of everything, and uphold the administration and the war with a right good will, and we shall learn as we never did before the extent of the incredible elasticity and recuperative power of the American.

It is evident that the present war will have a beneficial result in making us acquainted with the real nature of this arrogant and peculiar South-land. It was said that the Crimean struggle did much good by dispelling the cloudy hobgoblin mystery which hung over Russia, and, while it destroyed its prestige as a bugbear, more than compensated for this, by giving it a proper place abreast of civilized nations in the great march of industry and progress. Just so we are learning that the South is perfectly capable of receiving white labor, that it is not strangely and peculiarly different from the rest of the cis-tropical regions, that the negro is no more its necessity than he is to Spain or Italy, and that, in short, white labor may march in, undisturbed, so soon as industry ceases to be regarded as disgraceful in it. We have learned the vital necessity of union and identity of feeling between all the States, and found out the folly of suffering petty local state attachments to blind us to the glory of citizenship in a nation, which should cover a continent. We have learned what the boasted philanthropy of England is worth when put to the test of sacrifice, and also how the British lion can put forth the sharpest and most venomous of feline claws when an opportunity presents itself of ruining a possible rival. More than this, we have learned to be self-reliant, to take greater and more elevated views of political duty, and to be heroic without being extravagant. Since we were a republic no one year has witnessed such national and social progress among us as the past. We have had severe struggles, and we have surmounted them; we have had hard lessons, and we have learned them; we have had trials of pride, and we have profited by them. And as we contend for principles based in reason and humanity and confirmed by history, it follows that we must inevitably come forth gloriously triumphant, if we but bravely persevere in enforcing those principles.

The large amount of political information regarding the South and its resources which has been of late widely disseminated in the North, is a striking proof that, disguise the question as we will, the extension of free labor is, from a politico-economical point of view (which is, in fact, the only sound one), the real, or at least ultimate basis of this struggle. The matter in hand is the restitution of the Union, laying everything else aside; but the great fact, which will not step aside, is the consideration whether ten white men or one negro are to occupy a certain amount of soil. There is no evading this finality, there is no impropriety in its discussion, and it SHALL be discussed, so long as free speech or a free pen is left in the North. So far from interfering with the war, it is a stimulus to the thousands of soldiers who hope eventually to settle in the South in districts where their labor will not be compared with that of 'slaves,' and it is right and fit that they should anticipate the great and inevitable truth in all its relations to their own welfare and that of the country.

We cheerfully agree with those who try with so much energy that Emancipation is not the matter in hand, and quite as cheerfully assent when they insist that the enemy, and not the negro, demands all our present energy. But this has nothing to do with the great question, whether slavery is or is not to ultimately remain as a great barrier to free labor in regions where free labor is clamoring for admission. That is all we ask, nothing more. The instant the North and West are assured that at some time, though remote, and by any means or encouragements whatever, which expediency may dictate, the great cause of secession and sedition—will be removed from our land, then there will be witnessed an enthusiasm compared to which that of the South will be but lukewarm. That this will be done, no rational person now doubts, or that government will cheerfully act on it so soon as the fortunes of war or the united voice of the people strengthen it in the good work. And until it is done, let every intelligent freeman bear it in mind, thinking intelligently and acting earnestly, so that the great work may be advanced rapidly and carried out profitably and triumphantly.

The leading minds of the South, shrewder than our Northern anti-emancipation half traitors and whole dough-faces, foreseeing the inevitable success of ultimate emancipation, have given many signs of willingness to employ even it, if needs must be, as a means of effectually achieving their 'independence.' They have baited their hooks with it to fish for European aid—they have threatened it armed, as a last resort of desperation, if conquered by the North. Knowing as well as we that the days of slavery are numbered, they have used it as a pretense for separation, they would just as willingly destroy it to maintain that separation. Since the war began, projects of home manufactures, and other schemes involving the encouragement of free labor, have been largely discussed in the South,—and yet in spite of this, thousands among us violently oppose Emancipation. In plain, truthful words they uphold the ostensible platform of the enemy, and yet avow themselves friends of the Union.

We have said it before, we repeat it: we ask for no undue haste, no unwise measures, nothing calculated to irritate or disorganize or impede the measures which government may now have in hand. But we hold firmly that Emancipation be calmly regarded as a measure which must at some time be fully carried out. Be it limited for the time, or for years, to the Border States, be it assumed partially or entirely under the modified form of apprenticeship, be it proclaimed only in Texas or South Carolina, it has in some way a claim to recognition, and must be recognized. Its friends are too many to be ignored in the day of settlement.

It is proper that every detail of contract corruption should be brought fully to light, and the country owes a debt of gratitude to Mr. DAWES for his manly attack on the wretches who have crippled the war, robbed the soldier, swindled the tax-payers, and aided the enemy by their wicked rapacity. Let it be remembered that whatever his sentiments may have been, every man who has been instrumental, directly or indirectly, in cheating the treasury and the my during this period of distress, has been one of its enemies, and far more deadly than if he had been openly enlisted under the banners of JEFFERSON DAVIS. Were we anything but the best-natured and most enduring public in the world, such revelations as have by the been made would long since have driven these rapacious traitors beyond sea or into the congenial Dixie for which they have indirectly labored.

We have been accustomed to read much since infancy of the sufferings of our army during the Revolution,—how they were hatless, ragged, starved, and badly armed. We have shuddered at the pictures of the snow at Valley Forge, tracked by the blood from the feet of shoeless soldiers. Yet, in the year 1861, with abundant means and with all the sympathy and aid of a wealthy country, there has been more suffering in the army than the Revolution witnessed, and it was due in a great measure to men who hastened to the spoil like vultures to their prey. If the army has not in advanced, if proper weapons are not even yet ready, let the reader reflect how much the army is still crippled owing to imperfect supplies, and have patience.

It is not the soldier alone who has been robbed by the contractor. The manufacturer who sees only a government order between himself and failure, and who is willing to do anything to keep his operatives employed, is asked to supply inferior goods at a low price. He may take the order or leave it,—if he will not, another will,—and with it is expected to take the risk of a return. When a man sees ruin before him, he will often yield to such temptations. The contractor takes the goods, sells them if he can, and pockets the profits, sometimes ten times over what the manufacturer gains. He thereby robs outright, not only the soldier, but also the operatives who make the goods, since the manufacturer must reduce their wages to the lowest living point, in order to save himself.

It will all come to light. There is a discovery of all evil, and there is a grace which money cannot remove, neither from the thief nor from his children. And we rejoice to see that so much is being made known, and that in all probability the public will be fully informed as to who were principally guilty in these enormous and treasonable corruptions.

It is stated, on good authority, that the only objection urged by the President to adopting the policy of Emancipation, is the danger which would be thereby incurred of effectually losing the allegiance of the loyal slave-holders in Tennessee, Kentucky, and Missouri.

The obvious answer to this is, that by paying these loyal slave-holders for their chattels they could not fail to become firmer friends than ever. When we reflect on the extremely precarious tenure of all such property on the Border it becomes apparent that the man must be a lunatic indeed to hope for the permanency of the institution in the tobacco States. Since the war began nearly the two-thirds of the slaves in Missouri have changed their habitat,—about one-half of the number having been 'sold South,' while the other moiety have traveled North, without reference to ownership.

The administration need be under no apprehension as to the popularity of this measure. It would be hailed with joy by millions. The capitalists of our Northern cities, who now await with impatience some indications of A REGULAR POLICY, will welcome with enthusiasm a proposition which would at once render the debatable land no longer debatable, and which would effectually disorganize the entire South, by rendering numbers desirous of selling their slaves in order to secure what must sooner or later be irrecoverably lost. If government has a policy in this matter, it is time that the public were informed of it. The public is ready to be taxed to any extent, it is making tremendous sacrifices; all that it asks in return is some nucleus around which it may gather,—a settled principle by which its victories in war may be made to form the basis of a permanent peace.

The English press, statesmen and orators have been pleased to regard our democratic government as a failure.

But we have at least one advantage. When an enormous wrong is perpetrated on the people by a secretary, he can be hustled out of the way, and the accomplices be punished.

In England we have seen of late the most enormous political and social outrage of the century coolly committed, without the slightest regard to consequences, and without the slightest fear of any punishment whatever.

The truth has come to light, and every investigation, in the opinion of the ablest and most sagacious men, confirms the assertion that the late MASON and SLIDELL difficulty was simply an immense stock-jobbing swindle, played in the most heartless manner on this country and on England, without heed as to the terrible consequences.

The London Times, as is well known, is the organ of the ROTHSCHILDS. During the late iniquitous war-flurry it acted perfectly in concert with Lord PALMERSTON. While that gentleman kept back for three weeks dispatches, which, if published, would have had the immediate effect of establishing a peaceful feeling, his Hebrew accomplices bought literally right and left of securities of every kind. Grand pickings they had; everything had tumbled down. England was roused by the Times to a fury; a feeling of fierce injury was excited in this country, which an age will not now allay; and right in the midst of this, when one word might have changed the whole, the official ministerial organ explicitly denied the existence of those 'peace' dispatches which have since come to light!

Let us anticipate some of the results of this precious Palmerston-Hebrew-Times swindle.

It has cost England twenty millions of dollars.

It has aroused such a feeling in this country against England as no one can remember.

It has effectually killed the American market for English goods, and put the tariff up to prohibition en permanence.

It has, by doing this, struck the most deadly blow at English prosperity which history has ever witnessed; for all that was needed to stimulate American industry up to the pitch of competing with England in foreign markets was such a prohibitory tariff as would compel us to manufacture for ourselves what we formerly bought.

Who will say now that a republic does not work as well as a monarchy?

We have read with pleasure a recently written and extensively republished article by SINCLAIR TOUSEY, of New York, condemnatory of the proposed stamp tax, and in which we most cordially concur; not because it is a tax materially affecting the interests of publishers, but because, as Mr. TOUSEY asserts, the diffusion of knowledge among the people is a powerful element of strength in government itself. In these times, it is essential, far more than during peace, that the newspaper should circulate very freely, stimulating the public, aiding government and the war, and keeping the mind of the country in living union. Nothing would more rapidly produce a torpor—and there is too much torpor now—than a measure which would have the effect of killing off perhaps one half of the country press, the great mass of which is barely able to live as it is. 'Let the press be as free as possible. Let it be free from onerous taxation, and left unfettered by special duties to do its just work.' This is a war for freedom, and the test of freedom is a free press.

We are indebted to a valued correspondent in Illinois for the following communication, setting forth the state of affairs in Southern Missouri during the past summer. Few of our readers are ignorant that since that time the region in question has been 'harried and shorn' even to desolation by the brigands of Secessia.

In conversing lately with Dr. R., who fled for his life, last July, from Ripley County, Southern Missouri, I collected some information which may not be unacceptable to your readers.

Dr. R. states that early last summer the citizens of Southern Missouri began gathering into companies of armed men opposed to the general government, and that it was a fear that the general government would not protect their lives and property which induced great numbers of really Union men to take sides with the rebels. They saw their country thronging with secession soldiers; were told it was the will of the State government that they enlist for the protection of the State: if they did not do this voluntarily, they would be drafted; and all drafted ones would in camp take a subordinate position, have to perform the cooking and washing, in short, all the drudgery for those who volunteered. This falsehood drove hundreds of the ignorant Missourians into the rebel ranks. Captain LOWE, afterwards Col. LOWE, who was killed at the battle of Fredericktown, was the recruiting officer in Ripley and its adjoining counties. He arrested Dr. R. on the 4th of July, on a charge of expressing sentiments 'dangerous to the welfare of the community.' Dr. R. was tried by a court-martial, in presence of the three hundred soldiers then assembled. Witnesses against the Doctor were produced, but he was not allowed time to summon witnesses in his behalf, nor to procure counsel. One novel circumstance in the trial was occasioned by the absence of any justice of the peace to administer the usual oath to the witnesses. None were procurable, from the fact that all had resigned, refusing to act officially under a government they had repudiated. In this dilemma the prisoner came to their relief. 'Gentlemen, I am a justice of the peace, as most of you already know, and, as I have not yet resigned, I will swear in the witnesses for you.' 'Wall, I reckon he kin act as justice afore he's convicted,' suggested one of the crowd. So the Doctor administered the oath in the usual solemn manner. This self-possession and fearlessness seemed to have an effect on his judges, for, after the testimony, he was permitted to cross-question the witnesses and plead his own cause. He was able to neutralize some of the charges against him. The jury, after an absence of fifteen minutes, returned verdict that 'as there was nothing proved against the prisoner which would make him dangerous to the community, he was permitted to be discharged. But,' added the foreman, 'I am instructed by the committee to say they believe Dr. R. to be a Black Republican, and to tell him that if he wants to utter Black Republican sentiments, he has got to go somewhere else to do it.' It was well known the Doctor had voted for DOUGLAS. But here followed an animated conversation between the prisoner and LOWE'S men as to what constituted Black Republicanism; the result of which was, as the Doctor turned to depart, Captain LOWE informed him he was re-arrested!

By the influence of some of the soldiers, the prisoner succeeded next day in effecting his escape. Traveling by night and concealing himself by day, he finally reached the federal lines in safety. His family were not permitted to follow him, and did not succeed in eluding the vigilance of their enemies and joining him until the middle of January. When a Union man escapes them, the rebels are always opposed to the removal of his wife and children, as, by retaining them, they hope to get the husband and father again into their hands. And, as all communication by letter is cut off, many a man, during the last six months, has stolen back to see his family at the risk of his life, and lost it.

Dr. R. was the first man arrested in Ripley County; but LOWE immediately began a lively persecution of suspected Unionists. Some escaped with life, their enemies being satisfied with scourging and plundering them, but scores were hung. LOWE'S soldiers furnished and equipped themselves by robbing Union houses and the country stores.

Many suspected Union men shielded themselves by denouncing others, giving information of the property of others, and being forward in insulting and quartering lawless soldiers upon defenceless families. So that, Dr. R. states, there are created between neighbors, all through that section, feuds which will never cease to exist. Many a man has suffered family wrongs from his neighbor which he thirsts to go back to revenge, which he swears yet to revenge, and which he feels nothing but the blood of the offender can revenge! And should peace be declared to-morrow, a social war would still exist in Missouri!

People dwelling in the free States, where the schoolhouse is not abolished, where the laws still live and restrain, can have no conception of the state of society where the whole community has returned suddenly to savage life; a life wherein the reaction from a former restraint renders the viciously disposed far more intensely barbarous than his red brother of the plain.

LOWE'S men, and all similarly recruited by order of ex-Governor JACKSON, remained in service six months, and were to be paid in State scrip. But as that was worthless, they never received anything in rations, clothing, or money, but what they plundered from their fellow-citizens. Many of these state rights soldiers have since enlisted in the Confederate army; but Confederate paper being fifty per cent. below par, and not rising, the legitimate pay of the Southern soldier is likely to be small.

In Northern Arkansas, all males between fifteen and forty-five years of age have been ordered to be ready for the Confederate service when called upon. This has caused a fear of failure in next year's crops from scarcity of men in that section. There is great suffering among them now. Salt rose to $25 a sack. The authorities prohibited the holders from charging more than $12, the present price. Pins are $1.50 per paper; jeans $5 per yard; and everything else in proportion.

One word in comment. Every additional fact of the deplorable condition of things in the slave States is an additional reason why the North should firmly meet the cause of this misery. If the North should have the manhood to strike a blow at slavery now, still a generation must pass before harmony would ensue; but if the North evades and dallies, scores of generations must live and die before America sees unbroken peace again.

While the war goes on, the contrabands go off. A writer in the Norfolk Day Book complains that slaves are escaping from that city in great numbers, asserting that they get away through the instrumentality of secret societies in Norfolk, which hold their meetings weekly, and in open day. No one can doubt that this war is clearing the Border of its black chattels in double-quick time. Why not strike boldly, and secure it by offering to pay all its loyal slave-holders for their property? Of one thing, let the country rest assured—the friends of Emancipation will not brook much longer delay. It MUST and SHALL be carried through,—and we are strong enough to do it.

Thurlow Weed grows apace, and occasionally writes a good thing from London—as, for instance, in the following:—

At breakfast, a few days since, a distinguished member of Parliament, who has been much in America, remarked, with emphasis, that he had formerly entertained a high opinion of 'JUDGE LYNCH,' looking with much favor upon that species of impromptu jurisprudence known as 'Lynch law,' but since it failed to hang FLOYD, COBB and THOMPSON, of BUCHANAN'S cabinet, he had ignored and was disgusted with the system.

What would the distinguished member have said had he been familiar with the Catiline steamer case, the mysteries of shoddy contracts, the outfitting of the Burnside expedition, and innumerable other rascalities? The gentleman was right,—Lynch law has proved a failure; and, if we err not, another kind of law has of late months been not very far behind it in inefficiency. Our Southern foes have at least one noble trait—they hang their rascals.

'Non dum,' 'not yet,' was the motto of a great king, who, when the time came, shook Europe with his victories. 'Not yet,' says the Christian, struggling through trial and temptation towards the peace which passeth understanding and a heavenly crown. 'Not yet,' says the brave reformer, fighting through lies and petty malice, and all the meanness of foes lying in wait, ere he can convince the world that he is in the right. 'Not yet,' says the soldier, as he marches his weary round, waiting to be relieved, and musing on the battle and the war for which he has pledged his life and his honor—and they are a world to him. 'Not yet,' says every great man and woman, laying hands to every noble task in time, which is to roll onward in result into eternity. Wait, wait, thou active soul,—even in thy most vigorous activity let thy work be one of waiting, and of great patience in thy fiercest toil. There will come a day of triumph, when the fresh wind will banish the heat, and fan the laurel on thy brow. Such is the true moral of the following lyric:—

FALLEN.

BY EDWARD S. RAND.

Blow gently, Oh ye winter winds,

Along the ferny reaches,

Nor whirl the yellow leaves which cling

Upon the saddened beeches;

And gently breathe upon the hills

Where spring's first violets perished,—

Died like the budding summer hopes

Our hearts too fondly cherished.

Oh memory, bring not back the past,

To brim our cup of sorrow;

The drear to-day creeps on to bring

A drearier to-morrow.

Can streaming eyes and aching hearts

Glow at the battle's story,

Or they who stake their all and lose

Exult in fame and glory?

Oh, lay them tenderly to rest,

Those for their country dying,—

Let breaking hearts and trembling lips

Pour the sad dirge of sighing.

Yet louder than the requiem raise

The song of exultation,

That the great heritage is ours

To die to save the nation.

In patience wait, nor think that yet

Shall Right and Freedom perish,

Nor yet Oppression trample down

The heritage we cherish!

For still remember, precious things

Are won by stern endeavor,—

Though in the strife our heart-strings break,

The Right lives on forever.

When you write let your chirography be legible. Strive not overmuch after beauty of finish, make not your a's like unto u's or your o's like v's; let not your heart be seduced by the loveliness of flourishes, and be not tempted of long-tailed letters. Above all, write your own name distinctly,—which is more than many do, and much more than was done by the gentleman described in the following letter from a kindly correspondent:—

MADISON, WIS.

DEAR CONTINENTAL:

The holder of any considerable quantity of Wisconsin currency is liable not only to the occasional loss consequent upon the absquatulation of a tricksy wild-cat, but also to great perplexity as to the name of the gentleman who countersigns the bills. These inscrutable counter-signatures are accomplished by ROBERT MENZIES, our excellent Deputy Bank Comptroller. His cabalistic 'R. Menzies' does not greatly resemble a well-executed specimen of copperplate engraving. The initial 'R' is always plain enough, but the 'Menzies' is sometimes read Moses, and sometimes Muggins, and is always liable to be translated Meazles.

Mr. MENZIES is a Scotchman, brimful of Caledonian lore and enthusiasm. His penmanship is not always so sublimely obscure as his performances on bank-paper would indicate; but in its best estate it is capable of sometimes more than one reading. Witness the following instance: In the winter of 1858 and '9, Mr. MENZIES delivered a very interesting lecture, before a literary society, in Prairie du Chien; subject, THE SONG-WRITERS OF SCOTLAND. Mr. M. not residing at Prairie du Chien, the lecture was, of course, the subject of a preliminary correspondence. At the meeting of the society next previous to the one when the lecture was delivered, Elder BRUNSON, the president, announced that he had received a letter from Mr. MENZIES, accepting the invitation to lecture before the society, and naming as the subject of his lecture 'THE LONG WINTERS or SCOTLAND.'

Readers who are afflicted with the isothermal doctrine may experience some benefit from the perusal of a letter for which we are indebted to a friend not very far 'out West:'—

SPRINGFIELD, MASS.

DEAR CONTINENTAL:

I have a friend who would be sound on the goose, as I verily believe, and a patriotic anti-Jeff Davis platform Emancipator, if he hadn't unfortunately picked up a fine learned word. That word is

ISOTHERMAL.

And that word he carries about as a hen carries a boiled potato—something too big to swallow but nice to peck at. And he pecks at it continually.

'I could admit that the slaves should be free,' he says, 'but then nature, you know, has fixed an isothermal line. She has isothermally deemed that south of that line the black is isothermally fitted to isothermalize or labor according to the climate as a slave.'

'Good,' I replied. 'So you admit that all anthropological characteristics as developed by climate are quite right?'

[He liked that word 'anthropological,' and assented.]

'Good again. Well, then, you must admit that to judge by statistics there is an isothermal line of unchastity, or "what gods call gallantry," and further north, one of drunkenness? How much morality is there in a tropical climate? How many temperate men to the dozen in Scandinavia or Russia?'

My isothermalist attempted a weak parry, but failed. When he recovers I will inform you.

YOURS TRULY.

P.S. I am preparing a series of tables by which I hope to prove the existence of the following isothermalities:

A Lager-beer line.

A Tobacco-chewing line.

A reading of TUPPER and COVENTRY PATMORE line.

A CREAM CHEESE line.

A Doughface line.

And a Clothes line.

We are indebted to R. WOLCOTT for the following sketch of War Life:—

'TAKEN PRISONER.'

It was a terrible battle. Amid the rattle of musketry and whistling of bullets, the clashing of sabres, the unearthly cries of wounded horses and the wild shouting of men, the clear voice of Lieutenant Hugh Gregory rang out: 'Rally! my brave boys, rally, and avenge the Captain's death!'

'Not quite so fast, sir,' quietly remarked a rebel officer, bringing his sword to a salute; 'you observe that your men are retreating and you are my prisoner.'

Hugh saw that it was so, and with a heavy heart gave himself up.

'Hurrah for the stars and stripes!' shouted a brave young soldier, attempting to raise himself upon his elbow, but falling back, exhausted from the loss of blood.

'Damn you, I'll stripe you!' exclaimed a brutal fellow, rising in his stirrups and aiming a blow at the wounded man.

'Dare to strike a helpless man!' shouted his commander; and he warded off the blow with a stroke that sent the fellow's sabre spinning into the air. 'Now dismount, and help him if you can.' But it was too late; the brave soul had gone out with those last words.

'Lieutenant,' said the rebel officer, whom we will know as Captain Dumars, 'I see that you are wounded. Let me assist you upon this horse, and one of my sergeants will show you the surgeon's quarters.' And he bound up the wounded arm as well as he could, helped him upon the horse, and, with a playful Au revoir, rode on.

Hugh's wound was too painful, and he was too weak and tired, to wonder or to think clearly of anything; he only felt grateful that his captor was a gentleman, and quietly submitted himself to the sergeant's guidance.

The battle was ended,—in whose favor it does not matter, so far as this story is concerned,—and Captain Dumars obtained permission to take Lieutenant Gregory to his mother's house until he should recover from his wound or be exchanged.

When Hugh found himself established in a pleasant little chamber with windows looking out upon the flower-garden and the woods beyond, fading away into his own loved North land, he thought that, after all, it was not so terrible to be a prisoner of war. He was decidedly confirmed in this opinion when he occasionally caught a glimpse of the lithe form of Annie Dumars flitting about among the flowers; and being somewhat of a philosopher, in his way, he determined to take it easy.

The presence of one of the 'Hessians' at Mrs. Dumars' house gave it much the same attraction that is attached to a menagerie. Feminine curiosity is an article that the blockade can not keep out of Dixie, and many were the morning calls that Annie received, and many and various were the methods of pumping adopted to learn something of the prisoner,—how he looked, how he acted, how he was dressed, and so forth.

'Impertinence!' he heard Annie exclaim, as one of these gossips passed through the gate, after putting her through a more minute inquisition than usual. And he heard dainty shoe-heels impatiently tapping along the hall, and when she brought in a bouquet of fresh flowers he saw in her face traces of vexation.

'I seem to be quite a "What-is-it?"'

'Shame!'—and she broke off a stem and threw it out of the window with altogether unnecessary vehemence.

'Splendid girl!' thought Hugh; 'where have I seen her?'

And he turned his thoughts back through the years that were past, calling up the old scenes; the balls, with their mazy, passionate waltzes, and their promenades on the balcony in the moonlight's mild glow, when sweet lips recited choice selections from Moore, and white hands swayed dainty sandal-wood fans with the potency of the most despotic sceptres; the sleigh-rides, with their wild rollicking fun, keeping time to the merry music of the bells and culminating in the inevitable upset; the closing exercises of the seminary, when blooming girls, in the full efflorescence of hot-house culture, make a brief but brilliant display before retiring to the domestic sphere—Oh, yes—

'Miss Dumars, were you not at the —— Institute last year?'

'Yes.'

'Then you know my cousin,—Jennie Gregory?'

'Yes, indeed:—and you are her cousin. How stupid in me not to recollect it.'

And she told him how that 'Jennie' was her dearest friend, and how in their intimacy of confidence she had told her all about him, and shown her his picture, and—in short, Hugh and Annie began to feel much better acquainted.

It was a few days after this that Hugh sat by the open window, listening to Annie reading from the virtuous and veracious Richmond Enquirer. Distressed by what he heard, not knowing whether it was true or not, he begged her to cease torturing him. She laid aside the paper with an emphatic 'I don't believe it!' that could not but attract his attention, and he looked up in surprise.

'I must tell you, Mr. Gregory—I have been tortured long enough by this forced secrecy—I am a rebel!'

'That is the name we know you by,' he replied, smiling.

'But I am a rebellious rebel. Yes,' she added, rising, 'I detest with all my heart this wicked, causeless rebellion. I detest the very names of the leaders of it. And yet I am compelled to go about with lies upon my lips, and to act lies, till I detest myself more than all else! I have consoled myself somewhat by making a flag and worshiping it in secret. I will get it and show it to you.'

'This,' she continued, returning with a miniature specimen of the dear old flag, 'a real flag, the emblem of a real living nation, must be kept hidden, its glorious lustre fading away in the dark, while that,' pointing to where the 'stars and bars' were fluttering in the breeze, 'that miserable abortion is insolently flaunted before our eyes, nothing about it original or suggestive—except its stolen colors, reminding us of the financial operations of Floyd! Oh, if hope could be prophecy—if a life that is an unceasing prayer for the success of the federal arms could avail, it would not be long before this bright banner would wave in triumph over all the land, its starry folds gleaming with a purer, more glorious light than ever!'

And as she stood there, with eyes uplifted as in mute prayer, and fervently kissed the silken folds of the flag, Hugh wished that his station in life had been that of an American flag.

Time passed on, and the prisoner was to be exchanged for a rebel officer of equal rank. Captain Dumars brought him the intelligence, and was surprised at the seeming indifference with which he received it.

'You don't seern particularly elated by the prospect of getting among the Yankees again.'

'I am eager to take my sword again; but my stay here has been far from unpleasant. You, Captain, have been away so much that I have not been able to thank you for making my imprisonment so pleasant. I am at a loss to know why you have shown such favor to me especially.'

'This is the cause,' replied the Captain, laying his finger upon a breast-pin that Hugh always wore upon his coat, at the same time unbuttoning his own; 'you see that I wear the same.'

It was a simple jewel, embellished only by a few Greek characters, but it was the emblem of one of those college societies, in which secrecy and mystery add a charm to the ties of brotherhood. And it was this fraternal tie, stronger than that of Free-Masonry, because more exclusive, that made Hugh's a pleasant imprisonment, and made him happy in the love of one faithful among the faithless, loyal among many traitors. For of course the reader has surmised—for poetic justice demands it—that Hugh fell desperately in love with Annie, and Annie ditto Hugh. How he told the tender tale, and how she answered him,—whether with the conventional quantity of blushes and sighs, or not,—is none of your business, reader, or mine; so don't ask me any questions.

It was the evening of the day before Hugh's departure. They, Annie and Hugh, sat in the little porch, silent and sad, watching the shadows slowly creeping up the mountain side towards its sun-kissed summit, like a sombre pall of sorrow shrouding a bright hope.

'And to-morrow you are free.'

'No, Annie, not free. My sword will be free, but my heart will still linger here, a prisoner. But when the war is over, and the old flag restored—'

'Then,' and here her eyes were filled with the glorious light of prophetic hope, 'I will be your prisoner.'

And still Hugh is fighting for the dear old flag; and still Annie is praying for it, and waiting for the sweet imprisonment.

There has been many as sweet a romance as this, reader, acted ere this, during the war. Would that all captivity were as pleasant!

'I would not live alway,' says the hymn, and the sentiment has, like every great truth, been set forth in a thousand forms. One of the most truly beautiful which we have ever met is that of