“Why can we not be brothers? the battle now is o’er,
We’ve laid our bruised arms on the field, to take them up no more;”—
Welcome “Jeff” to Baltimore: Air, “Annie of the Vale.” (R. B. B., 71.)
“In charms now we slumber, and insults in number
We hear from our insolent foes;”—
A Welcome to the Invader: “An Ode,” addressed to the picked men of Col. Wilson’s New York command. (R. R. from the Charleston Courier.)
“What! have ye come to spoil our fields,
Black hearts and bloody hands!”—
We Left Him on the Field: By Miss Marie E. Jones, of Galveston. (Alsb.)
“We left him on the crimson’d field,