Bill the cook is the presiding genius of a restaurant; his face, in the way of reminding one of hot stews and pepper-pot, his best sign. Charlie, his assistant, was last noticed in a photographic establishment in Philadelphia; inclosing a full length card portrait of himself in uniform, as a Corporal in a Black Regiment, for the benefit of his master's family in Dixie.
The little Irish Corporal was heard to tell a brawling peace man,—as he menaced with the stump of an arm,—lost at Chancellorsville—in a saloon a short time after his return, to "hould his tongue; that the boys who had lost limbs in defence of the country were the chappies to stump for freedom, and that they would keep down all fires in the rear, while our brave boys are fighting in front."
A late mail brings the news that our Western Virginia Captain is soon to take the field at the head of a Black Regiment, and that the happiest results are
anticipated from his enforcement of military law and tactics, as learned by him under "Old Rosy," in Western Virginia.
Thus we go on. Necessity hastens the progress of civilization and freedom. Desolating war—protracted by mistaken leniency—has educated the nation to a proper sense of the treason, and nerved it to the determination to crush it by all possible means and at every hazard. The man who has heretofore objected to Negro enlistments, acquiesces when his own name appears upon the list of the Enrolling Officer. The day that saw the change in the miserable, not to say treasonable, policy of alienating the only real friends we have had in the South, and their successful employment as soldiers, stands first in the decline of the Rebellion. Its suppression is fixed, and is to be measured by the vigor with which we press the war.
"Vengeance is secure to him
Who doth arm himself with right."