By A. F. Leonard.

Air—“Friend of My Soul.”

Land of the South! the fairest land
Beneath Columbia’s sky!
Proudly her hills of freedom stand,
Her plains in beauty lie.
Her dotted fields, her traversed streams
Their annual wealth renew;
Land of the South! in brightest dreams
No dearer spot we view.
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Flag of the South! aye, fling its folds
Upon the kindred breeze;
Emblem of dread to tyrant holds—
Of freedom on the seas,
Forever may its stars and stripes
In cloudless glory wave;
Red, white, and blue—eternal types
Of nations free and brave!

States of the South! the patriot’s boast!
Here equal laws have sway;
Nor tyrant lord, nor despot host,
Upon the weak may prey.
Then let them rule from sea to sea,
And crown the queenly isle—
Union of love and liberty,
’Neath heaven’s approving smile.

LADIES, TO THE HOSPITAL!

By “Personne,” Correspondent of the Charleston Courier.

Fold away all your bright-tinted dresses,
Turn the key on your jewels to-day,
And the wreath of your tendril-like tresses,
Braid back in a serious way:
No more delicate gloves, no more laces;
No more trifling in boudoir or bower;
But come with your souls in your faces,
To meet the stern wants of the hour.
Look around! By the torch-light unsteady,
The dead and the dying seem one;
What? trembling and paling already,
Before your mission’s begun?
These wounds are more precious than ghastly;
Time presses her lips to each scar,
While she chants of that glory which vastly
Transcends all the horrors of war.

“... How mellow
The light showers down on that brow.”