American steamer. Pray take my advice for once; and do another thing; write me when you get this, and as often as you may find time, and enclose your letter for me to Mrs. Nassau, New Providence. She, Mrs. with all her family, removed there last winter; and she will always know when any vessel is leaving there for any part of the Southern coast, especially Florida, and will forward any letters to me.

THE CHRISTIAN SOLDIER. After the battle of Gettysburg, a soldier lay in a house by the roadside, dying. A Major-General drove up to the door. His orderly took his horse. He got "The last I heard from you was yours of the off, went in, and sat down by the dying man's 16th July, enclosed to Mr. Reed. How many side. Taking out a little book, he read from it, times, and when, I wrote you I have no recollec"Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in tion, and whether any of them got through noGod, believe also in me: in my Father's house are many mansions.” He then knelt down and body knows. Your kind solicitude for me moved offered up a prayer to God for that dying soldier. me greatly; but it should not, for it was only the Arising from his knees, he bent over and kissed which I knew you entertained for me as well beexpression of a warm and generous friendship him, and said, with loving accents, "Captain G-fore as then. Alas! I have nothing to offer you. we shall meet in heaven." He then rode off. All that I could, at any time, was, indifferent acThat General was Major-General Howard, of commodations, with a better climate than you

Maine!

A LETTER FROM FLORIDA. The following letter from a gentleman of high standing, and decidedly the most able lawyer in Florida, humorous and unguarded as it is, casts much light on the state of feeling and condition of things in the South in the latter part of the year 1861 :

"JACKSONVILLE, FLA., Oct. 16, 1861.

the earth. And, although that is a matter of little consequence, I presume living in Nassau is cheap. I should like to live there a while, however, just for economy's sake. Pray, have you any idea of our prices here? Pork fifty dollars per barrel; butter fifty cents per pound; lard forty cents. I have paid these prices this day. Soap also thirty-five cents per pound; and, in short, pretty much everything else in the same ratio, except, perhaps, flour. But we don't seem to mind it except that it seems to me it makes us hungry, for I can swear we eat more than we ever did in peaceable times. We have raised this season abundant crops of all kinds of provisions in the South. This is attributed to Providence; but I understand He has done the same thing for our enemies. His position, therefore, is not very well defined. Although I am well satisfied, if the real truth could be got at, He is on our side, still I am inclined to think that the making of our crop for this year He left pretty much to our niggers. I mean to say, that if it hadn't been for the niggers, I don't think much of a crop would have been made.

had at home. Fate, Providence, or the devil, interfered last year, and retained you in arctic quarters. Now take my advice: take the reins into your own hands, or let Mrs. have them, which is, perhaps, still better, and pack up early, and go out to Nassau. I don't know much about the place; but I do know the climate is warm there; and, moreover, it is English, and according to my experience it is more safe, comfortable, respectable, and quiet among the English, wher"MOST HIGH, MOST MIGHTY, AND MOST PUIS-ever they govern, than with any other people on SANT ANTIPODE: Sometimes a vessel manages to run over from Savannah or elsewhere to Nassau, New Providence, and with the expectation that one will be going from thence in a few days, I think proper to try and report myself. If therefore this should ever reach you, be pleased to understand that I and all my household are well. Notwithstanding the whole South seems to be turned into a military camp, I have been of late, and still am, much occupied in professional matters, and I write this under the influence of whip and spur, for I am to be off to-morrow morning to St. Augustine to attend the Confederate court, where divers cases and questions of prize, sequestration, &c., must be discussed and disposed of; and as there is now not a solitary lawyer remaining there, no, not even there is no library, and I must select my books and authorities, and lug them along, for in these days of distrust and conceit, no court is going to believe the law is so and so, merely because I say so. It must be read from a book, printed paper, bound in sheep or calf, manufactured by asses; becomes an oracle, and reason, principle, and common sense are silenced and laughed out of countenance. Well, I am in a hurry, but I write you a line to say God bless you. I hope you and Mrs. are well, and I want to propose to you, if this d-d war continues, to go out to Nassau this winter to avoid the cold; and if you will, I will promise positively to go over from here and visit you. Now do it. The British steamers, you know, between Havana and New York, stop at Nassau twice a month; and I need not tell you how much more comfortable they are in every way than an

"Well, I cannot tell you how much I wish that you and Mrs. could come and pass the winter with us. We could go boating (when there was no wind). We could go down to the bar, or to Indian River, or to Cedar Keys, and eat oysters, and do, in fact, whatever we pleased. As it is, I don't believe this war can last till spring; now mark my word. It can't last, and there is no reason on earth why it should. No matter you and I cannot now discuss it; but the fact is, it cannot in my judgment last."

BARBARA FRITCHIE.*

BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,

The clustered spires of Frederick stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach tree fruited deep,

Fair as the garden of the Lord,

To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,

On that pleasant morn of the early fall
When Lee marched over the mountain wall,

Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.

Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,

Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down and saw not one.

Up rose Barbara Fritchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men hauled down;

Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well;

And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good night.

Barbara Fritchie's work is o'er,
And the rebel rides on his raids no more.
Honor to her! and let a tear
Fall for her sake on Stonewall's bier.
Over Barbara Fritchie's grave,
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!
Peace and order and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;
And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!

General

INCIDENT OF SHERMAN'S MARCH. Howard, in a speech at the celebration of the Christian Commission, related the following little occurrence after the battle of Chattanooga. "My corps, with Sherman's," said he, "had been in pursuit of the enemy three days. We had marched nearly one hundred and twenty miles, and then marched back again. The result of it was, that our clothes and our shoes were worn out; the men had scarcely any blankets to cover them, or pants to wear. They were toiling along on their journey home. Just as we had passed through the mountain ridge, the division commander, thinking that the men had marched far enough for one day, put them comfortably into camp, told them to make their coffee, and then sent word to me to know if they had permission to remain there during the night. It was raining hard, very hard. It was a severe storm. But Ï the dust-brown ranks stood fast. knew the position was an improper one. It was

In her attic-window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.

Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.

Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced: the old flag met his sight.

"Halt!" "Fire!

out blazed the rifle-blast.

It shivered the window, pane, and sash
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;
She leaned far out on the window sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.
"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country's flag," she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word:
"Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on! he said.
All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet.
All day long that free flag tost
Over the heads of the rebel host.

* The incident upon which this ballad is founded took place literally as it is told by the poet upon the occupation of Frederick, in Maryland, on the second march northward of the insurgent forces.

not the fulfilment of my orders. I sent back word, No; march forward to Tungston's Station. March!' It was dark-it was cold—it was stormy. The poor men had to be turned out once more, to march. Notwithstanding their labor, notwithstanding their toil and fatigue, they marched. 'What did they do? how did they take it?' do you ask? They took it as I hope you will take my speech. They went singing, singing, singing along the route noble, patient fellows! — without a complaining word.”

PUT IT IN GOLD LETTERS. A few days after the fight at Skerry, near Charleston, Kanawha, Virginia, two or three Yankee officers visited the house of a Mr. Fry, who had been driven from his home by the enemy. A daughter of Mr. Fry saw them approaching through the gate, and confronted them in the porch, with a demand to know their business. They stated they were looking for secession flags, and heard there were some there.

"Brave men," said she in scorn, "take flags on the field of battle-cowards only hunt them at the houses of defenceless women. Mine is in at the houses of defenceless women. the hands of our brave volunteers; go and take it from them." Southern paper.

A TRUE EXPERIENCE.

BY FRANK CAHILL.

I HAD thoroughly made up my mind to enlist. The bounty may have tempted me; my young affections may have been blighted; or, which is the most likely case, a friend of mine, then a Lieutenant-Colonel, commanding a regiment, may have written me to come out, as promotion was speedy and sure.

I knew if I told any of my friends of my determination to enlist, they would endeavor to persuade me from it; so I kept it a profound secret from all at least all save two; and how I came to tell them will be explained in due time.

I had a just appreciation of glory, and knew exactly what it meant, viz., hard fare, much discomfort, and the chances of being shot. So I shivered on the brink of Uncle Sam's servitude, hesitating to take the final plunge.

Visiting one of my friends at his place of business, I told him in the most mysterious manner that I wanted to talk to him on a most important

matter.

"Hold on a few minutes," said he. "I shall be through directly."

your little girl, and tell her to sometimes think of me."

"There'll be no occasion to tell her that. You'll come back safe enough. Write often, and let me know how you are getting along."

"I will do so. Good by;" and I held out my hand.

"Good by," he responded, shaking it. "I wish I was single, so I could accompany you." "Don't tell anybody where I have gone."

"Of course not, if you wish me not to;" and he was away.

The next morning I proceeded to the recruiting office in the City Hall Park, New York, for the express purpose of enlisting. But somehow or other the bustle and confusion in Mr. Orison Blunt's recruiting office unnerved me, and I thought a little walk would do me good.

My little walk meant a tramp to Central Park and back, and occupied some three or four hours. When I returned it was past three: much to my regret, the office was closed, and I had to wait till the following morning.

This annoyed me exceedingly; when I found it was impossible to be enlisted that day, I was the more anxious to become a wearer of the army blue, and left highly irate at the policy that closed a recruiting station at such an early hour in the I thought those few minutes were the longest day, thus preventing any number of brave deI had ever experienced, so anxious was I to make | fenders rushing to the protection of their country. known my intention of enlisting. At last I heard "It is an outrage upon the nation," I said, the sharp click of the clasps of his ledger, which" and I will write to the papers about the mathe placed in the safe, turned the key, put that inter." his pocket, changed his coat, his hat was al- But I didn't. ready on, — and said he was ready.

I mentally determined to defer telling him till later in the evening.

Talking of almost everything but soldiering, we walked about the streets for hours, occasionally stopping at a wayside inn to refresh.

At last Smith-for that was my friend's name said: "What do you want to see me about? I must be going; my wife is expecting me."

"O, nothing," I replied; "I just wanted to see you, and have a little talk; that was all."

Having left my boarding-house a day or two before, that night I slept at Tammany Hall, and had serious thoughts of lying on the floor, instead of on the bed, so as to accustom myself to the hardships of the tented field. After trying the floor for a few minutes I concluded that the bed was the more comfortable; so into it I turned.

At the time I enlisted, fifteen dollars hand money was given to all who brought a recruit. Laboring under the impression I should prefer But Smith knew better. He could tell by my a friend receiving the money, rather than a face that this was not all; so we continued our stranger, I hunted one up, and told him I wished perambulations, and occasional halts for refresh-to put fifteen dollars in his pocket.

ments.

Ten o'clock came, and I was no nearer telling him my intention. I was so sure he would dissuade me from it. Smith said he must really go; it was getting so late. He shook me by the hand, at the corner of his block, and left me.

"Smith," I cried, calling after him; "one moment. I may not see you again. I'm-I'm going to enlist."

"Are you?" was all he said, not at all startled by my announcement. "I should have done the same thing myself long ago, if I were not married."

"You're just the man I wanted to see," said he; "but how?"

"I am going to enlist."

"You don't tell me! My gracious!" exclaimed: Jim, opening his eyes with astonishment. "Let us have a drink.”

"What I want you to do, is to take me over to the recruiting office and receive fifteen dollars. hand money.

"I can't do that, old fellow."
Why not?"

Well, you may get killed," asserted Jim, in: the most matter-of-fact way.

"That's true," I somewhat ruefully agreed.

"If you were to, and I had taken any money for your enlistment, I should never forgive myself. It would be like receiving compensation for your death.”