The following is a complete list of her captures:Ockmulgee, Starlight, Ocean Rover, Alert, Weathergauge, Altamaha, Benjamin Tucker, Courser, Virginia, Elisha Dunbar, Brilliant, Emily Faruum, Wave Crest, Dunquerque, Manchester, Tonawanda, Lamplighter, Lafayette, Crenshaw, Lauretta, Baron de Castine, Levi Starbuck, T. B. Wales, Chastalaire, Palmetto, Golden Eagle, Olive Jane, Washington, Betha Thager, J. A. Parker, Punjaub, Morning Star, Kingfisher, Charles Hill, Nora, Louisa Hatch, Lafayette, Kate Corey, Nye, Dorcas Price, Lelah, Union Jack, S. Gildensleeve, J. Snow, Justina, Amazonian, Martha, Union, Ariel, mail steamer; United States gunboat Hatteras, Golden Rule, Talisman, Conrad, A. F. Schmidt, Express, Sea Bride.

The Alabama had the usual quota of wits and fun-makers among her crew. An Irish fiddler on board is the life of the forecastle. When the men are off duty he sets them dancing to his lighter strains, or, dividing them into Northerners and Southerners, like a true Irishman, he gets up a sham-fight to the spirit-stirring strains of a march, in which fight the Northerners are, of course, invariably beaten. Another sailor, Frank Townshend, is no mean poet, as will be seen from the verses which here follow. He had sung the exploits of their beloved ship to his messmates in rude and vigorous strains.

THE FIGHT OF THE "HATTERAS" AND
"ALABAMA."

OFF Galveston, the Yankee fleet secure at anchor lay
Preparing for a heavy fight they were to have next day ;
Down came the Alabama, like an eagle o'er the wave,

And soon their gunboat Hatteras had found a watery grave.

"Twas in the month of January; the day was bright and clear; The Alabama she bore down; no Yankee did we fear:

Their commodore he spied us; to take us long he burned;
So he sent the smartest boat he had, but she never back returned!

The sun had sunk far in the west when down to us she came; Our captain quickly hailed her, and asked them for her name; Then spoke our first lieutenant, for her name had roused his ire, "This is the Alabama; now, Alabamas, fire."

Then flew a rattling broadside, that made her timbers shake; And through the holes made in her side the angry waves did break;

We then blew up her engine, that she could steam no more— They fired a gun to leeward, and so the fight was o'cr.

So thirteen minutes passed away before they gave in beat;
A boat had left the Yankee's side, and pulled in for their fleet;
The rest we took on board of us, as prisoners to stay;
Then stopped and saw their ship go down, and then we bore
away.

And now, to give our foes their due, they fought with all their might;

But yet they could not conquer us, for God defends the right; One at a time the ships they have to fight us they may come, And rest assured that our good ship from them will never run.

THE RIVER DEVILS.

A FEDERAL writer tells the following amusing story:— The principal diver employed at Port Royal for cleaning the bottoms of the monitors, was named-and quite appro

priately--Waters. A man of herculean strength and proportions, he became, when clad in his submarine armor, positively monstrous in size and appearance. A more singular sight than to see him roll or tumble into the water and disappear from sight, or popping up, blowing, as the air escaped from his helmet, like a young whale, could scarcely be imagined. Remaining for five or six hours at a time under water, he had become almost amphibious.

Waters had his own ideas of a joke, and when he had a curious audience would wave his scraper about as he bobbed around on the water, with the air of a veritable river-god One summer day, while he was employed scraping the hull of a monitor, a negro from one of the up-river plantations came alongside with a boat load of watermelons. While busy selling his melons, the diver came up, and rested himself on the side of the boat. The negro started at the extraordinary appearance thus suddenly coming out of the water, with alarmed wonder; but when the diver, with gigantic motion, seized one of the plumpest melons in the boat and disappeared under the water-the gurgling of the air from the helmet mixing with his muffled laughter-the fright of the negro reached a climax. Hastily seizing his oars, without a thought of being paid for his melons, he put off at his best speed, nor was he ever seen in the vicinity of Station Creek again. Believing that the Yankees had brought river devils to aid them in carrying on the war, no persuasion could tempt him again beyond the bounds of the plantation.

CHEER UP, MY LADS.

BY E. KING.

CHEER up, my lads, a brisk breeze is blowing,
And swiftly our ship glides through the rough sea;
Unfurled is our banner, and gallantly throwing

Our star begemmed cross wide over our lee.
Draw hither, my lads, fill your glasses right cheery,
In red wine we'll drink to the land that I name,
And when duty calls may we never be weary

Of fighting for freedom, for honor, and fame,
Then drink to the South, dear home of the free,
And success to her arms on land and on sea!

Should down-trodden nations e'er ask, as a blessing,
A haven of rest on our own peaceful shore,
We'll lend them a hand, as a parent caressing
The wandering child that seeks bread at his door.
No higher ambition than this do we cherish,

No high sounding titles our names to adorn;
The battle we'll brave, or triumphantly perish

In defending our flag till it outrides the storm.
Then drink to the South, dear home of the free,
And success to her arms on land and on sea!

If war's dread alarms drive peace from your pillow,
And we've tyrants to meet upon the wide main,
Remember poor Jack, who, rocked on the billow,

Is defending the land he may ne'er see again.
Then a cheer, boys, we'll give in our rough seaman manner,
As we launch forth our fire with unerring eye,
And so long as a star shall remain on our banner,
With courage we'll fight, or sink boys and die.
Then drink to the South, dear home of the free,

And success to her arms on land and on sea!

THE ATTACK ON THE IRONSIDES.

ONE of the most daring and gallant naval exploits of the war, distinguished by the greatest coolness, presence of mind, and intrepidity of the brave men associated in the enterprise, was performed Monday night, October 6th, 1863. This was no less than an attempt to blow up the United States steamer New Ironsides, lying off Morris Island. Though not fully meeting the expectations of those who conceived the plan, and those who carried it into execution, it called forth unbounded admiration for the brilliant heroism of the actors in their dangerous but patriotic and self-sacrificing undertaking.

The torpedo-steamer David, with a crew of four volun teers, consisting of Lieutenant William T. Glassell, J. H. Toombs, chief engineer, and James Sullivan, fireman of the gunboat Chicora, with J. W. Cannon, assistant pilot of the gunboat Palmetto State, left South Atlantic wharf between six and seven o'clock in the evening, for the purpose of running out to the Ironsides, exploding a torpedo under that vessel near amidships, and if possible blow her up. The weather, being dark and hazy, favored the enterprise. The boat, with its gallant little crew, proceeded down the harbor, skirting along the shoals on the inside of the channel, until nearly abreast of their formidable antagonist, the New Ironsides.

They remained in this position for a short time, circling around on the large shoal near the anchorage of the object of their visit. Lieutenant Glassell, with a double-barrelled gun, sat in front of Pilot Cannon, who had charge of the helm. Chief engineer Toombs was at the engine, with the brave and undaunted Sullivan, the volunteer fireman, when something like the following conversation ensued: