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"Madam, my duty must be done,

And I am firm as rock!"

Then, pointing to her work he said,

"Is that a rebel sock!"

"Yes, honey, I am getting old,
And for hard work aint fit,
But for Confed'rate soldiers still,

I thank the Lord can knit."
"Madam, your work is contraband,
And Congress confiscates
This rebel sock which I now seize,
To the United States."

"Yes, honey, don't be scared, for I

Will give it up to you."

Then slowly from the half knit sock
The dame her needles drew,

Broke off her thread, wound up her ball

And stuck the needles in

"Here, take it, child, and I to-night

Another will begin !"

The soldier next his loyal heart

The dear-bought trophy laid,
And that was all that Seward got
By this "old woman's raid."

NOBLE SOUTHERN WOMEN.

MUCH has been written about Spartan women of old,much about the noble Roman matron,-much about our excellent "foremothers of the Revolution;" but it has been reserved for the women of our sunny South to blend the

virtues of these heroines all in one, and present to the world the brightest example of firmness, courage, and patriotism. Look at the hundreds of women all over our land-delicate ones, who have been reared in the lap of luxury; who have heretofore been shielded from every rough blast; women who, a year ago, were lingering over the ivory keys of their pianos, or discussing with their dressmakers the shade of silk which became their complexion best; and see how they have risen, without a dissenting voice, to meet the exigencies of the times. "What shall I wear?" is now a question seldom asked. The only attention that dress demands is the consideration, “Will it be a piece of economy to purchase this or that?" and daily we hear the remark, "I want homespun dresses, they are the best for us now." Instead of finding our women at the piano, or on the fashionable promenade, we find them busy at their looms, busy at their wheels, busy making soldiers' uniforms, busy making bandages, busy in hospitals, busy girding up their sons, their husbands, and their fathers for the battle-field. Tell me, are they not a noble race? Luxury has not enervated them; adversity has not depressed them. There was once a French queen, who, surrounding herself by her maids of honor, wrought, day after day, on delicate tapestry, with which the churches in her realm were afterwards hung. It was thought to be an act of great virtue in her. The fact was registered upon the rage of history; and she has been held up to her sex as a

shining example." But she did not, as the wife of our governor has done, set herself down to sew on heavy woollen goods for soldiers; she did not throw aside the silken robe and the golden chain, and apply herself, day after day, with unwearied assiduity, over stiff fabrics, which make the shoulders and the fingers alike ache. Nearly all the band

ages that were used on the bloody field of Manassas, between the 21st and 23d of July, 1861, were made and forwarded by two Georgia women, Mrs. Robert Hardaway and her sister, who reside near Columbus. Southern matrons are indeed the jewels of our land.

THE LITTLE GIRL'S KINDNESS TO THE
SOLDIERS.

AFTER the battle of Sharpsburg, we passsd over a line of railroad in Central Georgia. The disabled soldiers from General Lee's armies were returning to their homes. At every station the wives and daughters of the farmers came on the cars, and distributed food and wines and bandages among the sick and wounded.

We shall never forget how very like an angel was a little girl,-how blushingly and modestly she went to a great, rude, bearded soldier, who had carved a crutch from a rough plank to replace a lost leg; how this little girl asked him if he was hungry, and how he ate like a famished wolf! She asked if his wound was painful, and in a voice of soft, mellow accents: "Can I do nothing more for you? I am sorry that you are so badly hurt; have you a little daughter, and won't she cry when she sees you?"

The rude soldier's heart was touched, and tears of love and gratitude filled his eyes. He only answered: "I have three little children; God grant they may be such angels as you."

With an evident effort he repressed a desire to kiss the fair brow of the pretty little girl. He took her little hand be

tween both his own, and bade her " and bade her "good-by-God bless you!" The child will always be a better woman because of these lessons of practical charity stamped ineffaceably upon her young heart.

SPIRIT OF THE WOMEN OF VIRGINIA.

A LADY of Clark County, Virginia, whose husband had been during two years in Yankee prisons, and in exile from his home, and whose son (an only child, in his eighteenth year) was then in some northern bastile, as a prisoner of war, wrote to her husband as follows: "If it were possible, I should like you to be at home; but I do not want you or O. ever to give up the struggle for liberty and our rights. If your salary fails to pay your board, go at something else for the Confederacy; I will try and contrive a way to clothe you. I would love to be with you; but do not expect it now, in these times. I wish O. was at home-I mean in his company; but I would rather he would be held a prisoner for the war, than have him at home dodging his duty, as some do. I am proud to think every man in my little family is in the army. If I have but two, they are at their posts of duty."

TRAVELLING UNDER A FLAG OF TRUCE.*

ON the first day of December, early in the morning, 1 started for Fortress Monroe, under the charge of Captain Mix and an orderly-sergeant.

* From "Belle Boyd, in Camp and Prison." Written by herself.

After being subjected to the annoying and ungentlemanly conduct of Captain Mix, who seerned to exert himself especially to make every thing as disagreeable as he possibly could for me, I arrived at Fortress Monroe about nine A. M. on Wednesday morning. Captain Mix immediately went on shore to report to Captain Cassels, the provost marshal an aide-de-camp to Butler, to whose care I was to be committed until the "exchange boat" should start for Richmond.

Meanwhile all the passengers had landed, and I was left in the charge of the orderly sergeant. Major (now General) Mulford, the exchange officer, returned on board with Captain Mix, and was introduced to me. I found him an elegant and courteous gentleman. In a short time I was escorted from the boat to the provost marshal's office, passing between a company of negro soldiers, who were filed on each side. Thence I was taken into the fortress, to Butler's headquarters, and, after waiting a short time, I was conducted into his august presence.

He was seated near a table, and upon my entrance he looked up and said: "Ah, so this is Miss Boyd, the famous rebel spy. Pray be seated."

"Thank you, General Butler, but I prefer to stand."

I was very much agitated, and trembled greatly. This he noticed, and remarked: "Pray be seated. But why do you tremble so? Are you frightened ?"

"No; ah! that is, yes, General Butler; I must acknowledge that I do feel frightened in the presence of a man of such world-wide reputation as yourself."

This seemed to please him immensely, and, rubbing his hands together and smiling most benignly, he said: "Oh, pray do be seated, Miss Boyd. But what do you mean when you say that I am widely known."

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