carefully inspecting the strangers and their pass, he quietly told them to move on, and resumed his seat and his book. One of the party glanced at the volume, and found that it was a beautiful copy of Tennyson's Poems. A HEROINE IN BALTIMORE.-The band of the Sixth Regiment that left Boston in April, 1861, consisted of twenty-four persons, who, together with their musical instruments, occupied a car by themselves from Philadelphia to Baltimore. By some accident, the musicians' car got switched off at the Canton Depot, so that, instead of being the first, it was left in the rear of all the others, and after the attack had been made by the mob upon the soldiers, they came upon the car in which the band was still sitting, wholly unarmed, and incapable of making any defence. The infuriated demons approached them howling and yelling, and poured in upon them a shower of stones, broken iron, and other missiles, wounding some severely, and demolishing their instruments. Some of the miscreants jumped upon the roof of the car, and with a bar of iron beat a hole through it, while others were calling for powder to blow them all up in a heap. Finding that it would be sure destruction to remain longer in the car, the poor fellows jumped out to meet their fiendish assailants hand to hand. They were saluted with a shower of stones, but took to their heels, fighting their way through the crowd, and running at random, without knowing in what direction to go for assistance or shelter. As they were hurrying along, a rough-looking man suddenly jumped in front of their leader, and exclaimed, "This way, boys! this way!" It was the first friendly voice they had heard since entering Baltimore, and they stopped to ask no questions, but followed their guide, who took them up a narrow court, where they found an open door, into which they rushed, being met inside by a powerful-looking woman, who grasped each one by the hand, and directed them upstairs. The last of their band was knocked senseless just as he was entering the door, by a stone, which struck him on the head; but the woman who had welcomed them immediately caught up their fallen comrade, and carried him in her arms up the stairs. "You are perfectly safe here, boys," said the Amazon, who directly proceeded to wash and bind up their wounds. After having done this, she procured them food, and then told them to strip off their uniforms, and put on the clothes she had brought them, a motley assortment of baize jackets, ragged coats, and old trousers. Thus equipped, they were enabled to go out in search of their companions, without danger of attack from the Plug Uglies and Blood Tubs, who had given them so rough a reception. They then learned the particulars of the attack upon the soldiers, and of their escape, and saw lying at the station the two men who had been killed, and the others who had been wounded. One of their own band was missing, and he has not yet been found, and it is uncertain whether he was killed or not. On going back to the house where they were so humanely treated, they found that their clothes had been carefully tied up, and with their battered instruments, had been sent to the depot of the Philadelphia Railroad, where they were advised to go themselves. They did not long hesitate, but started in the next train, and arrived at Philadelphia just in time to meet the Eighth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, under the command of Gen. Butler, who told them to hurry back to the Old Bay State to show their battered faces and broken limbs, and that they should yet come back, and play Hail Columbia in the streets of Baltimore, where they had been so inhumanly assaulted. The noble-hearted woman who rescued these men is a well-known character in Baltimore, and according to all the usages of Christian society, is an outcast and a polluted being; but she is a true heroine, nevertheless, and entitled to the grateful consideration of the country. When Gov. Hicks had put himself at the head of the rabble rout of miscreants, and Winter Davis had fled in dismay, and the men of wealth and official dignity had hid themselves in their terror, and the police were powerless to protect the handful of unarmed strangers who were struggling with the infuriated mob, this degraded woman took them under her protection, dressed their wounds, fed them at her own cost, and sent them back in safety to their homes. As she is too notorious in Baltimore not to be perfectly well known by what we have already told of her, it will not be exposing her to any persecution to mention her name. Ann Manley is the name by which she is known in the city of Blood Tubs, and the loyal men of the North, when they march again through its streets, should remember her for her humanity to their countrymen. THE MODERN GILPIN. A BALLAD OF BULL RUN. WILL RUSSELL was a writer rare, On Indian and Crimean coasts He wrote of guns and drums, And now as through our land he posts, To Washington he comes. Will Russell said to chosen friend, "Though four months I have been In search of some great Yankee fight, No skrimmage have I seen. To-morrow's sun will see a fight On Bull Run's banks, they say; So there, my friend, we'll early go, All in a two-'oss shay. I'll also take a saddle-horse And I will don the coolest of Fresh stores of pens I'll surely need, While in the bottom of the gig We'll stow the choice Bordeaux, And for that, in this heathen land, I've here wrapped up some sausage, too, Has taught me how to forage, Smack! went his lips at thought thereof, Like clouds of dust his spirits rise, While merry cracks the whip; The led-horse pranced and "bobbed around" Like porpoise round a ship. The Long Bridge planks jumped up and down In sympathetic jig - They little thought he would return Minus the "creaking gig." That rotten Rubicon is passed, And likewise frowning "Runyon' Its outline marked with many a black Columbiad on its trunnion. Past fields where just the day before The harvest-scythe was sweeping, As rise the distant cannon's tones, His thoughts half on the work "in front". At length he's there at Centreville! But ere he ventures, careful soul! "To give his horses breath." The dubious issue of the fight Up sprang Will Russell from the charms His toilet for "the front" prepares In his Crimean style. "My 'oss! my 'oss! quick, bring it me! What would the Thunderer say, If they should end this Bull Run fight, His "Indian" sack hangs down and hides His hat o'erhangs his jolly form Beneath its shade, his round, red face In guise like this, he grandly mounts But lo! a motley frightened crowd Of such as ever follow camps, And pushing through this heaving mass He found himself 'mid reeling ranks, But 'mid that frightened crowd, he says And puffs, and scolds, and wonders, too, "I do declare! What means all this? - The dainty stores that fed "the staff' The teamsters "cut and ran," and left; "The Cavalry!" at that dread sound And eke before his mental eye The dreadful vision rose, Of that warm suit the Southern press "That threat! when 'tis so 'orrid 'ot- His anxious looks, yet valiant words, While thus he trembles for his life, So, to his eye, each ambulance At each artillery "thud" he hears, And eke behind his Indian sack Swells in balloon-like manner, While flaps and flies around his neck The buff and red bandanna! Again he's back at Centreville, In search of friend and gig; "They are not here! nor 'am, nor teaThey're just the things to prig. O for a glass of wine, or slice Of those fine wasted 'ams! So now for Washington, my steed! You brought me here to see a fight, A sudden squad of fugitives Here through the village fled, But as he leads the flying herd Behold, across the road drawn up "What brings you here?" the Colonel shouts. "Back! back! I say: I'll shoot The coward that across my ranks The herd recoils, save Russell wild, "But, sir-you know! - I'm English! Come! You must not me arrest! I have a pass-aw! here it is! Nor time lost Will, as off he dashed, A loop of sack and havelock both, At Fairfax Court House next he stops, But here his rest by Boniface Is quickly broken up. Quoth he, "They fear Virginia's horse? These mountain riders number now Full twenty thousand men !" "Good 'eavens! no?- but do they though?" Our startled hero cries. Then off again, though cruel need, To Washington he flies! Night finds him bravely spurring on Past wood, and grove, and thicket, With brave words frequent cheering up "What news? What news?" they all do shout. Says Russell in reply: "It is no rout! the army's safe! Keep up your heart — don't fly !" "Stop! stop! Bill Russell! tell us why," Loud after him they bawl, "If all is safe, you run so fast, Or why you run at all?” Yet on he flies; up hill, down dale, "The guards are set upon the bridge; They'll hail me soon, and I may die Is good, as you'll agree, At last he's safe upon the bridge! Hang brightly dripping down! Then droops his head, then droops his steed, In sympathetic manner; Then droops his sack, then droops also The buff and red bandanna! Can this be he that o'er these planks The bridge is passed! and he again And swells, and puffs, and comforts all But sudden from the rising clouds "The foe!" he cries, and fearful lists He's off again! up Fourteenth Street! The buff and red bandanna! His rooms are reached, he bolts his door, A midnight supper ready spread, No time, by doffing hat or dress, Sausage, and cheese, and 'am again, What grunts of bliss beneath that hat At last he's full! but quickly now To forge fit bolts of caustic for His chief, the Thunderer! His pen is drawn, and o'er his sheet In telling what he thought he saw — But soon the inspiration's o'er ! Hark to the thunders of his snore! While with each swell still rose and fell Rest, Russell, rest! thy race is o'er; Now let us sing, in jolly ring, Great Russell's martial spreeWhen next he goes to see a fight, May he get there to see! Ye poets! who may sing some day, In strains, rich, racy, full, The race from Bull Run, don't forget The run of Mr. Bull. INCIDENTS OF BULL RUN.At the battle, when the order came from the headquarters for the retreat, word was passed down the line to the New York Zouaves. "Do not!" exclaimed a score of the "pet lambs" in a breath. "Do not!" "We are ordered to retreat," said the commander. "Wot'n thunder's that?" responded one of the hard-heads, who evidently did not comprehend the word exactly. "Go backtire," continued the commander. "Go backwhere?" "Leave the field." "Leave? Why, that ain't what we come for. We're here to fight," insisted the boys. "We came here with 1,040 men," said the commander. "There are now 600 left. Fall back, boys!" and the "lambs" sulkily retired, evidently displeased with the order. -re Two of the New Hampshire Second were leaving the field, through the woods, when they were suddenly confronted by five rebels, who ordered them to "halt! or we fire." The Granite boys saw their dilemma, but the foremost of them presented his musket, and answered, "Halt you, or we fire!" and, at the word, both discharged their pieces. The rebel fell, his assailant was unharmed. Seizing his companion's musket, he brought it to his shoulder, and said to the other, "Fire!" Both fired their guns at once, and two more rebels fell. The others fled. The leader's name was Hanford, from Dover, N. H. As the Maine troops were leaving the field of battle, a soldier stepped up to one of the officers of the Fifth regiment, and requested him to lend him a knife. The officer took out a common pocketknife, and handed it to the soldier, who sat down at the side of the road, pulled up the leg of his trousers, and deliberately dug a musket-ball out of his leg, jumped up, and resumed his march. When the news of the repulse reached the camp meeting at Desplaines, Ill., Rev. Henry Cox, who was preaching at the time the intelligence was received, remarked, on closing his sermon, 'Brethren, we had better adjourn this camp meeting, and go home and drill." 66 ADVENTURE OF A SPY. -I have lately returned from the South; but my exact whereabouts in that region, for obvious reasons, it would not be politic to state. Suspected of being a Northerner, it was often my advantage to court obscurity. Known as a spy, a "short shrift" and a ready rope would have prevented the blotting of this paper. Hanging, disguised, on the outskirts of a camp, mixing with its idlers, laughing at their jokes, examining their arms, counting their numbers, endeavoring to discover the plans of their leaders, listening to this party and pursuing that, joining in the chorus of a rebel song, betting on rebel success, cursing Abolitionism, reviling Lincoln, traducing Scott, extolling Gen. Beauregard, despising Northern fighters, laughing at their tactics and sneering at their weapons, praising the beauty of Southern belles and decrying that of Northern, calling New York a den of cutthroats, and New Orleans a paradise of immaculate chivalry, is but a small portion of the practice of my profession as a spy. This may not seem honorable nor desirable. As to the honor, let the country that benefits by the investigations and warnings of the spy be judge; and the danger, often incurred, is more serious and personal than that of the battle-field, which may, perhaps, detract from its desirability. mer. pickets must be reached in safety before the morning broke, or I should soon swing between heaven and earth, from some green limb of the black forest in which I stood. At that moment the low, sullen bay of a bloodhound struck my ear. The sound was reviving -the fearful stillness broken. The uncertain dread flew before the certain danger. I was standing to my middle in the shallow bed of the river, just beneath the jutting banks. After a pause of a few seconds I began to creep mechanically and stealthily down the stream, followed, as I knew from the rustling of the grass and frequent breaking of twigs, by the insatiable brute; although, by certain uneasy growls, I felt assured he was at fault. Something struck against my breast. I could not prevent a slight cry from escaping me, as, stretching out my hand, I grasped the gunwale of a boat moored beneath the bank. Between surprise and joy I felt half choked. In an instant I had scrambled on board, and began to search for the painter in the bow, in order to cast her from her fastenings. It was a dark night. Not a star on the glim- Suddenly a bright ray of moonlight - the first I had collected my quotum of intelligence, gleam of hope in that black night - fell directly and was on the move for the Northern lines. I on the spot, revealing the silvery stream, my own was approaching the banks of a stream whose skiff, (hidden there ten days before,) lighting the waters I had to cross, and had then some miles deep shadows of the verging wood, and, on the to traverse before I could reach the pickets of our log half buried in the bank, and from which I had gallant troops. A feeling of uneasiness began to that instant cast the line that had bound me to creep over me; I was on the outskirt of a wood it, the supple form of the crouching bloodhound, fringing the dark waters at my feet, whose pres- his red eyes gleaming in the moonlight, jaws disence could scarcely be detected but for their sul- tended, and poising for the spring. With one sen murmurs as they rushed through the gloom.dart the light skiff was yards out in the stream, The wind sighed in gentle accordance. I walked forty or fifty yards along the bank. I then crept on all-fours along the ground, and groped with my hands. I paused-I groped again. my breath thickened, perspiration oozed from me at every pore, and I was prostrated with horror! I had missed my landmark, and knew not where I Below or above, beneath the shelter of the bank, lay the skiff I had hidden ten days before, when I commenced my operations among the followers of Jeff Davis. was. and the savage after it. With an oar I aimed a blow at his head, which, however, he eluded with ease. In the effort thus made the boat careened over towards my antagonist, who made a desperate effort to get his forepaws over the side, at the same time seizing the gunwale with his teeth. Now or never was my time to get rid of the accursed brute. I drew my revolver, and placed the muzzle between his eyes, but hesitated to fire, for that one report might bring on me a volley from the shore. Meantime the strength of the As I stood gasping for breath, with all the un-dog careened the frail craft so much that the mistakable proofs of my calling about me, the sud-water rushed over the side, threatening to swamp den cry of a bird or plunging of a fish would act her. I changed my tactics, threw my revolver like magnetism on my frame, not wont to shud- into the bottom of the skiff, and grasping my der at a shadow. No matter how pressing the "bowie," keen as a Malay creese, and glittering, danger may be, if a man sees an opportunity for escape, he breathes with freedom. But let him be surrounded by darkness, impenetrable at two yards' distance, within rifle's length of concealed foes, for what knowledge he has to the contrary; knowing, too, with painful accuracy, the detection of his presence would reward him with a sudden and violent death, and if he breathes no faster, and feels his limbs as free and his spirits as light as when taking a favorite promenade, he is more fitted for a hero than I am. In the agony of that moment-in the sudden and utter helplessness I felt to discover my true bearings-I was about to let myself gently into the stream, and breast its current, for life or death. There was no alternative. The Northern as I released it from the sheath, like a moonbeam on the stream. In an instant I had severed the sinewy throat of the hound, cutting through brawn and muscle to the nape of the neck. The tenacious wretch gave a wild, convulsive leap half out of the water, then sank, and was gone. Five minutes' pulling landed me on the other side of the river, and in an hour after, without further accident, I was among friends, encompassed by the Northern lines. That night I related at headquarters the intelligence I had gathered. A FIDDLER.When Wright's Georgia regi ment was drawn up in line of battle, to go into its first fight in North Carolina, Wright, (after |