'Altogether, our movement has been thus far marked by the most gratifying success. Every detail has been successfully carried out, the troops are in good health, and full of enthusiasm, the commissariat is improving, and we wait for nothing more anxiously than the order to resume our march onward."

A STORY OF SHILOH.

BRIGADIER-GENERAL GLADDEN, of South Carolina, who was in General Bragg's command, had his left arm shattered by a ball on the first day of the fight. Amputation was performed hastily by his staff-surgeon on the field; and, instead of being taken to the rear for quiet and nursing, he mounted his horse, against the most earnest remonstrances of all his staff, and continued to command. On Monday he was again in the saddle, and kept it during the day. On Tuesday he rode on horseback to Corinth, twenty miles from the scene of action, and continued to discharge the duties of an officer. On Wednesday, a second amputation, near the shoulder, was necessary, when General Bragg sent an aid to ask if he would not be relieved of his command. To which he replied, "Give General Bragg my compliments, and say that General Gladden will only give up his command to go into his coffin." Against the remonstrances of his personal friends, and against the positive injunctions of the surgeons, he persisted in sitting up in his chair, receiving despatches and giving directions, until Wednesday afternoon, when lockjaw seized him, and he died in a few moments.

THE BAND IN THE PINES.

(HEARD AFTER PELHAM DIED.)

BY JOHN ESTEN COOKE.

OH, band in the pinewood, cease!
Cease with your splendid call;

The living are brave and noble,

But the dead were bravest of all.

They throng to the martial summons,
To the loud, triumphant strain;

And the dear bright eyes of long dead friends
Come to the heart again!

They come with the ringing bugle,
And the deep drum's mellow roar;

Till the soul is faint with longing
For the hands we clasp no more.

Oh, band in the pinewood, cease!
Or the heart will melt in tears
For the gallant eyes and smiling lips,
And the voices of old years.

JACKSON'S PARTING WITH HIS OLD BRIGADE.

BEFORF leaving the army of the Potomac, Jackson took an affectionate farewell of the troops with whom he had been so long and so intimately connected. On the morning of the 4th of October, 1861, the gallant "Stonewall Brigade" was drawn up near its encampment at Centreville. All the

regiments, except the fifth, which was on picket, were present Drawn up in close columns, the officers and soldiers who had, on the immortal 21st of July, won such glory under the guidance of their gallant general, stood with sad hearts and sorrowful countenances to bid him farewell, while thousands of troops from other portions of the army stood by in respectful silence. In a short time, General Jackson, accompanied by his staff, left his quarters and rode slowly toward the brigade. He was received by them in silence. Until this moment his appearance had never failed to draw from his men the most enthusiastic cheers. But now, not a sound was heard! A deep and painful silence reigned over every thing; every heart was full. And this silence was more eloquent than cheers could have been.

men

As they reached the centre of the line the staff halted, and the general rode forward slowly to within a few paces of his Then, pausing, he gazed for a moment wistfully up and down the line. Beneath the calm, quiet exterior of the hero, there throbbed a warm and generous heart, and this parting filled it with inexpressible pain. After a silence of a few moments, General Jackson turned to his men and addressed them as follows:

Officers and Soldiers of the First Brigade! I am not here to make a speech, but simply to say, Farewell. I first met you at Harper's Ferry, in the commencement of this war, and I cannot take leave of you without giving expression to my admiration of your conduct from that day to this, whether on the march, the bivouac, the tented field, or on the bloody plains of Manassas, where you gained the well-deserved reputation of having decided the fate of the battle. Throughout the broad extent of country over which you have marched, by your respect for the rights and the property of citizens,

you have shown that you were soldiers, not only to defend, but able and willing both to defend and protect. You have already gained a brilliant and deservedly high reputation throughout the army of the whole Confederacy, and I trust in the future, by your deeds on the field, and by the assistance of the same kind Providence who has heretofore favored our cause, you will gain more victories, and add additional lustre to the reputation you now enjoy. You have already gained a proud position in the future history of this our second war of independence. I shall look with great anxiety to your future movements; and I trust, whenever I shall hear of the First Brigade on the field of battle, it will be of still nobler deeds achieved, and higher reputation won."

Having uttered these words, Jackson paused for an instant, and his eye passed slowly along the line, as though he wished thus to bid farewell individually to every old familiar face, so often seen in the heat of battle, and so dear to him. The thoughts which crowded upon him seemed more than he could bear-he could not leave them with such formal words only-and that iron lip which had never trembled in the hour of deadliest peril, now quivered. Mastered by an uncontrollable impulse, the great soldier rose in his stirrups, threw the reins on the neck of his horse with an emphasis which sent a thrill through every heart, and extending his arm, added, in tones of the deepest feeling:

"In the army of the Shenandoah you were the First Brigade! In the army of the Potomac you were the First Brigade! In the second corps of the army you are the First Brigade! You are the First Brigade in the affections of your general; and I hope by your future deeds and bearing you will be handed down to posterity as the First Brigade in this, our second war of independence. Farewell!”

For a moment there was a pause, and then there arose cheer after cheer, so wild and thrilling that the very heavens rang with ihem. Unable to bear calmly such affecting evidence of attachment, General Jackson hastily waved farewell to his men, and gathering his reins rode rapidly away.

THE GOOD SAMARITAN.

DURING the day after the battle of Manassas, a Federal soldier, who had been separated from his regiment in the general rout of the day before, tried to reach the lines of Washington by going through the woods. Being slightly wounded in the leg his progress was somewhat slow, so that by Wednesday night, he had only reached the environs of Fairfax. Exhausted and completely dispirited, he espied a Confederate picket, and deliberately walked up and told the sentry who he was. To his grateful surprise the southern soldier poured out some whiskey, gave him food, told him where he could find a stack of arms, and where he could sleep in perfect security in a negro hut. He added: "If we meet again in battle, I will not try very hard to shoot you, and mind you don't me." Truly a good Samaritan.

A FULL RATION FOR ONCE.

WHILE General John B. Floyd was encamped on Cotton Hill, in Fayette county, Virginia, in the fall of 1861, very stringent orders were issued against the firing of guns with