THE ECHOES.
Hush ! list to the echoes which come o’er the
wave,
@ I'rom the land of our fathers, the home of the
brave;’’
They whisper of battles which fiercely shall
wage,
They tell of a drama, and this is the stage.
In the warm sunny clime where the cotton plant
grows,
And the fair plains are decked with the bloom
of the rose;
Where for ages the black has in agony toiled,
While the lords of creation their hands have ot
soiled.
Where labor’s degrading, and manhood is
crushed,
Where crimes are committed at which devils
blushed ;
Where man is a chattel, and woman a thing
Whose charms on the block of an auction they
sing ;
Where the loftiest tic God has given to man,
Is distorted and broken as only slavery can;
Where the maid is dishonored, the mother de
filed ;
Where the. boy sells his mother, the father his
child ;
Where dishonor and treason stalk free o'er the
earth ;
Where slu\'ex,'y receives them and gives them a
birth :
Where the cries of the parted still ring in the
air,
Crying wild o'er the waters ‘O where love,
tell where
Have they borne thee to linger in sorrow alone,
And ne'r know a comfort, a joy or a home !”’
Hark ! list to the echoes whick peal in despair !
They tell one of sorrow, they ted one of care,
Hush ! list to the echoes bow wildly they rage !
They tell me of this, the first act on the stage.
Hark ! list to the echoes, the North witha bound,
O’er the bright belt of states let the war-trumpet
sound !
They flock from the workshop, they come from
the field ;
The sword of their fathers the strong arm they
wield.
They strike for that banner which once o'er the
land
Spread its folds 'neath which patriots in honor
could stand.
Hark ! list to the echoes sounding sternly to-day,
And this is the second great act in the play,
Hark! list to the echoes which come o’er the
sea,
From the land of our fathers, the home of the
free!
'Tis night ; on the bank of the river they sleep,
The men of the workshop, the sons of the deep :
Not asound breaks the silence (they hear not
their foes)
But the steps of the sentry as his comrades re
pose.
But hark! hear the echoes ‘“‘to arms!” now
they say ; .
In a moment we meetl them in battle array,
With the cry of ‘‘ America, God and the right !"’
'll{ity the wretches crying quarter to-night.
en the battle is over, and o’er the redoubts
We listen with joy to the victors’ loud shouts 3
Hark ! hear ye the echoes sounding glory to
day
And that this is the tragical act of the play.
Hush ! list to the echoes ! our banuner now bright
Spreads its folds o’er our country, dispelling
the night;
While o’er the still waters the cannon’s loud
tones :
Cry out in their thunder, ‘‘ Come, come to your
homes ;
For the star-spangled banner shall wave o’er
the free
While the earth bears its fruit or a ship sails the
sea.’’
Hark ! hear ye the echoes sounding joyous to
day,
For they tell us that this is the end of the play.
e s el AQe o
If those Southern Blades are Dull enough to
spend all their money in rebellion, they must
soon get Strapped.
Driftings.
e @ @ P e
A good thing is told of a battle-scarred
North Carolina regiment, which entered Rich
mond not a great while ago while a company of
‘* citizen soldiers’’ were performing their ‘“ evo
lutions”’ in the streets. The ears of the Old
North State were greeted by a good many un
complimentary interrogations concerning the
persimmon and huckleberry crops. At length
one of the F. F. V.’s asked :
‘ What is the state of the tar market ?"”’
North Carolina responded : ‘' There’s not a
bar’l in the State; Jefl Davis has bought the
last bar'l we had and brought it to Rich
mond.”’
“ What in the d——ll does he want with it?”’
“* He wants it to make Virginians stick in the
fight.”
North Carolina was no further molested.
A poet lecturer (Saxe, very likely) was
congratulated, the other day, on the pleasure of
popularity.
“*Don’t you find it pleasant,’’ said a pretty
woman, ‘*to be surrounded by a crowd of ladies,
in the way you were last night, after the lec
e’
“Yes,'' said ——, smiling his acknowledg
meut of the compliment; *-but it would be
vastly plessanter to be surrounded by one.”’
A hypocritical scoundrel in Atheuns inscrib
ed over his door, ‘‘ Let no evil enter here,’
Divgones wrote under it, * How docs the owner
get in 2"
White hair is the chalk with which Time
keeps his score—two, three or four-score, as the
case nuiy be—on a man’s head.
A geptieman observing that he had fallen
aslecp during a sermon preached by a bishop, a
wag remarked that it must have been Bishop tR¥
composer.
To excel in anything valuable is great. but
be above conceit on account of one's accom
plisinents is greater.
The vanity of human life is like a river,
to constautly passing away, and yet counstantly
coming on. .
Most married men must think the devil
slow of toct, they so often catch him.
The wan who attempted to look into the
future had the doorslammed in his face.
.\ facetious individual wishes to know if a
““ bee line”’ must necessarily have a waz end.
lt a police officer is after you, the best thing
you can do is to lock the door, and then bolt
yourselt.
eA B .
“Tread Lightly, Jimmy.”
As two soms of the ‘‘ Emerald Isle’’ were,
walking along a turnpike, they came across a
mile-stone, on which was the following in
scription :
17 MILES
TO
HOBOKEN.
As Pat saw the mile-stone he exclaimed !
““Tread lightly, Jimmy ! here lies the dead !
They then commenced reading the insciiption,
which they made out as follows :
MILES HOBOKEN,
AGED 17,
City of Atlanta.
l The city of Atlanta contains about 20,00 in
habitants, 5,000 having been added by the refu
i gees and government officials since the war be
{ gan. Being in the heart of the Gulf States, it
l was supposed to be particularly safe, and, there
| fore, well adapted for armorics, arsenals and
’ supply depots. It was moreover the center of
the railway system of that section, whence men
'E and material could be advantageously distribu
{ ted to all peints. Three main railroads diverge
i from it; the road to Chattancoga on the north ;
l the Georgia Road, running east to Charleston ;
and the road on the south, which looks into
| that leading to Montgomery and Peusecola on
{ the south-west, and into that running through
i Macon to Savannah on the south-east. The city
|is laid out in a circle two miles in dimuc@er. It
| forms, says a recent refugee, one \-
et storehouse. Here are located the#iliiine
{ thops of the principal railroads, the most exten -
‘ sive rolling mill in the South, founderies, pistol
'and tent fuctories, &c., &c. In addition, the
! government have works for casting shot and
j:hcll, m:\ki.ug guu-curri;gcs, cartridges, caps,
; shoes, clotbing, &c.
é e st @ B e e
! “Old Hundred” in Camp.
| A letter from Gen. Sherman’s army down
, about the Kenesaw Mountains, says :
{ ““Atearly dawn this morning (July 3), be
| fore the troops were fully awakened from their
i slumbers, the melodious notes of ‘- Old Hun
| dred,” given forth by one of the brigade bands,
E rang out upon the air, and were echoed by the
| wreen-capped hills beyond. Soldiers iustantly
t occupied in preparing the morniag meal, stood
| still and listened to the melody, and instinct
| ively joiued in it.
| ~ ¢t flew from regimnent to regiment; brigade
after brigade took it up, and ere the notes of the
; band ceased to reverberate, five thousand voices
{ were raised in ‘Praise God from whom all
| blessings flow.” A moment later all was still.
! Breakfast was taken; and so silently did the
veterans of many battle-fields break camp and
tull into line that everybody remarked it, and
complimented them for their conduct. | have
| heard ‘ Old Hundred’ often when the huge lungs
L of the organ scemed inspired with life, and a
I congregation joined their melodious voices ; but
never until to-day did I hear it sung with the
; full inspiration of the soul.”
L
Something New.
Dip you ever hear of the way in which the
man by the name of ‘{ New,”” who had so many
children, got out of his difficulty about giving
them names? He had had twelve male respon
sibilities presented to him. He had exhausted
lthe vocabulary of names. There was James
New, and William New, .and Joh\q New, and
| Stephen New, etc., ete. At last ke was presen
ted with the thirteenth child. It was a boy
again. What to call him he hadn’t the slight
est idea. So at last in utter desperation, to the
consternation of his wife, he aamed him Nothing
New. The next child was afirl. Well, now
there was no difficulty. But his better half in
sisted upon having the naming of that child her
self. Several months passed, during which she
resolutely kept the name to hecself. At last,
when christening day came round, she as
tonished her good lord and the aussembled com
pany, by naming the little girl ‘' Something
New."