Monthly Archives: June 2009

TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN.

PROUDEST of all earth’s thrones
Is his who rules by a free people’s choice;
Who, ‘midst fierce party strife and battle groans,
Hears, ever rising in harmonious tones,
A grateful people’s voice.

Steadfast in thee we trust,
Tried as no man was ever tried before;
God made thee merciful–God keep thee just;
Be true!–and triumph over all thou must.
God bless thee evermore!

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THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG.

WE are a band of brothers, and natives to the soil,
Fighting for the property we gained by honest toil;
And when our rights were threatened, the cry rose near and far,
Hurrah for the bonnie Blue Flag that bears the single star!

CHORUS.

Hurrah! hurrah! for the bonnie Blue Flag
That bears the single star.

As long as the Union was faithful to her trust,
Like friends and like brothers, kind were we and just;
But now, when Northern treachery attempts our rights to mar,
We hoist on high the bonnie Blue Flag that bears the single star.

First, gallant South Carolina nobly made the stand;
Then came Alabama, who took her by the hand;
Next quickly Mississippi, Georgia and Florida–
All raised the flag, the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

Ye men of valor, gather round the banner of the right;
Texas and fair Louisiana join us in the fight.
Davis, our loved President, and Stephens, statesmen are;
Now rally round the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

And here’s to brave Virginia! The Old Dominion State
With the young Confederacy at length has linked her fate.
Impelled by her example, now other States prepare
To hoist on high the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

Then here’s to our Confederacy; strong we are and brave:
Like patriots of old we’ll fight, our heritage to save;
And rather than submit ‘o shame, to die we would prefer;
So cheer for the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

Then cheer, boys, cheer; raise the joyous shout,
For Arkansas and North Carolina now have both gone out;
And let another rousing cheer for Tennessee be given.
The single star of the bonnie Blue Flag has grown to be eleven!

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A DARING ADVENTURE.–

It was late in the summer of 1864. The veteran and heroic army of Sherman had commenced in May that wonderful series of battles and marches which lasted while the rebellion continued, and which were the fatal and finishing blows by which the rebellion was crushed. By degrees, and after marking every mountain pass and almost every mile with blood, the rebel army had been pushed back and dislodged from one position after another, till now they had settled sullenly around the doomed city of Atlanta. The cautious and able Johnson was displaced in favor of the madcap and brainless fighter, Hood, who, in the language of the insurgent chief, “was determined to strike one manly blow for Atlanta.” While the antagonists lay thus at bay, and Sherman was perfecting the details of that splendid manaeuvre by which the stronghold became ours, a youthful soldier in the Union army, by the name of Ira B. Tuttle, with four of his men, performed a feat of military daring, which equals the exploits of Morgan, or any of the famous raiders of the war. The small village of Villa Rica lies about twenty-seven miles south by west of Atlanta, and about ten miles south of Dallas; near it is another little village, not inappropriately called Dark Corner.

In this village of Villa Rica the rebel General had established a principal magazine of supplies. As the greater part of his force lay between that point and the enemy, he regarded the point as entirely safe, and had left no guard on the spot, but only a Lieutenant-Colonel, a Captain, and three issuing Sergeants, to deliver the subsistence stores to the army wagons as they came for them. Rebel camps were, in fact, all around the point, in front and in rear, not more than a mile distant. Tuttle and his four men, in their scouting adventures, had penetrated very near the place, and resolved on making a bold dash upon it, thus running an immense risk; while, on the other hand, they might inflict on the enemy a great loss, and make good their escape. Putting spurs to their horses, they rode directly up to the largest building, where fifty thousand bushels of corn and a large amount of bacon were stored. The officers and enlisted men at the magazine were taken wholly by surprise, not even having side arms. Tuttle made them mount their horses, while he and his men fired the buildings, and five wagons loaded with bacon for the army. As soon as the flames were well started, he ordered his five prisoners to ride on in front, while he with his four men rode behind, with hands on their pistol hilts.

As they rode away with their prisoners, the smoke of the burning storehouses had been seen at the rebel camp a mile distant, and men were seen rushing to save them, if possible. But it was too late. The material was highly combustible, the weather hot and dry, and water distant. While the astonished rebels were running towards the fire, in the vain hope of “saving their bacon,” Tuttle and his brave companions, who had the fear of Andersonville before their eyes, put spurs to their horses, and drove their five prisoners before them into the Union camp.

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THE PRIVATE SOLDIER.–

Under this head the Jackson Mississippi Crisis pays the following tribute to the private soldier:

Justice has never been done him. His virtuous merit and unobtrusive patriotism have never been justly estimated. We do not speak of the regular soldier, who makes the army his trade for twelve dollars per month. We do not include the coward, who skulks; nor the vulgarian, who can perpetrate acts of meanness; nor the laggard, who must be forced to fight for his home and country. These are not the subjects of our comment. We speak of the great body of citizen soldiery who constitute the provisional army of the Confederacy, and who, at the sound of a trumpet and drum, marched out with rifle or musket to fight–to repel their country’s invaders, or perish on that soil which their fathers bequeathed, with the glorious boon of civil liberty. These are the gallant men of whom we write, and these have saved the country; these have made a breastwork of their manly bosoms to shield the sacred precinct of altar-place and fire-side. Among these private soldiers are to be found men of culture, men of gentle training, men of intellect, men of social position, men of character at home, men endeared to a domestic circle of refinement and elegance, men of wealth, men who gave tone and character to the society in which they moved, and men who for conscience’ sake have made a living sacrifice of property, home, comfort, and are ready to add crimson life to the holy offering. Many of these, if they could have surrendered honor and a sense of independence, could have remained in possession of all these elegances and comforts. But they felt like the Roman who said, “Put honor in one hand and death in the other, and I will look on both indifferently.” Without rank, without title, without anticipated distinction, animated only by the highest and noblest sentiments which can influence our common nature, the private labors, and toils, and marches, and fights; endures hunger and thirst, and fatigue; through watchings, and weariness, and sleepless nights, and cheerless, laborious days, he holds up before him the one glorious prize–“Freedom to my country;” “Independence and my home!” If we can suppose the intervention of less worthy motive, the officer, and not the private, is the man whose merit must commingle such alloy. The officer may become renowned–the private never reckons upon that; the officer may live in history–the private looks to no such record; the officer may attract the public gaze–the private does not look for such recognition; the officer has a salary–the private only a monthly stipend, the amount of which he has been accustomed to pay to some field laborer on his rich domains; the officer may escape harm in battle by reason of distance–the private must face the storm of death; the officer moves on horseback–the private on foot; the officer carries a sword, the emblem of authority, and does not fight–the private carries his musket, and does all the fighting. The battle has been fought–the victory won; and Lee, or Longstreet, or others, have achieved a glorious success; but that success was attained by the private soldier, at the cost of patriot blood, of shattered bones, and torn and mangled muscle and nerves! We do not mean to under-estimate the officer, or disparage his courage, or his patriotism. We draw the parallel for another purpose, and that is, to show, if other than the highest human motive prompts the soldier to action. It is the officer, and not the private, who is not liable to feel its influence.

We have often felt pained and annoyed at the flippant reference to the privates, while the unreasoning speaker seemed to regard the officers as the prime and meritorious agents of all that is done. Why, in those ranks is an amount of intellect which would instruct and astonish a satesman. In those ranks the merit of every officer and every action is settled unappealably. In those ranks there is public virtue and capacity enough to construct a government, and administer its civil and military offices. The opinion of these men will guide the historians, and fix the merit of generals and statesmen. The opinion of these men will be, and ought to be, omnipotent with the people and government of the Confederacy. Heaven bless these brave, heroic men! Our heart warms to them. Our admiration of their devotion and heroism is without limit. Their devotion to principle amounts to moral sublimity. We feel their sufferings, and share their hopes, and desire to be identified in our day and generation with such a host of spirits, tried and true, who bend the knee to none but God, and render homage only to worth and merit.

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