Soldiers' record, 1870-06-04

              f ^
ONE FLAG, ONE LAND, ONE EE ART, ONE HAND, ONE NATION, EVERMORE!
YOL. II. HARTFORD, OON^f., SATURDAY, JUNE 4, 1870. ^^O. 48.
ours at |)oiuc.
Tlic i'ollowinif capital 8on)^ was written at,Ciiinp
Ford, IVxiiH, Marc.li lOtli, I8G4, hy tlio soldier po-et,
Col. A. J. 11. Dngiimio, tlieii a prisoner iifc that
place. It, was written in the "Old tlao-," the Union
])nper published among the prisoners l»ut was not
lithographed snbse(ineutl.y with the rest of the
paper, on account of the extreme lineness of the
writing.
W A R SONG.
"GULF OF MKXICO."
Air :—Bonnj/ Havens, 0 !
Wo parted from onr sweet-hearts with a kiss up-on
each month
To join the expedition that was marching on the
South;
Every eye wa.s dim with sorrow, and our hearts
were full of pride,
For the Old Flag waved above us, and a sword
was by each side. .
f Through the land of Dixie, 0 ! Thro'
p, the laud of Dixie, 0 ;
OHOKUS. ^ expedition to the Gulf
[ of Mexico.
There were men from jNlassachusetts—there were
noble souls from Maine,
And New Haiupslure .sent her soldier boys to
swell the martial train ;
From Connecticut's green valleys, and Rhode Is-land's
silver bays.
Marching onward came these gallant hands the
Union Flag to raise. Chorus.
renn.sylvania sent her legions and they did not
"make her wait,
And we joined the gaUant Buckeyes in the old
Ohio State;
And the brave Kentucky hunters buckled on
their arnu)r bright.
For the ohl Hag shone before them with its stars
of silver light. Chorus.
Whore Alissouri rolls her waters to the Missi-ssip-pi's
banks,
Came the vuliaiit sons of liberty to swell our
niiuching ranks.
And wo called the friends of Freedom, who had
never bowed the knee.
From the jjlains of Indiana and the woods of Ten-nessee.
Chorus.
Then we heard the tread of soldiers marching on
to join <uir van,
From the lllinoisian prairies, and the wilds of
jMichigan ;
And from Iowa's dark forests, and from Kansas'
border tracts.
Came the tramp of bold hack-woodsmen, with
their ritles on their backs. Chorui.
Oh ! ye saw our banners Hashing, and ye heard
our cannon roar.
When we swept the rebel armies from Port Hud-son's
castle shore;
And ye might have seen our gunboats, and our
pickets spread their mesh,
From the black Atchafalyu to the green and gras-sy
Teclie. Chorus.
0 ! •we I'ought and bled like heroes, and wo trod
like .soldier men.
Marching up and down, and in and out, and round
about ag iiu.
And the way we burned or powder, no report can
ever tell,
For whene'er we saw a rebel lioad, we flred at it a
shell. Chorus.
O ! Avo wanted not variety, or ever changing
scenes,
For whene'er wo gained a battle we went back to
New Orleanis;
And when we caught our loyal ilies, all fast in
Union webs,
Wo straightway did evacuate and leave them to
the rebs." Chorus
But our armies held the river and our navies
lield the main.
And onr gun-boats were at Galveston beside the
liai riot Lane,
And to give our troops a furlough, and explore
the Texan clime.
On one New Year's tlay they landed luu-e, and
went back—nary time ! Chorus.
Then at Sabine Pass, one pleasant day when all
the- sky was bright.
It suddenly got clouded, and we lo.st our ' MOHN-iNC;
LKiirr."
But wo still fought on by moonlight, and beneath
the Flag of Stars,
Till at last "Diana's" rays went out behind tho
rebel bars! Chorus.
Tlien we tried to light tho darkness by a BKAZIKU
lilled with lire,
But the rebels came and overturned our Brashler
In tlie mire.
All was madness then around us, with no pros-pect
of relief.
For the rebels cooked our mutton wluni we lost
onr liAYOu Bkkf. Chorus
'Twas a hard road that wo traveled, but we swal-lowed
down our dose.
And thro' Texas soujo went southward to a pris-on
house most Giiocis.
And thro' Texas some went northward, and they
nuide their bed and board,
Ou the cold ground and corn dodger—'twas tho
best they could af-Fui(0. Chorus.
To the Brigadiers and Gun-boats wo return our
heartfelt thanks,
And wo wish we had some corn-dodger to send to
General Banks. Chorus.
0 ! long live the Federal Congress, and long live
old Ahra-ham,
And <iiay they all got wide-awake to find out every
sham.
And when thoy mako a General, let's hoi)e he's
not an ass.
And when thoy send out gunboats lot them shun
the Sabine Pass. Chorus.
Now God bless our wives and sweet-hearts, and
preserve them from all harms.
Ami restore us weary prisoners to reet within
their arms ;
For we've had our share of glory, and you must
not think It strange,
If we'd yield our claims to Texas soil f(n"justa
fair—EXCHANGE , Chorus.
tempest of the black Dccomber night—
he fire was glowing cheerily in the well-filled
grate, and the dinner table all in a
glitter with cut glass, rare china and pol-ished
silver, was only waiting tor the pre-sence
of Mr. Audley.
"What can it be that detains pupa ?"
said Mrs. Audley, a fair handsome mat
-on of abont thirty, as she glanced at the
dial of a liny enameled watch. "Six
o'clocK and he does not make his appeai-
Wo have fought and we've been gobbleil by the
tierce guerrlll i iiordos,
We have drank our fill of glory, and have lost our
bran new swords,
TWENTY-FIVE CENTS.
"Please, sir, will you buy mv chest
nuts ?"
"Chestnuts ! No!"' returned Ralph
Moore, looking carelessly down on the
upturned face, whose large brown eyes,
shadowed by tangled curls of flaxen hair,
were appealing so pitifully to his own.
"What do 1 want with chestnuts ?"
"But, please, sir, buy 'em," pleaded
ihe little one, reassured by the rough
kindness of his tone. "Nobody seems to
care for them, and—and—"
Slie fairly burst into tears, and Moore,
whb had been on tho point of brualiing
Carelessly past her, stopped instinctively.
"Are you very much in want, of the
money T'
"Indeed, sir, we are," sobbed the child;
motlier sent me out, and—"
"Nay, little one, don't cry in such
heart-broken way," said Ralph, smooth-ing
her hair down with careless gentle-ness.
"I don't want your chestnuts, but here's
a quarter for you, if that will do you ai.y
good."
He did not stay to hear the delighted
incoherent thanks the child p>iured out
through a rainbow of smiles and tears,
but strode on his way, muttering between
his teeth :
"'1 hat cuts off my supply of cigars foi
the next twenty-four hours. "I don't care
though ; the brown-eyed object really did
cry as if she hadn't a friend in the world.
Hang it! 1 wish 1 was rich enough to help
every poor creature out of the slough of
despoiid !"
While Ralph Moore was indulging in
these very natural reflections, tho dark
eyed little damsel whom he had comforted
was dashing down the street with quick
clastic footsteps, utterly regardless of tho
basket of unsold nuts that still dangled up-on
her arm. Down an obscure lane she
darted, between tall ruinous rows of
houses, and up a narrow wooden stair
Ciisci to a room where a pale, neat looking
woman witlj large brown eyes, like her
own, was sewing as busily as if the breath
of life depended upon every stitch, anc
two little ones were contentedly playing
in the sutishinc chat teuiporarily supplied
tho place of the absent (ire.
"Mary ! back already 'i Surely you
have not sold your chestnuts so soon ?
"Oh, mother ! mother ! see." ejaculatet
the breathless child, "a geutleman gave
me a whole quarter. Only think, mother
a whole quarter !"
If Ralph Moore could only have seen
the rapture which his tiny silver gift
dill'useil around it in the poor svidow's
poverty-stricken home, he would have
grudged still less the temporary privation
of cigars to which his generosity had sub
jected him.
Years came and went. The little chest
nut girl passed as entirely out of Ralph
Moore's memory as if her pleading eyes
had never touched the soft s|)Ot in his
heart, but Mary Leo never forgot the
stranger who had given her tho silver
piece.
ance I"
'There's a man with him in the study,
mamma—come on business," said Rol}ert
Audley, a pretty boy, eleven years old,
who was reading by the fire,
'I'll call him again," said Mrs. Audley,
stepping to the door.
"But, as she opened it, the brilliant
gaslight fell full on the face of an humble
looking man in worn and threadbare gar-ments,
who was leaving the house, while
her husband stood in the doorway of his
study, apparently lelieved to be rid of
his visitor.
^'Charles," said Mrs. Andley, whose
cheek had paled and flushed, "who is that
tnan, wnd what does he want ?"
"His name is Moore, love, I believe,
and he came to see if I Avould bestow up-on
him that vacant messengership in the
bank."
"And will you ?"
"I don't know, Mary, I must think a-bout
it."
"Charles, give him the situation."
"Why, my love ?"
"Because I ask it of you as a favor, and
you have said a thousand times you woidd
never deny me anything."
"And 1 wdll keep my word, Mary,"
said the lover husband, with an aftVction-ate
kiss. "I'll write t,lie fellow ti note
this very evening. 1 believe I've got liis
addres.s somewhere about me."
An hour or two later when Bobbie and
Frank and Eugene ^yere snugly tucked
u)) in bed in the spacious nursery above
stairs, Mrs. Audley told her husband
why she was interested in the late of a
mail whose face she had not seen for
twenty years.
"That's right, my little Avife," rejilied
her husband, folding her fondly to his
b]-easi, wheu the simple tale was conclu-ded,
"never forget one who lias been
kind to you in the days wheu you needed
kindn* ess m#o st." # * *
Ralph Moore was sitting in his poor
lodgings beside his ailing wife's sick-bed,
wiicn a liveried servant brought a
note from the rich and prosperous bank
director, Charles Audley.
"Good news, Bertha !" he exclaimed,
as he read the brief words. "We shall
not starve—Mr. yvudley promises me the
vacant situation."
"You have (lrop])ed something from
theuote, Ralph," said Mrs. Moore, imint-ing
to a. slii) of paper that lay ou the lioor.
Moore stoo])ed to recovehe ; . ra y.
It was a fifty dollar bill neatly folded in
a piece of paper, on which was written :
"In grateful remembrance of the silver
quarter that a kind strangiu- bestowed
uii a little chestnut girl over twenty
years ago."
Kali)h Moore liad thrown his morsel of
bread on the wate-rs, and after many days
it had returned to him.
S L A N D E R .
'Twas but a breath—
And yet a woman's fair name wilted.
And friends oMce warm were cold ami stilted ;
And life was worse than death.
One venomed word,
Ttiat struck its cowar<l, poisoned blow
In craven whispers, hushed and low.
And yet the wide world heard.
'Twas but one whispered—one—-
That nmttered low, for very shame,
That thing the slanderer dare Jiot name.
And yet its work was done.
A hint .so .slight,
And yet so mighty in Its power,
A hunnin soul in one short hour,
Lies crushed beneath its blight.
"THE BOYS' ROOM."
A friend of mine recently took mo
through her children's apartments. First,
we were shown the "girls' room," a plea-sant
back chamber in the up right part of
the house. A neat rag carpet covered
the fliooi", the beds were furnished with
pretty patch-work quilts, while wash-stand,
mirror, and chair.s completed the
furniture. It locked quite attractive,
though vases of flowers and pictures
would have increased its attiactivcness.
Then my friend led me through the
"boys' room," which was in the wing.
"Quite a contrast," was my mental com-ment,
as we entered the low uncarpeted
apartment—no mirror, no bathing conveni-ences,
nothing save two bedsj faded quilts,
unpresentable elsewhere, and one chair
for three boys.
And this is not a solitary exceptional
case. Almost universally among farmers
<[itideed, among families generally), little"
or nothing is done to render boys' rooms
pleasant and attractive to them. True,
they spend a few waking hours there, but
even in going in and out of a pleasunt and
attractive room every day has a great io-fluence
upon the character. Boys are
more careful not to litter a carpet than a
floor; therefore a carpet will tenci to cul-tivate
in them order and neatness. They
will have more self-respect, and be more
respectful to others, if they come down in
the morning with hair neatly brushed and
clean teeth, than with sleepy, unwashed
eyes, and hair a la porcupine; therefore,
furnish their rooms with toilet appliances.
Mothers, buy some pri.tty prints to hang
in their room; give thein a table with a
neat cover, at least a chair for each, and
in summer it will be a trifling trouble to
cut a fresh glass of flowers every two or
three days. They may scarcely seem to
notice these things, but they have their
influence.
Almost imperceptibly the surroundings
modify the character. I doubt not the
influence from early 3'ears to maturity of
a pleasant room with a few vvell-choseu
books and pictui es would bo more bene-ficialvvould
tend more to ennoble both in-tellect
and moral nature, than a year or
two of "schooli'ig" at an academy which
farmers are generally ambitious to give
their sons. People think too little of the
daily and hourly education of children.
The house, the flower garden, the yard,
the family paper, the intimate friend, all
are teachers , take care, mothers, that
the teachers be pure, true, ennobling.
Jitirul Nfiw Yorker.
The crimson window curtains we.-e
closely drawn to shut out the storm and
BE FIKM.—Tho winds and the waves
may beat against the rock planted in a
tro(d)led sea, but it remains unmoved.
Be you like that rock, young man. Vice
may entice, and the song and the cup
may invite. Beware—stand firmly at
your post. Let your principles shine forth
unobscured. There is glory in the thought
that you have resisted temptation and con-quered.
Your bright examphj will be to
the world what ihe lighthouse is to tlie
mariner upon a lee shore ; it will guide
hundreds to the port of virtue and safety.
Till'] man at the head of the house can
mar the pleasure of the household, but he
cannot mako it. That nuist rest with the
woman, and is her greatest privilege.
Tho annual meeting of the Connecticut
Soldiers' Orphan Home will bo held at
the New Haven Hotel ou Wednesday,
Juno 1st, at 10 a. m.
The clay model of tho equestrian statue
of Cen. Lyon, which is to be placed in
Lafayette Park in St. Louis, has been
completed by the sculptor, Wilson Mac-
Donald of New York. The statue, when
finally cast, will bo colossal in size, and
will represent the Geuerai as ho appear-ed
ju-;t before he was shot at the battle
of Wilson's Creek, seated on his horse
and waving his hat. On the pedestal are
tho words, "1 will lead you," \xhich ho is
said to have used at that time, wheu load-ug
the Second Kansas.