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Sunday we had looked forward to as a day of rest, but at eleven o'clock we were ordered to have an early dinner, as we must change our camping-ground for one two and a half miles nearer the river. We fell in at two o'clock, and, passing the advanced guard of Minnesota volunteers, descended from our table-land towards the river, and are now in advance of everything in this direction.

"The Minnesota regiment which is to support us is the same that acted so well at Bull's Run, was the last to leave the field, and in good order. We reached our final camp-grounds at four o'clock, and have now got our tents pitched and guard mounted, and hope to remain here a week or two, to "get up again on our drill, &c., which must have suffered somewhat from our late irregularities.

"The air of the tents feels close and uncomfortable, after having been accustomed to sleep in the open air. My next may be dated from the banks of the Potomac."

THE MARCH OF THE MUD-SILLS.

FROM the South, in stormy April, seen and dreaded from afar,
Rolling up with growing fury, burst the thunder-clouds of war;
And before their startling echoes in the hills have died away,
They are answered by a ringing shout from Massachusetts Bay.
Then the long-preparing vigor in a single moment warms,
As there sounds above the tumult an electric call to arms!
Southward move the stern battalions, forming fast on every side,
Close on one another's footsteps, in an overwhelming tide;
For the nation is in peril from the vipers in her breast,
And until their hate is baffled, there is little time for rest.
Massachusetts heads the column, and the others join her train,
From the farmers of Wisconsin to the lumbermen of Maine.
They are equal to the crisis; they have left behind their fears,
Though the state is weak with treason, and the weeks contend with years.
As their mighty chorus echoes through the Capitol and dome,
And their cannons seem to thunder, "Stand aside, the mud-sills come!"
Thus they hurl defiant answer to the taunting words of old,
When the mud-sills were derided, and the gentlemen extolled.

We had hoped that such a contest waited for another age, That the record of such baseness would defile a later page; But since you have thrust it on us, we will shape it as we can, Taking up the angry gauntlet in the name and aid of man.

We are turned from calmer labors; you are fretted from your sloth; • Let our arbiters, the nations, look and judge between us both; And, as here we stand contrasted, let it once for all be seen

What these words about our labor and our independence mean.

We were born of earnest parents; and from them have tried to learn, That the goods we deigned to covet it was no disgrace to earn :

We have learned the dear-bought lesson, which they brought across the sea, That though idleness is pleasant, it is sweeter to be free!

Once there was a time of danger; you did not despise us then;

For you gave a noble leader and we furnished him with men.

Then for you we turned to battle, put our strength and courage forth, Perilled in the Carolinas all we rescued in the North.

As we helped you, so we loved you; for we could not then believe

That we only love while giving, only hate when we receive.

We have filled the land with railroads, sent our vessels through the seas,
Perilled life and comfort freely to contribute to your ease.

We have cut away the forests, filled the fertile plains with life,
Conquered man and banished cougar in continued years of strife,
Opened to you all the region by our toil and treasure won;
We have given, you have taken, at the rate of three to one.
We have given trade an impulse; we have fostered every art;

In the progress of the country we have more than borne our part;

We have furnished you with fabrics, from machinery to brooms,

We have clothed you with the products of our workshops and our looms;

And the toils and institutions of the mud-sills you deride

Are the source of all your comforts and the cause of all your pride.
Can you honestly deride us while you keep our cotton-gin,
While you use our manufactures, from an engine to a pin ?

And the taunting name of Mud-sill; we adopt it here to-day.
We are not too weak and haughty to confess that we are clay.
We will make our claim to title the nobility of toil;
And, like men of ancient Athens, we are children of the soil.
Give us honesty for honor; we have credit unalloyed

By the perjury of statesmen and the robberies of Floyd.
On our own enduring shoulders we will take this weight of woe.
Though we love our fathers' honor, that will not ward off the blow.
Then let others build their glory on the actions of the past,
And in a descending series show themselves the least and last;
While the memories that cluster round each venerated name
Stamp the faults of base descendants with a deeper brand of shame;

While the same heroic daring that they glory to recall

Makes the follies of the present seem sarcastically small.

You have turned from many channels, where it calmly rolled before, Industry's resistless torrent to the foaming sea of war.

Commerce felt your feeble pressure, and is pouring down a host

From a quieter employment to beleaguer all your coast.

When you check your sales of cotton, till the mighty wheels are still,
Till the spindles cease their whirling in the halls of every mill,
There is chance for will and courage in the heart of every town,
Regiments spring into being as the cotton-mills shut down.
Blacksmiths turn their idle muscles to the steel that now is hot;
Farmers seek another harvest, artisans a nobler lot.

In the strength of quiet purpose, all your blows we counted small,
Till you struck the common parent and protector of us all.

Then you roused a mighty people, and from out that solemn hush

Burst a tempest such as gathers only once, and then to crush.
There is something more than human keeping heart and purpose warm,
Something strikes besides the present, in the freeman's lifted arm.
In us breathes the soul of Labor, and our triumph was foretold
When the cry went up to Heaven in the darker days of old;
When the guilds of German workmen firmly into battle went,
And the blood of prouder fathers quailed before the men of Ghent ;
When the burghers of the cities, for their merchandise and wine,
Formed a league against the nobles and the robbers of the Rhine.
We espouse their holy quarrel, cleave the waves in which they sank,
Consecrate to-day the chalice whence in agony they drank.

Tell us not of our reverses; for to us they seem to be

But as irritable pebbles flung against a raging sea;

And as ocean waves sweep backward to return with grander swell,
So the tide of human freedom shall sweep over these as well;
Till the nations, listening vainly for a vaunting that is gone,
Hear alone the rising chorus of the Mud-sills marching on;
Till the class that built the nation, from their energy and skill,
Shall be free to mould its progress by the edict of their will.

DOGMATIC ANALOGY.

STRANGE difficulties have been raised by some concerning personal identity, or the sameness of living agents, implied in the notion of a dog's existing now and hereafter. But let us consider what the analogy of nature suggests, and whether it be not probable that he may survive this change, and exist in a future state of life and perception. From his being born into the world in the helpless, imperfect state of a puppy, and from thence blooming forth a mature dog, we may certainly found a presumption that he is destined to a future life, in which

No flea shall be his pest,

No boy shall shout kiyi,

But he shall be at rest.

Now if it would be in a manner certain that he would survive death, provided it were certain that death would not be his destruction, it must be highly probable that he will survive it, if we have no ground for thinking that he will not. There can be no ground for thinking that death will be his destruction; for is it not certain that man never dies, and are we not all dogs, some sad dogs, to be sure, and some gay dogs, but still all dogs? One of the highest of the former dignitaries of Venice belonged to the canine species. Who has not heard of the Dog of Venice? Nature furnishes us with another analogy in proof of this assertion. The well-known dogma that the cat has nine lives must certainly lead us to suppose that the dog, a far superior animal, may surely have two, for, says Virgil, "canibus catulos similes," dogs and cats are just alike.

Innumerable instances might be adduced to prove that quickness of perception is one of the essential characteristics of the canine species. It is well known that dogs are exceedingly fond of students, wags, and all talented persons. That they are thought to appreciate much of ordinary conversation is shown by the words

"I am Sir Oracle;

And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark."

The greatest of Latin poets, Virgil himself, in his classification of subjects, says in the first line of the Æneid that he shall tell

"Arma virumque cano,”

"Of men and arms and dogs"; and, evidently considering the last

mentioned as the most important, and pluming himself upon his originality, goes on to say,

"And I am the first man of Troy that has sung about their litters"; thus descending even to particulars in his enumeration. It may seem to some, on first thoughts, that the translation "their litters" is too free; but surely no classical mind can for an instant doubt that, had it not been for the exquisite purity of Virgil's taste in regard to metre, he would infallibly have inserted before "Littora" the word "puppium." Horace too, evidently referring to the Scotch terrier, speaks of

"Prata canis albicant pruinis,”.

"Fields white with snowy dogs." Shakespeare also shows his belief in the future life of dogs, by saying,

"O be thou damned, inexorable dog!"

plainly evincing his assurance of the existence of a hotter world, at all events, for the canine race.

These quotations sufficiently testify to the high esteem in which this race of animals is held by man, and point with some degree of certainty to their future life, as they are here invested with such high powers that it seems impossible that they should not see another world. But irrefragable testimony is furnished by Horace when he speaks of

and this too, "ipsis in faucibus Orci"; which proves two points, namely, that the dog's second existence has been attested by an eyewitness, and that death does not destroy or suspend his power of flexion (caudal) as exercised in this world, although the word "leniter" seems to imply that that power is in some degree weakened. Virgil also refers to the same individual in the same peculiar circum

stances.

Again, it is as easy to conceive that a dog may exist out of his body as in it. Why is it the invariable tendency of man, on viewing a certain elongated and greasy condiment, having the form of an ellipsoid of very great eccentricity, to whistle and snap his fingers, if he be not firmly persuaded of this fact? We see by experience that dogs may lose their limbs, and even the greatest part of their bodies, and yet remain the same living agents; for it is an every-day occur