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21. the widow of Worcester County, (Edwards' Ferry.) by S. W. Last spring, when Frank had fed the ploughed and harrowed ground with seed, A fearful cry tore by us with the South wind's winged speed; But we hoped it was a nightmare, till the news was brought from town, That the horde of Charleston traitor-knaves had shot our banner down. In my bitter grief and anguish keen, I felt the ancient ire Of Bunker Hill and Lexington course through my veins like fire, Till, as lightnings cease when breaks the dark cloud's heart upon the land, I wept when, on my thin gray locks, I felt Frank's manly hand, And saw my grandsire's musket gleam within his clenched grip, And read the clear and stern gray eye that chid the quivering lip; Read that the eye would smile no more until it saw the foe, Whilst the lips were loth to shape the words, “Dear mother, I must go.” So I sealed them with a kiss, dried up my tears, and filled his sack, And, at dawn, upon his home my only darling turned his back. As
A patriotic family.--David Norton, of Candia, N. H., has all his sons-William C., David T., Richard E., and Henry C.--in the Federal army. Mr. Norton himself served in the war of 1812, and was on duty at Marblehead when the ship Constitution was chased into port by two British seventy-four gun ships. His father, Mr. Simon Norton, who was born at Chester, N. H., 1760, enlisted when fifteen years of age, and served throughout the Revolutionary War. He was in the battles at Bunker's Hill and at Bennington, and went South under General Washington. In 1775 and 1776 he was in Breed's regiment, under Capt. Emerson, of Candia. Henry C., the youngest son, seventeen years old, was in the battle of Bull Run under Colonel Marston, of the New Hampshire Second, and was there wounded by a rifle ball. The ball tore away his hat band, and, glancing along the skull several inches, lodged there and was not extracted till he reached Washington, he walking the whole distance. The next morning th
us rudely chasina The pompous ambassador, C. S. A. Mason! Ah, the proud Minister Cometh to grief; With prospects so brilliant, How wonderful brief His life diplomatic-- All smoothly it runs, Till over his pathway It bloweth great guns! A sorry denouement This, brave F. F. V.; Thy fondest hopes blasted, Thy plans all at sea! You dreamed not of capture, While with Johnny Bull; You thought if we tried it, We'd have our hands full! But when Uncle Samuel Appeared on your track, And gave you his thunder, To which you knocked under, O! is it a wonder You were taken aback? O! poor Master Mason, There are sermons in stones-- Don't they speak to you yonder In eloquent tones? Howe'er mortar-fying To “go to the wall,” We think we've discovered Your Forte after all! We send you to Warren, Your station to fill, As Minister Foreign Nigh old Bunker Hill! You always was warrina In public, they say-- We hope you'll keep quiet Where Dimmick has sway. Williamsburgh, 1861. --Brooklyn Times, Dec