Noble Sentiments from a Northern lady.
--A lady in
Iowa writes to her brother, a soldier in the Confederate army at
Mobile, as follows:
Oh, how I long for the day to arrive when hostilities will cease, and the Southern Confederacy will be crowned with the glorious wreath of victory, having achieved their independence and secured themselves from the
Yankee tyrants ! I play fervently that the
South may succeed, and I know they will, for God is with them, and they roust succeed.
If I were in the
South I would make clothes for the soldiers.
I wish I were near you, for I know I could aid in making you comfortable.
It is need less for me to say to you to be cheerful amid all the privations and hardships you have to undergo; for a knowledge of the holiness of the cause in which you are engaged is sufficient to silence the cry of complaint or dissatisfaction.
The South's all is at stake ! Never — never give up to be slaves of the
Northern despots.
My heart throbs in anxious expectations of the happy results of this spring's campaign.
Victory must be yours ! The noble soldiers of the
South cannot be permitted by an almighty merciful and just God to spill their blood much longer, fighting with the worthless scum of the
North.
How many hearts the hateful Abolitionists have made to bleed ! I cannot bear to look at one of them, much less to speak to them.
A call was made through the papers for the
Catholic ladies to meet at one of the public school houses to adopt measures to collect means and take tables at the
Sanitary Fair; but, thank God, only seven Catholic ladies in D — attended it. three cheers for the
Catholic ladies of D — True to principle, to justice, and the
Constitution framed by the wisest and best of men. If the in dies of D — could wield the governing sceptre, peace would soon smile upon the land now desecrated by the most unholy war.
I do love to hear you speak so hopefully and sanguine of success; but why should any one feel or speak otherwise ? I feel so, too, and if I were a man I would be at your side, battling for the homes, the firesides, and the sitars of the
South--above all, for dear, sacred liberty.
