Southern war News.
arrest of Lincoln spies in New Orleans — movements of Mississippi troops — camp life in Floyd's brigade — an Indian speech, &c., &Our Southern exchanges received yesterday bring us the following items:
Movements of Mississippi troops.
The Mississippian, of the 11th, says: ‘ We learn from a private source that Gen. Alcorn, who left Inka in command of two Mississippi regiments, is now encamped near Hopkinsville, Kentucky, and is in command of all the forces south of Green river and north of Cumberland. He had a very arduous and fatiguing march, exposed to much hardship, without baggage, and frequently with scanty supplies of food. His command, however, keep well, and bear their privations as well as could be expected. While on the march his picket-guard was fired into from an ambuscade, and one man killed and another badly wounded. He killed two of the enemy and took two prisoners. It is reported that he has been ordered to take and hold the locks on Green river, and as the enemy was in possession of them with a force about equal to Gen. Alcorn's, we may soon expect an engagement in that quarter. Those who know Gen. Alcorn cannot doubt the result. ’Camp life in Floyd's brigade.
The correspondent of the Lynchburg Republican writes, recently, the following a sketch: ‘ The roads in these mountains are terrible — to wagon almost impassable — occasioned by the drenching rains which we have about every other day. All our movements, therefore, are obliged to be very slow. It took us a day and a half to march from the Bluffs to this place. We encamped on Monday night six miles distant, and as our wagons did not get up with us until late, we had to turn our horses loose to graze, and throwing a few arms full of bay into an old deserted shed by the way-side, for our beds, and taking our blankets for covering, the General and his staff spent the night supperless. We had marching orders for five in the morning, and left without breakfast, though I believe the most of our men were more fortunate. General Floyd makes it a rule never to fare better than his men, and by doing so gains their undivided confidence and affection, and iuures them to all the hardships of the service. Though he may pitch his headquarters by a palace, he invariably makes his quarters in his tent. When he restricts the baggage of his men, he does the same with himself and all his officers. When we left the Bluffs he made them all leave their trunks, and he did the same himself. The order did not incommode me in the least, as I had already lost mine, and had nothing to do but amuse myself at the evident reluctance with which my companions parted with this luxury. We have had several heavy frosts, and the forests already begin to put on the yellow brown of autumn. The morning and evening cold tell us that we shall ere long have to close active military operations and go into winter quarters. We hope to do this, however, in the Valley of the Kanawha. ’Speech of a Choctaw brave.
The following speech was delivered at Fort Washita, by a Choctaw brave to his warriors, and is reported in the Clarkesville Standard, of a recent date: ‘ The Indians were expected in at 10 o'clock, and about that time they came in, following their drum, and an old man with a drawn sword, who delivered the speech below. The war dance was in the square — the warriors being stripped to their fighting costume.--There were two companies of them, and they advanced into the fort with heads erect, and truly martial bearing, beneath their colors (a Confederate flag) with nine white stars in a circle, surrounding one in red with a white border some what larger than the others. In the rear of the companies were about twenty Indian women. The color staff being placed in the ground, the warriors slowly encircled around it, and upon a given signal from the Captain they all stood still and silent, while the old man before mentioned drew his sword, and moving slowly around in the circle, thus addressed them: "Warriors of the Choctaw and Chickasaw nations! look around you, and what do you see? You see men in every garb, armed and equipped for war. A strange sight for my young men. Who are these men? Your brothers — the men of the South--men who have come from the land of sunshine across Red river — whose star is in the centre of your flag, and who are in our hearts as their star is in our colors — men, and the sons of men, who dyed that star in the blood of their brave; and with whom you, my warriors, are here to share the tolls, dangers, and the glory of war — men who will lay down their lives in a just cause, and who, as yet, have never turned their backs to an enemy. You, men and warriors, must emulate their glorious deeds.--(Deafening shouts by the warriors.) Let your enemies feel the edges of your knives. (Ugh, ugh!) Let not your war-path be through your own green cornfields, but let your knives drink the life-blood of your enemies in their own towns and villages, side by side with your white brothers, who are fighting for their rights, their own property, and for the protection of the homes of their wives and children. "Warriors! we have the same feelings, we have the same description of property; and need, I tell you to look around and see the women and maidens of your race, who are assembled to see the warriors in their paint? Their hands have armed you for the fray, and their hearts will be with you in the field of death." The warriors here broke forth into a dance, keeping time to the beating of the drum, and uttering the scalp halloo, fired off their guns and pistols, the women at the same time moving closer to the circle, when an elderly matron, accompanied by the others, in a low, plaintive voice, commenced a song, in which they were reminded of their mothers and the homes they had played around when they were babes; and how their mothers and sisters had attended their footsteps when they were too young to follow their fathers to hunt the buffalo; and now they had grown to be men, their sisters were comparatively weak, their mothers had grown old, and the bright sun had changed their raven locks to grey; and now should their mothers and sisters, knowing they needed protection, ask it of strangers? or should their own young men, who have the right, keep the Northern men from polluting their soil? The excitement here was intense. The warriors sprang into the air with shouts of defiance, yelling and whooping, and the women ran into the circle through an opening made for the purpose, and dancing around the colors, continued their song, but in a more animated strain, in which an allusion, was made to the deeds of their forefathers, etc. The old veteran again came forward and asked a question, which was not understood by me, but which they answered by ‘"ugh, ugh!"’ and then addressed them again. "Where are the men who fought your battles in former years, who were a terror to their enemies? (A mournful wall.) They have passed from our sight, and gone to the happy land, but their blood flows through the veins of the living. Where are the warriors of their blood? (Here! here!) This is the first time some of you have danced in the warrior's line; let not your hearts fail nor your arms grow weak, as your country may need every blow." It was the first opportunity your correspondent has ever had to witness the novel ceremonies of an Indian war dance, and no one can properly appreciate the scene unless he were present, and saw the defiant and deter mined expression indicated by the gestures and general appearance of the men. ’A Cartel Chivalrously adopted.
We find the following card in the New Orleans Crescent. It would seem that Commander Merriman, of the blockading steamer Massachusetts, lying off New Orleans, had sent a challenge to Col. Allen, of the Confederate army. From the annexed card of Col. Allen, it does not appear that the proposed fight is to determine anything beyond the individual prowess of the combatants, and may result in the death of two brave men, and nothing more. It this feat of ‘"chivalry"’ were designed to spare the effusion of blood, by staking the late of large bodies of men, (by which we mean the ordinary issue of pitched battles,) there would be some sense in it. But, as it is, we perceive in it nothing but the worst features of the miscalled ‘"code of honor,"’ with out the usual extenuating plea of personal in jury. In this case we see two men, in the absence of all malice, go out to shoot each other down, for the mere fun of the thing! It is not a whit behind the scenes of barbarism that characterized other ages when gladiators were ‘"butchered to make a Roman holiday."’ For the credit of our cause; for the sake of civilization and humanity, in this age of which we boast, let this practice be immediately discountenanced in our armies. We subjoin Col. Allen's card: Camp Relief, Mississippi City, October 4th, 1861.
Frank B. Merriman, U. S. N., steamer Massachusetts: Dear Sir:
--The card which you were so kind as to send me with your compliments, has not been duly received, but has been published in the New Orleans Picayune.
Believing that your motives are dictated by the highest sense of honor, and that it is your wish to revive in some measure the good old days of chivalry, and at the same time throw a little romance into the long and tedious blockade so well and faithfully kept up by your good ships, I accept the challenge in the true knightly manner in which it was sent, and will most cheerfully give you a meeting.
I will meet you on Cat Island, opposite this place, any day you may suggest, each party accompanied by two seconds; no other person to be present; the weapons to be double-barreled shot guns, loaded with ball; to fire in the usual manner.
You and I, my dear sir, belong to a race that acknowledge no superior in personal courage.
If, there- fore, these terms do not please, I beg you to arrange them to suit yourself.
We have now a good opportunity for a nice private fight of our own. Let us not lose this golden opportunity.
In the name of chivalry, at whose shrine every officer of the army and navy is presumed to worship — in the name of the past triumphs of our once great and glorious country, let us have the meeting.
Frank B. Merriman, U. S. N., steamer Massachusetts: Dear Sir:
