Oh, for a man with godlike heart and brain!
A god in stature, with a god's great will.
And fitted to the time, that not in vain
Be all the blood we're spilt and yet must spill.

Oh, brothers! friends! shake off the Circean spell!
Rouse to the dangers of impending fate!
Grasp your keen swords, and all may yet be well--
More gain, more pelf, and it will be, too late!

Charleston Mercury [1864].

[1] The country-seat of R. Barnwell Rhett.

[2] The homestead of Jas. H. Hammond.

[3] The homestead of W. Gilmore Simms (destroyed by Sherman's army.)




Our Departed Comrades.

By J. Marion Shirer.



I am sitting alone by a fire
That glimmers on Sugar Loaf's height,