, with glory or shame, as the
benefactors or the enemies of their kind. A rare opportunity is passing
before this nation. Who will seize upon it, and how? We shall see.

WAITING FOR NEWS!

The succeeding Poem, 'Waiting for News,' was written by a mother,
who says.

'If there is any power in truth, this poem should express what is
intended; for my own boy, but little more than fifteen, had been in
the battle at Culpepper, and I knew not if he were living or dead!
He was far too young to enter the army, but I could not resist his
earnest pleadings--for he is tall and manly, and I well know, were
_I_ in his place, I too would shoulder my knapsack and go!'

All honor to such mothers!--ED.

Waiting, O Father! a fond mother waiting,
Waiting _so_ anxious, the dark tide's abating!
Waiting all breathless, in agonized anguish,
Living by heart-throbs that spring up--then languish;
Catching each sound that comes back from the battle,
Dark shrieks and groans and the lonely death rattle,
Imaging visions of feverish thirsting--
Hearts in their utterest loneliness bursting!

Thinking of _him_, late the babe of her bosom,
Fair faced and blue eyed, love's tenderest blossom,
Dashing along 'mid the carnage around him,
Fearless as Mars 'mid the balls that surround him,
Changed, as by magic, from home's tender brother,
Lovingest son, both to father and mother--
Changed to a man, to a stern, noble soldier--
None in the field that is braver or bolder!
Writing: 'I'm proud of the name, dearest mother!
Craven is he who would hold any other
While our loved standard of freedom 's in danger,
May he forever be held as a stranger!'
Such are the words in his last noble letter!
What fifteen years that could write any better?
Now I am waiting to know if he 's wounded--
Waiting--to know how my fears must be bounded:
Closed his eyes _may_ be to sorrow or danger--
Dead he _may_ be in the land of the stranger!

God of the desolate--Rachel's Consoler!
Light of the universe--Nature's Controller!
Pity me, pity me! Send consolation!
Let not my heart feel this deep desolation!
He is _so_ young, and he loves me so truly--
Scourge me not, Father! so deep--so unduly!
Leave him! to lighten my life-load of sorrow!
Leave him to brighten the clouds of my morrow!
Leave him to love me when other lo