g humanity. The Doctor told the Captain
that the lady was welcome, but that his wife was away from home.

Captain Parshall had kindly provided quarters for the husband who, as
he was about going, gazed cautiously around, and eyed the Doctor from
head to foot, then looked at the woman with an "affectionate" stare,
and, with a long-drawn sigh, exclaimed:

"Well, Doctor, I guess I'll risk her with you."

In about an hour the Captain was startled with the sudden appearance
of Doctor Williams, much excited, who begged that he would have that
woman taken away, right off, as she was a thief.

The Captain went over immediately, and interrogated the woman, but she
stoutly denied the charge. The Captain, however, noticed a very heavy
bust where a bust shouldn't be with so hatchet-faced a woman, and
asked her what she had in her bosom.

She replied, that was common with her "every grass;" but the Captain
"couldn't see it," and indelicately placed his masculine fingers
within the sacred precincts, and drew forth two children's dresses,
one from each side; finding she was fairly caught, she begged for
mercy; said she didn't know what "possessed her," and declared that
was all she had. The Captain told her he would have to hang her if she
didn't deliver up every thing. She became frightened, and then
commenced the peeling of petticoats, shawls, chemises, pillow-slips,
etc., much to the amusement and contempt of all honest people.

Suffice it to say, the woman, with her husband, was sent back to
Dixie, to feed upon corn-bread and water, as the Union people of this
neighborhood didn't wish to be contaminated by such trash.

The Doctor's wife has since returned. She told me the story, and
declares she won't leave the Doctor to keep house any more, as she
won't trust him alone.

TO THE THIRTEENTH OHIO.

By Martha M. THOMAS.

Our Fathers House is threatened, boys!
The Union, grand and free,
Has warmed an adder in its heart
That saps its great roof-tree.
We've sworn to hold it pure, boys--
A first love's holy shrine;
A home for all the homeless, boys,
For "auld lang syne."

Its foemen are our brothers, boys;
But still we must not falter;
Though dear to us those who offend,
They must die by lead or halter.
Our Father's House is ours in trust,
From Washington's own line;
The Union knows no Pleiad lost
For "auld lang syne."

The rafters of the old house, boys,
Must