Miss. "Just after your general takes the next 'big scare,' which will be in ten days from this time."

Daylight having broken, and the army having crossed the river, the conversation I have given terminated.

A TOUCHING INCIDENT.'

AN officer, just returned from the south-west, relates a touching incident of the loyalty and tendency of many of the inhabitants of that nominally secesh land. After the battle of Bean Station, the rebels were guilty of all manner of indignity toward the slain. They stripped their bodies, and shot persons who came near the battle-field to show any attention to the dead. The body of a drummer boy was left naked and exposed. Near by, in an humble house, were two little girls, the eldest but sixteen, who resolved to give the boy a decent burial. They took the night for their task. With hammer and nails in hand, and boards on their shoulders, they sought the place where the body of the dead drummer boy lay. From their own scanty wardrobe, they clothed the body for the grave. With their own hands they made a rude coffin, in which they reverently put the dead boy. They dug the grave and lowered the body into it and covered it over. The noise of the hammering brought some of the rebels to the spot. Not a word was spoken, no one interfered, and when the sacred rites of the burial were performed, all separated, and the little drummer boy sleeps undisturbed in his grave on the battle-field. Such tenderness and heroism deserve to run along the line of coming generations with the story of the woman who broke the alabaster box on the feet of the Savior, and with her who of her penury cast her two mites into the treasury.

JENNY WADE, THE HEROINE OF GETTYSBURG.

THE Country has already heard of John Burns, the hero of Gettysburg-of how the old man sallied forth a host within himself, "to fight on his own hook," and how he fell wounded after having delivered many shots from his trusty rifle into the faces and the hearts of his country's foes. John Burns' name is already recorded among the immortal, to live there while American valor and patriotism have an admirer and emulator. But there was a heroine as well as hero of Gettysburg. The old man hero, Burns, still lives-the heroine, sweet Jenny Wade, perished in the din of that awful fray, and she now sleeps where the flowers once bloomed, and the perfumed-laden air wafted lovingly over Cemetery Hill.

Before the battle, and while the national hosts were awaiting the assaults of the traitor foe, Jenny Wade was busily engaged in baking bread for the national troops. She occupied a house in range of the guns of both armies, and the rebels had sternly ordered her to leave the premises, but this she as sternly refused to do. While she was busily engaged in her patriotic work, a minie ball pierced her pure heart, and she fell a holy sacrifice in her country's cause. Almost at the same time a rebel officer of high rank fell near where Jenny Wade had perished. The rebels at once proceeded to prepare a coffin for their fallen leader, but about the time that was finished the surging of the conflict changed the position of the armies, and Jenny Wade's body was placed in the coffin designed for her country's enemy; thus the heroine of Gettysburg was buried. The incidents of the hero and the heroine of Gettysburg are beautifully touching, noble and sublime.

Old John Burns was the only man of Gettysburg who participated in the struggle to save the North from invasion, while innocent Jenny Wade was the only sacrifice which the people of that locality had to offer on the shrine of their

country! Let a monument be erected on the ground which covers her, before which the pilgrims to the holy tombs of the heroes of Gettysburg can bow and bless the memory of Jenny Wade. If the people of Gettysburg are not able alone to raise the funds to pay for a suitable monument for Jenny Wade, let them send a committee to Harrisburg, and our little boys and girls will assist in soliciting subscriptions for this holy purpose. Before the summer sunshine again kisses the grave of Jenny Wade, before the summer birds once more carol where she sleeps in glory, before the flowers again deck the plain made famous by gallant deeds, let a monument rise to greet the skies in token of her virtue, daring and nobleness.

A SINGULAR SPECTACLE IN BATTLE.

In the battle of Stono River, while the men were all behind a crest waiting, a brace of frantic wild turkeys, so paralyzed with fright that they were incapable of flying, ran between the lines and endeavored to hide among the men. But the frenzy among the turkeys was not so touching as the exquisite fright of the birds and rabbits. When the roar of battle reached through the cedar thickets, flocks of little birds fluttered and circled above the field in a state of utter bewilderment, and scores of rabbits fled for protection to our men, lying down in line on the left, nestling under their coats, and creeping under their legs in a state of utter distraction. They hopped over the field like toads, and as perfectly tamed by fright as household pets. Many officers witnessed it, remarking it as one of the most curious spectacles ever seen upon a battle-field.

GEN. ROUSSEAU AND THE REBELS.

A Southerner came to Gen. Rousseau, and requested permission to go beyond the Federal lines and visit his wife. He declared that he had never taken up arms against the Union, but he had aided and abetted those who had, and admitted that he was still a Secessionist.

"You can't go!" said the general.

"It seems very hard," replied Secesh, "that I can't go to see my wife."

"No harder for you than it is for me," returned the general. “I want to see my wife. You have compelled me to leave her by your infernal treason. You surely don't expect me to grant you a favor which your rebellious conduct prevents me from enjoying."

"Well, but, general-"

"It is useless to talk, sir. If you will go to work and assist me to return to my wife, I will do all I can to enable you to return to yours."

"What do you wish me to do, general?"

"I wish you to return to your allegiance, and, as far as lies in your power, to discountenance rebellion and treason." "But, general, my conscience will not allow me to do that."

"Neither, then," replied the Kentucky patriot, "will my conscience allow me to grant you favors which are due only to loyal men."

Of course, as there was nothing further to be urged, the baffled rebel took up his hat and left. The general turned toward those who were sitting in his tent, and quietly remarked:

"When you have rendered these rebels fully sensible of how much they have lost by their rebellion, you have taken the first step toward making them loyal men.”

Scarcely had the secesh gentleman taken his departure, when there came to the door of the tent a foppish fellow in

striped summer clothing, with as mean a looking countenance as one often sees, even amongst the rebels. He held a piece of paper in his hand.

"General," said he, with much levity, insolence and nonchalance, "General, I could not get through your pickets, although I have here Gen. Buell's pass."

"Come in and sit down, sir," said the general; "I am glad to see you; I was just about to send out and have you arrested, and you have saved me the trouble.”

The rebel's countenance instantly fell, and he began to stammer, "Why, general,"

In a voice firm, determined, calm, and yet just angry enough to show that he was in earnest, the general interrupted him:

"I am told that you said to a crowd upon the street, that rather than see the United States government restored throughout the South, you would see even your wife and children buried. If this can be proven against you, I shall send you at once to Fort Warren, as sure as there is a living God!"

Never could there be a more abject and contemptible looking specimen of human being, than that rebel, as he appeared at the conclusion of this speech. The brazen impudence which at first sat upon his features was all gone. He turned first red, then deadly pale; he looked in ludicrous dismay from one individual to another; he writhed, he swallowed, he choked.

"You are self-condemned, Dr. Martin," continued the general; "you are guilty of a heinous offence, and you know it. You have committed, by all laws, human and divine, the high crime of treason. You have accepted a commission as a surgeon in the rebel army, from the hands of Jeff. Davis, whom you knew to be at the head of a vast conspiracy for breaking up the government. You voluntarily offered yourself as a part of the machinery by means of which he expected to overturn the Republic, and destroy the lives of loyal men.