MILITARY COMPANIES. An organized priesthood is bad enough, and an organized doctor-hood; but organized revenge, incorporated hate, is a trespass upon the moral sense, which is intolerable. The idea of a body of respectable human beings accoutreing themselves with desperate looking knives, and murderous guns with bayonets "fixed" in 'em, and parading about a peaceable community which never could have done anything bad enough to deserve such an infliction, is preposterous, really. And then what consummate foolery it is, especially in dog-day weather, for able-bodied human creatures to wad themselves out with cotton enough to defend another New Orleans, and disfigure themselves with those ugly bob-tail coats! And those ungainly things, two or three stories high, called caps, ornamented with long tail-feathers tipped with blood, and as comfortless and heavy as if made of cast-iron,— why in the name of common sense will men lug such "traps" about on their heads? Poor fellows, as they walk along,-no, not walk, that is beyond their military competency, but march— as they march along, then, with their fine brows dented and dimmed by these-I had almost said fools'-caps, and their breasts puffed out with the great American staple, and their whole uniform so arranged as to produce the greatest possible amount of discomfort, the big sweat stands out upon their faces like dew, and but for the sense of the ridiculous which it excites, their jaded appearance would melt the community to tears. And then their "arms,”—of what possible use are they, save to "hew and hack" these poor bodies of ours, which in their best estate are none too comely or comfortable? And which of those fine young fellows wants to use the hateful things for any such purpose?Not one of them. They have not—as a rule—a whit of that murderous spirit which their guns and knives represent. They submit to the foolery of wearing them because it is fashionable,and withal a little heroic. And that's not all. The din and drudgery of common life are so monotonous and wearisoine, that the tired soul, eager for relaxation, seizes hold of anything which affords the least contrast or change, whether it be a company of independent soldiers, or an independent company of "Odd Fellows." Anything for a change. Provide healthful social arrangements for the people, and let their homes be what they should, the abodes of peace, and purity, and plenty,—and this feverish thirst for something frivolous and extravagant, as a relief from the exhausting toil for bread,-will give way to a love of truth and beauty, and a life of tranquility and peace. But so long as society compels men to labor beyond their strength, and fails to provide proper means of amusement and recreation, and so long as social intercourse is embarrassed by all manner of coldhearted restraints and embarassments, so long men will continue to indulge themselves in their present absurd practices, and the land will be cumbered with every species of destructive organization. NOT ON THE BATTLE FIELD. BY JOHN PIERPONT. "To fall on the battle-field fighting for my dear country -that would not be hard." THE NEIGHBORS. O no, no, let ME lie Not on a field of battle, when I die! Let not the iron tread Of the mad war-horse crush my helmed head: That I have drawn against a brother's life, Thunders along, and tramples me beneath Or gory felloes of his cannon's wheels. From such a dying bed, Though o'er it float the stripes of white and red, The clustered stars upon his wide-spread wings, To sparkle in my sight, O, never let my spirit take her flight! I know that beauty's eye Is all the brighter where gay pennants fly, And sunshine flashes on the lifted lance: And people shouted till the welkin rung Who on the battle-field have found a grave: I know that o'er their bones Have grateful hands piled monumental stones. The one at Lexington upon the green And to my country's independence led; The "Battle Monument" at Baltimore, Ay, and abroad, a few more famous still; That looks out yet upon the Grecian seas, That issue from the gulf of Salamis. And thine, too, have I seen, Thy mound of earth, Patroclus, robed in green, Sheep climb and nibble over as they stroll, Upon the margin of the plain of Troy. Such honors grace the bed, I know, whereon the warrior lays his head, The conquered flying, and the conquerer's shout. What is a column or a mound to him? What, to the parting soul, The mellow note of bugles? What the roll Of drums? No, let me die Where the blue heaven bends o'er me lovingly, As it goes by me, stirs my thin white hair, The death-damp as it gathers, and the skies My soul to their clear depths! Or let me leave Wife, children, weeping friends are gathered, And holy hymning shall my soul prepare With kindred spirits, - spirits who have blessed By labors, cares, and counsels for their good. In my dying hour, When riches, fame, and honor have no power Or from my lips to turn aside the cup O, let me draw refreshment from the past! With peace and joy, along my earthly track, That I have scattered there, in virtuous deeds, And though no grassy mound Or granite pile says 'tis heroic ground Still will I hope - vain hope perhaps ! Whom I have striven to bless, The wanderer reclaimed, the fatherless, May stand around my grave, - that those With the poor prisoner, and the poorest slave, That they may die like him whose bones are mouldering there. THE DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SLAVES, RESPECTIVELY, OR DOMESTIC SERVITUDE AS SANCTIONED BY THE BIBLE : A DISCOURSE DELIVERED IN THE GOVERNMENT STREET CHURCH, MOBILE, ALA., BY REV. W. T. HAMILTON, D. D., PASTOR OF SAID CHURCH, ON SUNDAY The above is the title of a discourse, for a copy of which I am indebted to the courtesy of the author. It differs from the discourses preached by New England clergymen, on the subject of slavery, in being bold, frank, and unshrinking, instead of tame, non-committal, and cowardly. It is also written in a simple unpretending style, adapted to the rudest comprehension, and well calculated to leave a deep impression. But here all praise must stop; for as for the sentiments of the book, they are atrocious, so much so, as to require the greatest stretch of charity to consider that the author, or any body else, ever honestly entertained them. The "divine" takes for his text, the 1st verse of the 4th chapter of Paul's Epistle to the Colossians :-" Masters give unto your servants that which is just and equal; knowing that you also have a master in heaven." Now any body whose common sense had not been educated. out of him in a divinity school, or who had not graduated from some theological tread-mill, would want no better text than this, from which to preach the most radical Anti-Slavery sentiments which ever adorned the lips of man. Read it. "Masters give unto your servants that which is just and equal. Is it "just" to keep back a man's wages? Is it "just" to deprive him of the privilege of locomotion? Is it "just" to sell him? Is this the equality of which the apostle spoke? Is this a sample of his justice? If so, then Paul was a tyrant, and had gone back to his old trade of persecuting Christians, and was wielding his Damascene blade against the dearest rights of man. If he really meant |