Rebel Women

B. F. T., army corespondent of the Chicago Journal, in one of his letters from Tennessce, says: I shall never be done admiring the patriotie faith and undying devotion of the loyal women of the land, but 1 raust teil you that the rebel vromen of the South are worthy in everythiug but a sacred cause of their Northern sisters. - Thore is nothing they will not surrender, with a smile ; the geiumed ring, the diamond bracelet, the richwardrobe. They cut up the rieh carpets for soldiers' blankets without a sigh ; take the fine linen from their persons for the bandages. VVhen 400 of Longstreet's men came up to Nash vi lie, prisoners of war, about the roughest, dirticst, wildest, fellows the sun ever shone on, and a flight of stairs in the building they oceupied feil, killing and wour.diug a large number of them, you should have seen the fairyouug traitresses como forth from the old aristocratie mansions, bearing restoratives and delicacics ia their hands, micgling in the dingy crowd, wiping away the blood with their white handkerchiefs, and utteriog words of cheer; should have seen them doing this with hundreds of Union soldiers all round, and smiling back upon the rough blackguards of rebels as they left; but in all there was a dofiant air, a pride in their humanity strange to sae. Of a truth they cnrried it off grandly. And almost all those girls were in mourning for dead rebels, brothers, lovers, frienda, whoni these same girls had sneered into treason and driven into rebellion, and billowed all the South witli their graves, and the least they could do was to wear black for them and flaunt black from the window bliuds. Clothed be their souls in sack cloth ! I said they were woi thy of their sisters at the North, in all but a rigbteous cause, but I said wrong. - There is a bitterness, there are glimpses of the Pythoness, that make you shrink from them. But they are fearfully in earrsest ; they are almost grand in selfsacrifice. Oh! that they were true and loviug daughters of the old flag. j2ï" Whon Socratea was asked vvhy lie had built bimself so small a house, ho replied: "Small as it is I wish I could fill it with friends." These, indeed, are all that a wise man would desiro to assemble; for a crowd is not company, and facea are but a gallery of pictüres, and talk but a tinkling oymbal, where thero is no love, JSJ3" Oh wondrona age! when want of na,tive charras no longer filis fair women with alarm?; hen piinted roses 'dorn the sallow face, and iron ribbing gives her every grace: when piles of gold, her dtrè'a ill-gotten gains, 'are full atoncment for the want of brains; when solid gruces wield a blunted dart, while musk and moonligbt win the lover's heart.