December 31.—One of the stormiest and bleakest nights I have ever witnessed. I looked out and the darkness was fearful. The sky appeared as if God had shut out the light of his countenance from us forever. The elements are warring like our poor selves.
I never look on such a night without thinking of the soldier who may be at that moment doing sentinel duty. How dreary must be his walk as he paces along,
“And thinks of the two on the low trundle-bed,
Far away in the cot on the mountain;
His musket falls slack, his face, dark and grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender,
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep,
And their mother, may Heaven defend her.”
Another sun has run its yearly course, and to all appearances we are no nearer the goal of liberty than we were this day last year. No gleam of light comes to tell us that reason has returned to the darkened minds of our ruthless foe. We have to listen to tales of wrong committed on our people, enough to rouse the blood in the coldest heart, and make us in despair cry aloud for vengeance.
“The blood of murdered legions
Summons vengeance from the skies;
Flaming towns and ravaged regions,
All in awful judgment rise.”
In the past year we have suffered disaster after disaster, but nothing is worth having which does not cost a struggle; and, then, as our beloved president tells us, it is only for a little while. The enemy has brought army after army against Richmond, and have as often had to retire in dismay and confusion before the invincible Lee and his veteran army.
The enemy have the Mississippi River only in name. Louisiana is almost as free from them as it has been since the fall of New Orleans. Texas is ours. Mississippi is guarded by that king of cavalrymen, Forrest. Charleston,
“Through coming years its name
A talisman shall be.”
Shell after shell has been hurled against its sacred walls. Column after column of the invader round it have found graves.
Ah I would I could say as much about Tennessee. How my heart sickens at the desecration of her sacred vales and mountains! Our dead are not permitted to lie in their resting-places; houses are fired, and their inmates cast out into the ruthless storm.
“The wing of war that, hovering
O’er this bright and beauteous land,
Throws a dark, foreboding shadow
Round our faithful, fearless land.
But we will ne’er grow discouraged,
Though the vandals round us crowd;
For our star is not declining,
‘T is only vailed behind a cloud.
Hark! the bugle note is sounding,
The fearful crisis comes at last;
By Heaven’s help we’ll scatter them
Like autumn leaves before the blast;
Then from peaceful dell and mountain
Will ring the anthems of the free,
Hand in hand we’ll meet rejoicing
Around the flag of Tennessee.”
On the water we have the gallant Captains Semmes and Maffitt, bringing dismay to the grasping Yankee, by destroying what to him is dearer than life.
We have many true and determined men yet, who will never yield as long as the life-blood streams through their veins. I have no fear for our cause; our martyrs have not offered up their lives in vain.
“For they never fail who die
In a just cause. The block may suck
Their gore; their heads may sodden
In the sun; their limbs be strung
To city-gates and castle-walls,
But still their spirits walk abroad,
And never rest till the great cause triumphs.”
