The spirit of the Southern women is well known to have been as vigorous and determined as that of their brothers, and the sacrifices which they were compelled to make were much more severe and general than at the North. They had been dependent upon the North and foreign countries for clothing and the luxuries of the household, and when these sources of supply were cut off by the war and the blockade, they had to make and sew their own homespun dresses, and forego all the delights of fashion and adornment. The sacrifices and devotion of the daughters of the South were sung in turgid rhetoric, like the threats and appeals of the men, but here is a genuine voice, evidently a woman's own, which speaks for her sisters in their homelier trials, as well as in their deeper emotions:-- THE SOUTHERN GIRL'S SONG. Oh yes, I am a Southern girl, And glory in the name, And boast it with far greater pride Than glittering wealth or fame. We envy not the Northern girl With robes of beauty rare, Though diamonds grace her snowy neck And péarls bedeck her hair. Hurrah, hurrah, For the sunny South so dear. Three cheers for the homespun dress That Southern ladies wear! The homespun dress is plain, I know, My hat's palmetto, too, But then it shows what Southern girls For Southern rights will do. We have sent the bravest of our land To battle with the foe, And we will lend a helping hand; We love the South, you know. Now, Northern goods are out of date, And since old Abe's blockade, We Southern girls can be content With goods that's Southern made. We sent our sweethearts to the war, But, dear girls, never mind, Your soldier love will ne'er forget The girl he left behind. The soldier is the lad for me, A brave heart I adore; And when the sunny South is free, And when the fight is no more, I 'll choose me then a lover brave From out the gallant band; The soldier lad I love the best Shall have my heart and hand. The Southern land's a glorious land, And has a glorious cause; Then cheer, three cheers for Southern rights And for the Southern boys. We 'll scorn to wear a bit of silk, A bit of Northern lace; And make our homespun dresses up, And wear them with such grace. And now, young men, a word to you: If you would win the fair, Go to the field where honor calls And win your lady there. Remember that our brightest smiles Are for the true and brave, And that our tears are all for those Who fill a soldier's grave.