The reliance of England is, by returning to her sweet, stale flatteries, after the establishment of the Confederacy, to be friends as of old with the North. It is, she thinks, easily done. Our servants abroad and their friends are to be a little more favored with levee tickets and access to noble society; a few dozen more of the rank and file will be marched along or 'presented' before her Majesty, and thereby sworn in to endless admiration of all that is Anglican; venerable gentlemen in white waistcoats will make sweet speeches, after public dinners, of the beauty of Union, just as they made them here a year ago, in reference to the South, when the tiger was on the spring. The old see-saw of 'nations united in language and customs--brothers at heart,' will be set to vibrating, and all, as they believe, must jog along merrily as of old. For it is with a very little regularly organized stuff of this kind, turned on or off as from a hydrant, and always in dribbling drops at that, that England has, when necessary, pacified and delighted a great number of Americans, semi-insane to be received on terms of equality by the 'higher classes,' whom they worshiped at heart, while they affected all manner of bold Americanisms to hide the truth. It is time to end all this. We have come to serious and terrible days, and must be free from all such flunkeyism. In our hour of trouble, the English press boldly proclaimed that its sympathy was with the South. Let it be remembered! * * * * * In our June number we gave the Kansas John Brown song, for the benefit of those who collect the more curious ballads of the war. We are indebted to Clark's _School-Visitor_ for the following song of the Contrabands, which originated among the latter, and was first sung by them in the hearing of white people at Fortress Monroe, where it was noted down by their chaplain, Rev. L.C. Lockwood. It is to a plaintive and peculiar air, and we may add has been published with it in 'sheet-music style,' with piano-forte accompaniment, by Horace Waters, New-York: OH! LET MY PEOPLE GO. THE SONG OF THE CONTRABANDS. The Lord, by Moses, to Pharaoh said: Oh! let my people go; If not, I'll smite your first-born dead--Oh! let my people go. Oh! go down, Moses, Away down to Egypt's land, And tell King Pharaoh To let my people go. No more shall they in bondage toil--Oh! let my people go; Let them come out with Egypt's spoil--Oh! let my people go. Haste, Moses, till the sea you've crossed--Oh! let my people go; Pharaoh shall in the deep be lost--Oh! let my people go. The sea before you shall divide--Oh! let my people go; You'll cross dry-shod to the other aide--Oh! let my people go. Fear not King Pharaoh or his host--Oh! let my people go; For they shall in the sea be lost--Oh! let my people go.