The Nashville _Union_--the new Union newspaper of that city--is emphatically 'an institution,' and a dashing one at that. Its every column is like the charge of a column of infantry into the unhallowed Rebel-ry of Disunion. 'Don't compromise your loyalty with rebels,' says the _Union_, 'until you are ready to compromise your soul with the devil.' Some of the humor of this brave pioneer sheet is decidedly piquant. Among its quizzical literary efforts the review of Rev. Dr. McFerrin's _Confederate Primer_ is good enough to form the initial of a series. We make the following extracts: 'Nothing is more worthy of being perpetuated than valuable contributions to literature. The literature of a nation is its crown of glory, whose reflected light shines far down the swift-rolling waves of time and gladdens the eyes of remote generations. This beautiful and--to our notion--finely-expressed sentiment was suggested to our mind in turning over the pages of Rev. Dr. McFerrin's _Confederate Primer_, which we briefly noticed yesterday. We feel that we then passed too hastily over a work so grand in its conception.... The _Primer_, after giving the alphabet in due form, offers some little rhymes for youngsters, which are perfect nosegays of sentiment, of which the following will serve as samples: N. At Nashville's fall We sinned all. T. At Number Ten We sinned again. F. Thy purse to mend, Old Floyd, attend. L. Abe Lincoln bold, Our ports doth hold. D. Jeff Davis tells a lie, And so must you and I. I. Isham doth mourn His case forlorn. P. Brave Pillow's flight Is out of sight. B. Buell doth play, And after slay. O. Yon Oak will be the gallows-tree Of Richmond's fallen majesty. Governor Ishain Harris 'catches it' in the following extract from the Easy Reading Lessons for Children: 'LESSON FIRST. 'THE SMART DIX-IE BOY. 'Once there was a lit-tle boy, on-ly four years old. His name was Dix-ie. His fa-ther's name was I-sham, and his moth-er's name was All-sham. Dix-ie was ver-y smart, He could drink whis-ky, fight chick-ens, play po-ker, and cuss his moth-er. When he was on-ly two years old, he could steal su-gar, hook pre-serves, drown kit-tens, and tell lies like a man. By and by Dix-ie died, and went to the bad place. But the dev-il would not let Dix-ie stay there, for he said: 'When you get big, Dix-ie, you would be head-devil yourself.' All little Reb-els ought to be like Dix-ie, and so they will, if they will stud-y the _Con-fed-e-rate Prim-er_.' Very good, too, is the powerful and thrilling sermon on the 'Curse of Cowardice,' delivered by the Rev. Dr. Meroz Armageddon Baldwin, from which we take 'the annexed:'