We must not despair of the Republic. All is not lost. The Union yet lives. Its restoration approaches. The calm will soon follow the storm. The golden sunlight and the silver edging of the azure clouds will be seen again in the horizon. The bow of promise will appear in the heavens, to mark the retiring of the bitter waters, proclaiming from on high, that now, henceforth, and forever, no second secession deluge shall ever disturb the onward, united, and peaceful march of the Republic. OUR WOUNDED. As loftier rise the ocean's heaving crests, Ere they sink, tempest-driven, on the strand; So do these hearts and freedom-beating breasts, Sublimed by suffering, fall upon our land. Wounded! O sweet-lipped word! for on the page Of this strange history, all these scars shall be The hieroglyphics of a valiant age, Deep writ in freedom's blood-red mystery. What though your fate sharp agony reveals! What though the mark of brother's blows you bear! The breath of your oppression upward steals, Like incense from crushed spices into air. Freedom lies listening, nor as yet averts The battle horrors of these months' slow length; But as she listens, silently she girts More close, more firm, the armor of her strength. Then deem them not as lost, these bitter days, Nor those which yet in anguish must be spent Far from loved skies and home's peace-moving ways, For these are not the losses you lament. It is the glory that your country bore, Which you would rescue from a living grave; It is the unity that once she wore, Which your true hearts are yearning still to save. Despair not: _it is written_, though the eye, Red with its watching, can no future scan: The glow of triumph yet shall flush the sky, And God redeem the ruin made by man. A SOUTHERN REVIEW. A friend 'down South' has kindly sent us a number of '_De Bow's Review, Industrial Resources_, etc.,' as its elegantly worded title-page proclaims. It is true that the number in question is none of the freshest, it having appeared at Charleston, in December last. Yet, as a Southern magazine published during the war, and full of war matter, it is replete with interest. Its first article on Privateers and Privateersmen, by George Fitzhugh of Virginia--as arrogant, weak, and Sophomorical as Southern would-be 'literary' articles usually are--is written in a vein of reasoning so oddly illogical as to almost induce suspicion as to the sanity of the author. Let the reader take, for instance, the following extracts: