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.

    They’ll sink like lead, to rise no more—­Oh! let my people go;
    An’ you’ll hear a shout on the other shore—­Oh! let my people go.

    The fiery cloud shall lead the way—­Oh! let my people go;
    A light by night and a shade by day—­Oh! let my people go.

    Jordan shall stand up like a wall—­Oh! let my people go;
    And the wails of Jericho shall fall—­Oh! let my people go.

    Your foes shall not before you stand—­Oh! let my people go;
    And you’ll possess fair Canaan’s land—­Oh! let my people go.

    Oh! let us all from bondage flee—­Oh! let my people go;
    And let us all in Christ be free—­Oh! let my people go.

    This world’s a wilderness of woe—­Oh! let my people go;
    Oh! let us all to glory go—­Oh! let my people go. 
      Oh! go down, Moses,
      Away down to Egypt’s land,
      And tell King Pharaoh
      To let my people go.

* * * * *

Speaking of the interview some weeks since between M. le Comte Henri de Mercier with the extremely ‘honorable’ J.P.  Benjamin, the secession Secretary of State, the Petersburg (Virginia) Express uses the following elegantly accurate language: 

     ’It is said that these two distinguished functionaries spoke the
     French dialect altogether, the gallant Frenchman not having yet
     been enabled to master the good old Anglo-Saxon idiom.’

What, to begin with, is the French dialect?  The Provencal, the Gascon, the Norman, are tolerably prominent French dialects, but which of them is preeminently the dialect we will not decide—­nor why the diplomatic gentlemen selected a dialect instead of French itself as a medium of conversation.  It is, however, possible that Comte de Mercier having heard of little Benjamin’s antecedents, talked to him in argot or thieves’ slang.  It may be that in the school of Floyd and Benjamin argot is the dialect.

Again, we learn that the gallant Frenchman spoke ‘the French dialect’ because he has not as yet mastered ‘the good old Anglo-Saxon idiom.’  This is even more puzzling than the dialect-question.  Why the Anglo-Saxon idiom?  Suppose Count Mercier wished to say that he was sorry that his tobacco had been captured by the foe, why should he couch it in such language as, ’Tha mee ongan hreowan thaet min tobacco on feonda geweald feran sceolde’—­which is the good old Anglo-Saxon idiom.’  We can imagine that thieves’ slang would have the place of honor in Secessia, but why the old Anglo-Saxon idiom should be so esteemed, puzzled us for a longtime.  At last we hit it.  The Southrons have long been told—­or told themselves—­that they are Normans, while we of the North are Saxon—­and hoping to acquire a little Anglo-Saxon intelligence, prudently begin by studying the language which they believe is in common use among our literati.