TO THE EDITOR OF THE COMMONWEALTH:

Norfolk, Jan. 7, 1964.

The New Year came into Norfolk in a high gale.

"Did you hear the wind turning over the 'new leaf,' at one o'clock this morning? said the daughter of John Brown, of Ossawatomie, as she sat at my elbow. And as we looked on, whole the day wrote on the new leaf its strange history.

With music, and banners, and triumphal marching, the colored citizens with their wives, proclaimed anew through the streets of Norfolk the triumph of the President's Proclamation of Emancipation. And Gen. Butler marched with them, with his staff. Gen. Wild joined them, with his brigade of negro soldiers. Gen. Getty and his staff were there; and Gen. Ludlow and Gen. Hickman marched forth with their staffs. Gen. Barnes, too, our noble military Governor, did himself and his staff the honor to swell the high acclaim.

The banners thanked God for Freedom; called Abraham Lincoln "Our Moses;" made a pictured red coffin bear the "Remains of Slavery;" boasted bravely of "the Flag," which truly now

"Waves o'er the land of the free,
Once the home of the slave."

In the dark day when Nehemiah Adams, taking notes for his book, came down to peep through the lens of slavery, he said he expected when he crossed Mason's and Dixon's line to see sable-skins on bended knees, uplifting their clasped hands and manacled wrists, and rending the air with the cry, "Am I not a man and a brother?"

If he had taken a peep at the new order of things on New Year's day, he would have seen sable skins,--a mighty host,--standing erect as God commanded them to do, and thanking him for having made them men and brothers.--Thanking Abraham Lincoln, too, for letting them be, what God made them to be, and for letting them alone.

If silence speaks respect, Norfolk is now the humble servant of the vitalized principle of liberty and fraternity. But, until the oath was made the grand property restorer, the self-esteem and support in pursuing the shadowy promises of the shadowy government in Richmond.--Proud to be martyrs, till cold and hunger pinched them sore, they sat idle at their cold firesides, though loyalty stood with the key in its hand, ready to open again their closed shops. Their wives gave the side-walk to the soldiers, and frowned upon Northerners as only ladies with Southern manners can frown; while their children, of larger as well as of smaller growth, thrust their vain little obstacles between the eager, knowledge-craving negro and every one who sought to meet his wants.

But seeing the heavens stand, though their heel is lifted from the neck of the negro; and seeing prosperity and promise in "The Union," frowning, hissing and martyrdom are of the past.

This evening, at a celebration by colored free-masons of the birthday of St. John, one of the speakers said, "Dis is our first public celebration. We have been grubbin' under groun' for ten years. But now, de bushel off de light! De sun shine jus de same when de cloud hide it; so we shine jus de same under groun'; but now we shine toder sided, for de bushel off de light, now."

And "de bushel is off de light, now," and when the long-benighted slavery-worshippers are used to the glare of truth let out upon them, they will see the pleasant-illumined pathways, and will walk therein.

CONTRABAND.