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What time is it, Doctor Austin ?" "Nearly twelve." "Then don't you go!

Can it be that all this happened-all this-not an hour ago?

"There was where the gunboats opened on the dark rebellious host;

And where Webster semicircled his last guns upon the coast; There were still the two log-houses, just the same, or else their ghost!

And the same old transport came and took me over,—or its ghost!

"And the old field lay before me all deserted far and wide; There was where they fell on Prentiss,—there McClernand met the tide;

There was where stern Sherman rallied, and where Hurlbut's heroes died,

Lower down where Wallace charged them, and kept charging till he died.

"There was where Lew Wallace showed them he was of the canny kin;

There was where old Nelson thundered, and where Rousseau waded in;

There McCook sent 'em to break fast, and we all began to win;There was where the grape-shot took me, just as we began to win.

"Now a shroud of snow and silence over everything was spread;

And but for this old blue mantle and the old hat on my head, I should not have even doubted, to this moment, I was dead, For my footsteps were as silent as the snow upon the dead!

"Death and silence!-death and silence! all around me as I sped!

And behold a mighty tower, as if builded to the dead,
To the heaven of the heavens, lifted up its mighty head,
Till the stars and stripes of heaven all seemed waving from
its head!

"Round and mighty-based it towered,-up into the infinite,-And I knew no mortal mason could have built a shaft so bright;

For it shone like solid sunshine; and a winding star of light Wound around it aud around it till it wound clear out of

sight!

"And, behold, as I approached it, with a rapt and dazzled

stare,

Thinking that I saw old comrades just ascending the great stair,

Suddenly the solemn challenge broke of 'Halt, and who

goes there?'

'I'm a friend,' I said, ‘if you are.' 'Then advance, sir, to the stair!'

"I advanced!-That sentry, doctor, was Elijah Ballantyne !First of all to fall on Monday, after we had formed the line!'Welcome, my old sergeant, welcome! Welcome by that countersign!'

And he pointed to the scar there, under this old cloak of mine!

"As he grasped my hand, I shuddered, thinking only of the grave;

But he smiled and pointed upward with a bright and bloodless glaive;

"That's the way, sir, to head-quarters!' 'What head-quarters?' 'Of the brave!'

'But the great tower?' 'That,' he answered, ‘is the way, sir, of the brave!'

"Then a sudden shame came o'er me at his uniform of light; At my own so old and tattered, and at his so new and bright. 'Ah!' said he, 'you have forgotten the new uniform tonight,

Hurry back, for you must be here at just twelve o'clock tonight!'

"And the next thing I remember, you were sitting there, and I

Doctor, did you hear a footstep? Hark-God bless you all! Good-by!

Doctor, please to give my musket and my knapsack, when I die,

To my son-my son that 's coming-he won't get here till I die!

"Tell him his old father blessed him as he never did before,And to carry that old musket-" Hark! a knock is at the door

"Till the Union-" See! it opens!- "Father! Father! speak once more!"

"Bless you!" gasped the old gray sergeant,—and he lay and said no more!

HUMANITY.-COWPER.

I would not enter on my list of friends

(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.

An inadvertent step may crush the snail
That crawls at evening in the public path;
But he that has humanity, forewarned,
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight,
And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes,
A visitor unwelcome, into scenes

Sacred to neatness and repose,--the alcove,
The chamber, or refectory, may die:

A necessary act incurs no blame.

Not so when, held within their proper bounds,
And guiltless of offense, they range the air,
Or take their pastime in the spacious field:
There they are privileged; and he that hunts
Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong,
Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm,

Who, when she formed, designed them an abode.
The sum is this: If man's convenience, health,
Or safety interfere, his rights and claims
Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs;
Else they are all-the meanest things that are-
As free to live, and to enjoy that life,

As God was free to form them at the first,
Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons
To love it too.

TOM, THE DRUMMER-BOY.

An incident of the late war as related in "Song Victories of The Bliss a Sankey Hymns,"-published by D. Lothrop & Co.

A chaplain in our army one morning found Ton, the drummer-boy, a great favorite with all the men, and whom, because of his sobriety and religious example, they called "the young deacon," sitting alone under a tree. At first he thought him asleep, but, as he drew near, the boy lifted up his head, and he saw tears in his eyes.

"Well, Tom, my boy, what is it; for I see your thoughts are sad? What is it?"

“Why, sir, I had a dream last night, which I can't get out of my mind."

"What was it?"

“You know that my little sister Mary is dead—died when ten years old. My mother was a widow,-poor, but good. She never seemed like herself afterwards. In a year or so, she died, too; and then I, having no home, and no mother,

came to the war. But last night I dreamed the war was over, and I went back to my home, and just before I got to the house, my mother and little sister came out to meet me. I didn't seem to remember they were dead! How glad they were! And how my mother, in her smiles, pressed me to her heart! Oh, sir, it was just as real as you are real now!" 'Thank God, Tom, that you have such a mother, not really dead, but in heaven, and that you are hoping, through Christ, to meet her again!" The boy wiped his eyes and was comforted.

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The next day there was terrible fighting. Tom's drum was heard all day long, here and there. Four times the ground was swept and occupied by the two contending armies. But as the night came on, both paused, and neither dared to go on the field lest the foe be there. Tom, "the young deacon," it was known, was wounded and left on the battlefield. His company encamped near the battle-field. In the evening, when the noise of battle was over, and all was still, they heard a voice singing, away off on the field. They felt sure it was Tom's voice. Softly and beautifully the words floated on the wings of night,

"Jesus! lover of my soul,

Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past!
Safe into the haven guide,

Oh, receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none,

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee!
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,

Still support and comfort me!"

The voice stopped here, and there was silence. In the morning the soldiers went out and found Tom sitting on the ground, and leaning against a stump-dead! His soul went up in the song. Did his mother and Mary meet him? Who can say?

A TOAST-"PEACE AND PLENTY." Corn in the big crib, and money in the pocket, Baby in the cradle, and pretty wife to rock it, Coffee in the closet, and sugar in the barrel,

Love around the fire-side, and folks that never quarrel.

THE LANDLORD OF "THE BLUE HEN."
PHOEBE CARY.

Once, a long time ago, so good stories begin,

There stood by the roadside an old-fashioned inn;
An inn which the landlord had named "The Blue Hen,"
While he, by his neighbors, was called "Uncle Ben."

At least, they quite often addressed him that way
When ready to drink, but not ready to pay;
Though when he insisted on having the cash,

They went off mutt'ring "Rummy," and "Old Brandy Smash.”
He sold barrels of liquor, but still the old "Hen"
Seemed never to flourish, and neither did "Ben;"
For he drank up his profits, as every one knew-
Even those who were drinking their profits up too,

So, with all they could drink, and with all they could pay,
The landlord grew poorer and poorer each day;

Men said, as he took down the gin from the shelf,

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The steadiest customer there was himself."

There was hardly a man living in the same street
But had too much to drink and too little to eat;
The women about the old "Hen" got the blues;
The girls had no bonnets, the boys had no shoes.

When a poor fellow died, he was borne on his bier
By his comrades, whose hands shook with brandy and fear;
For, of course, they were terribly frightened, and yet
They went back to "The Blue Hen" to drink and forget!

There was one jovial farmer who couldn't get by

The door of “The Blue Hen" without feeling dry;

One day he discovered his purse growing light;

"There must be a leak somewhere," he said. He was right!

Then there was the blacksmith (the best ever known,

Folks said, if he'd only let liquor alone)

Let his forge cool so often, at least he forgot

To heat up his iron and strike when 'twas hot.

Once a miller, going home from "The Blue Hen," 'twas said,
While his wife sat and wept by his sick baby's bed,
Had made a false step, and slept all night alone
In the bed of the river, instead of his own.

Even poor "Ben" himself could not drink of the cup
Of fire forever without burning up;

He grew sick, fell to raving, declared that he knew
No doctors could help him; and they said so, too.

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