"With Sherman?

No, I followed Grant, sir, in the old Potomac fight;

When the rebel balls were whizzin' all about us day and

night;

Where we had to hew our progress, every foot that marked the way,

And the troops were piled in furrows, like great swaths of new-mown hay.

'Neath a sun that poured in fury down upon devoted heads

'Neath the freezing blasts of winter, with a snow-drift for our beds;

In the swamps, where venomed reptiles coiled about us as we passed,

Till we thought each fleeting moment was on earth to be our last.

I was with him, sir, at Richmond, when the rebel banner fell;

Layin' bleedin' by the ramparts durin' that triumphant yell. Both my legs had passed from under, severed by a cannon

ball,

And the quiverin' trunk lay helpless just beneath the rebel wall.

But my wail of bitter anguish told a nation it was free'Twas the price of threatened honor- 'twas the price of liberty!

"Married? No! thank God! I'm single. In my wanderin' mode of life

Heaven knows how I should manage, were I burdened with a wife!

What with all the weary heartaches I've been forced to battle through,

Freezin' nights, and starvin' mornin's, I have borne enough for two!

Days and days have passed together when I've sought in

vain for bread!

Bitter nights have closed around me with no place to lay my head!

Should you wish to know the torments of a hell on earth begun,

Robbed of strength to fight and conquer, face the world as I have done!

Walk the streets a starvin' beggar, hawkin' wares, but few

will buy;

Note the glance of scornful loathin', as each one goes heedless by.

Feel the pangs of gnawin' hunger that you have no means

to stay,

Know that life is growin' feebler from exposure, day by day. See the happy, smilin' faces, gracin' homes of wealth and

ease,

Knowin' that you left your manhood on the battle-field for these.

"I was happy in my youth-time-happy in a maiden's love

But she left me, when the angels called her to themselves above.

She was much too pure and gentle for this weary world of

care,

So she's watchin' for my comin' in the mansions over there! I can see her form to-night, sir, as I saw it once before, When I left her in the gloamin' and enlisted for the war. As she wept upon my shoulder, holy tears that glisten yet, Were, as gems of rarest beauty, in the crown of freedom set. In the bitter days that followed, many a cheering message

came,

Bearin' words of peace and comfort in my absent darlin's

name.

When I fell amid the carnage and the papers had me dead, She just sank beneath the tidin's and resigned her life

instead!

Well, I s'pose the blessed Master knew jest how it all would be,

And removed her to His kingdom, holdin' her, in trust, for

me.

"I am sure, I beg your pardon! but, somehow, I al’ays find

That the world seems growin' brighter, when I thus relieve my mind.

Jack is sleepin' soundly, bless him! he has brought me only

gain

For his childish whims and fancies have renewed my youth

again.

There is somethin', sir, in children, that commands our love

at will!

Teachin' us the blissful lesson that the heart is human

still!

What is that? a five you've given'? Do you really mean it, SURE?

May the Lord reward an' keep you for your kindness to the

poor.

And another for the youngster? Why, the skies are clearin' fast;

But I guess the angels, maybe, have remembered us at last!

I am but a crippled soldier, lost among my fellow-men,
But I garner by the wayside, bits of wisdom now and

then;

And I've often noticed, stranger, as from place to place I

roam,

That the skies seem growin' brighter, as I'm drawin' nearer home."

J. RUSSELL FISHER.

THE DOCTOR'S WEDDING.

THOUGH Oft I've read of love unblessed,
Like Thisbe's, at the tomb of Ninus,
And fair Genevra's in the chest,

And missing brides, and bridegrooms minus,
No tale that Ovid ever told,

Or minstrels sung, of love's disgressions,
Quite equals one I heard of old,

Or leaves upon my mind enscrolled

Such lively scenes and dire impressions. ·

About Van Tromp - a sounding name-
A dozen miles 'twas known to fame!
A man most dignified was he,
Little Turveydrop; so fine to see
That faces filled each window-pane.
As he passed by with whalebone-cane,
And goggles green astride his nose,
And flying cloak, and sable clothes.

The very children stopped and gazed
As on a Solomon in pomp.

The farmers' wives his wisdom praised,
And curtsied low to Dr. Van Tromp.
His hair was the finest wig in the place;
His teeth won the premium at the fair;
His corsets were bone, and his ruffles lace-
He was all made up of articles rare!

He was a bachelor quite lone.
The Widow Proctor, young and fair,
The finest farm was said to own
In all that section, rich and rare.
The Doctor-though in knowledge great—
In gold and lands had little share.

Now what more fitting thing could be
Than he should seek the widow's hand,
And flatter her that gold and land,
As ancient sages did declare,
Should be allied to high degree,
And guarded by a husband's care?
The widow thought him wondrous fair
With goggles green and cane of bone,
And long and waving cue, anointed,
And teeth that took the premium A.
Her heart was not a heart of stone,
From all these charms to turn away;
She soon the wedding day appointed.

'Twas eve in fall — a glorious time
Of apples, peaches, plums, and pears,
And grapes that filled the vines with wine;
The doctor thought the moon so fine,
She must have polished her face benign;
On this particular evening to shine.
Now in that section there were bears,
And one adventurous bear was said
To make himself quite neighborly when
The harvest came. From the milking shed
Calves disappeared; pigs from the pen,
Astray by the neighborly bear were led,
And never, I'm told, returned again.

Now the doctor's way, on his wedding-night,
Through the woodlands lay. He went alone,
Of Bruin's tricks forgetful quite

His only weapon his cane of bone.
The lovely face of nature viewing;
The moon, all bright with smiles above;
How could he dream of mischief brewing,
Or think of anything but love?

Now it may be the bear that day
The widow's pigs to mind did call

It

may be, but I cannot say;

But his path through the woodlands lay
Just as the shades began to fall,
And, being peacefully inclined,
Trotted the doctor's steps behind.

He made resound;

The grouse rose whirring from the brake,
As he declared, with trill and shake,
That he would "lay him down and die"
For "Bonnie Annie Laurie's " sake!

At last the pat of feet heard he

He looked around

what eyes were those?

He ceased his song at upper G,

And drew his breath in "ah's" and "oh's."

He did not seize a club of oak,

Like Valentine, in Gallic fable,

And end the bear at one bold stroke,

But ran as fast as he was able.

His very teeth began to chatter,
And then dropped out.

He left his wig

In air, in an o'erhanging twig,
And thought the loss but little matter.
His cloak flew to some unknown place,
And next he felt his stays unlace;
But he, like Shakspeare, only said
"I am undone," and onward sped.