PAUL REVERE'S RIDE.-H. W. Longfellow. LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend-"If the British march Of the North-Church tower, as a signal-light — And I on the opposite shore will be, Through every Middlesex village and farm, Then he said good-night, and with muffled oar A phantom ship, with each mast and spar And a huge, black hulk, that was magnified Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street Then he climbed to the tower of the church, And startled the pigeons from their perch Beneath, in the church-yard, lay the dead And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" Of the place and the hour, the secret dread Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Now gazed on the landscape far and near, And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height, A hurry of hoofs in a village-street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, It was twelve by the village-clock, When he crossed the bridge into Medford town, It was one by the village-clock, He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village-clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. And the twitter of birds among the trees, And one was safe and asleep in his bed You know the rest. In the books you have read From behind each fence and farmyard-wall, So through the night rode Paul Revere ; A cry of defiance, and not of fear A yoice in the darkness, a knock at the door, In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need, PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S ADDRESS AT THE DEDICATION OF GETTYSBURG CEMETERY. Nov. 1864. FOURSCORE and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We are met to dedicate a portion of it as the final resting-place of those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work they have thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to the cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that the nation shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom, and that the government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth. SOCRATES SNOOKS. MISTER Socrates Snooks, a lord of creation, Xantippe Caloric accepted his hand, And they thought him the happiest man in the land. Shall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy.” "Now, Socrates, dearest," Xantippe replied, 66 66 Say our," Xantippe exclaimed in a rage. I won't, Mrs. Snooks, though you ask it an age !" Oh, woman! though only a part of man's rib, Should your naughty companion e'er quarrel with you, Mister Socrates Snooks, after trying in vain, At last, after reasoning the thing in his pate, And so, like a tortoise protruding his head, Said, "My dear, may we come out from under our bed ?” “Hah! hah!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Socrates Snooks, I perceive you agree to my terms by your looks: If you'll only obey me, I'll never look sour." He chanced for a clean pair of trowsers to search: Having found them, he asked, with a few nervous twitches, "My dear, may we put on our new Sunday breeches ?" THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. "GIVE me but two brigades," said Hooker, frowning at for tified Lookout, "And I'll engage to sweep yon mountain clear of that mock ing rebel rout !" |