And then we thought on vengeance, and all along ou

van,

"Remember St. Bartholomew!" was passed from man

to man;

But out spake gentle Henry, then,-" No Frenchman is my foe;

Down, down with every foreigner! but let your brethren go."

Oh, was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in

war,

As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of

Navarre?

Ho! maidens of Vienna!

Ho! matrons of Lucerne ! Weep, weep and rend your hair for those who never shall return!

Ho! Philip, send for charity thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls.

Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright!

Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward

to-night!

For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave,

And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of the

brave.

Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are! And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre!-T. B. MACAULAY.

THE OLD SERGEANT.

THE carrier cannot sing to-day the ballads

THE

With which he used to go

Rhyming the glad rounds of the happy New Years

That are now beneath the snow.

For the same awful and portentous shadow

That overcast the earth,

And smote the land last year with desolation,

Still darkens every hearth.

And the carrier hears Beethoven's mighty death-march

Come up from every mart;

And he hears and feels it breathing in his bosom,

And beating in his heart.

And to-day, a scarred and weather-beaten veteran,
Again he comes along,

To tell the story of the Old Year's struggles

In another New Year's song.

And the song is his, but not so with the story,

For the story, you must know,

Was told in prose to Assistant Surgeon Austin,

By a soldier of Shiloh,

By Robert Burton, who was brought up on the "Adams,” With his death-wound in his side;

And who told the story to the assistant surgeon

On the same night that he died.

But the singer feels it will better suit the ballad,
If all should deem it right,

To tell the story as if what it speaks of

Had happened but last night.

"Come a little nearer, doctor,-thank you,-let me take the cup;

Draw your chair up,-draw it closer,-just another little sup!

Maybe you may think I'm better; but I'm pretty well

used up,

Doctor, you've done all you could do, but I'm just agoing up!

"Feel my pulse, sir, if you want to, but it ain't much use to try-"

"Never say that," said the surgeon, as he smothered down a sigh;

"It will never do, old comrade, for a soldier to say die!" "What you say will make no difference, doctor, when you come to die."

"Doctor, what has been the matter?”

faint, they say;

You must try to get some sleep now."

been away?"

"You were very

"Doctor, have I

"Not that anybody knows of!" "Doctor,-doctor,

please to stay!

There is something I must tell you, and you won't have long to stay!

"I have got my marching orders, and I'm ready now to

go;

Doctor, did you say I fainted?-but it could n't ha' been

So,

For as sure as I'm a sergeant, and was wounded at

Shiloh,

I've this very night been back there, on the old field of Shiloh !

"This is all that I remember! The last time the lighter

came,

And the lights had all been lowered, and the noises much the same,

He had not been gone five minutes before something called my name :

'ORDERLY SERGEANT-ROBERT BURTON!' just that way it called my name.

"And I wondered who could call me so distinctly and so slow,

Knew it could n't be the lighter, he could not have spoken

So,

And I tried to answer, 'Here, sir!' but I could n't make

it go!

For I couldn't move a muscle, and I could n't make it

go!

"Then I thought: 'It's all a nightmare, all a humbug and a bore;

Just another foolish grape-vine,-and it won't come any more ;'

But it came, sir, notwithstanding, just the same way as before:

'ORDERLY SERGEANT-ROBERT BURTON!' even plainer than before.

"That is all that I remember, till a sudden burst of

light,

And I stood beside the river, where we stood that Sunday

night,

Waiting to be ferried over to the dark bluffs opposite,

When the river was perdition and all hell was opposite!

"And the same old palpitation came again in all its

power,

And I heard a bugle sounding, as from some celestial

tower;

And the same mysterious voice said: 'IT IS THE ELEVENTH HOUR!

ORDERLY SERGEANT-ROBERT BURTON, IT IS THE ELEVENTH HOUR!'

"Doctor Austin! what day is this?" "It is Wednesday night, you know."

"Yes,-to-morrow will be New Year's, and a right good time below!

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.