They came "the boys!" Six feet in stature,
Graceful, easy, polished men;

I vowed to Lou, behind my knitting,
To trust no mother's words again.

For boyhood is a thing immortal
To every mother's heart and eye;
And sons are boys to her forever,
Change as they may to you and I.

To her, no line comes sharply marking
Whither or when their childhood went;
Nor when the eyeglass upward turning,
Leveled at last their downward bent.

Now by the window, still and sunny,
Warmed by the rich October glow,
The dear old lady waits and watches,
Just as she waited years ago.

For Lou and I are now her daughters-
We married "those two country-boys,"
In spite of all our sad forebodings
About their awkward ways and noise.

Lou springs up to meet a footfall;
I list no more for coming feet:
Mother and I are waiting longer
For steps on Beulah's golden street.
But when she blesses Lou's beloved,
And seals it with a tender kiss,
I know that loving words go upward,
Words to another world than this.

Alway she speaks in gentle fashion
About "my boys"-she always will;
Though one is gray, and one has vanished
Beyond the touch of time or ill.

AFTER THE BATTLE.

"Brave Captain! canst thou speak? What is it thou dost see? A wondrous glory lingers on thy face,

The night is past; I've watched the night with thee.

Knowest thou the place?"

"The place?" 'Tis Fair Oaks, comrade. Is the battle over? The victory-the victory-is it won?

My wound is mortal; I know I cannot recover-
The battle for me is done!

"I never thought it would come to this! Does it rain? The musketry! Give me a drink; ah, that is glorious! Now if it were not for this pain-this pain

Didst thou say victorious?

"It would not be strange, would it, if I do wander?
A man can't remember with a bullet in his brain.
I wish when at home I had been a little fonder-
Shall I ever be well again?

"It can make no difference whether I go from here or there Thou'lt write to father and tell him when I am dead?— The eye that sees the sparrow fall numbers every hair

Even of this poor head.

"Tarry awhile, comrade, the battle can wait for thee;
I will try to keep thee but a few brief moments longer;
Thou'lt say good-by to the friends at home for me?-
If only I were a little stronger!

"I must not think of it. Thou art sorry for me?
The glory is it the glory?-makes me blind;
Strange, for the light, comrade, the light I cannot see-
Thou hast been very kind!

"I do not think I have done so very much evilI did not mean it. 'I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul-just a little rude and uncivilComrade, why dost thou weep?

"Oh! if human pity is so gentle and tender

Good-night, good friends! 'I lay me down to sleep'— Who from a Heavenly Father's love needs a defender? 'My soul to keep!'

"If I should die before I wake'-comrade, tell mother,
Remember I pray the Lord my soul to take!'
My musket thou'lt carry back to my little brother
For my dear sake.

"Attention, company! Reverse arms! Very well, men; my thanks.

Where am I? Do I wander, comrade-wander again?-Parade is over. Company E, break ranks! break ranks!---I know it is the pain.

แ

"Give me thy strong hand; fain would I cling, comrade, to

thee;

I feel a chill air blown from a far-off shore;

My sight revives; Death stands and looks at me.
What waits he for?

"Keep back my ebbing pulse till I be bolder grown;
I would know something of the Silent Land;
It's hard to struggle to the front, alone--

Comrade, thy hand.

"The reveille calls! be strong my soul, and peaceful; The Eternal City bursts upon my sight!

The ringing air with ravishing melody is full

I've won the fight!

Nay, comrade, let me go; hold not my hand so steadfast;
I am commissioned--under marching orders-

I know the Future-let the Past be past-
I cross the borders."

ANGER AND ENUMERATION.-JAMES M. BAILEY.

"THE DANBURY NEWS MAN."

A Danbury man named Reubens, recently saw a statement that counting one hundred when tempted to speak an angry word would save a man a great deal of trouble. This statement sounded a little singular at first, but the more he read it over the more favorably he became impressed with it, and finally concluded to adopt it.

Next door to Reubens lives a man who has made five distinct attempts in the past fortnight to secure a dinner of green peas, by the first of July, and every time has been retarded by Reuben's hens. The next morning after Reubens made his resolution this man found his fifth attempt to have miscarried. Then he called on Reubens. He said,"What in thunder do you mean by letting your hens tear up my garden?"

Reubens was prompted to call him a mud-snoot, a new name just coming into general use, but he remembered his resolution, put down his rage, and meekly observed,

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—”

Then the mad neighbor who had been eyeing this answer with a great deal of suspicion, broke in again,—

"Why don't you answer my question, you rascal?"

But still Reubens maintained his equanimity, and went on with the test.

"Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, six. teen-"

The mad neighbor stared harder than ever.

"Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one-" "You're a mean skunk," said the mad neighbor, backing toward the fence.

Reubens's face flushed at this charge, but he only said,"Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six-"

At this figure the neighbor got up on the fence in some haste, but suddenly thinking of his peas, he opened his mouth,

"You mean, low-lived rascal; for two cents I could knock your cracked head over a barn, and I would-"

"Twenty-seven, twenty-eight," interrupted Reubens, "twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three—”

Here the neighbor broke for the house, and entering it, violently slammed the door behind him; but Reubens did not dare let up on the enumeration, and so he stood out there alone in his own yard, and kept on counting, while his burning cheeks and flashing eyes eloquently affirmed his judgment. When he got up into the eighties his wife came to the door in some alarm.

"Why, Reubens, man, what is the matter with you?" she said. "Do come into the house."

But he didn't let up. She came out to him, and clung tremblingly to him, but he only looked into her eyes, and said,

"Ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninetyseven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred-go into the house, old woman, or I'll bust ye."

And she went.

FFF*

THE SHADOW ON THE WALL.

There is a shadow on the wall,

Which comes between my rest and me;
No sound upon mine ear doth fall,
There is no living form to see;
But there's the shadow in my way,
Which never leaves me night or day.

I strive to shut it from my sight,
But conscience tells me it is there;
I kneel beside my bed at night-

Nor heart-nor tongue-can utter prayer;
For there's the shadow in my way,
Which will not let me sleep or pray.

I wander, listless, through the street,
I sit upon this lowly tomb:

There, many a well-known face I meet-
Here, all is solitude and gloom;
But there and here, by night and day,
That shadow rises pale and gray.

It is her shadow that I see.

Her shadow! Oh, so young and fair!
She was too angel-pure for me,

My heart too black for her to share;
But yet I strove her love to win,
And striving, steeped my soul in sin.

How many years! how many years
(I dare not count them if I could ;)
Has the remembrance of her tears
Come up before me like a flood!
But ah! nor dove, nor brightening sky,
Brings peace or promise from on high.

*

We stood upon the river's edge,
He, she, and I-we three alone;
A lily blossomed near the sedge,

The sunlight on its petals shone;
He forward stepped-the dazzling light,
The treach'rous sedge, deceived his sight.
He slipped and fell: he could not swim:
And thus entangled by the weeds
Which grew all round and under him,
He snatched in vain the bending reeds:
Then deeper-deeper-deeper sank,
While she stood helpless on the bank.