FALL IN!

Fall In!

'TIS no time for vain surmising;

Fall in !

While the din of war is rising;
Fall in !

See the cloud of conflict falling,
Though the danger is appalling;
Hark! your country's voice is calling:
Fall in !

Past, the time for speculation;

Fall in!

Peril menaces the nation;

Fall in!

Leave to cravens idle prattle;
Empty vessels loudest rattle!
Trusting in the God of battle;
Fall in!

Waste no precious time in trifles;
Fall in!

Drop all else and grasp your rifles;
Fall in !

Lay your lives on country's altar,
Cursed the craven who would falter,
For the traitor's neck the halter!

Fall in !

Son and sire and grandsire hoary,
Fall in!

Insult stains our grand "Old Glory!"
Fall in!

By our tars 'neath ocean sleeping,
Billowy mounds above them heaping,
By the tears their loved are weeping,
Fall in!

Spirit of the Revolution!

Fall in !

Reinforce our resolution;

Fall in!

North and South now reunited,

Union's covenant replighted,

Fire on Freedom's shrine relighted!

Fall in!

-Frank N. Scott.

THE OLD ARTILLERIST.

The Old Artillerist.

HE never has talked of the war-time and battle, He gives himself wholly to peace and its ways And he loves his small fields and his horses and

cattle,

And the smell of the corn fields through long sum

mer days.

It seems like a dream in his calm daily labors,

That once he fought fiercely where swift bullets

smote,

But always on Sundays at church with his neighbors A little bronze button is worn on his coat.

The sixties had found him where bugles rang charges, Where over the batteries the cavalry rode,

And the smoke of the guns hung along the field's marges

As hotly the battle's tide eddying flowed. His boy's heart had thrilled at the reverberation, As, plying the sponge or the lanyard, he toiled; His smoke-stifled throat throbbed with fierce exultation The while he stood by till the piece had recoiled.

But now!-not a word of the war-time and battle, No tales of the conflict the veteran will tell;

He's at peace in his fields with his horses and cattle,
Who once had been rained on by bullet and shell.
But he chuckles, these days, as he plods at his labors,
Because his two boys have enlisted, and he
Walks straighter and prouder when passing the
neighbors,

For Bill is with Dewey and Jim is with Lee!

GREETING FROM ENGLAND.

Greeting from England.

AMERICA! dear brother land!

While yet the shotted guns are mute, Accept a brotherly salute,

A hearty grip of England's hand.

To-morrow, when the sulphurous glow
Of war shall dim the stars above,
Be sure the star of England's love
Is over you, come weal or woe.

Go forth in hope! Go forth in might!
To all your nobler self be true,
That coming times may see in you
The vanguard of the hosts of light.

Though wrathful justice load and train Your guns, be every breach they make A gateway pierced for mercy's sake That peace may enter in and reign.

Then, should the hosts of darkness band Against you, lowering thunderously, Flash the word "Brother" o'er the sea, And England at your side shall stand,