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IFLEMAN, shoot me a fancy shot

Straight at the heart of yon prowling vidette;

Ring me a ball in the glittering spot

That shines on his breast like an amulet!"

"Ah, Captain! here goes for a fine-drawn bead There's music around when my barrel's in tune!“ Crack! went the rifle, the messenger sped,

And dead from his horse fell the ringing dragoon.

"Now, Rifleman, steal through the bushes, and snatch From your victim some trinket to handsel first blood

A button, a loop, or that luminous patch

That gleams in the moon like a diamond stud.” "O Captain! I staggered, and sunk on my track, When I gazed on the face of that falien vidette;

For he looked so like you as he lay on his back,
That my heart rose upon me, and masters me yet.
"But I snatched off the trinket-this locket of gold;
An inch from the centre my lead broke its way,
Scarce grazing the picture, so fair to behold,
Of a beautiful lady in bridal array."
"Ha! Rifleman, fling me the locket!-'t is she,
My brother's young bride, and the fallen dragoon
Was her husband-Hush! soldier, 't was Heaven's

decree;

We must bury him here, by the light of the moon! "But, hark! the far bugles their warnings unite; War is a virtue-weakness a sin; There's lurking and loping around us to-night; Load again, Rifleman, keep your hand in!" CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY.

D

"HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY?"

OWN the picket-guarded lane
Rolled the comfort-laden wain,
Cheered by shouts that shook the plain,

Soldier-like and merry:

Phrases such as camps may teach,

Sabre-cuts of Saxon speech,

Such as "Bully!" "Them's the peach!"

"Wade in, Sanitary!"

Right and left the caissons drew
As the car went lumbering through,
Quick succeeding in review

Squadrons military;

Sunburnt men with beards like frieze, Smooth-faced boys, and cries like these,"U. S. San. Com." "That's the cheese!' "Pass in, Sanitary!"

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When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn, Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground,

He rode down the length of the withering column,

And his heart at our war-cry leapt up with a bound; He snuffed, like his charger, the wind of our powder,— His sword waved us on and we answered the sign: Lond our cheer as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder,

"There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!"

How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten

In the one hand still left, and the reins in his teeth!

He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten, But a soldier's glance shot from his visor beneath.

Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal, Asking where to go in,-through the clearing or pine?

"O, anywhere! Forward! "Tis all the same, Colonel: You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!"

O, evil the black shroud of night at Chantilly,
That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried!
Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped the white lily,
The flower of our knighthood, the whole army's.

pride!

Yet we dream that he still,- in that shadowy region Where the dead form their ranks at the wan drum

mer's sign,—

Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion,
And the word still is Forward! along the whole
line.
EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.

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For it shone like solid sunshine; and a winding stair of light

Wound around it and around it till it wound clear out of sight!

"And, behold, as I approached it — with a rapt and dazzled stare,

Thinking that I saw old comrades just ascending the great stair,

Suddenly the solemn challenge broke of 'Halt!' and "Who goes there?'

‘I'm a friend,' I said, ‘if you are!' 'Then advance, sir, to the Stair!'

"I advanced! That sentry, doctor, was Elijah Ballantyne!

First of all to fall on Monday, after we had formed the line!

'Welcome, my old Sergeant, welcome! Welcome by that countersign!'

And he pointed to the scar there, under this old cloak of mine.

"As he grasped my hand I shuddered, thinking only of the grave;

But he smiled and pointed upward, with a bright and bloodless glaive:

"That's the way, sir, to Headquarters.' 'What Headquarters?' 'Of the Brave!'

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SHERIDAN'S RIDE.

P from the South at break of day
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,
The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.

And wider still those billows of war
Thundered along the horizon's bar;
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold,

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.

But there is a road from Winchester town,
A good, broad highway leading down;

And there through the flush of the morning lig'
A steed as black as the steeds of night
Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight.
As if he knew the terrible need,
He stretched away with his utmost speed;
Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay,
With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

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