For the foe had crossed, from the other side, That day in the face of a murderous fire, That swept them down in its terrible ire; And their life-blood went to color the tide. "Herbert Kline !" At the call, there came Two stalwart soldiers into the line, Bearing between them this Herbert Kline, Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name. "Ezra Kerr!"- and a voice answered, "Here!" "Hiram Kerr!"- but no man replied. They were brothers, these two, the sad winds sighed, And a shudder crept through the cornfield near. "Ephraim Deane !"- then a soldier spoke: I paused a moment and gave him to drink; 'T was a victory; yes, but it cost us dear, For that company's roll, when called at night, Of a hundred men who went into the fight, Numbered but twenty that answered "Here!" OVER THE HILL FROM THE POOR HOUSE.* As for Susan, her heart was kind An' good-what there was of it, mind; For one she loved; an' that 'ere one An' Charley an' 'Becca meant well, no doubt, An' all our folks ranked well, you see, Though for me one thing might be said Or else the deed would have never been done. Was when my mother beside me knelt, I kissed her fondly, then and there, An' swore henceforth to be honest and square. I served my sentence - a bitter pill But I wrote to a trusty old neighbor, an' said, "You tell 'em, old fellow, that I am dead, She did n't faint; she knelt by my side, But I've learned one thing, and it cheers a man In always a-doin' the best he can : That whether, on the big book, a blot An' when you hear the great bugle's notes, Wherever they may fix my place, My good old Christian mother, you'll see, So over the hill from the poor house! OVER THE RIVER. BY NANCY AMELIA PRIEST. VER the river they beckon to me, Loved ones who've crossed to the farther side; The gleam of their snowy robes I see, But their voices are lost in the dashing tide. There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue; He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. We saw not the angels who met him there, The gates of the city we could not see; Over the river, over the river, My brother stands waiting to welcome me. Over the river, the boatman pale Carried another, the household pet; She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. My childhood's idol is waiting for me. I shall one day stand by the water cold, I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail, I shall pass from sight, with the boatman pale, I shall know the loved, who have gone before, |