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:
"Deane carried our Regiment's colors," he said;
"Where our Ensign was shot, I left him dead,
Just after the enemy wavered and broke."
"Close to the road-side his body lies;

I paused a moment and gave him to drink;
He murmured his mother's name, I think,
And Death came with it and closed his eyes."

'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;
Nothin' too big an' nothin' too nice,
Nothin' she would n't sacrifice

For one she loved; an' that 'ere one
Was herself, when all was said an' done.

An' Charley an' 'Becca meant well, no doubt,
But any one could pull 'em about.

An' all our folks ranked well, you see,
Save one poor fellow, and that was me
An' when, one dark an' rainy night,
A neighbor's horse went out of sight,
They hitched on me as the guilty chap
That carried one end o' the halter-strap.
An' I think, myself, that view of the case
Was n't altogether out o' place;
My mother denied it, as mothers do,
But I'm inclined to believe 't was true.

Though for me one thing might be said
That I, as well as the horse, was led ;
And the worst of whisky spurred me on,

Or else the deed would have never been done.
But the keenest grief I ever felt,

Was when my mother beside me knelt,
An' cried an' prayed till I melted down,
As I would n't for half the horses in town.

I kissed her fondly, then and there,

An' swore henceforth to be honest and square.

I served my sentence - a bitter pill
Some fellows should take, who never will;
And then I decided to "go out West,"
Concludin''t would suit my health the best;
Where, how I-prospered, I never could tell,
But Fortune seemed to like me well,
An' somehow, every vein I struck
Was always bubblin' over with luck;
An' better than that, I was steady an' true,
An' put my good resolutions through.

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,
An' thanked the Lord till I fairly cried.
An' maybe our ride was n't pleasant and gay,
An' maybe she was n't wrapped up that day;
An' maybe our cottage was n't warm and bright;
An' maybe it wasn't a pleasant sight,
To see her agettin' the evenin's tea,
An' frequently stoppin' and kissin' me;
An' maybe we did n't live happy for years,
In spite of my brothers' and sisters' sneers,
Who often said, as I have heard,
That they would n't own a prison bird
(Though they're gettin' over that, I guess,
For all of them owe me more or less ;)

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
Gets over a fellow's name or not,
Whenever he does a deed that's white
It's credited to him fair and right.

An' when you hear the great bugle's notes,
An' the Lord divides his sheep and goats;
However they may settle my case,

Wherever they may fix my place,

My good old Christian mother, you'll see,
Will be sure to stand right up for me.

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;
Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale,
Darling Minnie! I see her yet.

She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands,
And fearlessly entered the phantom bark ;
We felt it glide from the silver sands,

And all our sunshine grew strangely dark.
We know she is safe on the farther side,
Where all the ransomed and angels be,
Over the river, the mystic river,

My childhood's idol is waiting for me.
And I sit and think, when the sunset's gold
Is flushing river, and hill, and shore,

I shall one day stand by the water cold,
And list for the sound of the boatman's oar;

I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail,
I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand,

I shall pass from sight, with the boatman pale,
To the better shore of the spirit land.

I shall know the loved, who have gone before,
And joyfully sweet will the meeting be,
When over the river, the peaceful river,
The angel of death shall carry me.