Part 25 (1/2)

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead.

Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air; Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair.

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives, Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, May reach her where she lives.

Not as a child shall we again behold her; For when with raptures wild In our embraces we again enfold her, She will not be a child;

But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, Clothed with celestial grace; And beautiful with all the soul's expansion Shall we behold her face.

And though at times impetuous with emotion And anguish long suppressed, The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, That cannot be at rest,--

We will be patient and a.s.suage the feeling We may not wholly stay; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way.

AN AFFECTIONATE LETTER.

_Tipperary, Ireland, September the ten._

MY DEAR NEPHEW:

I have not heard anything of you sens the last time I wrote ye. I have moved from the place where I now live, or I should have written to you before. I did not know where a letter might find you first, but I now take my pen in hand to drop you a few lines, to inform you of the death of your own living uncle, Kilpatrick. He died very suddenly after a long illness of six months. Poor man, he suffered a great deal. He lay a long time in convulsions, perfectly quiet and speechless, and all the time talking incoherently and inquiring for water.

I'm much at a loss to tell you what his death was occasioned by, but the doctor thinks it was caused by his last sickness, for he was not well ten days during his confinement.

His age ye know jist as well as I can tell ye; he was 25 years old last March, lacking fifteen months; and if he had lived till this time he would be just six months dead.

N. B. Take notis. I inclose to you a tin pound note, which ye father sends to ye unbeknown to me. Your mother often speaks of ye; she would like to send ye the brindle cow, and I would inclose her to ye but for the horns.

I would beg of ye not to break the sale of this letter until two or three days after ye read it, for thin ye will be better prepared for the sorrowful news.

PATRICK O'BRANIGAN.

To Michael Glancy, No. -- Broad Street, United States of Ameriky, State of Ma.s.sachusetts, in Boston.

THE WHISTLING REGIMENT.

BY JAMES CLARENCE HARVEY.

[In the recitation which follows, the effect can be heightened by an accompaniment of the piano and by the whistling of strains from Annie Laurie, adapting the style to the sentiment of the verses.

The melody should be played very softly, except where the battle is alluded to, and the whistling should be so timed that the last strain of Annie Laurie may end with the words, ”would lay me down and die.” The beat of the drums can be introduced with good effect, but it is better to omit it unless it can be done skilfully.

It is well to state before reciting, that the escape described is not entirely imaginary as many prisoners made their way through underground pa.s.sages from rebel prisons, during the Civil War. An asterisk (*) at the end of a line denotes where the whistling should commence, and a dagger (*t) where it should cease.]

When the North and South had parted, and the boom of the signal gun Had wakened the Northern heroes, for the great deeds to be done, When the nation's cry for soldiers had echoed o'er hill and dale, When hot youth flushed with courage, while the mother's cheeks turned pale, In the woods of old New England, as the day sank down the west, A loved one stood beside me, her brown head on my breast.

From the earliest hours of childhood our paths had been as one, Her heart was in my keeping, though I knew not when 'twas won; We had learned to love each other, in a half unspoken way, But it ripened to full completeness when the parting came, that day; Not a tear in the eyes of azure, but a deep and fervent prayer, That seemed to say: ”G.o.d bless you, and guard you, everywhere.”

At the call for volunteers, her face was like drifted snow, She read in my eyes a question and her loyal heart said, ”Go.”

As the roll of the drums drew nearer, through the leaves of the rustling trees,*

The strains of Annie Laurie were borne to us, on the breeze.

Then I drew her pale face nearer and said: ”Brave heart and true, Your tender love and prayers shall bring me back to you.”

And I called her _my_ Annie Laurie and whispered to her that I For her sweet sake was willing--to lay me down and die.

And I said: ”Through the days of danger, that little song shall be Like a pa.s.s word from this hillside, to bring your love to me.”[*t]

Oh! many a time, at nightfall, in the very shades of death, When the picket lines were pacing their rounds with bated breath,*