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was out o’thé place, the divil a toe he'd put inside the ranger's honse; and that shows you the cunnin' o' the baste. Well, as he was sittin' at the fire, what do you think, but he tuk the ranger's pipe off the hob, an’ lights it in the fire, and begins to smoke, as nath’ral as any other man you ever seen.
DE WELSKIN. Smoke! de faux smoke ?
Rory. Oh, yes! all the Irish foxes smoke when they can get 'bakky; and they are mighty fond o’ short-cut when the dogs is afther them! Well, Munseer, the ranger could hardly keep his timper at all, when he seen the baste smokin' his pipe, and with that, says he, it's fire and smoke of another kind I'll give you, my buck, says he, takin' up his gun to shoot him; but the fox had put the gun into a pail o'wather, and, of coorse, the divil a fire the gun would fire for the ranger.
DE WELSKIN. Ha, ha, ha! sacre!
Rory. And the fox put his finger on his nose, just that-a-way, and laughed at him. Wow! wow! says the fox, puttin' out his hand, and takin' up the newspaper to read.
DE WELSKIN. Sacre ! de newspaper ? no, no, my boy.
Rory. Why, man alive, how would the fox know where the hounds was to meet next mornin', if he didn't read the paper ? sure that shows you the cunnin' o' the baste! Well, with that, the ranger puts his fingers to his mouth, and gives a blast of a fwistle you'd hear a mile off, for to call the dogs. Oh! is it for fwistlin' you are ? says the fox; then it's time for me to leave the place, says he, for 'twould not be good for my health to be here when the dogs come back. So he lays down the pipe in the hob; but before he did, I must tell you, he wiped it with the end of his tail—for he was a dacent baste, and lised his tail.as nath'ral as a Christian would use the sleeve of his coat for a cowld in his nose —and then he was goin' to start; but the ranger, seein' him goin' to escape, jumps out o' the bed, and gets betune him and the door, and divil a start you'll start, says he, till the dogs comes back, you red rascal, and I'll have your head in my fist before. long, says he, and that's worth a pound to me. I'll howld you a quart of porther, says the fox, I'll make you lave that. Divil a lave, says the ranger. Wow, wow! says the fox, I'm a match for you yet; and what do you think, but he whips the ranger's breeches off the back o' the chair, and throws them into the fire, and he knew the divil another pair the ranger had to his back.
DE WELSKIN. Ha, ha, ha, by gar!
Rory. That'll make you start, says the fox. Divil a start, says the ranger; my breeches is worth half-a-crown, and your head's worth a pound, so I'll make seventeen and six-pence by the exchange. Well, you are the stupidest vagabone I ever met, says the fox, and I'll make you sensible at last that you must let me go, for I'll burn you out o’house and home, and with that, what do you think the fox done? By all that's good—and the ranger himself told me out iv his own mouth, and said he wud niver have b’lieved it, ownly he seen it—the fox tuk a lighted piece iv a log out o' the blazin'fire, and run over wid it to the ranger's bed, and was going to throw it into the sthraw, and burn him out of house and home; so when the ranger seen that, he gev a shout out iv him—Hillo! hillo! you murtherin villain, says he, you're worse nor Captain Rock; is it going to burn me out you are, you red rogue iv a Ribbonman, and he made a dart betune him and the bed, to save the house from bein' burnt—but, my jewel, that was all the fox wanted—and as soon as the ranger quitted the hole in the door that he was standing forninst, the fox let go the blazin' faggit, and made one jump through the door and escaped. But before he wint, the ranger gev me his oath, that the fox turned round and gev him the most contemptible look he ever got in his life, and shewed ivery tooth in his head with laughin', and at last he put out his tongue at him, as much as to say, You've missed me, like your mammy's blessin', and off wid him, like a flash of lightning
DE WELSKIN. Ah! Rory, you von fonnee Ireesh faux.
THE COMMON SOLDIER.
But the woman who cried on his shoulder.
He was only a private soldier.
Nobody packed him a dainty trunk
Folded raiment and officer's fare;
Nobody gave him a good-bye fête,
With sparkling glass and flower-crowned wine; Two or three friends on the side-walk stood,
Watching for him, the third in line.
Nobody cared how the battle went
With the man who fought, till the bullet sped Through the coat, undecked with leaf or star,
On the common soldier left for dead.
The cool rain bathed the fevered wound,
And the kind clouds wept the livelong night; A pitying lotion nature gave,
Till help might come with morning light.
Such help as the knife of the surgeon gives,—
Cleaving the gallant arm from the shoulder; And another name swells the pension list,
For the pay of a common soldier.
See, over yonder, all day he stands ;
An empty sleeve in the soft wind sways,
For charity, at the crossing ways.
And this is how, with bitter shame,
He begs his bread and hardly lives;
A proud and grateful country gives.
What matter how he served the guns
When plume and sash were over yonder!
Throngh blinding smoke and battle thunder!
What matter though a wife and child
Cry for that good arm rent!
To him, their own beloved, was sent.
Oh, patriot hearts, wipe out this stain !
Give jewelled cups and swords no more: But let no common soldier blushi
To own the loyal blue he wore.
Shout long and loud for vict'ry won
By chief and leader staunch and true; But don't forget the boys that fought
Shout for the common soldier too..
ROMEO IN THE GARDEN-SHAKESPEARE.
D It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!–
As is a winged messenger of heaven
A SECRET.-J. G. SAXE.
I must not tell-
Her sunny hair is wondrous fair,
One little tress-
Her eyes are blue, celestial hue,
On whom they beam
With melting gleam-
Her lips are red, and finely wed,
What lover sips
Those dewy lips-
Her fingers are like lilies fair
Whose hand they press
With fond caress-