"Will they do it?"

"Dare they do it?”

"Who is speaking?" "What's the news?" "What of Sherman?"

"What of Adams?"

Oh, God grant they won't refuse!"

"Make some way there!" "Let me nearer !”

"I am stifling!" Stifle, then!

When a nation's life 's at hazard,
We've no time to think of men!"

So they beat against the portal,

Man and woman, maid and child; And the July sun in heaven

On the scene looked down and smiledThe same sun that saw the Spartan

Shed his patriot blood in vain,

Now beheld the soul of freedom,
All unconquered, rise again.

Hushed the people's swelling murmur,
List the boy's exultant cry!
"Ring!" he shouts, "Ring! grandpa,
Ring! oh, ring for Liberty!"
Quickly at the given signal

The old bellman lifts his hand,
Forth he sends the good news, making
Iron music through the land.

How they shouted! What rejoicing!
How the old bell shook the air,
Till the clang of freedom ruffled
The calmly gliding Delaware!

How the bonfires and the torches
Lighted up the night's repose,

And, from the flames, like fabled Phoenix,
Our glorious Liberty arose!

That old State-House bell is silent,

Hush'd is now its clamorous tongue;
But the spirit it awaken'd

Still is living—ever young;

And when we greet the smiling sunlight
On the fourth of each July,

We will ne'er forget the bellman
Who, betwixt the earth and sky,
Rung out, loudly, "Independence;"
Which, please God, shall never die!

THE UNION.

"Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!"-WEBSTER.

THE

HE Union! The Union! The hope of the free!
Howsoe'er we may differ, in this we agree:

Our glorious banner no traitor shall mar

By effacing a stripe, or destroying a star!

Division! No, never! The Union forever!

And cursed be the hand that our country would sever!

The Union! The Union! 'Twas purchased with blood!

Side by side, to secure it, our forefathers stood:

From the North to the South, through the length of the land, Ran the war-cry which summon'd that patriot band!

Division! No, never! The Union forever!

And cursed be the hand that our country would sever!

The Union! The Union! At Lexington first,
Through the clouds of oppression, its radiance burst:
But at Yorktown roll'd back the last vapory crest,
And, a bright constellation, it blazed in the West!
Division! No, never! The Union forever!

And cursed be the hand that our country would sever!

The Union! The Union! Its heavenly light

Cheers the hearts of the nations who grope in the night-
And, athwart the wide ocean, falls, gilding the tides,

A path to the country where Freedom abides!
Division! No, never! The Union forever!

And cursed be the hand that our country would sever!

The Union! The Union! In God we repose!
We confide in the Power that vanquish'd our foes!
The God of our fathers-oh, still may He be
The strength of the Union, the hope of the free!
Division! No, never! The Union forever!
And cursed be the hand that our country would sever!

TH

LINCOLN AT SPRINGFIELD.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom."

HERE stood a man in the West Countrie,
Slender and tall, and gaunt was he;

His form was not cast in a courtier's mould,
But his eye was bright, and his bearing bold.
A crowd had gather'd to hear him speak,
And the blood surged up in his sunburn'd cheek;
Familiar with toil was his outstretch'd hand,
For a man of the people was he,

Who had learn'd to obey ere call'd to command:
Such men are the pride of the West Countrie.

"My friends

elected by your choice,

From the long-cherish'd home I go,
Endear'd by heaven-permitted joys,

Sacred by heaven-permitted woe.

I go, to take the helm of state,
While loud the waves of faction roar,
And by His aid, supremely great,
Upon whose will all tempests wait,
I hope to steer the bark to shore.

Not since the days when Washington
To battle led our patriots on,

Have clouds so dark above us met,
Have dangers dire so close beset.

"And he had never saved the land
By deeds in human wisdom plann'd,
But that with Christian faith he sought
Guidance and blessing where he ought.
Like him, I seek for aid divine —

His faith, his hope, his trust, are mine.
Pray for me, friends, that God may make
My. judgment clear, my duty plain;

For if the Lord no wardship take,

The watchmen mount the towers in vain."

He ceased; and many a manly breast
Panted with strong emotion's swell,
And many a lip the sob suppress'd,
And tears from manly eyelids fell.
And hats came off, and heads were bow'd,
As Lincoln slowly moved away;

And then, heart-spoken, from the crowd,
In accents earnest, clear, and loud,

Came one brief sentence: "We will pray!"

BILL AND JOE.

HOME, dear old comrade, you and I

Will steal an hour from days gone by

The shining days when life was new,
And all was bright as morning dew,
The lusty days of long ago,

When you were Bill and I was Joe.

Your name may flaunt a titled trail,
Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail;
And mine as brief appendix wear
As Tam O'Shanter's luckless mare;

To-day, old friend, remember still

That I am Joe and you are Bill.

You've won the great world's envied prize, And grand you look in people's eyes,

With HON. and L L. D.,

In big brave letters, fair to see

Your fist, old fellow! off they go!—
How are you, Bill? How are you, Joe?

You've worn the judge's ermine robe;
You've taught your name to half the globe;
You've sung mankind a deathless strain;
You've made the dead past live again:
The world may call you what it will,
But you and I are Joe and Bill.

The chaffing young folks stare and say,
"See those old buffers, bent and gray;
They talk like fellows in their teens!
Mad, poor old boys! That's what it means"
And shake their heads; they little know
The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe-

How Bill forgets his hour of pride,
While Joe sits smiling at his side;
How Joe, in spite of time's disguise,
Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes -
Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill
As Joe looks fondly up at Bill.

Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame?
A fitful tongue of leaping flame;
A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust,
That lifts a pinch of mortal dust:
A few swift years, and who can show
Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe?

The weary idol takes his stand,

Holds out his bruised and aching hand,