"There was where Lew Wallace showed them he was of

the canny kin;

There was where old Nelson thundered, and where Rousseau waded in;

There McCook sent 'em to breakfast, and we all began to win;

There was where the grape-shot took me, just as we began to win.

"Now a shroud of snow and silence over everything was

spread;

And but for this old blue mantle and the old hat on my

head,

I should not have even doubted, to this moment,

dead,

I was

For my footsteps were as silent as the snow upon the

dead!

"Death and silence!-death and silence! all around me

as I sped!

And behold a mighty tower, as if builded to the dead, To the heaven of the heavens, lifted up its mighty head, Till the stars and stripes of heaven all seemed waving from its head!

"Round and mighty-based it towered,-up into the infinite,―

And I knew no mortal mason could have built a shaft so bright;

For it shone like solid sunshine; and a winding stair of

light

Wound around it and around it till it wound clear out

of sight!

"And, behold, as I approached it, with a rapt and daz

zled stare,

Thinking that I saw old comrades just ascending the great stair,

Suddenly the solemn challenge broke of Halt, and who goes there?'

'I'm a friend,' I said, 'if you are.' 'Then advance, sir, to the stair!'

"I advanced!-That sentry, doctor, was Elijah Ballantyne!

First of all to fall on Monday, after we had formed the line!

'Welcome, my old sergeant, welcome! Welcome by that countersign!'

And he pointed to the scar there, under this old cloak of mine!

"As he grasped my hand, I shuddered, thinking only of the grave;

But he smiled and pointed upward with a bright and bloodless glaive;

That's the way, sir, to head-quarters!' 'What headquarters?' 'Of the brave!'

'But the great tower?' 'That,' he answered, 'is the way, sir, of the brave!'

"Then a sudden shame came o'er me at his uniform of

light;

At my own so old and tattered, and at his so new and

bright.

"Ah!' said he, 'you have forgotten the new uniform to

night,

Hurry back, for you must be here at just twelve o'clock to-night!'

"And the next thing I remember, you were sitting there,

and I

Doctor,-did you hear a footstep? Hark!-God bless you all! Good-by!

Doctor, please to give my musket and my knapsack, when I die,

To my son-my son that's coming he won't get here till

I die!

"Tell him his old father blessed him as he never did

before,

And to carry that old musket-”

the door

Hark! a knock is at

"Till the Union-" See! it opers! "Father! Father! speak once more!”

"Bless you!" gasped the old gray sergeant,—and he lay and said no more!-FOBCEYTHE WILLSON.

FATHER PHIL'S COLLECTION.

FATHER

ATHER BLAKE was more familiarly known by the name of Father Phil. By either title, or in whatever capacity, the worthy father had great influence over his parish, and there was a free-and-easy way with him, even in doing the most solemn duties, which agreed wonderfully with the devil-may-care spirit of Paddy. Stiff and starched formality in any way is repugnant to the very nature of Irishmen. There are forms, it is true, and many, in the Romish church, but they are not cold forms, but attractive rather, to a sensitive people: besides, I believe those very forms, when observed the least, formally, are the most influential on the Irish.

With all his intrinsic worth, Father Phil was, at the same time, a strange man in exterior manners; for, with an abundance of real piety, he had an abruptness of delivery, and a strange way of mixing up an occasional remark to his congregation in the midst of the celebration of the mass, which might well startle a stranger; but this very want of formality made him beloved by the people, and they would do ten times as much for Father Phil as for the severe Father Dominick.

On the Sunday in question Father Phil intended delivering an address to his flock from the altar, urging them to the necessity of bestirring themselves in the repairs of the chapel, which was in a very dilapidated condition, and at one end let in the rain through its worn-out thatch. A subscription was necessary; and to raise this among a very impoverished people was no easy matter. The weather happened to be unfavorable, which was most favorable to Father Phil's purpose, for the rain dropped its arguments through the roof upon the kneeling people below, in the most convincing manner; and as they endeavored to get out of the wet, they pressed round the altar as much as they could, for which they were reproved very smartly by his reverence in the very midst of the mass. These interruptions occurred sometimes in the most serious places, producing a ludicrous effect, of which the worthy father was quite unconscious, in his great anxiety to make the people repair the chapel.

A big woman was elbowing her way towards the rails of the altar, and Father Phil, casting a side-long glance at her, sent her to the right-about, while he interrupted his appeal to Heaven to address her thus:

"Agnus Dei-You'd betther jump over the rails of the. althar, I think. Go along out o' that, there's plenty o' room in the chapel below there—”

Then he would turn to the altar, and proceed with the service, till, turning again to the congregation, he perceived some fresh offender.

"Oráte, fratres !-Will you mind what I say to you, and go along out o' that, there's room below there. Thrue for you, Mrs. Finn-it's a shame for him to be tramplin' or you. Go along, Darby Casy, down there, and kneel in the rain—it's a pity you haven't a decent woman's cloak under you indeed!-Orate, fratres!"

Then would the service proceed again, till the shuffling of feet edging out of the rain would disturb him, and, casting a backward glance, he would say—

"I hear you there-can't you be quiet, and not be disturbin' my mass, you haythens?"

Again he proceeded, till the crying of a child interrupted him. He looked around quickly

"You'd betther kill the child, I think, thramplin' on him, Lavery. Go out o' that-your conduct is scandalous-Dominus vobiscum!"

Again he turned to pray, and after some time he made an interval in the service to address his congregation on the subject of the repairs, and produced a paper containing the names of subscribers to that pious work who had already contributed, by way of example to those who had not.

"Here it is," said Father Phil-" here it is, and no denying it-down in black and white; but if they who give are down in black, how much blacker are those who have not given at all! But I hope they will be ashamed of themselves when I howld up those to honor who have contributed to the uphowlding of the house of God. And isn't it ashamed o' yourselves you ought to be, to lave His house in such a condition? And does n't it rain a'most every Sunday, as if He wished to remind you of