"I've been in many an ugly scrape in my time, but I never felt 'arf as bad as I did then. Every minute seemed as long as a dozen; and the tick o' the mate's watch, reg'lar, pricked my ears like a pin.

"Eight minutes,' says the mate, his great, deep voice breakin' in upon the silence like the toll o' a funeral bell. 'If you've got anything to confess, my lad, you'd best out with it, for ye're time's nearly up.'

"I've told you the truth,' answers the boy, very pale, but as firm as ever. 'May I say my prayers, please?'

"The mate nodded; and down goes the poor little chap on his knees and puts up his poor little hands to pray. I couldn't make out what he said, but I'll be bound God heard it every word. Then he ups on his feet again, and puts his hands behind him, and says to the mate quite quietly: 'I'm ready.'

"And then, sir, the mate's hard, grim face broke up all to once, like I've seed the ice in the Baltic. He snatched up the boy in his arms, and kissed him, and burst out acryin' like a child; and I think there warn't one of us as didn't do the same. I know I did for one.

"God bless you, my boy!' says he, smoothin' the child's hair with his great hard hand. 'You're a true Englishman, every inch of you; you wouldn't tell a lie to save yer life! Well, if so be as yer father's cast yer off, I'll be yer father from this day forth; and if I ever forget you, then may God forget me!'

"And he kep' his word, too. When we got to Halifax, he found out the little un's aunt, and gev' her a lump o' money to make him comfortable; and now he goes to see the youngster every voyage, as reg'lar as can be; and to see the pair on 'em together-the little chap so fond of him, and

not bearin' him a bit o' grudge-it's 'bout as pretty a sight as ever I seed. And now, sir, axin' yer parding, it's time for me to be goin' below; so I'll just wish yer goodnight."

ARNOLD WINKELREID

BY JAMES MONTGOMERY

"Make way for Liberty!"-he cried;
Made way for liberty, and died!

In arms the Austrian phalanx stood,
A living wall, a human wood!
Impregnable their front appears,
All horrent with projected spears.
Opposed to these, a hovering band
Contended for their fatherland;

Peasants whose new-found strength had broke
From manly necks the ignoble yoke:

Marshaled once more at Freedom's call,

They came to conquer or to fall.

And now the work of life and death

Hung in the passing of a breath;
The fire of conflict burned within;
The battle trembled to begin;

Yet, while the Austrians held their ground,
Point for assault was nowhere found;
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed,

The unbroken line of lances blazed;

That line 't were suicide to meet
And perish at their tyrants' feet.
And could they rest within their graves,
To leave their homes the haunts of slaves?
Would they not feel their children tread
With clanking chains, above their head?

It must not be: this day, this hour,
Annihilates the invaders' power.
All Switzerland is in the field,
She will not fly; she cannot yield;
She must not fall; her better fate
Here gives her an immortal date.
Few were the numbers she could boast;
But every freeman was a host,
And felt as 't were a secret known
That one should turn the scale alone:
While each unto himself was he
On whose sole arm hung victory.

It did depend on one, indeed;
Behold him-Arnold Winkelreid;
There sounds not to the trump of Fame
The echo of a nobler name.

Unmarked, he stood among the throng,
In rumination deep and long,

Till you might see, with sudden grace,
The very thought come o'er his face;
And, by the motion of his form,
Anticipate the bursting storm;
And, by the uplifting of his brow,

Tell where the bolt would strike and how.

But 't was no sooner thought than done-
The field was in a moment won!

"Make way for liberty!" he cried:
Then ran with arms extended wide,
As if his dearest friend to clasp;
Ten spears he swept within his grasp.
"Make way for Liberty!" he cried;
Their keen points met from side to side,
He bowed among them like a tree,
And thus made way for Liberty.

Swift to the breach his comrades fly-
"Make way for Liberty!" they cry;
And through the Austrian phalanx dart,
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart;
While, instantaneous as his fall,
Rout, ruin, panic scattered all:

An earthquake could not overthrow
A city with a surer blow.

Thus Switzerland again was free;
Thus Death made way for Liberty.

ON THE RAPPAHANNOCK

The sun had set, and in the distant West
The last red streaks had faded; night and rest
Fell on the earth; stilled was the cannon's roar;
And many a soldier slept! to wake no more.
'Twas early Spring—a calm and lovely night—
The moon had flooded all the earth with light.

On either side the Rappahannock lay
The armies; resting till the break of day
Should call them to renew the fight. So near
Together were the camps that each could hear
The other's sentry call. And now appear
The blazing bivouac fires on every hill,
And save the tramp of pickets all is still.
Between those silent hills in beauty flows
The Rappahannock. How its bosom glows!
How all its sparkling waves reflect the light
And add new glories to the starlit night.
But hark! From Northern hill there steal along
The strains of martial music mixed with song:
"Star Spangled Banner, may'st thou ever wave,
Over the land we shed our blood to save!"

And still they sing those words: "Our cause is just.
We'll triumph in the end; in God we trust;
Star Spangled Banner, wave, forever wave,
Over a land united, free and brave!"
Scarce had this died away when all along
The river rose another glorious song:

A thousand lusty throats the chorus sing:
With "Rally Round the Flag," the hilltops ring.
And well they sang. Each heart was filled with joy.
From first in rank to little drummer-boy.

Then loud huzzas and wildest cheers were given,
That seemed to cleave the air and reach to heaven.
The Union songs, the loud and heartfelt cheers
Fall in the Southern camp on listening ears.
While talking at their scanty evening meal
They pause and grasp their trusty blades of steel.
Fearless they stand and ready for the fray;