And every maid, with simple art, Wears on her breast, like her own heart, There, veil'd in all the sweets that are Touch'd with the sweet shrub's spicy blossom, To let her pass, a blooming aisle, The pastor came; his snowy locks Forgive the student Edgar there And if his thoughts soar'd not beyond, When came the service low response, Mid bells of iron and of bronze. At times, perchance,-oh, happy chance!— Casting a dewy greeting glance. For once be Love, young Love, forgiven, He brought the blossoms of romance, The pastor rose; the prayer was strong; Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed Rose, as it seem'd, a shoulder higher; A moment there was awful pause, When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor! cease! God's temple is the house of peace!" And now before the open door— The warrior priest had order'd so— So loud and clear, it seem'd the ear And every word its ardor flung From off its jubilant iron tongue "Who dares ?"-this was the patriot's cry, For her to live, for her to die?" Before Vicksburg. (MAY 19, 1863.) THE President has recently appointed to the Naval School at Newport a little drummer-boy of the 55th Illinois Volunteers, whose case was brought before him by MajorGeneral W. T. Sherman in the following letter. Truly, the letter does as much honor to the distinguished majorgeneral, who could pause in the midst of the duties of a great campaign to pay such tribute to a drummer-boy, as it does to the little hero whom it celebrates : "HEAD-QUARTERS 15TH ARMY CORPS, "CAMP ON BIG BLACK RIVER, August 8, 1863. "HON. E. M. STANTON, Secretary of War :— } "SIR:-I take the liberty of asking through you that something be done for a lad named Orion P. Howe, of Waukegan, Illinois, who belongs to the 55th Illinois, but at present at home wounded. I think he is too young for West Point, but would be the very thing for a midshipman. "When the assault at Vicksburg was at its height, on the 19th of May, and I was in front near the road, which formed my line of attack, this young lad came up to me, wounded and bleeding, with a good, healthy boy's cry, 'General Sherman, send some cartridges to Colonel Malmborg: the men are nearly all out.' 'What is the matter, my boy?' "They shot me in the leg, sir; but I can go to the hospital. Send the cartridges right away.' Even where we stood the shot fell thick, and I told him to go to the rear at once, I would attend to the cartridges; and off he limped. Just before he disappeared on the hill, he turned, and called, as loud as he could, Calibre 54.' I have not seen the lad since, and his colonel (Malmborg), on inquiry, gives me the address as above, and says he is a bright, intelligent boy, with a fair preliminary education. "What arrested my attention then was-and what renewed my memory of the fact now is—that one so young, carrying a musket-ball through his leg, should have found his way to me on that fatal spot, and delivered his message, not forgetting the very important part, even, of the calibre of his musket,-54,which, you know, is an unusual one. "I'll warrant that the boy has in him the elements of a man, and I commend him to the Government as one worthy the fostering care of some one of its national institutions. "I am, with respect, your obedient servant, "W. T. SHERMAN, Major-General Commanding." WHILE Sherman stood beneath the hottest fire Weeping and sorely lame, The merest child, the youngest face, Stifling his tears, he limp'd his chief to meet; There spread a pool of bright young blood. Sherman cried, "Halt! front face! "Are you not hit?” "That's nothing. Only send Our men are out, Some cartridges. "Don't mind me! "But, my little friendDid you hear that shout? |