Our gunner, affrighted, unto Paul Jones he came, "Our ship is a-sinking, likewise in a flame;" Paul Jones he replied, in the height of his pride, "If we can do no better, we'll sink alongside."

At length our shot flew so quick, they could not stand:
The flag of proud Britain was forced to come down,
The Lion bore down and the Richard did rake,
Which caused the heart of Richard to ache.
Come now, my brave buckskin, we've taken a prize,
A large forty-four, and a twenty likewise;

They are both noble vessels, well laden with store!
We will toss off the can to our country once more.

God help the poor widows, who shortly must weep
For the loss of their husbands, now sunk in the deep!
We'll drink to brave Paul Jones, who, with sword in hand,
Shone foremost in action, and gave us command.

Our Heroes.

BY LUCY HAMILTON HOOPER.

GAY leaders in the "German's" maze,
Light danglers by a lady's chair,
White-gloved, soft-voiced,—your place of old
Knows you no more. Where are you?-where?

Our lists of "dancing men" grow thin;
And, as one turns the page, one sees
The old familiar names no more:

They're writ on sadder lists than these

Dark records of red battle-fields,
Of crimson sands and gory sod,
Where, 'mid the rush and roar of war,
Brave souls and true went up to God.

We read the lists of those who pine
In loathsome prisons far away,
And sigh to greet each well-known name:
There are our carpet-knights to-day.

And if, in haunts forsaken long,

We greet once more a well-known face,

On pallid brow and faded lip

We mark the fatal fever-trace:

Or, with full heart and eyes, we note
The gallant soldier's empty sleeve:
Yet back, unshed, we press our tears!
We are too proud of him to grieve!

And, gallant hearts! undaunted still
By perill'd life and wearing pain,
They turn from loving homes away,
Their scarce-saved lives to stake again.

Scarce has each fearful wound been heal'd,
Scarce has the fever ceased to burn,
When from each wan lip rings the cry,
"Our country needs us! we return!

"We go to bear her flag once more

To victory 'neath the Southern sky. We've suffer'd for her cause; and now We're ready for that cause to die!"

My country! though thy flag to-day Droops, dimm'd and rent by rebel guns, Thou hast no cause to faint or fear!

Be proud the while thou hast such sons!

THE END.