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Scene II.-Same as Scene I.--Mrs. H. seated alone, knitting, looks up from her work.

MRS. H. As I sit knitting to-night, I cannot but think

of the poem :

“There's but one pair of stockings to mend to-night.”

How true of my own little family. One died in infancy. Another was drowned while endeavoring to save the life of a poor widow's child. The youngest, yes, the dearest and best, died for his country; manfully did he go forth ab soon as war's hot breath o'erspread the land. What sufferings he has undergone since then! He loved his home, he loved Rosa Beaumond, but he loved his country better than all. What a blank is now in our little home. May God's mercy rest with every vacant fireside. May his presence cheer many a sad household to-night.

Enter Rosa, R.

Rosa. I have much to tell you, dear Mrs. Hansford. This day has been an exciting one to me.

MR. H. Sit down, Rosa, tell me all, you look weary and worn out.

Rosa. For sometime Jay Persings has been very attentive to me.

He told me that he felt badly to see me dressed in mourning; sympathized with me, pitied me; and to-day be wrote me, asking my hand in marriage, urging me to fix upon an early day for our wedding.

MRS. H. And your answer, Rosa ?
ROSA. I answered him “No."

His offer I spurn.
MRS. H. But Rosa, if he loves you, it might-

Rosa. (c.) I know Jay Persings. I have seen him in the street, drunken. He is without character. Then his offer, so soon after the death of one I most devotedly loved, leads me to spurn him more than for any other act. But were he perfection, I should reject his offer.

THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.

35

Mrs. H. You are doubtless right, Rosa, though you surprise me, as I did not think him guilty of so great a vice.

Rosa. I had a dream the evening Mr. Hansford brought us the terrible news, but I feared to tell it you. It was so sweet a dream, so pleasant, so cheering, so impossible, that I did not tell you. (Mrs. H. appears interested.) But last night I had the same dream, saw the same vision. A group of fairies, three in number, appeared to me. I do not remember all they said, but they told me I should yet see him whom I loved. 'Tis foolish to believe in dreams, but what can this mean?

MRS. H. The same vision of which you speak, saw I on that evening. But he is dead. We can never meet him again on this earth. Those fairy angels have told us we shall meet him again, but it shall be in heaven. Come, with me, Rosa, you are weary.

(Exeunt.

Enter RALPH FIELDING R., looks wildly around.

FIELDING. What a wretched night I have passed since I wrote that dreadful letter.

Enter, unperceived, SOLDIER R., citizen's dress.

Rum has not power to make me hide that sin. Jay made me drunk before I wrote it. He promised me money, and as yet has not given it me. I have come here now for the purpose of acknowledging my whole crime. Glad am I that the girl has not married Jay Persings. This that I shall tell her will at least save her from being a drunkard's wife. Would to God that her lover still lives. (turns around and observes SOLDIER.) What are you

SOLDIER. I am he who, as a worn-out soldier met you and one you called Jay, a few weeks ago. I heard your conversation then, I heard your reverie now. I know all.

You are about to act the part of a man. Let this day be one you will long remember. Reform now.

Capt. Hansford still lives, and is now on his way home ; for some time

he has been confined in a rebel prison—was lately released, and may reach home to-day. I have learned this since I was here; and I have come to tell the family, and to inform them of Persings' infamous plot.

Enter Mr. and Mrs. H., and Rosa.

SOLDIER. Do not let our presence surprise you, listen to what this man has got to say.

FIELDING. I was implicated in a plot, gotten up by Jay Persings. That was a forged letter. Your son, madam, your lover, madam, is not dead. (surprise manifestod.) Jay made me drunk before I forged that letter. I have repented. I come to ask your forgiveness.

MR. H. Our joy is too great for us to harbor an unkind thought toward any. But who are you?

SOLDIER. Do you remember feeding a wounded soldier a few weeks since, and giving him money to proceed on his journey? I am that one. I am come to tell

you
that

your son still lives. He is on his way home. Possibly he may be here

Door opens, enter Capt. HANSFORD, R. CAPT. H. Mother! Father! and dear Rosa, is it really you?

MR. H. Let us leave them alone.

4

Exeunt, music, Rosa stands with both hands resting in Capt. H.'s., L. C.,

curtain falls at back of stage, Fairies appear.

First Fairy. May the anxiety which you have felt be of good to you. God ruleth! It is he that has restored your lover to you. Praise Him! (All speak.) May your lives be long and happy,

May your sorrows be but few;
May Jesus be your constant friend,

And ever may you be true.
Gauze falls in front of FAIRIES, music heard without-Curtain slowly

fails.

BURIAL OF THE CHAMPION OF HIS CLASS.

37

BURIAL OF THE CHAMPION OF HIS CLASS,

AT YALE COLLEGE.

X. P. WILLIS.

YB've gathered to your place of prayer

With slow and measured tread :
Your ranks are full, your mates all there-

But the soul of one has fled.
He was the proudest in his strength,

The manliest of ye all;
Why lies he at that length,

And ye around his pall ?

Ye reckon it in days, since he

Strode up that foot-worn aisle,
With his dark eye flashing gloriously,

And bis lip wreathed with a smile.
0, had it been but told you, then,

To mark whose lamp was dim-
From out yon rank of fresh-lipp'd men,

Would ye have singled him ?

Whose was the sinewy arm, that flung

Defiance to the ring ?
Whose laugh of victory loudest rung-

Yet not for
Whose heart in generous deed and thought,

No rivalry might brook,
And yet distinction claiming not ?

There lies he-go and look !

ing?

On now-bis requiem is done,

His last deep prayer is said-
On to his burial, comrades-on,

With a friend and brother dead !
Slow-for it presses heavily-

It is a man ye bear!

Slow, for our thoughts dwell wearily

On the gallant sleeper there.

Tread lightly, comrades !—we have laid

His dark locks on his brow-
Like life-save deeper light and shade:

We'll not disturb them now.
Tread lightly-for 'tis beautiful,

That blue-vein'd eyelid's sleep,
Hiding the eye death left so dull-

Its slumber we will keep.

Rest now! his journeying is done

Your feet are on his sod-
Death's blow has fell’d your champion-

He waiteth here his God.
Ay-turn and weep-'tis manliness

To be heart-broken here-
For the grave of one the best of us

Is water'd by the tear.

SCOTT AND THE VETERAN.

BAYARD TAYLOR.

An old and crippled veteran to the War Department came,
He sought the Chief who led him on many a field of fame-
The Chief who shouted "Forward !” where'er his banner rose,
And bore its stars in triumph behind the flying foes.

“ Have you forgotten, General," the battered soldier cried, “The days of eighteen hundred twelve, when I was at your side ? Have you forgotten Johnson, who fought at Lundy's Lane ? 'Tis true, I'm old and pensioned, but I want to fight again.”

" Have I forgotten?" said the Chief: “My brave old soldier, no! And here's the hand I gave you then, and let it tell you so; But you have done your share, my friend ; you're crippled, old,

and gras,

And we have need of younger arms and fresher blood to-day.”

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