"Yes, sir; OI wish that last summer, You'd been there to see,

How for brave Captain Hill I was drummer, In East Tennessee."

The fifer struck up, (for his trying,)
A beautiful tune;

Which at once set his drum sticks a flying,
Like hail stones in June.

Was it fifing, or piping, or tooting,
Of difficult chime,

The drummer boy skillfully put in,
The rub-a-dub time.

Says the captain, "good madam, I'll take him, Pray what is his name ?”

"Edward Lee," she said, "do not forsake him, Return him the same."

Said he, "In six weeks we'll restore,
It cannot be more;

Should he 'scape all the dangers before him,
And may-be in four."

Said she, "I trust him in your keeping."
And fast fell her tears-

She kissed Eddie, and went away weeping,
With motherly fears.

We marched, and were soon in that battle,
Too dreadful to tell,-

Boomed the cannons, and muskets did rattle,
And brave Lyon fell!

That sound, when permitted to follow,
Little Eddie, I found,

With his back to a log in the hollow,
His seat was the ground.

His drum, which was hanging quite near him,
On a bush that grew there,

He beat that his comrades might hear him, And come to his care.

He saw me, and then stopped his drumming, As quick as you'd think

"O corporal, I'm glad of your coming,
O, give me some drink!"

I turned to the brook for some water,
My canteen was dry-

"O, corporal," he cried do not loiter,
And leave me to die!"

Returning I quickly discovered

That both of his feet,

As he sat with his limbs all uncovered,
Were shot off complete!

He drank, then said, "do but assure me
You don't think I'll die!

This man said the surgeon could cure me,
This man that's near by."

I perceived that a Rebel lay near him,
Whose spirit had fled:

Pitying Eddie, he had tried to cheer him,
Himself was now dead.

He was shot in his bowels, (so said he,)
And crawled along there,

And trying to save little Eddie,

He died without care.

He had taken his buckskin suspender,

And corded each limb

Of Eddie so careful and tender

The Lord pity him!

While hearing this pitiful story,

And viewing the scene,

The foe rushed upon us, all gory,
Adown the ravine.

The leader took up little Eddie,
And quickly we sped,

And soon reached their camp, when already
The poor boy was dead!

His mother, now wailing and mourning,
A poor refugee;

God grant her a happy returning

To East Tennessee.

STORY XLIX.

VENTURESOME AND SUCCESSFUL SCOUTING EXPEDITION.

CAPTAIN S. BARD, with a scouting party of twentyeight horsemen, left Covington about four o'clock on Sunday evening, taking the Independence pike, and when about eight miles out, branching off to the right.

The night being fine, they rode the greater part of the time, and after having gone a distance of about twenty-seven miles, they returned, passing near a little settlement called Ficksville. Captain Bard was at this time a hundred yards in advance of his party, and came upon an armed horseman. As he approached him, he opened with-"Good morning."

"Good morning," replied the horseman.

"Is there any danger about here?" said Captain Bard. "From whom?"

"Why, from the Federals."

“Oh, no,” was the reply; "there's no danger of them

about here; there is none of them in this neighborhood."

"Think not?" said Captain Bard; "suppose you deliver up your fire-arms;" and at this moment he pulled out a pistol and pointed it directly at the Rebel Captain, for such he appeared to be.

66

Why, you are joking, ain't you?" said Reb.

"No; I'm in earnest; I want them right away." The latter part of the sentence was delivered in an emphatic manner; and Captain Butternut, (for he would not give his name,) unbuckled his belt, in which were the pistols, a Colt's navy revolver, and a five-nick cartridge pistol, and delivered it to Captain Bard, at the same time remarking:

Caught at last, after eighteen months' service. I'll go along."

A Rebel private near by yielded himself a prisoner at once. By this time a number of Bard's men had come up.

STORY L.

A FEMALE SOLDIER AND HER EXPERIENCE.

In the month of May, 1863, a young woman arrived at Chicago from Louisville, Ky., whose history is thus related in the Chicago Post:

แ

"She gave her name as Annie Lillybridge, of Detroit, and stated that her parents reside in Hamilton, C. W. Last spring, (1862,) she was employed in a drygoods store in Detroit, where she became acquainted with a Lieutenant W

of one of the Michigan regiments,

and an intimacy immediately sprang up between them. They corresponded for some time, and became much attached to each other. Some time during the ensuing -, was appointed to a posi

summer Lieutenant W

tion in the 21st Michigan Infantry, then rendezvousing in Ionia county.

"The thought of parting from the gay lieutenant nearly drove her mad, and she resolved to share his dangers and be near him. No sooner had she resolved upon this course than she proceeded to act. Purchasing male attire she visited Ionia, enlisted in Captain Kavanah's Company, 21st Regiment. While in camp she managed to keep her secret from all-not even the object of her attachment, who met her every day, was aware of her presence so near him.

"Annie left with her regiment for Kentucky, passed through all the dangers and temptations of a camp-life, endured long marches, and sleeping on the cold ground without a murmur. At last, before the battle of Pea Ridge, in which her regiment took part, her sex was discovered by a member of her company, and she enjoined secresy upon him, after relating her previous history.

"On the following day she was under fire, and from a letter in her possession, it appears she behaved with marked gallantry, and by her own hand shot a Rebel captain who was in the act of firing upon Lieutenant W But the fear of revealing her sex continu

ally haunted her.

"After the battle, she was sent out with others to collect the wounded, and one of the first corpses found by her was the soldier who had discovered her sex. Days and weeks passed on and she became a universal