got our pain, and all over the field, cheers went up from the wounded and dying. Some of the voices were very weak, and

arm to swing,.

Did you suffer

His brow con

6

some men had only one -but we all cheered.' much?" asked the lady. tracted, and the smile fled from his face. I don't like to think of that; but never mind, I'm going back to have another chance at them. Some things I can't forget,' he added: Jem and I,'-nodding at the boy in the next cot, have been together from the start; we saw fearful sights that day; we saw wounded men stripped of their cloths. The villains came to us, and cut off ours, when every movement was torture. Those that resisted were pinned to the earth with a bayonet, and left to die by inches, writhing like worms; I can't forget these crimes against my dead comrades, and I'm going back to the front just as quick as I can get up.' The lady expressed some surprise at his cheerful spirit. But he said we don't feel like complaining; we went in for better or

worse, and if we get the worse, it's no more than we bargained for.""

"Here is one more," he added, "about a noble young Captain, named Mendill. At Fort Henry a tree had fallen upon his tent in the night, and injured his back severely. The doctor pronounced him unfit for service, but Mendill's spirit was superior to his pain. He determined to go to the battle at Donelson, and marched thither limping on a crutch, leading his company. During the night before the attack, he tried every means in his power to soothe the hurt, so that he could go into action without a crutch; and in the morning he declared that he felt like going on the double-quick all day.' He had not been long on the field when he was ordered to lead his men in an onset against the rebel lines, and drawing his sword, bound to his neck because of his lameness, he cried exultingly, Come on my boys,'— and fell, with the smile of triumph on his lips. All honor to the young hero and his

comrades who perished at Donelson for the deliverance of their country!"

"Now, over in Europe they've said that Americans can't fight, haven't they?" said Franklin, with flushed cheeks. "If ever I go there, I mean to tell them, among other things, about Mendill who limped to the battle field on a crutch."

"And if I ever go," added Roger, "I'll tell them of Ellsworth and Winthrop, and Greble, and Baker, and

"

"And Lyon," suggested Maedy, not willing to know less than the others concerning her country's valiant men, "and White."

"Yes, indeed," continued Frank, with growing animation, "and if they should think these officers braver than the rest of the army, I'll take my scrap-book and read them the stories about the common soldiers."

"Even the boys here fight for the Union," added Mr. Warren. "Children have already set us examples of bravery on the field, as well as of willing toil at home for the soldiers."

"Yes, the boys at Donelson," said Maedy, "and who else, papa? Are there any other's?"

"Haven't you heard of Albert Manson, for one ?"

"Oh yes," cried Franklin. "I read that account the other day. Wasn't it splendid?-and sad, too. He was with Burnside down South somewhere. Won't you tell us about that part of the war, please?" "That comes next-the expedition to Roanoke. We'll have that by and by." "But what about Albert. Manson ?" asked Roger. "If you've read the story, tell it to us, Frank."

"He

"Well, he was a little drummer-boy from Marblehead," began Frank. begged so hard to go to the war, that finally his father said yes, and joined a regiment with him, so that they could be together. They were in a battle,-you know about that, father, better than I do; but the man was shot, while the boy was fighting at his side, with a musket he had picked up on the field. One of our officers.

saw him, and pointed him out to a friend. 'No wonder we conquer,' he said, 'when boys fight like that.' The rebels began to waver, and the little fellow exclaimed, 'Didn't I say they should run to the old tunes?' and then he beat Yankee Doodle, with a broken pistol for a drum stick. One of the rebels heard it and took aim at him. A Union soldier tried to save the little drummer, but he stood his ground, beating the tune while the rebel troops fled. The ball had struck him, though, and he fell at last. A Colonel lifted him in his arms, and his lips moved. What is it, Albert?' said the officer. Which beat-quick-tell me?' asked the boy. Some of the soldiers near by could not keep back the tears, and one of them leaned down and said, 'We, Albert-the field is ours.' He couldn't quite understand, because he was dying; so he asked again, What? Tell quick.' Then a big Irishman, with tears rolling down his face, said, 'We beat 'em intirely, me boy.' He understood then, and asked, 'Why don't