At early morning came an order that set the general's face aglow: "Now," said he to his staff, "draw out my soiders. Grant says that I may go!"

Hither and thither dash'd each eager colonel to join his regiment,

While a low rumor of the daring purpose ran on from tent to tent;

For the long-roll was sounding in the valley, and the keev trumpet's bray,

And the wild laughter of the swarthy veterans, who cried, "We fight to-day !”

The solid tramp of infantry, the rumble of the great jolting

gun,

The sharp, clear order, and the fierce steeds neighing, Why's not the fight begun ?”——

All these plain harbingers of sudden conflict broke on the startled ear;

And, last, arose a sound that made your blood leap-the ringing battle-cheer.

The lower works were carried at one onset. Like a vast

roaring sea

Of steel and fire, our soldiers from the trenches swept out the enemy;

And we could see the gray-coats swarming up from the mountain's leafy base,

To join their comrades in the higher fastness-for life or death the race!

Then our long line went winding round the mountain, in a huge serpent track,

And the slant sun upon it flash'd and glimmer'd, as on a dragon's back.

Higher and higher the column's head push'd onward, ere the rear moved a man ;

And soon the skirmish-lines their straggling volleys and single shots began.

Then the bald head of Lookout flamed and bellow'd, and all its batteries woke,

And down the mountain pour'd the bomb-shells, puffing into our eyes their smoke;

And balls and grape-shot rain'd upon our column, that bore the angry shower

As if it were no more than that soft dropping which scarcely stirs the flower.

Oh, glorious courage that inspires the hero, and runs through all his men.!

The heart that fail'd beside the Rappahannock, it was itself again!

The star that circumstance and jealous faction shrouded in envious night,

Here shone with all the splendor of its nature, and with a freer flight!

fark! hark! there go the well-known crashing volleys, the long-continued roar,

That swells and falls, but never ceases wholly, until the fight is o'er.

Up towards the crystal gates of heaven ascending, the mortal tempests beat,

As if they sought to try their cause together before God's very feet!

We saw our troops had gain'd a footing almost beneath the topmost ledge,

And back and forth the rival lines went surging upon the dizzy edge.

Sometimes we saw our men fall backward slowly, and groan'd in our despair;

Or cheer'd when now and then a stricken rebel plunged out in open air,

Down, down, a thousand empty fathoms dropping, his God alone knows where !

At eve, thick haze upon the mountain gather'd, with rising smoke stain'd black,

And not a glimpse of the contending armies shone through the swirling rack.

Night fell o'er all; but still they flash'd their lightnings and roll'd their thunders loud,

Though no man knew upon what side was going that battle in the cloud.

Night! what a night!—of anxious thought and wouder; but still no tidings came

From the bare summit of the trembling mountain, still wrapp'd in mist and flame.

But towards the sleepless dawn, stillness, more dreadful than the fierce sound of war,

Settled o'er Nature, as if she stood breathless before the morning star.

As the sun rose, dense clouds of smoky vapor boil'd from the valley's deeps,

Dragging their torn and ragged edges slowly up through the tree-clad steeps,

And rose and rose, till Lookout, like a vision, above us grandly stood,

And over his black crags and storm-blanch'd headlands burst the warm, golden flood.

Thousands of eyes were fix'd upon the mountain, and thousands held their breath,

And the vast army, in the valley watching, seem'd touched with sudden death.

High o'er us soar'd great Lookout, robed in purple, a glory on his face,

A human meaning in his hard, calm features, beneath that heavenly grace.

Out on a crag walk'd something-What? an eagle that treads you giddy height?

Surely no man! But still he clamber'd forward into the full, rich light;

Then up he started, with a sudden motion, and from the blazing crag

Flung to the morning breeze and sunny radiance the dear old starry flag!

Ah! then what follow'd? Scarr'd and war-worn soldiers. like girls, flush'd through their tan,

And down the thousand wrinkles of the battles a thousand tear-drops ran;

Men seized each other in return'd embraces, and sobbed for very love;

A spirit which made all that moment brothers seem'd fall ing from above.

And, as we gazed, around the mountain's summit our glittering files appear'd;

Into the rebel works we saw them marching; and we-we cheer'd, we cheer'd!

And they above waved all their flags before us, and join'd our frantic shout,

Standing, like demigods, in light and triumph, upon their own Lookout!

I*

NOBODY'S CHILD.-Phila H. Case.

ALONE, in the dreary, pitiless street,
With my torn old dress and bare cold feet,
All day I've wandered to and fro,

Hungry and shivering and nowhere to go;
The night's coming on in darkness and dread,
And the chill sleet beating upon my bare head
Oh! why does the wind blow upon me so wild?
Is it because I'm nobody's child?

Just over the way there's a flood of light,
And warmth and beauty, and all things bright;
Beautiful children, in robes so fair,

Are carolling songs in rapture there.
I wonder if they, in their blissful glee,
Would pity a poor little beggar like me,
Wandering alone in the merciless street,
Naked and shivering and nothing to eat.

Oh! what shall I do when the night comes down
In its terrible blackness all over the town?
Shall I lay me down 'neath the angry sky,
On the cold hard pavements alone to die?

When the beautiful children their prayers have said,
And mammas have tucked them up snugly in bed.
No dear mother ever upon me smiled-
Why is it, I wonder, that I'm nobody's child!

No father, no mother, no sister, not one

In all the world loves me; e'en the little dogs run
When I wander too near them; 'tis wondrous to see,
How everything shrinks from a beggar like me!
Perhaps 'tis a dream; but, sometimes, when I lie
Gazing far up in the dark blue sky,
Watching for hours some large bright star,
I fancy the beautiful gates are ajar.

And a host of white-robed, nameless things,
Come fluttering o'er me in gilded wings;
A hand that is strangely soft and fair
Caresses gently my tangled hair,

And a voice like the carol of some wild bird
The sweetest voice that was ever heard-
Calls me many a dear pet name,

Till my heart and spirits are all aflame;

And tells me of such unbounded love,
And bids me come up to their home above,
And then, with such pitiful, sad surprise,
They look at me with their sweet blue eyes,
And it seems to me out of the dreary night,
I am going up to the world of light,

And away from the hunger and storms so wild-
I am sure I shall then be somebody's child.

NATIONAL MONUMENT TO WASHINGTON. R. C. Winthrop, July 4th, 1848.

FELLOW-CITIZENS, let us seize this occasion to renew to each other our vows of allegiance and devotion to the American Union, and let us recognize in our common title to the name and the fame of Washington, and in our common veneration for his example and his advice, the all-sufficient centripetal power, which shall hold the thick clustering stars of our confederacy in one glorious constellation forever! Let the column which we are about to construct be at once a pledge and an emblem of perpetual union! Let the foundations be laid, let the superstructure be built up and cemented, let each stone be raised and riveted, in a spirit of national brotherhood! And may the earliest ray of the rising sun-till that sun shall set to rise no more-draw forth from it daily, as from the fabled statue of antiquity, a strain of national harmony, which shall strike a responsive cord in every heart throughout the republic!

Proceed, then, fellow-citizens with the work for which you have assembled. Lay the corner-stone of a monument which shall adequately bespeak the gratitude of the whole American people to the illustrious father of his country! Build it to the skies; you cannot outreach the loftiness of his principles! Found it upon the massive and eternal rock; you cannot make it more enduring than his fame! Construct it of the peerless Parian marble; you cannot make it purer than his life! Exhaust upon it the rules and principles of ancient and of modern art; you cannot make it more proportionate than his character.

But let not your homage to his memory end here. Think not to transfer to a tablet or a column the tribute which is due from yourselves. Just honor to Washington can only be rendered by observing his precepts and imitating his example. Similitudine decoremus. He has built