trating, ceaseless sound, which rose above all other sounds, could come neither from the advance of the enemy nor from the work of the sappers. No, it was indeed the blast of the Scottish bagpipes, now shrill and harsh, as threatening vengeance on the foe, then in softer tones, seeming to promise succor to their friends in need.

Never, surely, was there such a scene as that which followed. Not a heart in the residency of Lucknow but bowed itself before God. All, by one simultaneous impulse, fell upon their knees, and nothing was heard but bursting sobs and the murmured voice of prayer. Then all arose, and there rang out from a thousand lips a great shout of joy, which resounded far and wide, and lent new vigor to that blessed pibroch.

To our cheer of "God save the Queen," they replied by the well-known strain that moves every Scot to tears, "Should auld acquaintance be forgot." After that, nothing else made any impression on me. I scarcely remember what followed. Jessie was presented to the general on his entrance into the fort, and at the officers' banquet her health was drunk by all present, while the pipers marched around the table, playing once more the familiar air of Auld Lang Syne."

DEFINITIONS.—A vẽrt', to turn aside. En ġi neer', an officer in the army, who designs and constructs defensive and offensive works. Siege, the setting of an army around a fortified place to compel its surrender. Pro found', deep. Slo'gan, the war cry or gathering word of a Highland clan in Scotland. Fer'vor, intensity of feeling. Pi'broeh, a wild, irregular species of music belonging to the Highlands of Scotland; it is performed on a bagpipe. Săp'pers, men employed in making an approach to a fortified place by digging. Reş'i den çy, the official dwelling of a government officer in India. Si mul ta'ne ous, happening at the same time.

NOTES. - Lucknow, a city in the British possession of India. In 1857 there was a mutiny of the native troops, and the British garrison

of 1700 men was besieged by 10,000 mutineers. After twelve weeks' siege, fresh British troops forced an entrance, and the town was held until relieved three weeks later by the arrival of Sir Colin Campbell, as above described.

Cawnpore, also a city of India, near Lucknow, which was besieged during the mutiny. After surrendering, the English, two thirds of whom were women and children, were treacherously massacred.

The inhabitants of the northern part of Scotland are called Highlanders; those of the southern part, Lowlanders. The dialect of the former is very peculiar, as shown in the language of Jessie Brown; as dinna for did not, a' for all, no for not, noo for now, auld for old. Macgregor and Campbell are names of Highland clans or families.

THE PIPES AT LUCKNOW.

BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

Pipes of the misty moorlands,

Voice of the glens and hills;
The droning of the torrents,
The treble of the rills!

Not the braes of bloom and heather,
Nor the mountains dark with rain,
Nor maiden bower, nor border tower,
Have heard your sweetest strain.

Dear to the Lowland reaper,

And plaided mountaineer,
To the cottage and the castle,

The Scottish pipes are dear ;
Sweet sounds the ancient pibroch

O'er mountain, loch, and glade;
But the sweetest of all music
The pipes at Lucknow played.

Day by day the Indian tiger

Louder yelled and nearer crept ; Round and round the jungle serpent Near and nearer circles swept. "Pray for rescue, wives and mothers,— Pray to-day!" the soldier said; "To-morrow, death's between us

And the wrong and shame we dread.'

Oh, they listened, looked, and waited,
Till their hope became despair ;
And the sobs of low bewailing

Filled the pauses of their prayer.
Then up spake a Scottish maiden,

With her ear unto the ground : "Dinna ye hear it?-dinna ye hear it? The pipes o' Havelock sound!"

Hushed the wounded man his groaning:
Hushed the wife her little ones;
Alone they heard the drum-roll
And the roar of Sepoy guns.
But to sounds of home and childhood
The Highland ear was true;
As her mother's cradle crooning
The mountain pipes she knew.
Like the march of soundless music

Through the vision of the seer, More of feeling than of hearing,

Of the heart than of the ear, She knew the droning pibroch, She knew the Campbell's call:

"Hark! hear ye no' MacGregor's,

The grandest o' them all!"

Oh, they listened, dumb and breathless,
And they caught the sound at last;
Faint and far beyond the Goomtee

Rose and fell the piper's blast!
Then a burst of wild thanksgiving

Mingled woman's voice and man's: "God be praised!—the march of Havelock! The piping of the clans!"

Louder, nearer, fierce as vengeance,

Sharp and shrill as swords at strife, Came the wild MacGregor's clan call, Stinging all the air to life.

But when the far-off dust cloud

To plaided legions grew, Full tenderly and blithesomely The pipes of rescue blew.

Round the silver domes of Lucknow,

Moslem mosque and pagan shrine,
Breathed the air to Britons dearest,
The air of Auld Lang Syne.
O'er the cruel roll of war drums

Rose that sweet and homelike strain;
And the tartan clove the turban,

As the Goomtee cleaves the plain.

Dear to the corn-land reaper

And plaided mountaineer, To the cottage and the castle The piper's song is dear.

Sweet sounds the Gaelic pibroch

O'er mountain, glen, and glade;
But the sweetest of all music
The Pipes at Lucknow played !

DEFINITIONS.— Plăid'ed, referring to the peculiar dress of the Scotch Highlanders. Loeh, a lake in Scotland. Se'poy, a native of India engaged in the English service. (It was the Sepoys who were now in rebellion.) Tär'tan, -woolen cloth checkered or plaided, worn much by the Highlanders; here used to denote the Highlanders themselves.

NOTE. The Goomtee is the river on the banks of which the city of Lucknow is built.

THE LAST GRAND REVIEW.

BY T. DEWITT TALMAGE.

Never was there a more tremendous spectacle than when, at the close of the war, our armies came back and marched in review before the President's stand at Washington. It made no difference whether a man was a Republican or a Democrat, a Northern man or a Southern man, he had any emotion of nature, he ould not look upon that spectacle without weeping. God knew that the day was stupendous, and He cleared the heaven of cloud and mist and chill, and spread the blue sky as a triumphal arch for the returning warriors to pass under. From Arlington Heights, the spring foliage shook out its welcome, as the hosts came over the hills, and the sparkling waters of the Potomac tossed their gold to the feet of the battalions, as they came to the Long Bridge, and, in almost interminable line, passed over.

The Capitol never seemed so majestic as that morning, snowy white, looking down upon the tides of men that came surging down, billow after billow. They passed in