And now for your trunk, I will lay them all in--
Oh Dolly, dear Dolly, how can I begin!
How oft of our journeys I'll think with a sigh,
We've traveled together so much, you and I!
All over the fields and the garden we went,
And played we were gypsies and lived in a tent.
We tried keeping house in so many queer ways,
Out under the trees in the warm summer days!
We moved to the arbor and played that the flowers
Were housekeepers too, and were neighbors of ours.
We lived in the hay-loft and slid down the ricks,
And went out to call on the turkeys and chicks.
Now here is your cradle with lining of blue,
And soft little pillow-I know what I'll do
I'll rock you and sing my last lullaby song,
And I'll No, I can't give you up! "Twill be wrong!
So sad is my heart, and here comes a big tear-
Come back to my arms, oh, you precious old dear.
St. Nicholas Magazine.
News of battle! News of battle!
Hark! 'tis ringing down the street;
And the archways and the pavement
Bear the clang of hurrying feet.
News of battle! Who hath brought it?
News of triumph? Who should bring
Tidings from our noble army,
Greetings from our gallant King?
All last night we watched the beacons
Blazing on the hills afar,
Each one bearing as it kindled,
Message of the opened war.
News of battle! Who hath brought it?
All are thronging to the gate;
"Warder—warder! open quickly;
Man-is this a time to wait?
And the heavy gates are opened:
Then a murmur, long and loud,
And a cry of fear and wonder
Bursts from out the bending crowd.
For they see in battered harness
Only one hard-stricken man;
And his weary steed is wounded,
And his cheek is pale and wan;
Spearless hangs a bloody banner
In his weak and drooping hand-
God! Can that be Randolph Murray,
Captain of the city band?
Round him crush the people, crying,
"Tell us all; oh, tell us true!
Where are they who went to battle,
Randolph Murray, sworn to you?
Where are they, our brothers-children?
Have they met the English foe?
Why art thou, alone, unfollowed?
Is it weal or is it woe?
By the God that made thee, Randolph!
Tell us what mischance hath come."
Then he lifts his riven banner,
And the asker's voice is dumb.
While up rose the Provost-
A brave old man was he,
Of ancient name and knightly fame,
And chivalrous degree.
For, with a father's pride,
He saw his last remaining son
Go forth by Randolph's side,
With casque on head and spur on heel,
All keen to do and dare;
And proudly did that gallant boy
Dunedin's banner bear.
Oh! woeful now was the old man's look,
And he spake right heavily-
"Now, Randolph, tell thy tidings,
However sharp they be!
Woe is written on thy visage,
Death is looking from thy face,
Speak! though it be of overthrow,
It cannot be disgrace!"
Randolph gave the riven banner
To the Provost's shaking hand,
Saying, "That is all I bring ye
From the bravest of the land.
Ay! ye may look upon it-
It was guarded well and long,
By your brothers and your children,
By the valiant and the strong.
One by one they fell around it,
As the archers laid them low,
Grimly dying, still unconquered,
With their faces to the foe.
Ay! ye may look upon it,—
There is more than honor there,
Else, be sure, I had not brought it
From the field of dark despair.
Never yet was royal banner
Steeped in such a costly dye;
It hath lain upon a bosom
Where no other shroud shall lie. Sirs! I charge you, keep it holy; Keep it as a sacred thing,
For the stain ye see upon it
Was the life-blood of your King!"
Woe, and woe, and lamentation!
What a piteous cry was there!
Widows, maidens, mothers, children,
Shrieking, sobbing in despair!
Then the Provost uprose,
And his lip was ashen white; But a flush was on his brow
And his eye was full of light. "Thou hast spoken, Randolph Murray, Like a soldier stout and true; Thou hast done a deed of daring Had been perilled but by few, For thou hast not shamed to face us, Nor to speak thy ghastly tale. Now, as my God shall judge me, I hold it braver done,
Than hadst thou tarried in thy place,
And died above my son !
Thou need'st not tell it; he is dead.
God help us all this day!
But speak-how fought the citizens
Within the furious fray?
For by the might of Mary!
"Twere something still to tell That no Scottish foot went backward When the Royal Lion fell!"
"No one failed him! He is keeping
Royal state and semblance still;
Knight and noble lie around him,
Cold on Flodden's fatal hill.
Of the brave and gallant-hearted,
Whom you sent with prayers away,
Not a single man departed
From his monarch yesterday,
Had you seen them, O my Masters,
When the night began to fall,
Every stone a Scottish body,
Every step a corpse in mail!
And among them lay our monarch,
Clenching still his shivered sword;
By his side Montrose and Athole,
At his feet a Southern lord.
All so thick they lay together,
When the stars lit up the sky,
That I knew not who were stricken,
Or who yet remained to die.
Few there were when Surrey halted,
And his wearied host withdrew ;
None but dying men around him
When the English trumpet blew.
Then I stooped, and took the banner
As you see it, from his breast,
And I closed our hero's eyelids,
And I left him to his rest.
In the mountains growled the thunder,
As I leaped the woful wall,
And the heavy clouds were settling
Over Flodden, like a pall."
Mrs. Rebecca Moll was one of those unfortunate women who are always "ailin'." She was never free from a "misery of some kind, and never knew what it was to see 66 a well day." Her conversation chiefly referred to the diseases she was suffering from, those she had had, and those she expected to have. She loved to dwell upon the many times that "four doctors had given her up," and when it was confidently supposed that "every breath would be her last." Her friends were, indeed, somewhat sceptical in regard to the genuineness of Mrs. Rebecca Moll's maladies. They doubted her oft-repeated statement that she had had the small-pox, the genuine Asiatic cholera, and the yellow fever; for it was proved that on the day following that on which all these diseases were at their height, Mrs. Moll had walked three miles to a quilting; but when reminded of this fact she said, calmly, "Some folks git over sickness quicker'n others, and I'm one of that kind."
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