ive us 'Boots and Saddles,' you all like that game."

Tumblers were arrested in mid-air, cigars taken from smooth or hairy
lips, while all eyes were turned towards the adjutant, a soldier down
to his spurs, who "tuned up," as universally requested, without delay.

BOOTS AND SADDLES.

The ring of a bridle, the stamp of a hoof,
Stars above, and a wind in the tree,--
A bush for a billet,--a rock for a roof,--
Outpost duty's the duty for me!
Listen. A stir in the valley below--
The valley below is with riflemen crammed,
Covering the column and watching the foe--
Trumpet-major!--Sound and be d----d!
Stand to your horses!--It's time to begin--
Boots and Saddles! The Pickets are in!

Though our bivouac-fire has smouldered away,
Yet a bit of good 'baccy shall comfort us well;
When you sleep in your cloak there's no lodging to pay,
And where we shall breakfast the devil can tell!
But the horses were fed, ere the daylight had gone,
There's a slice in the embers--a drop in the can--
Take a suck of it, comrade! and so pass it on,
For a ration of brandy puts heart in a man.
Good liquor is scarce, and to waste it a sin,--
Boots and Saddles! The Pickets are in!

Hark! there's a shot from the crest of the hill!
Look! there's a rocket leaps high in the air.
By the beat of his gallop, that's nearing us still,
That runaway horse has no rider, I'll swear!

There's a jolly light-infantry post on the right,
I hear their bugles--they sound the 'Advance.'
They will tip us a tune that shall wake up the night,
And we're hardly the lads to leave out of the dance.
They're at it already, I'm sure, by the din,--
Boots and Saddles! The Pickets are in!

They don't give us long our divisions to prove--
Short, sharp, and distinct, comes the word of command.
'Have your men in the saddle---Be ready to move--
Keep the squadron together--the horses in hand--'
While a whisper's caught up in the ranks as they form--
A whisper that fain would break out in a cheer--
How the foe is in force, how the work will be warm.
But, steady! the chief gallops up from the rear.
With old 'Death-or-Glory' to fight is to win,
And the Colonel means mischief, I see by his grin.--
Boots and Saddles! The Pickets are in!--
Boots and Saddles! The Pickets are in!

"And it must be 'Boots and Saddles' with us," said Lord Bearwarden to
his gu