ck across the warm and shining waters of the Gulf Stream,
each knew that all was good, and said:--

"Lo! from the thunder-strife,
And from the blown, white ashes of the dead,
We rise to larger life."

"There is a peace amid'st the shock of arms,
That satisfies the soul, though all the air
Hurtles with horror and with rude alarms."

"That clarion cry, My country! makes men one."

WHEELER'S BRIGADE AT SANTIAGO

'NEATH the lanes of the tropic sun
The column is standing ready,
Awaiting the fateful command of one
Whose word will ring out
To an answering shout
To prove it alert and steady.
And a stirring chorus all of them sung
With singleness of endeavor,
Though some to "The Bonny Blue Flag" had swung
And some to "The Union For Ever."

The order came sharp through the desperate air
And the long ranks rose to follow,
Till their dancing banners shone more fair
Than the brightest ray
Of the Cuban day
On the hill and jungled hollow;
And to "Maryland" some in the days gone by
Had fought through the combat's rumble
And some for "Freedom's Battle-Cry"
Had seen the broad earth crumble.

Full many a widow weeps in the night
Who had been a man's wife in the morning;
For the banners we loved we bore to the height
Where the enemy stood
As a hero should
His valor his country adorning;
But drops of pride with your tears of grief,
Ye American women, mix ye!
For the North and South, with a Southern chief,
Kept time to the tune of "Dixie."

WALLACE RICE.

SOLDIERS

SO many, many soldiers
At reveille fared forth;
Such ready, willing soldiers,
From sunny South and North.

So many gallant soldiers
At noon to face the fight;
So many weary wounded
Home-dreaming in the night.

So many quick to answer
To drum and bugle sound;
So many war-scarred sleepers
On death's white-tented ground.

O soldiers, silent soldiers,
Calm-sleeping in the sun,
Beneath one happy flag again,
God rest you, every one.

Of every human difference
Great Time, the high priest, shrives;
While Southern winds are telling
The fragrance of brave lives.

Beneath the Southern willows,
In slumber folded deep,
O soldi