ENGAGED, J. L. PENNYPACKER

I've sat at her feet by the hour

In the properly worshipful way;
I've carried her many a flower;

I've read to her many a lay;
Social battles with friend and with lovor

For her sake I often have waged;
And now, from her lips, I discover

That she-oh! that she is engaged. One season we led in the german,

And one we were partners at whist,
On Sundays we heard the same sermon,

The opera never once missed;
We were generally winners at tennis,

Our skill at the target we gauged,
But a difference between now and then is,

For now she--for now she's engaged.
I have carried a parasol o'er her,

When we strolled in the deep-shaded grove; Whole minutes I've dallied before her,

Assisting to button her glove;
As she sprang to the saddle my fingers

Her wee foot a moment have caged;
And the thrill in my pulses still lingers

Though now she-though now she's engaged. Does she ever live over, I wonder,

The night that we sat in the cove,
One shawl wrapped about us, while thunder

And windstorms and hail raged above?
How, trembling, she lid her white face on

My shoulder, and how I assuaged Her fears by the story of Jason

Does she think of all that when engaged ? On my walls hang her many mementos;

That cathedral she sketched me in Rome; It was after my camp-life she sent those

Silk slippers to welcome me home;
I've the letters she wrote me at college

In a book all assorted and paged-
How delightful to read with the knowledge

That now she-yes-now she's engaged !

I am going to call there to-morrow;

In her joy she will greet her old friond Without even a shadow of sorrow

That the friendship has come to an end; And close in my arms I will fold her,

No matter for papa enraged, Shall his wrath from me longer withhold her

When to me--'tis to me she's engaged ?

BAY BILLY.-FRANK H. GASSAWAY.

'Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg

Perhaps the day you reck,
Our boys, the Twenty-second Maine,

Kept Early's men in check;
Just where Wade Hampton boomed away

The fight went neck and neck.
All day we held the weaker wing,

And held it with a will;
Five several stubborn times we chargod

The battery on the hill,
And five times beaten back, re-formed,

And kept our columns still.
At last from out the centre fight

Spurred up a General's aid.
“That battery must silenced be!"

He cried, as past he sped.
Our Colonel simply touched his cap,

And then, with measured tread,
To lead the crouching line once more

The grand old fellow came.
No wounded man but raised his head,

And strove to gasp his name,
And those who could not speak nor stir,

"God blessed him ”just the same.
For he was all the world to us,

That hero gray and grim ;
Rigbt well he knew that fearful slope

We'd climb with none but him,
Though while his white head led the way

We'd charge hell's portals in.

This time we were not half-way up,

When, midst the storm of shell,
Our leader, with his sword upraised,

Beneath our bayonets fell.
And, as we bore him back, the foe

Set up a joyous yell.
Our hearts went with him. Back we swegt,

And when the bugle said “Up, charge, again !" no man was there

But hung his dogged head.
“ We've no one left to lead us now,"

The sullen soldiers said.
Just then, before the laggard line,

The Colonel's horse we spied-
Bay Billy, with his trappings on,

His nostrils swelling wide,
As though still on his gallant back

The master sat astride.
Right royally he took the place

That was of old his wont,
And with a neigh, that seemed to say

Above the battle's brunt,
" How can the Twenty-second charge

If I am not in front?”
Like statues we stood rooted there,

And gazed a little space;
Above that floating mane we missed

The dear familiar face;
But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire,

And it gave us heart of grace.
No bugle call could rouse us all

As that brave sight had done;
Down all the battered line we felt

A lightning impulse run;
Up, up the hill we followed Bill,

And captured every gun!
And when upon the conquered height

Died out the battle's hum,
Vainly 'mid living and the dead

We sought our leader dumb; It seemed as if a spectre steed

To win that day had come.

At last the morning broke. The lark

Sang in the merry skies
As if to e'en the sleepers there

It said Awake, arise!
Though naught but that last trump of all

Could ope their heavy eyes. And then once more, with banners gay,

Stretched out the long brigade; Trimly upon the furrowed field

The troops stood on parade, And bravely 'mid the ranks were closed

The gaps the fight had made. Not half the Twenty-second's men

Were in their place that morn,
And Corporal Dick, who yester-noon

Stood six brave fellows on,
Now touched my elbow in the ranks,

For all between were gone.
Ah! who forgets that dreary hour

When, as with misty eyes,
To call the old familiar roll

The solemn Sergeant tries--
One feels that thumping of the heart

As no prompt voice replies.
And as in faltering tone and slow

The last few names were said, Across the field some missing horse

Toiled up with weary tread;
It caught the Sergeant's eye, and quick

Bay Billy's name was read.
Yes! there the old bay hero stood,

All safe from battle's harms,
And ere an order could be heard,

Or the bugle's quick alarms,
Down all the front, from end to end,

The troops presented arms!
Not all the shoulder-straps on earth

Could still our mighty cheer.
And ever from that famous day,

When rang the roll-call clear,
Bay Billy's name was read, and then

The whole line answered, “ Here!"

JACK CHIDDY.--ALEXANDER ANDERSON.

A TRUE INCIDENT OF THE RAIL. Brave Jack Chiddy! Oh, well you may sneer, For the name isn't one that sounds nice in the ear; But a name is a sound, -nothing more,-deeds are best, And Jack had the soul of a man in his breast. Now, I heard you say that you're fond of a tale If it bears upon railway men and the rail. Well, here is one that will suit you, I know, Though it happened a good many years ago. Jack Chiddy,—there you are smiling again At the name, which I own is both common and plain,Jack Chiddy, I say, wrought along with his mates, Year in and year out, on a section of plates. Simple enough was the work, with no change But to see that both lines were in gauge and range; Fasten a key there, and tighten a bolt, All to keep fast trains from giving a jolt. Strange when one thinks where a hero may rise, Say at times, in a moment, before our eyes, Or right from our side ere we know it, and do The work of a giant and pass from our view. But the story? you say. Well, I'm coming to that, Though I wander a little--now, where was I at? Let me see. Can you catch, shining round and clear, The mouth of the Breslington tunnel from here? You see it? Well, right on the bank at the top, When stacking some biocks all at once, down the slope A huge slab of stone from the rest shore its way, And fell down on the up-ling of metals, and lay. One sharp cry of terror burst forth from us all, As we saw the huge mass topple over and fali. We stood as if bound to the spot, dumb of speech, Reading horror and doubt in the faces of each. Then one of our mates snatched a glance at his watch, Gave a start and a look that made each of us catch At our breath, then a cry, that thrilled our hearts through"My (iod! the ‘Flying Dutchman'is overdue !" Hark, straight from over the hill we could hear A dull, dead sound coming faint to the ear,

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