THE REVOLUTIONARY RISING.
screamed aunt Jane. "Yes, married," sez I; "married all over, married for sure, married like a flash-jined in wedlock, hooked on for life, for worser or for better, for life and for death-to SALL! I am that very thing-me! Peter Sorghum, ESQUIRE!"
With that I ups and tells 'em all about it from Alfer to Ermeger! They was all mighty well pleased, and I went to bed as proud as a young rooster with his first spurs.
THE REVOLUTIONARY RISING.-T. BUCHANAN READ.
OUT of the North the wild news came,
Far flashing on its wings of flame,
Swift as the boreal light which flies At midnight through the startled skies. And there was tumult in the air,
The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat, And through the wide land everywhere The answering tread of hurrying feet; While the first oath of Freedom's gun Came on the blast from Lexington; And Concord roused, no longer tame, Forgot her old baptismal name, Made bare her patriot arm of power, And swelled the discord of the hour.
Within its shade of elm and oak
The church of Berkley Manor stood; There Sunday found the rural folk,
And some esteemed of gentle blood. In vain their feet with loitering tread Passed mid the graves where rank is naught; All could not read the lesson taught
In that republic of the dead.
How sweet the hour of Sabbath talk,
The vale with peace and sunshine full, Where all the happy people walk,
Decked in their homespun flax and wool;
THE REVOLUTIONARY RISING.
Where youth's gay hats with blossoms bloom; And every maid, with simple art,
Wears on her breast, like her own heart,
A bud whose depths are all perfume; While every garment's gentle stir Is breathing rose and lavender.
The pastor came; his snowy locks Hallowed his brow of thought and care; And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks, He led into the house of prayer.
Then soon he rose; the prayer was strong; The Psalm was warrior David's song; The text, a few short words of might— "The Lord of hosts shall arm the right!" He spoke of wrongs too long endured, Of sacred rights to be secured; Then from his patriot tongue of flame The startling words for Freedom came. The stirring sentences he spake Compelled the heart to glow or quake, And, rising on his theme's broad wing, And grasping in his nervous hand The imaginary battle-brand, In face of death he dared to fling Defiance to a tyrant king.
Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed In eloquence of attitude,
Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher; Then swept his kindling glance of fire From startled pew to breathless choir; When suddenly his mantle wide His hands impatient flung aside, And, lo! he met their wondering eyes Complete in all a warrior's guise.
A moment there was awful pause- When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor! cease! God's temple is the house of peace!"
The other shouted, "Nay, not so, When God is with our righteous cause; His holiest places then are ours, His temples are our forts and towers
That frown upon the tyrant foe; In this, the dawn of Freedom's day, There is a time to fight and pray!"
before the open door
The warrior priest had ordered so- The enlisting trumpet's sudden roar Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er, Its long reverberating blow,
So loud and clear, it seemed the ear Of dusty death must wake and hear.
And there the startling drum and fife Fired the living with fiercer life ; While overhead, with wild increase, Forgetting its ancient toll of peace, The great bell swung as ne'er before. It seemed as it would never cease;
And every word its ardor flung
From off its jubilant iron tongue
Was, "War! WAR! WAR!"
"Who dares?"--this was the patriot's cry, As striding from the desk he came— "Come out with me, in Freedom's name, For her to live, for her to die?" A hundred hands flung up reply, A hundred voices answered, "I!”
DRESSING FOR CHURCH.
HAS anybody heard the bell ?
You have?-dear me, I know full well I'll never dress in time-
For mercy's sake, come help me, Luce, I'll make my toilet very spruce— This silk is quite sublime!
Here, lace this gaiter for me, do;
"A hole," you say? plague take the shoe! Please, Lucy, try and hide it- Just think, its Sunday, and, my soul, I cannot wear it with a hole! The men will surely spy it.
They're always peeping at our feet, Tho', to be sure, they needn't peep, The way we hold our dresses; . I'll disappoint them, though, to-day, "And cross myself," pray, did you say? Don't laugh at my distresses!
How splendidly this silk will rustle! (Please hand my "self-adjusting bustle," My corset and my hoop;)
There, now, I'll take five skirts or six, Do hurry, Luce, and help me fix, You know I cannot stoop!
"How shall I say my prayers to-day?" As if girls went to church to pray! How can you be so foolish?
Here, damp this ribbon in cologne; "What for?"—to paint, you silly one- Now, Lucy, don't be mulish.
Now then, my hat-how he abhors
This thing 'tis big as all out-doors
The frightful sugar-scoop!
Thank heaven, my cloak is handsome, too, It cost enough to be, I know-
(Straighten this horrid hoop!)
My handkerchief and gloves you'll find Just in that drawer-Luce, are you blind; (How does my dress trail ?)
KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GREY.
Its all the fashion now, you know,
(Pray, does the paint and powder show Through my loose veil ?)
Thank you, my dear, I b'lieve I'm dressed; The saints be praised, the day of rest
Comes only once in seven,
For if, on all the other six,
This trouble I should have to fix,
I'd never get to heaven!
They were standing where a brook, Bending like a shepherd's crook, Flashed its silver, and thick ranks Of green willow fringed the banks; Half in thought, and half in play, Katie Lee and Willie Grey.
They had cheeks like cherries red; He was taller-'most a head;
She, with arms like wreaths of snow, Swung a basket to and fro As she loitered, half in play, Chattering to Willie Grey.
"Pretty Katie," Willie said
And there came a dash of red Through the brownness of his cheek-
"Boys are strong and girl are weak, And I'll carry, so I will, Katie's basket up the hill."
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