borne, carried 18. I REMEMBER. child-ish, like a child lab-urn-um, a tree bearing li-lac, a shrub with per- spir-it, state of mind I remember, I remember I remember, I remember I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, My spirit flew in feathers then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember To know I'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy. About a hundred years ago this country was at war with France. No French or British ship dare cross the sea alone. Vessels had to go in fleets, or large numbers, and were attended by ships of war to protect them. These men-of-war were large wooden ships, armed with cannon, and manned by soldiers and sailors, who were ever ready to defend the ships under their care. On one occasion a British convoy was attacked by the French, who were more numerous and better armed than the British. The ships sighted each other at daybreak, and were soon engaged in the fight. As the merchant-ships were not armed, they fled towards the English Channel, hoping to escape. With a ringing cheer the British soldiers and British tars went to their guns; they knew that if they fell into the hands of their enemies, they might be imprisoned for years in a French dungeon. So they fought with great valour and courage; they fought as men do for liberty or life. As the day wore away, many brave men fell. Some were killed, and others wounded. Two of the ships-one on each side-sank, and many brave fellows went down with them. The shot and shell tore the sails and rigging, made holes in the sides of the ships, and often set them on fire. It became a question of patience as well as of courage. Both sides fought long and bravely, but at last the victory was won by the British ships. It was a terrible sight. The poor fellows were hot, wounded, and thirsty. Some were black with smoke and powder; others were faint with wounds and loss of blood. Some fought, with their wounds bound up, until they were scarcely able to stand. Sometimes they had to leave their guns and draw their swords, to cut down those who were trying to board them. When they had driven them off, they would run to their guns again, and fire away till they could see nothing but smoke, and hear nothing but the roar of the cannon. Night came at last, and put an end to the dreadful battle. The loss of the French was much greater, both in ships and men, than that of the British. It was a long time before many of the ships were repaired and fit for service again; but the loss of life could never be repaired. What a terrible thing is war! Oh, where would be the golden corn, And where the ripe red wine, The rich man's wealth, the poor man's health, Were't not for summer shine? And where would be the sheep and beeves, And plenty of the plain, And where the light of beauty's eyes, If 'twere not for the rain ? There's no man rich, there's no man poor, The meanest beggar ever born May thank the rains that fall. The grandest gifts that Heaven bestows If we cannot bless with grateful hearts DR. MACKAY. |