A SOLDIER'S HEART.

& Soldier's Heart.

WHERE is the heart of a soldier,

His thought, his hope, and his dream, When the rifles ring and the bullets sing, And the flashing sabres gleam?

Oh, not on the field of battle,

But far and far away,

His heart is living the old, old hopes,
While his sword is red in the fray!

Where is the heart of a soldier,

And what do the bugles wake,

And what does the roar of the cannon mean When the hills beneath them shake?

Oh, not for him the glory,

And the dash and the crash of war, But his heart is away on a mission gay Where they hear no cannon roar !

And there is the heart of a soldier,-
A little home on the hill,
A white-faced woman, a little child,
That stands by the window-sill;
A little song, and a little prayer,
And a wonder in the face,

And a "God save papa, and bring him back In the goodness of thy grace!"

And there is the heart of a soldier, —

Not on the field of fight,

But steeped in the dream of a saddened home Where a window keeps its light,

That a soldier's feet may keep the path,

And his way may homeward lead, When under the flag of the freedom-land He has wrought the hero's deed.

Yea, there is the heart of a soldier,
Where wife and baby are;

Though his eyes and his will may follow
The light of the battle star;

Though his hand may swing the sabre,

And his bayonet charge the foe,
The soldier's heart is away, away,
In the home where they miss him so!

-Baltimore News.

THE SONG OF THEN AND NOW.

The Song of then and now.

OH, they sang a song of Wind and Sail

In the days of heave and haul,

Of the weather-gage, of tack and sheet,
When the anchor rose to the tramp of feet,
And the click of the capstan pawl.

They sang brave songs of the old broadsides,
Long Tom, and the carronade!

Hi! cutlass and pike, as the great sides strike, —
Ho! the cheers of the ne'er-afraid!

For they cheered as they fought, did those sailor

men;

They stripped to the buff for the fray, —

It was steel to steel, it was eye to eye,
Yard-arm to yard-arm against the sky!
All ye boarders, up and away!

They sang of the men on the quarter-deck,
Brave deeds of those captains bold!
Never a name but was known to fame,
And was praised in the days of old.
Let us sing the song of the fighting men,

The sail and the plunging bow,

The good old song of the Sea and the Ship,
The song of the Then and Now!

Gone are the days of the heave and haul (Think ye our blood has thinned?); We're slaves of steam and science,

Not toilers of the wind!

Oh, the cable comes in to the cable tiers,

And no one lifts a hand;

The click of a bell sounds out, "That's well!"

And the engines understand!

We come in 'gainst the wind and the tide at

night,

And go out 'gainst the storm in the morn. (But think ye our arms have lost their might? Think ye our locks are shorn?)

Past are the days of Wind and Sail,
We've cast off the thrall of the sea,
We take no heed of the weather-gage, —
No fear of the rocks on the lee.

We can come and go in the fiercest blow
(It is food for our roaring fires!),

For the great screw churns, and the huge hull

turns

As the Soul of the Ship desires!

But the spirit, the strength, and the will are there,
The sea has not changed her men;

The ship must do, and the men must dare,
And Now is the same as Then!

THE SONG OF THEN AND NOW.

They raked and they fought at pistol-shot, —

We fight at two miles and more.

(Think ye their dangers discount ours,

Ye men of books ashore?)

The turret turns and the guns are trained,

But not in the older way;

The conning-tower is the one-man power
And the Soul of the Ship holds sway.
But in sponson, turret, and great barbette,
Or below in the noxious air,

Are brave forms covered with blood and sweat, The fighting men are there!

There are dangers our father wot not of (In the days of wind and sail):

The unseen foes and the sighted Death,

With the foam along the rail.

The channels are filled with uncouth shapes

That lurk below in the brine,

The force of fifty ships is there

In the sullen, sunken mine!

Tho' no orders come from the quarter-deck, Hear the rip of the rapid fire!

Full speed ahead, astern, or check,

At a spark from the semaphore wire!

And the ship she trembles from top to keel, Tho' she rates twelve thousand tons!