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“Thompson,” cries t other, “who the devil's he?” “I know not,” King replies, “but want to see
What kind of animal will now appear."
After some time a little Frenchman came;
The other held a thing they called culotte ;
Scarce lialf awake, he heaved a yawning note.:
Though tlıus untimely roused le courteous smiled, And soon addressed our wag in accents mild,
Bending his head politely to his knee, “Pray, sare, vat vant you, dat you come so late ? I beg your pardon, sare, to make you vait;
Pray tell me, sare, vat your commands vid me?”
“Sir," replied King, "I merely thought to know, As by your louse I chanced to-night to go
(But, really, I disturbed your sleep, I fear), I say, I thouglit, that you perlaps could tell, Among the folks who in this quarter dwell,
If there's a Mr. Thompson lodges here?"
The shivering Frenchman, though not pleased to find The business of this unimportant kind,
Too simple to suspect ’t was meant in jeer, Shrugged out a sigh that thus his rest was broke, Then, with unaltered courtesy, le spoke;
No, sare, no Monsieur Touson lodges hero.''
Our wag begged pardon, and toward home he sped, While the poor Frenchmi crawled again to bed.
But King resolved not thus to drop the jest; So, the next night, with more of whim than grace, Again he made a visit to the place,
To break once more the poor oli Frenchman's rest.
Thus drawling out to heighten the surprise,
“ Is there-a Mr. Thompson-lodges here?"
The Frenchiman faltered, with a kind of fright,“Vy, sare, I'm sure I told you, sare, last night
(And here lie labored, with a siglı sincere), No Monsieur Tonson in the varl I know, No Monsieur Tonson here, -I told you so ;
Indeed, sare, dare no Monsieur Tonson liere !"
Some more excuses tenderea, off King goes,
The rogue next night pursued liis old career. 'T was long indeed before the man came nigh, And then lie uttered, in a piteous cry,
“Sare, 'pon my soul, no Alonsieur Tonson bere !" Our sportive wight his usual visit paid, And the next night came forth a prattling maid,
Whose tongue, indeed, than any Jack went faster ; Anxious, she strove lis errand to inquire, He said 't was vain her pretty tongue to tire,
Ile should not stir till he had seen her master.
The damsel then began, in doleful state,
And begged he'd call at proper time of day.
But first had much of deep concern to say.
Thus urged, she went the snoring man to call,
Ere she could rouse the torpid lump of clay.
When King attacked him in his usual way.
The Frenchman now perceived 't was all in vain
And straight in rage began his crest to rear; “ Sare, vat the devil make you treat me so ? Sare, I inform you, sare, three nights ago,
Got tam-I swear, no Monsieur Tonson here!"
True as the night, King went, and heard a strife
Which would descend to chase the fiend away.
At length, to join their forces they agree,
Prepared with mutual fury for the fray.
Uttering the old inquiry, calmly stood.
With " Well, I'll call when you 're in gentler mood."
So fond of mischief was the wicked wit:
Monsieur at last was forced his house to quit.
Six lingering years were there his tedious lot.
Aud his long absence is at once forgot.
He fain must stroll, the well-known haunt to trace. “Ah! here's the scene of frequent mirth,'' lie said; “My poor old Frenchiman, I suppose, is dead.
Egad, I'll knock, and see who holds the place." With rapid strokes he makes the inansion roar, And while he cager eyes the opening door,
Lo! who obeys the knocker's rattling peal?
Capricious turn of sportive Fortune's wheel !
Just in his former trim he now appears ;
And King's detested voice astonished hears.
As if some hideous spectre struck his sicht,
« CORPORAL Green !!' the Orderly cried ;
om the lips of the soldier who stood near And “Here!" was the word the next replied.
“Cyrus Drew !!!—then a silence fell,
This time no answer followed the call;
Only his rear-man lad seen him fail, Killed or wounded, he could not tell.
There they stood in the failing light,
These men of battle, with grave, dark looks,
As plain to be read as open books,
The fern on the hill-sides was splashed with blood,
And down in the corn where the poppies grew
Were redder stains than the poppies knew; And crimson-alyed was the river's liood.
For the foe had crossed from the other side
That day, in the face of a murderous fire
That swept them down in its terrible ire; And their life-blood went to color the tide.
“ Herbert Kline!" At the call tliere came
Two stalwart soldiers into the line,
Bearing between them this lierbert Kline, Wounded and bleeding, to answer lis name.
“Ezra Kerr !”—and a voice answered, “Here !"
“Hiram Kerr !!!-but no man replied.
They were brothers, these two; the sad winds sighed, And a shudder crept through the cornfield near.
'T was a victory; yes, but it cost us dear,-
For that company's roll, when called at night,
Of a hundred men who went into the fight,
N. G. Shepherd.
The following poem is a translation from the Russian. It has been translafed into Japanese, by order of the Emperor, and is hung up, embroidered with gold, in the temple of Jeddo. It has also been translated into the Chincse and Tartar languages, written on a piece of rich silk, and suspended in thu inaperial palace at Pekin.
O TIMU eternal One! whose presence bright
In its sublime research, philosophy
Thou from primeval nothingness didst call,
Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround;