Year: 1862

BY MRS NORTON.
A soldier of the Legion


Lay dying in Algiers;
There was lack of fwoman's nursing,
There was dearth of woman's tears
But O comrade stood beside him,
While his life blood ebbed away,
And bent with plying glanees


To hear what he might say.
The dying soldier faltersd,


AS he took that comrades hand,
And he said 81 never mere shall see
My own, my native land;
Take message and token


To some distant friends Of mine;
Fer was born at Bingen-


At Bingen on the Rhine.
"Tell my brothers and companions.
When they meet and crowd around,
To hear my mournful story,


In the pleasant vineyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely-
And when the day was done,
Full many corse lay ghastly pale
Beneatn the setIlnS sun
And midst the dead and dying,
We're some grown old in wars
The death wounds on their gallant breasts,
The last of many scars;
But some were young, and suddenly
Beheld lifs's morn decline,
And one had come from Bingen-
From Bingen on the Rhine.
"TeH my mother that her other sons
Shall comfort her old age,
For l was still truant bird
That thought his home cage;
For my father was soldier,


And even when child
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell
Of struggles fierce and wild F;
And when he died and left US


To divide his scanty hoard,
let them take whate'r they would
But kept my fathers sword
And with boyish love hung it
Where the bright light used to shine,
On the cottage wall at Bingen-
Calm Bingen on the Rhine.
Tell my sister not to weep for me,
And sob with dropping head,
When the troops come marching homo again
With glad and gallant tread
But to look upon them proudly,


With calm and steadfast eye,
For her brother was soldier, too,
And not afl aid to die
And if comrade seek her love,
I ask her in my name
To listen to him kindly,


Without regret or shame.
And to hang the old sword in its place
My fathers sword and mine,
Fer the honor of old Bingen-


Dear Bingen on the Rhine,
There's another-not sister
In happy days gone by
You'd have known her by the merriment
That sparkled in her eye;
Too innocent for coquetry.
To fond for idle scorning;
o, friend, l fear the lightest heart
Makes sometimes heaviest mourning,
Tell her the last night Of my life


For ere the moon has risen
My body will be out of pain,


My soul be out of prison
dreamed 1 stood beside her and saw
The yellow sunlight shine
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen-
Fair Bingen on the Rhine.
VI saw the blue Rhine sweep along
/ heard, or seemed to hear,
The German songs we used to sing,
In chorus sweet and clear;
And down the pleasant river,


And up the slansng hill
The echoing chorus sounded


Through the evening calm and still
And her glad blue eyes were on me,
As we passed with friendly talk,
Down many path believed of yore,
And well-remembered walk;
And her little hand lay lightly


And confdingly in mine
But we'll meet no more at Bingen-
Loved Bingen on the Rhine ~
His voice grew faint and hoarse-


His grasp was childish weak
His eye put on dying look
He sighed. and ceased to speak
His comrade bent to lift him,


But the spark of life had fed,
The soldier of the Legien


In a foreign land was dead
And the soft moon rose up slowly,


And calmly she looked down
On the red sand of the battlefield


With bloody corpsss strewn
Yes, calmly en- that dreadful scene


Her pale light seemed to shine,
AS it shone on distant Bingen-


Fair Bingen on the Rhinel
PAINTING Every farmer has severe
hundred dollars invested in wagons, carti
machines and implements Now how muc
lenger weuld these all last if every crac
joint and pore were always kept well file
with good oil paint? Probably on an ayel