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THE MIDNIGHT GROSS.
IN IDYLS.
Tha Boy Knights.
Os the illustrious valor and integrity that
crowded the Ilound Table of King Arthur,
the most favored seems to have been a Boy—
Sir Galahad of the White Armor. Nearest
to tho heart of his Sovereign, a tender light
envelopes him completely; and he moves
without “spot or stain, or any such thing.”
To him alone was permitted that perfect
vision of the Holy Grail, in pursuit of which
the veteran chivalry of the Table finally wore
itself away.
To a careless observer, a Sir Galahad would
seem as difficult to find as the Holy Grail
itself; and much of mistrust will gather about
the narrative which offers to witness of such.
Yet this is the object of the two poems fol
lowing. They refer to two boys, representing
the world’s extreme distinctions. The writer
knew them well, and has put down the literal
truth of what he knew.
He submits to the wisdom of his readers
whether other boys may not deserve more of
the respect which wo gladly concede to Sir
Galahad.
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Littlf. Giffen.
\u (J\ UT of the focal and foremost fire !
1 Gut of the hospital-walls, as diro I
U \jJ Smitten of grape-shot and gan
fgrene;
Eighteenth battle, and He, six
teen—
Spf.ctre! such as you seldem see, —
Little Giffen, of Tennesseol
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“ Take him and welcome I ” the surgeons
said—
Little tho Doctor can help the Dead I
So, we took him I—and1 —and brought him where
The balm was sweet in the summer air;
And we laid him down on a wholesome bed —
Utter Lazarus, heel to head 1
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And we watched the war with abated breath —
Skeleton Boy against Skeleton Death 1 —
Months of torture, how many such 1
Weary weeks of the stick and crutch;
And still a glint of the steel blue eye
Told of a spirit that wouldn’t die!
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And didn’t —nay, more! —in death’s despite
The erippled skeleton “ learned to write! ”
Dear Mother: at first, of course; and
then,
Dear Captain ; enquiring about the men.
Captain’s answer: —Os eighty and five,
Giffen and I are left alive !
Word of gloom, from the War, one day ;
Johnson pressed at the front, they say ;
Little Giffen was up and away!—
A tear—his first—as he bade good bye,
Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye;
I’ll write, if spared!” — there was news of
fight.
But none of Giffen!—He did not write !
I sometimes fancy that—were I King
Os the princely Knights of the golden ring—
With tho song of the minstrel in mine ear,
And the tender legend that trembles here—
I’d give the best on his bended knee, '
The whitest soul of my chivalry,
For— LiTrLE Giffen, of Tennessee!
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
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William Nelson Carter,
Soldier of the South at 16; of Christ at 19;
Dead at 21.
(((7VPOKE from the stainless azure
.Os immemorial veins—
War for the Right is over,
(\ycrt Battle for Bread remains.
\Y r; J And he carried his bright smile
VD from us,
T Our choral of bird and breeze,
To the light of the tideless summers,
The song of the tropic seas.
So Far !—yet his clear soul’s brightness
Drew nearer, and never cold;
Found speech in the sea-bloom’s whiteness,
And kisses in fruits of gold.
And sweeter than day-spring’s murmur
To the Palm when the spice-wind stirs,
Were the voices that sang from the Sum
mer—
“ Your*darling has won his spurs! ”
And we sang to the voice of the Summer]
With a smile that was glad to tears—
If your sea or your sand yield Honor,
Trust to the Cavaliers!
Sang I —with the summer stooping
To shatter us, root and crest —
With the lightning to signal, "drooping,”
And tho thunder to crash —" At Rest ! ”
Dumb 1 and tho clouds close o’er us,
And the world reels blank and dim !
Blind 1 with our hands before us,
Beseeching the mists for Him 1
Christ’s Soldier ! Through all tho sha
dows
One Lily of Light shall riso—
Not far ! —though it smiles from the meadows
And gummere of Paradise.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE YOUNG EXPLORERS;
OR, 80Y-UFE IN TEXAS.
' BY JOHN C. DUVAL,
Author of “ Jack Dobell; or, A Boy's Ad
ventures in Texas," “ The Adventures
of Big-Foot Wallaceetc
CHAPTER XVI.
Cudjo Astonishes the Wolves—The Loho —Wild
Turkeys Emigrating—The "Mirage.”
THING the night, great num
ers w °l v es congregated
around our camp, attracted,
we supposed, bjr the smell of our jerked
venison. Their incessant howling at
length roused up every one. Indeed,
sleep was out of the question amid such
an uproar. It was so terrific that even
Cudjo was awakened from his peaceful
slumbers.
“Bress de Lord,” he muttered, “I
nebber hear sich a racket in my born
days. I spec all de wolf in Texas come
here to camp meetin’ to-night. I wish
Mass Seth only let me gin ’em one
1 blizzard,’ I bet I make ’em yelp t’other
side dere inout.”
“ ’Spose you do try your hand at ’em,
Cudjo,” said Uncle Seth; “’twont do
no harm ; and I’m affeared if something
aint done to make ’em hush up, they’ll
scare our horses into another stampede. ’ ’
Thus encouraged, Cudjo jumped up,
and seized his blunderbuss, into which
he had rammed a double charge of pow
der and buckshot.
“Mind, don’t shoot towards the
horses,” said Uncle Seth, “but take
good aim right at the thick of the
howling.”
“ Dat’s jess what I’m gwying to do,”
said Cudjo, and levelling his piece at
“the thick of the howling,” he pulled
the trigger. A report followed like that
of a small cannon, and the next mo
ment Cudjo was sprawling among the
ashes, from which, however, he quickly
scrambled, bringing with him an over
powering smell of singed wool.
“ I tink dey quit dere yowling now,”
said he, “ for I ’spec I kill ’em all! but,
bress de Lord, de gun kick me worse’n
a pack-mule.”
We did not suppose that Cudjo had
killed all the wolves, as he asserted ;
nevertheless, the report of the blun
derbuss had evidently astonished them
very much, for their howling ceased
entirely, and our slumbers were not
disturbed during the rest of the night.
The next morning we were all roused
up by the triumphant exclamations of
Cudjo over the carcase of a huge lobo ,
which had been killed by the discharge
of his fusee.
“Look at dat feller, will you,” said
he, as he dragged the defunct lobo to
the fire ; “ I knowed I git some of ’em
when dat gun go off lass night. Golly?
what tush! I tell you I ruther meet
Sally Ann of a dark night any time, dan
sich a lookin’ fellow as dat. But I
’spec he won’t come yowling aroun’
here any more.”
He was indeed one of the largest
lobos we had ever seen. The lobo is a
species of wolf that is peculiar to Texas
and the great plains of the West. They
are larger and more ferocious than the
common black or brown wolf, from
which they also differ in many other
particulars. Their howl is hoarser and
more prolonged, and their form is more
like that of the hyena than the common
wolf. Their color is either a dark
brown or gray.
As soon as breakfast was dispatched,
we saddled up, and, mounting our
steeds, turned our faces once more to
the unexplored regions of the “Far
West.” Up to this time we had tra
velled a pretty well defined trail or
trace, leading from San Antonio to the
settlements on the Rio Grande; but
after crossing the Hondo, we left this
trail, and steered a course in a direct
line to the lower pass of the Canon de
Uvalde, on the Sabinal. Occasionally,
we struck an old buffalo or mustang
trail, which we followed as long as it
did not deviate materially from our di
rection ; but we usually travelled with
out any trail at all, guided solely by a
pocket compass, which Mr. Pitt had
been provident enough to bring along
with him.
No fresh Indian sign was seen to-day,
except a few signal smokes a long way
off to the north-west of us. About noon
we halted on the bank of an arroyo,*
for the purpose of grazing and resting
our animals. Here we saw an unusual
sight—an immense drove of wild tur
keys emigrating from one part of the
country to another. Our attention was
first drawn to them by an incessant
noise of clucking and gobbling, and in
a few minutes afterwards, the head of
the column made its appearance over
the brow of a gentle elevation to our
left. They were coming directly towards
us, and very soon we found ourselves
surrounded by thousands. They paid no
attention whatever to us or our horses,
merely dividing their columns to avoid
us, as they would when a tree or other
obstacle stood in their way. They were
moving in a south-westerly direction,
and fully a quarter of an hour elapsed
before the last stragglers of this im
mense drove of turkeys had passed us.
A number of cayotes, foxes and rac
coons hovered about the Hanks and rear
of the drove, for the purpose, as we
supposed, of picking up any that might
be accidentally disabled, or give out on
their travels. We could easily have
killed as many of these turkeys as we
wished, but it would have been wanton
waste to have done so, as we had no
means of carrying them along with us,
consequently, we let them pass undis
turbed. I had heard old frontiersmen
say that turkeys sometimes emigrated
from one section of the country to an
other in fftese vast droves, but this was
the first time anything of the sort had
ever come under my own observation.
After resting an hour or two, we pro
ceeded on our way, and did not halt
again until we struck the Seco Creek,
about twenty-five miles distant from our
last camp on the Hondo. We had gone
but a little way from the arroyo, on
which we had nooned, when we wit
nessed one of those singular phenomena
called “mirages,” which are frequently
seen on the great plains of the West.
To the south of us a level plain extend
ed, without a single tree or shrub upon
it, as far as the eye could reach. Sud
denly a large lake, with a forest upon
its farther side, made its appearance on
this prairie, apparently some three or
four miles distant from us. We knew
there was neither forest nor lake in that
direction, for only a few moments pre
viously we had noticed that nothing but
an extensive prairie existed in that
quarter; nevertheless, the picture was
so perfect and distinct, we were half in
clined to believe that our eyes had been
deceived in the first instance, and that
the forest and lake were realities. The
forest seemingly came up to the very
edge of the lake on the side opposite to
us, and the inverted shadows of the
trees were plainly depicted in the waters
below them—the shadows of a shadow.
“Bress de Lord,” said Cudjo, “I
* A small stream.