10 WtCS, o 
 
 
University of California Berkeley 
 
 Gift of 
 ROBERT B. HONEYMAN, JR. 
 
/7 s 
 
 A COLLECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 MILITARY VERSE, 
 
 TOGETHER WITH THE SPECIAL POEM, 
 
 ILLUSTRATED, 
 
 CADET GREY; 
 
 BY 
 
 BRET HARTE. 
 
 HOMER LEE & Co., NEW YORK. 
 
 1878. 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1878, 
 BY HOMER LEE & CO. 
 
 (ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.) 
 
 HOMER LEE & CO., 
 
 65 LIBERTY STREET, NEW YOKK. 
 
CADETS AND GRADUATES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNITED TATE MILITARY 
 
REFACE. 
 
 favor with which "Fag Ends "was received, excited the desire 
 of preparing a book on West Point and Army Life which should 
 surpass every other work of the kind. 
 
 In order to perfect the plan of making for the Military Academy, a 
 companion-book to " Fag Ends from the Naval Academy," we have 
 secured the cooperation of some of the ablest authors and artists in 
 the country. 
 
 It is for others to judge of the merit of the undertaking : what we 
 know is, that neither care nor expense has been spared to achieve success. 
 
More than half the book consists of new matter. "Cadet Grey," by BRET HARTE, is the 
 longest and most elaborate contribution to American poetry of its distinguished author. The 
 structure of the verse is in the Spenserian measure, and is in the narrative manner of BYRON'S 
 "Childe Harold" and "Don Juan." 
 
 The poem which Mr. HARTE has written for this book contains the first song " Not Yet " 
 he ever composed. This, with the " Bugle Calls " so happily introduced, have been set to music 
 by HARRISON MILLARD, one of our most popular composers. 
 
 The illustrations, which are from original pen drawings, were all made expressly for this col 
 lection by TH. NAST, WELDON, DARLEY, MORAN, KELLY, HOPKINS, and others ; and will be found, 
 alike in conception and execution, far above any others ever attempted in a book of this character. 
 It will gratify Mr. NAST'S many Army friends to find that he has contributed to the illustrations; 
 and our thanks are cordially rendered to him, as well as to Messrs. HARPER & BROTHERS, for 
 granting us his valuable aid, and for other courtesies. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 9 CADET GREY, 
 
 by BRET HARTE. 
 
 SONGS 
 
 CADET 
 
 47 Benny Havens, Oh ! 
 
 55 First Night on Post, 
 
 57 Same at Same 
 
 59 Mon Cadet, 
 
 60 Dot Deutschcr Kadett, . . 
 62 Nigger Jim, . . . . 
 64 Kept Back on Furlough, . 
 
 66 Return of the Furloughman, . 
 
 67 The Plebe's Lament, . 
 
 69 The Plebe's Prayer, .... 
 
 69 The Plebe's Valentine, 
 
 70 My Old Reveilles, .... 
 
 71 He Done his Level Best, . 
 
 71 Ode to Mademoiselle Anna Lytical, 
 
 72 'Epigram, 
 
 73 Who Fired that Gun in the Area?. 
 
 74 One Hundred Days to June, 
 
 7 5 Shoulder Straps 
 
 76 To " Seventy-Six," 
 
 77 An Old Cadet's Advice, . 
 
 79 West Point 
 
 80 Our Four O'Clocks, 
 
 8 1 Description of a Cadet Hop, 
 
 82 J'aime les Militaires, 
 
 86 Romance on the Hudson, 
 
 87 Reality on the Plains, 
 
 88 The Old South Gate, 
 
 89 A Cadet Hash 
 
 93 Her Treasures 
 
 6 
 
 AND 
 
 Lieut. O' 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 'Brien, and many others. 
 Wickliffe '72. 
 Howe '78. 
 By a Lady Visitor. 
 Goode '79. 
 Howland '76. 
 Howland '76. 
 
 Hoyle '73. 
 Howe '78. 
 
 J. R. Riblett '72. 
 
 Stevenson '78. 
 
 T. B. Nichols '72. 
 
 Edgar Allan Poe. 
 
 Casey '72. 
 
 Howland '76. 
 
 Col. G. D. Brewerton. 
 
 L. C. Strong. 
 Prof. Bailey. 
 By a Survivor. 
 B. H. Craig. 
 
 Mrs. Gen.Winfield Scott. 
 S. H. Lockett '59. 
 Mary Ange De Vere. 
 
 95 
 
 97 
 
 98 
 
 101 
 
 103 
 
 103 
 
 1 06 
 107 
 1 08 
 109 
 no 
 III 
 
 "3 
 114 
 117 
 118 
 119 
 1 20 
 123 
 124 
 126 
 
 An Invitation to the Army, . 
 A Graduating Song, . 
 Song of the Class of '79, 
 Army Blue, 
 Requiem to Benny Havens, 
 
 Patrick Costigan. 
 Class of '47. 
 Huse '79. 
 L. W. Becklaw. 
 J. Bratt '37. 
 
 In Memoriam (Col.) A. E. Church, LL.D., J. Bratt '37. 
 
 ARMY POEMS. 
 
 Our Skeleton Army, . 
 
 Custer 
 
 The Cavalry Charge, 
 Old Comanche, . 
 Before the Attack, . 
 Wrath of the Black Hills, . 
 Revenge of Rain-in-the-Face, 
 The Flower of Liberty, . 
 Towards the Setting Sun, 
 Rifle and Bow, 
 
 Monterey 
 
 Bivouac of the Dead, . 
 The Blue and the Gray, . 
 The Pride of Battery B., 
 The Irish Picket, 
 
 W. A. Croffut. 
 Edmund C. Stedman. 
 Edmund C. Stedman. 
 
 Col. A. T. Lee. 
 
 H. W. Longfellow. 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 
 "T." 
 
 R. H. Stoddard. 
 
 Charles Fenno Hoffman. 
 
 Theo. O'Hara. 
 
 F. M. Finch. 
 
 F. H. Gassaway. 
 
 Orpheus C. Kerr. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 129 Glossary of Technical Terms. 
 
 132 Squibs from the Skinbook. 
 
 133 Explanations of the " 
 
 134 Appointment of Cadets. 
 136. An Historical Leaf. 
 139 Military Autographs. 
 
 153 Autographs for Fair Hands. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 CADET GREY. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 8 Beware ! 
 
 9 Cadet Grey (Title Page) . 
 
 10 Interior. A Study, .... 
 
 1 1 Competitive Examination, 
 
 1 3 Coat of Arms, and Appointment, 
 
 14 West Point, from across the Hudson, 
 
 1 5 Seacoast Battery by Night, 
 
 1 6 Ruins of Fort Putnam, .... 
 
 17 Inside Old Fort Clinton, 
 
 1 8 The Encampment by Night, 
 
 20 Battery Knox, looking down the River, 
 
 21 Interior of a Section Room, 
 
 22 Departure of Serenaders, 
 
 23 Miss Kitty Rover, 
 
 24 Not Yet (Music), 
 
 27 Second Exercise Squad Drill, . 
 
 29 Doing Police Detail 
 
 30 Reveille (Music), Bugle Call, 
 
 31 Farewell Hop in the Mess Hall, . 
 
 32 On Flirtation Walk 
 
 34 At Kosciusko's Spring, 
 
 35 Steps leading to " Flirtation," 
 
 36 Old Bentz, the Bugler (Portrait), . 
 36 The Barracks by Moonlight, 
 
 36 Bugle Song (Music) 
 
 37 "The Red Marauders of the Western Land, 
 39 The Disguised Rescuer, 
 
 41 The Pursuit 
 
 43 Cupid in Uniform 
 
 
 
 CADET SONGS. 
 
 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 
 
 Th. Nast. 
 
 45 
 
 Saturday Night in Barracks, 
 
 Weldon. 
 
 Weldon. 
 
 48 
 
 Benny Havens (Portrait), . 
 
 . Zenophe. 
 
 
 
 55 
 
 Ghosts, First Night on Post, . 
 
 L. Hopkins. 
 
 
 
 56 
 
 In the Trenches of Fort Clinton, 
 
 
 
 < 
 
 58 
 
 First Lessons in the School of the Soldier, 
 
 Weldon. 
 
 T. Moran. 
 
 60 
 
 Arrival of " Dot Deutscher Kadett," . 
 
 
 
 Weldon. 
 
 62 
 
 Nigger Jim. (James Smith, "76.) 
 
 Mowbray. 
 
 .. 
 
 67 
 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 w / 
 
 67 
 
 Policing a First Classman's Tent, 
 
 tt 
 
 H 
 
 68 
 
 Double Time, Exercising New Cadets, 
 
 . 
 
 It 
 
 68 
 
 Tion Squad. On the Plain, . 
 
 " 
 
 " 
 
 73 
 
 Who Fired that Gun in the Area ? 
 
 . Weldon. 
 
 " 
 
 83 
 
 Plebe Camp. By a Plebe. Four Views, 
 
 Mowbray. 
 
 " 
 
 84 
 
 " " " (Cont'd.) Four 
 
 Views, " 
 
 H. Millard. 
 
 85 
 
 Sho'wing Weight of a Plebe 's Gun, 
 
 . 
 
 Weldon. 
 
 90 
 
 A Genuine Cadet Hash 
 
 ... L. Hopkins. 
 
 ii 
 
 9i 
 
 The Surprise, 
 
 " 
 
 H. Millard. 
 
 Q2 
 
 
 
 Gray- Parker. 
 
 7 
 
 IOI 
 
 Army Blue. The Race for the Cup, . 
 
 . C. Osborne. 
 
 Weldon. 
 
 
 ARMY POEMS. 
 
 
 
 IOC 
 
 Our Skeleton U. S. A 
 
 Th. Nast. 
 
 " 
 
 VJ 
 
 112 
 
 Battle of the Little Big Horn. (Juengling, 
 
 Sc.) Kelly. 
 
 flecker 
 
 116 
 
 Towards the Setting Sun 
 
 L. Hopkins. 
 
 
 118 
 
 Rifle and Bow, . . 
 
 
 H. Millard. 
 
 \\T 1 A 
 
 127 
 
 The Irish Picket 
 
 L. Hopkins. 
 
 Weldon. 
 
 
 
 
 F. O. C. Darley. 
 
 
 AUTOGRAPHS. 
 
 
 " 
 
 139 
 
 Military Design, . 
 
 Weldon. 
 
 Weldon. 
 
 153 
 
 Fan " . ... 
 
 ' 
 
BEWARE ! 
 
I3RET MARTE- 
 
 i. 
 
 CT first, scene first. A study. Of a kind 
 Half cell, half salon, opulent yet grave; 
 
 Rare books, low shelved, yet far above the mind 
 Of common man to compass or to crave ; 
 
 Some slight relief of pamphlets that inclined 
 The soul at first to trifling, till dismayed 
 
 By text and title, it drew back resigned, 
 Nor cared with levity to vex a shade 
 That to itself such perfect concord made. 
 
 Copyright, 1878, by Homer Lee A Co. 
 
 9 
 
"A STUDY. OF A KIND HALF CELL, HALF salon, OPULENT YET GRAVE' 
 
II. 
 
 Some thoughts like these perplexed the patriot brain 
 Of Jones Lawgiver to the Commonwealth, 
 
 As on the threshold of this chaste domain 
 
 He paused expectant and looked up in stealth 
 
 To darkened canvases that frowned amain, 
 With stern-eyed Puritans, who first began 
 
 To spread their roots in Georgius Primus 1 reign, 
 Nor dropped till now, obedient to some plan, 
 Their century fruit the perfect Boston man. 
 
 in. 
 
 Somewhere within that Russia scented gloom 
 
 A voice, catarrhal, thrilled the Member's ear, 
 "Brief is our business, Jones. Look round this room! 
 Regard yon portraits ! Read their meaning clear. 
 
 These much proclaim my station. I presume 
 Yon are our Congressman, before whose wit 
 
 And sober judgment shall the youth appear 
 
 Who for West Point is deemed most just and fit 
 To serve his country, and to honor it." 
 
 " ELSEWHERE, TRIAL COMPETITIVE. 
 
 I I 
 
IV. 
 
 " Such is my son ! Elsewhere, perhaps 'twere wise, 
 
 Trial competitive should guide your choice. 
 There are some people I can well surmise 
 
 Themselves must show their merit. History's voice 
 Spares me that trouble. All desert that lies 
 
 In yonder ancestor, of Queen Anne's day, 
 Or yon grave Governor is all my hoy's ; 
 
 Reverts to him ; entailed, as one might say ; 
 
 In brief, result in Winthrop Adams Grey !" 
 
 v. 
 
 He turned and laid his well-bred hand, and smiled 
 On the cropped head of one who stood beside. 
 
 Ah me ! in sooth, it was no ruddy child, 
 
 Nor brawny youth that thrilled the father's pride 
 
 'Twas but a Mind that somehow had beguiled 
 From soulless Matter processes that served 
 
 For speech and motion and digestion mild, 
 Content if all one moral purpose nerved, 
 Nor recked thereby its spine were somewhat curved. 
 
 VI. 
 
 He was scarce eighteen. Yet ere he was eight 
 He had despoiled the classics ; much he knew 
 
 Of Sanscrit ; not that he placed undue weight 
 On this, but that it helped him with Hebrew, 
 
 His favorite tongue. He learned, alas ! too late, 
 One can't begin too early. Would regret 
 
 That boyish whim to ascertain the state 
 Of Venus' atmosphere made him forget 
 That philologic goal on which his soul was set. 
 
 vn. 
 
 He too had travelled. At the age of ten 
 Found Paris empty, dull except for Art, 
 
 And accent. Mabille with its glories then 
 Less than Egyptian Almees, touched a heart 
 
 Nothing if not pure classic. If some men 
 Thought him a prig, it vexed not his conceit, 
 
 But moved his pity, and ofttimes his pen 
 
 The better to instruct them, through some sheet 
 Published in Boston, and signed ' Beacon Street." 
 
 12 
 
VIII. 
 
 From premises so plain the blind could see 
 But one deduction, and it came next day. 
 "In times like these, the very name of G 
 
 Speaks volumes," wrote the Honorable J. 
 " Enclosed please find appointment." Presently 
 
 Came a Reception to which Harvard lent 
 Fourteen professors, and to give esprit, 
 The Liberal Club some eighteen ladies sent, 
 Five that spoke Greek and thirteen sentiment. 
 
 Four poets came who loved each other's song, 
 
 And two philosophers who thought that they 
 Were in most things impractical and wrong ; 
 And two Reformers, each in his own way 
 Peculiar. One who had waxed strong 
 
 On herbs and water, and such simple fare ; 
 Two foreign lions, " Ram See " and " Chy Long," 
 And several artists claimed attention there, 
 Based on the fact they had been snubbed elsewhere. 
 
With this endorsement nothing now remained 
 
 But counsel, God speed, and some calm adieux ; 
 No foolish tear the father's eyelash stained, 
 
 And Winthrop's cheek as guiltless shone of dew. 
 A slight publicity, such as obtained 
 
 In classic Rome, these last few hours attended. 
 The day arrived, the train and depot gained 
 
 The mayor's own presence this last act commended ; 
 
 The train moved off, and here the first act ended. 
 
CANTO II. 
 
 HERE West Point crouches and with lifted shield 
 Turns the whole river, eastward, through the pass ; 
 
 Whose jutting crags, half silver, stand revealed 
 Like bossy bucklers of Leonidas ; 
 
 Where .buttressed low against the storms that wield 
 Their summer lightnings where her eaglets swarm, 
 
 By Freedom's cradle Nature's self has steeled 
 Her heart, like Winkelried, and to that storm 
 Of levelled lances bares her bosom warm. 
 
 Ji. 
 
 But not to-night. The air and woods are still, 
 
 The faintest rustle in the trees below, 
 The lowest tremor from the mountain-rill, 
 
 Come to the ear as but the trailing flow 
 Of spirit robes that walk unseen the hill ; 
 
 The moon low sailing o'er the upland farm, 
 The moon low sailing where the waters fill 
 
 The lozenge lake, beside the banks of balm, 
 
 Gleams like a chevron on the river's arm. 
 
All space breathes languor ; from the hilltop high 
 Where Putnam's bastion crumbles in the past 
 
 To swooning depths where drowsy cannon lie 
 
 And wide-mouthed mortars gape in slumbers vast 
 
 Stroke upon stroke, the far oars glance and die 
 On the hushed bosom of the sleeping stream ; 
 
 Bright for one moment drifts a white sail by, 
 Bright for one moment shows a bayonet gleam 
 Far on the level plain, then passes as a dream. 
 
IV. 
 
 Soft down the line of darkened battlements, 
 Bright on each lattice of the barrack walls, 
 
 Where the low arching sallyport indents, 
 
 Seen through its gloom beyond the moonbeam falls ; 
 
 All is repose, save where the camping tents 
 
 Mock the white gravestones further on, where sound 
 
 No morning guns for reveille, nor whence 
 
 No drum-beat calls retreat, but still is ever found 
 Waiting and present on each sentry's round. 
 
 v. 
 
 Within the camp they lie, the young, the brave, 
 Half knight, half school-boy ; acolytes of fame, 
 
 Pledged to one altar and perchance one grave ; 
 Bred to fear nothing but reproach and blame, 
 
 Ascetic dandies o'er whom vestals rave, 
 
 Clean-limbed young Spartans, disciplined young elves ; 
 
 Taught to destroy, that they may live to save, 
 Students embattled, soldiers at their shelves, 
 Heroes \yhose conquests are at first themselves. 
 
VI. 
 
 Within the camp they lie, in dreams are freed 
 
 From the grim discipline they learn to love ; 
 In dreams no more the sentry's challenge heed, 
 
 In dreams afar beyond their pickets rove ; 
 One treads once more the piney paths that lead 
 
 To his Green Mountain home, and pausing hears 
 The cattle call ; one treads the tangled weed 
 
 Of slippery rocks beside Atlantic piers ; 
 
 One smiles in sleep, one wakens wet with tears. 
 
 VII. 
 
 One scents the breath of jasmine flowers that twine 
 The pillared porches of his Southern home ; 
 
 One hears the coo of pigeons in the pine 
 
 Of Western woods where he was wont to roam ; 
 
 One sees the sunset fire the distant line 
 
 Where the long prairie sweeps its levels down ; 
 
 One treads the snow peaks ; one, by lamps that shine 
 Down the broad highways of the sea-girt town, 
 And two are missing Cadets Grey and Brown ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Much as I grieve to chronicle the fact, 
 
 That self-same truant known as " Cadet Grey " 
 
 Was the young hero of our moral tract, 
 
 Shorn of his two-fold names on entrance-day. 
 " Winthrop " and "Adams " dropped in that one act 
 Of martial curtness, and the roll-call thinned 
 
 Of his ancestors, he with youthful tact 
 
 Indulgence claimed, since Winthrop no more sinned j 
 Nor sainted Adams winced when he, plain Grey, was 
 " skinned." 
 
 IX. 
 
 He had known trials since we saw him last, 
 By sheer good luck had just escaped rejection, 
 
 Not for his learning, but that it was cast 
 
 In a spare frame scarce fit for drill inspection ; 
 
 But when he ope'd his lips a stream so vast 
 Of information flooded each professor, 
 
 They quite forgot his eyeglass something past 
 All precedent accepting the transgressor, 
 Weak eyes and all, of which he was possessor. 
 
X. 
 
 E'en the first day he touched a blackboard's space 
 So the tradition of his glory lingers 
 
 Two wise professors fainted, each with face 
 White as the chalk within his rapid fingers : 
 
 All day he ciphered, at such frantic pace 
 His form was hid in chalk precipitation 
 
 Of every problem, till they said his case 
 Could meet from them no fair examination 
 Till Congress made a new appropriation. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Famous in molecules. He demonstrated 
 
 From the mess hash to many a listening classful ; 
 
 Great as a botanist, he separated 
 
 Three kinds of Mentha in one julep's glassful ; 
 
 High in astronomy, it has been stated 
 
 He was the first at West Point to discover 
 
 Mars' missing satellites, and calculated 
 
 Their true positions, not the heavens over, 
 But 'neath the window of Miss Kitty Rover. 
 
 21 
 
XII. 
 
 Indeed I fear this novelty celestial 
 
 That very night was visible and clear ; 
 At least two youths of aspect most terrestrial, 
 
 And clad in uniform, were loitering near 
 A villa's casement, where a gentle vestal 
 
 Took their impatience somewhat patiently, 
 Knowing the youths were somewhat green and 
 " bestial " 
 
 (A certain slang of the Academy 
 
 I beg the reader won't refer to me). 
 
 
 
 XIII. 
 
 For when they ceased their ardent strain, Miss Kitty 
 Glowed not with anger nor a kindred flame, 
 
 But rather flushed with an odd sort of pity, 
 
 Half matron's kindness, and half coquette's shame ; 
 
 Proud yet quite blameful, when she heard their ditty 
 She gave her soul poetical expression, 
 
 And being clever, too, as she was pretty, 
 
 From her high casement warbled this confession- 
 Half provocation and one half repression : 
 
A u Moderato e 
 
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XIV. 
 
 The strain was finished ; softly as the night 
 
 Her voice died from the window, yet e'en then 
 
 Fluttered and fell likewise a kerchief white ; 
 But that no doubt was accident, for when 
 
 She sought her couch she deemed her conduct quite 
 Beyond the reach of scandalous commentor 
 
 Washing her hands of either gallant wight, 
 Knowing the moralist might compliment her 
 Thus voicing Siren with the words of Mentor. 
 
 xv. 
 
 She little knew the youths below, who straight 
 Dived for her kerchief, and quite overlooked 
 
 The pregnant moral she would inculcate ; 
 
 Nor dreamed she less how little Winthrop brooked 
 
 Her right to doubt his soul's maturer state. 
 
 Brown who was Western, amiable, and new 
 
 Might take the moral and accept his fate; 
 The which he did but being stronger too, 
 Took the white kerchief, also, as his due. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 They did not quarrel, which no doubt seemed queer 
 To those who knew not how their friendship blended ; 
 
 Each were opposed, and each the other's peer, 
 Yet each the other in some things transcended. 
 
 Where Brown lacked culture, brains and oft I fear 
 Cash in his pocket Grey of course supplied him ; 
 
 Where Grey lacked frankness, force, and faith sincere, 
 Brown of his manhood suffered none to chide him, 
 But in his faults stood manfully beside him. 
 
' IN CAMP DRILL AND MARTIAL OCCUPATION." 
 
XVII. 
 
 In academic walks and studies grave, 
 
 In the camp drill and martial occupation, 
 
 They helped each other but just here I crave 
 Space for the reader's full imagination 
 
 The fact is patent, Grey became a slave ! 
 
 A tool, a fag, a " plebe !" To state it plainer 
 
 All that blue blood and ancestry e'er gave, 
 
 Cleaned guns, brought water ! was, in fact, retainer 
 To Jones, whose uncle was a paper stainer ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 How they bore this at home I cannot say : 
 I only know so runs the gossip's tale- 
 It chanced one day that the paternal Grey 
 
 Came to West Point, that he himself might hail 
 The future hero in some proper way 
 
 Consistent with his lineage. With him came 
 A judge, a poet, and a brave array 
 
 Of aunts and uncles, bearing each a name, 
 Eyeglass and respirator with the same. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Observe !" quoth Grey the elder to his friends, 
 " Not in these giddy youths at base-ball playing 
 You'll notice Winthrop Adams ! Greater ends 
 
 Than these absorb his leisure. No doubt straying 
 With Caesar's Commentaries, he attends 
 
 Some Roman council. Let us ask, however, 
 Yon grimy urchin, who my soul offends 
 By wheeling offal, if he will endeavor 
 To find what! heaven! Winthrop! Oh, no! 
 
 Never !" 
 
 xx. 
 
 Alas too true ! Th*e last of all the Greys 
 Was " doing Police detail ;" it had come 
 
 To this ; in vain were the historic bays - 
 
 That crowned the pictured Puritans at home ! 
 
 And yet 'twas certain that in grosser ways 
 
 Of health and physique he was quite improving. 
 
 Straighter he stood, and had achieved some praise 
 In other exercise, much more behooving 
 A soldier's taste, than merely dirt removing. 
 
NNvV^. 
 
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 "WHAT! HEAVEN! WINTHROP ! On, NO! NEVER!" 
 
XXI. 
 
 But to resume : we left the youthful pair, 
 Some stanzas back, before a lady's bower ; 
 
 Tis to be hoped they were no longer there, 
 For stars were pointing to the morning hour ; 
 
 Their escapade discovered, ill 'twould fare 
 With our two heroes, derelict of orders; 
 
 But, like the ghost, they " scent the morning air," 
 And back again they steal across the borders, 
 Unseen, unheeded by their martial warders. 
 
 3 
 
 XXII. 
 
 They got to bed with speed : young Grey to dream 
 Of some vague future with a General's star, 
 
 And Mistress Kitty basking in its gleam ; 
 While Brown, content to worship her afar, 
 
 Dreamed himself dying by some lonely stream- 
 Having snatched Kitty from eighteen Nez Perces- 
 
 Till a far bugle,* with the morning beam, 
 In his dull ear its fateful song rehearses, 
 Which Winthrop Adams after put to verses : 
 
'AT LAST CAME GRADUATION, THEN KROLIC, FLIRTING, PARTING " 
 
XXIII. 
 
 So passed three years of their novitiate, 
 
 The first real boyhood Grey had ever known. 
 
 His youth ran clear not choked, like his Cochituate, 
 In civic pipes, but free and pure alone ; 
 
 Yet knew repression, could himself habituate 
 To having mind and body well rubbed down, 
 
 Could read himself in others, and could situate 
 Themselves in him except, I grieve to own, 
 He couldn't see what Kitty saw in Brown ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 At last came graduation ; Brown received 
 In the One Hundredth Cavalry commission ; 
 
 Then frolic, flirting, parting when none grieved 
 Save Brown, who loved our young Academician, 
 
 And Grey, who felt his friend was still deceived 
 By Mistress Kitty, who, with other beauties 
 
 Graced the occasion, and it was believed 
 
 Had promised Brown that when he could recruit his 
 Promised command, she'd share with him those duties. 
 
 xxv. 
 
 Howe'er this be I know not ; all I know, 
 
 The night was June's, the moon rode high and clear, 
 " Twas such a night as this " -three years ago 
 
 Miss Kitty sang the song that two might hear. 
 There is a walk where trees o'erarching grow, 
 
 Too wide for one, not wide enough for three 
 (A fact precluding any plural beau), 
 
 Which quite explained Miss Kitty's company, 
 But not why Grey that favored one should be. 
 
 33 
 

 p 
 
 !'i~ "/vA.Wb .; 7 
 
 i;:<:3'.t^.v t WJ..WT 
 
XXVI. 
 
 There is a spring whose limpid waters hide 
 Somewhere within the shadows of that path 
 
 Called Kosciusko's. There two figures bide, 
 Grey and Miss Kitty. Surely Nature hath 
 
 No fairer mirror for a might-be bride 
 
 Than this same pool that caught our gentle belle 
 
 To its dark heart one moment. At her side 
 
 Grey bent. A something trembled o'er the well, 
 Bright, spherical a tear ? ah ! no, a button fell ! 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Material minds might think that gravitation," 
 
 Quoth Grey, " drew yon metallic spheroid down. 
 The soul poetic views the situation 
 
 Fraught with more meaning. When thy girlish 
 
 crown 
 Was mirrored there, there was disintegration 
 
 Of me, and all my spirit moved to you, 
 Taking the form of slow precipitation "- 
 
 But here came " Taps," a start, a smile, adieu ! 
 
 A blush, a sigh, and end of Canto II. 
 
 35 
 
BUGLE SONG. 
 
 -0 1 
 
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 Si 
 
 
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 JE3E 
 
 
 
 
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 - far.' Go - etk. day. Com - eiA. nfykt, dnd a. star Ztad- eik. 
 Zaire, yoad ttiykt! Mtut tkou. yo f WAen f/ie defy j/nd tie, mjJitJVeed thee so - Jfeed- eth 
 
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 Cs : 
 
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 all. speed- e& all To fair rest, 
 all Aeed-eih ail That .is lest.' 
 
 ' BKNTZ THE BUGLER." 
 
WHERE the sun sinks through leagues of arid sky, 
 Where the sun dies o'er leagues of arid plain, 
 
 Where the dead hones of wasted rivers lie, 
 
 Trailed from their channels in yon mountain chain ; 
 
 W T here, day by day, naught takes the wearied eye 
 But the low-rimming mountains, sharply based 
 
 On the dead levels, moving far or nigh, 
 As the sick vision wanders o'er the waste, 
 But ever, day by day, against the sunset traced : 
 
 37 
 
II. 
 
 There, moving through a poisonous cloud that stings 
 With dust of alkali the trampling band 
 
 Of Indian ponies, ride on dusky wings, 
 The red marauders of the Western land. 
 
 Heavy with spoil, they seek the trail that brings 
 Their flaunting lances to that sheltered bank 
 
 Where lie their lodges ; and the river sings 
 Forgetful of the plain beyond, that drank 
 Its life blood, where the wasted caravan sank. 
 
 in. 
 
 They brought with them the thief's ignoble spoil, 
 The beggar's dole, the greed of chiffonier, 
 
 The scum of camps, the implements of toil 
 
 Snatched from dead hands, to rust as useless here ; 
 
 All they could rake or glean from hut or soil 
 Piled their lean ponies, with the jackdaws greed 
 
 For vacant glitter. It were scarce a foil 
 To all this tinsel that one feathered reed 
 Bore on its barb two scalps that freshly bleed i 
 
 IV. 
 
 They brought with them, alas ! a wounded foe 
 Bound hand and foot, yet nursed with cruel care, 
 
 Lest that in death he might escape one throe 
 They had decreed his living flesh should bear ; 
 
 A youthful officer, by one foul blow 
 Of treachery surprised, yet fighting still 
 
 Amid his ambushed train, calm as the snow 
 Above him ; hopeless, yet content to spill 
 His blood with theirs, and fighting but to kill. 
 
 v. 
 
 He had fought nobly, and in that brief spell 
 
 Had won the awe of those rude border men 
 Who gathered round him, and beside him fell 
 
 In loyal faith and silence, save that when, 
 By smoke embarrassed, and near sight as well, 
 
 He paused to wipe his eyeglass, and decide 
 Its nearer focus, there arose a yell 
 
 Of approbation, and Bob Barker cried, 
 " Wade in, Dundreary !" tossed his cap, and died ! 
 
HUSH ! FOR YOUR LIFE AND MINE ; THE THONGS ARE CUT," 
 
VI. 
 
 Their sole survivor now ! his captors bear 
 Him all unconscious, and beside the stream 
 
 Leave him to rest ; meantime the squaws prepare 
 The stake for sacrifice ; nor wakes a gleam 
 
 Of pity in these Furies' eyes, that glare 
 Expectant of the torture ; yet alway 
 
 His steadfast spirit shines and mocks them there 
 With peace they know not ; till at close of day 
 On his dull ear there thrills a whispered " Grey !" 
 
 VII. 
 
 He starts ! Was it a trick ? Had angels kind 
 
 Touched with compassion some weak woman's 
 
 breast ? 
 Such things he'd read of! Faintly to his mind 
 
 Came Pocahontas, pleading for her guest. 
 But then this voice, though soft, was still inclined 
 
 To baritone ! A squaw in ragged gown 
 Stood near him frowning hatred. Was he blind ? 
 
 Whose eye was this beneath that beetling frown ? 
 
 The frown was painted, but that wink was Brown ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Hush ! for your life and mine ; the thongs are cut," 
 
 He whispers ; " in yon thicket stands my horse. 
 One dash ! I follow close, as if to glut 
 
 My own revenge, yet bar the others' course 
 Now !" And 'tis done. Grey speeds, Brown follows ; 
 
 but 
 
 Ere yet they reach the shade, Grey, fainting, reels- 
 Yet not before Brown's circling arms close shut 
 His' in, uplifting him ! Anon, he feels 
 A horse beneath him bound, and hears the rattling 
 heels. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then rose a yell of baffled hate, and sprang 
 Headlong the savages in swift pursuit ; 
 
 Though speed the fugitives, they hope to hang, 
 Hot on their heels, like wolves, with tireless foot. 
 
 Long is the chase ; Brown hears with inward pang 
 The short, hard panting of his gallant steed 
 
 Beneath its double burden ; vainly rang 
 
 Both voice and spur. The heaving flanks may bleed, 
 Yet comes the sequel that they still must heed ! 
 
 40 
 
"THEN ROSE A YKLL OF BAFFLED HATE. AND SPRANG HEADLONG THE SAVAGES IN SWIFT PURSUIT; 
 
X. 
 
 Brown saw it reined his steed ; dismounting, stood 
 
 Calm and inflexible. " Old chap, you see 
 There is but one escape. You know it ? Good ! 
 
 There is one man to take it. You are he. 
 The horse won't carry double. If he could 
 
 Twould but protract this bother. I shall stay ; 
 I've business with these devils they with me ; 
 
 Twill occupy them 'till you get away. 
 Hush ! Quick time, forward. There ! God bless you, 
 Grey." 
 
 XI. 
 
 But as he finished, Grey slipped to his feet, 
 
 Calm as his ancestors in voice and eye : 
 " You do forget yourself when you compete 
 Whose right it is to stay here and to die : 
 
 That's not your duty. Please regain your seat, 
 And take my ORDERS for I rank you here ! 
 
 Mount and rejoin your men, and my defeat 
 Report at Quarters. Take this letter ; ne'er 
 Give it to aught but her, though death should 
 interfere. 
 
 XII. 
 
 And, shamed and blushing, Brown the letter took 
 Obediently and placed it in his pocket, 
 
 Then drawing forth another, said, " I look 
 
 For death as you do, wherefore take this locket 
 
 And letter ;" here his comrade's hand he shook 
 In silence. " Should we both together fall, 
 
 Some other man " but here all speech forsook 
 His lips, as ringing cheerily o'er all 
 He heard afar his own dear bugle-call ! 
 
 . XIII. 
 
 Twas his command and succor, but e'en then 
 Grey fainted, with poor Brown, who had forgot 
 
 He likewise had been wounded, and both men 
 Were picked up quite unconscious of their lot. 
 
 Long lay they in extremity, and when 
 
 They both grew stronger and once more exchanged 
 
 Old vows and memories, one common " den " 
 In hospital was theirs, and free they ranged, 
 Awaiting orders, but no more estranged. 
 
 4 3 
 
XIV. 
 
 And yet 'twas strange nor can I end my tale 
 Without this moral, to he fair and just- 
 
 They never sought to know why each did fail 
 The prompt fulfilment of the other's trust. 
 
 It was suggested they could not avail 
 
 Themselves of either letter, since they were 
 
 Duly dispatched to their address hy mail, 
 By Captain X., who knew Miss Rover fair 
 Now meant stout Mistress Bloggs of Blank Blank 
 Square. 
 
'A^ few of the. songs the Cadets sing, 
 ~W~hen they cure 'blue* and ~weary, 
 
 And poems, that they've written when 
 The heart was glad and cheery." 
 
BENNY HAVENS, OH! 
 
 A SONG THAT IS SUNG BY THE SOLDIERS OF UNCLE SAM. 
 
 "BENNY" HAVENS, as all army men now living must know, was years ago a seller of contraband liquors and viands to the 
 Cadets at West Point. At last he tired out the patience of the officers of the Academy, who felt that they could not any longer 
 wink at his notorious infractions of the rule, that no liquors should be sold on the Government reservation at the Point, and 
 he was expelled from the grounds. But because he had been thus ejected he was not at all disposed to think that there should 
 be " no more cakes and ale," and he opened a regular establishment a mile or two down the river, at Highland Falls, which 
 soon became a favorite resort of the Cadets on convivial occasions, in most cases at the risk of dismissal. 
 
 The song which has carried the name of old BENNY around the world was originally composed by Dr. O'BRIEN, then a 
 lieutenant in the Eighth Infantry, on the occasion of a visit to his old friend, Major RIPLEY A. ARNOLD, then a " first class man " 
 residing in the old North Barracks at the Academy. They made many excursions to BENNY'S. The song was composed by 
 O'BRIEN and others, and set to the tune of "Wearing of the Green." It soon became popular, and year after year additional 
 verses have been composed by poets of succeeding classes, to suit certain events, as, for instance, to commemorate the memory 
 of a dead classmate, or to extol the names of heroes of war, until the original five verses have now swollen to this size the 
 greatest number of verses yet published, and believed to be complete up to date. 
 
 The verse commencing " From the courts of death and danger," was added after the death of the author, who laid down his 
 life for his country in Florida some thirty-five years ago. Toward the close of the poem are verses upon the death of the brave 
 McKiNNEY, and BENNY, the subject of the piece, whose death in May of '77 sent a pang through many an officer's heart; for few 
 of the older graduates are there who can lay their hands on their sword-hilts and swear they have never been to BENNY'S. 
 
 Perhaps the greatest admirer the immortal BENNY had among the Cadets was the poet EDGAR A. POE, who was dismissed 
 before completing his course. POE was perfectly infatuated with the old joker, and would steal away from the Academy and 
 sit from morning until night conversing with his host and drawing out the old man's peculiarities of character. BENNY used 
 to relate many interesting anecdotes of the poet, and was a great a'hnirer of the "Raven." 
 47 
 
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 P H 
 
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BENNY HAVENS. OH! 
 
 AIR Wearing of the Green. 
 A SONG THAT is SUNG BY THE SOLDIERS OF UNCLE SAM. 
 
 COME, fill your glasses, fellows, and stand up in a row ; 
 To singing sentimentally, we're going for to go ; 
 In the army there's sobriety, promotion's very slow, 
 So we'll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! 
 So we'll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Now Roe's Hotel's a perfect " fess," and Cozzens's all 
 
 the go, 
 
 And officers as thick as hops infest " The Falls " below ; 
 But we'll slip them all so quietly, as once a week we go 
 To toast the lovely flower that blooms at Benny Havens, 
 
 oh! 
 
 Oh! Benny Havens, oh! etc. 
 
 Let us toast our foster-father, the Republic, as you know, 
 Who in the paths of science taught us upward for to go ; 
 And the maiden, of our native land, whose cheeks like 
 
 roses glow, 
 They're oft remembered in our cups, at Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 49 
 
 To the ladies of the Empire State, whose hearts, and 
 albums too, 
 
 Bear sad remembrance of the wrongs we stripling 
 soldiers do, 
 
 We bid a fond adieu, my boys ; our hearts with sorrow 
 flow; 
 
 Our loves and rhyming had their source at Benny Ha 
 vens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 And when in academic halls, to summer hops we go, 
 And tread the mazes of the dance on the light fantastic 
 toe, 
 
 We look into those sunny eyes, where youth and pleas 
 ure glow, 
 
 And think ourselves within the walls of Benny Havens, 
 oh! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 To the ladies of the orange clime, let all our bumpers 
 
 flow ; 
 Who dares gainsay their peerless charms must take- a 
 
 knightly blow. 
 We'll throw the gauntlet in their cause and taunt the 
 
 soulless foe 
 Who hesitates to drink to them at Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
Of the lovely maids, with virgin lips, like roses dipped 
 in dew, 
 
 Who are to be our better halves, we'd like to take a view. 
 
 But sufficient to the bridal day is the ill of it, you know, 
 
 So we'll cheer our hearts with chorusing at Benny Ha 
 vens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 To the ladies of our Army our cups shall ever flow, 
 Companions of our exile, and our shield 'gainst every woe ; 
 May they see their husbands Generals, with double pay 
 
 also, 
 And join us in our choruses at Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 Tis said by commentators, when to other worlds we go, 
 We follow the same handicraft we did in this below ; 
 If this be true philosophy the sexton he says " No !"- 
 What days of song and dance we'll have at Benny Ha 
 vens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 Come fill up to our Generals, God bless the brave heroes, 
 They're an honor to their country, and a terror to their 
 
 foes ; 
 May they long rest on their laurels, and trouble never 
 
 know, 
 But live to see a thousand years at Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 Here's a health to General Taylor, whose "rough and 
 
 ready" blow 
 
 Struck terror to the rancheros of braggart Mexico; 
 May his country ne'er forget his deeds, and ne'er forget 
 
 to show 
 She holds him worthy of a place at Benny Havens, oh! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 To the " veni, vidi, vici " man, to Scott, the great hero, 
 Fill up the goblet to the brim, let no one shrinking go ; 
 May life's cares on his honored head fall light as flakes 
 
 of snow, 
 And his fair fame be ever great at Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
From the courts of death and danger, from Tampa's 
 
 deadly shore, 
 
 There comes a wail of manly grief, " O'Brien is no more ;" 
 In the land of sun and flowers his head lies pillowed low, 
 No more he'll sing" Petite Coquette," or Benny Havens, 
 
 oh! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 To the Army's brave commanders let now our glasses 
 flow, 
 
 We'll drink to Grant and Sherman, and to the "subs" 
 also, 
 
 To Thomas, Meade,and Sheridan (these come in apropos); 
 We'll toast them all with goblets full, at Benny Havens, oh! 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh !. etc. 
 
 Tis a proverb that " Republics to their veterans thank 
 less grow," 
 
 And to youth of service oft awards only an age of woe ; 
 But if a lowly station most honor doth bestow, 
 Give me the one now occupied by Benny Havens, oh ! 
 Oh! Benny Havens, oh! etc. 
 
 To our regiments, now fellows, we all must shortly go, 
 And look as sage as parsons when they talk of what's 
 
 below ; 
 
 We must cultivate the graces, do every thing "just so," 
 And never speak to ears polite of Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 Let us remember, comrades, when to our posts we go, 
 The ties that must be cut in twain, as o'er life's sea we 
 
 row ; 
 Hearts that now throb in unison must moulder down 
 
 below, 
 So let us take a parting cup at Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 To our comrades who have fallen, one cup before we go, 
 They poured their life-blood freely out pro bono publico ; 
 No marble points the stranger to where they rest below, 
 They lie neglected far away from Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
You veterans on the "half-pay list" in quiet ease should 
 
 g- 
 And suffer us subalterns up a grade or two to row, 
 
 Award each State a regiment of Regulars, you know, 
 Their officers are. chosen ones from Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 May we never lack a smile for friend, nor stern heart for 
 
 a foe ; 
 
 May all our paths be pleasantness wherever we may go ; 
 May our " Muster-rolls " in after years report mstatu quo, 
 And goodly samples ever bring from Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 May the Army be augmented, promotion be less slow ; 
 May our country in the hour of need be ready for the foe ; 
 May we find a soldier's resting-place beneath a soldier's 
 
 blow, 
 With space enough beside our graves for Benny Havens, 
 
 oh! 
 
 Oh! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 When you and I, and Benny, and all the others, too, 
 Are called before the " final board " our course of life to 
 view, 
 
 May we never "fess" on any point, but straight be told 
 to go 
 
 And join the Army of the Blest at Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 Another star has faded, we miss its brilliant glow, 
 
 For the veteran Scott has ceased to be a soldier here 
 below ; 
 
 And the country which he honored now feels a heart 
 felt woe, 
 
 As we toast his name in reverence at Benny Havens, oh ! 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 To our kind old Alma Mater, our rock-bound Highland 
 
 home, 
 We'll cast back many a fond regret, as o'er life's sea we 
 
 roam, 
 Until on our last battle-field the lights of heaven shall 
 
 glow, 
 
 We'll never fail to drink to her and Benny Havens, oh ! 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
And if amid the battle shock our banner e'er should trail, 
 And hearts that beat beneath its folds shall faint or 
 
 basely fail, 
 
 Then may some son of Benny's with quick avenging blow, 
 Lift up the flag we loved so well at Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 When this life's troubled sea is o'er, and our last battle's 
 through, 
 
 If God permits us mortals then His blest domain to 
 view, 
 
 Then shall we see with glory crowned, in proud celestial 
 row, 
 
 The friends we've known and loved so well at Benny 
 Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 Here's a cup to brave McKinney, and all who like him 
 
 die ; 
 
 Their souls upon the battle smoke ascend the upper sky. 
 May the angels there attend him and show him where 
 
 to go, 
 
 And join his comrades gone before, with Benny 
 Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 In silence lift your glasses : A meteor flashes out. 
 
 So swift to death brave Custer, amid the battle's shout 
 
 Death called and, crowned, he went to join the friends 
 
 of long ago 
 To the land of Peace, where now he dwells with Benny 
 
 Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 We drop a tear for Harrington, and his comrades, Ouster's braves, 
 Who fell with none to see the deeds that glorified their graves. 
 May their memories live forever, with their glory's present glow ; 
 They've nobly earned the right to dwell with Benny Havens, oh ! 
 
 Oh ! Benny Havens, oh ! etc. 
 
 53 
 
SEQUEL. 
 
 COME, fellows, let us join once more, ere to our homes 
 
 we go, 
 
 And give a parting requiem to " Benny Havens, oh !" 
 Our fathers worship'd at his shrine, in days long, long ago, 
 Then why should we, their faithful sons, not love our 
 
 " Havens, oh !" 
 
 The spirit of the olden grey, with boys, 'tis folly, true ; 
 But then it proves " Esprit de Corps" when clothed in 
 
 Army blue. 
 
 Then in the path our fathers trod let us not fail to go : 
 If it lead to fame and glory, or " Benny Havens, oh !" 
 
 Their names shall sacred to us be for deeds done long ago ; 
 For they are graved with gold and red on azure blue, 
 
 you know : 
 
 And as on us their mantles fell, our gratitude we'll show, 
 By life remembrances of them and " Benny Havens, oh!" 
 
 Genial Barbour, brave Mudge and Inge, oft went 
 
 through drifted snow, 
 To have an hour's pleasant chat, and make the spirits 
 
 flow : 
 
 Clay, Crittenden, and legions more, could never give a NO, 
 When asked to share the friendly cheer of " Benny 
 
 Havens, oh !" 
 54 
 
 Did Ringgold's flying battery e'er make its aim too low 
 Did Duncan's ready howitzers e'er fail to reach the foe 
 Did Canby brave, or Custer bold, e'er dread Modoc or 
 
 Sioux 
 Because oidark or moonlight raids on " Benny Havens, oh ?" 
 
 From Nevada's hoary ridges, from stormy coast of Maine, 
 From Lava beds and Yellowstone the story never waned : 
 Wherever duty called they went, their steps were never 
 
 slow 
 With "ALMA MATER" on their lips, and " Benny Havens, 
 
 oh!" 
 
 Their blood has water'd Western plains, and Northern 
 
 wilds of snow, 
 Has stained Sierra's highest peaks, where piercing winds 
 
 e'er blow ; 
 Has dyed deep red the Everglades, and deeper still, you 
 
 know, 
 The sacred Montezuma shades and walls of Mexico 
 
 But now the soften'd summer winds come whisp'ring to 
 
 us low 
 That HE of whom we oft have sung, Death's hand lies 
 
 on his brow ! 
 
 These granite hills surrounding us, by sun all set aglow, 
 To THEM, are guardian angels, and to"BENNY HAVENS.OH !" 
 
FIRST NIGHT ON POST. 
 
 WICKLIFFE. '72. 
 
 ALONG his post the sentry walks, 
 
 With slow and measured tread, 
 While visions of " Yanking" ceaslessly flit 
 
 Through his tired and aching head, 
 
 Till he drives them off with thoughts of home, 
 
 Of the loved ones far away, 
 With fruitless thoughts of the time of night, 
 
 And the useless wish for day. 
 
 He thinks of his happy western home, 
 The scenes of his childhood's views, 
 
 Of his mother's smile, of his playmates' shouts 
 " Who comes there ?" a pair of shoes. 
 
 / 
 
 He thinks of the blue eyed girl he left, 
 
 Whom he'll on furlough find, 
 With the same true heart, the same old love : 
 
 When somebody grabs him behind. 
 
 55 
 
He wrenches loose, still walks his post, 
 Still thinks of his blue eyed witch, 
 
 When somebody tumbles him into a barrow, 
 And trundles him off to the ditch. 
 
 He scrambles out, and resumes his beat, 
 
 And thinks as he walks his post, 
 Of the many friends of Auld Lang Syne 
 
 " The devil ! Is that a ghost ?" 
 
 He thinks of the loved ones who have left 
 
 This troublesome world below, 
 And thinks that they visit their friends behind, 
 
 In this vale of sorrow and woe. 
 
 Then a distant stir on the midnight air 
 
 Confirms this fond belief, 
 Till he listens awhile, and then exclaims, 
 
 "Thank God! Tis the Third Relief." 
 
SAME AT SAME. 
 
 A SIMPLE " cit." in modest garb 
 
 I shall not call his name- 
 To West Point went some years ago 
 
 To enter same at same. 
 
 He packed his trunk and bid good-bye 
 
 To mother, gentle dame ; 
 His Betsy's eyes were red that day, 
 
 And his were same at same. 
 
 His journey's end at last was reached, 
 
 To the office soon he came ; 
 The corp'rals met him at the door 
 
 Before he'd entered same. 
 
 His " prelim." passed, they drilled him then 
 
 Until his back was lame ; 
 He spent his summer in the camp 
 " Policing" same at same. 
 
 With " Math." and French he spent two years, 
 
 Then " Dade" he tried to tame, 
 Who threw him in the bark one day 
 
 As he rode same at same. 
 
 His furlough, long desired, arrived ; 
 
 With buttons all aflame, 
 He swelled about a few short weeks, 
 
 And spoiled the same at same. 
 
 A second class-man, " Phil.," arrived, 
 And " Chem." came in the game ; 
 
 From Feb. to May he tactics had, 
 And played with same at same. 
 
 Through "first-class camp" and "first-class year" 
 
 He onward pressed to fame ; 
 A brand new suit in June he donned, 
 
 And " hung up " same at same. 
 
 57 
 
" HIS ' PRELIM.' PASSED, TIIKY DRILLED HIM THEN UNTIL HIS HACK WAS LAME.'' 
 
MON CADET. 
 
 BY A LADY VISITOR. 
 
 O MOX Cadet, mon joli Cadet, 
 
 With his pretty gold buttons and rollicking way, 
 
 With his smile for the ladies, his stars for the beaux, 
 
 The pet of the ladies wherever he goes ; 
 
 Swaggering, swinging, hurrying past, 
 
 No thought of the future, no thought of the past ; 
 
 Carelessly happy, mon beau debonnaire ; 
 
 Que je t'aime, mon beau militaire ! 
 
 O mon Cadet, mon joli Cadet, 
 Straight as an arrow, lithe as a fay, 
 Fickle as fortune, inconstant as chance, 
 Light as a fairy when leading the dance ; 
 Sliding, gliding, whirling we go, 
 Murm'ring sweet nothings so softly and low, 
 Carelessly graceful, mon beau debonnaire ; 
 O que je t'aime, mon beau militaire ! 
 
 O mon Cadet, mon joli Cadet, 
 
 Now silent and thoughtful, now joyous and gay ; 
 
 Never dull, never harsh, never stupidly good, 
 
 With his laughing eyes saying, " I would if I could ;" 
 
 Whispering, caressing, kissing me, too, 
 
 In spite of my anger, for what can I do ? 
 
 He so strong and so earnest; and then I don't care; 
 
 O que je t'aime, mon beau militaire ! 
 
 O mon Cadet, mon joli Cadet, 
 
 How I will weep when he goes away, 
 
 Out on the plains 'midst danger and strife, 
 
 While all I can do is to pray for his life ; 
 
 Watching, weeping, waiting the day 
 
 That shall bring him again, no more mon Cadet, 
 
 But my soldier, my lover, my joy, and my care ; 
 
 Je t'adore, mon beau militaire ! 
 
 59 
 
AIR Dot Lee tie German Hand. 
 GOODE '79. 
 
 Now give me your extensions und listen vat I say, 
 
 I am dot deutcher kadett on dot old U. S. M. A., 
 
 My name vas Jacob Schweinfleisch, und fon Hoboken 
 
 I came ; 
 Mine fader vas a deutcher man, my moder vas de same. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 ! I ain't cut out for a soldier on de army, 
 Und I dink I vill go heim ; 
 
 1 like much petter trinking peer 
 
 As boning in dem barracks all der time, 
 Und I schpend my time a valkin' on dot area 
 Schkaturday afternoon, 
 Vile all der rescht, dressed in dere bescht, 
 Goes out on der blain to schpoon. 
 
 Ven I first landed on dot Point I dought I vill go mad, 
 Dose fellows in dot office dere dey stand me off my head ; 
 Dey told me vat my name it vas, und got my hands 
 
 around, 
 Und say off I don't prace me up dey'll vipe me off de 
 
 ground. 
 
 Cho. O ! I ain't cut out for a soldier, etc. 
 
 60 
 
Now ven I got me on dot camp I vas almost go died. 
 Dose fellows turn me alvays out 'bout four dimes efery 
 night ; 
 
 Dey make me tighten tent cords' up ven it vas pouring 
 rain, 
 
 Urid on de morning I go out to schwad trill on dot blain. 
 Clio. O ! I ain't cut out for a soldier, etc. 
 
 Dey put me in dot awkward schkoad, I vas so offul gross, 
 Dot fellow he schkin me efery day I don't oxpress my 
 toes ; 
 
 He give me second exercise so long vat I can go, 
 
 Und den he give de schkoad " place rest," und cussed me 
 
 out for slow. Cha 
 in about dree weeks I vent on guard, und I vas offul broud, 
 I dry to got me schpooney up das I don't got cussed 
 
 oudt, 
 I glean my gun und fix my belts, und den I plack my 
 
 schkoes, 
 
 But ven dot drum peat I vas late, dot vaste pelt come 
 unloose. Clio 
 
 Now ven I got me on my post I felt so offul grand, 
 Der first man I schkalluted vas de leader off dot pand ; 
 Dot corporal he vas schtanding py, und saw vat I did do, 
 Und ven he came to cuss me out, I gave him " present 
 arms." too. 
 6 1 
 
 I dought I vill pe offul prave dot night, a valkin' post, 
 Some fellows came mit proomsticks out, all dressed in 
 
 vite, like goshs ; 
 I told dem, " Who goes here ? " und called dot corporal 
 
 mit a screetch, 
 But putty soon my gun vas gone, und I vas on dot 
 
 deetch. Clio 
 
 Ven dot furlough class came ve bushted camp, und moved 
 
 in off dose barracks, 
 Dey put me up four flights of stairs on dot chicken-cock 
 
 loft garrets ; 
 
 Most all my dings vas lost, und I vas feeling offle blue ; 
 I dumpled me town dwo flights of steps, to fall in mit 
 
 tattoo. 
 
 SECOXD CHORUS. 
 
 O ! I schpend my time a valkin' on dot area 
 
 Schkaturday afternoon, 
 
 Vile all der rescht, dressed in dere bescht, 
 
 Mit de schpooney femmes goes out on de blain to 
 
 schpoon. 
 
 I schpend my time a valkin' on dot area, 
 Maybe you'll dink dot's fun 
 To valk quite late, most till parade, 
 Right schkolder mit your gun. 
 
NIGGER JIM. 
 
 HOWLAND '76. 
 
 AIR Little Sam. 
 'M de noted cullud Cadet, 
 
 And from Dixie's land I came, 
 Whar I used to hoe de cotton all de day all de day ; 
 
 But I pined for martial glory, 
 
 So a 'pointment I did get, 
 And I went and joined dis old U. S. M. A. U. S. M. A. 
 
 To de offis I did go, 
 
 Did dey hoop me up oh, no ! 
 And since dat day I'b neber had no rest , 
 
 For I'm kicked and cussed and swore at, 
 . I'm " pinked," and no help for it, 
 And I marches in de rear rank by request by request. 
 
 CHORUS : 
 
 I hates 'em all, and I sits alone, 
 And sings dis little hymn : 
 
 I'm de noted cullud cadet ; 
 
 I'll be found in " Phil " or " Chym'" 
 
 I'm "cut" byeb'rybody, 
 
 And dey calls me Nigger Jim. 
 
Guard duty comes to me quite oft 
 
 I march on twice a week, 
 And most all de time I am hall orderly hall orderly. 
 
 And de white boys spit tobacco juice 
 
 Upon de floor and stairs ; 
 So " demerits" come a piking unto me all unto me. 
 
 Should I stub my toe in ranks 
 
 I would certainly get " pinked," 
 For to pot dis nigger makes a brilliant " hive." 
 
 De instructors all light on me, 
 
 And I nebe'r yet saw a " three," 
 
 For dey say de nigger's " max" is but "one five" is but 
 one five. Clio. 
 
 Old Davy's dun it to you now, 
 
 Dis nigger he has found ; 
 
 And you won't see any more of dis ere chile of dis ere 
 chile. 
 
 But I'll write a book on West Point, 
 
 And for Congress I will run ; 
 And I'll engineer a bill to hang old Lyle to hang old Lyle. 
 
 I leabs anoder here 
 
 For to take my place in ranks, 
 At de old familiar tint you'll think of me ; 
 
 You'b but lost me for a while yet, 
 
 For a "cit a'pointment" I'll get, 
 And I'll rank you in de nigger infantry infantry. Clio. 
 
 Upon de old plantation 
 
 How I wish dat I had stayed, 
 And not come here to wear de Cadet grey de Cadet grey. 
 
 For aldo in shining buttons 
 
 I am gorgeously arrayed, 
 I must work from reveille till close of day till close of day. 
 
 When I've "boned" dat book enough, 
 
 Den I must bone dat gun, 
 And much cleaner dan de white boys' must it be ; 
 
 Or I'd quick be "pinked" by Em'ry, 
 
 And for red rust he'd condemn me 
 On next Saturday to walk de A-ri-e de A-ri-e. Clio. 
 
 Oh ! now I'b got de bulge on you, 
 I ranks you all dis day ; 
 
 On my shoulder shines a Gen'ral's glitt'ring star glitt'ring 
 star ; 
 
 I now marches in de front ranks, 
 
 While you close up in de rear, 
 Wid your open fields, and wearing nary bar nary bar. 
 
 What is more I hah a wife, 
 
 And am settled down for life, 
 While you're struggling for promotion with a vim ; 
 
 You'll be frozen in Alaska, 
 
 Or be sunstruck in Nebraska ; 
 
 And you'll envy your old comrade, Nigger Jim Nigger 
 Jim. Cho. 
 
KEPT BACK ON FURLOUGH. 
 
 ROWLAND '76. 
 
 AIR Jeannette and jfeanot. 
 
 A FURLOUGH-MAN one morning sat weeping in his room, 
 He had no " cit." clothes on him, his face was spread with 
 
 gloom ; 
 But a comrade stood beside him with a white plug hat 
 
 and cane, 
 And looked with careless glances at the tears that fell 
 
 like rain. 
 The "file" in grey looked on him, and he _ took his old 
 
 chum's hand, 
 And he said, " 'Tis many days ere I shall see my native 
 
 strand ; 
 
 And I sit and wipe my eye while my heart is sick and sore, 
 For I'm kept back on furlough, kept back ten days or 
 
 more. 
 
 Tell my schoolmates and companions, when they meet and 
 
 crowd around, 
 To hear why I'm not present, for perchance they'll think 
 
 me " found ;" 
 Tell them I hit the nigger, or did " devil " some poor 
 
 "beast"- 
 That will make me quite a hero they'll think it smart at 
 
 least. 
 
 64 
 
 Say that prison doors confine me, that with shackles I 
 
 am bound. 
 They will take it all for gospel, and when me they see 
 
 around, 
 They will ask about my escapades, and will not press 
 
 me sore 
 Why I stayed back on furlough, stayed back ten days or 
 
 more. 
 
 Tell my parents and relations, when you meet them on 
 
 the street, 
 
 That I've got hurt at riding, or have Glisters on my feet. 
 Don't let them know the reason that keeps me from my 
 
 home ; 
 
 But say the doctor made me stay, I was too sick to come. 
 And when they see your chevrons, say that I have got 
 
 some, too ; 
 Thev'll never know the difference you can stand of lies 
 
 ./ r 
 
 a few. 
 Stuff them up with tales of bloodshed, of wading deep in 
 
 gore; 
 Don't say I'm kept from furlough, kept back ten days 
 
 or more. 
 
Tell my sister not to think me tight, she's seen me so 
 
 with pain, 
 And she'll think I'm coming home dead-drunk at my old 
 
 tricks again. 
 
 She'll imagine me a lying with a bottle in my fist, 
 In the cell of some vile prison with a handcuff on my 
 
 wrist. 
 
 Many times I was arrested when at home I was about, 
 And got taken to the calaboose, and she'd come and bail 
 
 me out. 
 Say I stopped to help the crusade on some benighted 
 
 shore, 
 Not that I'm kept back from furlough, kept back ten 
 
 days or more. 
 
 And, then, there is another, not a sister, but a " spoon "- 
 You'll know her by the style she slings, for you will meet 
 her soon. 
 
 She'll be waiting 'round the depot for to greet her soldier 
 
 boy, 
 Her poodle dog within her arms, her eyes lit up with joy. 
 
 You can " spoon " on her until I come, and if she curious 
 
 be, 
 Take her to some ice cream saloon, and charge the same 
 
 to me. 
 
 Don't answer all her questions ; I would sooner die before 
 She knew I'm kept from furlough, kept back ten days 
 
 or more. 
 
 Last night I dreamed of furlough, I thought that I had 
 
 gone 
 
 With all the other furlough-men, but I must go alone. 
 There's none kept back so long as I, the last I am to leave, 
 That dismal camp, those drills, that guard, 'tis tough you 
 
 may believe. 
 
 And while you're taking whiskey, and all the other joys 
 That welcome furlough always brings to us grey-coated 
 
 boys, 
 
 I'm sleeping in a rain-soaked tent, upon a hard pine floor ; 
 For I'm kept back from furlough, kept back ten days or 
 
 more." 
 
His voice grew husky, indistinct, he fell back in his gloom, 
 His comrade borrowed what change he had, and quickly 
 
 left the room ; 
 
 And away unto the steamer went the jolly furlough class, 
 At least all who'd "demerits boned," and French and 
 
 Math, did pass. 
 And the morning sun shone brightly down on that 
 
 " unpoliced " room, 
 Where that poor file sat weeping, all alone and wrapped 
 
 in gloom, 
 The expressman came round barracks, and took no trunk 
 
 from his door; 
 For he was kept from furlough, kept back ten days or 
 
 more. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Why are we kept back on furlough ! ! hey ? 
 'Cause we wouldn't bone demerit ! ! ha. 
 That's why we're kept back from furlough ! !- 
 
 RETURN OF THE FURLOUGH-MAN. 
 
 " ARE we almost there ? Are we almost there ?" 
 
 Said a " furlough-man," as he came back from home ; 
 
 " Are those the tents I see up there ? 
 
 And is that the cursed old 'Library dome'?" 
 
 And he thought of the terrible " reveille"," 
 And of going to bed at " half-past nine," 
 
 And he thought how different it used to be 
 When he used to get tight about that time. 
 
 Then he thought of the brandy he used to drink, 
 And the cool sherry cobblers in glasses so tall ; 
 
 Then he thought how his heart in anguish would sink, 
 And his nectar be turned into bitterest gall. 
 
 Then he thought of the " fare" of the old " Mess Hall," 
 And that dirty black coffee doled out by the gill, 
 
 And then that horrible thought of all 
 
 That he'd have to " bone " that terrible " Phil." 
 
 And he thought how " Sammy " would grin with glee, 
 Like a tiger that seizes his prey from his lair ; 
 
 But little he thought his first act would be 
 To " pink " him instanter for " wearing long hair." 
 
 66 
 
THE PLEBE'S LAMENT. 
 HOYLE. '73. 
 
 O LORD ! will I never get done 
 Rubbing on this rusty gun ? 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And I wish I was at home, 
 And I wish I was at home. 
 
 It is no use to sigh and fret, 
 
 Since I must clean this bayonet. Cho. 
 
 But how intensely do I hate 
 
 To polish up this old waist-plate. Cho. 
 
 67 
 
 It fills my heart with dire alarms, 
 
 The order of " Inspection Arms !" Cko. 
 
 Long, long ago I got my fill 
 
 Of this most " cussed " old squad drill. Cko. 
 
 Your breast throw out, your heels on a line, 
 Or I'll give you some more double time. Cho. 
 
 Keep your face straight and do not grin, 
 Or you will get another " skin." Cho. 
 
It strains my arms, and makes me grunt, 
 
 To keep the palms of my hands to the front. Cho. 
 
 Every evening, rain or shine, 
 
 I've got these " darned " old tents to line. Cho. 
 
 And twice a day, I never fail 
 
 To get stuck on " police detail." Cho. 
 
 My head does ache, my back is bent, 
 Policing this " first classman's" tent. Cho. 
 
 68 
 
 When this camp's o'er, I'll jump a rod, 
 
 For I'll hear no more of that " tion squad." Cho. 
 
 Long have I prayed, as well as wept, 
 
 For the coming of those blessed " Seps." Cho. 
 
 The old Cadets will then have ceased 
 To call this " Plebe " a " rabid beast." 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 And I wish I was at home, 
 And I wish I was at home. 
 
THE PLEBE'S PRAYER. 
 
 HOWE. '78. 
 
 [A Plebe who reported in the spring of '76 put in a permit one 
 
 day, of which the following is the substance, 
 
 if not the text.] 
 
 OH ! please, sir, Mr. Teacher, 
 
 May I go out and stray, 
 Amid the towering mountains, 
 
 And from barracks get away? 
 
 For days in close " confinement " 
 You've kept me from the air, 
 
 My muscles now are growing weak, 
 My health this doth impair. 
 
 Once more I'd like to go and play 
 Upon the bright green plain, 
 
 And see the various trophies, 
 And the tombs of heroes slain. 
 
 Oh ! please to let me go, sir, 
 
 And hereafter I will try, 
 To keep straight forward to the front, 
 
 My ever wandering eye. 
 
 (Permit not approved?) 
 69 
 
 A VALENTINE. 
 
 (Found in a Cadet's Scrap-Book.) 
 
 A is the Academy where Charlie staid ; 
 
 B is the Belle who made a raid ; 
 
 C is the Curl he asked for in vain ; 
 
 D is the Dame he wished to obtain ; 
 
 E is the Enemy he wished so to fight ; 
 
 F is the Flirt who laughed at the sight ; 
 
 G is the Glove of Perinot kid ; 
 
 H is the Hand it unkindly hid ; 
 
 I is the Instep so natty and high ; 
 
 J is the Jest that brought light to the eye ; 
 
 K is the Kool way in which he could talk ; 
 
 L is the Lingering down " Flirtation Walk ;" 
 
 M is the Merry way she could smile ; 
 
 N is the Nonsense she talked meanwhile ; 
 
 O is the Offer he made one day; 
 
 P is the Pretence which turned it away ; 
 
 Q is the Quadrille all cadets hate ; 
 
 R is the Redowa they dance till late ; 
 
 S is the " Spooney," their favorite word ; 
 
 T is the " Tattoo " that always is heard ; 
 
 U is the Upton whom they all love ; 
 
 V is the Valentine I send to my dove ; 
 
 W is the Willow that hung over our \yalk ; 
 
 X is the Xebec in which they sail to New York ; 
 
 Y is the Yew that made them all squack ! 
 
MY OLD REVEILLES. 
 
 J. R. RIBLETT 72. 
 
 You may talk of your gaiters as much as you please, 
 Their beauty, their elegance, comfort and ease ; 
 But of all the shoes that e'er shoemaker made, 
 Not a word that is better, of them can be said, 
 Than cadets will say, and they'll not say it to please, 
 But from pure honest love for their " old reveilles." 
 
 In long years ago they have seen their best day, 
 And tho' full of holes, I'll not throw them away, 
 But fondly will cherish, though the " uppers " wear out, 
 And the " soles " are all ready to " sail up the spout," 
 For no shoes in the world can possess so much ease 
 For my poor tired feet as my " old reveilles." 
 
 Some people may scoff, and at sight of them jeer, 
 But I cling to them still for old memories dear ; 
 They covered my feet when a Plebe in distress, 
 And into my " yearling year " helped me to press ; 
 They've lasted me well, and if Fate decrees 
 I'll wear them forever, " my old reveille's." 
 
 And at last when " old Patrick " shall come in and say, 
 " I'll take all the rimnants that ye'ez thrown away," 
 And bears the old rubbish to the pile down below, 
 Along with the rest in the dust and the snow, 
 You'll see them there lying, those wonders of ease, 
 Sad, lonely, neglected, my " old reveille's." 
 
 Others and newer will take their old place, 
 
 And with plenteous blacking shine smiles in my face ; 
 
 My feet may look smaller, feel better (perhaps), 
 
 But in the sweet slumbers that come " after Taps," 
 
 Foremost and fairest of all visions that please, 
 
 Will be happy fore-shadowings of my " old reveilles." 
 
 Let them go, while a tear-drop in memory flows 
 Gently down from my eyelid, and rests on my nose ; 
 But little they'll reck of my sorrow, or pain, 
 Nor know of my longing to greet them again : 
 While over their resting place cold winds scatter leaves, 
 Let them peacefully sleep, my " old reveille's. 
 
 70 
 
HE DONE HIS LEVEL BEST. 
 
 STEVENSON '78. 
 
 WAS he a bookin' of his " Phil," 
 
 He done it with a zest ; 
 Was he a bonin' of his " Chem," 
 
 "He done his level best." 
 If he'd a reg'lar scratch to go, 
 
 He never took no rest ; 
 Or if it was his drawing day 
 
 " He done his level best." 
 If he was prancing on his post, 
 
 He'd think of his warm nest ; 
 And prayin' for the next relief, 
 
 " He done his level best." 
 He'd "yank a plebe" clean outen ranks, 
 
 And cuss like all possessed ; 
 Then put him back and show him how 
 
 To do his level best. 
 He'd cuss and sing, and howl and smoke, 
 
 And dance and drink and jest ; 
 And " max " and " fess " all one to him, 
 
 "He done his level best." 
 Was it " boning" in his quarters, 
 
 Was it being coldly " fessed," 
 In barracks or in section room, 
 
 " He done his level best." 
 
 ODE TO MADEMOISELLE ANNA LYTICAL. 
 
 T. B. NICHOLS. '72. 
 
 THE most enticing, yet offending, 
 The most bewitching and heart-rending, 
 The maid I court, and yet despise, 
 The one for whom I early rise, 
 
 Her name is Anna Lytica., 
 
 Her style is neat and critical ; 
 
 But though I've known her since September, 
 
 We've nothing pleasant to remember. 
 
 I'm wearing all my life away, 
 I'm dreaming of her night and day, 
 And yet I'd give my head to be 
 The man to cast her in the sea. 
 
 This little maid I often search, 
 
 Was born in a parabolic church ; 
 
 I often think it's a mistake, 
 
 And swear she's from the brimstone lake. 
 
 Oh ! now be generous, little " femme, 1 ' 
 And let me have a single theme ; 
 And, when examination's past, 
 That dream of you shall be my last. 
 
EPIGRAM, 
 ON JOSEPH LOCKE, INSTRUCTOR OF TACTICS. 
 
 BY CADET EDGAR ALLAN FOE. 
 
 JOHN LOCKE was a very great name; 
 
 Joe Locke was a greater, in short ; 
 The former was well known to Fame, 
 
 The latter well known to Report. 
 
 WEST POINT, 1830, 
 
 28 SOUTH BARRACKS. 
 
Ix eighteen hundred and seventy-three, 
 The " Plebes " went on a deuced spree, 
 They raised the devil generally, 
 And fired the gun in the Area. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Twas seventy, seventy, seventy-three, 
 Oh ! seventy, seventy, seventy-three, 
 Twas seventy-three, yes, seventy-three 
 That fired the gun in the area. 
 
 They locked us up in the old guard-house, 
 And bade us be as still 's a mouse, 
 But we whooped and had a mad carouse, 
 And fired the gun in the area. 
 
 They made us at attention stand, 
 With rifles clasped within our hand ; 
 We swore we'd stand the stern command, 
 And fire the gun in the area. 
 
 Th' Officer, said he, " Now, don't you see 
 There is no use of " running " me 
 I'll make you stand till reveille", 
 For firing the gun in the area. 
 
 "And if you rascals don't be still, 
 Of punishment you'll get your fill ; 
 I'll take you out on the plain to drill, 
 For firing the gun in the area." 
 
 CASEY. '72. 
 
ONE HUNDRED DAYS TO JUNE. 
 
 ROWLAND. '76. 
 
 ONE hundred days to June, 
 
 'Tis not much longer now, 
 Ere we to this Academy 
 
 Shall make our farewell bow : 
 Our " Noizet " drawn, our studies o'er, 
 
 Free from all toils and pains, 
 We happy graduates will be, 
 
 And get scalped on the plains. 
 We've been to the officers most kind ; 
 
 Who ever before did see 
 A class give to those derned old beats 
 
 A nobby Christmas-tree? 
 And then to please their tympanums, 
 
 We worked like all creation 
 To give them in the Area 
 
 A New- Year's celebration. 
 Our course throughout has been a siege 
 
 Between us and the bands 
 Of officers, who go about 
 
 With " skin-books " in their hands ; 
 To puzzle the foe, the text-book says, 
 
 A false alarm should begin ; 
 
 74 
 
 So we threatened to shoot the Battery off, 
 
 And took the officers in. 
 This area we'll undermine 
 
 Where we've worn out our shoes, 
 And under the " angle " run a branch, 
 
 And light a big star-fuse ; 
 I think 'twould surely elevate 
 
 Those striped legged men, 
 And send them nearer heaven 
 
 Than they'll ever be again. 
 Good-by to ditches parapets ; 
 
 Tis drawing near to June. 
 No more we'll mine Sebastopol, 
 
 Nor build a " demi-lune." 
 The counterscarp may tumble in, 
 
 The galleries let 'em went ; 
 The cavalier can taken be, 
 
 And we won't care a cent. 
 CHORUS One hundred days to June ; 
 One hundred days to June 
 
 Oh ! don't it tickle old " '76 " 
 To sing this little tune? 
 
SHOULDER-STRAPS. 
 
 
 " PRAY tell me, mamma, what the shoulder-straps mean 
 That on the blue-coats of our officers gleam ; 
 You know they're so different, now why should it be, 
 That not even the uniform buttons agree? 
 
 " I've noticed, for instance, a blank, and a bar, 
 Two bars, leaves of silver, of gold, and a star, 
 Two stars, and an eagle now what may it mean, 
 On scarlet, or orange, light blue, or dark green ?" 
 
 " Now listen, my daughter, and pray take heed, 
 For the income and straps of a beau are agreed ; 
 You may dance with a leaf, and flirt with a bar, 
 But reserve your best smile for the eagle and star. 
 
 " And remember the fence with nothing within 
 Is the field of the stripling, whose spurs are to win ; 
 A poor Second Lieutenant, perchance still in debt, 
 For the clothes he wore out as a West Point Cadet. 
 
 "And if on the field a bar should appear, 
 Your prudence, my darling, should lead you to fear ; 
 For if left a lone widow, the pension's so small 
 Your gloves and first mourning would swallow it all. 
 
 "And e'en with your Captain, who flourishes two, 
 Don't prefer the gay line to the Staff's sober blue ; 
 For the difference per month, in the matter of pay, 
 Not to mention the forage, quite wiles one away. 
 
 " Next in order are leaves, but here you reverse 
 Each value metallic in prose and in verse ; 
 For though gold be a Major, the silvery hue 
 Marks the Lieutenant-Colonel, on scarlet or blue. 
 
 " Then, over the forest, beneath the bright stars, 
 Soars the eagle, the lord of the leaves and the bars ; 
 Besides, 'tis suggestive of eagles that fly 
 When the wife of the Colonel her bonnets would buy. 
 
 " Above all, my darling, still honor the star, 
 Though it shines 'neath a silver-head, better by far 
 To catch some old General than make him afraid, 
 And you won't be the first to command a brigade." 
 
 " I've heard you, dear mother, and thought it all o'er. 
 My heart's with the lover who went to the war ; 
 You know the poor boy has not even a bar, 
 But I'd rather be his than the bride of a star." 
 
 75 
 
TO "SEVENTY-SIX." 
 
 BAILEY '78. 
 
 COMRADES for a season, and fellows in suffering, too, 
 
 Tis but a class that separates old "Seventy-eight" from 
 you ; 
 
 And though the gulf can ne'er be passed by Time's pro 
 motion slow, 
 
 Friendship and remembrance, too, will follow where 
 you go. 
 
 The gentle breeze that wafts your bark across life's 
 
 waveless sea, 
 
 The " Eldorado " of the thought, to fame's eternity, 
 Will bring to those you leave behind the happiness of 
 
 knowing 
 Their country's fame is guarded well by hearts with 
 
 honor glowing. 
 
 As backward on our course of life we turn to take a view, 
 Mem'ry will point to "Seventy-six," and ask a smile for you, 
 For the Camp of " Seventy-five," for pleasures shared 
 
 together ; 
 Which formed a tie that will not break, that Death alone 
 
 can sever. 
 
 And when our hops you cease to grace, the favored of 
 
 the ladies 
 (Lovelier far than England's dames, or pretty girls of 
 
 Cadiz), 
 We'll whisper to their pining hearts that "Seventy-six" 
 
 and we 
 Love the fair, no life would spare, in the cause of chivalry. 
 
 And when we come to graduate, and leave our mountain 
 
 home, 
 
 To try the storms, the calms of life, and o'er its sea to roam, 
 We'll ne'er forget that " Seventy-six " has proudly gone 
 
 before, 
 To win a soldier's laurel-wreath on the Heliconian shore. 
 
 When death shall come to crown a life the noblest man 
 
 can live, 
 
 Your country '11 pay the just reward her duty 'tis to give, 
 Of tears beside a soldier's bier, of mourning o'er his grave, 
 Who lived and died in Honor's cause, the bravest of the 
 
 brave. 
 
AN OLD CADET'S ADVICE. 
 
 COME fellows, and list to instruction, 
 Which hereafter may answer you well ; 
 
 Perhaps it may stay your destruction 
 By the dangerous arts of a helle. 
 
 The ladies heaven bless their fair faces! 
 
 Come here in summer time sweet ; 
 Each one is loaded with graces, 
 
 And all have Cadets at their feet. 
 
 They smile on the gallant young " gray," 
 
 Accept all his offers to walk, 
 And he, not knowing what to say, 
 
 Allows her to sustain all the talk. 
 
 Then it's " Oh ! I so love the Army, 
 
 With its bugles, and drums beating loud, 
 
 And if one should ever ask for me, 
 As an officer's wife I'd be proud. 
 
 " I should like to partake of his honor, 
 
 For ever stay close by his knees, 
 And read him nice stories from ' Bonner,' 
 When he might lay sick with disease. 
 
 77 
 
 " I should so love a life on the prairie, 
 . If my husband should ever there go, 
 And would never complain to him, nary, 
 That such life was uncommonly slow. 
 
 " If we ever should become adjusted, 
 At a station where parties are rife, 
 I should never appear much disgusted, 
 Should he ask for a dance with his wife. 
 
 " I would never once flirt with another, 
 
 . Not once cause my husband to swear; 
 I would never once write to my mother, 
 That he was a brute and a bear. 
 
 " But, alas ! there's no officer sought me, 
 
 I fear that I never shall wed ; 
 For rather than have citizens 'round me, 
 I declare I would die an old maid." 
 
 The Cadet feels silent and moody, 
 His heart is thumping with pain ; 
 
 He thinks of the three years of study, 
 Before his commission he'll gain. 
 
He thinks with despair of his fate, 
 
 His youth appears saddened and drear ; 
 
 To ask such an angel to wait, 
 
 Fills his bosom with doubt and with fear. 
 
 She starts, and with tears in her eyes, 
 
 Which causes his fond heart to ache, 
 She asks for a " button," and sighs, 
 " I'd prize it so much for your sake." 
 
 With a sob like a twenty-four pounder, 
 He tears one from over his heart, 
 
 And gives it with bows much profounder, 
 Than a dancer could ever impart. 
 
 In fact the poor fellow is captured, 
 His sleep is oft broken and short, 
 
 He dreams himself wholly enraptured, 
 While the lady is only in sport. 
 
 With others he's very retired, 
 
 But his love remains constant and true, 
 And he goes to bed pretty well tired, 
 
 When his drills and hers are all through. 
 
 78 
 
 One evening the moon shining brightly, 
 He calls on her at the Hotel ; 
 
 And then with his heart beating lightly, 
 Commences his story to tell. 
 
 He tells her he knew but to love her, 
 And has dreamt of her often of late ; 
 
 Perhaps she will say he may have her, 
 As he has only three years to wait. 
 
 She hears him a moment, through pity, 
 And then hopes his heart he will mend ; 
 
 She's engaged to a man in the city, 
 But she'll always remember her friend. 
 
 He leaves her with feelings of sorrow, 
 
 At being so foully deceived, 
 But he goes to the drill on the morrow, 
 
 With his feelings greatly relieved. 
 
 He takes no more walks on " Flirtation," 
 His slumbers are broken no more, 
 
 He has found a divine consolation, 
 And is now a most staunch " Bachelor." 
 
WEST POINT. 
 
 L. C. STRONG. 
 
 'TWAS commencement eve, and the ball-room belle 
 In her dazzling beauty was mine that night, 
 
 As the music dreamily rose and fell, 
 
 And the waltzers whirled in a blaze of light. 
 
 I can see them now as the moonbeams glance 
 Across the street, on the billowy floor 
 
 That rises and falls with the merry dance 
 
 To a music that floats in my heart once more. 
 
 A long half hour in the twilight leaves 
 
 Of the shrubbery she with coquettish face, 
 
 And dainty arms in their flowing sleeves 
 A dream of satins, of love, and lace 
 
 In the splendor there of her queenly smile, 
 
 Through her two bright eyes, I could see the glow 
 
 Of cathedral windows, as up the aisle 
 We marched to a music's ebb and flow. 
 
 All in a dream of commencement eve, 
 
 I remember I awkwardly buttoned a glove 
 
 On the dainty arm in its flowing sleeve, 
 With a broken sentence of hope and love. 
 79 
 
 But the diamonds that shone in her wavy hair, 
 And the beauty that shone in her faultless face, 
 
 Are all I recall as I struggled there, 
 A poor gray fly in a web of lace. 
 
 Yet a laughing, coquettish face I see, 
 
 As the moonlight falls on the pavement gray ; 
 
 I can hear her laugh in the melody 
 
 Of the waltz and music across the way. 
 
 And I kept the glove so dainty and small, 
 That I stole as she sipped her lemonade, 
 
 Till I packed it away, I think with all 
 
 Of those traps that I lost in our Northern raid. 
 
 But I never can list to that waltz divine, 
 With its golden measures of joy and pain, 
 
 But it brings, like the flavor of some old wine, 
 To my heart the warmth of the past again. 
 
 A short flirtation that's all you know, 
 
 Some faded flowers, a silken tress, 
 The letters I burned up long ago 
 
 When I heard from her last in the Wilderness. 
 
I suppose could she see I am maimed and old, 
 
 She would soften the scorn that was turned to hate 
 
 When I chose the bars of gray and gold, 
 And followed the South to its bitter fate. 
 
 But here's to the lad of the Union blue, 
 
 And here's to the boy of the Southern gray, 
 
 And I would that the Northern Star but knew 
 How the Southern Cross is borne to-dav. 
 
 OUR FOUR-O'CLOCKS! 
 
 'Tis four o'clock ! the bugle blows ! 
 And whether now it rains or snows, 
 Or fierce winds whistle all about, 
 Be sure the girls will all be out. 
 What is this strange, mysterious power 
 That thus attends this mystic hour ? 
 Why does it call the lasses all, 
 No matter whether great or small, 
 To pace the sidewalk to and fro ? 
 Is it that each one wants a beau, 
 And, anxious for some dear Cadet, 
 
 Defies the wind and snow and wet ? 
 It must be so, for ere that note 
 Has on the echoes ceased to float, 
 They come in haste, a motley crew, 
 In red, in pink, in black, in blue, 
 And joining each a gallant "gray," 
 Soon while a pleasant hour away. 
 Each day they come, unfailing come, 
 And stay until the " signal drum," 
 Which all their proudest wishes knocks, 
 And drives away the " Four-o'clocks." 
 
 So 
 
DESCRIPTION OF A CADET HOP. 
 
 BY A SURVIVOR. 
 
 'ROUND the room, 'round the room 
 'Round the room, onward, 
 Like a teetotum 
 Revolved the one hundred. 
 
 For all were in order, 
 And no one had blundered, 
 Onward the bright brigade ! 
 " All around !" the prompter said ; 
 So 'round and 'round the room 
 Spun the one hundred. 
 
 'Round then the bright brigade, 
 No one the least dismayed. 
 None, for the ladies said 
 They never blundered. 
 Not theirs to make reply, 
 Not theirs to seem too shy, 
 Theirs but fast 'round to fly ; 
 So 'round and 'round the room 
 
 Whirled the one hundred. 
 Si 
 
 Rose all their arms so bare, 
 Flew all their skirts in air, 
 Sweeping those sitting there, 
 Whirling and spinning, while 
 Lookers-on wondered ; 
 Trod on and swept along, 
 Some looking quite forlorn, 
 Part of their drapery shorn, 
 Till they have reached their chairs, 
 Spun the one hundred. 
 
 Gas-lights to right of them ! 
 Gas-lights to left of them ! 
 Gas-lights above them ! 
 By glass pendants sundered. 
 Laughing and blushing so, 
 At seats all rushing so ; 
 Heated and out of breath, 
 And from the figure there, 
 Now all have reached a chair, 
 Save that some few are left 
 Of the one hundred. 
 
Oh, that enchanting spin ! 
 When will the next begin ? 
 How old folks wondered, 
 How can they labor so ? 
 Is that true pleasure, oh, 
 Lovely one hundred ? 
 
 J'AIME LES MILITAIRES. 
 
 THE joyous dance is ended, 
 And lovely ladies stray, 
 
 By cavaliers attended, 
 To where the fountains play. 
 
 With Cupid's gifts o'er laden 
 Is every warrior there, 
 
 The thought of every maiden 
 
 Is '-J'aime les Militaires." 
 
 It is the old, old story; 
 
 He whispers with a kiss, 
 And dazzles with war's glory 
 
 A maid as fair as this. 
 His eyes are soft and tender, 
 
 And he recks with earnest care 
 This young heart's frank surrender 
 Ah ! " J'aime les Militaires." 
 
 And if he should but win it, 
 Ah ! poor girl, count the cost, 
 
 The rapture of a moment 
 The heart forever lost : 
 
 He'll ride away unheeding 
 To other faces fair, 
 
 And straightway love lies bleeding 
 Yet "J'aime les Militaires." 
 
General Police roll call 
 
 "/l^ore lifelrfjoirhnuTionOTr 
 
 PLEBE CAMP. BY A PI.F.HE. 
 
arrest. 
 
 Hal 
 
 84 
 
 PLEBE CAMP. (Continued.} 
 
85 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE WEIGHT OF A PI.EBF.'S GUN INCREASES. 
 
ROMANCE ON THE HUDSON. 
 
 (From Harper's Weekly.) 
 
 NEVER was month like the month of June, 
 Her wreath of roses and lovers' moon. 
 
 Think ye " the world is out of joint ?" 
 
 Then watch ye the shadows of old West Point ; 
 
 See how they fall on the grassy sward ; 
 Watch them lie on the glittering sword 
 
 Of the eager youth who longs for strife 
 And the stern delights of a soldier's life. 
 
 Yonder the building old and gray, 
 Where he learned the warrior's art to slay. 
 
 Behind are the hours of labor done ; 
 To-day the sweetness of triumph won ; 
 
 But sweetest of all, the tender smile 
 That beams on a fairer face the while, 
 
 As the tale is told that, ever the same, 
 Fresh beauty wins from a dream of fame. 
 
 A nameless boy is her lover now, 
 
 With a beardless cheek, and a childish brow. 
 
 Wait till the fearful war drum rolls : 
 In the bitter hour that tries men's souls 
 
 He will win the honors that she shall wear, 
 Till her woman's heart grows proud to bear 
 
 A name that a nation loves to boast, 
 
 And writes with those that she honors most. 
 
 There's a rapture thrills through the lips that kiss 
 And lisp of fame in a scene like this. 
 
 86 
 
REALITY ON THE PLAINS. 
 
 FAR away on the wild frontier 
 Stands the cot of the pioneer. 
 
 Loud he calls to the soldier bands, 
 " Drive ye the savage from our lands !" 
 
 The word is given, the charge is led, 
 And the red soil groans with martyr dead. 
 
 Hark ye ! what is the sound that swells? 
 Crack of rifle and savage yells ! 
 
 Poisoned arrow and hissing shot 
 Pour from the ambush thick and hot. 
 
 Red blood flowing from manly veins 
 Dyes with crimson the burning plains. 
 
 Look ! how silent a brave form lies ! 
 
 The sun glares down from the tearless skies. 
 
 No soft hand touches the matted hair, 
 No lips of woman are resting there. 
 
 Only a veteran, stern and grim, 
 Pauses awhile with eyes grown dim. 
 
 There's a pictured face on the blood-stained grass, 
 O'er the smiling eyes no shadows pass. 
 
 There are other eyes that are dim with tears, 
 That will smile no more in the coming years, 
 
 That turn in pain from the cheerless moon, 
 As the weeks bring round the month of June, 
 
 And lips that whisper a simple name 
 That has never run on the blast of fame. 
 
THE OLD SOUTH GATE. 
 
 ON THE RETURN OF THE FURLOUGH CLASS OF '50. 
 MRS. GENERAL WINFIELD SCOTT. 
 
 THERE'S a stir in " Camp Gaines," all observers may see 
 Tis a moment of interest, a moment of glee ; 
 Each Cadet has turned out, every tent is unmanned, 
 They pace to and fro, or in anxious groups stand. 
 Some object thrice welcome they seem to await, 
 Whilst all eyes turn eagerly toward the " South Gate." 
 
 The forbidden " South Gate," where Cadets are denied 
 
 Their exit and entrance, where, on one side, 
 
 In flaming black characters, always are seen 
 
 The words, "Shut the gate !" but none saying " Come in." 
 
 On the other, in ghastly, white letters, appear 
 
 The four horrid syllables, " No smoking here !" 
 
 Oh, answer, ye classes ! what may ye await, 
 
 What pleasure approaches you thro' the " South Gate ?" 
 
 The " Furloughs " are coming, and now must be near. 
 There is dust, there is shouting, the '" Furloughs' are 
 
 here ;" 
 They are here ! how they cheer as their comrades they 
 
 hail! 
 
 88 
 
 At their sight what delight and affection prevail ! 
 How rush they! how yell they ! with arms intertwined, 
 To be pressed to each breast, each breast true and kind. 
 Such pleasure at meeting good fellows await, 
 Then haste ye to gaze thro' the distant " South Gate." 
 
 Ye privileged men, ah ! ye are " Furloughs " no more, 
 Whom that portal admits, but opes not to the " Corps," 
 And who deem this the happiest day of their lives ; 
 " Alexander," " Wright," " Bonaparte," Musical " Ives," 
 " Pose," " Casey," " Smith," " Sheridan," " Morgan," "Van 
 
 Vost," 
 
 Each now " Second Classmen," all hail to your post ! 
 May your duties be followed with ardor as great 
 As you felt when so gayly you passed the " South Gate." 
 
 We welcome you back to the Camp and the Plain, 
 Where your favorite " Glitz " will soon drill you again. 
 Oh ! blessed among students, you now may remain, 
 Without fear of being wasted by " sparkling champagne," 
 Cigars or late hours, or unwholesome rich food, 
 While with knowledge your minds shall be daily im 
 bued. 
 
 May you ever be happy, at each turn of fate, 
 As when you, blithe" Furloughmen," passed the " South 
 Gate." 
 
A CADET "HASH." 
 
 ONE Saturday eve, a short time ago, 
 Three gallant Cadets both cautious and slow, 
 With eyes on the watch, went creeping around 
 A certain one's yard where chickens abound. 
 
 They thoroughly searched through brier and brake, 
 But never a fowl, cock, gobbler, or drake, 
 Hobgoblin, or goose, except in the yard, 
 Was seen by the three : which really was hard ; 
 
 And 'specially so as hundreds or more 
 Just inside the yard, and under the door 
 Were cackling aloud, or stalking about, 
 Or lying in groups or heaps on the ground. 
 
 But " Gray-coats," you know, a bountiful stock 
 
 Of patience possess so down on a rock 
 
 They quietly sat to wait for awhile, 
 
 Till Fortune should grant them her favoring smile. 
 
 Nor waited in vain, for just as the sun 
 Went down to his rest all fiery and dun, 
 A gallant old cock, in majesty great, 
 \Vith widely spread wings flew over the gate. 
 
 He cackled and clucked, and crowed with a voice 
 That made the Cadets look up and rejoice, 
 As loudly it rang on the mountain and plain, 
 And summoned his wives to join him again. 
 
 And onward he came as haughty and grand 
 As if he alone were ruling the land ; 
 Oft spreading his tail and flapping his wings, 
 And feeling, no doubt, as great as a king. 
 
 But woe unto him, that crow was his last, 
 For one of our friends most cruelly cast 
 Direct at his crest, a most ponderous stone, 
 And true to his aim the missile was thrown. 
 
 89 
 
The laws of the art he had studied in " Phil.," 
 And knew just exactly the manner to kill : 
 Then wonder no more, friends, whenever you hear 
 How fowls on the " Point" so oft disappear. 
 
 They rushed to the spot and seized on their prey, 
 
 And under a cape soon stowed him away ; 
 
 And hurrying home they thought with delight 
 
 Of the " time " they would have in Barracks that night 
 
 And when sable night had come with her gloom, 
 They went to the wood near the Commandant's room 
 And gathered some chips, some splinters and sticks, 
 And took from a pile an armful of bricks. 
 
 The bricks were arranged in two double rows, 
 The purpose is plain, of course, I suppose, 
 For just in between them the fire was made, 
 And over the fire the frying pan laid. 
 
 All this you know was done after "taps," 
 When the other Cadets were taking their naps, 
 While over the door and window beside, 
 A couple of quilts securely were tied. 
 
 And over the floor these careful adepts, 
 The blankets had laid, to muffle their steps ; 
 And this being done as soon as they could, 
 They struck up a light and kindled the wood. 
 
 90 
 
Then one of these three who acted as cook,. 
 Got down an old bag, and from it he took 
 Some butter, and salt, and pepper, and bread, 
 And then the old cock of which we have read. 
 
 How the cock was obtained you have certainly heard, 
 The rest, without asking leave, license, or word, 
 They " stole " from the " mess," or " hived " as they say 
 In tumblers, and cups at dinner that day. 
 
 They mixed in a trice, in a general mass, 
 The comfits above and hastened to pass, \ 
 The mass from the wash-bowl into the pan, 
 And blew up the fire with " Phil." for a fan. 
 
 It simmered and stewed, and fizzled and fried, 
 Till " cook " had declared, the boasting of pride, 
 Twas done to a " T," and giving a grin 
 He vowed 'twas the best he ever had seen. 
 
 Ah ! there was a dream of revelry then, 
 As over the " hash " these jovial men 
 Did stand to inhale its savory smell, 
 And all was merry as a marriage bell. 
 
 91 
 
 But hark ! there's a sound like a rap on the door ! 
 That faintly comes up from the lowermost floor ; 
 " Did ye not hear it ?" said one of the crew. 
 Oh ! " nary a hear," said the other, " did you ?" 
 
 
But hark ! once again, 'tis a rap on the door, 
 And nearer this time, and more loud than before. 
 And steps on the stair all muffled and slow, 
 Too plainly declare " what's up " down below. 
 
 Ah ! there was a deal of scampering then, 
 As rushing about these scare-stricken men 
 Endeavored to hide the signs of the fry, 
 Or " hash " if you like, from the officer's eye. 
 
 But vain the attempt, for one in the fright 
 Knocked over the lamp and put out the light ; 
 And " cook " let the dish containing the " hash " 
 Descend on the floor with a terrible crash. 
 
 As this had destroyed their hopes of the feast, 
 They thought they would save some disgrace at the least 
 And those of the room slipped into their beds 
 And gathered the covering over their heads. 
 
 The others who heard with the deepest despair 
 The officer's step on the neighboring stair, 
 And saw that all chances of running were lost, 
 Endeavored to hide in the room of their host. 
 
Two under the bed quite skillfully slid, 
 And fancied themselves right carefully hid ; 
 And all of the rest, some two or three more, 
 Secreted themselves in rear of the door. 
 
 All this was arranged much sooner than said, 
 So fearfully near the officer's tread 
 Was heard in the hall, and all in the room, 
 Now still as the dead, awaited their doom. 
 
 And scarcely a moment transpired before 
 
 The officer's hand laid open the door ; 
 
 And gazing around he saw what was wrong, 
 
 And searching the room he " hived " the whole throng. 
 
 Nor must you suppose that this was the end, 
 For fellows thus "hived" most commonly spend 
 Some Saturday nights on sentinel's posts, 
 To pay for the " hash " and the fun they have lost. 
 
 HER TREASURES. 
 
 B V M A R V A INGE 
 
 K V E R E. 
 
 I KEEP them jn the old, old box 
 That Willie gave me years ago, 
 
 The time we parted on the rocks ; 
 His ship lay swinging to and fro, 
 
 As waiting in the lower bay. 
 
 I thought my heart would break, that day ! 
 
 The picture with the pensive eyes 
 
 Is Willie's? No, dear, that's young Blake, 
 
 Who took the West Point highest prize : 
 He went half crazy for my sake. 
 
 Here are a lot of rhymes he wrote, 
 
 And here's a button off his coat. 
 
 Is this his ring ? My dearest May, 
 I never took a ring from him ! 
 
 This was a gift from Howard Clay. 
 See how the pearls are growing dim. 
 
 They say that pearls are tears, what stuff ! 
 
 The setting looks a little rough. 
 
 93 
 
13 
 
 He was as handsome as a prince 
 And jealous ! But he went to Rome 
 
 Last fall. He's never written since. 
 I used to visit at his home, 
 
 A lovely place beyond Fort Lee : 
 
 His mother thought the world of me! 
 
 Oh no ! I sent his letters hack. 
 
 These came to me from Washington. 
 But look, what a tremendous pack ! 
 
 He always wrote me three for one. 
 I know I used to treat him ill, 
 Poor Jack, he fell at Chancellorsville. 
 
 The vignettes all 'that lot are scalps 
 I took in London, Naples, Nice, 
 
 At Paris, and among the Alps : 
 
 Those foreign lovers act like geese, 
 
 But, dear, they arc such handsome men. 
 
 We go to France, next year, again ! 
 
 This is the doctor's signet ring. 
 
 -These faded flowers ? Oh, let me see : 
 Why, what a very curious thing ! 
 
 Who could have sent these flowers to me ? 
 Ah ! now I have it, Count de Twirl : 
 He married that fat Crosbie girl. 
 
 His hair was red. You need not look 
 
 So sadly at that raven tress. 
 You know the head that lock forsook ; 
 
 You know, but you could never guess ! 
 Nor would I tell you for the world 
 About whose brow that ringlet curled. 
 
 Why won't I tell ? Well, partly, child, 
 Because you like the man yourself; 
 
 But most because don't get so wild ! 
 I have not laid him on the shelf, 
 
 He's not a by-gone. In a year, 
 
 I'll tell vou all about him, dear. 
 
 94 
 
AX INVITATION TO THE ARMY; OR, LOVE'S APPEAL. 
 
 PATRICK COSTIGAN. 
 A IK The Spider and the Fly. 
 
 "\VILL you live with me in quarters?" said the Lieuten- "We'll have the quarter of a yard where the mud's up 
 
 ant to his bride, 
 "They've the loveliest room and kitchen that ever you 
 
 have spied ; 
 There's the most contracted closet that ever you have 
 
 seen, 
 
 And the very smokiest chimney that ever was, I ween." 
 " Oh! no," says the ambitious bride, " It really cannot be, 
 One room and a kitchen will never do for me." 
 
 "There's the sweetest little attic, for the cook and nurse 
 
 to use, 
 
 If the Q. M. hasn't assigned it, that to us he won't refuse, 
 And a common hall for all of us, you and I and all the 
 
 fellows, 
 
 From which the other officers will borrow our umbrellas." 
 "Oh! no," says this prudent bride, " I'll stay at home 
 
 with ma, 
 
 Where my rubbers and my waterproof in perfect safety 
 are." 
 
 to your shoes, 
 Where the garrison cats all congregate for latest feline 
 
 news ; 
 
 And the quarter of a cellar, where we will keep our coals, 
 
 If ' strikers ' do not steal them, and prejudice their soles." 
 
 " Oh ! no," says this politic bride, as she fixes her back hair, 
 
 " I prefer my father's cellar, and cats' concerts I can't bear." 
 
 " We can live on commissary stores, the beef's not vcrv 
 
 tough, 
 And the coffee's not all chiccory, though pretty deuced 
 
 rough, 
 And the sugar really isn't sand, and the bread quite fine 
 
 is thought, 
 
 And Mrs. Burke will sell us milk at fifteen cents a quart." 
 " Oh ! no," says this domestic bride, "I fear I must say no, 
 
 sir; 
 
 I like our own milkman the best, and I would not 
 change my grocer." 
 
 95 
 
" And then as for society, there's my old friend Bill Green, 
 A better hand at cocktails I think was never seen ; 
 And Brown, the ' new appointment,' we will ask to 
 
 join our mess, 
 He's always getting a box from home, but we need not 
 
 charge him less." 
 ' Oh ! no," says this diffident bride, " I've met that Mr. 
 
 Green, 
 
 And a more disreputable drunkard I think I've rarely 
 seen." 
 
 "And then, about the baby, the precious little lamb, 
 With Johnson's little boys he'll play, who'll teach him 
 
 how to damn ; 
 And the men can teach him jokes, and likewise how to 
 
 .chew, 
 And he'll learn to take his cocktail, as he sees his father 
 
 do." 
 " Oh ! no," this moral bride remarks, "we must not let him 
 
 thus 
 
 Learn all about ' two pairs ' and a 'full,' his ' bitters,' and 
 to cuss." 
 
 " Then the cook will marry Sergeant Rourke, for a 
 
 laundresship, you know, 
 And the nurse will marry Schmidt of the band, who 
 
 plays the piccolo ; 
 And they'll recommend their cousins to fill their vacant 
 
 places, 
 Who will go off with other men, as generally the 
 
 case is." 
 "Oh ! no," says this discreetest bride, "my home I think 
 
 I'll tarry in. 
 
 Our girls have got no cousins, and they do not think of 
 marrying." 
 
 " Well then, my dear, please let me know what you 
 
 intend to do ; 
 
 I have but little time to stay, and I must part from you ; 
 My leave is up to-morrow, and I wish you'd settle now 
 Whether you'll come or stay at home. Is this whiskey? 
 
 well then, how !" 
 " Oh ! oh !" says the sorrowful bride, as from the room 
 
 he goes, 
 " I think /'//take a suite of rooms at Cozzens' or at Roe's." 
 
 96 
 
WE'LL DOFF THE GRAY, AND DON THE BLUE. 
 
 A GRADUATING SONG OF CLASS '47. 
 
 HURRAH ! for the merry bright month of June ! 
 
 That opens a life so new ; 
 When we doff the cadet, and don the brevet, 
 
 And change the gray for the blue. 
 
 This world we may find a right hard world, 
 
 As we travel its mazes through ; 
 But with right stout hearts we'll play our parts, 
 
 When we change the gray for the blue. 
 
 To the struggles of youth, to the mimic of war, 
 
 To our sports, to our follies, adieu. 
 We are now for the strife in the battle of life, 
 
 We must change the gray for the blue. 
 
 Some will be bound for Oregon's shore, 
 
 And some to the famed Vera Cruz, 
 We'll see Matamoras and the fair senoras 
 
 Though not as the grays, but as the blues. 
 
 Where the bugles are calling on Mexico's plains, 
 May we all to our colors prove true, 
 
 Be cool and be steady with "Old Rough and Ready," 
 Nor tarnish the gray, nor the blue. 
 97 
 
 The hero of Lundy again takes the field 
 
 The scenes of his youth to renew ; 
 Let it be our first pride to stand by his side 
 
 And prove that the grays are true blue. 
 
 With Niagara's hero, the brave General Scott 
 
 The stout-hearted soldier, and true, 
 We will triumph in victory, or fall in its arms, 
 
 Lamented by gray and by blue. 
 
 Tho' broken the tie that has bound us awhile, 
 
 Fate shall ne'er dissever the few 
 Of a true-hearted band who, linked hand in hand, 
 
 Change together the" gray for the blue. 
 
 The gray of the morning is warmed by the sun 
 
 To the azure at noon's bright hue ; 
 As morn at our time ripens fast to its prime, 
 
 When we change the gray for the blue. 
 
 True, clouds may arise to o'ershadow our skies, 
 But the sunbeams will still burst thro,' 
 
 And with crimson and gold touch each silvery fold, 
 As they blend the gray with the blue. 
 
SONG OF THE CLASS OF '79. 
 
 SUMMER OF '75. 
 
 IN eighteen hundred and seventy-five, 
 
 On West Point's rocky shore, 
 Was formed the class whose name shall last 
 
 Till time shall be no more. 
 Hail ! to our Alma Mater, 
 
 The nursery of the brave, 
 And hail ! to a life of action, 
 
 And a soldier's death and grave. 
 
 From Eastward, and from Westward, . 
 
 The men have come afar, 
 To make their lives their country's, 
 
 And learn the art of war ; 
 From Massachusetts fertile shore ; 
 
 From the sterile coast of Maine ; 
 From many a well-loved Southern home ; 
 
 From many a Western plain ; 
 
 98 
 
 From the lordly Mississippi, 
 
 Which flows through all the land, 
 And waters flowery meadows, 
 
 Where long-horned cattle stand ; 
 And bears upon its bosom, 
 
 Where Leviathan might disport, 
 The spoils the wealthy planter sends 
 
 To the far-off Southern port ; 
 Bears them to the distant city, 
 
 Where once the ground was red 
 With the blood of those whose cheers arose 
 
 When the British Army fled ! 
 
 From the vast Northwestern region, 
 
 Where the painted savage roams, 
 Murdering babes and women, 
 
 And burning happy homes ; 
 From the far Pacific shore they come 
 
 To bow at the War-god's shrine, 
 And so at last is formed the class 
 
 Dear, good old Seventy-Nine ! 
 
SUMMER OF '76. 
 
 Through many a trial and sorrow, 
 
 With many a tear and sigh, 
 Our fourth class year we've finished, 
 
 And "yearling camp" is nigh. 
 Yearling camp, that happy time, 
 
 When we'll be free to " spoon " 
 Each beauteous "femme," whose bright eyes shame 
 
 The glowing sun of June. 
 
 But we mourn for many a lost one, 
 
 Who, idle, or unwary, 
 Let his budding laurels die 
 
 'Neath the snows of January ; 
 Let them lie unheeded, 
 
 Unplucked, along his path, 
 And spent his time on " extra," 
 
 And got "found" in French or " Math." 
 
 SUMMER OF 77. 
 FURLOUGH. 
 
 And now our "yearling year" is past, 
 
 Bold " furloughmen " are we, 
 Free as the perfumed breeze that sighs 
 
 Across the summer sea ; 
 Free to seek our loved ones, 
 
 And clasp them in our arms ; 
 Free to feast our eyes upon 
 
 Our sweethearts' glowing charms. 
 
 We've dreamt of the joys of furlough 
 Through all the winter past ; 
 
 Day and night its image bright 
 
 Has shone before our dazzled sight, 
 
 And been a sweet alluring light ; 
 And now it's come at last ! 
 
 99 
 
SUMMER OF '78 FIRST CLASS CAMP. 
 
 The fight is nearly o'er, my friends, 
 
 The battle nearly done, 
 For the third long year is over, 
 
 And "first class camp" is won. 
 We'll "rag" no more in Tactics, 
 
 We'll "fess" no more in " Chim," 
 For Graduating Furlough 
 
 Shines in the distance dim. 
 
 Many a weary hour we've " boned" 
 
 Those Occult Analytics, 
 Many a " frigid fess " we've made 
 
 On Molecular Mechanics ; 
 Many a time we've pondered 
 
 The Myst'ries of Acoustics, 
 Many a night we've " run" a light, 
 
 To learn the laws of Optics. 
 
 SUMMER OF 79 GRADUATION. 
 
 Farewell to all our studies here, 
 
 Farewell to Hudson's stream, 
 Farewell to the dear old uniform, 
 
 To the buttons' flashing gleam ; 
 Farewell to the old gray barracks, 
 
 Farewell to camp and plain, 
 Farewell to many a comrade 
 
 We ne'er may see again ! 
 
 For now the trial is over, 
 
 The long four years are past, 
 And we go to do our life's work, 
 
 Where'er our lines be cast. 
 Let Classmate be to Classmate 
 
 A trusting, loving friend ; 
 Let us stand by one another 
 
 From this day unto the end! 
 
 Then, fellows, in years that are to come, 
 
 Far in the future time, 
 Well known to fame shall be the name 
 
 Of the class of '79. 
 
 G. E. H. 
 
 IOO 
 
FURLOUGH SONG OF '79. 
 
 W. E. P. FRENCH, '79. 
 Am Away with Melancholy. 
 
 WE'VE " boned " for two years steady, 
 But the good time's come at last, 
 
 And we look on a " yearling " already 
 As a thing of the distant past. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then fill to the brim your glasses, 
 Here's a health to old '79, 
 
 The dearest and best of classes, 
 May she " rag " to the end of time. 
 
 To our homes, to our loved ones we're going, 
 To those whom we hold most dear, 
 
 And with joy all our hearts are glowing, 
 As for '79 we cheer. Clio. 
 
 No roll-calls or other formations 
 
 Till our glorious furlough is through, 
 
 But on " spooney " demonstrations 
 We'll coldly " max " it through. Cho. 
 
 All trouble and care we will banish 
 Till our glorious furlough is o'er ; 
 
 And " Math," and French, and Spanish, 
 We'll never " fess " on more. Cho. 
 
 With wine, and song, and the ladies, 
 
 The hours will quickly fly ; 
 And we'll fill in all odd moments 
 
 By " hiving" a kiss on the sly. Cho. 
 
 We dread to the Point returning, 
 
 W 7 e shrink from its rock-bound shore 
 
 Where " Phil " and " Chem " are yearning 
 To make life a fearful bore. Cho. 
 
SECOND SECTION. CLASS '79. 
 J. A. JOHNSTON, '79. 
 
 AIR Farmer Boy. 
 
 " MR. BEACH," the instructor cried, 
 
 " A front board you may take, 
 And a linear perspective of the column 
 
 You may make ; 
 With a pedestal square, and abacus, 
 
 And the shadow of the same 
 On the surface of the column, you also 
 May explain." 
 
 Straight up to the board he went 
 
 And his knees began to shake, 
 And for " pure and simple principles," 
 
 In vain his head he raked ; 
 But, suddenly to him occurred 
 
 A thought, to him not new, 
 A thought, my friends, will you just think ! 
 
 Of trying to " bugle it " through. 
 
 Then he drew himself up to his fullest height, 
 
 And to a ruler froze, 
 Then faced about courageously 
 
 And gazed down on his toes ; 
 While the instructor cast a knowing glance 
 
 'Round about the room, 
 Until at length it rested on 
 
 The man whom he had doomed. 
 
 He smiled. Ah yes ! then swallowed his ( 
 
 And then he opened his book, 
 And then he ducked his chin right in 
 
 And called on Mr. Brooks ; 
 When in there walked that well-known form 
 
 Whose classic name is ( -) 
 Who rubbed his hands most gleefully, 
 
 And called up little French. 
 
" Ah ! very good !" he softly cried, 
 " I presume the work's your own ; 
 I'll hear your demonstration 
 As far as you have gone." 
 (Dick heaved a groan full fraught with pain.) 
 Thought the instructor, " I've made a hive, 
 " I'll fess him cold and cuss him out ; 
 Then give him just one five." 
 
 With ready skill he carved (one five) 1.5, 
 
 Which he was wont to do, 
 And a frown came o'er his placid face 
 
 As he thundered, " That will do." 
 For, true to his word, he " fessed " Dick cold ; 
 
 Then turned with fiendish glee 
 To Prof. Church, well known to fame, 
 
 Who " fessed " the other three. 
 
 Stivers, Jenkins, Jordan, and Jolly were called 
 
 The vacant boards to take ; 
 Which left myself and Fatty Hewitt 
 
 In a highly chronic state. 
 But Fatty's grief was turned to joy, 
 
 Which widened into glee 
 When the instructor, With a loving smile, 
 
 Directly called on me. 
 
 Ha ! I braced myself for the coming fight ; 
 
 But alas ! it was no use, 
 For I wallowed in the mire of ignorance 
 
 And sank down a la Huse. 
 So likewise the front-board-men, 
 
 In " fessing " did persist, 
 Till the instructor, with a disgusted air, 
 
 His LOVING flock dismissed. 
 
 From the second section two have gone, 
 
 Their names you know full well ; 
 For the name of one is " Deacon" Smith, 
 
 Of the other, Mills, A. L. 
 Alas ! alas ! poor " Deacon " Smith, 
 
 His fate I do bewail ; 
 For Mills, A. L., he went to the " first," 
 
 But the deacon slid out at the tail. 
 
Now silence reigned throughout the room, 
 
 As he over his book did bend, 
 Seeking for a deserving one, to the 
 
 Fourth front board to send ; 
 At length his glance was riveted, 
 
 As plainly could be seen, 
 It rested on the historic name 
 
 Of Henry Alexander Greene. 
 
 And now a look of fear was seen 
 
 On the faces of the rest, 
 A shudder ran through the manly forms 
 
 Which sat just on his left. 
 Once more he takes his book in hand, 
 
 Another fiendish view ; 
 And then he murmured half aloud, 
 " Mr. Huse, I'll question you." 
 
 " Mr. Huse, can you tell me 
 
 What is a tangential curve? 
 You've had it in Church's Calculus, 
 
 No doubt you will observe." 
 " Well, yes, sir ! I think I can." 
 And then he followed suit, 
 By shooting off quite fluently, 
 " It's a line, or curve of pursuit." 
 
 But at length the instructor " fessed him cold," 
 
 Then gently set him down ; 
 And with malignant satisfaction 
 
 Turned Mr. Beach around ; 
 Who, with downcast looks and sheepish smile, 
 
 In which the other three all shared, 
 He softly whispered, " Lieutenant, 
 
 I'm not yet quite prepared." 
 
.' 
 
 W T E'VE not much longer here to stay, 
 
 For in a week or two 
 We'll bid farewell to " Cadet gray," 
 
 And don the "Army blue." 
 
 With pipe and song we'll jog along 
 Till this short time is through, 
 
 And all among our jovial throng 
 Have donned the Army blue. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Army blue, Army blue, 
 We'll don the Army blue ; 
 
 We'll bid farewell to " Cadet gray," 
 And don the "Army blue." 
 
 101 
 
To Ethics, Mineralogy, 
 
 And Engineering, too, 
 We'll bid good-bye without a sigh, 
 
 And don the Army blue. Clio. 
 
 To the ladies who come up in June 
 
 We'll bid a fond adieu, 
 And hoping they'll be married soon, 
 
 We'll don the Army blue. Cho. 
 
 Now here's to the man who wins the cup, 
 
 May he be kind and true, 
 And may he bring " OUR GODSON " up 
 
 To don the Army blue. Cho. 
 
 Now, fellows, we must say good-bye, 
 We've stuck our four years through ; 
 
 Our future is a cloudless sky, 
 We'll don the Army blue. Clio. 
 
 Rip, slap, bang, hurrah ! Cho. 
 
 L. W. BECK LAW. 
 
 102 
 
REQUIEM. 
 
 From the Army and Navy Journal. 
 
 Benny Havens, the subject of the song " Benny Havens, Oh," died at 
 Highland Falls, N. Y., May 291)1, 1877, at the age of 89 years. 
 
 O'BRIEN'S harp was sweetly strung 
 And gave us joy, long, long ago, 
 
 While we, with union voices sung 
 The worth of " Benny Havens, oh !" 
 
 That harp now hangs on willow branch, 
 And He of whom it sang lies low ; 
 
 No more our steps will seek his ranche 
 To grasp the hand of " Havens, oh !" 
 
 For ninety years his eye shone out, 
 
 And friendly smiles met friend and foe, 
 
 But now the spark of life's gone out ! 
 No more we'll greet our " Havens, oh !" 
 
 We lay his whiten'd locks beneath 
 
 The harden'd earth no pomp, no show 
 
 But granite rocks give burial wreaths, 
 
 And soft May winds chant " Havens, oh !" 
 
 He ran his course we all do that 
 
 God crowns the victor, high or low ! 
 To Him we pray " Rcquicscat 
 
 fn pace" " Benny Havens, oh !" 
 
 103 
 
 B." 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Prof. (Col.) ALBERT E. CHURCH, LL.D.% U. S Military Academy, died 
 suddenly at West Point, N. Y., on Saturday, March 3Oth, 1878 
 
 AYE ! There he lies, as if in deep sleep ! 
 
 No painful thought upon his brow ! 
 Then why should we, who loved him, weep, 
 
 Knowing he rests so calmly now ? 
 
 Oh ! that my hour, the last on earth, 
 
 Could be assured to be as calm ! 
 Oh ! pray ye all and hail the worth 
 
 Of such a death for such a palm ! 
 
 His death was like his life of years 
 That God in ages past has spanned ; 
 
 Then for ourselves, let flow our tears, 
 But praise God for the perfect man. 
 
 A heart, for others, full of love, 
 
 Mind, that from duty never swerved 
 
 His daily walk was far above 
 
 This sordid earth for God he served. 
 
 He did not die ! He merely cast 
 
 His robe of work aside and left 
 This weary world, and calmly passed 
 
 Through that dark rock that Christ hath cleft. 
 
 B." 
 
OUR SKELETON ARMY. 
 
 W. A. CROFFUT. 
 
 OUR Skeleton Army ! It seems like the dead 
 
 To the buzzards rapacious that wheel overhead ; 
 
 Yet its nerve is of steel, and its eye is of fire, 
 
 And the tattered old banner waves brighter and higher. 
 
 The field of the son for the flag of the sire ! 
 
 It stands like a storm-beaten bulwark of doom 
 
 To beat back the fury of tempests to come. 
 
 Along the wild border the menaces rise, 
 Where lurks the red savage with death in his eyes. 
 Ten thousand young warriors are riding around, 
 And the whisper of fate steals away underground 
 A message of silence more awful than sound ! 
 But the baby is safe in its fond mother's care, 
 While Uncle Sam's Skeleton Army is there. 
 
 Where cactus and chaparral bloom o'er the sand 
 On the fretted frontier of the Mexican land, 
 The tumult grows louder a presage of strife, 
 The flash and the crash of the rifle and knife ; 
 The direful old story a life for a life ! 
 But we fear not the sweep of the besom of wrath, 
 For the Skeleton Army is guarding the path ! 
 
 To the Nation another voice rings through the air 
 From prairie to sea, " Have a care ! Have a care ! 
 These heroes of ours in their jackets of blue 
 Reproach us that they are so feeble and few 
 As you do to (hem, will we do unto y 'ou ! 
 Make vital these bones, and the Army shall be 
 The guardian and pride of the land of the free !" 
 
 106 
 
CUSTER. 
 
 EDMUND C. STEDMAN. 
 
 WHAT ! shall that sudden blade 
 Leap out no more? 
 
 No more thy hand he laid 
 Upon the sword-hilt, smiting sore ? 
 O for another such 
 
 The charger's rein to clutch, 
 One equal voice to summon victory, 
 
 Sounding thy battle-cry, 
 Brave darling of the soldiers' choice ! 
 
 Would there were one more voice ! 
 
 O gallant charge, too bold ! 
 O fierce imperious greed 
 
 To pierce the clouds that in their darkness hold 
 Slaughter of man and steed ! 
 Now, stark and cold, 
 Among thy fallen braves thou liest, 
 And even with thy blood defiest 
 
 The wolfish foe ; 
 But ah, thou liest low, 
 And all our birth-day song is hushed indeed ! 
 
 Young lion of the plain, 
 
 Thou of the tawny mane ! 
 Hotly the soldiers' hearts shall beat, 
 
 Their mouths thy death repeat, 
 Their vengeance seek the trail again 
 
 Where thy red doomsmen be ; 
 But on the charge no more shall stream 
 Thy hair, no more thy sabre gleam, 
 
 No more ring out thy battle-shout, 
 Thy cry of victoi y ! 
 
 Not when a hero falls 
 
 The sound a world appals : 
 
 For while we plant his cross 
 There is a glory, even in the loss : 
 
 But when some craven heart 
 
 From honor dares to part, 
 Then, then, the groan, the blanching cheek, 
 
 And men in whispers speak, 
 Nor kith nor country dare reclaim 
 
 From the black dqpths his name. 
 
 107 
 
Thou, wild young warrior, rest, 
 By all the prairie winds caressed ! 
 
 Swift was thy dying pang ; 
 
 Even as the war-cry rang 
 Thy deathless spirit mounted high 
 
 And sought Columbia's sky : 
 There, to the northward far, 
 
 Shines a new star, 
 And from it blazes down 
 The light of thy renown ! 
 
 THE CAVALRY CHARGE. 
 
 EDMUND C. STEDMAN. 
 
 OUR good steeds snuff the evening air, 
 Our pulses with their purpose tingle ; 
 
 The foeman's fires are twinkling there ; 
 He leaps to hear our sabres jingle ! 
 
 1 08 
 
 HALT! 
 
 Each carbine sent its whizzing ball : 
 Now, cling ! clang ! forward all, 
 Into the fight ! 
 
 Dash on beneath the smoking dome : 
 Through level lightnings gallop nearer. 
 
 One look to heaven ! No thoughts of home : 
 The guidons that we bear are dearer. 
 
 CHARGE ! 
 
 Clang ! Clang ! forward all ! 
 Heaven help those whose horses fall: 
 Cut left and right ! 
 
 They flee before our fierce attack ! 
 
 They fall ! they spread in broken surges. 
 Now, comrades, bear our wounded back, 
 
 And leave the foeman to his dirges. 
 
 WHEEL ! 
 
 The bugles sound the swift recall : 
 Clang ! clang ! backward all ! 
 
 Home, and good-night! 
 
OLD COMANCHE. 
 
 HEADQUARTERS SEVENTH UNITED STATES CAVALRY, ) 
 [GENERAL ORDERS, No. 7.] FORT A. LINCOLN, DAK., April 10, 1878. )" 
 
 I. The horse known as Comanche being the cnly living representative of the bloody tragedy of the Little Big Horn, June 25th, 1876, his kind treatment 
 and comfort should be a matter of pride and solicitude on the part of every member of the Seventh Cavalry, to the end that his life may be prolonged to 
 the utmost limit. Wounded and scarred as he is, his very existence speaks in terms more eloquent than words of the desperate struggle against over 
 whelming numbers of the hopeless conflict and of the heroic manner in which all went down on that fatal day. 
 
 II. The commanding officer of Company I will see that, a special and comfortable stall is fitted up for him, and he will not be ridden by any person 
 whatever, under any circumstances, nor will he be put to any kind of work. 
 
 III. Hereafter, upon all occasions of ceremony (of mounted regimental formation), Comanche, saddled, bridled, draped in mourning, and led by a mounted 
 trooper of Company I, will be paraded with the regiment. 
 
 By command of 
 
 BREVET MAJOR-GENERAL S. D. STURGIS, Colonel Seventh Regiment. 
 ERNST A. GARLINGTON, First Lieutenant and Adjutant Seventh Cavalry. 
 
 HONOR to old Comanche, 
 
 The sole survivor he 
 Of the fierce fight where Custer died 
 
 With all his chivalry. 
 
 Honor to Keogh's charger ! 
 Only his flashing eye 
 
 Saw the Three Hundred fighting- 
 Saw the Three Hundred die ! 
 
 His was the place of honor 
 
 Where his Irish rider fell, 
 When the Seventh rode into the valley 
 
 That blazed like the mouth of hell ! 
 
 The horse is part of the soldier ; 
 
 He mixed his blood with theirs; 
 Therefore for old Comanche 
 
 All comforts and no cares. 
 
 For him free stall and pasture, 
 While strength and life remain ; 
 
 And let no living rider 
 Bestride his back again ! 
 
 109 
 
But when the bugles summon 
 The Seventh to parade, 
 
 Saddle and bridle Comanche, 
 In sable housings arrayed; 
 
 And let a trooper lead him, 
 The horse that saw Custer die, 
 
 Forth to the place of honor 
 In the front of Company I ! 
 
 Will he neigh to his fellows, whose riders 
 
 Fell on that fatal morn ? 
 Will they hear him amid the trumpets, 
 
 Out on the Little Big-Horn ? 
 
 Honor to old Comanche, 
 
 While strength and life remain ! 
 
 But, oh ! to see the Captain 
 Upon his back again ! 
 
 BEFORE THE ATTACK. 
 
 PATIENCE, O comrades, the time will come 
 
 When the signal gun shall flash, 
 And the blare of bugle and roll of drum 
 
 Shall join with the rifle's crash. 
 
 Then the ranks of the foe shall be crushed and riven, 
 They shall scatter before us like clouds storm riven ; 
 But steady now, till the word is given, 
 
 Then go with a da'sh. 
 
 But a little longer Tis deadly still- 
 Will the signal never come ? 
 
 Now ready blow, trumpeter, blow with a will, 
 Beat, drummer, upon your drum, 
 
 Our waiting is over there booms the gun, 
 
 Look to your rifles stand steady, each one. 
 
 Now forward, O comrades mine, with a run ; 
 Hurrah ! strike home ! ' 
 
 IIO 
 
THE WRATH OF THE BLACK HILLS. 
 
 THERE was silence in the canyons, 
 
 There was silence on the hills ; 
 And the valley of the Rosebud 
 
 Poured its songs of summer rills ; 
 And summer birds in brambles, 
 
 And low zephyrs in the vines 
 On the path of Ouster's squadrons, 
 
 As they rode among the pines. 
 
 Their steeds were worn and weary, 
 
 For they journeyed fast and far, 
 From the fading of the twilight 
 
 To the paling of the star. 
 But 'twas morning on the Big Horn, 
 
 Dawn of rest for steed and man ; 
 How the daylight laughed with gladness 
 
 Where the sparkling river ran ! 
 
 All is silent by the river 
 
 Save the murmur of its voice, 
 And the summer leaves that rustle 
 
 In the zephyrs, and rejoice. 
 But see! the frightened eagle 
 
 Quits his eyry in the sky 
 And hark ! those yells of madness, 
 
 That do drown the eagle's cry. 
 
 From every rock and ravine, 
 
 From each hilltop, slope, and dell, 
 They swarm in yelling legions, 
 
 They are fiends let loose from hell ! 
 A thousand ringing rifles, 
 
 Send their messengers of wrath ! 
 A thousand whizzing arrows 
 
 Follow swiftly in their path ! 
 
 See the reeling stricken squadrons ! 
 
 Dying man, and dying steed ! 
 They fly they halt, they rally ! 
 
 But in vain they fight and bleed. 
 Still the ravines send their legions, 
 
 Pouring onward like a flood ! 
 And the air is black with terror, 
 And the sands are red with blood ! 
 
 There is silence in the canyons, 
 
 There is silence on the hills. 
 Where the sands are red with slaughter 
 
 There are songs of summer rills. 
 The birds sing by the streamlets, 
 
 And the pine tree nods its crest ; 
 And the eagle from the cloudlet 
 
 Has gone back to find her nest. 
 
 A. T. LEE. 
 
THE REVENGE OF RAIN-IN-THE-FACE. 
 
 H. W. LONGFELLOW. 
 
 IN that desolate land and lone, 
 Where the Big Horn and Yellowstone 
 
 Roar down their mountain path, 
 By their fires the Sioux Chiefs 
 Muttered their woes and griefs 
 
 And the menace of their wrath. 
 
 " Revenge !" cried Rain-in-the-Face, 
 " Revenge upon all the race 
 
 Of the White Chief with yellow hair !" 
 And the mountains dark and high 
 From their crags re-echoed the cry 
 Of his anger and despair. 
 
 In the meadow, spreading wide 
 By woodland and riverside 
 
 The Indian village stood ; 
 All was silent as a dream, 
 Save the rushing of the stream 
 And the blue-jay in the wood. 
 
 In his war-paint and his beads, 
 Like a bison among the reeds, 
 
 In ambush the Sitting Bull 
 Lay with three thousand braves 
 Crouched in the clefts and caves, 
 
 Savage, unmerciful ! 
 
 Into the fatal snare 
 
 The White Chief with yellow hair 
 
 And his three hundred men 
 Dashed headlong, sword in hand ; 
 But of that gallant band 
 
 Not one returned again. 
 
 The sudden darkness of death 
 Overwhelmed them like the breath 
 
 And smoke of a furnace fire : 
 By the river's bank, and between 
 The rocks of the ravine, 
 
 They lay in their bloody attire. 
 
But the foeman fled in the night, 
 And Rain-in-the-Face, in his flight, 
 
 Uplifted high in air 
 As a ghastly trophy, bore 
 The brave heart, that beat no more, 
 
 Of the White Chief with yellow hair. 
 
 Whose was the right and the wrong ? 
 Sing it, O funeral song, 
 
 With a voice that is full of tears, 
 And say that our broken faith 
 Wrought all this ruin and scathe, 
 
 In the Year of a Hundred Years. 
 
 THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY. 
 
 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 WHAT flower is this that greets the morn, 
 Its hues from heaven so freshly born ? 
 With burning star and flaming band 
 It kindles all the sunset land ; 
 O, tell us what its name may be ! 
 Is this the Flower of Liberty ? 
 It is the banner of the free, 
 The starry Flower of Liberty ! 
 
 In savage Nature's far abode 
 Its tender seed our fathers sowed ; 
 The storm-winds rocked its swelling bud, 
 Its opening leaves were streaked with blood, 
 Till, lo ! earth's tyrants shook to see 
 The full-blown Flower of Liberty ! 
 Then hail the banner of the free, 
 The starry Flower of Liberty ! 
 
 114 
 
Behold its streaming rays unite, 
 
 One mingling flood of braided light, 
 
 The red that fires the Southern rose, 
 
 With spotless white from Northern snows, 
 
 And, spangled o'er its azure, see 
 
 The sister Stars of Liberty ! 
 
 Then hail the banner of the free, 
 The Starry Flower of Liberty ! 
 
 The blades of heroes fence it round ; 
 
 Where'er it springs is holy ground ; 
 
 From tower and dome its glories spread ; 
 
 It waves where lonely sentries tread; 
 
 It makes the land as ocean free, 
 
 And plants an empire on the sea ! 
 Then hail the banner of the free, 
 The starry Flower of Liberty ! 
 
 The sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower, 
 Shall ever float on dome and towei, 
 To all their heavenly colors true, 
 In blackening frost, or crimson dew, 
 And God love us as we love thee, 
 Thrice holy Flower of Liberty ! 
 
 Then hail the banner of the free, 
 The starry Flower of Liberty ! 
 
TOWARD THE SETTING SUN. 
 
 BEFORE the progress of his whiter foe 
 
 See the last Indian his lone journey go 
 
 With solemn mien and tread forlorn and slow. 
 
 The time has come for him 
 
 Which comes for all 
 
 Among the races that first rise, then fall. 
 Into the distance and the future dim 
 The last son, at some predetermined date, 
 
 Must set his course ; and happy he, 
 
 If, final scion, his perspective be 
 Clear of the lowering clouds of night and fate 
 Which overhang this son with gloomy weight. 
 
 Not victim of our enmity of race, 
 
 But of the system of the paler face, 
 
 Yon red man makes his forced-march, to be done 
 
 At the land-limit of the Setting Sun. 
 
 Proud, poor, alone, and sullen, sad, and strong, 
 Muffled by Nemesis, he moves along 
 With gun, scalp, blanket, feathers last in song, 
 Last man of mingled romance, right and wrong. 
 
 Where is for him the Setting Sun ? 
 
 Last Indian, whither shall his race be run ? 
 
 On the dark prairie of his destiny 
 
 We gaze with him the end we cannot see ! 
 
 Let him, untroubled, sunward move ! 
 Our race and his have wasted little love ; 
 But let us honor his last dignity 
 Who no successor of his line shall see. 
 
 His triumphs and defeats are o'er, 
 His captured fields for him yield nothing more, 
 As, with his blanket, feathers, scalp, and gun, 
 He paces slowly to the Setting Sun, 
 And leaves himself in picture, thus to be 
 American alone in Memory. T. 
 
 NEW YORK, May 7, 1878. 
 
 117 
 
RIFLE AND BOW. 
 
 R. H. STODDARD. 
 
 THE red man, whom our hardy sires 
 Found in possession of the land ; 
 
 Who built in woods his wigwam fires, 
 And smoked his pipe ; or, bow in hand, 
 
 Crept on the wild deer, or the bear 
 
 Or tracked the panther to his lair : 
 118 
 
 Who, grim, and hard of heart at best, 
 Daubed in his war-paint, stole away, 
 
 With twenty devils in his breast, 
 To where his hated foeman lay, 
 
 Whom, if asleep he could not find, 
 
 And his strong arms in pinions bind, 
 
 To burn him at the dreadful stake, 
 He would devote to sudden death ; 
 
 As suddenly his scalp would take, 
 And mock the rattle in his breath : 
 
 Then, if pappoose and squaw he saw, 
 
 Would massacre pappoose and squaw ! 
 
 These, bronzed barbarians of the Past, 
 Cast in the moulds of hell, are gone ; 
 
 Their world was wanted, far and fast 
 
 We drove them towards the setting sun. 
 
 Ay and if future need should be, 
 
 We'll drown them in the western sea ! 
 
 With iron nets we hold their trail ; 
 
 They find us wheresoe'er they go ; 
 Though fierce, they cannot make us quail 
 
 Nor match the rifle with the bow. 
 We'll give them graves, and let them try 
 The happy hunting grounds on high ! 
 
MONTEREY. 
 
 CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN. 
 
 WE were not many, we who stood 
 
 Before the iron sleet that day ; 
 Yet many a gallant spirit would 
 Give half his years if but he could 
 
 Have been with us at Monterey. 
 
 Now here, now there, the shot it hailed 
 
 In deadly drifts of fiery spray, 
 Yet not a single soldier quailed 
 When wounded comrades round them wailed 
 
 Their dying shout at Monterey. 
 
 And on, still on, our column kept, 
 
 Through walls of flame, its withering way ; 
 Where fell the dead, the living slept, 
 Still charging on the guns which swept 
 The slippery streets of Monterey. 
 
 The foe himself recoiled aghast, 
 
 When, striking where he strongest lay, 
 We swooped his flaming batteries past, 
 And braving full the murderous blast, 
 Stormed home the towers of Monterey. 
 
 Our banners on those turrets wave, 
 
 And there our evening bugles play ; 
 Where orange boughs above their grave, 
 Keep green the memory of the brave 
 Who fought and fell at Monterey. 
 
 We are not many, we who pressed 
 
 Beside the brave who fell that day ; 
 But who of us has not confessed 
 He'd rather share the warrior's rest 
 Than not have been at Monterey. 
 
 119 
 
BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD. 
 
 THEO. O KARA. 
 
 [Theodore O'Hara, of Kentucky, the author of the " Bivouac of the Dead," was a Cadet at West Point, but was " found " and did not graduate.] 
 
 THE muffled drum's sad roll has beat 
 
 The soldier's last tattoo ; 
 No more on life's parade shall meet 
 
 The brave and fallen few. 
 On fame's eternal camping ground 
 
 Their silent tents are spread, 
 And glory guards with solemn round 
 
 The bivouac of the dead ! 
 
 No rumor of the foe's advance 
 
 Now swells upon the wind ; 
 No troubled thought at midnight haunts, 
 
 Of loved ones left behind. 
 No vision of the morrow's strife, 
 
 The warrior's dream alarms ; 
 Nor braying horn nor screaming fife 
 
 At dawn shall call to arms. 
 
 Their shivered swords are red with rust, 
 
 Their plume'd heads are bowed ; 
 Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, 
 
 Is now their martial shroud ; 
 And plenteous funeral tears have washed 
 
 The red stains from each brow, 
 And the proud forms, by battle gashed, 
 
 Are freed from anguish now. 
 
 The neighing troop, the flashing blade. 
 
 The bugle's stirring blast, 
 The charge, the dreadful cannonade, 
 
 The din and shout, are past ; 
 Nor war's wild note nor glory's peal 
 
 Shall thrill with fierce delight 
 Those breasts that nevermore may feel 
 
 The raptures of the fight. 
 
 1 20 
 
For, like the dreadful hurricane 
 
 That sweeps the wild plateau, 
 Flushed with the triumph yet to gain, 
 
 Came down the serried foe, 
 Who heard the tempest of the fray 
 
 Break o'er the field beneath ; 
 Knew well the watchword of that day 
 
 Was " Victory or Death !" 
 
 Long had the doubtful conflict raged 
 
 Across the surging plain, 
 For ne'er such fight before had waged 
 
 The fiery sons of Spain ; 
 And still the storm of battle blew, 
 
 Still swelled the gory tide- 
 Not long, our stout old chieftain knew, 
 
 Such odds his strength could bide. 
 
 131 
 
 'Twas in that hour his stern command 
 
 Called to a martyr's grave, 
 The flower of his beloved land, 
 
 The nation's flag to save. 
 By rivers of their father's gore 
 
 His first-born laurels grew, 
 And well he deemed the sons would pour 
 
 Their lives for glory, too ! 
 
 Full many a Northern breath hath swept 
 
 O'er Angostura's plain, 
 And long the pitying eye hath wept 
 
 Above her mouldering slain ; 
 The raven's scream, or eagle's flight, 
 
 Or shepherd's pensive lay, 
 Alone awakes each sullen height 
 
 That frowned on that dread fray. 
 
Sons of "the dank and bloody ground," 
 
 Ye should not slumber there, 
 Where stranger steps and tongues resound 
 
 Along the heedless air ; 
 Your own proud land's heroic soil 
 
 Must be your fitter grave ; 
 She claims from war her richest spoil 
 
 The ashes of the brave ! 
 
 Now 'neath their parent turf they rest, 
 
 Far from the gory field, 
 Borne to a Spartan mother's breast, 
 
 On many a bloody shield ; 
 The sunshine of their native sky 
 
 Smiles sadly on them here, 
 And kindred eyes and hearts watch by 
 
 The soldier's sepulchre. 
 
 122 
 
 Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead, 
 
 Dear as the blood ye gave ! 
 No impious footsteps here shall tread 
 
 The herbage of your grave ; 
 Nor shall your glory be forgot 
 
 While Fame her record keeps, 
 Or honor paints the hallowed spot 
 
 Where valor proudly sleeps. 
 
 Yon faithful herald's blazoned stone, 
 
 With mournful pride, shall tell, 
 When many a vanished age hath flown, 
 
 The story how ye fell ; 
 Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's flight, 
 
 Nor time's remorseless doom, 
 Shall mar one ray of glory's light 
 
 That gilds your deathless tomb. 
 
THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 
 
 BY the flow of the inland river, 
 Whence the fleets of iron had fled, 
 
 Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, 
 Asleep are the ranks of the dead ; 
 
 Under the sod and the dew ; 
 Waiting the judgment day ; 
 
 Under the one, the Blue ; 
 
 Under the other, the Gray. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 From the silence of sorrowful hours 
 
 The desolate mourners go, 
 Lovingly laden with flowers, 
 
 Alike for the friend and the foe ; 
 Under the sod and the dew ; 
 
 Waiting the judgment day ; 
 Under the roses, the Blue ; 
 
 Under the lilies, the Gray. 
 So with an equal splendor, 
 
 The morning sun-rays fall, 
 With a touch impartially tender, 
 
 On the blossoms blooming for all ; 
 Under the sod and the dew : 
 
 Waiting the judgment day ; 
 Broidered with gold, the Blue ; 
 
 Mellowed with gold, the Gray. 
 
 So when the Summer calleth 
 
 On forest and field of grain, 
 With an equal murmur falleth 
 
 The cooling drip of the rain ; 
 Under the sod and the dew ; 
 
 Waiting the judgment day ; 
 Wet with the rain, the Blue ; 
 
 Wet with the rain, the Gray. 
 
 Sadly, but not upbraidingly, 
 
 The generous deed was done ; 
 In the storm of the years that are fading, 
 
 No braver battle was won ; 
 Under the sod and the dew, 
 
 Waiting the judgment day ; 
 Under the blossoms, the Blue ; 
 
 Under the garlands, the Gray. 
 
 No more shall the war cry sever, 
 
 Or the winding rivers be red ; 
 They banish our anger forever 
 
 When they laurel the graves of our dead ! 
 Under the sod and the dew, 
 
 Waiting the judgment day ; 
 Love and tears for the Blue ; 
 
 Tears and love for the Gray. F. M. FINCH. 
 
THE PRIDE OF BATTERY B. 
 
 F. H. GASSAWAY. 
 
 SOUTH MOUNTAIN towered upon our right, 
 
 Far off the river lay, 
 And over on the wooded height 
 
 We held their lines at bay. 
 
 At last the muttering guns were still, 
 
 The day died slow and wan. 
 At last the gunners' pipes did fill, 
 
 The sergeant's yarns began. 
 
 When, as the wind a moment blew 
 
 Aside the fragrant flood 
 Our brierwoods raised, within our view 
 
 A little maiden stood. 
 
 A tiny tot of six or seven, 
 
 From fireside fresh she seemed, 
 
 (Of such a little one in heaven 
 One soldier often dreamed.) 
 
 And, as we stared, her little hand 
 
 Went to her curly head 
 In grave salute : " And who are you ?" 
 
 At length the sergeant said. 
 124 
 
 " And where's your home ?" he growled again. 
 
 She lisped out, " Who is me? 
 Why, don't you know? I'm little Jane, 
 The Pride of Battery B. 
 
 " My home ? Why, that was burned away, 
 
 And pa and ma are dead, 
 
 And so I ride the guns all day 
 
 Along with Sergeant Ned. 
 
 " And I've a drum that's not a toy, 
 
 A cap with feathers, too, 
 And I march beside the drummer-boy 
 On Sundays at review ; 
 
 " But now our 'bacca's all give out, 
 
 The men can't have their smoke, 
 And so they're cross why, even Ned 
 Won't play with me and joke. 
 
 " And the big Colonel said, to-day 
 
 I hate to hear him swear 
 He'd give a leg for a good pipe 
 Like the Yanks had over there. 
 
" And so I thought when beat the drum, 
 
 And the big guns were still, 
 I'd creep beneath the tent and come 
 Out here across the hill, 
 
 "And beg, good Mister Yankee men, 
 
 You give me some Lone Jack, 
 Please do when we get some again 
 I'll surely bring it back. 
 
 " Indeed I will, for Ned, says he, 
 
 If I do what I say 
 I'll be a General yet, maybe, 
 And ride a prancing bay." 
 
 We brimmed her tiny apron o'er ; 
 
 You should have heard her laugh 
 As each man from his scanty store 
 
 Shook out a generous half. 
 
 To kiss the little mouth stooped down 
 
 A score of grimy men, 
 Until the Sergeant's husky voice 
 
 Said, " Tention, squad !" and then 
 
 We gave her escort, till good-night 
 
 The pretty waif we bid, 
 And watched her toddle out of sight 
 
 Or else 'twas tears that hid 
 
 Her tiny form nor turned about 
 
 A man, nor spoke a word 
 Till after a while a far, hoarse shout 
 
 Upon the wind we heard ! 
 
 We sent it back, then cast sad eyes 
 
 Upon the scene around. 
 A baby's hand had touched the ties 
 
 That brothers once had bound. 
 
 That's all save when the dawn awoke 
 
 Again the work of hell, 
 And through the sullen clouds of smoke 
 
 The screaming missiles fell. 
 
 Our General often rubbed his glass, 
 
 And marvelled much to see 
 Not a single shell that whole day fell 
 
 In the camp of Battery B. 
 
THE IRISH PICKET. 
 
 ORPHEUS C. KEKK. 
 
 I'M shtanding in the mud, Biddy, 
 With not a spalpeen near, 
 
 And silence, spaichless as the grave, 
 Is all the sound I hear. 
 
 Me goon is at the showlder arms ; 
 
 I'm wetted to the bone ; 
 And when I'm afther spakin' out, 
 
 I find myself alone. 
 
 This Western climate's quare, Biddy, 
 A quare and bastely thing, 
 
 Wid winter absint all the year, 
 And summer in the spring. 
 
 Ye mind the hot place down below ? 
 
 And may ye niver fear 
 I'd dthraw comparisons but then 
 
 It's awful warrum here. 
 
 The only moon I see, Biddy, 
 Is one shmall star, asthore, 
 
 And that's fornint the very cloud, 
 It was behind before ; 
 
 The watch-fires glame along the hill 
 
 That's swellin' to the West, 
 And whin the sentry passes them, 
 
 It never is to rest. 
 
 Its dead for shlape I am, Biddy, 
 
 And dramein' shwate I'd be, 
 If them red injuns over there 
 Would only lave me free ; 
 
 But when I lane against a shtump, 
 
 And shtrive to get repose, 
 A nasty arrow's coming straight 
 
 To hit me spacious nose. 
 
 It's ye I'd like to see, Biddy, 
 
 A shparkin here wid me, 
 And then, avourneen, hear you say 
 
 " Acushla Pat machree !" 
 
 " Och, Biddy darlint," then says I ; 
 Says you : " Get out of that !" 
 Says I : " Me arrum mates your waist " 
 Says you : " Be daycent, Pat !" 
 
 And how's the pigs and ducks, Biddy ? 
 
 It's them I think of, shure, 
 That look so innocent and shwate 
 
 Upon the parlor flure ; 
 
I'm sure ye'r aisy with the pig, 
 
 That's fat as he can be, 
 And fade him with the best, oecause 
 
 I'm tould he looks like me. 
 
 Whin I come home again, Biddy, 
 
 A sargent tried and thrue, 
 It's joost a dacent house I'll build 
 
 And rent it chaoe to you. 
 
 We'll have a parlor, bed-room, hall, 
 
 A duck-pond nately done. 
 With kitchen, pig-pen, praty-patch, 
 
 And garret all in one. 
 
 But, murther! there's a baste, Biddy, 
 That's crapin' round a tree, 
 
 And well I know the crayture's there 
 To have a shot at me. 
 
 Now, misther red skin, say yer pray'rs, 
 And howld yer dirthy paw ; 
 
 Here goes be jabers, Biddy dear, 
 I've broke his oogly jaw! 
 
A GLOSSARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Technical Words and. ^Expressions in use at the TTnited States ^Military A.ca.ciemy. 
 
 ANIMAL A new Cadet. 
 ANGLE The quarters of the bachelor Officers. 
 
 ARREST In arrest. To be deprived of all privileges, and remain in confine 
 ment. 
 
 ANNA LYTICAL Analytical geometry. 
 AREA The area the open space in rear of barracks. 
 
 AT LARGE A Cadet who is appointed by the President only ten each year. 
 BATTERY KNOX A gun battery looking down the river. 
 BEAST An appointee upon his arrival. A fourth classman. 
 BEAST BARRACKS Quarters occupied by new Cadets. 
 BENTZ The bugler who has acted in that capacity for nearly fifty years. 
 BITE TAN BARK To be thrown from a horse in riding hall. 
 BONE To bone to study hard. 
 BOOT LICK- A Sycophant. 
 
 BOARD OF VISITORS The "visiting statesmen" who "witness" the June 
 examination. 
 
 BROKEN To be reduced to the ranks for cause. (See Busted.} 
 BREAK CAMP To move into barracks from camp. 
 BUSTED To fail, or to be reduced to the ranks. (See Broken.) 
 BUGLE IT To bugle it, is to face the board until the bugle blows. 
 
 BOOK To book a subject, is to learn it from the book without under 
 standing it. To cram. 
 
 BABE The youngest man in the class. 
 
 CHEM. Chemistry. 
 
 CIT. A citizen. 
 
 CITS A suit of citizen's clothes. 
 
 COCK LOFT Top floor of the barracks. 
 
 CONFINEMENT In confinement, is to be confined to quarters. 
 
 CRAM To study hard for examination. 
 
 CUT To cut a meal, is to go without (and get a sandwich from your room 
 mate.) 
 
 CUSSING OUT To chide with rudeness and boisterous clamor. 
 
 COLD A cold fess is to fail. 
 
 To CHIN To argue the point to consume time in argument. 
 
 DAD The oldest man in the class. 
 
 DADE A " favorite " cavalry horse. 
 
 DEAD BEAT To avoid a duty. To shirk. 
 
 Div. Divisions barracks are divided into eight divisions. 
 
 DIP. Diploma. 
 
 DEMERITS Black marks 100 in six months dismiss a Cadet. 
 
 129 
 
DITCH Fort Clinton ditch, where they throw Plebes when they "devil " them 
 
 in camp. 
 DEVIL A PLEBE To annoy, to haze a new Cadet. 
 
 D T. Double time to run an order which Plebes understand. 
 
 EXTRAS To walk extras a punishment ; to walk with gun in area Saturday 
 
 afternoon. 
 
 FAREWELL HOP Last Hoo given to the graduating class by the second class. 
 FEM A girl a young lady a woman. 
 FESS To fess, is to fail to confess ignorance. 
 FESS COLD A bad failure. 
 
 FESS PERFECTLY FRIGID Is a complete failure hopeless. 
 FESS ON A CLEAN BOARD To know nothing whatever of the subject before 
 
 you. 
 
 FIRST CLASS Highest class senior. 
 FILE A Cadet. 
 
 FIZZLE To fizzle to do poorly. 
 
 FLIRTATION WALK A beautiful path where Cadets go to " spoon." 
 FOURTH CLASS Lowest class freshmen. 
 FOUND Found deficient. 
 
 FORT PUT. Fort Putnam, a ruin of the Revolution. 
 
 FURLOUGHMEN Cadets just leaving for, or just returning from, furlough. 
 FUDGE To fudge is to appear to be perfect in a lesson, and know nothing 
 
 about it. 
 
 GALL Undue precociousness. 
 GOUGE To receive unauthorized assistance. 
 GRIND A witty remark a joke. 
 HASH A cadet hash meals at room after taps. 
 HAZING To haze a plebe, to run him. 
 HIVED To be caught doing something wrong. 
 
 ( A gentleman whom Cadets will meet on the plains (Indian). 
 ' ' ' K 
 ' ( An army toast. 
 
 130 
 
 IMMORTALS The lowest in the class the last section. 
 
 JUNE BUG A Plebe who reports in June. 
 
 JUDGE Name given to a popular man by his class. 
 
 KEEN A witty remark. 
 
 LATES To be late behind time. 
 
 LAST SECTION Lowest section in the class. (See Immortals.) 
 
 ( To do a thing well a perfect recitation. 
 ~~ ( To max, is to get a high mark. 
 MATH. Mathematics. 
 MATHEW-MATICS Mathematics. 
 MENAGERIE A class of Plebes. 
 MESS HALL Dining-room for Cadets. 
 MEDICO The Surgeon at hospital. 
 
 MANGLE To "go for" to cause to fess cold to discipline. 
 NOSE THE BOARD To face the board until section is dismissed. 
 OFF LIMITS To go outside of Cadet limits to run it. 
 
 PALMS TO THE FRONT One of the first movements taught the Plebe. 
 
 PERMIT No Cadet can receive a package without .1 permit, or permission. 
 
 PINKED To be reported for some offense. 
 
 PLEBE A new Cadet, called a Plebe during fourth class year. 
 
 PHIL. Philosophy. 
 
 POLICE DETAIL To clean up camp. 
 
 PROFS. Professors. 
 
 PRELIM. Preliminary examinations. 
 
 PAPER IT To use written memoranda of the lesson during recitation. 
 
 RAG OUT To do anything well a perfect recitation. 
 
 RAG PERFECTLY REGARDLESS To be perfect, Ai. 
 
 REVEILLE 1 Morning call. 
 
 R.E.EKLESS Reckless, not attending to regulations. 
 
 RETREAT Evening parade. 
 
RICOCHET Very swell nobby. 
 
 RUN IT To run it to go off limits. 
 
 ROCKS Geology. 
 
 SALLY PORT Passage way through barracks. 
 
 STAG DANCE Dance where none but Cadets are present. 
 
 SAVEZ ? -Understand. 
 
 SEP. A Cadet who reports in September. 
 
 SET ON To "set" down on to discourage one. 
 
 SECOND CLASS Junior class. 
 
 SEA COAST BATTERY Battery on river edge, looking up the river. 
 
 SHEEPSKIN Diploma. 
 
 SKINNED To be reported. 
 
 SKIN BOOK The book in which reports are recorded. 
 
 SKIN BOARD Bulletin in guard-house, where skins are posted. 
 
 SPOON To spoon, is to flirt with a young lady. 
 
 SPOON A young lad}- sweetheart lady-love. 
 
 SPOONEY MAN One who pays particular attention to the ladies. 
 
 SECTION ROOM Recitation room. 
 
 SPOONEY LETTER A love-letter. 
 
 SHOT To be shot, is to be photographed. 
 
 SUMMER HOPS Hops given by the Cadets during summer encampment. 
 
 '3' 
 
 SCOOP To " gather in " to overcome to get the better of. 
 
 SUPE The superintendent. 
 
 STRIKERS Officers' servants. 
 
 TATTOO Tattoo, a bugle half an hour before taps. 
 
 TAPS Three taps on a drum ; signal to extinguish lights. 
 
 TAN BARKED To be thrown from horse in riding hall. 
 
 THING A Plebe. 
 
 THIRD CLASS Sophomores. 
 
 TROPHY POINT A point looking up the river. A collection of Mexican 
 
 war trophies. 
 TRIG. Trigonometry. 
 
 TURN BACK One who remains in the same class another year. 
 TUBS The fattest man in the class. 
 
 UNPOLICED A room not properly arranged at inspection. 
 WHEATON IT To be excused from duty by the Surgeon. 
 YEARLING A Cadet who has finished his first year. 
 YEARLING CAMP Camp during first year. 
 YANKING Usually applied to "yanking a Plebe" out of his bed at night, 
 
 during camp. 
 YOUNGSTER. (See plebe.) 
 
SQUIBS FROM THE "SKINBOOK" IN CAMP AND BARRACKS. 
 
 CADET BRIDLE. 
 
 BARREL. 
 
 *BELL BUTTONS. 
 
 BUGLE. 
 
 BULLET. 
 CARELESS. 
 
 CARTRIDGE. 
 CHEEK. 
 
 *DlVIDERS. 
 
 FEM. 
 FIZZLE. 
 
 FLINT. 
 
 FRIGID. 
 
 FURLOUGHMAN. 
 
 GRIND. 
 HIVE. 
 
 JUDGE. 
 
 Using disrespectful and insubordinate language to Cadet 
 
 Officer, while in execution of his duty, 5 and 5.30 P.M. 
 Threatening a Cadet Officer for an act done in execution 
 
 of duty. 
 Permitting and requiring a ntw Cadet to sweep out his room 
 
 and perform menial services, 5 and 7 A ,M. 
 Not knowing right hand from left. 
 Not depressing toes going to breakfast. 
 Inattention at squad drill, 5.30 to 6.30 P.M. 
 Coming from " right shoulder arms" to "present arms," 
 
 when saluting Officer of the Day, 4 and 4.30 P.M. 
 Persistently swinging arms at drill, P.M., after having been 
 
 several times reported for same. 
 Unauthorized rifle practice in hall of barracks. 
 Asking an old Cadet to perform menial service for him, 
 
 9.45 and 10 P.M. 
 
 Washbowl not inverted at troop parade. 
 Collar to wide in Chapel during divine service, 10. 30 A. M and 
 
 12 M. 
 
 Squealing in ranks at tattoo roll-call. 
 Gross carelessness: dropping gun marching in relief, 9.40 
 
 tO IO A.M. 
 
 Submitling explanation with one word misspelled. 
 
 Going between guns of battery in front of camp, 3.50 P.M. 
 
 Passing between Squad and Corporal, 2.30 P.M. 
 
 Cap on side of head, 10 to 10.30 P.M. 
 
 Requesting a new Cadet to help to straighten it. 
 
 Laughing in tent after taps. 
 
 Firing brickbats from Reveille gun, when Officer of the 
 
 Guard. 
 
 Button of overcoat unbuttoned at undress parade. 
 Wearing dirty collar at drill, A.M. 
 
 JUNE BUG. 
 
 LATES. 
 
 MENAGERIE. 
 
 NATTY. 
 
 PHIL. 
 
 RAMROD. 
 
 RAZOR. 
 
 R.fi-.ffKLESS. 
 
 REVEILLE'S. 
 
 ROCKS. 
 
 SEP. 
 
 SHOESTRING. 
 SKINNEY. 
 
 SMIRK. 
 
 SNARL. 
 
 SWYKHAMMER. 
 TAN BARK. 
 TRAIL. 
 
 TRIGGER. 
 
 TUBS. 
 WORTHLESS. 
 
 YEARLING. 
 
 GOUGER. 
 
 BAYONET. 
 IMMORTAL. 
 
 Not conversant with countersign, 10 and 10.30 P.M. 
 
 Yawning in ranks at Reveille, 5 A.M. 
 
 Not removing dirt from under bucket at police, 4 P.M. 
 
 Extravagant wash at laundry. 
 
 Bayonet button dirty at guard mounting. 
 
 Gazing about in ranks, 5.30 A.M. 
 
 Very long whiskers at troop parade. 
 
 Harassing new Cadet, 11.30 P.M. 
 
 Looking at feet at breakfast roll-call. 
 
 Wearing hop gloves at troop parade. 
 
 Not executing "left forward, fours left" properly marching 
 
 to dinner. 
 
 Shoes not tied at Reveille. 
 Boots not properly dusted at inspection of quarters, 9.30 
 
 and 10 A.M. 
 
 Smiling in ranks coming from breakfast. 
 Explanation blotted, and not correctly stated. 
 Odor of apples in quarters, A.M. 
 Same at same. 
 Dust on collar at tattoo. 
 Not keeping dressed inarching to church. 
 Do/ing in church. 
 
 Dust on vizor of cap at troop parade. 
 Falling out to fix tent at troop parade. 
 Shoes not blacked, and pants dirty at retreat parade. 
 Explanation not properly endorsed. 
 Not removing wash from "A" Co. stoop, 1.30 to 2 P.M. 
 
 ACADEMICAL DELINQUENCIES. 
 Not standing attention while reciting in Math. 
 Room not swept at Police inspection. 
 Not properly prepared in lesson in Law. 
 
 I 3 2 
 
 * Explanation of offence, see following page. 
 
EXPLANATIONS : 
 
 [EXACT COPY.] 
 
 WEST POINT, N. Y., August , 187 . 
 
 OFFENCE. Permitting and requiring a new Cadet to sweep out his room and perform manual services, 5 and 7 A.M. 
 
 EXPLANATION. I would respectfully state, that after careful thought and speaking with my room-mate, I think that I did ask 
 a new Cadet to help me in fixing up my room to the extent of sweeping out part of it. The request was made the same 
 as I would have asked a classmate, and complied with without any reluctance or words at all, and I thought nothing of it 
 then and had entirely forgotten it. Nothing else was done or required of any Cadet that could possibly be construed as 
 
 above. 
 
 Respectfully submitted, 
 To "BELL BUTTONS," 
 
 Lieut. -Col. E. UPTON, Cadet Corp'l, 3d Class, "A" Co. 
 
 Commandant Corps of Cadets. 
 
 (Word manual should read menial ; mistake of the clerk.) 
 
 (Cadet Corp'l " BELL BUTTONS" was reduced to the ranks for this ofence.J 
 
 [EXACT coi'V.l 
 
 WEST POINT, N. Y., Dec. , 187 . 
 OFFENCE. Collar too wide in chapel, during divine service, 10.30 A.M. and 12 M. 
 
 EXPLANATION. I would respectfully state that the collar was no wider " in the chapel " than anywhere else. 
 
 It was my intention to give it the proper width all round, but I had no very accurate instruments. It was clean, and 
 I thought this would be principally noticed during divine service. 
 
 Respectfully submitted, 
 
 " DIVIDERS," 
 
 TO Cadet Pr'vt, " B " Co., 3d Class. 
 
 Lieut.-Col. E. UPTON, 
 
 Commandant Corps of Cadets. 
 
 ( The above report was removed. ) 
 
 '33 
 
INFORMATION RELATIVE TO THE 
 
 APPOINTMENT AND ADMISSION OF CADETS. 
 
 (From the Official Register of the U. S. M. A.) 
 
 EACH Congressional District and Territory also the District of Columbia 
 is entitled to have one Cadet at the Academy. Ten are also annually ap 
 pointed at large. The appointments (excepting those at large) are made by 
 the Secretary of War at the request of the Representative, or Delegate, in Con 
 gress from the District, or Territory; and the person appointed must be an 
 actual resident of the District, or Territory, from which the appointment is made. 
 The appointments at large are specially conferred by the President of the United 
 States. 
 
 Applications can at any time be made by letter to the Secretary of War, to 
 have the name of the applicant placed upon the register, that it may be furnished 
 to the proper Representative, or Delegate, when a vacancy occurs. The appli 
 cation must exhibit the full name, exact age, and permanent abode of the ap 
 plicant, with the number of the Congressional District in which his residence is 
 situated. No person who has served in any capacity in the military or naval 
 service of the so-called Confederate States can be appointed. 
 
 When practicable, appointments are made one year in advance of the date 
 of admission. 
 
 The age for the admission of Cadets to the Academy is between seventeen 
 and twenty-two years ; but any person who served honorably and faithfully not 
 less than one year as an officer or enlisted man in either the regular or volunteer 
 service, in the late war for the suppression of the rebellion, is eligible for ap- 
 
 '34 
 
 pointment up to the age of twenty-four years. Candidates must be at least five 
 feet in height, and free from any infectious or immoral disorder, and generally, 
 from any deformity, disease, or infirmity, which may render them unfit for mili 
 tary service. They must be well versed in reading, in writing, including or 
 thography, and in arithmetic, have a knowledge of the elements of English 
 grammar, of descriptive geography, particularly of our own country, and of 
 the history of the United States. A thorough knowledge of the elementary 
 studies will be much more beneficial to the applicant than a proficiency in ]he 
 higher branches, upon which he is not examined. 
 
 Every candidate is, soon after his arrival at West Point, subjected to a rigid 
 physical examination by an experienced Medical Board, and if there is found 
 to exist in him any of the following causes of disqualification, to such a degree 
 as would immediatelj', or at no very distant period, impair his efficiency, he is 
 rejected : 
 
 1. Feeble constitution and muscular tenuity ; unsound health from whatever 
 cause; indications of former disease ; glandular swellings, or other symptoms 
 of scrofula. 
 
 2. Chronic cutaneous affections, especially of the scalp. 
 
 3. Severe injuries of the bones of the head ; convulsions. 
 
 4. Impaired vision, from whatever cause ; inflammatory affections of the eye 
 lids ; immobility or irregularity of the iris ; fistula lachrymalis, etc. 
 
5- Deafness; copious discharge from the tars. 
 
 6. Loss of many teeth, or the teeth generally unsound. 
 
 7. Impediment of speech. 
 
 8. Want of due capacity of the chest, and any other indication of a liability 
 to a pulmonic disease. 
 
 9. Impaired or inadequate efficiency of one or both of the superior extremi 
 ties, on account of fractures, especially of the clavicle, contraction of a joint, 
 extenuation, deformity, etc. 
 
 10. An unusual excurvature or incurvature of the spine. 
 
 11. Hernia. 
 
 12. A varicose state of the veins of the scrotum or spermatic cord (when 
 large), sarcocele, hydrocele, hemorrhoids, fistulas. 
 
 13. Impaired or inadequate efficiency of one or both of the inferior extremities 
 on account of varicose veins, fractures, malformation (flat feet, etc.,) lameness, 
 contraction, unequal length, bunions, overlying or supernumerary toes, etc. 
 
 14. Ulcers, or unsound cicatrices of ulcers likely to break out afresh. 
 
 The newly appointed Cadets are then examined by the Academic Board, and 
 those net properly qualified are rejected. Those admitted are required to sign 
 articles binding themselves to serve the United States eight years from the time 
 of their admission into the Academy, unless sooner discharged by competent 
 authority, and do solemnly swear that they will support the Constitution of the 
 United States, and bear true allegiance to the national government. 
 
 Resignations and discharges can be always obtained, except during times of 
 war, or when the services of the full army are required. 
 
 The Cadets are arranged in four distinct classes, corresponding with the four 
 years of study. The Cadets employed on the first year's course constitute the 
 FOURTH CLASS ; those on the second year's course the THIRD CLASS ; those on 
 the third year's course the SECOND CLASS ; and those on the fourth year's course 
 the FIRST CLASS. 
 
 The academic year commences on the 1st of July, on or before which day 
 the result of the examination held in the preceding month is announced. 
 
 During the months of July and August, the Cadets live in camp, engaged 
 only in military duties and exercises, and receiving practical military instruc 
 tion, excepting the third class men, who are then on furlough. 
 
 The academic duties and exercises commence on the ist of September, and 
 continue until about the last of June. Examinations of the several classes are 
 held in January and June, and at the former, such of the new Cadets as are 
 found proficient in studies, and have been correct in conduct, are given the 
 particular standing in their class to which their merits entitle them. After either 
 examination, Cadets found deficient in conduct or studies are discharged from 
 the Academy, unless, for special reasons in each case, the Academic Board 
 should otherwise recommend. Similar examinations are held every January 
 and June during the four years comprising the course of studies. 
 
 These examinations are very thorough, and require from the Cadet a close 
 and persevering attention to study, without evasion or slighting of any part of 
 the course, as no relaxations of any kind can be made by the examiners. 
 
 The pay of a Cadet is $540, per year, to commence with his admission into 
 the Academy, and is sufficient, with proper economy, for his support. No Cadet 
 is permitted to receive money, or any other supplies, from his parents or from 
 any person whomsoever, without the sanction of the Superintendent. 
 
 When a Cadet shall receive a regular degree from the Academie Board, 
 after going through the classes, he is considered as among the candidates for a 
 commission in the Engineers, Ordnance, Artillery, Infantry or Cavalry, accord 
 ing to the duties he may be judged competent to perform. 
 
 A sound body and constitution, suitable preparation, good natural capacity, 
 an aptitude for study, industrious habits, perseverance, an obedient and orderly 
 disposition, and a correct moral deportment, are such essential qualifications 
 that candidates, knowingly deficient in any of these respects, should not, as 
 many do, subject themselves and their friends to the chances of future mortifi 
 cation and disappointment by accepting appointments at the Academy, and 
 entering upon a career which they cannot successfully pursue. 
 
 135 
 
AN HISTORICAL LEAF. 
 
 THE opposite page is an exact fac-simile of a leaf taken from the old register of " Roe's Hotel," 
 now known as the West Point Hotel. Upon this page appear the signatures of several per 
 sons who have since become eminent in the history of our country. 
 
 It is said of General Grant, when he first left his Ohio home, and reported at West Point, 
 on the 29th day of May, 1839, that upon signing his name " U. H. Grant,"* in the Academic 
 Register at the Adjutant's Office, he was informed that there was no appointment for any candi 
 date of that name ; but that there was one for U. S. Grant. 
 
 This mistake in an initial was doubtless due to a misunderstanding on the part of the 
 Congressman of his District in making out the appointment. 
 
 The future General and President replied, in a manner which was probably then as charac 
 teristic as it is at present, that the change of an initial made no particular difference to him. 
 
 His object was to enter the Military Academy as a Cadet. 
 
 * " Ulysses Hiram Grant " was the General's original name. 
 
AUTOGRAPHS now are quite the thing, 
 And sought at fancy prices, 
 
 'Least those that to remembrance bring 
 Great virtues or great vices. 
 
 The names of some indent the rocks 
 High up the Alps sublimely vast ; 
 
 Euphonious ones Smith, Brown, and Cox, 
 And Jones, not least though last. 
 
 While others theirs do carve well up 
 
 On Fame's illusive temple ; 
 And with the gods, as equals, sup, 
 
 The common herd's too simple. 
 
 Tis said there's nothing in a name : 
 
 Still, let us clutch the hope 
 That genius guards the undying fame 
 
 Of Shakespeare, Byron, Pope. 
 
 Yet ask I not their studied wit, 
 But names of soldiers tried ; 
 
 Not like to Keats, "in water writ," 
 But on this leaflet's side. 
 
 I ask thy hand and name, dear boy 
 
 E'er on the sea of life 
 Thou go, that weapon here employ 
 
 Not stained in battle strife ! 
 
 And if Fair Hands perchance consent 
 
 To flourish graceful pens, 
 A Fan is spread, by breezes bent 
 
 Pour autographes des femmes. 
 
 138 
 
MILITARY AUTOGRAPHS. 
 
FOR FAIR HANDS. 
 
IE3I O ZN IE IR, LEE &; CO., 
 
 65 Liberty Street, New York, 
 
 ENG-RA.VERS JIND STATIONERS TO THE JIRMY JLND 
 
 Attention is invited to our facilities for the ENGRAVING OF ORIGINAL DESIGNS, which will be furnished on application, for all kinds of 
 
 Social and Commercial Use. 
 
 LATEST STYLES OF DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN STATIONERY. 
 
 Wedding and Reception Invitations, At Home, Correspondence and Visiting Cards. Note, Letter Paper, and Envelopes stamped from dies 
 
 in elegant colors. Coats of Arms, Crests, Monograms, Initials, and Address Dies. Unique Designs for 
 
 College and Hop Invitations, Orders of Dancing, Programmes, etc. 
 
 Capable Artists are prepared to furnish designs for PRESENTATION PIECES of any nature Cups, Rings, Badges, etc., orders for 
 
 which will be filled in the best manner. 
 
 HHztsTiDS iFiaonvE TDEUE UST.A.'V.A. rj _A_ c .A. ID IE 
 
 is a Companion Book to 
 
 We can scarcely say anything more regarding the favor with which this work has been received, than is expressed in the following 
 
 PRESS NOTICES: 
 
 " One of the brightest and prettiest books of the season is ( Fag Ends.' " 
 New York Graphic. 
 
 41 It collects some forty specimens of congs and other verses of the ( Middies * 
 (and their lady friend*), and accompanies them with humorous illustrations of 
 ' middy ' episodes. The idem is a very clever one." New York Tribune. 
 
 " A more amusing publication of the kind has never gone from the Ameri 
 can press, and too much praise can hardly b given to Messrs. Homer Lee A 
 Co., New York, who bring it out, for the liberal manner in which they have 
 done thetr share of the work. The illustrations are spirited in execution, 
 admirably arranged, and abundant in number." Washington Pott. 
 
 "It is illustrated 
 but solem 
 York Ti\ 
 
 s illustrated in a humorous way, for moat of the verses are anything , 
 emn. The book la handsomely bound, illustrated and printed." Neva \ 
 
 It reflects the spirit of life at the Naval Academy. A my and Navy 
 Journal. 
 
 To naval officers, young and old, the work will prove precious a 
 
 " There are gems of merriment and thought all through it. The etchings j liable in recalling the joyous memories of their Academy life." Co 
 are especially happy in design, and the book is so full of good thing* that it is Advertiser. 
 hard to discriminate." New York Exprt*. 
 
 nd Inval 
 Commercial 
 
 "The illustrations are irreiUtiblv laugh provoking. In fact, all through 
 the volume there are touches whicn would not disgrace Punch. All young 
 ladies who desire to graduate a* Annapolis belles are advised to learn it by 
 heart or technically, to 'bone it.' "WmM*atom Sunday IfrraM. Army and 
 Navy Edition. 
 
 ' From the Navitl Academy at Annapolis, comet * Fag Ends,' salt with its 
 i savour of ocean, happy with its sharp wit, and well spiced with genuine hu 
 mor ; a welcome ami valuable addition to literature ; a model of engraving 
 | and binding, and a charming volume for any library table. Rich with fun, 
 I at times truly poetic, it is, without doubt, as elaborate a work of iu kind as 
 1 any ever published in this country." Acta Colundiana (Columbia College). 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE INVITED.