And lets us reap in joy, seed that was sown in

tears.

Brave heart! true soldier's son; set at thy post,

Deserting not till life itself was lost;

Thou faithful sentinel for others' weal,

Clad in a surer panoply than steel,

A resolute purpose,―sleep, as heroes sleep,—

Slain, but not conquered!

weep,

We thy loss must

And while our sight the mist of sorrow dims,

Feel all these comforting words lie down like

hymns

Hushed after service in cathedral walls;

But proudly on thy name thy country calls,

By thee raised higher than the highest place

Yet won by any of thy ancient race.

Be thy sons like thee! Sadly as I bend

Above the page, I write thy name, lost friend! With a friend's name this brief book did begin, And a friend's name shall end it: names that win

Happy remembrance from the great and good; Names that shall sink not in oblivion's flood,

But with clear music, like a church-bell's chime, Sound through the river's sweep of onward rushing Time!

NOTES.

NOTE 1, page 135, line 11.

"Like her whose Shadow made the soldier's light."

ERY sure I am that the great American poet, LONGFELLOW, would not refuse me permission to append here, in lieu of any note of explanation, his own beautiful lines on Miss Nightingale, alluding to the anecdote soldier pressing his lips to her shadow

SANTA FILOMENA.

From the Atlantic Monthly.

Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought,
Our hearts, in glad surprise,
To higher levels rise.

The tidal wave of deeper souls
Into our inmost being rolls,

And lifts us unawares

Out of all meaner cares.

Honour to those whose words or deeds
Thus help us in our daily needs,

And by their overflow

Raise us from what is low!

Thus thought I, as by night I read
Of the great army of the dead,
The trenches cold and damp,
The starved and frozen camp-

The wounded from the battle-plain,
In dreary hospitals of pain,
The cheerless corridors,
The cold and stony floors.

Lo in that house of misery

A lady with a lamp I see

Pass through the glimmering gloom,

And flit from room to room.

And slow, as in a dream of bliss,
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss
Her shadow, as it falls

Upon the darkening walls.

cr

As if a door in heaven should be
Opened, and then closed suddenly,
The vision came and went,

The light shone and was spent.

On England's annals, through the long
Hereafter of her speech and song,

That light its rays shall cast
From portals of the past.

A lady with a lamp shall stand
In the great history of the land,
A noble type of good,
Heroic womanhood.

Nor even shall be wanting here
The palm, the lily and the spear,
The symbols that of yore
Saint FILOMENA bore.

NOTE 2, page 139, last line.

Sends to far nations noble Garaye's name.”

I extract this note from the work of M. Odorici, which I mentioned in my Introduction:

"Parmi les découvertes heureuses et utiles que M. de la Garaye fit dans ses expériences chimiques, nous citerons particulièrement ce qu'il nommait les sels essentiels, tirés des végétaux et des minéraux