BY PERCY MACKAYE THE TALE OF A GUNNER AT PLATTSBURGH, 1814' village street, Who towered glowing there-bright lips apart, Topped by the slouching store and slim flag- Cap off, and brown hair tousled. With quick pole, Loomed grand as Rome to his expanding soul; Grandly the rhythmic beat smart She felt the room turn dim And seemed she heard, far off, a sound of cherubim Of feet in file and flags and fifes and filing Soothing the sudden pain about her heart. feet, In the naval battle of Plattsburgh the American commander " Macdonough himself worked like a common sailor, in pointing and handling a favorite gun. While bending over to sight it, a round shot cut in two the spanker boom, which fell on his head and struck him senseless for two or three minutes; he then leaped to his feet and continued as before, when a shot took off the head of the captain of the gun crew and drove it in his face with such force as to knock him to the other side of the deck."--From " The Naval War of 1812," by Theodore Roosevelt. How many a lonely hour of after-woe She saw him so ! "Jock!" And once more the white lips murmured "Jock !" Her fingers slipped; the spilling teacup fell And shattered, tinkling-but broke not the spell. His heart began to knock, Jangling the hollow rhythm of the ticking clock. "Mother, it's fight, and men are wanted!" "Well, |