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But it matters not; when danger
The voices that were dearest, Assails our native land,
We ne'er shall hear them more ; Mark then how quickly faction flies,
Our butchered comrades lie behind,
And Vengeance stalks before.
“Well may we halt our column, And so we proved before the world
On the steep so dearly won ; In the war with Mexico.
Much has been dared, and much is gained, They were martyrs, those who perished But more must yet be done.
For their country's trust and fame; Well may we halt our column, And glorious in the after years
To catch a moment's breath ; Shall be each sainted name.
For the road in front is leading o'er
To the very jaws of Death.
Across that dark morass,
With heavy arches frowning down
Upon the fearful pass; The eldest of the children
And at the giant portal Is a noble, fair-haired boy,
The City takes her stand, And he drinks the words with a willing ear Hurling defiance back upon And a kindling smile of joy ;
The invaders of the land. And his little eyes are widened,
Like a grim and surly watch-dog As at a trumpet's call :
Stares forth cach deep-mouthed gun; "Now tell us of the hottest fight,
And plumes, and helms, and burnished steel And the bravest deed of all."
Are gleaming in the sun.
We have chased the wounded tigress "Ah!" cries the old man, grimly,
To the entrance of her lair; “We had enough to do;
And, mad to battle for her young, For ne'er unstained with native gore
She turns upon us there. The starry banner flew;
And loudly rings the war-cry, But we owed the most to valor,
And wide the flags are cast, And the least to favoring fate,
And Mexico will make this hour At the taking of the Belen Pass,
Her proudest, or her last; And the storming of the Gate.
For all of savage valor,
And all of burning hate,
Are at the Belen Gate.
“He comes, our mighty leader, We paused at Buena Vista,
Along the wasted van; Contreras felt our blow,
There is no heart in all the ranks And at last we saw the distant spires
That does not love that man! In thc Vale of Mexico.
He passes 'mid the columns ;
And it is a glorious sight “Chapultepec is taken!
To see him form them for the fray, Upon her ruined walls
But his brow is dark as night. A huge and smoky canopy,
He is thinking of his brave ones, Like a shroud of honor, falls.
Who sleep the eternal sleep, The bee-like swarms that clustered,
Among the slaughtered enemy, For life and home to strive,
On yonder bloody steep. Are routed from their broken halls
He is thinking of the succors, Or burned within their hive.
That should have come ere now; The guns that woke the morning
Such thoughts may dim the brightest eye, Are dumb beneath our tread,
And cloud the fairest brow, As on we march, in serried files,
But he gazes o'er the causeway, Through a desert of the dead !
And he hears the foeman's cry;
And the old stern look is on his face, “ All faintly in the distance
And the fire is in his eye.
Beneath the General's glance,
With dauntless mien and measured tread Stern grief with triumph blends ;
The lengthened lines advance.
“There comes a blaze of lightning
From gate, and wall, and spire,
A girdle all of fire !
As though the teeming earth
O'er some sulphureous birth! There comes a pattering shower
Of iron down the pass, 'Neath which the solid masonry
Is chipped like broken glass! It was as though the Demons
Had risen 'gainst our plan, And brought the guns of hell to bear
Upon the march of man!
“I hear our fellows cheering,
As thongh to rend the skies; And hastily I wipe away
The blood-gouts from my eyes. And I, too, stand uncovered,
And shout with joy elate; For the Stars and Stripes are waving high
Above the Belen Gate!"
“But where the invading army,
That stood so proudly there? Has it all so soon been swept away?
Has it melted into air? No: far beneath the arches,
At the signal of command, Protected by the friendly stone,
Behold each little band.
No time to pause or doubt!
Bespeak the storm without.
We can count their fierce array, The bayonet now must do its part,
And end the fearful fray.
" "Charge!' and we break from cover,
With the panther's spring and yell! Cannon and musket from the gate
Peal back the challenge well. And now a bullet strikes me,
And I stagger to my knee; While past me rush, in hcadlong race,
The champions of the free.
Although with failing breath;
So far, and miss the death?
In its darkest battle-shroud, Save where yon living line of fire
Lights up the murky cloud; And there our gallant fellows
Are raging in the strife, Before that stern and dangerous Gate,
Whose toll is human life!
Upon a midnight shore,
And a wall of rock before !
A SUMMER CRUISE IN SEARCH OF
AN APPETITE. go fishing, I was advised, would be an ex
cellent way to recover my vigor of mind and body, my wonted healthy color, and, better yet, my appetite.
"Not down the Bay," urged my adviser ; nor down by Long Island's sea-girt shore; nor off Newport; nor along the Jersey shore, my dear fellow! That would be taking the medicinc homeopathically, and in your case it won't work so.
You want to take a real unmistakable nauseating allopathic dose."
“Having made out your prescription, Şir," I returned, “Will you be pleased to point out the druggist who will fill it up nicely ?"
Whereupon Jack opened Volume I. of Mr. Colton's Folio Atlas, turned to Map No. 12, and pointed out to me there a long narrow neck of land, labeled “Cape Cod." Running his finger past the outside, or more properly the eastern side of this land, he permitted it to rest at a little dot.
“All this,” said he, very gravely, “is called the south shore. Each of these · dots' I take to be immense drug storcs, fitted up with medicines precisely suited to dyspeptics, and others worn-out by the routine and bustle of city life. This dot on which I have my finger is called Harwich. There you will find, if you go with my prescription, the ready means to fill it. The cure is sure; the time required short ; the medicine, although nauseous at first, not altogether disagrecable. In short, you had better go."
And, accordingly, I went.
I ought to mention that, besides the prescription (which read simply “bearer is advised to take one cruise in a mackerel catcher"), Master Jack furnished me with a note of introduction to a gentleman who would-so my worthy friend assured me—be but too happy to administer the dose.
So one hot day, last month, I dropped down on the Cape, and walked down upon a fish wharf with a new-found friend, to talk over my projected curative trip.
Well,” said this worthy, surveying somewhat quizzically my pale face, delicate hands, and general unseaman-like appearance, “ Well"
- it was spoken with the rising inflection'you don't look a good deal like a fisherman; that's a fact."
"Don't criticise my looks, but help me to make out a list of such articles as I need, to give me at least the appearance of a mackerel catcher," was the reply.
So we sat down upon two fish-barrels, I with
“I see our gallant chieftain
In the hottest of the fire ;
Like children 'round their sire;
Still calling on his men: And now the hot blood from my wound
Has blinded me again.
memorandum book and pencil in hand, he with catcher from Provincetown bound over to a bait-knife and a piece of soft pine. And by Cape Ann. We immediately hauled about, and the time the pine was whittled into shavings, followed suit. The wind blew heavily from the following items were written in my book: east-southeast. A heavy sea rolled in from the
Imprimis” (which means “first and fore- Atlantic. Dense clouds swept rapidly to the most,' said I, explanatorily to my friend, who westward. A thick fog, with occasional spirts looked jealously over my shoulder to see that of rain, added materially to the discomfort of nanght of his suggestions was omitted)—" Im- the day. After a four hours' run we were glad primis, then, a complete suit of waterproof oiled enough to get in behind East Point light." clothing, consisting of sou'wester, jacket, and I have to chronicle the fact that up to this trowsers.
time I was not sea-sick. We did not, however, 66 Two blue flannel shirts.
reach our harbor any too soon. I was laboring “ Two pairs of thick woolen trowsers. under the premonitory symptoms ere we got “One pea-jacket, of approved shortness in into smooth water, and the captain declared, tail and sleeves.
with a grin, that I “looked rather blue about “One pair of fish-boots.
the gills”—a figurative expression, by which is “One sheepskin skull-cap (wool inside). to be understood that my countenance rather And an indefinite number of woolen socks, faithfully mirrored the commotion of my “inmittens, comfortables, undervests, and other nards." comforters of the outer man.
Ere we were safely anchored it was blowing “Next, three double mackerel lines (equal a whole gale outside, and the consequent heavy to six lines); a quantity of hooks of various sea in the bay produced no little swell even in sizes; a file to sharpen hooks ; a pair of 'gib- the snug nook where we were moored. Has bing' mittens; some pewter for ‘jigs;' and a the reader ever slept in a country garret while round box, in which to preserve such of these the rain was pouring in torrents on the roof articles as were not for immediate use." above his head? Has he ever, when attired
“There,” said he, who had officiated as Sol- in his "Sunday-go-to-meeting" suit, run for omon extraordinary on this occasion, “ if you dear life from an approaching shower, and, with procure that outfit you need fear neither storm, a huge gulping laugh of joy, jumped into the cold, nor wet, and if you work yourself smartly open door-way, just as the great premonitory will no doubt catch a share of mackerel.” drops began to splash upon the grass ? Has he
So with an unbounded faith in my friend ever lounged upon a dry and sunny spot, on a and my oil-clothes, I ventured to face for a porch looking south, during a general thaw, week or two the discomforts incident to life on when “nature" seemed a compound of iceboard a schooner of 70 tons, cruising along the water and mud? If so, he can form some faint American coast during the first month in sum- idea of the feelings with which this writer, snugly mer.
stowed away in a berth six feet by two and a Fancy me on board : my “things” bestowed half, in a cuddy-hole about big enough for a in a berth in the dog-hole called by courtesy the good sized Newfoundland dog, but accommoforecastle, myself in woolens, working manfully dating (?) four full-sized fishermen and their at the windlass.
boots, listened to the gale which roared overWe were shortly under weigh. And here head all night. commences my journal of the trip, with the At six o'clock the following morning it was following entry : “Sitting upon the heel of the raining and blowing more persistently than ever. bowsprit, out of reach of the horrible smells The forecastle, which was in form a triangle with which the little vessel is infested, trying having a base of five feet, with six feet sides, to reason myself into the belief that I am enter-contained, besides four berths, part of the foreing upon a very romantic adventure, a heavy mast, a table, seats, lockers, and a mediumshower of spray came over the bow, completely sized cooking stove, with all the appurtenances drenching me; to the intense amusement of thereunto belonging. In this stove the cook sundry villainous boys, and my own unmitigated built up a roaring fire about half past four A.M. disgustthe last not much relieved by the cap- The heat at first added to the comfort of us tain's comforting assurance that it is all clean sleepers; then caused us to throw off coverings;
then to divest ourselves of shirts and trowsers The Happy-go-lucky was “off Chatham" by (the fisherman retires to rest fully accoutred for three P.m., and at ten o'clock was hove-to off the next day's operations); and, finally, to jump the Highland light, Cape Cod. My journal, in- out of bed, convinced that the deck was the only dited, I fatter myself, in strictly nautical phrase, place of refuge from the cook's persecutions. says : “ Fresh breezes from the eastward during " Turning out" in a dark forecastle is not the night, with a tolerably heavy sea. At five the easiest matter in the world. It was not till A.M., luffed to.
After holding the lines over I had stepped successively into the slop-bucket, the side till our fingers were numb, without into a water puddle, and, finally, into an empty feeling the longed-for twitch, got under way, butter keg, that I at last landed safely on the and steered for Provincetown to make a harbor, dry deck. Boots are the first necessity on as an easterly gale seemed impending. When emerging from the bed-clothes. It is usual, I nearly abreast of Wood End spoke a mackerel believe, to pull these on before getting out of
the berth. But I had used mine for a pillow, | morsel makes you shudder; and you recall, with and could not reach them while in bed, the a sort of inward astonishment, your past dinnerlimited space of my bed-place not permitting table transgressions. Your mouth is full of of any motion save getting out and in.
water. You become dizzy and irritable. The Arrayed in boots, oil-clothes, and sou'wester, captain's best joke-told, too, for your especial I at length made my way up the fore-ladder, look- benefit-seems immeasurably stupid. You woning like a fisherman, and feeling like a mummy der how any one can laugh; and faintly debate of my former self.
Scarce had I reached the with yourself as to the possibility of ever again deck when a gust of rain completely drenched indulging in unseemly levity. Presently the
This first rough welcome over, I smell of fish and potatoes, being cooked for stumped valiantly about, bidding a laughing dinner, assails your olfactories, causing you to defiance to the weather, which had done its groan dolorously with disgust. You begin to worst already.
entertain a vehement desire for vast quantities “Hurrah, boys, we've seen the worst of this of soda water, pepper vinegar, tomato catsup, gale!" says the weatherwise skipper, poking his Worcestershire sauce, and whatever else there head up the companion hatch, but quickly sub- may be, tonic, strengthening and invigorating siding again into his berth.
to the inner man. A boy walking past you About seven o'clock there comes a lull. Short- chewing a piece of raw salted cod, you proly a small speck of blue appears in the eastern nounce him at once a disgusting brute. The heavens-bright promise of better weather. The captain suggests brandy, but upon producing rain still spits spitefully at us, but the breeze the flask a smell at its contents nearly finishes has evidently done its worst. There is yet a you.
Your bowels yearn to be relieved of their struggle between good weather and bad; be- responsibility. tween blue sky and leaden.
But the blue pre Thus far I got. There are but two stages vails, and spreads mightily. The rain ceases; beyond, in sea-sickness; first, the actual castthe wind veers gradually to the westward; the ing up of accounts; and lastly, the wretched desun shines out—dubiously at first, as though bility following thereon. These I escaped. not sure of his predominance—and weather So we tossed, and jumped, and tumbled along; . beaten nature puts on a damp sea-sick smile. passed Thatcher's Island, Portsmouth, the Isles The wind, which has veered half a dozen times of Shoals, and in view of the blue hills of Aguaround the horizon within the last fifteen min- menticus, steering between Boone Island and the utes, blows at last firmly from the west, the sky main land; and about one o'clock A.M. came to is presently cleared of clouds, and the weather anchor in Portland Bay. As the sea did not question is settled for the day.
"go down,” I passed the day upon the main"Guess we'll get under weigh, our folks," hatch, wrapped in a stay-sail, shivering in the says the captain, “after breakfast.” It seems genial sunshine, doing nothing, thinking nolike folly to go out in the face of such a sea as thing, wishing, caring, hoping nothing; as near last night's gale has raised. But "there are a nonentity as a reasonable man can be. Happy mackerel Down East, and the fleet may be he who on such an occasion has pleasant thoughts catching of 'em while we lie here,” remarks and a natural and easily-developed talent for Uncle Veny Baker.
idleness to cheer him on his rolling way. So we sail seaward. Our little vessel is "Save me from my friends!" should be my tossed about at a rate which seems likely to motto, had I life to live over. "If you are tear every thing to pieces. Now she stands al-wise, you will make the cook your friend," was most perpendicularly upon her stern; and again the parting advice of him who acted as my she buries her bow beneath an enormous wave, chief counselor in projecting this fishing cruise. rising from the plunge staggeringly, and dripping Wretched mortal! Pleased with the thought like a half-drowned Newfoundland. Now she of so easily proving my wisdom, I laid in a suprolls over upon one side, then upon the other, ply of cigars and tobacco, with which to prodipping water over the bulwarks at every roll. pitiate the tyrant of the galley. My little venStanding upon deck is almost an impossibility, ture was productive of a friendship so active and even to the old fishermen, who, suiting them- tireless as to nearly put an end to me, its unforselves to circumstances, contentedly lie down tunate object. There is an old proverb conupon the quarter-deck, vowing that “there's cerning the origin of cooks. I venture here to quite a swell on this morning.”
express my firm belief in its truth. Our cook As for me, I bestow myself as nearly as pos- was undoubtedly a direct emissary of Satan, sible to the vessel's centre of gravity-that is to sent to cause poor hungry mortals to peril their say, upon the main-hatch—and await the ap- souls by diverse profanities. I am not a saint; proach of the inevitable ail of green-horns. It in fact, I will own that in my time I have been is not long ere that lethargic feeling creeps over a great sinner. Whether, with truly devilish me, which is the premonitory symptom of sea- penetration, the cook saw in me a more than sickness. I bury my face in my coat-collar, usually impressible subject, or whether his Masand sink into a not unpleasant stupor, rolled ter moved him to seize so favorable an opporabout unresistingly in the vessel's unceasing gy- tunity as this of my prostrate helplessness to rations. Now ensues a general loss of appetite. make sure of his prey-whatever may have been The unwelcome thought of some before relished the motive, I was the unfortunate object of most
persistent persecution on his part. Ever since | master-effort. Expectation was on tiptoe, esthe first dinner on board—which, by-the-way, pecially with the boys, who augured great things passed me by untasted-he had been torturing of the meal which required so much time for his mind for devices by which to tempt my appe- preparation. At last “ Seat ye!” yelled up the tite. No remonstrance however touching, no forecastle-hatch, proclaims that all is ready, and look however appealing, availed to soften his calls our some-time-hungry crew to the longeddetermination to make me swallow-to say eat for repast. would be to use profanely a word hallowed by " Flummadiddle” was the name of the mess many pleasures. At every temptation, whether on which my worthy enemy had laid himself of codtish swimming in pork fat, of bread solid out on this occasion. Flummadiddle is a comand heavy enough to be lead, of tea or coffee pound mixture (one could guess as much from tasting like an infusion of oak leaves and senna, the name), the component parts of which are my stomach only groaned more dolefully. I stale bread, pork fat, molasses, water, cinnacould neither eat nor drink. Water tasting mon, allspice, and cloves. It is a kind of mush, horribly of the pine barrels wherein it was kept, baked in the oven, and placed upon the table potatoes tainted and sticky with the fish in com- hot and brown. It is a holiday mess for fisherpany of which they had been builed, salt beef men, who lick their chops at the very mention and pork salter than Lot's wife of old—what of its uneuphonious name. I should call it a but disgust could these excite in the mind and pudding, whereto hunger is the best and only stomach of a Christian man? Thank fortune! sauce. Poor cook was doomed to disappointafter three days of persistent endeavor the cook ment. My pampered stomach rebelled against owned himself nearly at his wit's end. He "did | Flummadiddle. My portion was passed back not know what to cook for me”-and my heart almost untasted. bounded with delight at his ignorance.
Said Uncle Veny, with a disparaging shrug Having entered Portland at one a.m., we got of bis bent shoulders, “A man that can't relish under weigh again at five. I had partaken of such good grub as that has no taste—that's all;" no food since our departure from Cape Ann, and an opinion in wlich I made haste most heartily by dint of carly rising, and reasonable exertions to concur. during the operations of getting up the anchor After dinner we ran into Townshend Harbor. and hoisting the sails, was the possessor of a We found there anchored a collection of fishertolerable appetite for breakfast by the time that men to the number of nearly a hundred- the meal was announced. I descended to the break- fleet-so said our skipper. They had got no fast-table, therefore, with a determination to as- mackerel lately; but, as usual, told great yarns tonish the cook by my gormandizing powers. of fish caught "away Down East, off MountAlas for the frailty of all human calculations! Desert Rock,” by the real, genuine, original At sight of the unctuous table-cloth, whose fleet. Mackerel-catchers like company. “The shining surface was innocent of the purifying feet" is the aim of every vessel on starting from touch of water these many months; of the knives home; and in its movements this fleet is as covered with rust; of the butter, redolent of united as thongh all were under command of fish and onions; of the bread - well, that at one man. If half a dozen of the foremost vesleast was untouched by any fingers save the sels—that is to say, the fastest vessels and smartcook's, which might be supposed clean. So I est fisherm.en-stand in toward a harbor-presbreakfasted on two rolls and a cup of water, to! all the rest follow suit. And after the subdeclining, to the cook's profound surprise, my sidence of a gale the first click of a windlass is modicum of the molasses-sweetened abomina- the signal to several thousand men to "turn tion called coffee.
out and get under weigh.” “The breeze freshening after we got clear of Townshend Harbor is a safe anchorage. We the harbor, the feet, about sixty vessels, stood lay in smooth water, behind a little island at along shorc, toward Townshend Harbor. Wind the head of the Bay, where we were protected fresh from the south’ard, a heavy sea, and no eren from the long, steady swell which prevailfish. No sea-sickness this day.” So reads my ed farther down. As usual in such snug harjournal.
bors, the vessels lay moored in tiers, half a This day witnessed the cook’s cntire and final dozen lashed side to side, and perhaps hanging defeat. Chagrined at his repeated repulses, he by one anchor. devoted the entire forenoon to the study of a After a run ashore, during which I astonished new preparation for dinner. Hot water flew a female Mainite by my inordinate capacity for about, and tin pans rattled ominously, as, in the sweet milk and pumpkin-pie (you see I had dim recesses of his galley, he prepared himself pretty well come to my appetite after all), I got for the contest. Not content to rely upon his out on the bowsprit for a contemplative smoke. own resources, he took into his counsel several Just ahead of us was anchored a Lynn boat, a of the older fishermen, who sat about the cook- beautiful little vessel, of about sixty tons, buting-stove, smoking short pipes, and uttering so perfectly symmetrical was her build-looking opinions worthy of oracular Jack Bunsby him- not more than half that size. She was a thing self.
of beauty-not a faulty line nor an imperfect Dinner was kept back till half-past one, to curve or sweep about her. Sharp of bow, broad give cook time for the execution of this his of beam, gracefully curving astern, till the beau