"Whither away, O miller of Dee:

Whither away so late?"

Asked the toll-man old, with cough and sneeze
As he passed the big toll-gate.

But the miller answered him never a word,
Never a word spake he.

He paid his toll and he spurred his horse,
And rode on with his children three.

"He's afraid to tell!" quoth the old toll-man,

'He's ashamed to tell!" quoth he.

"But I'll follow you up and find out where You are going, O miller of Dee!"

The moon was afloat,

Like a golden boat

Nearing the shore of the sky,

When, with cough and wheeze,

And hands on his knees,

The old toll-man passed by.

"Whither away, O toll-man old?

Whither away so fast?"

Cried the milk-maid who stood at the farm-yard bars

When the toll-man old crept past.

The toll-man answered her never a word;

Never a word spake he.

Scant breath had he at the best to chase

After the miller of Dee.

"He won't tell where!"

Said the milk-maid fair,

'But I'll find out!" cried she.

And away from the farm,

With her pail on her arm,

She followed the miller of Dee.

The parson stood in his cap and gown,

Under the old oak-tree.

"And whither away with your pail of milk,
My pretty milk-maid?" said he;

But she hurried on with her brimming pail,
And never a word spake she.

"She won't tell where!" the parson cried.

"It's my duty to know,” said he.

And he followed the maid who followed the man
Who followed the miller of Dee.

After the parson, came his wife,

The sexton he came next.

After the sexton the constable came,

Troubled and sore perplext.

After the constable, two ragged boys,
To see what the fun would be;
And a little black dog, with only one eye,
Was the last of the nine who, with groan and sigh,
Followed the miller of Dee.

Night had anchored the moon
Not a moment too soon

Under the lee of the sky;

For the wind it blew,

And the rain fell, too,

And the river of Dee ran high.

He forded the river, he climbed the hill,

He and his children three;

But wherever he went they followed him still,
That wicked miller of Dee!

Just as the clock struck the hour of twelve,

The miller reached home again;

And when he dismounted and turned, behold!
Those who had followed him over the wold
Came up in the pouring rain.

Splashed and spattered from head to foot,

Muddy and wet and draggled,

Over the hill and up to the mill,

That wretched company straggled.

They all stopped short; and then out spake
The parson; and thus spake he:

*What do you mean by your conduct to-night,

You wretched miller of Dee?"

"I went for a ride, a nice cool ride,

I and my children three;

For I took them along as I always do,"

Answered the miller of Dee.

"But you, my friends, I would like to know

Why you followed me all the way?"

They looked at each other-"We were out for a walk,
A nice cool walk!" said they.

LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN, 1863-BEUTELSBACH, 1880. GEORGE L. CATLIN.

"Yah, I shpeaks English a leetle; berhaps you shpeaks petter der German."

'No, not a word.”—“ Vell den, Meester, it hardt for to be oonderstandt.

I vos drei yahr in your coontry, I fights in der army mit Sherman

Twentieth Illinois Infantry-fightin' Joe Hooker's commandt."

*So you've seen service in Georgia-a veteran, eh?” “Vell

I tell you

Shust how it vos. I vent ofer in sixty, und landt in Nei

York;

I shpends all mine money, gets sick, und near dies in der Hospiddal Bellevue;

Ven I gets petter I tramps to Cheecago to look for some

vork."

"Pretty young then, I suppose?" "Yah, svansig apout; und der beoples

Vot I goes to for to ask for vork dey have none for to geef; Efery von laughs; but I holds my head up just so high as

der steeples.

Only dot var comes along, or I should have die, I belief.”

"Ever get wounded? I notice you walk rather lame and un、 steady.

Pshaw! got a wooden leg, eh? What battle? At Lookout? don't say!

I was there too-wait a minute, your beer glass is empty already,

Call for another. There! tell me how 'twas you got wounded that day."

"Vell, ve charge ope der side of der mountain, der sky vas all smoky and hazy;

Ve fight all day long in der clouds, but I nefer get hit until

night

But I don't care to say mouch apout it. Der poys called

me foolish and crazy,

Und der doctor vot cut ofe my leg, he say, 'Goot'-dot it

serf me shust right.

"But I dinks I vood do dot thing over again, shust der same, and no matter

Vot any man say."- "Well, let's hear it, you needn't mind talking to me,

For I was there, too, as I tell you, and Lor! how the bullets did patter

Around on that breastwork of boulders that sheltered our Tenth Tennessee."

"So? Dot vos a Tennessee regiment charged upon ours in de efening,

Shust before dark; und dey yell as dey charge, und ve

geef a hurrah;

Der roar of der guns, it vas orful."-"Ah! yes, I remember, 'twas deafening,

The hottest musketry firing that ever our regiment saw." "Und after ve drove dem back, und der night come on, I listen,

Und dinks dot I hear somepody a calling, a voice dot

cried,

'Pring me some vater for Gott's sake'! I saw his pelt-blate

glisten

Oonder der moonlight, on der barapet, shust outside.

"I dhrow my canteen ofer to vare he lie, but he answer Dot his left hand vos gone, und his right arm broke mit a

fall;

Den I shump ofer, und give him to drink, but shust as I ran sir,

Bang! come a sharpshooter's pullet, and dot's how it vosdot is all."

"And they called you foolish and crazy, did they? Him you befriended

The reb, I mean-what became of him? Did he ever come round?"

'Dey tell me he crawl to my side, und call till his strength vos all ended,

Until dey come out mit der stretchers, und carry us from

der ground.

"But pefore ve go, he ask me my name und says he: 'Yacob Keller,

You loses your leg for me, und some day if both of us leefs, I shows you I don't forget,'-but he must have died, de poor

feller.

I nefer hear ofe him since. He don't get vell, I beliefs.

"Only I always got der saddisfachshun ofe knowin'

Shtop! vot's der matter? Here, take some peer, you're vite as a sheet

Shteady! your hand on my shoulder! my gootness! I dinks you vas goin'

To lose your senses avay und fall right off mit der seat.

"Geef me your handts. Vot! der left von gone? Und you vos a soldier

In dot same battle?-a Tennessee regiment?-dot's mighty

queer

Berhaps after all you're-" "Yes, Yacob, God bless you, old fellow, I told you

I'd never-no never forget you. I told you
I'm here."

I'd come, and

TOMMY TAFT.-H. W. BEECHER.

On the first day of March it was, that Tommy Taft had been unquietly sleeping in the forenoon, to make up for a disturbed night. The little noisy clock,-that regarded itself as the essence of a Yankee, and ticked with immense alacrity and struck in the most bustling and emphatic manner,— this industrious and moral clock began striking whir-r-r, one; whir-r-r, two; whir-r-r, three (Tommy jerked his head a little as if something vexed him in his sleep); whir-r-r, four; whir-r-r, five; whir-r-r, six ("Keep still, will ye? let me alone, old woman! confound your medicine"); whir-r-r, seven; whir-r-r, eight ("God in heaven! as sure as I live," said Tommy rubbing his eyes as if to make sure that they saw aright); whir-r-r, nine; whir-r-r, ten! Then holding out his arms with the simplicity of a child, his face fairly glowing with joy, and looking now really noble, he cried: "Barton -my boy, Barton-I knew you wouldn't let the old man die and not help him! I knew it! I knew it!"

After the first surprise of joy subsided, Tommy pushed Barton from the edge of his bed. "Stand up, boy; turn round! There he is! Now I'm all right. Got my pilot aboard; sealed orders; ready to sail the minit the hawser's let go."

After a few words about his return from the West, his health and prospects, the old man returned to the subject