THE SOLDIER FROM BINGEN.

A Soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,

Mrs. No ton.

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's

tears;

But a comrade stood beside him, while the life-blood ebbed away,
And bent with pitying glance to hear each word he had to say.
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand,
And he said: "I never more shall see my own-my native land!
Take a message and a token to the distant friends of mine,
For I was born at Bingen - at Bingen on the Rhine!

"Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around,

To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done,
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun;
And 'midst the dead and dying were some grown old in wars,
The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars!
But some were young, and suddenly beheld Life's morn decline,—
And one had come from Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine!

"Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage; For my father was a soldier, and even when a child,

My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild; And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,

I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword! And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine, On the cottage wall at Bingen - calm Bingen on the Rhine!

"Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant

tread;

But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die!

And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name

To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame;

And to hang the old sword in its place- (my father's sword and mine),

For the honor of cld Bingen-dear Bingen on the Rhine!

"There's another, not a sister,-in the happy days gone by, You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye; Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning,

Oh! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning.

Tell her the last night of my life (for ere this moon be risen

My body will be out of pain - my soul be out of prison,)
I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen,- fair Bingen on the Rhine!

"I saw the blue Rhine sweep along-I heard or seemed to hear,
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear;
And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill,
The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still,
And her glad blue eyes were on me as we passed with friendly talk
Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk,
And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine,—

But we'll meet no more at Bingen,-loved Bingen on the Rhine!"

His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his gasp was childish weak,

His eyes put on a dying look,—he sighed, and ceased to speak;
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled -
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead!
And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down
On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses strewn!
Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine,
As it shone on distant Bingen- fair Bingen on the Rhine.

THE NATION'S DEAD.

Four hundred thousand men,
The brave-the good-the true,
In tangled wood, in mountain glen,
On battle plain, in prison pen,

Lie dead for me and you!

Four hundred thousand of the brave

Have made our ransomed soil their grave,
For me and you!

Good friend, for me and you!

In many a fevered swamp,

By many a black bayou,

In many a cold and frozen camp,

The weary sentinel ceased his tramp,

And died for me and you!

From Western plain to ocean tide

Are stretched the graves of those who died For me and you!

Good friend, for me and you!

On many a bloody plain

Their ready swords they drew,

And poured their life-blood, like the rain,
A home-a heritage to gain,

To gain for me and you!

Our brothers mustered by our side,

They marched, they fought, and bravely died For me and you!

Good friend, for me and you!

Up many a fortress wall

They charged - those boys in blue 'Mid surging smoke, and volley'd ball The bravest were the first to fall!

To fall for me and you!

These noble men- the nation's pride -
Four hundred thousand men have died
For me and you!

Good friend, for me and you!

In treason's prison-hold

Their martyr spirits grew

To stature like the saint's of old,
While amid agonies untold,

They starved for me and you!
The good, the patient and the tried,
Four hundred thousand men have died
For me and you!

Good friend, for me and you!

A debt we ne'er can pay

To them is justly due,

And to the nation's latest day
Our children's children still shall say,
"They died for me and you!"
Four hundred thousand of the brave

Made this, our ransomed soil, their grave
For me and you!

Good friend, for me and you!

INFLECTIONS.

Inflections are the peculiar slides which the voice takes in pronouncing a letter, syllable, or word.

The Rising Inflection is the upward slide of the voice. It may be indicated by the acute accent (').

The Falling Inflection is the downward slide of the voice. It may be indicated by the grave accent (1).*

The Circumflex or Wave is the union of the rising and falling inflections. It is called Direct when the first interval ascends (λ); Inverted, when the order of the intervals is reversed (v); Equal, when the rising and falling are the same, and Unequal, when they are different. It is called Single when two intervals only are thus joined (▾ or ▲); Double, when another is joined continuously to the second of the single form (\\).

"The use of Inflection is to give significance to speech; it constitutes that part of modulation addressed to the understanding, ranking next to distinct articulation, as the means of rendering consecutive oral expression intelligible. It has, too, a certain effect of local melody,- so to term it,— in the successive clauses of a sentence, without which aid we could not discriminate between the commencement and the completion of a thought addressed to the ear.

...

Propriety of tone, even in the plainest forms of prose reading, is wholly dependent on the right use of inflections. . . In the reading of verse, appropriate inflections are the only means of avoiding the two great evils of monotony and chant."- Russell.

"Words may be considered under three aspects: as representatives of simple thought, as indicative of an enforcing of thought and as expressive of passion. The progress of the voice in speaking (as before stated) is called Melody. The course of melody under the direction of simple thought, is through the interval of a tone in the radical change, with a concrete rise of a tone from each of those radicals. But the portions of discourse representing simple thought are limited; thoughts are to be enforced and passions expressed. The tenor of the simple diatonic melody is therefore often interrupted by an occurrence of wider intervals of the scale both in the concrete and discrete forms."-Rush.

* Should the pupil be unable readily to distinguish between the rising and falling inflections, the following plan may be adopted to overcome the difficulty.

Take for illustration the word "constitution." To exemplify the use of the falling inflection, let the question be asked, "What is the word?". The answer" Constitution "—will inevitably be given with the falling slide of the voice. To secure the use of the rising slide, a direct question, (demanding a positive answer, "yes," or "no"-) may be asked by the pupil; thus, "Is the word 'Constitution'?" The interrogation will be involuntarily made with the rising inflection.

By the term Octave is meant the uninterrupted movement of the voice from any assumed radical place, through the notes of the scale, till it vanishes in the eighth degree above or below that radical place.

The Rising Octave expresses the most forcible degree of interrogation, and of emphasis on a rising interval. It is the appropriate intonation of questions accompanied with contempt, mirth, raillery, and the temper or triumph of peevish or indignant argument.

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Examples.

"My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman ought to be. . . .

"Sir Peter, am I to blame because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet."-SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL. Sheridan.

"Do you deny me justice? Saints of heaven,

He turns from me! Do you deny me justice?

For fifteen years, while in these lands dwelt empire,

The humblest craftsman - the obscurest vassal

The very leper shrinking from the sun,

Though loathed by Charity, might ask for justice!
Not with the fawning tone and crawling mien
Of some I see around you- Courts and Princes
Kneeling for favors; - but erect and loud,
As men who ask man's rights! my liege, my Lord,
Do you refuse me justice-audience even-
In the pale presence of the baffled Murther?

RICHELIEU.

"What? shall we teach our chroniclers henceforth

To write that in five bodies were contained
The sole brave hearts of Ghent! which five defunct,
The heartless town, by brainless counsel led,
Deliver'd up her keys, stript off her robes,
And so with all humility besought

Bulwer.

Her haughty lord that he would scourge her lightly!"

PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE. — Henry Taylor