Laura Secord, the heroine of 1812 Part 20

"O then the exclamations!

The rapid preparations!

The launching of canoes upon the wave!

The signalling and shouting!-- Death and disaster flouting-- The anxious haste, the strife, a human life to save Across the boiling surges, Each man his light bark urges, Though death is in the error of a stroke; And paddling, poising, drifting, O'er the floes the light sh.e.l.l lifting, The gallant fellows reach the whirling pack: And from the frightful danger, They save the worn-out stranger.

And oh, to see the nursling in his arms!

And oh, the pious caring, The sweet and tender faring, From the gentle hands of Marie and Louise!

And the pretty, smiling faces, As the travellers take their places To return again to those who weep their loss.

And the Sergeant's story ending, His head in rev'rence bending, He cried "G.o.d bless for ever all n.o.ble souls like these!"

But cheer on cheer resounded, Till the officers, astounded At their mess, upon their sword-hilts clapped their hands.

And the plaudits rose still higher, When they joined with martial fire, In the cry "G.o.d bless the Twenty-Fourth, and its gallant Sergeant Neill!"

OCTOBER 13TH, 1872.

A PLEA FOR THE VETERANS OF 1812.

Forget not, Canada, the men who gave, In fierce and b.l.o.o.d.y fray, their lives for thine.

Pause thou, Ontario, in thy forward march, And give a tear to those who, long ago, On this day fell upon those Heights where now Their ashes rest beneath memorial pile.

And while those names, BROCK and MACDONELL, wake A throb of emulative grat.i.tude And patriotic fervour in thy breast, Forget not those--"the boys," the nameless ones,-- Who also fought and fell on that October day; Nameless their ashes, but their memories dear!

Remember, too, Those grandsires at thy hearths who linger still; Whose youthful arms then helped to guard thy peace, Thy peace their own. And ere they go to join Their ancient comrades of the hard-won fight, Glad their brave hearts with one applauding cheer In memory of the day. Comfort their age With plenty. Let them find that st.u.r.dy youth, Whose heritage they saved, bows rev'rent head, And lends a strong right arm to ancient men, Whose deeds of patriot prowess deck the silk That waves so proudly from the nation's towers.

LOYAL.

"The Loyalists having sacrificed their property to their politics, were generally poor, and had to work hard and suffer many privations before they could reap crops to support their families. In those early days there were no merchants, no bakeries, no butchers' shop's, no medical men to relieve the fevered brain or soothe a mother's aching heart, no public house, no minister to console the dying or bury the dead, no means of instruction for the young; all was bush, hard labour and pinching privation for the present, and long toil for the rising generations."

REV. G. A. ANDERSON, _Protestant Chaplain to the Reformatory, Penetanguishene_.

O Ye, who with your blood and sweat Watered the furrows of this land,-- See where upon a nation's brow In honour's front, ye proudly stand!

Who for her pride abased your own, And gladly on her altar laid All bounty of the older world, All memories that your glory made.

And to her service bowed your strength, Took labour for your shield and crest; See where upon a nation's brow Her diadem, ye proudly test!

ON QUEENSTON HEIGHTS.

I stood on Queenston Heights; And as I gazed from tomb to cenotaph, From cenotaph to tomb, adown and up, My heart grew full, much moved with many thoughts.

At length I cried: "O robed with honour and with glory crowned, Tell me again the story of yon pile."

And straight the ancient, shuddering cedars wept, The solemn junipers indued their pall, The moaning wind crept through the trembling oaks And, shrieking, fled. Strange clamour filled the air; The steepy hill shook with the rush of arms; Around me rolled the tide of sudden war.

The booming guns pealed forth their dreadful knell; Musketry rattled; shouts, cries, groans, were heard; Men met as foes, and deadly strife ensued.

From side to side the surging combat rolled, And as it rolled, pa.s.sed from my ken.

A silence! On the hill an alien flag Flies flaunting in the wind, mocking the gun.

Dark forms pour o'er the heights, and Britain's day Broods dark.

But hark! a ringing cheer peals up the height Once more the battle's tide bursts on my view.

Brock to the rescue! Down goes the alien flag!

Back, back the dark battalions fall. On, on The "Tigers" come. Down pours the rattling shot From out the verdant grove, like sheets of hail.

Up, up they press, York volunteers and all.

Aha! the day is ours! See, where the hero comes In conquering might, quick driving all before him!

O brave ensample! O beloved chief!

Who follows thee keeps ever pace with honour.

Shout Victory! Proud victory is ours!

Ours, n.o.ble Brock!

Ours? DEATH'S! _Death wins;_ THE DAY IS HIS.

Ah! shudder still ye darkling cedars, Chant yet your doleful monotone, ye winds; Indue again your grey funereal pall, Ye solemn junipers; for here he fell, And here he lies,--dust; ashes; nothing.

Such tale the hill-side told me, and I wept.

Nay! I wept _not!_ The hot, indignant thoughts That filled my breast burned up the welling tears Ere they had chance to flow, and forward Hate Spake rashly. But calm Reflection Laid her cool hand upon my throbbing brow And whispered, "As up the misty stream The _Norseman_ crept to-day, and signals white Waved kind salutes from yon opposing sh.o.r.e; And as ye peered the dusky vista through, To catch first glimpse of yonder glorious plinth, Yet saw it not till _I_ your glance directed,-- So high it towered above the common plane;-- So, towering over Time, shall Brock e'er stand.-- So, from those banks, shall white-robed Peace e'er smile.

_October 12, 1881_.

NEW ORLEANS, MONROE, MAYOR, APRIL 29, 1862.

THE HAULING DOWN OF THE STATE FLAG FROM OVER THE CITY HALL.

"The crowd flowed in from every direction and filled the street in a compact ma.s.s both above and below the square. They were silent, but angry and threatening. An open way was left in front of the hall, and their force being stationed, Captain Bell and Lieutenant Kantz pa.s.sed across the street, mounted the hall steps and entered the Mayor's parlour. Approaching the Mayor, Captain Bell said: "I have come in obedience to orders to haul down the State flag from this building." ... As soon as the two officers left the room Mr. Monroe also went out. Descending the front steps he walked out into the street, and placed himself immediately in front of the howitzer pointing down St. Charles Street. There, folding his arms, he fixed his eyes upon the gunner who stood, lanyard in hand, ready for action.

Here he remained without once looking up or moving, until the flag had been hauled down by Lieutenant Kantz, and he and Captain Bell reappeared.... As they pa.s.sed out through the Camp Street gate, Mr. Monroe turned towards the hall, and the people, who had hitherto preserved the silence he had asked from them, broke into cheers for their Mayor."

MARION A. BAKER, _in July (1886) Century_.

A n.o.ble man! a man deserving trust.

A man in whom the higher elements Worked freely. A man of dignity; On whom the robes and badge of state sat well Because the majesty of self-control, And all its grace, were his.

I see him now-- Pale with the pallor of a full, proud heart-- Descend those steps and take his imminent place Before the deadly piece, as who should say "'Ware ye! these people are my people; such Their inward heat and mine at this poor deed That scarce we can control our kindled blood.

But should ye mow them down, ye mow me too.

'Ware ye!"

O men for whose dear sake he stood An offering and a hostage; on that scroll Old Chronos doth unfold along the years Are writ in gold names of undaunted Mayors, Pepin and Charlemagne, and Whittington And White. Did not your fathers know them?

And shall not he, your Mayor of 'Sixty-two, Monroe, stand side by side with them?