THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA.

At the terrible fight of Buena Vista, Mexican women were seen hovering near the field of death, for the purpose of giving aid and succor to the wounded. One poor woman was found surrounded by the maimed and suffering of both armies, ministering to the wants of Americans as well as Mexicans with impartial tenderness.

Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away, O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array,

Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or come they

near?

Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we hear.

"Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of battle rolls; Blood is flowing, men are dying; God have mercy on their souls!"

Who is losing? who is winning? "Over hill and over plain, I see but smoke of cannon, clouding through the mountain rain."

Holy Mother, keep our brothers! Look Ximena, look once

more:

"Still I see the fearful whirlwind rolling darkly as before, Bearing on, in strange confusion, friend and foeman, foot and

horse,

Like some wild and troubled torrent sweeping down its mountain course."

Look forth once more, Ximena!

away;

"Ah! the smoke has rolled

And I see the Northern rifles gleaming down the ranks of gray. Hark! that sudden blast of bugles! there the troop of Minon*

wheels;

There the Northern horses thunder, with the cannon at their heels.

"Jesu, pity! how it thickens! now retreat and now advance! Right against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla's charging lance!

Down they go, the brave young riders; horse and foot together fall;

Like a ploughshare in the fallow, through them ploughs the Northern ball.”

Minon (pronounced min-yon) was a Mexican general.

Nearer caine the storm, and nearer, rolling fast and frightful

on.

Speak, Ximena, speak, and tell us who has lost and who has

won:

"Alas! alas! I know not; friend and foe together fall;

O'er the dying rush the living; pray, my sisters, for them all!

"Lo! the wind the smoke is lifting; Blessed Mother, save my brain!

I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from heaps of slain; Now they stagger, blind and bleeding; now they fall, and strive

to rise;

Hasten, sisters, haste and save them, lest they die before our eyes!

"Oh, my heart's love! oh, my dear one! lay thy poor head on my knee;

Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Caust thou hear me? Canst thou see?

Oh, my husband, brave and gentle! oh, my Bernard, look once

more

On the blessed cross before thee! Mercy! mercy! - all is o'er."

Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena; lay thy dear one down to rest;
Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross upon his breast;
Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral masses said;
To-day, thou poor bereaved one, the living ask thy aid.

Close beside her, faintly moaning, fair and young, a soldier lay, Torn with shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow his life

away;

But, as tenderly before him the lorn Ximena knelt,

She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pistol belt.

With a stifled cry of horror straight she turned away her head; With a sad and bitter feeling looked she back upon her dead; But she heard the youth's low moaning, and his struggling breath of pain,

And she raised the cooling water to his parched lips again.

Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed her hand, and faintly smiled;

Was that pitying face his mother's? did she watch beside her

child?

All his stranger words with meaning her woman's heart sup

plied;

With her kiss upon his forehead, "Mother!" murmured he,

and died.

"A bitter curse upon them, poor boy, who led thee forth From some gentle, sad-eyed mother, weeping lonely, in the North!"

Spake the mournful Mexic woman, as she laid him with her dead,

And turned to soothe the living still, and bind the wounds which bled.

Look forth once more, Ximena: "Like a cloud before the wind Rolls the battle down the mountains, leaving blood and death

behind;

Ah! they plead in vain for mercy; in the dust the wounded strive;

Hide your faces, holy angels! O, thou Christ of God, forgive.” Sink, O Night, among thy mountains! let the cool, gray shadows fall;

Dying brothers, fighting demons,-drop thy curtain over all! Through the thickening winter twilight, wide apart the battle rolled,

In its sheath the sabre rested, and the cannon's lips grew cold.

But the noble Mexic women still their holy task pursued, Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn, and faint, and lacking food;

Over weak and suffering brothers with a tender care they hung, And the dying foeman blessed them in a strange and Northern tongue.

Not wholly lost, O Father! is this evil world of ours; Upward, through its blood and ashes, spring afresh the Eder flowers;

From its smoking hell of battle Love and Pity send their prayer, And still thy white-winged angels hover dimly in our air. John G. Whittier.

PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL
ADDRESS.-March 4th, 1865.

FELLOW-COUNTRYMEN:-At this second appearing to take the oath of the presidential office, there is less occa sion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then, a statement, somewhat in detail, of a course to be pursued seemed very fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years, during which public declarations

bavo constantly been called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented.

The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself, and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured. On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. All dreaded it, all sought to avoid it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war, seeking to dissolve the Union, and divide the effects by negotiation..

Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish; and the war came.

One-eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but located in the southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was somehow the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union by war, while government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease even before the conflict itself should cease. looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same bible, and pray to the same God, and each invokes his aid against the other. It may seem strange that any man should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing his bread from the sweat of other men's faces.

Each

But let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayer of both should not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has his own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offences, for

it must needs be that offences come; but woe unto that man by whom the offence cometh."

If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of these offences, which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through his appointed time, he now wills to remove, and that he gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to him?

Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, that the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.

With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on, to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wound, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphans, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

Abraham Lincoln.

TIM TUFF.

Did you ever hear tell of old Timothy Tuff,
And the bargain he struck with Sir Peregrine Muff?
If not, give an ear, and you'll very soon smile
At a very sharp trick of a cunning old file.
Our Tim was a very good fellow, they say,
For making a "deal" in his own sort of way;

So placid in manner, so smooth-tongued and civil, .
That he seldom fell out with the very old “divil.”
No matter whatever the business or job,
Or whether he cheated a beggar or "nob,”