His native Irish hills ignored,

How quick the ties of birth-place vary, And Carolina claims the sword

That Lathers drew in Tipperary.

Rise up, O pig-skin parchment! rise
Before my hazy mental vision,
And dazzle all our Northern eyes

With doughty Richard's first commission.
Say, was't in Dublin fire brigade,
Or in the green constabulary,

That first great Lathers flashed his blade, And boldly fought for Tipperary?

Choice specimen of Irish brick,

Blood-red with paint of Carolina,
Come forth and save the Union, Dick,
Now splitting up like broken china.
In taming rabid Northern crews,
Be thou our smart Hibernian Rarey;
Employ the sedatives they use

In Charleston and in Tipperary.

When floats on high the traitor flag,
And frothy Keitt proclaims the muster,
Your weapon from its scabbard drag,

And haste to swell the general bluster.

When comes the long predicted fray,
Renew the deeds of Harper's Ferry,
Where heroes talked and ran away,
The way they do in Tipperary.

"Tis sweet to think that when the strength
Of ancient Rome was sadly crackling,
Her threatened liberties at length
Were rescued by a goose's cackling ;
So, when oppressed by cruel fate,

Our strongest hearts at last "feel scary,"
A modern "Greek" may save the State,
And gild the name of Tipperary.

-Punch.

DECEMBER TWENTY-SIXTH, 1910.

A BALLAD OF MAJOR ANDERSON.

BY MRS. J. C. R. DORR.

COME, children, leave your playing, this dark

and stormy night,

Shut fast the rattling window-blinds, and make the fire burn bright;

And hear an old man's story, while loud the fierce winds blow,

Of gallant Major Anderson and fifty years ago.

I was a young man then, boys, but twenty-eight years old,

And all my comrades knew me for a soldier brave and bold;

My eye was bright, my step was firm, I measured six feet two,

And I knew not what it was to shirk when there was work to do.

We were stationed at Fort Moultrie, in Charleston harbor, then,

A brave band, though a small one, of scarcely sixty men;

And day and night we waited for the coming of the foe,

With noble Major Anderson, just fifty years

ago.

Were they French or English, ask you? Oh! neither, neither, child!

We were at peace with other lands, and all the nations smiled

On the Stars and Stripes, wherever they floated, far and free,

And all the foes we had to meet we found this side

the sea.

But even between brothers bitter feuds will sometimes rise,

And 'twas the cloud of civil war that darkened in the skies;

I have not time to tell you how the quarrel first

began,

Or how it grew, till o'er our land the strife like wildfire ran.

I will not use hard words, my boys, for I am old and gray,

And I've learned it is an easy thing for the best to go astray;

Some wrong there was on either part, I do not doubt at all

There are two sides to a quarrel, be it great or be it small!

But yet, when South-Carolina laid her sacrilegious hand

On the altar of a Union that belonged to all the

land;

When she tore our glorious banner down, and trailed it in the dust,

Every patriot's heart and conscience bade him guard the sacred trust.

You scarce believe me, children. Grief and doubt are in your eyes,

Fixed steadily upon me in wonder and surprise; Don't forget to thank our Father, when to-night you kneel to pray,

That an undivided people rule America to-day.

We were stationed at Fort Moultrie, but about a mile away

The battlements of Sumter stood proudly in the

bay;

'Twas by far the best position, as he could not help but know,

Our gallant Major Anderson, just fifty years ago.

Yes, 'twas just after Christmas, fifty years ago tonight;

The sky was calm and cloudless, the moon was large and bright;

At six o'clock the drum beat to call us to parade, And not a man suspected the plan that had been

laid.