Part 9 (2/2)

The fishers stared as the flitting sprite Pa.s.sed their huts in the misty light, Bearing a turret huge and black, And said, ”The old sea serpent's back Carting away, By light of day, Uncle Sam's fort from New York bay.”

Forth from a Southern city's dock Our frigates' strong blockade to mock, Crept a monster of rugged build, The work of crafty hands, well skilled-- Old _Merrimac_, With an iron back Wooden s.h.i.+ps would find hard to crack.

Straight to where the _c.u.mberland_ lay The mail-clad monster made its way; Its deadly prow struck deep and sure, And the hero's fighting days were o'er.

Ah! many the braves Who found their graves With that good s.h.i.+p beneath the waves.

Flushed with success, the victor flew, Furious, the startled squadron through; Sinking, burning, driving ash.o.r.e, Until the Sabbath day was o'er, Resting at night, To renew the fight With vengeful ire by morning's light.

Out of its den it burst anew, When the gray mist the sun broke through, Steaming to where, in clinging sands, The frigate _Minnesota_ stands, A st.u.r.dy foe To overthrow, But in woeful plight to receive a blow.

But see! beneath her bow appears A champion no danger fears; A pigmy craft, that seems to be, To this new lord that rules the sea, Like David of old To Goliath bold-- Youth and giant, by scripture told.

Round the roaring despot playing, With willing spirit helm obeying, Spurning the iron against it hurled, While belching turret rapid whirled, And swift shots seethe With smoky wreathe, Told that the shark was showing his teeth.

The _Monitor_ fought. In grim amaze The Merrimacs upon it gaze, Cowering 'neath the iron hail, Cras.h.i.+ng into their coat of mail, They swore, ”this craft, The devil's shaft, Looked like a cheese box on a raft.”

Hurrah! little giant of '62! Bold Worden with his gallant crew Forces the fight; the day is won; Back to his den the monster's gone, With crippled claws And broken jaws, Defeated in a reckless cause.

Hurrah for the master mind that wrought, With iron hand, this iron thought!

Strength and safety with speed combined, Ericsson's gift to all mankind; To curb abuse, And chains to loose, Hurrah for the _Monitor's_ famous cruise!

GEORGE H. BOKER.

THE NIGHT OF CHANTILLY

IN March, 1862, McClellan set out from Was.h.i.+ngton to capture the Confederate capital. At Yorktown he was held in check for a month by an inferior force of Confederates. It was the last of May before he reached Fair Oaks (Seven Pines), seven miles from Richmond. The Confederates here attacked him, and a furious battle of two days' duration ensued, when the Confederates were driven back. A notable event of this engagement was the appointment of General Robert E. Lee, as commander in chief of the Confederate armies; in place of General Joseph E. Johnston, who was severely wounded.

One of the most conspicuous figures of this battle of Fair Oaks was General Philip Kearney.

In the words of Stedman:--

”When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn:-- He rode down the length of the withering column, His sword waved us on and we answered the sign.”

”Kearney was the bravest man and the most perfect soldier I ever saw,”

said General Scott. ”A man made for the profession of arms,” says Rope.

”In the field he was always ready, always skillful, always brave, always untiring, always hopeful, and always vigilant and alert.”

He distinguished himself in the War with Mexico, and lost an arm while he was leading cavalry troops in close pursuit of the retreating Mexicans, at the battle of Churubusco, when they retreated into the city of San Antonio itself.

Mounted upon his great gray steed, ”Monmouth,” he spurred through a rampart, felling the Mexicans as he went. A thousand arms were raised to strike him, a thousand sabers glistened in the air, when he hurriedly fell back, but too late to escape the wound which necessitated the amputation of his left arm.

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