THE ROLL-CALL OF HOME.

A soldier came from distant lands, to seek his childhood's home: A gallant boy he marched away, when first he longed to roam With colours flying o'er his head, with music's thrilling strain; But now a saddened, dying man, he wandered home again. He left his love, the village belle, and cried, in careless glee: 'When medals shine upon my breast, a hero's bride thou 'lt be.' To bring his mother laurels back, his youthful heart had yearned; A simple cross, a life of toil, were all that he had earned. Beside the old churchyard there sat, upon a rustic stile, A pretty little village maid, who gave him smile for smile. He asked her news of dear old friends—his dog among the rest— And trem'lous then he slowly asked for those he loved the best. But when his father's, mother's, name she heard him softly say, The merry face grew grave and sad; the bright smile passed away. She told, their son was lost or dead, their hearts' delight and pride; ''Neath yonder yew-tree,' said the maid, 'they're sleeping, side by side.' He asked her of his boyhood's love; a joyous answer came; 'Thou knowest all my friends,' she cried; 'that was my mother's name.' The soldier's face was fraught with grief she could not understand; Yet, with a child's quick sympathy, she placed in his her hand. 'Come home,' she said; but with a kiss, quoth he, 'That may not be; I soon shall reach the only home now left, on earth, for me.' She was his last remaining friend; and thus, life's journey done, He gave her all he had to give—the cross, too dearly won! Bethought the maid, he needs repose as he has come from far; So prayed that he would tell, some day, the story of the war. 'We two will rest a little while, for I am tired,' she said; 'Where daisies grow, beneath the tree, come now and rest thy head.' She led him, gently, to the spot; and sleeping, calmly, there, The mother found them, hand in hand. How different the pair! He was at peace; but in that rest where sorrow ne'er may come. Ah! may the soldier then have gained, in Heaven, a better home. Augusta A. L. Magra.