3.  Week in, week out, from morn till night,
     You can hear his bellows blow;
   You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
     With measured beat and slow,
   Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
     When the evening sun is low.

4.  And children coming home from school
     Look in at the open door;
   They love to see the flaming forge,
     And hear the bellows roar,
   And catch the burning sparks that fly
     Like chaff from a threshing floor.

5.  He goes on Sunday to the church,
     And sits among his boys;
   He hears the parson pray and preach,
     He hears his daughter’s voice
   Singing in the village choir,
     And it makes his heart rejoice.

6.  It sounds to him like her mother’s voice
     Singing in Paradise! 
   He needs must think of her once more,
     How in the grave she lies;
   And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
     A tear out of his eyes.

7.  Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,
     Onward through life he goes;
   Each morning sees some task begin,
     Each evening sees its close;
   Something attempted, something done,
     Has earned a night’s repose.

8.  Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
     For the lesson thou hast taught! 
   Thus at the flaming forge of life
     Our fortunes must be wrought;
   Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
     Each burning deed and thought! 
                                      —­Longfellow.

XLVII.  THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.

[From a letter to the “London Times,” by a lady, the wife of an officer at Lucknow.]

1.  On every side death stared us in the face; no human skill could avert it any longer.  We saw the moment approach when we must bid farewell to earth, yet without feeling that unutterable horror which must have been experienced by the unhappy victims at Cawnpore.  We were resolved rather to die than to yield, and were fully persuaded that in twenty-four hours all would be over.  The engineer had said so, and all knew the worst.  We women strove to encourage each other, and to perform the light duties which had been assigned to us, such as conveying orders to the batteries, and supplying the men with provisions, especially cups of coffee, which we prepared day and night.

2.  I had gone out to try to make myself useful, in company with Jessie Brown, the wife of a corporal in my husband’s regiment.  Poor Jessie had been in a state of restless excitement all through the siege, and had fallen away visibly within the last few days.  A constant fever consumed her, and her mind wandered occasionally, especially that day, when the recollections of home seemed powerfully present to her.  At last, overcome with fatigue, she lay down on the ground, wrapped up in her plaid.  I sat beside her, promising to awaken her when, as she said, her “father should return from the plowing.”