MISCELLANY.
THE MARTYRED FIREMAN.
Fold gently o’er his silent breast The honortd badge he wore in death, And reverent lay to peaceful rest— With tearful eyes and bated breath— The hero who nor shrunk nor quailed When bravest hearts from terror failed, When "Backward!" from the tottering wall— “Back for your lives!” was cried by all. But he nor feared, nor saw, nor heard, He would not hear the backward word ; The path of duty lay before; The fireman's badge he proudly wore Would blush for shame il one should say He shrank f om danger. “ Clear the way ! " Up to the front the hero came To battle face to face with flame. One thought he gave to hearts at home, And eyes that iaughed to see him come; But “ Duty, duty 1 " was the cry— ’Twas duty now to do or die. He dashed the unbidden te.tr away, And foremost led the dangerous fray ; '1 he high wall tottered all aflame : Then, like an avalanche, it came Down thundering to the quaking ground, And built the martyr’s fun. ral mound. A shriek of horror ! Like a flash To wotk his brave companions dash ; With blistering hands they tear the pile— Their hushed hearts beating low the while— And soon with streaming eyes they bear The martyr to the cool night atr, Too late! The fatal work is done I His crown of fame is dearly won ; Crushed by the cruel wall he lies, Stern duty’s latest sacrifice.
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