A NIGHTINGALE IN THE CAMP. The men before Sebastopol--a more heroic host There never stood, in hardship and in peril, at their post. The foremost of these warriors 'twas a famous thing to be, And there the first among them goes, if thou hast eyes to see. It's not the good Lord Raglan, nor yet the great Omar, No, nor the fierce Pellisier, though thunderbolts of war. Behold the Soldier who in worth excels above the rest-- That English maiden yonder is our bravest and our best. Brave men, so called, are plentiful, the most of men are brave; So, truly, are the most of dogs, who reck not of a grave: Their valour's not self-sacrifice, but simple want of heed, But courage in a woman's heart is bravery indeed. And there is Mercy's Amazon, within whose little breast Burns the great spirit that has dared the fever and the pest; And she has grappled with grim Death, that maid so bold and meek, There is the mark of battle, fresh upon her pallid cheek. That gallant, gentle lady the camp would fain review, Throughout the Chief exhorts her with such honour as is due. How many a prayer attends on her, how many a blessing greets; How many a glad and grateful eye among that host she meets; Among the world's great women thou hast made thy glorious mark, Men will hereafter mention make of thee with Joan of Arc; And fathers, who relate the Maid of Saragossa's tale, Will tell their little children, too, of Florence Nightingale. A PEEP BEHIND THE SCENES. BY AN OLD FUSILIER. The following will, we trust, prove interesting to all classes of the community:--