“We smote the blue column with grape-shot, But it rushed as the wild torrent runs; At the pieces they slew our best gunners, And took in the struggle our guns. We sprang in a rage to retake them, And lost nearly half of our men; Then, baffled and beaten, retreated, And gained our position again. “Ceased their yell, and in spite of our firing They dressed like an arrow their line, Then, standing there moveless a moment, Their eyes flashed with purpose malign, All still as the twilight in summer, No cloud on the sky to deform, [Illustration: THE LAST CHARGE.] Like the lull in the voices of nature Ere wakens the whirlwind and storm. “We had fought them with death-daring spirit, And courage unyielding till then; No man could have forced us to falter, But these were more demons than men. Our ranks had been torn by their bullets, We filled all the gaps they had made; But the pall o that terrible silence The hearts of our boldest dismayed. “Before us no roaring of cannon, Rifle-rattle, or musketry peal; But there on the ocean of battle Surged steady the billow of steel. Fierce we opened our fire on the column, We pierced it with ball here and there; But it swept on in pitiless sternness Till we faltered and fled in despair. “After that all their movements were easy; At their storming Chapultepec fell, And that ended the war—we were beaten: No story is left me to tell. And now they come back to invade us, Though not with the bullet and blade; They are here with their goods on a railway, To conquer the country by trade.” _A TALE OF THE WAR._ The story that follows is, as the old magazines used to say of their tales, “founded on fact.” The foundation is rather slender. Similar incidents have occurred in all wars, ancient and modern; and nothing delights the old soldier more, when peace comes, than to meet a former antagonist, who, as in this instance, has “proved worthy of his steel.” _THE FENCING-MASTER._ You wish to improve yourself? Good! There’s a tool; Let us see of what stuff you are made; and—keep cool. Never hurry. On guard! When I thrust, parry so. Longe! Gracious! Disarmed me! Well, this is a go. “An accident?” Make me think that, if you can. You had better give lessons than take them, young man. Wrist of steel, form of whalebone, keen-eyed, supple, tall— You could manage that cut-and-thrust there on the wall.