(The Biloxi, a noble tribe of Indians who lived on the Gulf Coast many centuries ago, were defeated in battle and besieged in their last remaining fortress by an unrelenting enemy. Choosing rather to die in the sea than to be captured and enslaved, they marched out of their gate on a moonlit night, singing a death chant, a stately procession of men, women and children, and continued seaward until the waves swallowed them up. Their enemies stood on the shore and watched them, struck with surprise and admiration. The remains of their last fortress is said to be still standing at Biloxi, Miss., and to this day there is heard a weird music which comes in from the Gulf, oftenest on still, moonlit nights, which the natives call “The Last Hymn of the Biloxi.”) Over the sea, the silent sea, Faint is the music that comes to me. Pitifully pealing. Silently stealing. Kissing the waves so tenderly. Starlight above--June--chirrup of crickets-- Fireflies and phantoms of stars in the glow. Corn in the tassel--faint odor of pollen-- Blow! ye soft night winds, our requiem, blow-- Dear land that has known us, no more will ye know. Over the sea, the moonlit sea, Sad is the music that comes to me. Echoing--dying-- Sobbing--sighing-- Song of a race that would ever be free. Death in the land--grim death in the battle-- Death--and worse death--for mother and maid. Bravely we fought, but Fate did not favor-- Sons of Biloxi, ye were never afraid-- In caverns of corals our bones shall be laid. Over the sea, the crooning sea (Weird as the wail of a wraith, to me). Soft as the light dew Falling the night through. Faint as a sea-shell’s lullaby. Moonlight around--mist, mist on the water-- Mist--’tis the drapery of Death on the deep. White-robed we come--babe, mother and maiden-- Priest--warrior--pity us, sweet sea, and keep-- Dear Sea that has nursed us, in thee let us sleep. Into the sea, the soothing sea. Singing, they entered, and died to be free. Now, when the echoing wave Sobs o’er their coral grave. It sings the last hymn of the brave Biloxi. JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE. Testing and Redeeming Soils BY H. ALISON WEBSTER.