The sharpshooters rattled a sharp tattoo, The singing mausers around him flew. But "Apples" was busy--too busy to care For the instant death and the danger there. Many a parched throat burning hot, Many a victim of Spanish shot, Was blessed that day; ere the fight was won Under the tropical, deadly sun, By the cool drops poured from the water-can Of the dusky lad who was all a man. In the forward trenches, at close of day, Burning with fever, "Finkey" lay. He seemed to think through the long, wet night, He still was out in the raging fight, For once he spoke in his troubled sleep; "I'se comin', Cap., ef my legs'll keep!" Next day--and the next--and the next--he stayed In the trenches dug by the Spaniard's spade, For the sick and wounded could not get back Over the mountainous, muddy track. But the troopers gave what they had to give That the little mascot might stick and live. Over him many a dark face bent, And through it all he was well content-- Well content as a soldier should Who had fought his fight and the foe withstood. Slowly these stern beleaguered men Nursed him back to his strength again, Till one fair day his glad eyes saw A sight that filled him with pride and awe, For there, as he looked on the stronghold down, The flag was hoisted over the town, And none in that host felt a sweeter joy Than "Apples Finkey," the water-boy. --JOHN JEROME ROONEY, in New York Sun. Down at the pond in zero weather, To have a fine skate the girls and boys gather. Even the Baby thinks it a treat, But somehow cannot stay upon his feet. Tom, Tom, the piper's son, Stole a pig and away he run! The pig was eat, And Tom was beat, And Tom went roaring down the street. THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. "I thought, Mr. Allen, when I gave my Bennie to his country, that not a father in all this broad land made so precious a gift--no, not one. The dear boy only slept a minute, just one little minute at his post; I know that was all, for Bennie never dozed over a duty. How prompt and reliable he was! I know he only fell asleep one little second--he was so young and not strong, that boy of mine. Why, he was as tall as I, and only eighteen! And now they shoot him because he was found asleep when doing sentinel duty. "Twenty-four hours," the telegram said, only twenty-fours hours. Where is Bennie now?" "We will hope with his heavenly Father," said Mr. Allen soothingly. "Yes, yes; let us hope; God is very merciful! 'I should be ashamed, father,' Bennie said, 'when I am a man to think I never used this great right arm'--and he held it out proudly before me--'for my country when it needed it. Palsy it, rather than keep it at the plow.' 'Go, then, my boy, and God keep you!' I said. God has kept him, I think, Mr. Allen!" And the farmer repeated these last words slowly, as if in spite of his reason his heart doubted them.