And she clambered on the wagon, minding not who all were by, With a laugh of reckless romping in the corner of her eye. Clinging round his brawny neck, she clasped her fingers white and small, And then whispered, "Quick! the letters! thrust them underneath my shawl! Carry back again this package, and be sure that you are spry!" And she sweetly smiled upon him from the corner of her eye. Loud the motley crowd were laughing at the strange, ungirlish freak, And the boy was scared and panting, and so dashed he could not speak; And," Miss, I have good apples," a bolder lad did cry; But she answered, “No, I thank you," from the corner of her eye. With the news of loved ones absent to the dear friends they would greet, Searching them who hungered for them, swift she glided through the street. "There is nothing worth the doing that it does not pay to try," Thought the little black-eyed rebel, with a twinkle in her eye. WILL CARLETON. MOLLY MAGUIRE AT MONMOUTH. June 28, 1778. The battle of Monmouth was indecisive, but the Americans held the field, and the British retreated and remained inactive for the rest of the summer. N the bloody field of Monmouth ON Flashed the guns of Greene and Wayne, Fiercely roared the tide of battle, Thick the sward was heaped with slain. Hessian, horse, and grenadier, In the vanguard, fiercely fighting, Loudly roared his iron cannon, Stood his faithful Irish wife. Of her bold contempt of danger Greene and Lee's Brigades could tell, Every one knew "Captain Molly," And the army loved her well. Surged the roar of battle round them, Swiftly flew the iron hail, Forward dashed a thousand bayonets, From the foeman's foremost columns Mowing down the massed battalions Fast and faster worked the gunner, Soiled with powder, blood, and dust, English bayonets shone before him, Shot and shell around him burst; Still he fought with reckless daring, Stood and manned her long and well, Till at last the gallant fellow Dead-beside his cannon fell. With a bitter cry of sorrow, And a dark and angry frown, Looked that band of gallant patriots At their gunner stricken down. "Fall back, comrades, it is folly Thus to strive against the foe." "No! not so," cried Irish Molly; "We can strike another blow." Quickly leaped she to the cannon, Roared another from the gun; "Boys, hurrah!" cried gallant Molly, "For the flag of Washington." Greene's Brigade, though shorn and shattered, Slain and bleeding half their men, |