By the aid of
sobriety and the calm and cheerful subordination of the true military
character, the health of the Federal army may be equal to its high
mission: and all friends of human freedom, in all lands, must heartily
pray that it may be so.
There is another department of the subject which I propose to treat of
another month: "Health in the Military Hospital."
"THE STORMY PETREL."
Where the gray crags beat back the northern main,
And all around, the ever restless waves,
Like white sea-wolves, howl on the lonely sands,
Clings a low roof, close by the sounding surge.
If, in your summer rambles by the shore,
His spray-tost cottage you may chance espy,
Enter and greet the blind old mariner.
Full sixty winters he has watched beside
The turbulent ocean, with one purpose warmed:
To rescue drowning men. And round the coast--
For so his comrades named him in his youth--
They know him as "The Stormy Petrel" still.
Once he was lightning-swift, and strong; his eyes
Peered through the dark, and far discerned the wreck
Plunged on the reef. Then with bold speed he flew,
The life-boat launched, and dared the smiting rocks.
'T is said by those long dwelling near his door,
That hundreds have been storm-saved by his arm;
That never was he known to sleep, or lag
In-doors, when danger swept the seas.
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