Nicolas Poussin (b. 1594, d. 1665) was a French painter, who became one of the most remarkable artists of his age.  His fame chiefly arises from his historical and mythological paintings.

LXXXIII.  CALLING THE ROLL.

1.  “Corporal green!” the orderly cried;
     “Here!” was the answer, loud and clear,
     From the lips of a soldier standing near;
   And “here!” was the word the next replied. 
   “Cyrus Drew!” and a silence fell;
     This time no answer followed the call;
     Only his rear man saw him fall,
   Killed or wounded he could not tell.

2.  There they stood in the fading light,
     These men of battle, with grave, dark looks,
     As plain to be read as open books,
   While slowly gathered the shades of night. 
   The fern on the slope was splashed with blood,
     And down in the corn, where the poppies grew,
     Were redder stains than the poppies knew;
   And crimson-dyed was the river’s flood.

3.  For the foe had crossed from the other side
     That day, in the face of a murderous fire
     That swept them down in its terrible ire;
   And their lifeblood went to color the tide. 
   “Herbert Cline!” At the call there came
     Two stalwart soldiers into the line,
     Bearing between them Herbert Cline,
   Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name.

4.  “Ezra Kerr!” and a voice said “here!”
     “Hiram Kerr!” but no man replied: 
   They were brothers, these two; the sad wind sighed,
   And a shudder crept through the cornfield near. 
   “Ephraim Deane!”—­then a soldier spoke: 
     “Deane carried our regiment’s colors,” he said,
     “When our ensign was shot; I left him dead,
   Just after the enemy wavered and broke.

5.  “Close to the roadside his body lies;
     I paused a moment and gave him to drink;
     He murmured his mother’s name, I think;
   And death came with it and closed his eyes.” 
   ’T was a victory—­yes; but it cost us dear;
     For that company’s roll, when called at night,
     Of a hundred men who went into the fight,
   Numbered but twenty that answered “here!”
          
                                        —­Shepherd.

LXXXIV.  TURTLE SOUP.

Charles Frederick Briggs (b. 1804, d. 1877) was born on the island of Nantucket.  When quite young, however, he became a resident of New York City.  In 1845, in conjunction with Edgar A. Poe, he began the publication of the “Broadway Journal;” he was also connected with the “New York Times,” and the “Evening Mirror;” also as editor from 1853 to 1856 with “Putnam’s Magazine.”  Mr. Briggs wrote a few novels, some poetry, and numerous little humorous tales and sketches.  The following selection is from “Working a Passage; or, Life on a Liner,” one of his best stories.