springing upon his feet he
leaped quicker than lightning upon the back of his foe, and in spite of
every effort to dislodge him, sat there in security and triumph!

With a loud huzza, the main body of the "Cadets" now rushed forward, and
after a feeble resistance, succeeded in overpowering the champion of our
foes.

As a matter of precaution, we blindfolded him with several
handkerchiefs, and led him away in as much state as the Emperor Aurelian
displayed when he carried Zenobia to Rome, a prisoner at his
chariot-wheels.

The fate of the vanquished Billy Goat is soon related. A council of war
decided that he should be taken into a dense pine thicket, there
suspended head downwards, and thrashed _ad libitum_, by the whole army.

The sentence was carried into execution immediately; and though he was
cut down and released after our vengeance was satisfied, I yet owe it to
truth and history to declare, that before a week elapsed, he died of a
broken heart, and was buried by Colonel Averitt with all the honors of
war.

If it be any satisfaction to the curious inquirer, I may add in
conclusion, that the Rev. Mr. Craig avenged his _manes_, by wearing out
a chinquapin apiece on the backs of "Weasel," the captain and officers,
and immediately afterward disbanded the whole army.

[Decoration]

IV.

_FOR AN ALBUM._

When first our father, Adam, sinned
Against the will of Heaven,
And forth from Eden's happy gates
A wanderer was driven,
He paused beside a limpid brook,
That through the garden ran,
And, gazing in its mirrored wave,
Beheld himself--_a man_!

God's holy peace no longer beamed
In brightness from his eye;
But in its depths dark passions blazed,
Like lightnings in the sky.
Young Innocence no longer wreathed
His features with her smile;
But Sin sat there in scorched dismay,
Like some volcanic isle.

No longer radiant beauty shone
Upon his manly brow;
But care had traced deep furrows there,
With stern misfortune's plow.
Joy beamed no longer from his face;
His step was sad and slow;
His heart was heavy with its grief;
His bosom with its woe.

Whilst gazing at his altered form
Within the mirrored brook,
He spied an angel leaning o'er,
With pity in her look.
He turned, distrustful of his sight,
Unwilling to believe,
When, lo! in Heaven