of triumph, has set to rise no more
O'er the quiet waters of Lake Lanao's shores."

It is now January 1, 1903, and the Moro campaign is drawn to a
successful and favorable close, and "Old Glory" of fair "Columbia" is
now unfurled to the gentle touch of the oriental zephyrs on the
hill-tops of Mindanao, for all time to come.

The Trumpeter's "Last Call" at Fort Maciu.

(By John J. Reidy.)

Bleeding, sore, and wounded, and by my foes surrounded,
The Trumpet once I sounded, no longer can be heard,
For it lies dust-stained and gory, and by the dust corroding,
Where once I blew melodious that call that cowards dread.

No longer in the battles will I call the boys to rally
Through dark ravines or valleys, for freedom and for right,
For my life's blood fast is flowing, and I am left alone
To die and to bemoan my fate at Maciu's fight.

"Stay, Comrade, do not leave me alone upon the field
Where the savage Moros wield their bolos and their spears,
For I may yet survive to see Maciu's tribe--
Like savage cowards--beat a long retreat."

Again I see in fancy the scenes in dear old Boston,
Where in childhood days I wondered free from care and strife;
The unforgotten homestead, surrounded by the foliage.
Where oft my welcomed footsteps have echoed through the night.

My last hour is approaching: death's dismal cloud is o'er me;
But being a true-blue soldier, I murmur not to die.
To-morrow's sun shall find me far from the skirmish line--
So to comrades left behind, I bid a long Good-bye.

THE 27TH INFANTRY.

It is with feelings of pride and national patriotism we have watched
through many a stormy year the steady growth and accomplishments of our
immortal Army, whose splendid display of true valor and military
discipline has attracted the attention and well-deserved admiration of
all nations through the universe, whether exhibited on the expansive
parade ground, under the balmy, azure blue skies of our Western
Continent, of perpetual freedom, or on the far away "Eastern Isles,"
under the warm rays of the tropical sun, where many a true and
stout-hearted son of "Fair Columbia" has sacrificed his young life for
his country's cause. And as we look back to the long misty vale of
tumbled years, in silent perusal and contemplation of the pages of our
nation's history, we cannot help being for the moment awestruck,