OUR LOGAN.
Logan is dead!  A star is rent
From out the nation's firmament,
A star of magnitude sublime
With sudden stroke hurled out of time.
When death its richest harvest gleaned
From battle-fields, a charm which screened
His precious life was o'er him thrown;
Death dare not claim him for its own.
Though oft it pierced the coat of mail
Inflicting wounds, it could but fail
To strike the hero's vital part
And stop the glow of that brave heart
Until with softened tread this foe,
So often foiled, now aimed its blow
When home delights and peaceful rest
He shed their charms, supremely blest.
Upon the victor's laureled head,
And children's laugh and joyous tread,
With faithful wife constantly near,
Were richest music to his ear.
It seemed that God had sent the woof
To fill life's web beneath that roof;
But death there found its long-sought chance
And aimed with care its vengeful lance
And laid the warrior at its feet
Who ne'er before had known defeat.
Like savage captors when they spare
Their victim's life with greatest care,
Until before some loved one's eyes
Whose heartstrings break in useless cries,
They glory in their cruel feat
And shout their victory complete.
The soldier's thoughts will turn to-day
To many a bloody battle fray;
The loud hurrah; the foaming steed
Urged forward at his greatest speed,
AS if he knew the lightning's lead
Would be too slow for rider's need;
As when the eagle in his flight
Swoops down upon the prey in sight
Or as the lion from his lair
Sends forth his challenge on the air
And springs to meet the coming foe
And ends the fight with one fell blow;
Leaning forward, as if to aid
The rapid bonds the charger made,
With hat in hand, and long black hair
Streaming though the frighted air,
Rides the leader, whose cheering voice
Makes every soldier's  heart rejoice
And feel, whatever may betide,
They'll follow close their chieftain guide.
His aids are coming in this train,
With faces blanched with fear and pain,
Expecting at each volley's blast
To see their captain fall at last.
This was the signal for the fight;
And Logan in his gallant might
Is cheering on his well-tried corps
'Mid rifles' crash and cannons' roar,
Until the surging waves of war
Have spent their force, and vict'ry's star
From out the cloud of death's grim night
O'er northern banners sheds its light.
Others might plant he battle well,
At distance safe their orders tell.
Command advance, or call retreat,
Or watch for vict'ry, or defeat;
But Logan always led the van,
And asked no more from any man
Than he himself would gladly bear,
And every danger bravely share.
Come, comrades, gather 'round his bier,
Beloved by every volunteer.
He was a friend without a peer,
Who with us shared each hope and fear;
And nothing in his bright career
Is to our mournful heart so dear
As, never ceasing, year by year,
He ever plead the soldier's cause
And sought the boon of righteous laws.
Slow justice answered his demand
And opened wide her gracious hand,
And took beneath her fostering care
The nations's wards and their welfare,
Until the orphan's heart was glad,
And widowhood in mourning clad,
Bowed down in hopeless attitude,
Was made to feel the gratitude.
Of an awakened government,
Saved from rebellion's foul intent,
And now no longer seemed to mock
The needs of those who in the shock
Of years of conflict dared to stand
In brave defense of nation laud.
Farewell, defender of our rights,
This cruel stroke like mildew blights
Our brightest hopes.  In vain our calls
For one on whom they mantle falls.
Our bitter grief is only less,
Than hers on whom this sore distress
Falls like a cloud of dark despair,
Without a rift of promise there.
With her we only look above,
And trust that, through the Father's love,
We'll join again our hero's side,
When tents are pitched beyond the tide.

CALUMET PLACE.
Washington, D. C., March 10, 1887.

Sergt. J. W. TILTON,
     Dear Sir:  Your soul-stirring poem has been awaiting my return from Illinois, hence my delay in thanking you with all my heart for having written it.  IT thrilled me as I read it and I could see, in my fancy, my gallant husband as you have pictured him.
     Why he had to leave us forever when seemingly strong and happy, surrounded by those who were ever ready to minister to him, whether he was in our own hallowed home or abroad among the people who loved him so truly, is one of the mysteries that will never be solved fro me in this life.
     Wising you all happiness and long life, I am,
                                          Respectfully,
                                                     MRS. JOHN A. LOGAN.