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Ever its torn folds rose and fell

On the loyal winds that loved it well;

And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good-night.

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

Honor to her!--and let a tear

Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
Flag of Freedom and Union wave!

Peace, and order, and beauty, draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;

And ever the stars above look down

On thy stars below at Frederick town!

XXXIII.

CAUSE OF REBELLION.

JOSEPH HOLT-1861.

Whence this revolutionary outbreak? Whence the secret spring of this gigantic conspiracy, which, like some huge boa, had completely coiled itself round the limbs and body of the Republic, before a single hand was lifted to resist it? Strange, and indeed startling, as the announcement must appear when it falls on the ears of the next generation, the national tragedy, in whose shadow we stand to-night, has come upon us because, in November last, John C. Breckinridge was not elected President of the United States, and Abraham Lincoln was. This is the whole story. And I would pray to know, on what John C. Breckinridge fed that he has grown so great, that a republic founded by Washington and cemented by the best blood that ever coursed in human veins, is to be overthrown, because forsooth, he cannot be its President? Had he been chosen, we well know that we should not have heard of this rebellion, for

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the lever with which it is being moved would have been wanting to the hands of the conspirators. Even after his defeat, could it have been guaranteed, beyond all peradventure, that Jeff, Davis or some other kindred spirit, would be the successor of Mr. Lincoln, I presume we hazard nothing in assuming that this atrocious movement against the Government would not have been set on foot. So much for the principle involved in it. This great crime, then, with which we are grappling, sprang from that “sin by which the angels fell”

an unmastered and profligate ambition an ambition that “would rather reign in hell than serve in heaven” that would rather rule supremely over a shattered fragment of the Republic than run the chances of sharing with others the honors of the whole.

XXXIV.

MAKING WAR ON REBELS CONSTITUTIONAL,

J. R. DOOLITTLE -1861.

MR. PRESIDENT, I have heard the Senator from Kentucky to-day, and I have heard him again and again, denounce the President of the United States for the usurpation of unconstitutional power. I undertake to say that without any foundation he makes such a chargé of usurpation of unconstitutional power, unless it be in a mere form. He has not, in substance; and the case I put to the Senator the other day he has not answered, and I defy him to answer. I undertake to say that, as there are fifty thousand men, perhaps, in arms against the United States, in Virginia, within thirty miles of this capital, I, as an individual, though I am not President, though I am clothed with no official anthority, may ask one hundred thousand of my fellow-men to volunteer to go with me, with arms in their hands, to take every one of them, and, if it be necessary, to take their lives. Why do not some of these gentlemen who talk about usurpation and trampling the Constitution under foot, stand up here and answer that position, or forever shut their mouths? I, as an individual, can do all this, though I am not President, and am clothed with no legal authority whatever, simply because I am a loyal citizen of the United States; I have a right to ask one hundred thousand men to volunteer to go with me and capture the whole of the rebels, and if it be necessary to their capture to kill half of them while I am doing it. No man can deny the correctness of the proposition. Away, then, with all this stuff, and this splitting of hairs and pettifogging here, when we are within the very sound of the guns of these traitors and rebels, who threaten to march upon the capital and subjugate the Government.

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When England conquered the Highlands, she held them -- held them until she educated them; and it took a generation. That is just what we have to do with the South ; annihilate the old South, and put a new one there. You do not annihilate a thing by abolishing it. You must supply the vacancy. In the Gospel, when the chambers were swept and garnished, the devils came back, because there were no angels there. And if we should sweep Virginia clean, Jeff. Davis would come back with seven other devils worse than himself, if he could find them, and occupy it, unless you put free institutions there.

Some men say, begin it by exporting the blacks. If you do, you export the very fulcrum of the lever; you export the very best material to begin with. The nation that should shovel down the Alleghanies, and then build them up again, would be a wise nation compared with the one that should export four million blacks, and then import four million of Chinese to take their places. To dig a hole, and then fill it up again, to build a wall for the purpose of beating out your brains against it, would be Shakesperian wisdom compared with such an undertaking. Colonize the blacks! A man might as well colonize his hands; or, when the robber enters his house, he might as well colonize his revolver. What we want is sympathetic national action. Never until we welcome the negro, the foreigner, all races as equals, and, melted together in a common nationality, hurl them all at despotism, will the North deserve triumph, or earn it at the hands of a just God.

But the North will triumph. I hear it. Do you remember that disastrous siege in India, when the Scotch girl raised her head from the pallet of the hospital, and said to the sickening hearts of the English, “ I hear the bagpipes; the Campbells are coming !” And they said, " Jesse, it is delirium." "No, I know it; I heard it far off.” And in an hour the pibroch burst upon their glad ears, and the banner of England floated in triumph over their heads. So I hear in the dim distance the first notes of the jubilee rising from the hearts of the millions. Soon, very soon, you shall hear it at the gates of the citadel, and the stars and stripes shall guarantee liberty forever, from the lakes to the gulf!

X X XVI.

ROLL CALL.

- Corporal Green!” the Orderly cried ;

• Here! was the answer, loud and clear,

From the lips of the soldier who stood near,-
And “Herc !” was the word the next replied.

Cyrus Drew!”—then a silence fell, -
This time no answer followed the call;

Only his rear-man had seen him fall,
Killed or wounded, he could not tell.

There they stood in the failing 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 hill-sides 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.

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 life-blood went to color the tide.

66 Herbert Kline!" At the call there came

Two stalwart soldiers into the line,

Bearing between them this Herbert Kline, Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name.

66 Ezra Kerr! and a voice answered, “ Here!"

66 Hiram Kerr !"_but no man replied.

They were brothers, these two, the sad winds sighed, And a shudder crept through the cornfield near.

** Ephraim Deane !”-then a soldier spoke:

" Deane carried our Regiment’s colors," he said;

" Where our Ensign was shot, I left him dead, Just after the enemy wavered and broke."

• Close to the road-side 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.”

'Twas 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!"

XXX VII.

THE SMACK IN SCHOOL.

W. P. PALMER.

a A District School, not far away

Mid Berkshire hills, one Winter's day,
Was humming with its wonted noise
Of three score mingled girls and boys-

a Narrative; pure voice; unemotional.

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