in honorable warfare shall not be raised again, like inquiet ghosts, into the arena of politics, to disturb the peace and prosperity of the Nation. We honor the valor and manliness of the South, and will respect her rights. We demand the same, and no more. On that platform we can stand together, and against the world. The substantial interests of both sections are one; and henceforth their union shall be one and inseparable. In the fraternal emulations of business and the healthful rivalries of honorable politics, we must labor for the purity, power, and glory of the Republic. The old hearthstone is broad enough for all, and our household gods are worthy of our worship. We feel a special tenderness for our native State; but there is a profounder love and a more comprehensive patriotism than this, that throbs in the heart of every loyal American. The State is but a unit of that organic and august whole, our Country; in whose destiny are involved the welfare and power of each member. The bright examples and splendid achievements of the Nation must remain ours to emulate. The whole land is the sepulcher of illustrous men," and their hallowed dust, not less than their works, and their fame, are the common treasure of all. 66 The beacons which we kindle will fade, and the chiseled rock will crumble; but the intellectual and moral life evolved by the freedom of the State will transmit the lineaments of the national spirit, in imperishable forms of thought. When the sculptured marbles, the gorgeous temples, and the noblest monuments which a proud and grateful country can raise shall have completed their short-lived immortality, these will still survive,-the inextinguishable lights of a Christian Commonwealth. THE EAGLE'S SONG BY RICHARD MANSFIELD The lioness whelped, and the sturdy cub The lion whelp sprang from the eyrie nest, Two were the sons that the country bore Where brother for brother had swelled the flood! And now that the two are one again, And the lion cubs twain sing the eagle's song: THEM YANKEE BLANKITS BY W. SMALL Yes, John, I was down thar at Memphis, I was comin' away from Ole Texas, Whar I went, you know, arter the wah- Well, while I was down thar the fever, It didn't take long in the hatchin', Till a hosspitel camp warn't a patchin' I volunteer'd then with the Howards,- The doctor and nurses they wrestled, An' the drugger he poundid an' pestled, 66 I hear'd 'em say that from my bed,An' some cried, "O God! who'll take pity On the dyin' that soon 'ill be dead?" Next day, howsomever, the doctor Come in with a smile on his brow, "Old boy, jest as yit we hain't knocked her," Said he, "but we'll do fer her now!" Fer, yer see, John, them folks ter the Nor'ward Hed hear'd us afore we call'd twice, An' they'd sent us a full cargo forward Of them much needed blankits an' ice! Well, brother, I've been mighty solid An' agin' reconstrucktin' was stolid, Not kearin' fer Kongriss ner law; But, John, I got under that kiver, I tell yer, old boy, thar's er streak in us We may snarl about "niggers an' francheese," The two trees'll unite in the branches THE WARSHIP "DIXIE' BY FRANK L. STANTON They've named a cruiser "Dixie," that's whut the papers say,— An' I hears they're goin' to man her with the boys that wore the gray; Good news! It sorter thrills me, an' makes me want ter be Whar the ban' is playin' "Dixie," an' the Dixie puts ter sea! They've named a cruiser "Dixie." An', fellers, I'll be boun❜ You're goin' ter see some fightin' when the Dixie swings aroun'! |