Pope and his Dutchmen, whipped before;
"Bay'nets and grape!" hear Stonewall roar;
Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score!"
In "Stonewall Jackson's way."

Ah! Maiden, wait and watch and yearn
For news of Stonewall's band!
Ah! Widow, read, with eyes that burn,
That ring upon thy hand.

Ah! Wife, sew on, pray on, hope on;
Thy life shall not be all forlorn ;
The foe had better ne'er been born

That gets in "Stonewall's way."

[Southern.]

[During the Civil War this song was frequently sung upon the march by the soldiers of the Army of the Potomac. Except "When this Cruel War is Over" and the doggerel about "John Brown's Body," there was scarcely any song so often heard. The name of the leader was changed, from time to time, to accord with the facts. -EDITOR.]

HE army is gathering from near and from far;

is

the call for

McClellan 's our leader, he 's gallant and strong;
We 'll gird on our armor and be marching along.

Chorus.-Marching along, we are marching along,

Gird on the armor and be marching along
McClellan's our leader, he 's gallant and strong;
For God and our country we are marching along.

The foe is before us in battle array,

But let us not waver, or turn from the way;

The Lord is our strength, and the Union's our song; With courage and faith we are marching along.

Chorus.-Marching along, etc.

Our wives and our children we leave in your care;
We feel you will help them with sorrow to bear:
'T is hard thus to part, but we hope 't won't be long :
We '11 keep up our heart as we 're marching along.

Chorus.-Marching along, etc.

We sigh for our country, we mourn for our dead; For them now our last drop of blood we will shed; Our cause is the right one-our foe 's in the wrong; Then gladly we 'll sing as we 're marching along. Chorus.-Marching along, etc.

The flag of our country is floating on high;
We'll stand by that flag till we conquer or die ;
McClellan 's our leader, he 's gallant and strong;
We 'll gird on our armor and be marching along.
Chorus.-Marching along, etc.

Vol. II.

[Captain Latané, of Stuart's Confederate cavalry was killed during the Pamunkey expedition in 1862. He was buried by a company of women, one of whom read the service for the dead, while a little girl strewed flowers on the grave.-EDITOR.]

HE combat raged not long, but ours the day;

THE

us

And, through the hosts that compassed us around,

Our little band rode proudly on its way,

Leaving one gallant comrade, glory-crowned,
Unburied on the field he died to gain-

Single of all his men, amid the hostile slain.

One moment on the battle's edge he stood-
Hope's halo, like a helmet, round his hair;
The next beheld him, dabbled in his blood,
Prostrate in death—and yet, in death how fair!
Even thus he passed through the red gates of strife,
From earthly crowns and palms, to an immortal life.

A brother bore his body from the field,
And gave it unto strangers' hands, that closed
The calm blue eyes, on earth forever sealed,
And tenderly the slender limbs composed:
Strangers, yet sisters, who, with Mary's love,
Sat by the open tomb, and, weeping, looked above.

A little child strewed roses on his bier-
Pale roses, not more stainless than his soul,
Nor yet more fragrant than his life sincere,

That blossomed with good actions-brief, but whole;
The aged matron and the faithful slave

Approached with reverent feet the hero's lowly grave.

No man of God might say the burial rite
Above the "rebel "-thus declared the foe
That blanched before him in the deadly fight;
But woman's voice, with accents soft and low,
Trembling with pity-touched with pathos-read
Over his hallowed dust the ritual for the dead.

"T is sown in weakness, it is raised in power!"
Softly the promise floated on the air,

While the low breathings of the sunset hour
Came back responsive to the mourner's prayer.

Gently they laid him underneath the sod,

And left him with his fame, his country, and his God!