The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1879-04-03


lost sight Of the identity Of all local
surroundings and gave myself up
TO the thrilling influence Of the mu
sic with which this heaven inspired
singer was vocalizing the summer
air until il seemed as If all nature
was listening To a purcr aud higher
revelation from the bright Evangel.
Long years ago, the South was
familiar with the air of sad. sweet
melody, and IN almost every South
ern home was heard the simple
refrain;
"Ah, well yet remember
and SO much was the spirit OF the
air ia harmony with the spirit Of
southern plantation life that 1.-THE
Mocking Bird became, as song,
familiar to all ages aud classes of
our people. The child at play
could sing the simple song; the ac-
complished young lady often sang
il To friends H. the brilliantly light
ed parlor; it was equally popular in
the young gentleman's serenade;
ond the happy negro cheered his
toll with "Listen to the Mocking
Bird" as he ploughed among the
cotton and the corn.
Years passed 10y and seemed only
to fix more firmly this favorite air
in the affections of our people. In
deed, it was so fixed Jhat when our
bravest and best were called from
the walks OF peace ~ assume the
soldiers duty and mingle in scenes
IF death upon the battletields of
the South, tho notes o. the "Mock-
ing Bird" found thousand echoes
through the ear piercing afe and
spirit-stirring drum, and many a
young patriot stepped proudly into
the Confederate ranks TO the music
OF this air which carried TO his
heart all the proud, daring and de-
votion that ever thrilled the French
mans soul as he listened TO the
Marsailles.
/ have heard it in the camp and
on the march during the four years
of terrible and unrelenting war;
have heard it at tattoo when our
weary and wounded sank down 10
rest in the midst OF their fallen
comrades; l have heard il At reveil-
lie as those war-worn patriots were
awakened To the duties and dan
gers of another day! But then O,
then, there was something lnspir
ing in the music Of the 'Mocking
Bird" each note OF its trembling
refrain was a wall for the fallen
brave-each thrilling strain was
renewal of the vows OF the faithful
each tone OF sadness was n brok-
en- hope--each joyous peal a renew
ed inspiration leach falling cadence
a mourning dirge Of defeat, and
each rising strain of eXultation was
the bounding spirits pealing hymn
of victory for our armies were con
fronting the foe--valor might yet
triumph-the golden and purple of
Hopes flushing heaven hung over
US, and seemed nearer Then than
Now.
/ still "listen the Moukiug Bird, 4"
but how changed the scenes around
mel Those years have gone by,
but the effects OF the barbaric inva-
sions are seen all over the South
homesteuds estroyed-happy so
cial circles forever broken, and "a
mortal blight over mems minds has
fallen like "A cOntagion. Nature =
voice and Natures face are still the
same, but mournfully sad is the
change in all things else In our
once happy Southern homes. o,
magician of the WiIdWoodl how
wonderfully your nptos translate
the story of the mysteries aud mis-
cries of the past!-in tones still
fresh and musical, and the melody
just the same as IL was In my boy
hood days-only thai the melody
has tor me now a deeper cadence
and an echo OF sadness too sacred
for words.
Yes, sing on, my wildwood friend
Sing your song of ireedoml Let II
cheer the despondent south and
waken music in every heart touch
ed by its mighty magic. Thrill
forth your widest, sweetest and
most exLltaDt notes, and be 10 us n
new Eyangel, repeating again 20
the faithful "COnfcderate" that
character is a grander idea than
existence, and duty Ia a nobler
name than life~ Sing on, ever
glorious type Of the high Southern
heart. Let your matchless music
echo around our desolate homes,
and be ever with us in our loneli-
ness, thou lost Angel Of a ruined
Paradisei