Spirit of Jefferson. [volume] (Charles Town, Va. [W. Va.]) 1844-1948, 1894-07-31
All Made Kin.

In Gen, Gordon's recent address
he related in inimitable style the Ia
miliar story of the rival band con-
certs on the picket line in Virginia.
= One evening in April, - he said,
both armies were on dress parade.
A magnificent band on the Union side
played Hail Columbia and Yankee
Doodle, and the whole Federal army
gave a great shout. The same band
coming down the line played the
soul-stIring strains of Dixie, and
this brought from 10000 Southern
throats the hearty shouts of applause.
Then as the twilight deepened into
dusk the band played Home, Sweet
Home. As the notes rolled over the
waters both armies sent to herven a
shout which echoed from the very
stars. What was it that produced
this? 1t was the thought of homes
whose loved ones were talking, or
gathered around the family alter,
we're invoking Gods protection for
the absent soldier boy.''
This incident is told in another
form in the following poem, by John
r. Thompson, writer identified with
the choicest literature of the South,
and is worthy of companionship with
BaYard Taylor's IS Give Us a Song,
the Soldier Cried. 1t merits fur
tler circulation in both sections for
its stirring expression of national
brotherhood:
MUSIC IN CAMP.
Two armies covered hill aud plain
Where Rappahannock's Waters
Ran deeply erimsoned with the stain
OF battles recent slaughters.
The summer clouds lay pitched like tents
In meads of heavenly azure,
And each dread gun of the elements
Slept in It's hid embrazure.
The breeze so softly blew, it made
No forest leaf to quiyer,
And the smoke of the random cannonade
Rolled slowly down the river.
And now. when circllng hills look down
With cannon grimly planted,
Der listiess camp and silent town
The golden sunset slanted.
When on the feryid air there came
A strain, now rich, now tender,
The music seemed itself afiame
With days departing splendor.
A Federal band, which eve and morn
Played measures brave and nimble,
Had juat struck up with flute and horn,
And lively class of cymbal.
Down fiockcd the soldiers to the banks,
TIL. margtncd by its pebbles.
One Wooded shore was blue wits " Yanks,'
Aud one was gray with Rebels"
Then all was still and then the band
With movement light aud tricksy,
Made stream and forest, hill and strand,
Rererberatc with Dlxie.''
Unconscious stream, with burnished glow,
Went proudly DER its pebbles,
But thrilled throughout Its d0epeGt flow
With yelling otthe Rebels.
Again pause, aud then again
The trumpet peeled souorous,
And :" Yankee Doodle" was the strain
Tewhich the shore gave chorous.
The laughing ripple shore%ard flow
To kiss the shining pebbles
Loud shrieked theswarmins Bows In BlaU,
Defiance to the Rebels.
And yet once more the bugle sang
Above the stormy roit;
No shout upon the evening rang
There reigucd holy quiet.
The sad, slow stream. Its noIseless food
Pour'd DER the gllSt'ning pebbles;
All silent now the Yankees stood,
And silent stood the Rebels.
No unresponsiyc soul had heard
That platntive notes appealing,
So deeply +" Home, Sweet Home" had stirred.
The hidden font OF feeling.
OF blue or gray. the soldier sees,
As by the wand of fairy,
The cottage meath the live treces,
The cabin by the prairie.
Or cold or warm. his native Gkles
Bend in their beauty DER him;
Seen thro' the tear mist in his eyea;
His loved ones stand before him.
AS fades the Iris after rain,
In April's fearful weather,
The vision vanished as the srain
And daylight died together.
But memory, walked by music's art.
Expressed in sinplest Numbers,
subdued the sternest Yankees heart,
Made light tie Rebels slumbers.
And fair the form of music shines,
That bright celestria1 creature,
Who still mid Wars embattled lines
Gave this ono touch to Nature.
lYosrs Weekly.
Nearing the Grave.
In old a1a inarn,,+;o. o,,a ,,,..l..,a.. t,......