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But, General," cried the veteran, a flush upon his brow,

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"The very men who fought with us, they say are traitors now: They've torn the flag of Lundy's Lane, our old red, white and


And while a drop of blood is left, I'll show that drop is true.

"I'm not so weak but I can strike, and I've a good old gun,
To get the range of traitors' hearts, and prick them, one by one.
Your Minie rifles and such arms, it ain't worth while to try;
I couldn't get the hang o' them, but I'll keep my powder dry!"

"God bless you, comrade!" said the Chief,-" God bless your loyal heart!

But younger men are in the field, and claim to have a part;
They'll plant our sacred banner firm, in each rebellious town,
And woe, henceforth, to any hand that dares to pull it down!"

"But, General!"-still persisting, the weeping veteran cried, "I'm young enough to follow, so long as you're my guide; And some you know must bite the dust, and that, at least, can I; So, give the young ones place to fight, but me a place to die!

"If they should fire on Pickens, let the colonel in command
Put me upon the rampart with the flag-staff in my hand:
No odds how hot the cannon-smoke, or how the shell may fly,
I'll hold the Stars and Stripes aloft, and hold them till I die!

"I'm ready, General; so you let a post to me be given Where Washington can look at me, as he looks down from heaven. And say to Putnam at his side, or, may be, General Wayne--'There stands old Billy Johnson, who fought at Lundy's Lane!'

"And when the fight is raging hot, before the traitors fly-
When shell and ball are screeching, and bursting in the sky,
If any shot should pierce through me, and lay me on my face,
My soul would go to Washington's and not to Arnold's place!"



Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,

The cluster'd spires of Frederick stand,
Green-wall'd by the hills of Maryland.

Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach tree fruited deep,

Fair as a garden of the Lord,

To the eyes of that famish'd rebel horde,

On that pleasant morn of the early Fall,
When Lee march'd over the mountain wall,

Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town

Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,

Flapp'd in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon look'd down, and saw not one.

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bow'd with her fourscore years and ten;

Bravest of all in Frederick town,

She took up the flag the men haul'd down.

In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.

Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.

Under his slouch'd hat left and right
He glanced; the old flag met his sight.


"Halt!"-the dust-brown ranks stood fast; "Fire!"-out blazed the rifle-blast.

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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 in Frederick town.


WHEN a lady is seen at a party or ball,


· Her eyes vainly turn'd in her fits of conceit,

As she peers at the gentlemen, fancying all

Are enchained by her charms and would kneel at her feet, With each partner coquetting,-to nobody true ;—

I wouldn't give much for her chances: would you?

When an upstart is seen on the flags strutting out,
With his hat cock'd aslant, and a glass in his eye;
And thick clouds of foul smoke he stands puffing about,
As he inwardly says, "what a noble am I,”-

While he twists his moustache for the ladies to view ;
I wouldn't give much for his senses :—would you ?—

When a wife runs about at her neighbors to pry,

Leaving children at home, unprotected to play ;
Till she starts back in haste at the sound of their cry,
And finds they've been fighting while mother's away,
Sugar eaten panes broken-the wind blowing through;
I wouldn't give much for her comfort :—would you?

When a husband is idle, neglecting his work,

In the public-house snarling with quarrelsome knaves; When he gambles with simpletons, drinks like a Turk, While his good wife at home for his poor children slaves; And that home is quite destitute-painful to view; I wouldn't give much for his morals :-would you?




When a boy at his school, lounging over his seat,

Sits rubbing his head, and neglecting his book, While he fumbles his pockets for something to eat,

Yet pretendeth to read when his master may look, Though he boasts to his parents how much he can do ; I wouldn't give much for his progress :—would you?

When a man who is driving a horse on the road,

Reins and whips the poor brute with unmerciful hand,
Whilst it willingly strives to haste on with its load,

Till with suff'ring and working it scarcely can stand;
Though he may be a man-and a wealthy one too;
I wouldn't give much for his feeling :—would you?

When a master who lives by his laborers' skill,
Hoards his gold up in thousands, still craving for more,
Though poor are his toilers he grindeth them still,

Or unfeelingly turns them away from his door;
Though he banketh his millions with claims not a few;
I wouldn't give much for his conscience:—would you?

When a tradesman his neighbor's fair terms will decry,
And keeps puffing his goods at a wonderful rate ;—
E'en at prices at which no fair trader can buy ;—

Though customers flock to him early and late;
When a few months have fled and large bills become due,
I wouldn't give much for his credit :—would you?

When in murderous deeds a man's hands are imbrued.
Tho' revenge is his plea, and the crime is conceal'd,
The severe stings of conscience will quickly intrude,
And the mind, self-accusing, can never be heal'd ;—
When the strong arm of justice sets out to pursue,
I wouldn't give much for his freedom:—would you?

When a husband and wife keep their secrets apart,

Not a word to my spouse about this, or on that; When a trifle may banish the pledge of their heart,

And he naggles-she snaggles ;-both contradict flat;

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