Historical readings; an introduction to the study of American history, ed. with notes and biographical sketches by Bennett Helen Blanche

Author:Bennett, Helen Blanche, [from old catalog] ed & Haniphy, Joseph A., [from old catalog] joint ed
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Readers
Publisher: Chicago, New York, Rand, McNally & company
Published: 1920-03-25T05:00:00+00:00

REPRODUCTION OP THE ORIGINAL LETTER

TENTING ON THE OLD CAMP GROUND

WALTER KITTRBDGE

We're tenting to-night on the old camp ground;

Give us a song to cheer Our weary hearts, a song of home, And friends we love so dear.

Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, i

Wishing for the war to cease. Many are the hearts looking for the right, To see the dawn of Peace. Tenting to-night, tenting to-night, Tenting on the old camp grotmd. lo

We've been tenting to-night on the old camp ground,

Thinking of days gone by, Of the loved ones at home, that gave us the hand,

And the tear that said "Good-bye!"

We are tired of the war on the old camp ground, u

Many are dead and gone. Of the brave and true who've left their homes

Others been wotmded long.

We've been fighting to-day on the old camp grotmd. Many are lying near; »

Some are dead, and some are dying, Many are in tears.

LITTLE GIFPEN*

FRANCIS ORRAY TICKNOR

Out of the focal and foremost fire. Out of the hospital walls as dire. Smitten of grape-^ot and gangrene, (Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen!)

5 Spectre! such as you seldom see,

Little Giffen, of Tennessee!

**Take him and welcome!" the surgeons said: Little the doctor can help the dead! So we took him, and brought him where 10 The balm was sweet in the sunmier air;

And we laid him down on a wholesome bed-Utter Lazarus, heel to head!

And we watched the war with bated breath, Skeleton boy against skeleton death. lA Months of torture, how many such?

Weary weeks of the stick and crutch; And still a glint in the steel-blue leye Told of a spirit that wouldn't die.

And didn't. Nay, more! in death's despite 90 The crippled skeleton learned to write.

"Dear Mother," at first, of course, and then, "Dear Captain," inquiring about the men.

Captain's answer: "Of eighty and five,

Giffen and I are left alive."

28 Word of-gloom from the war, one day;

Johnston pressed at the front, they say.

Little Giffen was up and away;

A tear—his first—as he bade good-by.

Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye. " I *11 write, if spared!'' There was news of the 80 fight;

But none of Giffen. He did not write.

I sometimes fancy that were I king

Of the princely knights of the Golden Ring,

With the song of the minstrel in mine ear.

And the tender legend that trembles here, w

I 'd give the best on his bended knee,

The whitest soul of my chivalry,

For "Little GiflFen/' of Tennessee.

THE SECOND INAUGURAL ADDRESS

[March 4, 1865]

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Fellow-countrymen: At this second appearing to take the oath of the presidential office, there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then a statement, somewhat in detail, of a course to be pursued, seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four a years, during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which all

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