If you look across the hill-tops that meet the northern sky,
  Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry;
  And now the wind, an instant, tears the cloudy veil aside,
  And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride,
  And bayonets in the sunlight gleam, and bands brave music pour: 
  We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!

  If you look all up our valleys where the growing harvests shine,
  You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast forming into line;
  And children from their mother’s knees are pulling at the weeds,
  And learning how to reap and sow against their country’s needs;
  And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage door: 
  We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!

  You have called us, and we’re coming, by Richmond’s bloody tide
  To lay us down, for Freedom’s sake, our brothers’ bones beside,
  Or from foul treason’s savage grasp to wrench the murderous blade,
  And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade. 
  Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone before: 
  We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!

ANONYMOUS.

* * * * *

THE OLD MAN AND JIM.

  Old man never had much to say—­
    ‘Ceptin’ to Jim,—­
  And Jim was the wildest boy he had,
    And the old man jes’ wrapped up in him! 
  Never heerd him speak but once
  Er twice in my life,—­and first time was
  When the army broke out, and Jim he went,
  The old man backin’ him, fer three months;
  And all ’at I heerd the old man say
  Was jes’ as we turned to start away,—­
    “Well, good-bye, Jim: 
    Take keer of yourse’f!”

  ’Peared like he was more satisfied
    Jes’ lookin’ at Jim
  And likin’ him all to hisse’f-like, see?—­
    ‘Cause he was jes’ wrapped up in him! 
  And over and over I mind the day
  The old man come and stood round in the way
  While we was drillin’, a-watchin’ Jim;
  And down at the deepot a heerin’ him say,—­
    “Well, good-bye, Jim: 
    Take keer of yourse’f!”

  Never was nothin’ about the farm
    Disting’ished Jim;
  Neighbors all ust to wonder why
    The old man ’peared wrapped up in him: 
  But when Cap.  Biggler, he writ back
  ’At Jim was the bravest boy we had
  In the whole dern rigiment, white er black,
  And his fightin’ good as his farmin’ bad,—­
  ’At he had led, with a bullet clean
  Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag
  Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen,—­
  The old man wound up a letter to him
  ’At Cap. read to us, ’at said,—­“Tell Jim Good-bye;
    And take keer of hisse’f!”