* * * * *

_Tara-tara!_

From far away a faint fanfare of trumpets, borne on brazen wings from
the distant clamor of the city's streets.

_Tara-tara!_

"What's that--a bugle?"

_R-r-r-r-rum-dum!_

"And that--a drum?"

_Tramp--tramp--tramp_--the rolling thunder of ten thousand feet.

_War has been declared!_

From North to South, the marching lines fill the land--a sea of men
whose flashing bayonets glisten and glitter in the morning light. With
steady step and even rank, with thrill of brass lunged band and
screaming fife the regiments sweep by--in front, the officers on their
dancing steeds--behind them, line after line of youthful faces, chins
in, chests out, the light of victory already shining in their eyes.

In just this way the Nation's sons went forth to fight in those first
brave days of '61. Just so they marched out, defiant, from South and
North alike, each side eager for the cause he thought was right, with
bright pennons snapping in the breeze and bugles blowing gayly and never