The unexpected had happened, and such a shout as went up from that
throng I have never heard equaled. Hats were tossed in the air,
gray-bearded men embraced, and for a few minutes a jubilant
pandemonium reigned supreme. During the rest of our stay in
Fayetteville the repertoire of the Marine Band was on this order:
"Yankee Doodle,"--"Dixie;" "Star-Spangled Banner,"--"Dixie;"
"Red, White and Blue,"--"Dixie."

In all my experience the acme of patriotic fervor was reached during
a reunion of the Loyal Legion at Philadelphia some years ago. The
exercises were held in the Academy of Music, and the band occupied
the orchestra pit in front of the stage, which was crowded with
distinguished veterans.

I had strung together for the occasion a number of war-songs,
bugle-calls and patriotic airs, and when the band played them the
martial spirit began to stir the people. As we broke into
"Marching Through Georgia," a distinguished-looking old soldier
stepped to the foot-lights and began to sing the familiar words of
the famous song in a loud, clear voice. The entire audience joined
in, and as the swelling volume of melody rolled through the house,
the enthusiasm waxed more intense.

Verse after verse was sung, interrupted with frantic cheers, until
it seemed that the very ecstasy of enthusiasm had been reached. It
was only when physically exhausted that the audience calmed down
and the exercises proceeded.