the music of the day.]

CHAPTER I.

Philander Reed struggled with spool-thread and tape in a dry-
goods store at Ogdensburg, on the St. Lawrence River, State of
New York. He Rallied Round the Flag, Boys, and HAILED Columbia
every time she passed that way. One day a regiment returning
from the war Came Marching Along, bringing An Intelligent
Contraband with them, who left the South about the time Babylon
was a-Fallin', and when it was apparent to all well-ordered minds
that the Kingdom was Coming, accompanied by the Day of Jubilee.
Philander left his spool-thread and tape, rushed into the street,
and by his Long-Tail Blue, sed, "Let me kiss him for his Mother."
Then, with patriotic jocularity, he inquired, "How is your High
Daddy in the Morning?" to which Pomp of Cudjo's Cave replied,
"That poor Old Slave has gone to rest, we ne'er shall see him
more! But U.S.G. is the man for me, or Any other Man." Then he
Walked Round.

"And your Master," sed Philander, "where is he?"

"Massa's in the cold, cold ground--at least I hope so!" sed the
gay contraband.

"March on, March on! all hearts rejoice!" cried the Colonel, who
was mounted on a Bob-tailed nag--on which, in times of Peace, my
soul, O Peace! he had betted his money.

"Yaw," sed a German Bold Sojer Boy, "we don't-fights-mit-Segel as