a yard filled with shade trees. The view beyond bounded by a
hill partly wooded. A young girl, in the picturesque costume of
the time, lies sleeping on the antique sofa. Annie sits by a
table, covered with coarse needlework, humming snatches of songs
as she works_.


_Annie_, (_singing_.)

_Soft peace spreads her wings and flies weeping away.
Soft peace spreads her wings and flies weeping away.
And flies weeping away.
The red cloud of war o'er our forest is scowling,
Soft peace spreads her wings and flies weeping away.
Come blow the shrill bugle, the war dogs are howling,
Already they eagerly snuff out their prey--
The red cloud of war--the red cloud of war_--


Yes, let me see now,--with a little plotting this might make two--two,
at least,--and then--

_The red cloud of war o'er our forest is scowling,
Soft peace spreads her wings and flies weeping away,
The infants affrighted cling close to their mothers,
The youths grasp their swords, and for combat prepare;
While beauty weeps fathers, and lovers, and brothers,
Who are gone to defend_--