his
very manhood.

At last there arose a magic strain that produced an effect to
which the former was nothing. It was "Yankee Doodle!"

The Senator did not speak. He could not find words. He turned
his eyes first upon one, and then another of his companions; eyes
beaming with joy and triumph--eyes that showed emotion arising
straight from a patriot's heart--eyes which seemed to say: Is there
any sound on earth or above the earth that can equal this?

[Illustration: Old Virginny.]

Yankee Doodle has never, received justice. It is a tune without
words. What are the recognized words? Nonsense unutterable--the
sneer of a British officer. But the tune!--ah that is quite
another thing!

The tune was from the very first taken to the national heart, and
has never ceased to be cherished there. The Republic has grown to
be a very different thing from that weak beginning, but its
national air is as popular as ever. The people do not merely
love it. They glory in it. And yet apologies are sometimes made
for it. By whom? By the soulless dilettante. The people know
better:--the farmers, the mechanics, the fishermen, the
dry-goods clerks, the newsboys, the railway stokers, the butchers,
the bakers, the candlestick-makers, the tinkers, the tailors, the
soldiers, the sailors. Why? Because this music has a voice of its
own, more expressive than words; the language of the soul, which
speaks forth in certain melodies which form an utterance of
unutterable passion.

The name was perhaps given in ridicule. It was accepted with pride.
The air is rash, reckless, gay, triumphant, noisy, boisterous,
careless, heedless, rampant, raging, roaring, rattle, brainish,
devil-may-care-ish, plague-take-the-hindmost-ish; but! solemn,
stern, hopeful, resolute, fierce, menacing, strong, cantankerous
(cantankerous is entirely an American idea), bold, daring--

Words fail.

Yankee Doodle has not yet received its Doo!

The Senator had smiled, laughed, sighed, wept, gone through many
variations of feeling.

He had thrown _baiocchi_ till his pockets were exhausted, and then
handed forth silver. He had shaken hands with all his companions ten
times over. They themselves went not quite as far in feeling as he,
but yet to a certain extent they went in.

And yet Americans are thought to be practical, and not ideal. Yet here
was a true American who was intoxicated--drunk! By what? By sound,
notes, harmony. By music!

"Buttons," said he, as the