ir voices, singing,
in its native French, "The Marseillaise," that grandest of all national
airs.

The younger generation cannot comprehend, and express surprise that the
old soldiers never forget and are so wrought up by the recollections of
their war experiences; but to have participated in a scene such as this
will readily explain why a soul should thrill at its recurring mention.

In 1883, nearly twenty years after the war, I was called to Cumberland,
Maryland, on business. By reason of a reunion of the Army of the
Cumberland being held there at the time, the hotels were crowded,
making it necessary for me to find accommodations in a boarding-house.
Sitting around the front door of the house, as I entered, were half a
dozen Federal soldiers discussing war-times. The window of the room to
which I was assigned opened immediately over where the men sat, and as I
lay in bed I heard them recount their experiences in battle after battle
in which I had taken part. It stirred me greatly. Next morning they had
gone out when I went down to breakfast, but I told the lady of the house
of my interest in their talk of the previous night. At noon the same
party was sitting in the hall, having finished their dinners, as I
passed through to mine. They greeted me cordially and said, "We heard of
what you said about overhearing us last night; take a seat and let's
discuss old times." My answer was, "I have met you gentlemen already on
too many battlefields with an empty stomach, so wait till I get my
dinner." With a hearty laugh this was approved of, and I joined them
soon after. Most of them were from Ohio and West Virginia. They said,
though, as I was but one against six, to say what I pleased; and for an
hour or more we discussed, good-humoredly, many scenes of mutual
interest.

* * * * *

The following lines are recalled from Merrick's songs:

"Och hone, by the man in the moon!
You taze me all ways that a woman can plaze;
For you dance twice as high with that thief, Pat McGhee,
As you do when you're dancing a jig, Love, with me;
Though the piper I'd bate, for fear the old chate
Wouldn't play you your favorite chune.

"Och hone, don't provoke me to do it,
For there are girls by the score
That would have me and more.
Sure there's Katy Nale, that would jump if I'd say,
'Katy Nale, name the day.'
And though you are fresh and fair as the flowers in May,
An