1. Chapter I.
Philander Reed struggled with spool-thread and
tape in a dry-goods store at Ogdensburgh, 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 Jubiloo. Philander left his spool-thread and
tape, rushed into the street, and by his Long-Tail
Blue, said, “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,” said Philander, “where is
he?”
“Massa's in the cold, cold ground—at least I hope
so!” said 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,” said a German Bold Sojer Boy, “we
don't-fights-mit-Segel as much as we did.”
The regiment marched on, and Philander betook
himself to his mother's Cottage Near the Banks of
that Lone River, and rehearsed the stirring speech
he was to make that night at a war meeting.
“It's just before the battle, Mother,” he said, “and
I want to say something that will encourage Grant.”
