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 thoir voices and a mist stealing over thotr oyes. Upon Moutagno a spoll was falling. ,

Ovor thes mon and their story thora hung a mystery. it provonco of wander, that cisclosos itaslf but rarely to mortals, ant only to those who hnve dreamed and dared. ‘Thoy had not found it easy to do thoir duty ; thay had iad thoir wives and chiklron, choir homes wid frionda and familias places; and all these thoy had loft to serve tho Ropublic. Thoy had taught thomselyes a now way of life—-thoy had forged thom- solved into an iron award of war. Thay had marched. wad fought in dust and lhoat, in pouring reing and driving, joy blasts ; thoy had beoome mon grin and torrihle in spivit--anen with limba of ateol, who vould march or ride for days and nights, who could lis dawn wd sleop upon the ground in rain-stborma and winter snows, who wore roady to leap at a word and selza thor muskote ond rush into the cannon’s mouth, ‘Bhoy had learnud bo stare into the face of death, to meut its fiery ayes ; fo maroh and oat and sloop, to laugh and ploy and sing, in its prosonoo-—to carey bheie life in thoir hats, and tous it about as a jugglor tovrea a hell. And this for Procdom: for tho star-orowned Koddoss with the flaming ayes, whe trod upon tho mountuin-topa and celled to them in tho shook and fury of tha battle ; whosae trailing robos thoy followed through the dust and cannon-smole ; for a glimpsa of whowo shining faco they had kept the long night vigils and ahargad upou the guns in tho morning; for n tonoh of whoso shimmoring reba thoy had wasted in prison pons, where famine and loathsome pestilence and raving madnedy stalked about in the broad day- light.

And now this army of dolivorance, with its waving