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terrogation mark, and seems to ask : "What on earth is a New Yorker?" Oh, Emperial city of Manhattan Island, crowned with trophies, and lassoing the corners of the earth to thy feet with thy railroads and telegraphs, and white sailed ships! Even thy name and fame have limitations. There are those to whom thy mighty name is but a meaningless sound. Never having seen a genuine plantation dance, a party soon formed a ring around this same diminutive darkey, whose raiment, scanty even in its original shape, seemed about to leave him altogether. The little fellow shook it down right merrily, executing some movements that would make our 66 variety specialists" turn green with envy. He was rewarded with a handful of nickels-probably untold wealth to him, and when the train departed, stood looking after it with wide extended eyes as if a vision of paradise was passing from him.

CHAPTER V.

MISSISSIPPI AND LOUISIANA.

O beauteous Peace!

Sweet Union of a state! what else but thou

Gives safety, strength and glory to a people?

--Thompson.

HOLLY SPRINGS is only a short distance over the Mississippi border. A signal was flying there for the train to stop, and stop it did. Hundreds of people crowded about the little station, ladies waved their handkerchiefs from the windows and balconies, and a line of soldiers in gray, were drawn up at present arms. They were the Autrey Rifles, and were paraded in our honor. The men were turned out and drawn up in a long line without arms, and everybody awaited developments. Presently a tall

and commanding looking man forced his way through the crowd, and bared his head. There was a hush at once. Colonel Vose made his way up the line, and stood near while a number of officers grouped themselves about the two. It was Major General Winfield Scott Featherstone, at one time commanding a Division in the Southern Army, and he addressed us on behalf of the State of Mississippi and the citizens of the County. The General said :

There was a time

"I welcome you across our border. when your coming would have occasioned a feeling of fear and distrust; that was in the bitter past. Thank God it has passed! (Cheers.) The North and the south never understood one another; never had a grand convocation until 1861, when the country was in arms from the Atlantic to the Rio Grande. Thank God those days are gone. We welcome you here. and our fertile soil.

We want you to see our people All we need now is capital. Your

coming will do much to make us acquainted. You will find us of the South, as loyal to our country's flag as you are. (Enthusiastic cheers.) When the time comes for our great country to have a foreign war and we can never have any other, we will march with you against our common enemy. The Seventy-first New York, will march side by side with the Seventy-first Mississippi, under the same officers, and the same flag, for our cause and our country are one."

Colonel Vose responded, thanking the General for his kindly words, and assuring him, that when the moment

came, the soldiers of New York would be found ready to march shoulder to shoulder with those of Mississippi to Victory. Then there arose such a yell from the Mississippians as few of the boys of Ours had heard in many a day. It was the old "war yell" given with a vim, and redoubled when the band struck up Dixie and Yankee Doodle. The cheer of the regiment mingled with the prolonged, piercing cry, and the strains of the band were almost lost. General Featherstone stood with his head uncovered, his long white locks flowing in the wind, his face full of animation and fire, the very beau ideal of the ancien regime. Colonel Vose stood beside him, his long military cloak thrown back, his head erect and features smiling, the beau ideal of a soldier. Their hands were clasped. The whole tableau was spirited and dramaticthe long line of blue uniforms, the smoking train, the gleaming rifles of the boys in gray, the hundreds of anxious, curious faces peering over their shoulders, made a picture that the golden shadows of the deepening twilight exquisitely framed. It was one of the most interesting episodes of the entire trip. The warmth and spontaniety of the greeting made us feel that we were among brothers

indeed.

A few miles more and we had run into a thunder shower-remember, this was in February-the lightning flashed vividly, and the rain fell in torrents far into the night. The boys did not care much for that however, as they were comfortable enough in the cars, and thought that:

The poet may talk of his lutes and guitars,
Or screw up his fiddle of sorrow;

But while we have plenty of pipes and cigars,

We'll look for a brighter to-morrow.

From a heavy snow storm, to a warm thunder shower in forty-eight hours, was something of a change, but the boys did not spend the night in pondering over it by any means. Many a quiet way-side station that night, echoed with the regimental cheer, which by the way, became very popular in the South, and many requests were made for its repetition when once heard. It runs, as near as it can be expressed in print, as follows:

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

Seventy-one! Seventy-one! Seventy-one!
Rah! Rah! Rah!

S-ssssssssssss!

Boom! Ah!-h-h-h-h!!

Sunday morning broke bright and beautiful, and when the train pulled up in Hammond, Louisiana, it was like a June day. The flowers were in bloom, the trees were green; and the darkies were running about with very little more on than was provided by nature. The large hotel looked inviting, and many a pair of lips were smacked in anticipation of a good breakfast, for it was announced that here we were to meet a company of uniformed men from Buffalo, and that we should consequently be delayed for about two hours. The hotel was invaded, but alas! the Washington Artillery detachment had stopped there over night, and had eaten the hotel people out of house and home! The detachment numbered only about fifty men,

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