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dly poor. Any attempted notice of their authors in limits like this would be sheer failure; and where many did so well, it were invidious to discriminate. The names of John R. Thompson, James Randall, Henry Timrod, Paul Hayne, Barron Hope, Margaret Preston, James Overall, Harry Lyndon Flash and Frank Ticknor had already become household words in the South, where they will live forever. Wherever his people read anything, the classic finish of his Latane, the sweet caress of his Stuart and trior people; and, not alone the finest war dirge of the South, it is excelled by no sixteen lines in any language, for power, lilt and tenderness! Perhaps Thompson's Dirge for Ashby, Randall's song of triumph over dead John Pelham and Mrs. Margaret Preston's Ashby, may rank side-by-side next to the Jackson. The modest author of the last-named did not claim it, until the universal voice of her people called for her name; and it is noteworthy that large numbers of war-song writers hid from
Chapter 10: the end of the struggle Historic Fort Moultrie at Charleston in ruins—1865 Illustrations for Margaret Preston's lines A past whose memory makes us thrill—this stronghold, named for William Moultrie, the young South Carolinian who defended it in 1776 against the British, was 85 years later held by South Carolinians against fellow-Americans —in the picture it is once more under the flag of a united land. A past whose memory makes us thrill: war-time scenes in Virginia there— No pain, no pang shall be confest: We'll work and watch the brightening west, And leave to God and Heaven the rest. Margaret Junkin Preston. Mourning women among the Richmond ruins—April, 1865 A somber picture that visualizes Margaret Preston's poem Acceptation. Our Eyes Welcome Through Tears the Sweet Release From War. A second review of the grand army I read last night of the Grand Review In Washington's chiefest avenue,— Two hundred thousand men in blue, I think th