'At stirred him up like the tap of a drum--
At Petersburg, fer instunce, where
Jim rid right into their cannons there,
And _tuk_ 'em, and p'inted 'em t'other way,
And socked it home to the boys in gray,
As they scooted fer timber, and on and on--
Jim a lieutenant and one arm gone,
And the old man's words in his mind all day,--
"Well, good-by, Jim:
Take keer of yourse'f!"

Think of a private now, perhaps,
We'll say like Jim,
'At's clumb clean up to the shoulder-straps
And the old man jes' wrapped up in him!
Think of him--with the war plum, through.
And the glorious old Red-White-and-Blue
A-laughin' the news down over Jim,
And the old man bendin' over him--
The surgeon turin' away with tears
'At hadn't leaked for years and years,
As the hand of the dyin' boy clung to
His father's, the old voice in his ears,--
"Well, good-by, Jim:
Take keer of yourse'f!"




[Illustration]