"
"They'd certainly make a magnificent target on the battlefield. A
Kentucky or Tennessee rifleman who'd miss such a target would die of
shame."
"Maybe. But listen, they're singing! What do you think of that for a
military tune?"
Harry heard for the first time in his life an extraordinary, choppy air,
a rapid beat that rose and fell abruptly, sending a powerful thrill
through his heart as he lay there in the bushes. The words were nothing,
almost without meaning, but the tune itself was full of compelling
power. It set the feet marching toward triumphant battle.
"In Dixie's land I'll take my stand,
Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom,
Look away! Look away!
Down South in Dixie!"
Three or four hundred voices took up the famous battle song, as
thrilling and martial as the Marseillaise, then fresh and unhackneyed,
and they sang it with enthusiasm and fire, officers joining with the
men. It was a singular fact that Harry should first hear Northern
troops singing the song which was destined to become the great battle
tune of the South.
"What is it?" whispered Harry.
"It's called Dixie. They say it was written by a man in New York for a
negro minstrel show.
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