Caswell and Gaston and Davis and Bragg

Macon, the wise the peerless D. H. Hill,
Graham and Gilmer-both the Ransoms-Hoke
And Holmes-the martyr'd Grimes-th' illustrious Scales
The bay-crown'd Pettigrew! Ramseur, who fell
At Cedar Creek, and Pender, 'round whose brow
Was twin'd the laurel-wreath at Gettysburg!
Albemarle Sound still frames a beauteous face.
Whene'er the sunrise beams on Edenton,
It kindles her memorial. Upon

The old State's fairest page, is writ her name-
Renown'd Penelope !* 'Twas she who gave
That great Tea Party, held without the Tea!
What an exhilarating draught to us,

Two centuries later, is the spic'd account

That breathes the splendid story! Deathless be
Historic Edenton's sweet heroine!

Land of the brave Scotch-Irish, whose grim molds
Have fashion'd godlike men and cities proud,
Charlotte Salisbury-Raleigh-Chapel Hill-
Hillsboro-Halifax, and Wilmington.

Back in the olden days, her stout arms bore
A Pollock and a Moseley-rock'd to sleep
A Harnett and a Harvey, both of whom

Were tyranny's acknowledg'd foes, from whom
Could spring, naught but the flower of Liberty!
Upon the old colonial rolls, we find
Hugh Waddell's shining name-a radiant star
Lit in her morning sky. Then later came
The Nashes-men, cast in the mold of Mars,
The Ashes-like Achilles, bred to arms,
The Iredells and the Hoopers and the Penns.
North Carolina! On whose battle-lists
Born of Confederate sires, the Muse has writ

* Penelope Barker.

Worth Bagley's name, he from whose veins there leap'd
The first red rubies of the War with Spain.

Home of the Carrs-the Winstons and the Dukes
The land where Caldwell thought and Davie hurl'd
His bolts of eloquence, and Tiernan wrote
And Boner sang among the whispering pines!
But who can number the illustrious sons

Whose names have glorified the old North State?
First, let him number the autumnal leaves,
Next, count the crystal sea-side sands, and then,
From the horizon, catalogue the stars.

IV.

THE ROLL CALL OF THE STATES-(Continued)

N

EXT, Alabama!* On her coat-of-arms,

Blazes the ancient legend: "Here We Rest!"
Calling to mind an emerald Arcady

That charm'd the early settlers. But the strain

To which that grand old State has ever mov'd
Is not an anthem of inglorious ease,
But "Onward!" Aye, we love her very name.
"Twas she who held, in her maternal arms,
A young Confederacy; who heard it lisp,
In infant Freedom's nursery syllables;
Who lifted, o'er its earliest cradle-sleep,
The lullabies of Liberty; and who,

In tenderest motherhood, sustain'd its life,
Aye, from the pearly fountains of her breast,
While, o'er her state-house, in Montgomery, stood
The Morning Star of Dixie. In the clasp
Of silent Oakwood's cedar'd glooms, repose
A Hilliard and a Yancey. 'Neath the oaks
Of Selma, sleeps the brave Hardee. At rest,
Beside him, in their stainless togas wrapp'd,
Repose those two great soldier-senators,
Morgan and Pettus; while, in yonder vault,
Crumbles the mold of William Rufus King,
Once the Republic's great Vice-President.
Coosada's shades enfold the glorious Bibb.
At Birmingham lies Johnston. In the clash
Of arms, though but a lad, four bullet wounds
Tore his young flesh. But the old mother State
Did not forget. She mourns his dust today.

* Alabama seceded from the Union January 11, 1861, and became the seat of the provisional government of the Confederate States of America. She was the fourth State to withdraw.