)
_4th Sol_. (_singing_.)
_Yankee doodle is the tune
Americans delight in,
'Twill do to whistle, sing, or play,
And just the thing for fighting.
Yankee doodle, boys, huzza_----
(_Breaking off abruptly_.) I do not like the looks of it, Will.
_5th Sol_. Of what?
_4th Sol_. Of the morning that begins to glimmer in the east there.
_5th Sol_. No? Why, I was thinking just now I never saw a handsomer
summer's dawning. That first faint light on the woods and meadows, there
is nothing I like better. See, it has reached the river now.
_4th Sol_. But the mornings we saw two years ago looked on us with
another sort of eye than this,--it is not the glimmer of the long,
pleasant harvest day that we see there.
_5th Sol_. We have looked on mornings that promised better, I'll own. I
would rather be letting down the bars in the old meadow just now, or
hawing with my team down the brake; with the children by my side to pick
the ripe blackberries for our morning meal, than standing here in these
rags with a gun on my shoulder. Let well alone.--We could not though.
_4th Sol_. (_Handing him a glass_.
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