196 



THE IRRIGATION AGE. 



borne away, or in case the waste does not return to the streams the soil 

 absorbs all disease germs and emits a healthful ozone to be wafted 

 upon the breeze into the fields and homes of the farmers. In all culti- 

 vated areas where irrigation is practiced, the surface soil is filled with 

 channels cut by the water in its rush to the subsoil strata, preventing 

 loggy or sour soil and furnishing a means for self purification in the air 

 chambers beneath the plow point. This effects perfect drainage from 

 the highlands and marshes and leaves no stagnant pools to form mias- 

 matic germs of disease. In the rainbelt the water falling to the surface 

 in occasional showers almost immediately runs away in time worn sur- 

 face channels to the swamps and lowlands where it assists in the decom- 

 position of vegetation and creating diseased atmosphere. 



A SOUTHERN VOLUNTEER. 



Yes sir, I fought with Stonewall, 



And faced the fight with Lee; 

 But if this here Union goes to War, 



Make one more gun for me! 

 I didn't shrink from Sherman 



As he galloped to the sea; 

 But if this here Union goes to war. 



Make one more gun for me! 

 I was with 'em at Manassas 



The bully boys in Gray; 

 I heard the thunderers roarin' 



Round Stonewall Jackson's way 

 And many a time this sword of mine 



Has blazed the route for Lee, 

 But if this old nation goes to war, 



Make one more sword for me! 

 I'm not so full o' fightin', 



Nor half so full o' fun 

 As I was back in the sixties 



When I shouldered my old gun; 

 It may be that my hair is white 



Sich things, you know, must be; 

 But if this old Union's in for war, 



Make one more gun for me! 

 I hain't forgot my raisin' 



Nor how, in sixty-two, 

 Or thereabouts, with battle shouts 



I charged the boys in blue; 

 And I say; I fought with Stonewall, 



And blazed the way for Lee; 

 But if this old Union's in for war, 



Make one more gun for me! 



Atlanta Constitution. 



Just make it two, old fellow, 



I want to stand once more 

 Beneath the old flag with you 



As in the days of yore, 

 Our fathers stood together 



And fought on land and sea 

 The battles fierce that made us 



A nation of the free. 

 I whipped you down at Vicksburg, 



You licked me at Bull Run; 

 On many a field we struggled, 



When neither victory won, 

 You wore the gray of southland, 



I wore the northern blue; 

 Like men we did our duty, 



When screaming bullets flew. 

 Four years we fought like devils 



But when the war was done 

 Your hand met mine in friendly clasp, 



Our two hearts beat as one. 

 And now when danger threatens, 



No north, no south we know 

 Once more we stand together 



To fight the common foe. 

 My head, like yours is frosty, 



Old age is creeping on; 

 Life's sun is lower sinking, 



My day will soon be gone. 

 But if our country's honor 



Needs once again her son, 

 I'm ready, too, old fellow, 



So get another gun. 



The Redfield, (S. D.) Press. 



