“Open ranks, trap them into your centre and then close about them,” ordered Col. Neff, of the Invincible Second.
“Whoop! whoop! whoop!” yelled Little Phil.
“Hold one moment,” sounded a deep full voice above all the rest, the voice of Sherman, the umpire; “who’s to win this battle? It’s past lunch time and I should like the thing decided.”
At the word “lunch,” a change came o’er the scene.
“We surrender,” remarked Rogers.
“Whoop!” shouted Sheridan for the last time, and Col. Benson, mounting one of the guns, crowed lustily. The warriors, covered with sawdust and glory, then mingled with the crowd; and when we left the ladies were busily engaged brushing the former from the uniforms of their favorites, who were modestly receiving the latter in the congratulations of all around them.
We didn’t wait for the hop, but learned that it was as satisfactory as the military display.
And so passed the time until that day of days, the Fourth of July, 1876. One hundred thousand Americans, who had not taken part in their country’s first birth-day celebration, resolved to atone for that neglect upon this occasion. Statues were to be unveiled, fountains dedicated, salutes fired, and fireworks exploded. An enthusiastic astronomer predicted that the sun would rise an hour earlier than the regulation time for the season upon this great day and his augury proved correct.
At four o’clock A. M. the Mayor of the city, who, with the members of Councils, had slept upon the grounds, entered the Main Exhibition Hall, read a few chapters of the Bible from the top of the southeastern tower, and finished up with his usual proclamation forbidding the firing of guns and pistols other than those specially ordered for the salutes. A selected choir of mysterious pilgrims then sang a choice collection of hymns.
At the conclusion of this religious exercise, free lunch and forty thousand loaves of bread were distributed from the steps of Memorial Hall. It was an imposing sight to behold the long line of visitors, who were living here on the European plan, with their tin-pails and baskets, waiting for the loaves and soup.