From the Alps and the Balkan. From the home of the reindeer and the land of the olive. From Majorca and Minorca, and from the Isles of Greece.
From Berlin and Vienna; from Dublin and from Paris; from the vine-clad hills of the Adriatic and the frozen shores of the Baltic Sea.
From Skager Rack and Skater Gat, and from Como and Killarney.
From sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain, from the banks and braes o’ bonny Doon, and from Bingen-on-the-Rhine.
Catholic and Calvinist; Teuton, Slav, and Celt,—who was not there to swell that host, and the babel of tongues around their camp-fires? For to every hut in Europe, where the pinch of want was known, had gone the rumor of fabulous bounty and high pay now, generous pension hereafter.
At Bull Run the North met the South; at Appomattox Lee laid down his sword in the presence of the world in arms.
CHAPTER LXXI.
And Gordon? What did he see, standing on Massanutten’s crest?
They lay there, beyond Cedar Creek, the Eighth Corps, the Nineteenth Corps and the Sixth; and, further away, the heavy masses of their cavalry; spread out before him, forty or fifty thousand strong.
Like a map. “I can distinguish the very chevrons of that sergeant,” said he.