All the great songs of the civil war, with one exception, were written during the first year of the conflict. This exception is "Marching through Georgia." It was written to commemorate one of the most remarkable campaigns of the war. Now that the war has been over for nearly thirty years, and the old soldier has no military duty more serious than fighting his battles o'er again, "Marching through Georgia" has become the song dearest to his heart. At the annual encampments of the Grand Army of the Republic, and at numerous meetings of the members of the Grand Army posts, the writer has heard this sung more frequently than any other. The words were composed by Mr. Henry C. Work, author of many well-known songs. Among the other best known of his patriotic lyrics are "Grafted into the Army" and "Kingdom Come." Mr. Work was born in Middletown, Conn., October 1, 1832. When he was very young his father removed to Illinois. He was an inventor as well as a song writer, and among his successful inventions are a knitting machine, a walking doll, and a rotary engine. He died in Hartford, June 8, 1884. Bring me the good old bugle, boys! we'll sing another song-- Sing it with that spirit that will start the world along-- Sing it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong, While we were marching through Georgia. CHORUS: "Hurrah, hurrah! we bring the Jubilee! Hurrah, hurrah! the flag that makes you free!" So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea, While we were marching through Georgia. How the darkies shouted when they heard the joyful sound! How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found! How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground! While we were marching through Georgia. Yes, and there were Union men who wept with joyful tears, When they saw the honored flag they hadn't seen for years; Hardly could they be restrained from breaking out in cheers, While we were marching through Georgia. "Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never reach the coast!" So the saucy rebels said, and 'twas a handsome boast; Had they not forgotten, alas! to reckon with the host, While we were marching through Georgia? So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train, Sixty miles in latitude--three hundred to the main; Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain, While we were marching through Georgia. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] {130} [Illustration: PRAYER IN "STONEWALL" JACKSON'S CAMP.] {131} SOUTHERN SONGS. DIXIE.