Oh, but the Apron-string Guards are the fellows! Drilling each day since our trouble began,— “Handle your walking-sticks!” “Shoulder umbrellas!” That is the style for the sweet little man. Have we a nation to save? In the first place Saving ourselves is the sensible plan. Surely, the spot where there’s shooting’s the worst place Where I can stand, says the sweet little man. Catch me confiding my person with strangers, Think how the cowardly Bull-Runners ran! In the brigade of the Stay-at-home Rangers Marches my corps, says the sweet little man. Such was the stuff of the Malakoff takers, Such were the soldiers that scaled the Redan; Truculent housemaids and bloodthirsty Quakers Brave not the wrath of the sweet little man! Yield him the sidewalk, ye nursery maidens! _Sauve qui peut!_ Bridget, and Right about! Ann;— Fierce as a shark in a school of menhadens, See him advancing, the sweet little man! When the red flails of the battlefield’s threshers Beat out the continent’s wheat from its bran, While the wind scatters the chaffy seceshers, What will become of our sweet little man? When the brown soldiers come back from the borders, How will he look while his features they scan? How will he feel when he gets marching orders, Signed by his lady love? sweet little man. Fear not for him though the Rebels expect him,— Life is too precious to shorten its span; Woman her broomstick shall raise to protect him, Will she not fight for the sweet little man! Now, then, nine cheers for the Stay-at-home Ranger! Blow the great fish-horn and beat the big pan! First in the field, that is farthest from danger, Take your white feather plume, sweet little man! [Illustration: SWEET LITTLE MEN OF ’61.] The 16th of April was a memorable day in the history of the Old Bay State,—a day made more uncomfortable by the rain and sleet which were falling with disagreeable constancy. Well do I remember the day. Possessing an average amount of the fire and enthusiasm of youth, I had asked my father’s consent to go out with Company A of the old Fourth Regiment, which belonged to my native town. But he would not give ear to any such “nonsense,” and, having been brought up to obey his orders, although of military age (18), I did not enter the service in the first rally. This company did not go with full ranks. There were few that did. Several of my shopmates were in its membership. As those of us who remained gathered at the windows that stormy forenoon to see the company go by, the sight filled us with the most gloomy forebodings. [Illustration: ADJUTANT HINKS NOTIFYING CAPTAIN KNOTT V. MARTIN.]