The British troops in new uniforms, in striking contrast to the worn and faded garb of the colonists, followed the officer with colors furled. Coming opposite General Washington, O'Hara saluted and presented the sword of Cornwallis. A tense silence pervaded the assembly. General Washington motioned that the sword be given to General Lincoln. Apparently forgetful of the indignities heaped upon him by the British at Charleston, the latter returned the sword to General O'Hara, remarking as he did so, "Kindly return it to his Lordship, Sir." "Ground arms" came the order from the British officers. The troops complied sullenly; the humiliation felt by them in their defeat was everywhere apparent. The next day the conquered army marched out of Yorktown between the American and French troops. Their fifers, with a brave show of humor, played, "The World's turned Upside Down." Washington had directed his soldiers to show no disrespect nor unkindness to the defeated troops. But the remembrance of "Yankee Doodle," as played by the Britons in their times of conquest, in taunting derision of the Americans, proved too much for the latter to endure without return, when supreme occasion such as this offered. To the strains of "Yankee Doodle Do," from American fifes, Lord Cornwallis and his army bade adieu to the scenes wherein they had once marched as conquerors. In thanksgiving to God was voiced the nation's exultation. Congress adjourned the sessions and the members repaired to church to give thanks; business was suspended in all places. Throughout the land the voice of the people was raised in a mighty chorus of prayer and praise to the Almighty. YORKTOWN FROM Yorktown's ruins, ranked and still, Two lines stretch far o'er vale and hill: Who curbs his steed at head of one? Hark! the low murmur: Washington! Who bends his keen, approving glance Where down the gorgeous line of France Shine knightly star and plume of snow? Thou too art victor, Rochambeau! The earth which bears this calm array Shook with the war-charge yesterday; Plowed deep with hurrying hoof and wheel, Shot down and bladed thick with steel; October's clear and noonday sun Paled in the breath-smoke of the gun; And down night's double blackness fell, Like a dropped star, the blazing shell. Now all is hushed: the gleaming lines Stand moveless as the neighboring pines; While through them, sullen, grim, and slow, The conquered hosts of England go; O'Hara's brow belies his dress, Gay Tarleton's troops ride bannerless; Shout from the fired and wasted homes, Thy scourge, Virginia, captive comes!