On the day succeeding the evacuation of the fort, he issued a proclamation calling for 75,000 soldiers to recover possession of the “forts, places, and property which have been seized from the Union,” and at the same time summoned an extra session of both Houses of Congress, to assemble on Thursday, the fourth day of July, “to consider and determine such measures as, in their wisdom, the public safety and interest may seem to demand.” It is needless to say that the evacuation of Fort Sumter, and the President’s proclamation, created a whirlwind of excitement. The South was jubilant, the North was deeply stirred, and the proclamation was generally approved and promptly responded to. These spirited lines of the poet Whittier are well called THE VOICE OF THE NORTH. Up the hill-side, down the glen Rouse the sleeping citizen; Summon out the might of men! Like a lion growling low-- Like a night-storm rising slow-- Like the tread of unseen foe-- It is coming--it is nigh! Stand your homes and altars by, On your own free threshold die! Clang the bells in all your spires, On the grey hills of your sires Fling to heaven your signal fires! Oh! for God and duty stand, Heart to heart, and hand to hand, Round the old graves of the land. Who so shrinks or falters now, Who so to the yoke would bow, Brand the craven on his brow. Freedom’s soil has only place For a free and fearless race-- None for traitors false and base. Perish party--perish clan, Strike together while you can, Like the strong arm of one man. Like the angel’s voice sublime, Heard above a world of crime, Crying for the end of Time. With one heart and with one mouth Let the North speak to the South; Speak the word befitting both. In contrast with this, I will cite a poem, which might be called, not inappropriately, THE VOICE OF THE SOUTH. Rebels! ’tis a holy name! The name our fathers bore, When battling in the cause of Right Against the tyrant in his might, In the dark days of yore. Rebels! ’tis our family name! Our father, Washington, Was the arch rebel in the fight, And gave the name to us--aright Of father unto son. Rebels! ’tis our given name! Our mother Liberty Received the title with her fame, In days of grief, of fear and shame, When at her breast were we. Rebels! ’tis our sealed name! A baptism of blood! The war--ay, and the din of strife-- The fearful contest, life for life-- The mingled crimson flood! Rebels! ’tis a patriot’s name! In struggles it was given; We bore it then when tyrants raved, And through their curses ’twas engraved On the doomsday book of heaven.