Then President Lincoln gave Governor Andrew of Massachusetts permission to raise two colored regiments. The day the news broke, Douglass came home waving his paper in the air. Anna’s face blanched. Up from the table rose her two sons, Lewis and Charles. “We’ll be the first!” They dashed off to sign up. Young Frederic was in Buffalo that morning. When he got back, he heard where they had gone, and turned to follow them. “Wait! Wait!” The mother’s cry was heartbroken. His father too said, “Wait.” Then Douglass explained. “This is only the first, my son. We’ll have other regiments. There will be many regiments before the war is won. We must recruit black men from every state in our country--South as well as North.” He looked at his tall son and sighed. “Unfortunately, I am known. I would be stopped before I could reach them in the South. Here is a job for some brave man.” They faced each other calmly, father and son, and neither was afraid. “I understand, sir. I will go!” A few evenings later, before an overflow audience at Corinthian Hall in Rochester, Frederick Douglass delivered an address which may be placed beside Patrick Henry’s in Virginia. It appeared later in leading journals throughout the North and West under the caption “Men of Color, to Arms!” “Action! Action, not criticism, is the plain duty of this hour. Words are now useful only as they stimulate to blows. The office of speech now is only to point out when, where, and how to strike to the best advantage.” This was Douglass the spellbinder, Douglass, who had lifted thousands cheering to their feet in England, Ireland, and Scotland. “From East to West, from North to South, the sky is written all over ‘Now or Never.’ Liberty won by white men alone would lose half its luster.... Who would be free themselves must strike the blow.” The applause swept across the country. White men read these words and were shamed in their prejudices; poor men read them and thanked God for Frederick Douglass; black men read them and hurried to recruiting offices. They were in the crowd on Boston Common the morning the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts marched away--a father and a mother come to see their two sons off to war. Douglass was not thinking of the credit due him for the formation of the first Negro regiment. He was remembering how Lewis had always wanted a pony and the way Charlie always left his shoes in the middle of the floor, to be stumbled over. He tried to stay the trembling in Anna’s arm by pressing it close to his side. He wished he had somehow managed to get that pony. The soldiers were standing at ease in the street when Charlie saw her. He waved his hand, and though he did not yell, she saw his lips form the words, “Hi, Mom!” She saw him nudge his brother and then-- They were marching, holding their colors high, the sun glinting on polished bayonets and reflected in their eyes. They marched away behind their gallant Captain Shaw, and as they went they sang a song: