will drain our dearest veins,
But they _shall_ be free!"

He emphasized the word _shall_, and brought his clenched hand down
upon the table so forcibly, that the shade over the gas-light shook.

In the midst of it, Mrs. Delano stole out of the room. She had a great
respect and liking for Mr. Bright, but he was sometimes rather too
demonstrative to suit her taste. He was too much carried away with
enthusiasm to notice her noiseless retreat, and he went on to the
conclusion of his song with unabated energy. All earnestness is
magnetic. Mr. and Mrs. Blumenthal, and even the children, caught his
spirit. When the song ended, Mr. Blumenthal drew a long breath, and
said: "One needs strong lungs to accompany you, Mr. Bright. You sang
that like the tramp of a regiment."

"And you blazed away like an explosion of artillery," rejoined he.

"The fact is," replied Blumenthal. "the war spirit pervades the air,
and I've caught it. I'm going to join the army."

"Are you?" exclaimed Mr. Bright, seizing his hand with so tight a grip
that it made him wince. "I hope you'll be my captain."

Mr. Blumenthal rubbed his hand, and smiled as he said, "I pity the
Rebel that you get hold of, Mr. Bright."

"Ask your pardon. Ask your pardon," rejoined he. "But speaking of the
tramp of a regiment, here it goes!" And he struck up "John Brown's
Hallelujah." They put their souls into it in such a manner, that the
spirit of the brave old martyr seemed marching all through it.

When it came to a conclusion, Mr. Bright remarked: "Only to think how
that incendiary song is sung in Boston streets, and in the parlors
too, when only little more than a year ago a great mob was yelling
after Wendell Phillips, for speaking on the anniversary of John
Brown's execution. I said then the fools would get enough of slavery
before they'd done with it; and I reckon they're beginning to find it
out, not only the rowdies, but the nabobs that set 'em on. War ain't
a blessing, but it's a mighty great teacher; that's a fact. No wonder
the slavites hated Phillips. He aims sure and hits hard. No use in
trying to pass off shams upon _him_. If you bring him anything that
ain't real mahogany, his blows'll be sure to make the veneering fly.
But I'm staying too long. I only looked in to tell you I was going."
He glanced round for Mrs. Delano, and added: "I'm afraid I sung too
loud for that quiet lady. The fact is, I'm full of fight."

"That's what the times demand," replie