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man, Hale, Heitfeld, Hoar, Jones, Ark.; Mallory, Martin, Mills, Mitchell, Money, Murphy, Pasco, Pettigrew, Rawlins, Roach, Smith, Tillman, Turley, Turner, Vest-27.

Absent and paired-Messrs. Cannon and Wilson for, with White against, and Messrs. Proctor and Wetmore for, with Mr. Turpie against. Politically analyzed the vote was as follows: Yeas-Republicans 43, Democrats 9, Populists and silverites 5. Nays-Republicans 2, Democrats 21, Populists and silverites 4.

The peace treaty was signed by President McKinley on February 10th.

Public sentiment throughout the country was greatly divided on the treaty and at one time its opponents felt sure of preventing ratification. One important factor in securing votes in favor of ratification was the news of the beginning of hostilities with the Filipinos on the previous day.

The treaty was presented to the Spanish Cortes, but was not ratified by that body. It was claimed that the Queen Regent and Sagasta had attempted to inject politics into the matter, hence the refusal of the Cortes to ratify.

Anticipating that it would be extremely doubtful to get the treaty ratified by the Cortes the American Commission required the insertion in the treaty of Article 17, that "the present treaty shall be ratified by the President of the United States by and with the advice and consent of the Senate thereof, and by her Majesty, the Queen Regent of Spain."

On March 16th the Queen Regent signed the decree dissolving the Cortes and on March 17, 1899, affixed her signature to the treaty of peace.

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Uncle Sam-"Well, sonny, what is it?"

Phil Ippines-"Where do I come in on this?"-Minneapolis Journal.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

POETRY OF THE WAR.

THE Spanish war was a great inspiration to the poets of the country and many stirring poems were the result. While many volumes would be required to publish them, some of the best and most appropriate are herewith presented.

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Ter sparkle in the sun;

He don't parade with gay cockade,
And posies in his gun;
He ain't no "pretty soldier boy,"

So lovely, spick and span;

He wears a crust of tan and dust,
The Reg'lar Army man;

The marchin', parchin',
Pipe-clay starchin',

Reg'lar Army man.

He ain't at home in Sunday-school,
Nor yet a social tea;

And on the day he gets his pay
He's apt ter spend it free;

He ain't no temp'rance advocate;

He likes ter fill the can;

He's kinder rough an', maybe, tough,

The Reg'lar Army man;

The rarin', tarin',
Sometimes swearin',

Reg'lar Army man.

No State'll call him "noble son!" He ain't no ladies' pet,

But let a row start anyhow,

They'll send for him, you bet! He don't cut any ice at all

In fash'n's social plan;

He gits the job ter face a mob, The Reg'lar Army man;

The millin', drillin',

Made for killin',
Reg'lar Army man.

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Weary marches and sinking ships; Days of plenty and years of peace March of a strong land's swift in

crease;

Equal justice, right and law,
Stately honor and reverend awe;
Sign of a nation great and strong,
To ward her people from foreign
wrong;

Pride and glory and honor, all
Live in the colors to stand or fall.
Hats off!

WHEELER AT SANTIAGO.

NTO the thick of the fight he went,

INTO pallid and sick and wan,

Borne in an ambulance to the front,

a ghostly wisp of a man; But the fighting soul of a fighting man, approved in the long ago, Went to the front in that ambulance, and the body of Fighting Joe.

Out from the front they were coming back, smitten of Spanish shells

Wounded boys from the Vermont

hills and the Alabama dells; "Put them into this ambulance; I'll ride to the front," he said, And he climbed to the saddle and rode right on, that little old ex-Confed.

From end to end of the long blue ranks rose up the ringing cheers,

And many a powder-blackened face was furrowed with sudden tears,

As with flashing eyes and gleaming sword, and hair and beard of

snow,

Into the hell of shot and shell rode little old Fighting Joe!

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IN

-James Lindsay Gordon.

BIRTH OF THE FLAG.

N THE camp where the heroes had gathered 'round Liberty's altar alight,

The Spirit of Freedom in anguish abode through the perilous night,

And the joy that is only a mother's, filled her heart at the burst of the mornEncradled in war's red manger-a

child among nations was born. Clasped in the arms that shall shield him, the suckling waxed lusty and fair,

Safe as the cub of a grizzly when the dam guards the mouth of the lair:

Grew in his strength and his beauty, grew in his pride and his worth

Pride of the mother that bore him, peer of the prides of the earth.

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