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Updated: May 21, 2025
She was smiling; her eyes were sparkling with a hospitable and kindly interest in us, while I felt, on my part, that thrill of curiosity that one always has when he meets some celebrated person for the first time curiosity no less keen than if I were to meet Barbara Frietchie.
The wounded soldier sprang from his couch; the nun came nearer, with a quick light in her eye; Leslie Goldthwaite, in her mob cap, quilted petticoat, big-flowered calico train, and high-heeled shoes; two or three supernumeraries, in Rebel gray, with bayonets, coming on in "Barbara Frietchie;" and Sir Charles, bouncing out from somewhere behind, to the great hazard of the frame of lights, huddled together upon the stage and consulted.
Betsy was to recite Barbara Frietchie, her first love in that school, but she droned it over with none of her usual pleasure, her eyes on little 'Lias's smiling face, so unconscious of its dinginess. At noon time the boys disappeared down toward the swimming-hole. They often took a swim at noon and nobody thought anything about it on that day.
During the war Frederick was quietly a "rebel town," but it contained one good patriot besides Barbara Frietchie. This loyal Mr. B , when he received favorable news from the Northern army, or whenever his patriotism had need of bubbling over, regularly made a pilgrimage to Key's grave, and there, standing at the head of it, exultantly and conscientiously sang through the whole of Key's song.
These expectations were not realized. The majority sympathized with Barbara Frietchie, "Bravest of all in Frederick town," rather than with their self-styled deliverers; and Lee lost more by desertion from his own ranks than he gained in volunteers.
Then one great cheer broke forth, and was prolonged to three. "Not be Barbara Frietchie!" Leslie would not have missed that thrill for the finest beauty-part of all. For the applause that was for the flag, of course, as Ginevra Thoresby said.
Whereupon, like Barbara Frietchie of old, this fine young Barbara caught up the banner she loved, and went on waving the news that might save her country, while a hundred German soldiers fired at her. And presently a wonderful thing happened.
Jo and Ellen and I read Barbara Frietchie out here a few weeks ago, and they've wanted it every day or two, since." "We won't leave anything for the schools to do," said little Mrs. Brown. "All the better," Mrs. Burgoyne said, cheerfully. "Well, excuse me!" Mrs. Lloyd, holding the linen cuff she was embroidering at arm's length, and studying it between half-closed lids.
He was full, in those days, of raw enthusiasms, which he forced on any one who would listen when his first shyness had worn off. You can't picture him spouting sentimental poetry, can you? Yet I've seen him petrify a whole group of Mrs. Lanfear's callers by suddenly discharging on them, in the strident drawl of Western New York, "Barbara Frietchie" or "The Queen of the May."
We passed the grave of Barbara Frietchie over which waved the flag she so dearly loved, and in a twinkling came the answer to the eager questioner of bronze, as the west wind caught the lovely banner and waved it, oh, so gently, over this hallowed spot. A robin repeated his evening song softly from a maple near it, and a mourning dove began his meditative cooing.
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