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In this season of fair weather it is natural that your eyes should look back across the sea to the ancient Motherland, from whom you were for a time divided by clouds of misunderstanding that have now melted away into the blue. Between you and her there is now an affection and a sympathy such as perhaps there never was before in the days of your political connection. To-day she rejoices with you in your prosperity and your unity. She is proud of you, and among her many achievements there is none of which she is more proud than this, that she laid the foundation of your vast and splendid republic

Could the ancient Motherland, with her recollections of fourteen centuries of national life and seven centuries of slow but steady constitutional development, send to her mighty daughter a better message than this old message: "Cherish alike and cherish together liberty and law. They are always inseparable. Without liberty, there is no true law. . . Without law and order there is no true liberty, for anarchy means that the rights of the gentle and weak are overriden by the violent.

"In the union of ordered liberty, with a law gradually remoulded from age to age to suit the changing needs of the people, there has lain, and there will always lie, the progress and the peace both of England and of America."

Right Hon. James Bryce. In Tercentenary Address delivered at Jamestown Island May 13, 1907.


Aitoel of the pathless woodland!

Daring, dusky little maid!
With hair as black as blackest midnight,

Eyes the same Egyptian shade—
What a debt we owe to you, Dear!

One that ne'er can be repaid.

Long ago, when cruel war-chiefs

In bloodthirsty council sat,
You performed your little stunt, Dear.

If it had not been for that,
Prithee, tell me, dark-eyed Princess,

Where, O where would we be at?

To-day you would be called "Buttinsky"—
Thus be known to modern fame

Or else, "Johnny-on-the-Spot," Dear,
Now would be your honored name.

Your charms, of course, would be snapshotted,
But we'd love you just the same.

To your eyes we drink a toast, Dear—

To your heart so brave and true;
To your voice, so sweet, so pleading—

Little feet and fingers, too!
We'd not have no Exposition.
Pretty Princess, but for you I

Mtbiam Sheffet. Bristol, Tennessee.


We stand beneath old spires beyond the seas
And hearken to the thrilling tale they tell
Of aspiration, self-devotion, well

Wrought tasks, and penitents upon their knees.

But ah, the tale of lust and cruel ease,
Of bigotry and pride that tolled the knell
Of liberty and light and truth! The fell

Relentless hands that stifled piteous pleas!
But thou, oh simple ruin upon this isle,
Dost weave a tale whose every thread is fair.
Thy sun that rose upon the darkling way

Has faltered never, creeping up the dial,
And now its splendid rays shine everywhere,
Proclaiming liberty and peace for aye!

William Alexandrr Barr. Norfolk.



Where the early settlers sank upon their knees to beg protection, guidance and help of a Divine Providence, we in this commercial age forget our sordid cares and bow our heads in reverence for him who hewed his way into a new world to make a happier abiding place for his children; reverence for this ruin that tells of another generation's faith and dependence on Almighty God.

Who shall say we are not better for the pilgrimage t

John T. Maqinnis. Norfolk.

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