And so, by our love

For you, floating above,

And the scars of all wars and the sorrows thereof,
Who gave you the name of Old Glory, and why

Are we thrilled at the name of Old Glory?
Then the old banner leaped, like a sail in the blast,
And fluttered an audible answer at last.

And it spake, with a shake of the voice, and it said:-
“By the driven snow-white and the living blood-red
Of my bars, and their Heaven of stars overhead-
By the symbol conjoined of them all, skyward cast,
As I float from the steeple, or flap at the mast,
Or droop o'er the sod where the long grasses nod,-
My name is as old as the glory of God.

So I came by the name of Old Glory."

-James Whitcomb Riley

Questions: Who addresses the flag? Does the knowledge that this poem was written in 1898-the year of our war with Spain-help you to understand the third line? Does the sight of the flag bring to you clear pictures from the history of our country? Are these pictures as clear as the one that Liberty Bell brings to your mind? Do you know what each of the colors in our flag symbolizes? How has the poet placed our religion and our patriotism hand in hand?

CONCORD HYMN

(This hymn was sung in 1836 at the completion of the famous Battle Monument. This monument stands at one end of Concord Bridge and a statue of "The Minute-Man" at the other. The Battle Monument bears this inscription: "Here on the 19th of April, 1775, was made the first forcible resistance to British aggression. On the opposite bank stood the American Militia. Here stood the Invading Army: and on this spot the first of the Enemy fell in the war of that Revolution which gave Independence to these United States. In gratitude to God and in the love of Freedom this Monument was erected A. D. 1836.")

B

Y THE rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,

Here once the embattled° farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept,

Alike the Conquerer silent sleeps,

And Time the ruined bridge has swept

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone,

That memory may their deed redeem,
When like our sires our sons are gone.

Spirit! who made those freemen dare
To die, or leave their children free,
Bid time and nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and Thee.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Words: embattled-arrayed for battle; votive-memorial; siresfathers; shaft-column (the monument).

Questions: Can you suggest why the third and fourth lines of the first stanza have become the most famous passage-the one most frequently quoted-in this poem? Is the spirit of this hymn warlike or peaceful? What does the poet say is the purpose of the monument?

A SECOND TRIAL1

T WAS commencement at one of our colleges. The people were pouring into the church as I entered it, rather tardy. Finding the choice seats in the center of the audience-room already taken, I pressed forward, looking to the right and to the left for a vacancy. On the very front row of seats I found one.

Here a little girl moved along to make room for me, looking into my face with large gray eyes, whose brightness was softened by very long lashes. Her face was open and fresh as a newly blown rose before sunrise. Again and again I found my eyes turning to the rose-like face, and each time. the gray eyes moved half-smiling to meet mine. Evidently the child was ready to "make up" with me. And when, with a bright smile she returned my dropped handkerchief, and I said "Thank you," we seemed fairly introduced.

Other persons now coming into the seat, crowded me quite close up against the little girl, so that we soon felt very well acquainted.

"There's going to be a great crowd," she said to me. "Yes," I replied; "people always like to see how schoolboys are made into men.

Her face beamed with pleasure and pride as she said: "My brother's going to graduate; he's going to speak; I've brought these flowers to throw to him."

They were not greenhouse favorites; just old-fashioned domestic flowers, such as we associate with the dear grandmother; "but," I thought, "they will seem sweet and beautiful to him for little sister's sake."

"That is my brother," she went on, pointing with her

nosegay.

1From Alderman's Classics Old and New-Fourth Reader. Copyrighted by the American Book Company.

"The one with the light hair?" I asked.

"Oh, no," she said, smiling and shaking her head in innocent reproof; "not that homely one; that handsome one with brown wavy hair. His eyes look brown, too; but they are not-they are dark-blue. There! he's got his hand up to his

head now. You see him, don't you?"

In an eager way she looked from me to him, and from him to me, as if some important fate depended upon my recognizing her brother.

"I see him," I said. "He's a very good-looking brother." "Yes, he is beautiful," she said, with artless° delight; "and he's so good, and he studies so hard. He has taken care of me ever since mamma died. Here is his name on the program. He is not the valedictorian, but he has an honor, for all that." I saw in the little creature's familiarity with these college terms that she had closely identified herself with her brother's studies, hopes, and successes.

"His oration is a good one, and he says it beautifully. He has said it to me a great many times. I almost know it by heart. Oh! it begins so pretty and so grand. This is the way it begins," she added, encouraged by the interest she must have seen in my face: 'Amid the permutations and combinations of the actors and the forces which make up the great kaleidoscope of history, we often find that a turn of Destiny's hand-'

666

"Why, bless the baby!" I thought, looking down into her bright proud face. I can't describe how very odd and elfish it did seem to have those big words rolling out of the smiling childish mouth.

As the exercises progressed, and approached nearer and nearer the effort on which all her interest was concentrated,° my little friend became excited and restless. Her eyes grew larger and brighter, two deep-red spots glowed on her cheeks. "Now, it's his turn," she said, turning to me a face in which pride and delight and anxiety seemed about equally