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And I say that the land that bears such sons is crowned

and dowered with all The dear God giveth nations to stay them lest they fall.

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Oh, glory of Mission Ridge, stream on, like the roseate

light of morn On the sons that now are living, on the sons that are yet

unborn! And cheers for our comrades living, and tears as they

pass away! And three times three for the Drummer Boy who fought

at the front that day!

THE PURITAN.

From an address delivered at the unveiling of the statue of The Pilgrim,

in Central Park, New York, June, 1885.

THE

NHE Puritan came to America seeking freedom to

worship God. He meant only freedom to worship God in his own way, not in the Quaker way, not in the Baptist way, not in the Church of England way. But the seed that he brought was immortal. His purpose was to feed with it his own barnyard fowl, but it quickened into an illimitable forest, covering a continent with grateful shade, the home of every bird that flies. Freedom to worship God is universal freedom, a free State as well as a free Church, and that was the inexorable but unconscious logic of Puritanism. Holding that the true rule of religious faith and worship was written in the Bible, and that every man must read and judge for himself, the Puritan conceived the Church as a body of independent scekers and interpreters of the truth, dispensing with priests and priestly orders and functions ; organizing itself and calling no man master. But this sense of equality before God and toward each other in the religious congregation, affecting and adjusting the highest and most eternal of all human relations, that of man to his Maker, applied itself instinctively to the relation of man to man in human society, and thus popular government flowed out of the Reformation, and the Republic became the natural political expression of Puritanism. Banished, moreover, by the pitiless English persecution, the Puritans, exiles and poor in a foreign land, a colony in Holland before they were a colony in America, were compelled to self-government, to a common sympathy and support, to bearing one another's burdens, and so by the stern experience of actual life they were trained in the virtues most essential for the fulfillment of their august but unimagined destiny. The patriots of the Continental Congress seemed to Lord Chatham imposing beyond the lawgivers of Greece and Rome. The Constitutional Convention a hundred years ago was an assembly so wise that its accomplished work is reverently received by continuous generations as the children of Israel received the tables of the law which Moses brought down from the holy mount. Happy, thrice happy, the people which to such scenes in their history can add the simple grandeur of the spectacle in the cabin of the Mayflower, the Puritans signing the compact which was but the formal expression of the Government that voluntarily they had established—the scene which makes Plymouth Rock a stepping-stone from the freedom of the solitary Alps and the disputed liberties of England to the fully developed, constitutional, and well-ordered Republic of the United States.

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Here in this sylvan seclusion, amid the sunshine and the singing of birds, we raise the statue of the Pilgrim, that in this changeless form the long procession of the generations which shall follow us may see what manner of man he was to the outward eye, whom history and tradition have so often flouted and traduced, but who walked undismayed the solitary heights of duty and of everlasting service to mankind. Here let him stand, the soldier of a free church, calmly defying the hierarchy, the builder of a free State serenely confronting the continent which he shall settle and subdue. The unspeaking lips shall chide our unworthiness, the lofty mien exalt our littleness, the unblenching eye invigorate our weakness, and the whole poised and firmly planted form reveal the unconquerable moral energy-the master force of American civilization. So stood the sentinel on Sabbath morning guarding the plain house of prayer while wife and child and neighbor worshiped within. So mused the pilgrim in the rapt sunset hour on the New England shore, his soul caught up into the dazzling vision of the future, beholding the glory of the Nation that should be. And so may that Nation stand forever and forever, the mighty guardian of human liberty, of Godlike justice, of Christlike brotherhood.

GEO. WILLIAM CURTIS.

THE CHILD IS FATHER TO THE MAN.

COME

YOME, Johnnie Miller, tak’ these doggies

Down to the burn and drown them a';
Step carefu' o'er the slippery pathway,

And mind ye dinna fa'.”

So spake the mistress : Johnnie Miller,

Reluctant, rose to do her will, And as he gathers up his burden, The tears his bonnie blue

eyes

fill.

Out of the house, across the meadows,

The little seven years' laddie passed; And slower still he walked, and slower,

Until he reached the stream at last.

Down on a stone he sat, and opened

His pladdie where the puppies lay,
And tearful watched their helpless tottering,

And stroked their glossy coats of gray.

And when, with quaint, black, wrinkled foreheads,

His hands they licked, and piteous cried, Seized with a sudden purpose, Johnnie Rose

up

and left the river's side.

He hugged the puppies to his bosom,

Wrapped in his pladdie soft and warm, And fast across the meadows hurried,

Till far behind he left the farm.

On, on he went; the air grew chilly,

And lower sank the setting sun;
Then twilight came, his feet grew weary,

The toilsome march was nearly done.

More fields he traversed; then a glimmer

Broke through the darkness-welcome sight, For 'twas the cottage of his mother,

And that red glow her evening light.

Joyfully at the door he rattled ;

Surprised, his mother opened wide; “My bairn," she cried, “what brings thee hither ?”

And drew him to the warm fireside.
He sobbed aloud : “Oh, mither, mither,"

And spread his load before her view“ I couldna' drown the little doggies,

So I hae brought them hame to you!"

PART II.

It was a stormy winter evening,

The moon above shone bright and clear; A ship, impatient, rode the waters,

That swept against the slippery pier. "Ready, my men !" the captain shouted.

A sailor from the pier-head threw The stiffened hawser-slipped-and staggering,

Fell down into the death gulf blue. No time for parley ; quick the captain

Threw off his jacket rough, and leapt
Over the ship's tall side; to seaward

Captain and man together swept.
He sank, then rose ; the drowning sailor

He grasped ! wild waves swept o'er the twain, And for a space all hope was ended ;

Then the strong swimmer rose again.
Bold stroke on stroke he backward struggled,

Perils behind him and before ;
All held their breath with fear and wonder,

Until he touched the pier once more.

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