And makes that dismal, headachy noise And wears a shawl and a soft kid glove; And a bonnet with feathers, and ribbons, and loops, "None of your patent machines for me, Or to do up your collars and things so nice. But flesh and blood! Hear that, my boy? You needn't keep winking so hard at the wall: Each of the Four Numbers of "100 Choice Selections" contained in this volume is paged separately, and the Index is made to correspond therewith. See EXPLANATION on first page of Contents. The entire book contains nearly 1000 pages. 100 CHOICE SELECTIONS No. 22. FOURTH OF JULY.-GEORGE W. BETHUNE. Maine, from her farthest border, gives the first exulting shout, And from New Hampshire's granite heights, the echoing peal rings out; The mountain faims of staunch Vermont prolong the thun. dering call, And Massachusetts answers, "Bunker Hill"-a watch word for us all. Rhode Island shakes her sea-wet locks, acclaiming with the free, And staid Connecticut breaks forth in joyons harmony. roar, Is heard from Hudson's crowded banks to Erie's crowded shore. Still on the booming volley rolls o'er plains and flowery glades To where the Mississippi's flood the turbid gulf invades; There, borne from many a mighty stream upon her might ier tide, Come down the swelling, long huzzas from all that valley wide. And wood-crowned Alleghany's call, from all her summits high, Reverberates among the rocks that pierce the sunset sky; While on the shores and through the swales round the vast inland seas, The stars and stripes, midst freemen's songs, are flashing to the breeze. 7 The woodsman, from the mother, takes his boy upon his knee, And tells him how their fathers fought and bled for liberty. The lonely hunter sits him down the forest spring beside, To think upon his country's worth, and feel his country's pride; While many a foreign accent, which our God can understand, Is blessing Him for home and bread in this free, fertile land. Yes, when upon the eastern coast we sink to happy rest, The Day of Independence rolls still onward to the west, Till dies on the Pacific shore the shout of jubilee, That woke the morning with its voice along the Atlantic Sea. O God, look down upon the land which thou hast loved so well, And grant that in unbroken truth her children still may dwell; Nor, while the grass grows on the hill and streams flow through the vale, May they forget their fathers' faith, or in their covenant fail: Keep, God, the fairest, noblest land that lies beneath the sun, “Our country, our whole country, and our country ever one." A VISION.-MRS. E. M. II. GATES. I had a vision. All the years Of all the ages, had been told; And earth, among the rolling spheres, Came new commandment, and she heard Above me, the familiar blue, Like burning scroll, had fled away,-- |