It is for these reasons that I like to see the flags of the war for the integrity of the Union carried through the streets in the hands of our veterans upon fête days. Those precious war-banners, bullet-riddled, battle-stained, many of them but remnants of their former selves, with scarcely enough left of them on which to imprint the names of the battles they had seen. Every tattered shred which flutters in the breeze is an object lesson in patriotism. The youth of the land should be made to feel that their country's flag is to be their pillar of cloud by day, their pillar of fire by night; that it is to wave above them in victory, be their rallying-point in defeat, and if, perchance, they offer up their lives a sacrifice in its defense, its crimson stripes will mingle with their generous heart's blood; its gentle folds will rest upon their bosom in death; its very presence there upon their bodies, coffined or uncoffined, will write a more enduring epitaph than that on the sarcophagus in which the great Sesostris sleeps.

That flag should be kept everywhere in view. It is particularly necessary in a land like this, in which there are so many who have been reared under foreign flags, and who cannot be made too familiar with the flag of the great Republic. I think there would be nothing more grateful to the hearts of the American people than to have it ordained by national and State enactment that the flag of the country should be hoisted over every Government building, every public place, every prominent memorial, and especially over every schoolhouse-kept there by day and by night, through calm and through storm, and never hauled down. At the beginning of our last war a rallying cry rang throughout the land, which quickened every pulse, which made the blood tingle in the veins of every loyal citizen-a rallying cry which we cannot too often repeat: "If any man hauls down the American flag, shoot him on the spot."

THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW

By ROBERT TRAIL SPENCE LOWELL, Clergyman, Author, Poet. Born in Boston, Mass., 1816; died 1891.

Oh! that last day in Lucknow fort;

We knew that it was the last,

That the enemy's mines had crept surely in,
And the end was coming fast.

To yield to that foe meant worse than death,
And the men and we all worked on;
It was one day more of smoke and roar,
And then it would all be done.

There was one of us, a corporal's wife,
A fair young gentle thing,

Wasted with fever in the siege,

And her mind was wandering.

She lay on the ground, in her Scottish plaid,

66

And I took her head on my knee;

When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," she said, Oh! please then waken me.

She slept like a child on her father's floor,

In the flecking of woodbine shade,

When the house-dog sprawls by the half-open door,
And the mother's wheel is stayed.

It was smoke and roar and powder-stench,
And hopeless waiting for death;

But the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child,

Seemed scarce to draw her breath.

I sank to sleep and I had my dream
Of an English village lane

And wall and garden-till a sudden scream
Brought me back to the roar again.

There Jessie Brown stood listening,
And then a broad gladness broke
All over her face, and she took my hand,
And drew me near and spoke:

"The Highlanders! Oh, dinna ye hear
The slogan far awa'?

The McGregor's? Ah! I ken it weel;
It's the grandest of them a'.

"God bless thae bonny Highlanders;
We're saved! we're saved!" she cried;
And fell on her knees, and thanks to God
Poured forth like a full flood tide.

Along the battery line her cry

Had fallen among the men;

And they started; for they were there to die— Was life so near them then?

They listened, for life; and the rattling fire
Far off, and the far-off roar

Were all, and the colonel shook his head,
And they turned to their guns once more.

Then Jessie said, "That slogan's dune,
But can ye no hear them, noo?

The Campbells are comin'! It's nae a dream,
Our succors hae broken through!"'

We heard the roar and the rattle afar,
But the pipes we could not hear;

So the men plied their work of hopeless war,
And knew that the end was near.

It was not long ere it must be heard,
A shrilling, ceaseless sound;
It was no noise of the strife afar,
Or the sappers under ground.

It was the pipes of the Highlanders,

And now they played "Auld Lang Syne "'; It came to our men like the voice of God; And they shouted along the line.

And they wept and shook one other's hands,
And the women sobbed in a crowd;
And every one knelt down where we stood,
And we all thanked God aloud.

That happy day, when we welcomed them in, Our men put Jessie first;

And the General took her hand; and cheers From the men like a volley burst.

And the pipers' ribbons and tartan streamed, Marching round and round our line;

And our joyful cheers were broken with tears, As the pipes played "Auld Lang Syne."

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY

By HENRY CABOT LODGE, Lawyer, Editor, Author; Member of Congress from Massachusetts, 1886-93; Senator, 1893—. Born in Boston, Mass., 1850.

Taken, by permission of the author, from a speech made at the dinner to Robert E. Lee Camp of Confederate Veterans, in Boston, June 17, 1887. See "Speeches of Henry Cabot Lodge," copyright, 1892, by H. C. Lodge, published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston.

I do not stand up in this presence to indulge in any mock sentimentality. You brave men who wore the gray would be the first to hold me or any other son of the North in just contempt if I should say that, now it was all over, I thought the North was wrong and the result of the war a mistake, and that I was prepared to suppress my political opinions. I believe most profoundly that the war on our side was eternally right, that our victory was the salvation of the country, and that the results of the war were of infinite benefit to both North and South. But, however we differed, or still differ, as to the causes for which we fought then, we accept them as settled, commit them to history, and fight over them no more. To the men who fought the battles of the Confederacy we hold out our hands freely, frankly, and gladly. To courage and faith wherever shown we bow in homage with uncovered heads. We respect and honor the gallantry and valor of the brave men who fought against us, and who gave their lives and shed their blood in defense of what they believed to be right. We rejoice that the famous general whose name is borne upon your banner was one of the greatest soldiers of modern times, because he, too, was an American. We have no bitter memories to revive, no reproaches to utter. Reconciliation is not to be sought, because it exists already. Differ in politics and in a thousand other ways we must and shall in all good-nature, but let us never differ with each other on sectional or State lines, by race or creed.