Eagles which Cæsar's hand had fed,
Banners which Charlemagne had led
A thousand years before,

A dozing empire meanly gave
To grace a court or serve a slave;
Let Brunswick and the Landgrave wave
Their banners on our shore.
Brunswick and Hesse basely sold
Eagle and flag for George's gold;
And in the storm of war,

In crash of battle, thick and dark,
Beneath the rifle-shot of Stark,

The war-worn staves, the crests of gold,
The 'scutcheons proud, the storied fold,
In surges of defeat were rolled !—
So, even Roman banners fall

To screen the time-stains on our wall!

Beneath the war-flags' faded fold
I see our sovereigns of old

On magic canvas there.

The tired face of "baby Charles "
Looks sadly down from Pilgrim walls,

Half pride and half despair,
Doubtful to flatter or to strike,

To cozen or to dare.

His steel-clad charger he bestrides,

As if to smite the Ironsides,

When Rupert with his squadron rides;

Yet, such his gloomy brow and eye,

You wonder if he will not try
Once more the magic of a lie

To lift him from his care.

Hold still your truncheon! If it moves, The ire of Cromwell's rage it braves! For the next picture shows

The grim Protector on his steed,

Ready to pray, to strike, to lead,—

Dare all for England, which he saves, New England, which he loves.

These are Vandyck's. "Tis Kneller there
Has pictured a more peaceful pair:
There Orange gives his last command,
The Charter gives to Mather's hand;
And, blooming there, the queenly she
Who takes, "now counsel, and now tea,"
Confounding Blenheim and Bohea,
Careless of war's alarm.

Yet, as of old, the virgin Queen,
When armed for victory, might press
The smoky firelock of "Brown Bess,"
So Anna, in a fond caress,

Rests on a black "Queen's arm."

Beneath those forms another band,
Silent, but eloquent, shall stand.
There is no uttered voice nor speech
As still of liberty they teach;
No language and no sound is heard,
Yet still the everlasting word
Goes forth to thrill the land.

Story and Greenough shall compel
The silent marble form to tell
The lesson that they told so well—
Lessons of Fate and Awe;

Franklin still point the commonplace

Of Liberty and Law.

Adams shall look in Otis' face
Blazing with Freedom's soul,
And Molyneux see Hancock trace
The fatal word which frees a race,

There, in New England's well-earned place,
The head of Freedom's roll.

VIII.

THE ISLANDS AND THE FORTS.

PERHAPS mamma will be afraid of being upset in a boat and drowned. Perhaps she will be afraid that the boys and girls will be.

But if not--if mamma and papa are both disposed to take a comfortable boat, with a skillful skipper, at one of the boat landings— I will tell you of a very pleasant excursion which you may make, all of you, and you shall come home safe, and you shall thank me for giving you the hint.

I should say that as good a way to begin as any, would be to take one of the street cars which goes out to the eastern end of South Boston. If you find you are in another South Boston car, transfer into something which will take you to the Marine Park at City Point. There let papa look

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