the pledge is given, then lower it to the side. While thus standing, all will unite in singing our National Hymn, "My Country, 'tis of Thee."

In some schools where the children are quite small, the silent salute is practised, as follows:-At a signal from the teacher, as the flag reaches its station by the teacher's desk, every little one will raise his hand, palm downward, to a horizontal position, tip of front finger touching the forehead and hold it there while the flag is "dipped" and returned to a vertical position. Then at a second signal, the hand is lowered to the side. This silent salute. corresponds pretty nearly to the military and naval salute to the flag.

2. Some have thought that in schools where the children are too young to understand the meaning of the words allegiance and indivisible, a simpler form of pledge should be given, as follows:

"We give our heads and our hearts to God and our Country,-One Country, One Language, One Flag."

After the color-bearer has brought forth the flag, at a signal from the teacher every pupil will stand erect in his place and give the pledge and salute in this manner :—

1. Extend the right arm and point toward the flag.

2. Bring the tips of the fingers to the forehead, saying, We give our heads—

3. Bring the hand over the heart, saying, And our hearts4. Raise the hand, point and look upward, and say, To God— 5. Drop the hand to the side, repeating. And our Country— 6. Standing erect, repeat, One Country, One Language, One Flag.

7. When saying One Flag, advance the right foot, bend the body slightly forward, extend the arm and point to the flag.

8. Lowering the hand to the side, all sing a stanza of America, or some other patriotic song.

The effectiveness of the flag salute must depend very much upon the spirit in which it is given, and this spirit must depend very much, as all school exercises do, upon the spirit of the teacher. If this is done in the spirit of true patriotism, it will, I am sure, beget in the hearts of the pupils a love for the Stars and Stripes and all they symbolize.

-H. W. Rood.

The grass will grow where the warrior fell,
And sweet wild flowers may bloom
On the very turf once blackened and burned
By the fearful fires of doom.

But the smiling summers, that come and go,
Can never, never heal

The bleeding bosoms which felt to-day
Something sharper than steel.

"Mortally wounded!" oh, dread War!
Many a victim is thine,

Save those who hear your terrible voice
Go thundering along the line!

If we give proud names and echoing hymns,
And build up monuments grand

To the gallant spirits who suffer and fall
In defence of their native land;

Let us yield a tenderer tribute still,

Sad tears and a pitying sigh,

To the uncrowned martyrs who silently sink,

And die when their heroes die.

—From “The Picket Line.” By permission of Hurst & Co.

Keep the Camp Fire Burning.

Is the Camp-fire burning low?

Is the faith of long ago

To doubt and sadness turning?
Bring again the war-time cheer;
Banish doubt, distrust, and fear,
And keep the Camp-fire burning.

Not for show, nor self nor place:
Not in strife to win the race:

Unworthy motives spurning,
Help thy comrade on the way,
Guard the Standard well today,
And keep the Camp-fire burning.

What though others may deny
That for which men dared to die?

True hearts, the right discerning,
Through the years will vigil keep
Round the graves where heroes sleep,
And keep the Camp-fire burning.

All the glory and the gain;

All the gladness, all the pain;

In memory returning:

Battles fought against the wrong,

Told in story and in song,

Will keep the Camp-fire burning.

-From "Ballads in War and Peace," by J. H. Whitney.

Γ

A Toast to the Vice-Admiral.

Now gallant friends and shipmates all,
Since half our battle's won,

A broadside for our Admiral!

Load every crystal gun!

Stand ready till I give the word-
You won't have time to tire—
And when that glorious name is heard,
Then let the main deck fire!

Bow foremost sinks the rebel craft,
Our eyes not sadly turn

And see the pirates huddling aft

To drop their raft astern;

Soon o'er the sea-worm's destined prey
The lifted wave shall close-

So perish from the face of day

All Freedom's banded foes!

But ah! what splendors fire the sky!
What glories meet the morn!

The storm-tossed banner streams on high,
Its heavenly hues new born!

Its red fresh dyed in heroes' blood,
Its peaceful white more pure,
To float unstained o'er field and flood
While earth and seas endure!

All shapes that feel the living blast
Must glide from mortal view—
Black roll the billows of the past
Behind the present's blue-

Fast, fast are lessening in the light

The names of high renown

Van Tromp's proud besom pales from sight, Old Benbow's half hull down!

Scarce one tall frigate walks the sea

Or skirts the safer shores,

Of all that bore to victory

Our stout old Commodores;

Hull, Bainbridge, Porter-where are they?
The answering billows roll

Still bright in memory's sunset ray-
God rest each gallant soul!

A brighter name must dim their light
With more than noon-tide ray-

The Viking of the River Fight,
The Conqueror of the bay!

For others shape the marble form,
The molten image cast;

But paint him in the battle-storm,

Lashed to his flag-ship's mast.

Now then, your broadside, shipmates all,
With grape well loaded down!

May garlands filled with sunshine fall

To gild his silvered crown!

I give the name that fits him best

Ay, better than his own—

The Sea King of the Sovereign West,

Who made his mast a throne.

-Oliver Wendell Holmes.

Read by the author at a dinner to Admiral Farragut, 1865.