Baby Bears

       "In the winter, at the start of the new year," said daddy, "when Mother Bear was sleeping and dozing and dreaming in her home back in the hole of a big rock, the little bears arrived. She taught them about the berries they must eat and about the things which would make them feel well and strong. She also told them of the bad things they must not touch - the things which would make their little tummies feel very miserable indeed and which would make them quite, quite sick.
       ''And when, at last, they went out of the cave, and saw the real world, the trees and the forest paths, they wanted to start off at once for adventures, for the world looked so mysterious and wondrous.
       " 'Do you want to leave your old mother?' the black bear asked.
       " 'We love you, mother, but we want to see the world,' they said.
       " 'Bang,' suddenly went a gun and Mother Bear received a slight wound.
       ''The baby bears were around her in a flash, but mother bear was safe, for the man with the gun had hurriedly gone when he had seen how near the old bear was. And he had seen her teeth and had almost
been able to feel them!
       ''And the babies knew their teeth would never have done. They, too, had had a glimpse of their mother's anger and their mother's strength.
       ''And as they licked the wound they said,
       " 'We won't leave you, Mother Bear. We don't know the world as yet.'
       ''And Mother Black Bear groaned with the hurt from the slight wound in her shoulder, but still more she grunted with pleasure, for her babies had seen that they still needed their mother.'' 

More Bears To Color:

• Color the polar bears at the zoo
• Color-by-number: Bear Bone 
• These bears have their marching orders
  

Facts About Toucans

The Toucan

 Interesting Facts About Toucans:

1. In ornithology, it's genus is called Rhamphastos.
2. These birds are all natives of tropical America.
3. They are easily distinguished by their enormous bill.
4. Toucans are irregularly toothed along the margin of their mandibles.
5. All of these species live prefer to live in pairs.
6. Toucans love the shade of the forests.
7. They occasionally congregate in small parties with each other.
8. These birds do not approach human habitations when they have only lived in the wild.
9. They are generally covered with black feathers and the throat, breast and rump adorned in white, yellow and red.
10. Their bodies are short and thick. 
11. Their tails are rounded or even, varying in length among their species. 
12. They can turn their tail feathers up over their back when roosting.
13. Toucans may be easily tamed and live in confined spaces well, even in cold climates.

See Toucans:

• 10 Most Beautiful Toucans

 

Timmy Toucan's monstrous bill!

The interesting features of the stingray...

 A stingray is a fish allied to the rays proper, which are cartilaginous fish related to sharks. It has many distinct characteristics:

1. It is remarkable for it's long, flexible, whip-like tail, which is armed with a projecting bony spine.
2. The spine is very sharp at the point, and furnished along both edges with sharp cutting teeth.
3. Although most stingrays are found in tropical marine waters, one of the species is common on the East coast of North America and sometimes inflict serious wounds with their tails.
4. These fish are vulnerable to extinction due to unregulated fishing.
5. The flattened bodies of stingrays allow them to effectively hide or conceal themselves in their environments.
6. The stingray uses it's paired pectoral fins for moving about.
7. These fish come in a wide range of colors and patterns.
8. They feed primarily on mollusks and crustaceans.

Stingray pups prove that slimy 

can be cute by Animal Planet

The Rhyming Years

       "Well," said the Old Year, "I am going to make up a poem about myself. I feel quite poetical."

       "And," said the New Year, "I will, too." For the New Year didn't want to have the Old Year think that he was unable to do anything like that, even though he was young. But he felt very much pleased when the Old Year said: ''Though I have lived twelve whole months, I have not become a poet.''

       ''I think age should be given the right to speak first,'' said the New Year.

       The Old Year shook his white hair and smiled so that the wrinkles in his face all ran in together.

       This is what he said:

''Yes, it is true I was feeling old,

Yes, it is true I was also cold,

Yes, it is true I heard them cheer,

Welcoming in the glad New Year.''

       Then New Year recited this verse:

''Of course, you see I was out for fun,

My life has only just begun,

They said 'He is young and full of vim,

No one can help but welcome him.'

       "You mustn't think I am conceited," he added. "I say a lot to make my rhyme come out right."

       "Of course," said the Old Year, "for I do too. Well, I will give my second verse. Don't believe it all, though!" Then the Old Year took an old harp he had and he began to play and sing, and this was what he sang:

''And Poor Old Year - he almost wept

As he packed up his things and left.

But as he turned to say good-by,

Something in him made him cry:

'Though my work is mostly done,

I, have, too, had lots of fun,

And 'ere I go upon my way,

This I certainly would say:

'Happy New Year, big and small,

Happy New Year, short and tall,

Happy New Year, every one!

May you all have lots of fun!' "

A New Year's Party

        "Just because it was the first day of the year," said daddy,"and because parties were about the nicest things in the world to the mind of a little girl named Ella, her mother decided to give her one.

       "It certainly does seem like the first of the year, or the first of something," said Ella. 'It's a new day, a new year and we have new toys and new games. We are even going to have supper out of new dishes.'

       ''For among the presents Santa Claus had brought to Ella was a fine set of dishes. They were pink and white and there were six cups and saucers, six little plates, a teapot, sugar bowl and cream jug. It was really a very complete set.

       ''They had thin bread and butter, hot chocolate with whipped cream and a cake which Ella's mother called a New Year's cake. It was pink and white on the top with pink sugared trimmings on the white frosting.

       ''In the center of the cake was one pink candle, for Ella's mother said it would be quite impossible to have a candle for the number of years there had been, and too, it would be nice to have a new way and just consider the year a day old.

       ''After the cake had been almost entirely eaten they played house. Each little girl took a corner of the room as her house and fixed it up with some of Ella's things. They all had their own dolls and many

of their other toys so they really felt quite at home.

       ''Then they began calling on each other, dressing up in shawls and old hats which Ella's mother let them use. After a while they heard a flutter, flutter against the window pane, and then another little flapping sound.

       ''It's a little bird,' said Ella, as she looked out of the window. 'It's right on the sill, and I am dreadfully afraid it has hurt its wings. Poor little dear.'

       ''They opened the window and Ella took the little bird in her hands. Oh, how cold the little bird's feathers were!

       '' 'We'll take care of you,' said Ella. They gave the little bird some bread-crumbs and some water. Then he had a delicious piece of lettuce from the seeds which Ella had started in a box in her room.

       ''Pretty soon the bird began to grow much better and hopped and chirped about the room, and then they let him out for he had simply been very hungry.

       '' 'We'll put some suet in that tree over there,' said Ella.

       '' 'Let's put some bread-crumbs,' said her friends, and then one of them added,

       '' 'And let's give some of the New Year cake crumbs too.'

       ''So the little bird was given a regular New Year's feast, and Ella and her friends were among other children who decided to look after the feathered people through the cold months of the winter and to give them bread-crumbs and suet which they love so well.''

• Christmas for the birds...
• Fun things to do with your dolls on New Year's Day!

The Brave Little Sister

       ''There was once a little boy who had a young, little sister," said daddy. "He was very disappointed that his sister didn't care more for long walks and boys' games and that animals seemed to frighten her.

       "He used to scold her about it instead of helping her to get over her fear. One day these two children were taking a walk. They went into the country along a quiet road. They passed a little house in which lived an old woman who had a great many cats. She was very strange and her cats seemed to be strange too. Anyway, it was said that they hated people they didn't know.

       The little boy didn't believe this, and when his sister tried to hurry by the house, he laughed at her.

       "Oh, come and see this nice cat!" he said. And he tried to pick the cat up.

       "The cat objected to strangers, as all the people had said, and she started to scratch the little boy. With a cry his sister rushed to him. She grabbed the back of the cat and got him off. Then she cried ''Shoo!'' to the cat, which made him go right home, for he didn't care about hurting the little boy. He only would not be played with.

       " 'I shall never make fun of you again, sister,' he said. 'You saved me by taking off that cat, of which you were afraid. I have not been at all a nice brother to you, and I don't deserve such a good sister, for it was love for me that made you forget about your fear. But you may be quite sure I will never make fun of you in the future, for really you are the brave one.' ''

The Bravery Medal

       "Two children," said daddy, "were skating on a pond. It was a blustery, snowy afternoon, and they were the only ones on the ice.''

       "A big dog was taking a good run on this cold winter's day when he spied the children on the pond."

       ''He went down to the pond and ran across it a little way, but the ice had a bad way of creaking, and he was sure it was not so very firm.He decided that he had better stay around to see that nothing happened to the children.''

       ''He had been there but a moment or two when a terrific crack in the ice sounded. It gave way, and the two children fell through. The sheet of ice broke rapidly, and the water was soon clear for some distance around them.''

       ''Quickly the dog went to the rescue of the children and swam to the shore with them. He saw some people drive by in a sleigh on the road above, and he barked so frantically that they stopped to see what the trouble was. Then, of course, they drove the two children to their home. The big dog went along too. The hero simply said 'Bow-wow!' when later they fastened a medal on his collar. He wanted to tell them that he thought they were being very good to him, and he thanked them, but at the same time he was so modest that he didn't think he had been so brave. He felt any other dog would have done just the same, as he adored children.

The Pet Monkey

       "Once there was an old lady," said daddy, "who lived all alone.

       One day, though, she went to town and bought a pet monkey.

       She named him Niles. He was only seven inches long and had a curly tail. He was a very dark gray color. He proved to be a most expensive pet, for he liked all the most delicious fruits and would only eat his bread and rice when plenty of rich cream was poured over it. What fascinated him above all was the old lady's rings.

      "When the old lady saw how fond Niles was of jewels she took out her jewel box. Niles had the most glorious time playing with its contents. He decorated himself with all the beads and chains and bangles

and looked at himself in the mirror. He shook all over, for he liked the noise as well as the glitter of the jewels.

       ''So the old lady was very, very happy with her pet monkey. Niles was delighted with his new home and his new mistress, for he had never had jewels to play within the pet shop."

More About Silly Monkeys:

• Make a sock monkey for your 18" Doll...
• How to make a cute little monkey from a clothespin...
• The Animal Store

The Pink Cockatoo

        ''On the morning of the birthday of a little girl named Natalie,' said daddy, ''pink cockatoo was ready to greet her when she awoke. Well, you can imagine how happy Natalie was. And she kept saying over and over again:

       Oh, how lovely you are.' The cockatoo would raise up his pink crest on the top of his head at that - just as some people raise up their foreheads - only his crest went way, way higher. He did that whenever he felt like it, and he always felt like it when he was being talked to. ''And after a very short time the cockatoo was just as tame as could be and he seemed to grow more beautiful every day.

       ''Before long he began to talk just as a parrot will and follow Natalie around the house. He had his food out of special little pink dishes Natalie had given him to match his pink feathers, and every morning

he took his bath in a pink soup bowl which he thought was very fine indeed.

       ''Maybe you will think he got spoiled by so much fussing and attention, but he just became tamer and tamer every day. He learned many tricks and would often perform them for Natalie's friends.

       ''And when it came time for Natalie's next birthday she gave a party. On the invitation it said the party was being given by Natalie and the pink cockatoo. And in one corner was a little colored drawing Natalie had made of her cockatoo. When the cockatoo saw it he put his crest way up in the air, and said in a funny voice:

       ''Goodie, Natalie,' which was his pet name for his Mistress.

       ''And this is a truly true story, you know.''

More About Cockatoos:

• The Cockatoo
• Practice shading a rose-crested cockatoo
• The Cockatoo Primer Page

The Selfish Oyster Crabs

       You know, I think oyster-crabs are perhaps the most selfish of all the sea animals," began daddy. ''The oyster-crabs really belong to the crab family. They are called oyster-crabs, however, because above all things they love the juice of an oyster and absolutely live on it. And what I am going to tell you about now is the way they get it.

       "First of all, the oyster-crab hovers around the oysters and then picks out a nice, fat, juicy looking oyster, saying to himself: ''You look as if you could feed me well without any effort. I think I will crawl into your shell.' So then he crawls right inside the oyster's shell and proceeds to enjoy himself. He prefers just to 'sponge' on others, as the expression goes!" 

More About Oysters:

• Starfish love to eat oysters too!
• Your dolls can craft oysters on the half shell for a party...

Naughty Wind

       "The Clothespins on the line," said daddy, "were having a very jolly time."
       "I'll blow those clothes away," said the North Wind.
       "Oh, no you won't' said the Clothespins in chorus.
       "You are only little wooden things,' said the Wind. 'I am strong and powerful and can do just exactly as I like.'
       ''Now the Fairies saw that the Clothespins were doing their work so well that they thought they would like to help them, so they all perched on the line and began to sing:

'Heigh-ho, heigh-ho,

Let the North Wind blow,

The Clothes-Pins and we,

Will certainly see,

That the clothes will stay here.

The day's nice and clear,

The sun's good and strong,

And the wind is quite wrong.

To try such a trick,

But the Clothes-Pins will stick.'

       ''The Clothespins did stick to the line and the Fairies helped them, singing all the time. The Wind kept on blowing and tried his hardest to get the better of the Fairies, but he had no luck at all and the Clothespins won!''

More About Clothespins:

• The Clothes-Pin Dollies by Camilla J. Knight
• The Popover Family - series by Ethel Calvert Phillips
• Scout Clothespin Doll Crafts

Warren's Address

 WARREN'S ADDRESS
(At the Battle of Bunker Hill.)
BY JOHN PIERPONT

Stand! the ground's your own, my braves!
Will ye give it up to slaves?
Will ye look for greener graves?
Hope ye mercy still?
What's the mercy despots feel?
Hear it in that battle peal!
Read it on yon bristling steel!
Ask it, - ye who will!

Fear ye foes who kill for hire?
Will ye to your homes retire?
Look behind you! they're a-fire!
And, before you, see
Who have done it! - From the vale
On they come ! - and will ye quail?
Leaden rain and leaden hail
Let their welcome be!

In the God of battles trust!
Die we may, - and die we must;
But oh, where can dust to dust
Be consigned so well,
As where Heaven its dews shall shed
On the martyred patriot's bed.
And the rocks shall raise their head
Of his deeds to tell!

Columbia

 COLUMBIA
BY TIMOTHY DWIGHT
(Written during the author's services as an army chaplain,1777-78.)

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise.
The queen of the world, and the child of the skies ;
Thy genius commands thee ; with rapture behold,
While ages on ages thy splendor unfold !
Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time,
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime ;
Let the crimes of the East ne'er encrimson thy name.
Be freedom, and science, and virtue thy fame.

To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire ;
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire ;
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend,
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend ;
A world is thy realm : for a world be thy laws,
Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause;
On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise,
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies.

Fair science her gates to thy sons shall unbar,
And the east shall with mom hide the beams of her star.
New bards, and new sages, unrivaled shall soar
To fame unextinguished, when time is no more;
To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed,
Shall fly, from all nations the best of mankind ;
Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring
Their incense, more fragrant than odors of spring.

Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend,
And genius and beauty in harmony blend ;
The graces of form shall awake pure desire,
And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire ;
Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined,
The virtue's bright image, instamped on the mind.
With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow.
And light up a smile in the aspect of woe.

Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display,
The nations admire and the ocean obey ;
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold,
And the East and the South yield their spices and gold.
As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendor shall flow,
And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow ;
While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurled,
Hush the tumult of war and give peace to the world.

Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars overspread,
From war's dread confusion I pensively strayed.
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired;
The winds ceased to murmur ; the thunders expired ;
Perfumes as of Eden flowed sweetly along,
And a voice as of angels enchantingly sung:
Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
The queen of the world, and the child of the skies.''

The Battle of Trenton

 THE BATTLE OF TRENTON
(Dec. 26, 1776.)

On Christmas-day in seventy-six.
Our ragged troops with bayonets fixed.
For Trenton march away.
The Delaware see ! the boats below!
The light obscured by hail and snow!
But no signs of dismay.

Our object was the Hessian band,
That dared invade fair freedom's land,
And quarter in that place.
Great Washington he led us on,
Whose streaming flag, in storm or sun,
Had never known disgrace.

In silent march we passed the night.
Each soldier panting for the fight,
Though quite benumbed with frost.
Greene, on the left, at six began.
The right was led by Sullivan,
Who ne'er a moment lost.

The pickets stormed, the alarm was spread,
The rebels risen from the dead
Were marching into town.
Some scampered here, some scampered there.
And some for action did prepare ;
But soon their arms laid down.

Twelve hundred servile miscreants,
With all their colors, guns, and tents,
Were trophies of the day.
The frolic o'er, the bright canteen
In center, front, and rear was seen
Driving fatigue away.

Now brothers of the patriot bands,
Let's sing deliverance from the hands
Of arbitrary sway.
And as our life is but a span,
Let's touch the tankard while we can.
In memory of that day.

The Battle of Bunker Hill

       The advance of the British army was like a solemn pageant in its steady headway, and like a parade for inspection in the completeness of its outfit. It moved forward as if by the very force of its closely-knit columns it must sweep away every barrier in its path. Elated, sure of victory, with firm step, already quickened as the space of separation lessens, there is left but a few rods of interval, a few steps only, and the work is done! But right in their way was a calm, intense, and energizing love of liberty, represented by men of the same blood and of equal daring.
       A few shots impulsively fired, but quickly restrained, drew an innocent fire from the advancing column. But the pale men behind the scant defense, obedient to one will, answered not. . . . The left wing is near the redoubt It surely is' nothing to surmount a bank of fresh earth but six feet high; and its sands and clods can almost be counted, it is so near, so easy, sure! Short, crisp, and earnest, low-toned, but felt as an electric pulse from redoubt to river, are the words of a single man, Prescott Warren, by his side, repeats them. The word runs quickly along the impatient line. The eager fingers give back from the waiting trigger. Steady, men! Wait until you see the white of the eye! Not a shot sooner! Aim at the handsome coats! Aim at the waistbands! Pick off the officers! Wait for the word, every man! Steady!""
       Already those plain men, so patient, can count the buttons, can read the emblems on the belt-plate, can recognize the officers and men whom they have seen at parade on Boston Common. Features grow more and more distinct. The silence is awful ! These men seem breathless, - dead! It comes, that word, the word waited for - ''Fire!'' That word had waited behind the center and the left wing, where Putnam watched, as it lingered behind breastwork and redoubt. Sharp, clear, and deadly, in tone and essence, it rings forth, "Fire!"
       From redoubt to river, along the whole sweep of devouring flame, the forms of men wither as in a furnace heat. The whole front goes down. For an instant the chirp of the grasshopper and the cricket in the freshly-cut grass might almost be heard; then the groans of the suffering; then the shouts of impatient yeomen, who leap over obstacles to pursue until recalled to silence and to duty.
       Staggering but reviving, grand in the glory of their manhood, heroic in the fortitude which restores self-possession, with a steady step, in the face of fire and over the bodies of their dead, the remnant dare to renew battle. Again the deadly volley; and the shattered columns, in spite of entreaty or command, move back to the place of starting, and the first shock of battle is over.
       A lifetime when it is past seems but as a moment! A moment sometimes is as a lifetime. Onset and repulse! Three hundred lifetimes ended in twenty minutes!

The Lonely Bugle Grieves

THE LONELY BUGLE GRIEVES
BY GRENVILLE MELLEN

The trump hath blown,
And now upon that reeking hill
Slaughter rides screaming on the vengeful ball;
While with terrific signal shrill.
The vultures, from their bloody eyries flown.
Hang o'er them like a pall.
Now deeper roll the maddening drums,
And the mingling host like ocean heaves:
While from the midst a horrid wailing comes.
And high above the fight the lonely bugle grieves!

Ticonderoga

 TICONDEROGA
(May 10, 1775)
BY V. B. WILSON

The cold, gray light of the dawning
On old Carillon falls,
And dim in the mist of the morning
Stand the grim old fortress walls.
No sound disturbs the stillness
Save the cataract's mellow roar.
Silent as death is the fortress.
Silent the misty shore.

But up from the wakening waters
Comes the cool, fresh morning breeze
Lifting the banner of Britain,
And whispering to the trees
Of the swift gliding boats on the waters
That are nearing the fog-shrouded land.
With the old Green Mountain Lion,
And his daring patriot band.

But the sentinel at the postern
Heard not the whisper low;
He is dreaming of the banks of the Shannon
As he walks on his beat to and fro.
Of the starry eyes in Green Erin
That were dim when he marched away.
And a tear down his bronzed cheek courses, 

'Tis the first for many a day.

A sound breaks the misty stillness,
And quickly he glances around ;
Through the mist, forms like towering giants
Seem rising out of the ground ;
A challenge, the firelock flashes,
A sword cleaves the quivering air.
And the sentry lies dead by the postern.
Blood staining his bright yellow hair.

Then, with a shout that awakens
All the echoes of hillside and glen,
Through the low, frowning gate of the fortress,.
Sword in hand, rush the Green Mountain men.
The scarce wakened troops of the garrison
Yield up their trust pale with fear ;
And down comes the bright British banner.
And out rings a Green Mountain cheer.

Flushed with pride, the whole eastern heavens
With crimson and gold are ablaze ;
And up springs the sun in his splendor
And flings down his arrowy rays, 
Bathing in sunlight the fortress.
Turning to gold the grim walls.
While louder and clearer and higher
Rings the song of the waterfalls.

Since the taking of Ticonderoga
A century has rolled away;
But with pride the nation remembers
That glorious morning in May.
And the cataract's silvery music
Forever the story tells.
Of the capture of old Carillon,
The chime of the silver bells.

A Song for Lexington

A SONG FOR LEXINGTON
BY ROBERT KELLEY WEEKS

The spring came earlier on
Than usual that year;
The shadiest snow was gone.
The slowest brook was clear,
And warming in the sun
Shy flowers began to peer.

Twas more like middle May,
The earth so seemed to thrive,
That Nineteenth April day
Of Seventeen Seventy-Five;
Winter was well away,
New England was alive!

Alive and sternly glad!
Her doubts were with the snow;
Her courage, long forbade.
Ran full to overflow;
And every hope she had
Began to bud and grow.

She rose betimes that morn.
For there was work to do;
A planting, not of com.
Of what she hardly knew,—
Blessings for men unborn ;
And well she did it, too!

With open hand she stood.
And sowed for all the years.
And watered it with blood.
And watered it with tears,
The seed of quickening food
For both the hemispheres.

This was the planting done
That April morn of fame;
Honor to every one
To that seed-field that came!
Honor to Lexington,
Our first immortal name!

Paul Revere's Ride

PAUL REVERE'S RIDE (April 18, 1775)
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night.
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal-light.
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore.
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison-bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street
Wanders and watches with eager ears.
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet.
And the measured tread of the grenadiers.
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed to the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the somber rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade, -
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wail,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town.
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill.
Wrapped in silence so deep and still,
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread.
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead ;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side.
Now gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely, and spectral, and somber and still.
And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark.
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light.
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides ;
And under the alders, that skirt its edge.
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge.
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock.
And the barking of the farmer's dog.
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he rode into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed.
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock.
When he came to the bridge in Concord town,
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees.
And felt the breath of tlie morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball

You know the rest. In the books you have read,
How the British Regulars fired and fled, -
How the farmers gave them ball for ball.
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall.
Chasing the red-coats down the lane.
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road.
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every -Middlesex village and farm, -
A cry of defiance and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door.
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last.
In the hour of darkness and peril and need.
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed.
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

The Volunteer

The Volunteer
by: Elbridge Jefferson Cutler (1831-1870)

 

"At dawn," he said, "I bid them all farewell,
To go where bugles call and rifles gleam."
And with the restless thought asleep he fell,
And wandered into dream.

 

A great hot plain from sea to mountain spread;
Through it a level river slowly drawn;
He moved with a vast crowd, and at its head‚

Streamed banners like the dawn.

There came a blinding flash, a deafening roar,
And dissonant cries of triumph and dismay;
Blood trickled down the river's reedy shore,
And with the dead he lay.

The morn broke in upon his solemn dream;
And still with steady pulse and deepening eye,
"Where bugles call," he said, "and rifles gleam,
I follow, though I die!"

Concord Hymn

CONCORD HYMN
BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON
(Sung at the Completion of the Battle Monument, July 4, 1837)

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.

The Song of The Cannon

The Song of the Cannon
by Sam Walter Foss
 

When the diplomats cease from their capers,
Their red-tape requests and replies,
Their shuttlecock battle of papers,
Their saccharine parley of lies;
When the plenipotentiary wrangle
Is tied in a chaos of knots,
And becomes an unwindable tangle
Of verbals unmarried to thoughts;
When they've anguished and argued profoundly,
Asserted, assumed, and averred,
Then I end up the dialogue roundly
With my monosyllabical word.

Not mine is a speech academic,
No lexicon lingo is mine,
And in politic parley, polemic,
I was never created to shine.
But I speak with some show of decision,
And I never attempt to be bland,
I hurl my one word with precision,
My hearers - they all understand.
It requires no labored translation,
Its pith and its import to glean;
They gather its signification,
They know at the first what I mean.

The codes of the learned legations,
Of form and of rule and decree,
The etiquette books of the nations -
They were never intended for me.
When your case is talked into confusion,
Then hush you, my diplomat friend,
Give me just a word in conclusion,
I'll bring the dispute to an end.
Ye diplomats, cease to aspire
A case that's appealed to debate,
It has gone to a court that is higher,
And I'm the Attorney for Fate.

An Appeal for America

AN APPEAL FOR AMERICA
BY WILLIAM PITT
(Addressed to LORD CHATHAM In Parliament, January 20, I775)

Who said I'm not Patriotic?

'My Lords:
      These papers, brought to your table at so late a period of this business, tell us what? Why, what all
the world knew before: that the Americans, irritated by repeated injuries, and stripped of their inborn rights and dearest privileges, have resisted, and entered into associations for the preservation of their common liberties.
      Had the early situation of the people of Boston been attended to, things would not have come to this. But the infant complaints of Boston were literally treated like the capricious squalls of a child, who, it is said, 'did not know whether it was aggrieved or not.'
      But full well I knew, at that time, that this child, if not redressed, would soon assume the courage and voice of a man. Full well I knew that the sons of ancestors, born under the same free constitution and once breathing the same liberal air as Englishmen, would resist upon the same principles and on the same occasions.
      What has government done? They have sent an armed force consisting of seventeen thousand men, to dragoon the Bostonians into what is called their duty; and, so far from once turning their eyes to the policy and destructive consequence of this scheme, are constantly sending out more troops. And we are told, in the language of menace, that if seventeen thousand men won't do, fifty thousand shall.
      It is true, my lords, with this force they may ravage the country, waste and destroy as they march; but, in the progress of fifteen hundred miles, can they occupy the places they have passed? Will not a country which can produce three millions of people, wronged and insulted as they are, start up like hydras in every comer, and gather fresh strength from fresh opposition?
      Nay, what dependence can you have upon the soldiery, the unhappy engines of your wrath? They are Englishmen, who must feel for the privileges of Englishmen. Do you think that these men can turn their arms against their brethren? Surely no. A victory must be to them a defeat, and carnage a sacrifice.
      But it is not merely three millions of people, the produce of America, we have to contend with in this unnatural struggle ; many more are on their side, dispersed over the face of this wide empire. Every Whig in this country and in Ireland is with them.
      In this alarming crisis I come with this paper in my hand to offer you the best of my experience and advice; which is, that a humble petition be presented to his Majesty, beseeching him that, in order to open the way toward a happy settlement of the dangerous troubles in America, it may graciously please him that immediate orders be given to General Gage for removing his Majesty's force from the town of Boston.
      Such conduct will convince America that you mean to try her cause in the spirit of freedom and inquiry, and not in letters of blood.
      There is no time to be lost. Every hour is big with danger. Perhaps, while I am now speaking, the decisive blow is struck which may involve millions in the consequence. And, believe me, the very first drop of blood which is shed will cause a wound which may never be healed.
      When your lordships look at the papers transmitted to us from America, when you consider their firmness, decency, and wisdom, you cannot but respect their cause and wish to make it your own. For myself, I must affirm, declare, and avow that, in all my reading and observation (and it has been my favorite study, for I have read Thucydides, and have studied and admired the master-states of the world), I say, I must declare that, for solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, and wisdom of conclusion, under such a complication of difficult circumstances, no nation or body of men can stand in preference to the General Congress at Philadelphia. I trust it is obvious to your lordships that all attempts to impose servitude upon such men, to establish despotism, over such a mighty continental nation, must be vain, must be fatal.
       We shall be forced, ultimately, to retract. Let us retract while we can, not when, we must. I say we must necessarily undo these violent, oppressive acts. They Must be repealed. You Will repeal them. I pledge myself for it that you will, in the end, repeal them, I stake my reputation on it. I will consent to be taken for an idiot if they are not finally repealed.

The Revolutionary Alarm

Liberty Forever

        Darkness closed upon the country and upon the town, but it was no not for sleep. Heralds on swift relays of horses transmitted the war-message from  hand to hand, till village repeated it to village; the sea to the backwoods; the plains to the highlands; and it was never suffered to droop till it had been borne North and South, and East and West, throughout the land.
       It spread over the bays that receive the Saco and the Penobscot. Its loud reveille broke the rest of the trappers of New Hampshire, and, ringing like bugle-notes from peak to peak, overleapt the Green Mountains, swept onward to Montreal, and descended the ocean river, till the responses were echoed from the cliffs of Quebec. The hills along the Hudson told to one another the tale.
       As the summons hurried to the south, it was one day at New York; in one more at Philadelphia; the next it lighted a watchfire at Baltimore; thence it waked an answer at Annapolis. Crossing the Potomac near Mount Vernon, it was sent forward without a halt to Williamsburg. It traversed the Dismal Swamp to Nansemond, along the route of the first emigrants to North Carolina. It moved onwards and still onwards, through boundless groves of evergreen, to New-Beme and to Wilmington.
       For God's sake, forward it by night and by day,'' wrote Cornelius Harnett, by the express which sped for Brunswick. Patriots of South Carolina caught up its tones at the border and despatched it to Charleston,
and through pines and palmettos and moss-clad live-oaks, farther to the south, till it resounded among the New England settlements beyond Savannah.
       The Blue Ridge took up the voice, and made it heard from one end to the other of the valley of Virginia. The Alleghanies, as they listened, opened their barriers, that the loud call  might pass through  to the hardy riflemen on the Holston, the Watauga, and the French Broad. Ever renewing its strength, powerful enough even to create a commonwealth, it breathed its inspiring word to the first settlers of Kentucky; so that hunters who made their halt in the matchless valley of the Elkhom commemorated the 19th day of April, 1775, by naming their encampment Lexington.
       With one impulse the colonies sprung to arms; with one spirit they pledged themselves to each other - to be ready for the extreme event. With one heart the continent cried, Liberty or Death! by George Bancroft

The Principles of The Revolution

Three cheers for the red, white and blue!

       When we speak of the glory of our fathers, we mean not that vulgar renown to be attained by physical strength; nor yet that higher fame, to be acquired by intellectual power. Both often exist without lofty thought, pure intent, or generous purpose. The glory which we celebrate was strictly of a moral and religious character; righteous as to its ends; just as to its means.
       The American Revolution had its origin neither in ambition, nor avarice, nor envy, nor in any gross passion; but in the nature and relation of things, and in the thence-resulting necessity of separation from the parent state. Its progress was limited by that necessity. Our fathers displayed great strength and great moderation of purpose. In difficult times they conducted it with wisdom; in doubtful times, with firmness; in perilous times, with courage; under oppressive trials, erect; amidst temptations, unseduced; in the dark hour of danger, fearless; in the bright hour of prosperity, faithful.
       It was not the instant feeling and pressure of despotism that roused them to resist, but the principle on which that arm was extended. They could have paid the impositions of the British government, had they been increased a thousandfold; but payment acknowledged right, and they spurned the consequences of that acknowledgment. But, above all, they realized that those burdens, though light in themselves, would to coming ages - to us, their posterity - be heavy, and probably insupportable. They preferred to meet the trial in their own times, and to make the sacrifices in their own persons, that we and our descendants, their posterity, might reap the harvest and enjoy the increase.
       Generous men, exalted patriots, immortal statesmen! For this deep moral and social affection, for this elevated self-devotion, this bold daring, the multiplying millions of your posterity, as they spread backward to the lakes, and from the lakes to the mountains, and from the mountains to the western waters, shall annually, in all future time, come up to the temples of the Most High, with song and anthem, and thanksgiving; with cheerful symphonies and hallelujahs, to repeat your names; to look steadfastly on the brightness of your glory; to trace its spreading rays to the points from which they emanate; and to seek in your character and conduct a practical illustration of public duty in every occurring social exigency. by Josiah Quincy