t of the talkers could lay.

He could sing like a robin, and play on the flute,
And he opened a school, which was free,
Where he taught all the musical fellows to toot,
Or to join in an anthem or glee.

So he soon "held the age" over any young man
Who had ever been known on the bar;
And the boys put him through, when for sheriff he ran,
And his stock now was much above par.

In the spring he was lucky, and struck a rich lead,
And he let all his friends have a share;
It was called the New Boston, for that was his breed,
And the rock that he showed them was rare.

When he called on his partners to put up a mill,
They were anxious to furnish the means;
And the needful, of course, turned into his till
Just as freely as though it was beans.

Then he went to the Bay with his snug little pile--
There was seventeen thousand and more--
To arrange for a mill of the most approved style,
And to purchase a Sturtevant blower.

But they waited for Boston a year and a day,
And he never was heard of again.
For the lead he had opened was salted with pay,
And he'd played 'em with culture and brain.

THE GREATER FREEDOM

O God of battles, who sustained
Our fathers in the glorious days
When they our priceless freedom gained,
Help us, as loyal sons, to raise
Anew the standard they upbore,
And bear it on to farther heights,
Where freedom seeks for self no more,
But love a life of service lights.

OUR FATHER

Is God our Father? So sublime the thought
We cannot hope its meaning full to grasp,
E'en as the Child the gifts the wise men brought
Could not within his infant fingers clasp.

We speak the words from early childhood taught.
We sometimes fancy that their truth we feel;
But only on life's upper heights is caught
The vital message that they may reveal.

So on the heights may we be led to dwell,
That nearer God we may more truly know
How great the heritage His love will tell
If we be lifted up from things below.

RESURGAM

The stricken city lifts her head,
With eyes yet dim from flowing tears;
Her heart still throbs with pain unspent,
But hope, triumphant, conquers fears.

With vision calm, she sees her course,
Nor shrinks, though thorny be the way.
Shall human will succumb to fate,
Crushed by the happenings of a day?

The city that we love