en her rich,
ringing voice, with every word clear and distinct, sounded through the
room:

"Of all the mighty nations in the east or in the west,
Our glorious Yankee nation is the brightest and the best;
We have room for all creation, and our banner is unfurled
With a cordial invitation to the people of the world.
So, come along, come along; make no delay;
Come from every nation; come from every way.
The land it is broad enough; you need not be alarmed,
For Uncle Sam has land enough to give you all a farm."

An amused look passed over the faces of those present as the sentiments of
the singer reached their ears, and Plaisted said, half aloud:

"Good for you, Miss Dexie; I back you there!" and when the chorus was
reached, his fine tenor was equal to any that had been heard during the
evening, his "Come along" ringing out like a bold challenge.

"Hurrah for the Stars and Stripes!" cried Lieutenant Layton, as he joined
in the applause that arose as soon as the song had ended. "Your nationality
is quite apparent, Miss Sherwood. That's right; don't let your own broad
country be sung down."

Dexie found herself immediately surrounded, and was overwhelmed with
entreaties to sing again, for the "back slap" had been as diverting as it
was unexpected, and she found it impossible to leave the piano without
singing again. But she thought that one song in that strain was enough,
though Mr. Gurney came over to her side, saying:

"Give us another like the last, Miss Dexie. It is good for these red-coated
fellows to remember that they have not conquered all the people on the face
of the earth."

"I am afraid it will offend someone," said Dexie, softly. "I couldn't
resist the temptation of letting them know that _I_ don't think England is
supreme. I am a loyal American, even if I do reside in Halifax."

"Oh! there is no danger of offending," Mr. Gurney replied. "The lion has
roared quite enough for one evening, so let the starry flag play awhile in
the breeze."

But Dexie did not like to flaunt the flag too near the lion's face, and in
his own den, as it were; so remembering some of the beautiful, pathetic
songs, that had been inspired by the war, she thought they would be quite
as much enjoyed.

Lancy Gurney was seldom far from the piano, and as Dexie finished her song
she motioned him to her side. A few whispered words passed between them,
then Lancy sat down beside her, when there rang out a symphony that