der and light.
In the flowers, in the shells, in the stars of the night.

JOSIAH KEEP,
in _Shells and Sea-Life._

MARCH 29.

BACK TO THE DESERT.

Call it the land of thirst,
Call it the land accurst,
Or what you will;
There where the heat-lines twirl
And the dust-devils whirl
His heart turns still.

* * * * *

Back to the land he knows,
Back where the yucca grows
And cactus bole;
Where the coyote cries,
Where the black buzzard flies
Flyeth his soul!

BAILEY MILLARD,
in _Songs of the Press._

MARCH 30.

DRIVING THE LAST SPIKE, 1869.

Under the desert sky the spreading multitude was called to order.
There followed a solemn prayer of thanksgiving. The laurel tie was
placed, amidst ringing cheers. The golden spike was set. The
trans-American telegraph wire was adjusted. Amid breathless silence
the silver hammer was lifted, poised, dropped, giving the gentle tap
that ticked the news to all the world! Then, blow on blow, Governor
Stanford sent the spike to place! A storm of wild huzzas burst forth;
desert rock and sand, plain and mountain, echoed the conquest of their
terrors. The two engines moved up, touched noses; and each in turn
crossed the magic tie. America was belted! The great Iron Way was
finished.

SARAH PRATT CARR,
in _The Iron Way._

MARCH 31.

THE SPIRIT OF THE WEST.

All wearied with the burdens of a place
Grown barren, over-crowded and despoiled
Of vital freshness by the weight of years.
A sage ascended to the mountain tops
To peer, as Moses once had done of old,
Into the distance for a Promised Land:
And there, his gaze toward the setting sun.
Beheld the Spirit of the Occident,
Bold, herculean, in its latent strength--
A youthful destiny that beckoned on
To fields all vigorous with natal life.
The years have passed; the sage has led a band
Of virile, sturdy men into the West.
And these have toiled and multiplied and stamped
Upon the face of Nature wondrous things.
Until, created from the virgin soil,
Great industries arise as monuments
To their endeavor; and a mighty host
Now labors in a once-untrodden waste--
Quick-pulsed with life-blood, from a heart that throbs
Its vibrant dominance throughout the world.
Today, heroic in the sunset's glow,
A figure looms, colossal and serene.
In royal power of accomplishment,
That claims the gaze