er were hurried to the
fore.

The _Constitution_ had quite a reception in New York, and she started
out with high endeavors. She had not gone far, however, before she found
herself followed by three British frigates, and among them the
_Guerriere_, whose captain Commodore Hull had met in New York. To be
captured in this manner--for fighting against such odds would be of no
avail--was not to be thought of, so there was nothing but a race before
him. If he could reach Boston he would save his ship and his men, and
somewhere perhaps gain a victory.

Ah, what a race it was! The men put forth all their strength, all their
ingenuity. At times it seemed as if capture was imminent. By night and
by day, trying every experiment, working until they dropped from sheer
fatigue, and after an hour or two of rest going at it again--Captain
Hull kept her well to the windward, and with various maneuverings
puzzled the pursuers. Then Providence favored them with a fine, driving
rain, and she flew along in the darkness of the night, hardly daring to
hope, but at dawn, after a three days' race, Boston was in sight, and
her enemies were left behind.

But that was not in any sense a complete victory, and she started out
again to face her enemy and conquer if she could, for her captain knew
the British ship _Guerriere_ was lying somewhere in wait for her.
Everybody prayed and hoped. Firing was heard, but at such a distance
from the harbor nothing could be decided.

The frontier losses had been depressing in the extreme. Boston had hung
her flags at half-mast for the brave dead. But suddenly a report came
that the _Constitution_ had been victorious, and that the _Guerriere_
after having been disabled beyond any power of restoration, had been
sent to a watery grave.

In a moment it seemed as if the whole town was in a transport of joy.
Flags were waving everywhere, and a gayly decorated flotilla went out in
the harbor to greet the brave battle-scarred veteran. And when the tale
of the great victory ran from lip to lip the rejoicing was unbounded. A
national salute was fired, which was returned from the ship. The streets
were in festive array and crowded with people who could not restrain
their wild rejoicing. The _Guerriere_, which was to drive the insolent
striped bunting from the face of the seas, had been swept away in a
brief hour and a half, and the bunting waved above her grave. That night
the story was told over in many a home. The