m New England, who
preached about the Pilgrim's Progress through the world, and the
trials he meets by the way. Oscar pulled his father's sleeve, and
asked why he did not ask the preacher to give out "The Kansas
Emigrant's Song" as a hymn. Mr. Bryant smiled, and whispered that it
was hardly likely that the lines would be considered just the thing
for a religious service. But after the preaching was over, and the
little company was breaking up, he told the preacher what Oscar had
said. The minister's eyes sparkled, and he replied, "What? Have you
that beautiful hymn? Let us have it now and here. Nothing could be
better for this day and this time."

Oscar, blushing with excitement and native modesty, was put up high on
the stump of a tree, and, violin in hand, "raised the tune." It was
grand old "Dundee." Almost everybody seemed to know the words of
Whittier's poem, and beneath the blue Kansas sky, amid the groves of
Kansas trees, the sturdy, hardy men and the few pale women joyfully,
almost tearfully, sang,--

We crossed the prairie, as of old
The pilgrims crossed the sea,
To make the West, as they the East,
The homestead of the free!

We go to rear a wall of men
On freedom's Southern line,
And plant beside the cotton-tree
The rugged Northern pine!

We're flowing from our native hills
As our free rivers flow;
The blessing of our Mother-land
Is on us as we go.

We go to plant her common schools
On distant prairie swells,
And give the Sabbaths of the wild
The music of her bells.

Upbearing, like the Ark of old,
The Bible in our van,
We go to test the truth of God
Against the fraud of man.

No pause, nor rest, save where the streams
That feed the Kansas run,
Save where our pilgrim gonfalon
Shall flout the setting sun!

We'll tread the prairie as of old
Our fathers sailed the sea,
And make the West, as they the East,
The homestead of the free!

"It was good to be there," said Alexander Howell, his hand resting
lovingly on Oscar's shoulder, as they went back to camp. But Oscar's
father said neve