A LETTER FROM JOHN JAY TO BENJAMIN FRANKLIN Passy, 11 Sept., 1783. B. FRANKLIN, SIB: I have been favored with your letter yesterday and will answer it explicitly. I have no reason whatever to believe that you were averse to our obtaining the full extent of boundary and fishery secured to us by treaty. Your conduct respecting them throughout the negotiation indicated a strong, a steady attachment to both those objects, and in my opinion, promoted the attainment of them. I remember that in a conversation, which M. de Rayneval, first Secretary of Count de Vergennes, had with you and me, in the summer of 1782, you contended to our full right to the fishery. On the contrary, we were unanimous and united in adhering to and insisting on them. Nor did I perceive the least disposition in either of us to recede from our claims, or be satisfied with less than we obtained. I have the honor to be, with great respect and esteem, A LIFE LESSON There! little girl, don't cry! They have broken your doll, I know; And your tea-set blue, And your play-house, too, Are things of the long ago; - JOHN JAY. But childish troubles will soon pass by. There! little girl, don't cry! There! little girl, don't cry! They have broken your slate, I know; Of your school-girl days Are things of the long ago; But life and love will soon come by. There! little girl, don't cry! There! little girl, don't cry! They have broken your heart, I know; And the rainbow gleams Of your youthful dreams Are things of the long ago; But Heaven holds all for which you sigh. There! little girl, don't cry! DISCIPLINE A block of marble caught the glance Of Buonarotti's eyes, Which brightened in their solemn deeps, Like meteor-lighted skies. And one who stood beside him listened, Smiling as he heard; For "I will make an angel of it," Was the sculptor's word. And mallet soon and chisel sharp The stubborn block assailed, And blow by blow, and bang by bang, A brow was lifted, high and pure; Beneath the chisel's edge the hair And, plume by plume, was slowly freed And where the shapeless block had been, O blows that smite! O hurts that pierce O hope that crumbles at my feet! Sculptor of souls! I lift to Thee Encumbered heart and hands; Spare not the chisel, set me free, However dear the bands. How blest, if all these seeming ills, Which draw my thoughts to Thee, Should only prove that Thou wilt make An angel out of me! THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER The son of a Revolutionary soldier, Francis Scott Key was born August 9, 1780, and died in Baltimore, January 11, 1843. His life of nearly sixty-three years was an unbroken idol, of tranquil happiness; amid congenial scenes; among kindred people; blessed by wedded love and many children, and accompanied by the successful pursuit of the learned profession he had chosen for himself. Yet it was reserved for this constant and modest gentleman to leave behind a priceless legacy to his countrymen and to identify his name for all time with his country's flag. upon "The Star-Spangled Banner" owed very little to chance. It was the emanation of a patriotic fervor as sincere and natural as it was simple and noble. It sprang from one of those glorious inspirations which, coming to an author unbidden, seizes at once the hearts and minds of men. The occasion seems to have been created for the very purpose. The man and the hour were met and the song came; and truly was song never yet born amid such scenes. We explore the pages of folklore, we read the story of popular music in vain to find the like. His song was the very child of battle. It was rocked by cannon in the cradle of the deep. Its swaddling-clothes were the Stars and Stripes, and then its birth proclaimed. Its coming was heralded by shot and shell, and from its baptism of fire a nation of freemen clasped it to its bosom. It was to be thenceforth and forever freedom's "Gloria in Excelsis." The circumstances which ushered it into the world, hardly less than the words of the poem, are full of patriotic exhilaration. It was during the darkest days of our second war of independence. An English army had invaded and occupied and had burned the Capitol of the nation. An English squadron was in undisputed possession of Chesapeake Bay. There being nothing of interest or value left within the vicinity of Washington to detain them, the British were massing their land and naval forces for other conquests, and, as their ships sailed down the Potomac, Dr. William Beanes, a prominent citizen of Maryland, who had been arrested at his home in Upper Marlboro, charged with some offence, real or fancied, was carried off a prisoner. It was to secure the liberation of this gentleman, his neighbour and friend, that Francis Scott Key obtained leave of the President to go to the British admiral under a flag of truce. He was conveyed by the cartel-boat used for the exchange of prisoners and accompanied by the flag officer of the Government. They proceeded down the bay from Baltimore and found the British fleet at the mouth of the Potomac. Mr. Key was courteously received by Admiral Cockrane; but he was not encouraged as to the success of his mission until letters from the English officers wounded at Bladensburg and left in the care of Americans were delivered to the friends on the fleet to whom they had been written. These bore such testimony to the kindness with which they had been treated that it was finally agreed that Dr. Beanes should be released; but, as an advance upon Baltimore was about to be made, it was required that the party of Americans should remain under guard on board their own vessel until these operations were concluded. Thus it was that the night of September 14, 1814, Key witnessed the bombardment of Fort M'Henry, which his song was to render illustrious. He did not quit the deck the long night through. With his |