“Yes; he went to try to gain the release of Dr. Beanes, of Upper Marlborough, and was detained during the engagement. You can imagine his feelings; uncertain as to the result of the battle, and anxiously waiting through the long night for some sign to relieve his doubts and fears. The occasion, however, has given us a beautiful ode. Mr. Key, after being kept some time on board a British vessel, the _Surprise_, was at last returned to his own cartel ship, the _Minden_, and there, on the back of a letter, he wrote the song I have just handed to you.” “What is it called?” Betty asked. “The Bombardment of Fort McHenry,” Lettice read from her paper. “Read it out, Lettice,” said her Cousin Joe, and she began:-- “‘Oh say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light, What so proudly we hailed by the twilight’s last gleaming?’” She read it through to the end to a group of attentive listeners. “Fine! Beautiful! A noble production!” came the comments. “It is not generally known that Mr. Key wrote it,” William went on to say, “but his uncle, Judge Nicholson, told me that it was a fact, and that Frank had showed it to him, and that he, being vastly pleased with it, took it to the office of the _Baltimore American_ and had a number of copies printed, one of which he gave to me. Every one is singing it, and it promises to become very popular. The tune is that of ‘Anacreon in Heaven.’ You know it, Joe; come, join in. Come, Betty, come, Lettice, let us try it;” and the Star-Spangled Banner was given with spirit and fervor. Several passers-by, catching the tune, started up the air and went singing on their way, so that after the song indoors was ended, from the distance could be heard, lustily shouted:-- “‘’Tis the Star-Spangled Banner! Oh, long may it wave O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!’” It was toward Christmas that Lettice, coming into her aunt’s room one day, found the good lady pondering over two letters which she had been reading. “Your father and your uncle are on their way home,” she announced abruptly. “Oh, how very glad I am!” cried the girl. “There are some good things left for us, after all, Aunt Martha; though sometimes, when I think of this war and all it has cost me, I feel as if it had stripped me of everything.” “This war, indeed; yes, I don’t half blame my brother for calling it an unrighteous proceeding.” She tapped the letter she had just been reading; then she burst out again: “But we would have been cowards not to have fought for our rights. New Englander as I am, I must confess that the Federalists are going too far. What does this convention at Hartford mean but an attempt to dissever the Union? For all that Edward excuses it on the ground of an effort to thwart an incompetent government, it means nothing more nor less than an ugly word--secession.” “Oh, Aunt Martha, really?”