The original document to which these names were signed still exists, grown worn and yellow with age; the Liberty Bell that rang out the joyous news of freedom on the sunny noon and the starlit night of the eventful eighth of July is now cracked and voiceless; the signers themselves are now only names and memories; but their work lives in the power and glory of the great nation which they founded, and every true American girl and boy honors the memory and applauds the courage of those devoted men. And upon each recurring Fourth of July every girl and boy in the land is as joyous and jubilant a young patriot as was even young Joe Nixon when, with bonfire and rude, old-time fireworks, with hurrah and shout and song he celebrated, in the days when George the Third was king, the first Fourth of July on the Eighth. THEIR FLAG DAY[U] By HERBERT O. MCCRILLIS A grandfather tells a group of patriotic little Americans how _his_ grandfather was a redcoat at Lexington. Toot! Toot! Rub-a-dub-dub! came from down the street, and it made Grandpa Sturdy, who sat dozing in the sun, start up suddenly and look to see what gallant soldiers were coming. First came Captain Tommy Rankin, acting as drum-major, with his sister’s muff worn for a fur hat, and an umbrella for a baton. Behind him came a troop of children wearing all sorts of military decorations--helmets, epaulets, and paper caps. One boy carried a large flag, and one of the girls was singing through a comb. Grandpa rose and went out to the gate as they came near. Then, just as they came close, he took off his hat and gave them a military salute--for grandpa was a soldier once--and held up his hand for them to stop just a moment. “Company, halt!” commanded Tommy, in a loud tone. “Parade, rest! Salute! Attention!” And they obeyed. “What company is this?” said grandpa smilingly. “We are the minute-men, grandpa,” said Tommy. “We are going out to Concord to keep Flag Day. Our teacher was going to have a celebration to-day, but she is sick, so we have made a procession, and are going to march by her house to show her how we can remember the flag.” “That’s right,” said grandpa, saluting the flag. “I can do that if my grandfather was what we call a redcoat.” “Your grandfather a redcoat?” cried all the boys in a breath. “Did he ever tell you anything about it?” “Oh, yes, he told us about going to America to fight the rebels, and what a lot of British soldiers there were in Boston, who all laughed at the idea of the plain country farmers and workmen being able to fight the king’s own fine troops; and granddad thought so with all the rest, he said. Well, they found out that day that the rebels could fight, after all. Let me see, what day was that, boys?” “April 19, 1775,” said Tommy, echoed by the others.