Independence Day celebrates the signing, on the Fourth of July, 1776, of the paper which declared this country forever free from British rule. It had been under consideration for some time by the Continental Congress, assembled at Philadelphia, and final action was finally taken on July 4. From that time forward, the American colonists were no longer rebels in arms against their country, but a free people fighting for their independence. That the Declaration of Independence was mainly the work of Thomas Jefferson has been established beyond reasonable doubt; and it stands to-day one of the most remarkable state papers in the history of the world. At the time of the passage of the act, John Adams wrote to his wife a letter which has become historic. “I am apt to believe,” he wrote, “that this day will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forevermore.” Bonfires and guns there have been without limit; and the deaths that have resulted from these celebrations would form no inconsiderable fraction of those lost during the Revolution. For years, the celebration of this great holiday has consisted mainly of meaningless noise; but there is a steadily growing sentiment in favor of a more worthy observance of the day, as a time when every loyal American should rejoice in the welfare of his country, and recall with pride the manner in which the Nation was established. THE NATION’S BIRTHDAY BY MARY E. VANDYNE Ring out the joy bells! Once again, With waving flags and rolling drums, We greet the Nation’s Birthday, when, In glorious majesty, it comes. Ah, day of days! Alone it stands, While, like a halo round it cast, The radiant work of patriot hands, Shines the bright record of the past. Among the nations of the earth, What land hath story like our own? No thought of conquest marked her birth; No greed of power was ever shown By those who crossed the ocean wild, That they might plant upon her sod A home for Peace and Virtue mild, And altars rear to Freedom’s God. How grand the thought that bade them roam! Those pilgrim bands, by Faith inspired— That bade them leave their cherished home, And, with the martyr’s spirit fired, Guide their frail vessels o’er the main Upon the glorious mission bound On alien soil a grave to gain, Or else a free born nation found.