I love the squirrel that hops in the corn, And the cricket that quaintly sings; And the emerald pigeon that nods his head, And the shad that gaily springs. I love the dainty sunflower too, And Maud with her snowy breast; I love them all;――but I love――I love―― I love my country best. This is certainly very beautiful, and sounds somewhat like Tennyson. Though it was rejected by the committee, it can never lose its value as a piece of excellent reading for children. It is calculated to fill the youthful mind with patriotism and natural history, besides touching the youthful heart with an emotion palpitating for all. Notice the following NATIONAL ANTHEM BY R. H. STOD―――― Behold the flag! Is it not a flag? Deny it, man, if you dare; And midway spread, ’twixt earth and sky, It hangs like a written prayer. Would impious hand of foe disturb Its memories’ holy spell, And blight it with a dew of blood? Ha, tr-r-aitor!! * * * It is well. And this is the last of the rejected anthems I can quote from at present, my boy, though several hundred pounds yet remain untouched. Yours, questioningly, ORPHEUS C. KERR. [Illustration] Longfellow has borrowed the refrain of “The Old Clock on the Stairs” from a phrase of Jacques Bridaine:―― “L’éternité est une pendule, dont le balancier dit et redit sans cesse ces deux mots seulement, dans le silence des tombeaux: ‘Toujours! jamais! Jamais! toujours!’” “And from its station in the hall An ancient timepiece says to all,―― ‘For ever――never! Never――for ever!’ “Half-way up the stairs it stands, And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs alas! With sorrowful voice to all who pass,―― ‘For ever――never! Never――for ever!’” It is somewhat remarkable that such a poet as Charles Beaudelaire, the tone of whose writings is generally far removed from that of Longfellow, should so often have borrowed sentiments and ideas from him. Thus in “L’Horloge” he has two verses distinctly reminiscent of “The Old Clock”:―― “Horloge! dieu sinistre, effrayant, impassible, Dont le doight nous menace, et nous dit: _Souviens-toi!_ Les vibrantes Douleurs dans ton cœur, plein d’effroi, Se planteront bientôt comme dans une cible. * * * * *