Chapter D: A. R., Athens, Ga., to be read by Mrs. Augusta Wood

DuBose, also a descendant of Kate Barry and her husband, Captain
Andrew Barry.

ART AND ARTISTS OF THE REVOLUTION.

During the reign of George III, in the town of Boston, with only eighteen thousand inhabitants, there hung in the library of Harvard University a copy of "A Cardinal" by Van Dycke. The New England states were opposed to art as a principle, but showed signs of literary and artistic activity at this time. Exhibitions were unknown, the painters were "traveling artists" who went over the country painting portraits on sign boards, stage coaches, and fire engines, for practice and also a living. John Singleton Copeley, in Boston, was the only American artist who did meritorious work. Before he came under foreign influences, he wielded his brush with great dexterity, "The Death of the Earl of Chatham" in the National Gallery in London, being one of his famous pictures. The grouping of the portrait figures is skillfully arranged. To our art, the portraits he painted in Boston are of importance. The lesson thus taught led us into the interior of the royalist era, with carved furniture, showy curtains, peopled with well-to-do men and women, lavishly robed, that suggests the customs as well as the people of the Revolutionary period. Benjamin West, a contemporary of Copely, had nothing in common with the development of American art. He left at an early age for England, where he climbed the pinnacle of social, if not artistic success. He was a personal friend of the king, was employed as his historical painter, succeeding Sir Joshua Reynolds as president of the royal academy. One of his pictures quite noted was "Christ Rejected." "Death on the Pale Horse," the size of the canvas he used was 200 by 264 feet. His daring innovation of dressing the characters showed the costumes of the time and country in which they lived. It was his picturesque personality more than his art that attracts us to-day. In his native town, Philadelphia, it is said the Cherokee Indians taught him the secret of preparing color. This was the first city in the Union where opportunities for art growth and a moderate patronage presented themselves. Charles Wilson Peale, a man rather versatile, also a painter of some merit, established the first "Art Gallery," a museum of historical portraits, in his residence in Philadelphia.

John Trumbull was a different type, was not so richly endowed by natural gifts. Every accomplishment meant strenuous study, yet he is dear to us for his glorification of revolutionary history. "The Battle of Bunker Hill," "The Death of Montgomery" and "the Declaration of Independence," are familiar. The growth of art was handicapped, more than benefited--America was now an independent nation. The Royalists who could afford the luxury of art left this country. Now three men stepped forth who bore upon their brush tips the honor and progress of American art, Thomas Sully, John Vanderlyn and Washington Allston. The first mentioned became rapidly the most fashionable portrait painter of the day. His sweet faces, with robes draped gracefully, show great progress and execution. Sully was represented at the Philadelphia Academy by one hundred and sixteen pictures. It is said he painted a full length portrait of Queen Victoria.

Vanderlyn lived in Rome painting. Washington Allston painted on his enormous canvas "Belchazzer's Feast." "The Angel Liberating St. Peter from Prison" is one of decided merit. Gilbert Stuart was not a follower of the others, had a distinct and forceful individuality, the striking details of his work being brilliance in coloring and the natural life-like posing. He was the first American master of painting. His early sketches were lost. At the age of thirteen he received commission to paint two portraits. Two years later he went to Scotland. His stay there was short, he pined for home, secured passage and returned, later going to London in 1775, suffering privation. Afterwards a pupil under West for five years, his success was immediate; people of wit and fashion thronged his studio. He tasked himself to six sitters a day. Then devoted himself to society, living in great splendor. During this period he painted Louis the Sixteenth, George III, and Prince of Wales. Now his position was assured, he indulged himself in refusing many sitters, money failed to tempt him, only those who appealed to his artistic taste or afforded the best opportunity for a good picture. He was willing to give up all the golden opportunities Europe presented that he might have the privilege and satisfaction of painting the one man, whose heroic qualities fascinated him most. In 1792 he returned to the City of Brotherly Love, establishing his studio here, painted three portraits of Washington, unlike Peale, who made in all fourteen of Washington from life, painting him in the prime of his vigour. Stuart depicts the late autumn of his life, a face in which the lines of character are softened, a face chastened by responsibilities, it is the face, who has conquered himself as well as others; he represents him indeed as "The Father of His Country." He said, "I copy the works of God, leave clothes to the tailor, and mantua maker."

In Washington he found sentiments, grace and character. In the story of art, Gilbert Stuart holds a unique, and dignified position. "The Course of Nature is but the Art of God." Thomas Cole was a landscape painter. The sketches he painted in the Catskills--the banks, woods, rocks and the Cascades--gained recognition. He was an ardent student of English literature, influenced by Sir Walter Scott. In truth, was more of a poet than painter. His noted pictures were "The Voyage of Childhood," "The Course of Empire," consisting of five canvasses, first representing "A Nation's Rise, Progress, Decline and Fall." These are at the Historical Society of New York. The last picture of the serial, entitled "Desolation," has rarely been surpassed in solemn majesty, and depth of thought.--_Miss Emily G. Morrow, American Monthly Magazine._

"UNCLE SAM" EXPLAINED AGAIN.

Troy, New York, is said to be the place where the name "Uncle Sam" originated. After the declaration of war with England by the colonies a New York contractor, Elbert Anderson, visited Troy and made it his headquarters for the purchase of provisions for the Continental army. The supplies were duly inspected before shipment. One of the inspectors was Samuel Wilson, brother of Ebenezer, also an inspector and known as Uncle Sam to the workmen whom he superintended.

The casks in which the beef and pork were packed were marked with the initials of Elbert Anderson, the contractor, and the United States, thus: "E. A.--U. S." says the _New York Sun_. The first pair of initials were of course familiar to the men, but "U. S." mystified them. The fact was that the name United States was then so new to these countrymen that its initials were a complete puzzle. They turned to the nearest explanation, a humorous one and intended as a joke on their boss. If "E. A." stood for Elbert Anderson, then they opined "U. S." must stand for "Uncle Sam" Wilson. The joke spread to the Continental army, which carried it to every part of the country.

AN EPISODE OF THE WAR OF THE REVOLUTION.

In 1781 South Carolina was completely overrun by the British. The English colonists were divided, the majority being in favor of the Revolution, but there were a goodly number of loyal men among them who conscientiously espoused the cause of the Mother country and these were called Tories. Those who took part in the Revolution were called Whigs. Lancaster County was their stronghold. They were mostly descendants of the Scotch-Irish. Among these was Charles Mackey, their acknowledged leader.

The Whigs had always made Lancaster too hot for the Tories, but the advent of the British with Tarleton at their head, turned the tide of war, and now the Tories with Tarleton drove the Whigs from Lancaster across the Catawba and the Pedee Rivers to join General Marion.

Charles Mackey, as the leader of his band, had made himself very obnoxious to the Tories and they impatiently waited the time for vengeance. He was a man of medium size, very active and energetic, a fine horseman, a splendid shot, hot headed, impulsive, often running unnecessary risks and doing dare-devil deeds. No work was too hazardous for him. His wife, Lydia Mackey, was a woman of good common sense, with a clear head and fine judgment. In her coolness and self-possession she was far superior to her husband.

They had a family of young children, and Charles Mackey had not heard from them or seen any of them in several weeks. Their home was not more than two and a half miles from Tarleton's camp, on the Hanging Rock Creek. He knew it would be hazardous for him to return to his home so near Tarleton's camp; but his anxiety became so great that he could no longer remain in doubt, so he cautiously made his way home where he unwisely loitered for a week, and during this time he had the temerity to enter Tarleton's lines more than once in search of information which was most valuable to his country's defenders.

His home had patches of corn and potatoes on either side of a lane leading to the front of the house, while at the rear was a large kitchen-garden extending back to a great swamp, which was almost impenetrable to man or beast. This swamp was surrounded by a quagmire from ten to thirty feet wide. It was entered by jumping from tussock to tussock of moss covered clumps of mold, a foot or two in diameter and rising six to eight inches above the black jelly-like mire which shook in every direction when passing over it. A plank or fence-rail served as a temporary draw-bridge, which was pulled into the swamp after passing over.

When the country was infested by Tories, Charles Mackey spent his days in this swamp if not out scouting. At night he ventured home. He had good watch dogs and they gave the alarm whenever any one approached, whether by night or day. If at night, he would immediately lift a loose plank in the floor of his bed room, drop through to the ground, and out in the rear and run thirty or forty yards across the garden with his gun in hand and disappear in the swamp, pulling his fence rail draw-bridge after him. There was no approach to the house from the rear, and his retreat was always effected with impunity.

Once when he was at home, on the eve of leaving with some valuable information for the American General, his faithful watch dog failed to give warning of the approach of strangers and the first notice of their presence was their shouting "Hallo" in front of the house. Mrs. Mackey jumped out of bed, threw open the window shutters, stuck her head out, surveyed carefully the half dozen armed men, and said: "Who is there?" "Friends," they replied. "Is Charlie Mackey at home?" She promptly answered "No." In the mean time Charlie had raised the loose plank in the floor, and was ready to make for the swamp in the rear, when, stopping for a moment to make sure of the character of his visitors, he heard the spokesman say: "Well, we are sorry indeed, for there was a big fight yesterday on Lynch's Creek, between General Marion and the British, and we routed the Redcoats completely. We have been sent to General Davie at Lansford with orders to unite with General Marion at Flat Rock as soon as possible, and then to attack Tarleton. We do not know the way to Lansford and came to get Charlie to pilot us." Mrs. Mackey, calm and collected, said she was sorry her husband was not at home. But her husband was just the reverse, hot headed and impetuous. This sudden news of victory after so many reverses excited him, and he madly rushed out into the midst of the mounted men, hurrahing for Marion and Davie, and shouting vengeance on the Redcoats and Tories, and he began shaking hands enthusiastically with the boys and asking particulars about the fight, when the ringleader cooly said: "Well, Charlie, old fellow, we have set many traps for you, but never baited them right until now. You are our prisoner." And they marched him off just as he was, without hat or coat and without allowing him a moment to say a parting word to his poor wife. They took him to Col. Tarleton's headquarters where he was tried by court-martial and sentenced to death as a spy.

The next day, Mrs. Mackey, not knowing what had happened to him, gathered some fruits and eggs, and with a basket well filled made her way to Col. Tarleton's. The Colonel was on parade, but a young officer asked her to be seated. He said: "You have something for sale, I presume?" She replied that she had fruit and eggs. He gladly took what she had and paid for them. She then said her basket of fruit was only a pretext to get to Col. Tarleton's headquarters. That she was anxious to see him in person on business of great importance. She then explained to him the capture of her husband and that she wished to get him released if he were still alive, though she did not know but what they had hung him to the first tree they had come to.

The officer told her the Colonel was on parade and would not return for two hours. Mrs. Mackey was a comely woman of superior intelligence and soon interested the young officer in her sad condition. He expressed for her the deepest sympathy and told her that her husband was near by under guard; that he had been tried and sentenced to death, and he feared there was no hope for him, as the evidence against him by the Tories was of the most positive kind. He told her Col. Tarleton was as cruel and unfeeling as he was brave, and that he would promise her anything to get rid of her, but would fulfill nothing. "However" said he, "I will prepare the necessary document for your husband's release, filling in the blanks so that it will only be necessary to get Col. Tarleton's signature, but I again frankly say that it is almost hopeless."

At twelve o'clock Tarleton rode up, dismounted, and entered the adjoining tent. As he passed along the young officer said, "You must wait until he dines; another horse will be brought and when he comes up to mount you can approach him, but not till then."

At the expected time the tall, handsome, clean-shaven Colonel came out of his tent, and as he neared his charger, he was confronted by the heroic Lydia Mackey, who in a few words made known the object of her visit. He quickly replied that he was in a hurry and could not at that time stop to consider her case. She said the case was urgent; that her husband had been condemned to death and he alone had the power to save him. He replied: "Very well, my good woman, when I return later in the day I will inquire into the matter." Saying this he placed his foot in the stirrup and sprang up, but before he could throw his right leg over the saddle, Mrs. Mackey caught him by the coat and jerked him down. He turned upon her with a scowl, as she implored him to grant her request. He was greatly discomfited and angrily said he would inquire into the case on his return. He then attempted again to mount, when she dragged him down the second time, begging him in eloquent terms to spare the life of her husband. "Tut, tut, my good woman," said he, boiling with rage, "do you know what you are doing? be gone, I say I will attend to this matter at my convenience and not sooner." So saying he attempted the third time to mount, and so the third time Lydia Mackey jerked him to the ground. Holding by the sword's scabbard, and falling on her knees, she cried: "Draw your sword and slay me, or give me the life of my husband, for I will never let you go until you kill me or sign this document," which she drew from her bosom and held up before his face.

Tarleton, trembling with rage, turned to the young officer who stood close by intently watching the scene, and said: "Captain, where is this woman's husband?" He answered: "Under guard in yonder tent." "Order him to be brought here," and soon Charlie Mackey stood before the valiant Tarleton. "Sir" said he, "you have been convicted of bearing arms against His Majesty's government; worse, you have been convicted of being a spy. You have dared to enter my lines in disguise as a spy, and you cannot deny it, but for the sake of your wife I will give you a full pardon on condition that you will take an oath never again to bear arms against the King's government."

"Sir," said Charlie Mackey, in the firmest tones, "I cannot accept pardon on these terms. It must be unconditional or I must die," and poor Lydia Mackey cried out, "I, too, must die." On her knees she plead with such fervor and eloquence that Tarleton seemed lost for a moment and hesitated; then turning to the young Captain he said with quivering lips and a voice choking with emotion:

"Captain, for God's sake sign my name to this paper, and let this woman go."

With this, Mrs. Mackey sank to the ground exhausted, and Col. Tarleton rode off, doubtless happier for having spared the life of the heroic Lydia's husband.

The history of the American Revolution can hardly present a more interesting tableau than that of Lydia Mackey begging the life of her husband at the hands of the brave and bloody Tarleton, and it is probable that the "Lydia Mackey victory" was the first ever gained over the heart of this redoubtable commander, and it is very certain that Charles Mackey was the only condemned prisoner ever liberated by him without taking the oath of allegience to the Mother Country.--MRS. F. H. ORME, _Atlanta Chapter, D. A. R._

STATE FLOWERS.

In most instances, the state floral emblems have been adopted by the vote of the pupils of the public schools of their respective states.

Alabama, goldenrod.
Arizona, suwarso.
Arkansas, apple blossoms.
California, California poppy.
Colorado, columbine.
Connecticut, mountain laurel.
Delaware, peach blossoms.
Florida, Japan camellia.
Georgia, Cherokee rose.
Idaho, syringa.
Illinois, rose.
Indiana, corn.
Iowa, wild rose.
Kansas, sunflower.
Louisiana, magnolia.
Maine, pine cone.
Michigan, apple blossom.
Minnesota, moccasin flower.
Mississippi, magnolia.
Missouri, goldenrod.
Montana, bitter-root.
Nebraska, goldenrod.
New Jersey, sugar maple.
Nevada, sage brush.
New York, moss rose.
New Mexico, crimson rambler rose.
North Carolina, chrysanthemum.
North Dakota, goldenrod.
Ohio, buckeye.
Oklahoma, mistletoe.
Oregon, Oregon grape.
Rhode Island, violet.
South Carolina, Carolina palmetto.
South Dakota, pasque flora.
Texas, blue bonnet.
Utah, sago lily.
Vermont, red clover.
Washington, rhododendron.
Wisconsin, violet.

THE COUNTIES OF GEORGIA.

BY KATHARINE B. MASSEY.

When I was a little girl, our fad was the possession of a charmstring. This was a string of buttons, obtained by coaxing from our elders or barter with each other, and constantly added to until some of them reached the length of several yards. With delightful pride we told over the list of our treasures. "This button," one would say, "came from Cousin Mary's wedding dress; this my Uncle John gave me; this was sent to me from China by my aunt who is a missionary in Canton; and this bright brass one was on my father's uniform during the war." Much of family life and many loving associations were thus strung together for the little maiden. In some such way, but in a larger sense, our state has used the naming of its counties as a cord of gold on which to hang traditions of its past, memories of its heroes, and reverences for those who helped us when help was needed.

A group of seven counties embalms the names of the Indian tribes who owned our hills and valleys before us, who hunted the deer with flintheaded arrows where now our cities stand, and threaded their trails in silent forests where today our cotton fields are spread. They are Catoosa, Chattahoochee, Chattooga, Cherokee, Coweta, Muscogee, Oconee--how musically the syllables fall upon the ear. It is like a chime of silver bells.

Four counties may be set together as commemorating large events in history. Columbia, Oglethorpe, Liberty, and Union. The first of these was named for the dauntless sailor who, possessed with the faith which cared naught for all other men's unbelief and rising above poverty, discouragement, and mutiny, held his way westward over unknown seas to find his prophetic vision a reality. Oglethorpe bears the name of the brave soldier, courteous gentleman, and broadminded philanthropist, who founded a colony for oppressed debtors to give them a new chance in life. Liberty County has a pretty little story of its own. A band of Massachusetts Puritans, seeking a milder climate, settled first in South Carolina, and not being fully satisfied, came on to St. John's Parish, Georgia. Their distinguished devotion to the cause of liberty in the perilous days of 1776-1783 gained for them that name when the parishes were changed into counties. Union County was so named because its citizens claimed to be known as Union men, when the rest of the state stood for state rights.[1]

Another group of seven counties bears the name of English statesmen who spoke for us in the halls of Parliament and withstood the tyranny of king and nation in dealing with their brothers of America. They were the fiery-tongued orator Edmund Burke, the commoners Glynn and Wilkes, the Duke of Richmond, and the Earls of Chatham, Camden, and Effingham.

Three other foreigners, lovers of liberty, drew sword and fought in our battles, side by side with our struggling heroes. Georgia has honored herself by naming counties for Baron DeKalb, Count Pulaski, and General LaFayette.

Next comes the long muster-call of heroes whose names are written on the roll of fame as having fought for the freedom of their country--men whose names recall Bunker Hill and Valley Forge, King's Mountain and Guilford Court House, and all the grim experiences of a nation struggling for existence. Georgia has named counties for Baker, Bryan, Butts, Clarke, (Gen. Elijah, who fought the Tories in our own state), Clinch, Early, Greene, (Gen. Nathaniel, who settled on his grant of land in Georgia after the war,) Jasper, (the brave sergeant who leaped over the parapet to rescue the flag at Fort Moultrie,) Laurens, Lee (Light Horse Harry, father of the grand General of the Civil War,) Lincoln, Macon, Marion (the Swamp Fox of South Carolina,) Meriwether, Montgomery, Morgan, Newton, Putnam, Screven, Stewart, Sumter, Twiggs, Taliaferro, Warren (killed at the battle of Bunker Hill,) Wayne (Mad Anthony,) Wilkerson, Paulding, White, McIntosh--grand and glorious names that break upon the ear like a trumpet call, inspiring to deeds worthy to be ranked with theirs. The last of these names, McIntosh, was given in honor of a whole family which had contributed many sons to freedom's cause.

Seven presidents of the United States have given names to our counties. They are Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Polk, Taylor and Pierce.

The governors of Georgia have been a notable line, strong men of iron will, believers in state's rights and upholders of the dignity of the commonwealth. More than once they have withstood the national government. The list of them includes some names famous for other services to the state in the Revolution and the Civil War as well as in the halls of Congress. Those for whom counties are named are: Bulloch, Early, Elbert, Emanuel, Gilmer, Gwinnett, Habersham, Hall, Heard, Houston, Irwin, Jackson (soldier and statesman,) Jenkins (who saved the executive seal of state at the close of the Civil War and kept it until military rule was over and it could be returned to a governor legally elected by the people,) Johnson, Lumpkin, Mitchell, Rabun, Schley, Stephens (giant soul in a frail body, whose unheeded counsels as Vice-president of the Southern Confederacy might have prevented much of the bitterness that followed,) Talbot, Telfair, Towns, Troup, Walton, Forsyth, and Tattnall. Wisely and well they guided the ship of state and left a priceless heritage of precedent to their successors.

Georgia has named fourteen counties for statesmen of national fame--Calhoun, Clay, Webster--(these three made the great triumvirate whose eloquence shook the land in times when nullification and democracy were the questions of the day,) Bibb, Franklin, Brooks, Carroll, Douglas, Hancock (one of the first to lift his voice against British oppression in Massachusetts,) Henry (the immortal orator of Virginia,) Lowndes, McDuffie, Murray, and Randolph (quaint, eloquent, sarcastic John Randolph of Roanoke.)

Of her own sons whose voices have thundered in the halls of Congress, or guided her councils at home, Georgia has named counties for Abraham Baldwin (who first planned the state university,) Ben Hill (of the trumpet tongue, who first dared to reply to northern slanders, to speak the truth about Andersonville, to show that we had not food, clothing and medicine for our own soldiers and that we did the best we could for the unfortunate prisoners who fell into our hands; claiming the respect of the nation and the world for the maligned Southern Confederacy.) Berrien, Clayton, Cobb, Colquitt, Crawford, (William H., our candidate for the presidency,) Crisp, Campbell, Charlton, Dawson, Dougherty, Floyd, Haralson, Jones, Miller, Spanding, Turner, Walker, and Ware.

Six of our counties bear the names of men who spent their lives fighting the Indians. They are Appling, Coffee, Butts, Wilcox, Thomas, and Dade. Of the first of these the story is told that, in recognition of his services, the state voted him a sword with an appropriate inscription. Before it was ready for presentation the brave young soldier died. As he left no heir, the sword was kept in the state house at Milledgeville until that memorial autumn of 1864, when it disappeared. Some soldier of Sherman's army thus became richer and the State of Georgia poorer by a handsome sword.

The Mexican War left us the names of Echols, Fannin, Quitman, and Worth. Other brave soldiers of the state who have been thus honored are Glascock, Milton, Pickens, and Pike.

The Civil War gave to us the names of Bartow and Toombs. Francis C. Bartow said: "I go to illustrate Georgia," and fell on the field of the First Battle of Manassas. General Robert Toombs escaped from Georgia on his mare, Grey Alice, when every road and ferry was guarded by soldiers watching for him, made his way to England, and lived there until it was safe for him to return, remaining to the end of his life an "unreconstructed rebel."

Four counties, Dodge, Tift, Gordon, and Upson, are named for captains of industry. The United States Navy gave us the name of Decatur. Banks and Terrell are called for two beloved physicians who made their names blessed in the homes of the people for the alleviation of pain and the saving of life. In both cases the name was chosen for the county by the citizens, in loving recognition of the physician's services.

The Lost Cause left with us the name of its one president, and we who are glad that it is the Lost Cause, that slavery is no longer an institution in our midst and that Georgia takes her rightful place in the sisterhood of states, nevertheless claim the right to cherish our memories, to welcome Dixie with the rebel yell, to cover our graves with flowers on the twenty-sixth of April, to look back through a mist of tears to Gettysburg and Appomattox, and to call one of our counties Jeff Davis.

The noble preacher, Whitfield, who helped to establish the Bethesda Orphan's Home, gave his name to one county; and Henry Grady, silver-tongued and golden-hearted orator who helped to heal the wounds of war and drew together the North and the South into renewed brotherhood, is remembered in the name of another. Rockdale is so called from its granite rocks and wooded dales. One is named for Robert Fulton, the inventor, one for Harris, a prominent jurist, and last of all, Georgia has named one county for a woman--red-headed, cross-eyed, Tory-hating, liberty-loving Nancy Hart.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] But Georgia was at that time intensely Union, although believing in State rights.

AN HISTORIC TREE.

MRS. R. C. LITTLE, _Fielding Lewis Chapter_.

More than a hundred years ago, a tiny acorn, dropped by some frisky squirrel or flitting bird, fell to the ground, where it lay unheeded and unknown. Pelted by winter storms, it sank deep into the soft earth where it was nourished and fed, sending out rootlets to take firm hold of the kind mother who had sheltered it.

Soon the summer's sun called it from its underground bed and still clinging with its thread-like roots, it pushed up a green head and looked around the beautiful scenes of woodland, mountain and sky.

Pleased with what it saw, it lifted its head brighter and higher until it became a mighty oak, a monarch of the forest. Birds and squirrels made their homes in it and beneath its shade rested the weary.

All the country around belonged to and was inhabited by the Cherokee Indians, of all known tribes the most civilized and enlightened. No doubt their papooses swung on the branches of this magnificent tree and played under its wide spreading arms.

With the coming of the white man, a town grew up--lovely Marietta, still nestling amid the shadows of Kennesaw, and the Indians were asked to leave their happy homes, and go to strange lands further West. Bewildered and uncomprehending, they were unwilling to go, and groups of them were often seen beneath this same mighty oak--mighty even then, conferring with the whites, and discussing by signs and gestures, the momentous question. When, finally, they were persuaded to accept the proposition of the government, they met in council beneath their favorite tree and signed the treaty, by which they agreed to leave their beautiful North Georgia homes forever.

Within the memory of the oldest inhabitants, the grand oak became historic. It is still standing, and has showed no signs of age, until a fiery bolt found its lofty height and scathed it far down its trunk.

It stands in the yard of Mrs. H. G. Cole, and is, notwithstanding its somewhat crippled condition, the admiration of all beholders. Its girth near the ground is somewhat over eight feet, and seven feet from the ground it measures considerably more than twelve feet around.

Mrs. Cole, though not aged herself, has seen four generations of her own family disporting beneath this noble tree, and should it fall because of age and decay, she and her children would miss and mourn it as a dear lost friend.

INDEPENDENCE DAY.

Original poem by Mrs. C. M. O'Hara, Greenville, Ga., read on the Fourth of July, 1912, at the meeting of David Meriwether Chapter:

It has been one hundred and thirty-six years
Since our forefathers laid aside all fears
Of the mother country, and boldly said:
The price of liberty in blood should be paid.
The Continental Congress in Philadelphia met
And resolved that we should independence get,
Thomas Jefferson wrote a long declaration,
Which England said was a sad desecration.
So our mother tried to exercise her right
To tax her children and forbidding the fight.
The battles of Lexington, Bunker Hill and others
Showed England that we were no longer brothers,
After the first gun of the revolution was heard
The Americans lost fear of King George the third;
They determined with Franklin together to stand
And hold fast at any cost the cherished land.
Over a century has passed, the patriots are dust,
In the homes of many daughters their good swords rust,
But the celebration of Independence on the Fourth of July
In the hearts of Americans we trust will never die.

KITTY.

ETHEL HILLYER HARRIS.

_Written for the Xavier Chapter of the D. A. R., Rome, Ga._

"Ah! woman in this world of ours,
What boon can be compared to thee?
How slow would drag life's weary hours,
Though man's proud brow were bound in flowers,
And his the wealth of land and sea,
If destined to exist alone
And, ne'er call woman's heart his own."

_--Morris._