See America First

place. There are so many places of interest in this city that space forbids an enumeration of only a few of the most important. You will probably want to see the State House with

ed-an extension to the rear in 7889, later a wing

William Lloyd Garrison delivered his first address and "America" was sung in public for the first time. "Standing on the steps of the State House, facing the Common, you are looking toward Saint Gaudens' bronze relief of Col. Robert G. Shaw, commanding his colored regiment. T

ary lights of the United States, and just to the west of it, in Mount Auburn cemetery, lie the

very impressive. As we crossed the river, we thought how often our beloved Longfellow had looked on its peaceful tide from his charming home in Cambridge. The view from his home is sti

t in silen

meadows brig

th thy rest

osom of

ears of min

t, and half

n thy wate

ke the str

aught me, S

sson, dee

been a gen

e thee bu

ness and i

hed thy cur

eauty of i

ed me li

er hours an

w thy wat

my heart b

pward with

is alone I

se thy wa

tial seas

r own cel

adowy woodla

waters d

ve have dwel

ade thy ma

ng to our hearts messages of sympathy and love! Even as the years pass, Longfellow is still the universal poet, and it was with pleasure we recalled how the Belgian childr

hes over the old homesteads, we did not wonder that the people of New England became alarmed when the ravages of the gypsy moth threatened the trees. At Elmwood we saw the efforts the peop

as a great horse chestnut tree beside the house, towering above the gable, covered with blossoms. The poet looked up and laid his

, we thought of the inspiration this spot afford

ir gold and kna

s bubbles ri

ield or trai

tree is mo

read about the fam

rvelous tree to thin

nalyze your emotions

pot gazing at t

ng, in the nearby woods Indians and fierce, wild beasts brushed past its companions. Perhaps the squaws fastened their linden cradles to their limbs while they planted their maize in the sp

wealth of emerald leaves to golden glory. Winter upon winter twisted their tough bran

grace, without signs of any weakness, proclaiming it the king of trees. Here once stood "a man of great soundness of judgment, moral self-control, intense fiery passions curbed by

h all those years of toil and strife. Perhaps a few more years and this venerable tree shall yield to some wintry blast; its present site to be marked by a monument of bronze or marble. But how much more fitting would it be to plant a young tree where the old one stood. This would be a living monument where its cooling shadows would still fall upon the weary travelers "like a benediction on the road of life." Here pilgrims from Maine to California's farthest bounds might some day rest beneath its beneficent branches. We fancy how they will gaze in admiration at a new tree,

armory of The Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company, the oldest military company in this country. Old North Church is known to every school boy and girl in the land as the place where Paul Revere saw the two lights that were his signal for starting on his memorable ride. Over the river is Bunker Hill Monument, recalling that resolute stand made by the

ncil sat. It was from the balcony on the State street side that the news of the Declaration of Independence was proclaimed. Here, in 1835,

g in Boston. It was erected in 1712 and is known as The Old Corner Book Store. Some of the

two years. St. Gaudens' statue of Brooks stands in front of the church. Also facing this square is the chaste and classic front of the Boston Public Library. Two of Saint Gaudens' groups adorn enormous pedestals at either side of the entrance

fence, no side of which is more than five or six feet long, in which is growing a single tree. To this is attached a sign pr

m Ruskin's extravagant enconium where he says, 'I believe if I were induced to rest Turner's immortality upon any single work I should choose the Slave Ship; the color is absolutely perfect,' to the frank disapproval of our own George Innes, when he says that it is 'the most infernal piec

e humble peasants. As you gaze at the great mounds of wheat with the crowd of laborers resting, you seem to catch the very spirit of the dignity of labor that the artist so a

sturdy oaks tried by the storms and stress of unnumbered days of exposure. His Shepherdess is also worth considering and represents his aim in art." These are his words: "I would wish that the beings I represent

ging, dew-tipped branches. They are vast harps through which wandering breezes murmur aeolian melodies, "morning and evening anthems" to the Creator. His paintings have a freshness and fragrance of the dawn; a my

f near the foot of a mountain. He began the ascent but was met by a panther, light and exceedingly swift. He was about to return, but the time was the beginning of morning.

Longfellow so clearly describes in his "Village Blacksmith." It is to the eye what the

ow Homer's "Fog Warning," John W. Alexander's "Isabella and the Pot of Basil." This last picture

n which Lorenzo appeared to her and told of his murder and how to find his grave. In the morning she found the grave and took the skull and kissed it. "Then in a silken scarf she wrapped it up, and for its tomb did choose a garden-pot wherein she laid it by, and covered

on to be had by contemplating them, but a trip to Boston is not complete unl

s beginning was an avenue of stately buckeye trees in their autumn livery of faded green and gold. Back and forth along this road went Red Cross ambulances on their ceaseless journeys of mercy. The sky that should have been blue and

to Glorieux hospital, where E. H. No. 15 was located. It was here that we learned to know and love him. His hopeful, helpful spirit shone above the dark gloom of the time like a beacon light. How often, when we wi

the attention of Lieutenant Hanley and he said: "I hate to see that German suffer so. H

ey of the 101st Infantry, Company A, of that division, grew radiant as he said: "How I love to hear those old melodies." Then for a time he seemed to forget his hard lot and wandered again in fair New England f

rvice, and a lovely mother walking and praying in her lonely home. The burden of their prayer is ever 'the same; morning and night it rises to Him for the safe return of a dear brother and son. As that absen

ands for the last time, while he said "I shall never forget you." As the litter bearers were passing through the door he put up his hand as a last farewell, saying he wo

ng, and the nightingale from the snowy hawthorn spray warbles divinely at even. French mothers who have lost all their sons in the war shall come with their tribute of blossoms to those vast cities of the dead. Here while the flowers fall unnoticed from their tr

o his mother just before he left the United States. How like those roses was he-the most perfect flower of all. The dew of youth

e flits 'cro

f fair Elys

f the old

memories swi

the trenches

e him home ac

to self, to

ng a land he

on that

bell gave fo

ed casket, s

not of eart

pon a flow

hue of su

the maste

earl of gre

-tinted cl

grant bree

form swiftl

ade in dawn's

t the mist

o'er the p

ateway in

with God shal