him honor, or trying to understand what he has done for us. A dreary
world ours would be, if there were no poets' songs echoing through it;
and we may be proud of our country that it has a poetry of its own,
which it is for us to know and possess for ourselves.

Longfellow has said:

"What the leaves are to the forest
With light and air and food,
Ere their sweet and tender juices
Have been hardened into wood,
That to the world, are children":

and something like this we may say of his songs. There is in all true
poetry a freshness of life which makes the writer of it immortal.

The singer so much beloved has passed from sight, but the music of his
voice is in the air, and, listening to it, we know that he can not die.

[Illustration]




=Inauguration Day=

_March 4_


The date was settled by the old Congress of the Confederation in 1788,