1. Read the line in each column which best shows the chief reason for the pride of each boy.

2. Which boy in your opinion seems to have the greater love for America? Is the "past" or the "future" a better reason for devotion? Which of the two Americans has the greater cause for loyalty?

3. What does the poet think are the chief reasons for the coming of immigrants to America? Explain whether the motives of 1920 are different from those of 1620.

4. Explain these expressions: "stanch hearts of mine"; "every drop of blood in me holds a heritage of freedom."

5. Explain the historical references in the fourth, fifth, and sixth lines of the left-hand column. If necessary, find the answers in an American history or an encyclopedia.

6. What do the second, third, and fourth lines of the right-hand column mean?

7. Have any of your ancestors given you a heritage of service to

America? Explain.

3. THE CITIZEN

JAMES FRANCIS DWYER

About a year after the beginning of the World War two thousand foreigners, who had recently been naturalized, were welcomed to American citizenship at a great gathering in Philadelphia. The times were critical: submarine warfare with all its cruelty had recently been begun; three days before, the passenger ship Lusitania had been sunk with a loss of one hundred twelve Americans; many people felt that the United States was on the verge of war, and that the loyalty of all Americans, both native-born and foreign-born, would soon be severely tested. Several thousand men and women listened intently to the chief address on this occasion, given by President Wilson. Stirred by the dramatic nature of the event, Mr. Dwyer, himself a naturalized American, wrote this story.

The President of the United States was speaking. His audience comprised two thousand foreign-born men who had just been admitted to citizenship. They listened intently, their faces aglow with the light of a new-born patriotism, upturned to the calm, intellectual face of the first citizen of the country they now claimed as their own.

Here and there among the newly made citizens were wives and children. The women were proud of their men. They looked at them from time to time, their faces showing pride and awe.

One little woman, sitting immediately in front of the President, held the hand of a big muscular man and stroked it softly. The big man was looking at the speaker with great blue eyes that were the eyes of a dreamer.

The President's words came clear and distinct:

"You were drawn across the ocean by some beckoning finger of hope, by some belief, by some vision of a new kind of justice, by some expectation of a better kind of life. You dreamed dreams of this country, and I hope you brought the dreams with you. A man enriches the country to which he brings dreams, and you who have brought them have enriched America."

The big man made a curious choking noise and his wife

breathed a soft "Hush!" The giant was strangely affected. The President continued:

"No doubt you have been disappointed in some of us, but remember this, if we have grown at all poor in the ideal, you brought some of it with you. A man does not go out to seek the thing that is not in him. A man does not hope for the thing that he does not believe in, and if some of us have forgotten what America believed in, you at any rate imported in your own hearts a renewal of the belief. Each of you, I am sure, brought a dream, a glorious, shining dream, a dream worth more than gold or silver, and that is the reason that I, for one, make you welcome."

The big man's eyes were fixed. His wife shook him gently, but he did not heed her. He was looking past the speaker's platform, through the big buildings behind it, looking out over leagues of space to a snow-swept village on an island in the Beresina, the swift-flowing tributary of the mighty Dnieper, an island that looked like a black bone stuck tight in the maw of the stream.

It was in the little village on the Beresina that the Dream came to Ivan Berloff.

The Dream came in the spring. All great dreams come in the spring, and the Spring Maiden who brought Big Ivan's Dream was more than ordinarily beautiful. She swept up the Beresina, trailing wondrous draperies of vivid green. Her feet touched the snow-hardened ground, and armies of little white and blue flowers sprang up in her footsteps.

The father of Big Ivan, who had fought under Prince Menshikov fifty-five years before, hobbled out to see the sunbeams eat up the snow that hid in the shady places.

"The little breezes are hot and sweet," he said, sniffing hungrily, with his face turned toward the south. "They have the spice odor that I sniffed on the winds that came to us when we soldiers lay in the trenches. Praise God for the warmth!"

And that day the Dream came to Big Ivan as he ploughed. Like his father, he sniffed the sweet-smelling breezes. He

reached down and plucked one of a bunch of white flowers that had sprung up over night. The Dream was born of the breezes and the sunshine and the spring flowers.

That evening Big Ivan spoke to his wife, Anna, a little woman, who had a sweet face and a wealth of fair hair. "Wife, we are going away from here," he said.

"Where are we going, Ivan?" she asked.

"Where do you think, Anna?" he said, looking down at her as she stood by his side.

"To Bobruisk," she murmured.

"No."
"Farther?"

"Ay, a long way farther."

Fear sprang into her soft eyes. Bobruisk was eighty-nine versts away, yet Ivan said they were going farther.

"We- we are not going to Minsk?" she cried.

"Ay, and beyond Minsk !"

"Ivan, tell me!" she gasped. "Tell me where we are going!"

"We are going to America."

"To America?"

"Yes, to America!"

Big Ivan lifted up his voice when he cried out the words "To America," and then a sudden fear sprang upon him as those words dashed through the little window out into the darkness of the village street. Was he mad? America was eight thousand versts away! It was far across the ocean, a place where he knew no one.

Anna remained staring at her big husband for a few minutes, then she sat down quietly at his side. There was a strange look in his big blue eyes the look of a man to whom has come a vision, the look which came into the eyes of those shepherds of Judea long, long ago.

"What is it, Ivan?" she murmured softly, patting his big hand. "Tell me."

And Big Ivan, slow of tongue, told of the Dream. To no

one else would he have told it. Anna understood. She had a way of patting his hands and saying soft things when his tongue could not find words to express his thoughts.

Ivan told how the Dream had come to him as he ploughed. He told her how it had sprung upon him, a dream born of the soft breezes, of the sunshine, of the sweet smell of the upturned sod, and of his own strength. "It wouldn't come to weak men," he said, baring an arm that showed great muscles rippling beneath the clear skin. "It is a dream that comes only to those who are strong and whose who want - who want something that they haven't got." Then in a lower voice he said, "What is it that we want, Anna?"

The little wife looked out into the darkness with fear-filled eyes. There were spies in that little village of the Beresina, and it was dangerous to say words that might be regarded as a reflection on the government. But she answered Ivan. She stopped and whispered one word into his ear, and he slapped his thigh with his big hand.

"Ay," he cried, "that is what we want! You and I and millions like us want it, and over there, Anna, over there we shall get it."

Anna stood up, took a small jar from a side shelf, dusted it carefully, and placed it upon the mantel. From a knotted cloth about her neck she took a ruble and dropped the coin into the jar. Big Ivan looked at her curiously.

"It is to make legs for your Dream," she explained. "It is many versts to America, and one rides on rubles."

"You are a good wife," he said. "I was afraid that you might laugh at me."

"It is a great dream," she murmured.

The Dream maddened Ivan during the days that followed. He wanted to be moving, but Anna had said that one rode on rubles, and rubles were hard to find.

In some mysterious way the village became aware of the secret. Donkov the tailor discovered it. Donkov lived in one half of the cottage occupied by Ivan and Anna, and he