TO ADMIRAL GEORGE DEWEY.

to Admiral George Dewey.

YOUNGEST descendant of a glorious line,—
Jones, Perry, Hull, Decatur, heroes bold,
Who fought this nation's brave sea fights of old,
And Farragut, whose great deeds on the brine
Through our wild civil strife with fierce glow

Dewey, all hail! With theirs is now enrolled

Thy name; with theirs thy story will be told; Thy country's praise and gratitude are thine;

Thy daring sally in Manila Bay

Has stirred the whole world's pulse, and well begun

The war for human rights we wage to-day

With consecrated sword. Hero, well done!
Thy fleet was Heaven-directed in that fray,
No grander battle e'er yet fought and won.

-Virginia Vaughan.

& Song of the Fleet.

'E'RE faring with the fleet

WE'

Where the ocean billows beat;

Love sends on singing sea-winds his messages so

sweet;

And speed our brave ships well

Where the ocean thunders swell.

The prayers and tears of Love are theirs,

Speed well! Speed well! Speed well!

We're faring with the fleet

Where the isles rejoicing greet

The flag for which the patriot hearts of cheer

ing millions beat;

And speed our brave ships well

Till shouts of Victory swell;

The prayers and tears of Love are theirs,

Speed well! Speed well! Speed well!

- Frank L. Stanton.

THE AWAKENING OF UNCLE SAM.

The Awakening of Uncle Sam.

“OH, Uncle Sam," they said, “has grown fat and

loves his ease,

And he lingers long at table, and distends his growing girth;

The strong arm we used to know has grown sluggard-like and slow,

And they mock his smug indifference to the ends of all the earth.

"As his money-bags grow heavy does his love of man grow small,

As his cushioned chair grows softer does his calloused heart grow hard;

He is careless of his fame, and the glory of his name, And the vision of the prophet, and the rapture of

the bard.

"And the tyrants in their anger lash their slaves before his eyes,

And he turns his sleepy features tow'rd their faces hot with tears,

And he sits between his seas in his soft, voluptuous

ease,

And the voices of their torment smite his undiscern

ing ears."

Ah, the slander of the tongues that proclaimed his heart was cold!

Ah, the error of the dotage that believed his arm was weak!

Ah, the folly, mad and dire, that provoked the slow

to ire,

And the pride that's in the careless, and the might that's in the meek!

He has risen from his feasting, the old look is on his

face,

For the voices of the helpless and the dying throng

his path,

For he sees at last their tears, and their groans are in

his ears,

And his arm is clothed with thunder, and his heart is nerved with wrath!

We have wronged him, the forbearing, him the patient, slow to smite,

And we love him more than ever, and are prouder of his fame;

And we weep the taunts we uttered and whispered sneers we muttered, —

For the guns before Manila silenced all the tongues of blame.

Sam Walter Foss.

CUBA'S APPEAL.

Cuba's Appeal.

FAIREST of the blue Antilles,

Scarred by the foeman's sword and steel, Our hearts leap to thy mute appeal.

Shall we pass with averted eye,
Or but the tribute of a sigh,

Where Cuban brothers, starving, lie?

Where babes wail on the icy breast
Of mothers in their long, last rest,
Dead, amid horrors unexpressed?

Where fathers watch with anguished eye,
While famished children gasp and die,
Their only roof the pitying sky?

Ah, could we deaf and silent be 'Mid all this untold agony,

Nor strike a blow for Cuba free,

Methinks our valiant dead would rise
And, from the depths of sightless eyes,
Transfix us with their mute surprise: