Dear God, Alva's men were sweeping back across the Rio Grande! One little frightened boy had saved the day for the country that had given him refuge from oppression.

But what was that? A call for help? Whose voice was that? Riego plunged into the thick of the dust cloud toward the cry, and dropped by Pascual's side. How could he have known that his brother would ride that night with the invaders! But Pascual was striving to speak. Riego leaned over him and caught the whisper:

"Lorente shot me down to get my horse and escape!" And now the gringos were circling round the wounded one they would beat out his brains with their guns! But but why, they were lifting him up, and tenderly! the Americans were lifting up his wounded brother!

Many and bewildering were the things which happened to Riego in the next few hours. First, he and the all-but-dead Pascual were carried by the soldiers to the American camp. Then his brother was taken away from him and borne into a closed tent.

The soldiers gathered around Riego and patted him on the shoulder. They gave him many things things to eat and coins and pocket-knives and tobacco tags, all the while challenging him to smile-he whose captured brother was yonder! Later the big captain sent for him and took him. by the hand.

"Riego Yañez," he said, "I am proud to shake hands with an American hero!"

At length a tall soldier came to Riego and led him to the closed tent. But the tall soldier did not enter; he merely pushed the boy inside the tent and dropped the khaki flap.

Riego blinked his eyes. Somebody was lying stretched out

on a cot, and somebody was fanning him the Beautiful One and his brother! Riego crept toward her suddenly outstretched hands.

Then he leaned over Pascual. But Pascual's eyes were closed and on his face was a yellow pallor.

"The surgeon has taken out the ball," whispered the Beautiful One. "He will live, with good nursing, and I am on the job." She paused a moment, then asked, as she looked into his face with concern: "Aren't you happy, you tragic little soldier? Why don't you smile at the good news?" "How" began the child and a strange, sick feeling swept over him- "how long before he will be well enough to be stood against a wall- and—”

"Why, you poor child!"—and the big tears sprang to the señorita's eyes "your brother will not be stood against a

going to be shut up in prison, either!"

"But why, señorita? Why? The big captain knows that he was with Alva's men."

"He is youngjust a boy," and the señorita laid a tender hand upon the head of the wounded lad. "He is the son of good parents and brother to -Oh, you tragic little soldier, can't you guess who it is has saved your brother?"

"You, señorita?"

'Yourself, Riego. Because you have been heroically loyal they are to give your brother another chance. We Americans, Riego" — and her white hand closed upon his own to include him with her "we Americans are going to nurse Pascual back to a better life and teach him how to be free!"

The sick lad stirred on his cot. When the Beautiful One leaned over him in quick solicitude, he smiled.

COLUMBIA'S EMBLEM

EDNA DEAN PROCTOR

The rose may bloom for England,
The lily for France unfold;
Ireland may honor the shamrock,
Scotland her thistle bold;

But the shield of the great Republic,

The glory of the West,

Shall bear a stalk of the tasseled Corn

The Sun's supreme bequest!

The arbutus and the goldenrod

The heart of the North may cheer,
And the mountain laurel for Maryland
Its royal clusters rear,
And jasmine and magnolia

The crest of the South adorn;
But the wide Republic's emblem
Is the bounteous, golden Corn!

OPPORTUNITY

EDWARD ROWLAND SILL

This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle's edge,

And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel

That blue blade that the king's son bears, but this

Blunt thing!" he snapt and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.

Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,

And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.

BUGLE SONG

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
Oh, sweet and far from cliff and scar

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow for ever and for ever.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

ABOU BEN ADHEM

LEIGH HUNT

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold;
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night

It came again, with a great wakening light,

And showed the names whom love of God had blessed; And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

GRADATIM

JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true:

That a noble deed is a step toward God,