THE GLORIOUS FOURTH. 23 



wading once again the ponds and sloughs of the 

 Wabash valley, with hope still reigning in my 

 heart ambition still stirring in my soul. Such 

 is the trend of thought of revery which the 

 scent of a cyme of elder blossoms begets in the 

 brain of a midle-aged man on a morning in 

 June. 



v. 



July 4, '99. To-day the eagle screams the 

 bunting waves merrily in the breeze the can- 

 nons belch forth fire and booming sound the 

 giant crackers explode with resounding reverber- 

 ation. To-day hundreds will be maimed and 

 scores killed in endeavoring to "fitly celebrate" 

 the natal day of a great nation. To-day, less 

 than half a mile distant, a surging crowd will 

 congregatehas congregated. Fiery words of 

 eloquence will be spoken, extolling the heroes of 

 '76 ; vaunting the growth of a great republic. 



I shun, however, that crowded mass of hu- 

 manity, and here, beneath the great white oak 

 that spreads its limbs above my boulders here, 

 stretched out upon the bosom of mother earth 



