"THIS IS AMERICA, ME.

ARMITAGE" Lo! as I came to the crest of the hill, the sun on the heights had arisen, The dew on the grass was shining, and white was the mist on the vale; Like a lark on the wing of the dawn I sang; like a guiltless one freed from his prison, As backward I gazed through the valley, and saw no one on my trail.
-- L.

Frank Tooker.
Spring, planting green and gold banners on old Virginia battle-fields, crossed the Potomac and occupied Washington.
Shirley Claiborne called for her horse and rode forth to greet the conqueror.

The afternoon was keen and sunny, and she had turned impatiently from a tea, to which she was committed, to seek the open.

The call of the outdoor gods sang in her blood.