they do equal honor to his principles and his talents.-NatInt.)"

It would appear that this famous song had not yet received its characteristic name, by which it has long been so well known throughout the civilized world. With the name of its author, Francis S. Key, it is destined to live as long as American independence shall hold a record in the history of mankind.

In Mr. Charles J. Ingersoll's "Sketch of the Second War between the United States and Great Britain," pubblished in 1849, the following not less interesting account is given as having been furnished to him by "a gentleman of Bladensburg," writing of the remarkable battle fought there on the 24th of August, 1814.

"The [British] army having passed the village of Upper Marlborough en route for their shipping (the second day after the battle), leaving several stragglers to follow, several gentlemen of that village formed the determination to cut some of them off and make them prisoners of war. The principal of these gentlemen were Dr. William Beans, as prime mover, and General Robert Bowie and John Rodgers, who succeeded in making several prisoners, who were confined. The British officers, hearing of this occurrence, however, that night sent back a strong party to the village, who liberated the prisoners, and, taking these gentlemen out of their beds, hurried them off without allowing them a moment to clothe themselves, and, thus placing them on old horses, carried them, no doubt amid the jeers of the soldiery, to the shipping. After many entreaties and expostulations, two of the gentlemen were let off and permitted to return to Upper Marlborough, but they considered Dr. Beans a fair prize, and determined to take him to Halifax or England. Having the doctor on board, the fleet left the Patuxent River, and, ascending the Chesapeake Bay, appeared off Fort M'Henry. The numerous and influential friends of Dr. Beans immediately set to work to devise some plan by which an effort might be made to obtain his release from the fleet. Accordingly a petition was signed by some of the most respectable citizens of Prince George's County, among whom were individuals who had acted very kindly towards Colonel Wood and other British officers and soldiers who had been left [wounded] in Bladensburg, on the return of the British army, of which the commander of the army or fleet was no doubt aware. These preparations being made, the eloquent and talented Francis S.

Key, the friend of Dr. Beans, was appointed as the messenger and champion to go to the rescue. He accordingly proceeded to Annapolis, and, by means of a small craft and the white flag, he boarded the Admiral's ship, to make known his mission. The fleet being about to make an attack on Fort M'Henry, while the army effected a landing at North Point, Mr. Key was detained on board, and compelled, from his position, to witness the furious bombardment of Fort M'Henry. The novelty of his situation, a near view of the powerful means then operating for the reduction of Baltimore to the power of the enemy, and the further desecration of the American flag, his solicitude for the successful resistance of his countrymen, and noble emotions of a patriot heart thus excited and warmed, produced, amid the storm and strife by which he was surrounded, a memento worthy of the man and honorable to his country; and long will the 'Star-Spangled Banner' be sung, to light up in every American bosom the sacred fire of patriotic devotion to the flag of his country."

Francis S. Key was born in 1779, and died (I think) in Washington, in 1843. I remember him about that time as a mild, agreeable, entertaining gentleman; and I also recall the fact of having, on a Sunday afternoon, heard him eloquently address the Sunday-school scholars of the city in the East-Capitol park.

PART IV.

CHAPTER I.

EMPLOYMENT NECESSARY TO HAPPINESS

In every age and clime since Time began,
In town and city, hence to far Japan,

The world has aye been furnished, ready made,
With hosts of doctors, often poorly paid,
Whose mission, whether singly or combined,
Has been to tinker and improve mankind.
Some set themselves our bodies to amend,
And they are dubbed " M.D.," but for what end?
Then others take the title "LL.D.,"

And others "D.D.," as their high degree,

While those are common who these honors lack,
On whom the world confers the title "quack."
Some deal in doses gentle, some severe,
Some for effects hereafter, others here-
Prescriptions, whether from their heads or shelves,
Which they are seldom known to take themselves,
Thus demonstrating clearly what the fact is,
How much more easy 'tis to preach than practise.

Well, so it is, among this class you find.
Your poet here to-day, with heart inclined
To proffer in this way a wholesome pill,
One made to ease and cure, and not to kill,—
Lest, when you come his title to proclaim,
The letter "Q" be added to his name!

It matters not; 'tis now, alas! too late,

Do what he may, for him to shun his fate;

877

Your kind forbearance, therefore, he would ask,
To bear him safely through his pleasant task.

At once, then, let us offer, if we can,
The best prescriptions for the ills of man.
What may these be? Foremost among them all
Is what we ever have been taught to call
LABOR; a tonic, potent, free, and sure
A thousand ills to stop, if not to cure.
Yes, labor, labor, in His glorious plan,
God's noblest blessing to His creature, man.
Where seek we first the ruddy bloom of health,
A boon without which none can boast of wealth?
Where but among the happy, free and gay,
Where honest labor rules the livelong day?

Go, visit yonder farm-house on the green,
If it so happen you have never been,
And see what favors fortune doth allow

To him whose pride it is to hold the plough.

Go, in a summer eve, near set of sun,

And when the well-planned, hard day's work is done,
See how the farmer and his rugged boys,

The wife and daughters, cherish life's rich joys,
Free from the cares that hinder or destroy
The calm delight of those who shun employ.
Behold his fields of richly-waving grain,

Moved by the breeze that sweeps along the plain;
See how they smile, kiss'd by the rosy lips.
Of mellow sunbeams ere the night's eclipse;
In shade just changing to a golden hue—
In every aspect beautiful to view.

Next turn we to those forests, deeply green,
That in their mimic grandeur may be seen
Spread out in rows well suited to adorn
Broad acres covered thick with Indian corn.

Look with what care all weeds have been removed,
How every means of thrift has been improved,
To aid the willing stalk for well-formed ear,
And bring a bounteous crop for winter's cheer.
Then see those other "patches" in between,
More modest, since their treasures are unseen.
Oh, come, immortal muses! show the way to
Immortalize that unpoetic plant, potato-

That glorious fruit, the French call pommes de terre,
Which meets a ready welcome everywhere,

Alike in palace, cabin, and in tent;
Would I could all its virtues here present!
What, let me ask, was General Marion's roast,
He set before his haughty British host,
When, without other courses, fruit or wine,
He asked him one day at his tent to dine?
What but potatoes, mealy, sweet, and good?
"Behold," he said, "our wholesome daily food."
Well might the British general quick discern,
And well the British lion truly learn
The folly of contending with a foe
Thus ready every comfort to forego.
Not every comfort, either, since we see
They had potatoes plenty, duty free.

But we have rambled, and are passing by
Those splendid sights that all around us lie.
See there the garden, crowded with all kinds
Of fruits and flowers, while near its border winds.
The mountain stream, whose crystal waters flow,
In merry glee, to greet the lake below.

What recollections scenes like these awake-
The mountain stream, the field, the placid lake—
Of boyhood's pleasant hours, when full of life
We dwelt contented, free from worldly strife;