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life, the calm courage in the gloom of his death, his early love and disappointment, surrounded him with a halo of poetry and pity which have secured for him what he most sought and could never have won in battles and sieges-a fame and recognition which have outlived that of all the generals under whom he served.

Are kings only grateful, and do republics forget? Is fame a travesty, and the judgment of mankind a farce? America had a parallel case in Captain Nathan Hale. Of the same age as André, he graduated at Yale College with high honors, enlisted in the patriot cause at the beginning of the contest, and secured the love and confidence of all about him. When none else would go upon a most important and perilous mission he volunteered, and was captured by the British. While André received every kindness, courtesy, and attention, and was fed from Washington's table, Hale was thrust into a noisome dungeon in the sugar-house. While André was tried by a board of officers and had ample time and every facility for defense, Hale was summarily ordered to execution the next morning. While André's last wishes and behests were sacredly followed, the infamous Cunningham tore from Hale his cherished Bible and destroyed before his eyes his last letters to his mother and sister, and asked him what he had to say. "All I have to say," was his reply, "is, I regret I have but one life to lose for my country." His death was concealed for months, because Cunningham said he did not want the rebels to know they had a man who could die so bravely. And yet, while André

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rests in that grandest of mausoleums, where the proudest of nations garners the remains and perpetuates the memories of its most eminent and honored children, the name and deeds of Nathan Hale have passed into oblivion, and only a simple tomb in a village church-yard marks his resting-place. The dying declarations of André and Hale express the animating spirit of their several armies, and teach why, with all her power, England could not conquer America. "I call upon you to witness that I die like a brave man," said André, and he spoke from British and Hessian surroundings, seeking only glory and pay. "I regret I have but one life to lose for my country," said Hale; and with him and his comrades self was forgotten in that absorbing, passionate patriotism which. pledges fortune, honor, and life to the sacred cause.


By HELEN STEVENS Conant, Author. B. 1839, Massachusetts. Stavoren is situated on the northern shore of the entrance to the Zuyder Zee. From the fourth to the thirteenth century it was a famous seaport. Then it began to decay, a huge sand-bar gradually forming in front of the harbor. At the present day only a few huts mark the site of the once magnificent city. The sand-bar is known as the Lady's Bank," and peasants tell this legend of the wrong-doing of a proud and wicked queen.

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UPON the shores of Zuyder Zee, where lands are

broad and low,

There stood a proud and stately town in centuries

long ago;

* From Harper's Young People,-Copyright 1888, Harper & Brothers.

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Stavoren was its name, and there the burghers saw with pride

The great ships as they came and went upon the flowing tide

Ships from the Indies far away, with freight of spice and gold

For the burghers of Stavoren, the men of wealth untold. But rich and proud above them all was a maid of high


Who owned a hundred mighty ships that sailed on every sea.

A stately palace was her home, with floors inlaid with gold,

And many wondrous stories of her treasure heaps were told;

No queen in greater splendor dwelt, and many jewels


Upon her raiment glittered, and in her golden hair.

One day the captain of her fleet, a skipper gray and wise, She called to her, and spake to him, with cruel glistening eyes:

"Go, weigh thy anchor, sail away! This task I lay on thee,

To seek and bring to port the best contained in land or sea."

The skipper spread his glistening sails, but sore perplexed was he

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To know what was the best of all contained in land

or sea;

But suddenly it came to him, as the ship ploughed through the main,

That the noblest thing in all the earth was God's own gift of grain.

And anchoring in a distant port, he found the people there

Rejoicing with festivities about the harvest fair;

So golden, rich, and goodly was never grain before. He loaded with the precious freight, and homeward sailed once more.

And when he reached Stavoren, and stood again on


He hastened to the palace to report his noble store. But pale with rage his mistress grew. "How dar'st thou, wretch," she said,

"To bring to me miserable grain, from which the poor make bread?"

Then to her trembling servants she gave this stern command:

"Go, cast the grain into the sea; and I myself will


To watch and see the work well done, down by the water's side,

And joy to see the rubbish float upon the ebbing tide."

The news flew forth. From every side the poor came crowding there



To beg this haughty maiden the precious grain to


"Our suffering little ones," they cried, "they die for lack of bread;

For Christ's sake, lady, hear us, that our children may be fed!"

She laughed a laugh of cruel scorn, as the grain fell in the sea,

When before her stood the skipper, and pale with wrath was he.

He raised his hand: "O woman, not a year shall pass before

Through this proud city thou shalt beg thy bread from door to door."

A ring she from her finger drew and cast it in the sea. "My riches shall endure," she cried, "till that comes back to me."

That very night a fisher laid the ring within her hand; That very night her ships were strewn in pieces on the strand.

And day by day quick messengers arrived from far and near

With news of sore disasters, which she grew pale to hear.

Her riches flew like drifting sand before the desert's


She stood a beggar in the street before a year had


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