storms baffled his sunward flight. Even with Washington in the van, the column wavered and halted-States straggled to the rear that had hitherto been foremost for permanent Union, under an efficacious Constitution. And while three years rolled by amidst the jargon of sectional and local contentions, "the half-starved government," as Washington depicted it, "limped along on crutches, tottering at every step." And while monarchical Europe with saturnine face declared that the American hope of Union was the wild and visionary notion of romance, and predicted that we would be to the end of time a disunited people, suspicious and distrustful of each other, divided and subdivided into petty commonwealths and principalities, lo! the very earth yawned under the feet of America, and in that very region whence had come forth a glorious band of orators, statesmen, and soldiers to plead the cause and fight the battles of Independence-lo! the volcanic fires of Rebellion burst forth upon the heads of the faithful, and the militia were leveling the guns of the Revolution against the breasts of their brethren. "What, gracious God! is man?" Washington exclaimed: "It was but the other day that we were shedding our blood to obtain the Constitutions under which we live, and now we are unsheathing our swords to overturn them."

But see! there is a ray of hope, Maryland and Virginia had already entered into a commercial treaty for regulating the navigation of the rivers and great bay in which they had common interests, and Washington had been one of the Commissioners in its negotiation. And now, at the suggestion of Maryland, Virginia had called on all the States to meet in convention at Annapolis, to adopt commercial relations for the whole country. Could this foundation be laid, the eyes of the Nation-builders foresaw that the permanent structure would ere long rise upon it. But when the day of meeting came, no State north of New York or south of Virginia was represented; and in their helplessness those assembled could only recommend a Constitutional Convention, to meet in Philadelphia in May, 1787, to provide for the exigencies of the situation.

And still thick clouds and darkness rested on the land, and there lowered upon its hopes a night as black as that upon the

freezing Delaware; but through its gloom the dauntless leader was still marching on to the consummation of his colossal work, with a hope that never died; with a courage that never faltered; with a wisdom that never yielded that "all is vanity.'

It was not permitted the Roman to despair of the Republic, nor did he―our Chieftain. "It will all come right at last," he said. It did. And now let the historian, Bancroft, speak: "From this state of despair the country was lifted by Madison and Virginia." Again he says: "We come now to a week more glorious for Virginia beyond any in her annals, or in the history of any Republic that had ever before existed."

It was that week in which Madison, "giving effect to his own long-cherished wishes, and still earlier wishes of Washington," addressing, as it were, the whole country, and marshaling all the States, warned them "that the crisis had arrived at which the People of America are to decide the solemn question, whether they would, by wise and magnanimous effort reap the fruits of Independence and Union, or whether by giving way to unmanly jealousies and prejudices, or to partial and transitory interests, they would renounce the blessings prepared for them by the Revolution," and conjuring them "to concur in such further concessions and provisions as may be .necessary to secure the object for which that Government was instituted, and make the United States as happy in peace as they had been glorious in war."

In such manner, my countrymen, Virginia, adopting the words of Madison, and moved by the constant spirit of Washington, joined in convoking that Constitutional Convention, in which he headed her delegation, and over which he presided, and whose deliberations resulted in the formation and adoption of that instrument which the Premier of Great Britain pronounces "the most wonderful work ever struck off at a given time by the brain and purpose of man."

In such manner the State which gave birth to the Father of his Country, following his guiding genius to the Union, as it had followed his sword through the battles of Independence, placed herself at the head of the wavering column.

In such manner America heard and hearkened to the voice of her chief; and now closing ranks, and moving with reanimated step, the Thirteen Commonwealths wheeled and faced

to the front, on the line of the Union, under the sacred ensign of the Constitution.

Thus at last was the crowning work of Washington accomplished. Out of the tempests of war, and the tumults of civil commotion, the ages bore their fruit, the long yearning of humanity was answered. "Rome to America" is the eloquent inscription on one stone contributed to yon colossal shaft -taken from the ancient Temple of Peace that once stood hard by the Palace of the Cæsars. Uprisen from the sea of Revolution, fabricated from the ruins of the battered Bastiles, and dismantled palaces of unhallowed power, stood forth now the Republic of Republics, the Nation of Nations, the Constitutition of Constitutions, to which all lands and times and tongues had contributed of their wisdom. And the Priestess of Liberty was in her Holy Temple.

When Salamis had been fought and Greece again kept free, each of the victorious generals voted himself to be first in honor; but all agreed that Themistocles was second. When the most memorable struggle for the rights of human nature, of which time holds record, was thus happily concluded in the muniment of their preservation, whoever else was second, unanimous acclaim declared that Washington was first. Nor in that struggle alone does he stand foremost. In the name of the people of the United States-their President, their Senators, their Representatives, and their Judges, do crown to-day, with the grandest crown that veneration has ever lifted to the brow of glory, Him whom Virginia gave to America-whom America has given to the world and to the ages-and whom mankind with universal suffrage has proclaimed the foremost of the founders of empire in the first degree of greatness; whom Liberty herself has anointed as the first citizen in the great republic of Humanity.

Encompassed by the inviolate seas stands to-day the American Republic which he founded—a freer Great Britain-uplifted above the powers and principalities of the earth, even as his monument is uplifted over roof and dome and spire of the multitudinous city.

Long live the Republic of Washington! Respected by mankind, beloved of all its sons, long may it be the asylum of the poor and oppressed of all lands and religions-long may it be

the citadel of that Liberty which writes beneath the Eagle's folded wings, "We will sell to no man, we will deny to no man, Right and Justice."

Long live the United States of America! Filled with the free, magnanimous spirit, crowned by the wisdom, blessed by the moderation, hovered over by the guardian angel of Washington's example; may they be ever worthy in all things to be defended by the blood of the brave who know the rights of man and shrink not from their assertion—may they be each a column, and altogether, under the Constitution, a perpetual Temple of Peace, unshadowed by a Cæsar's palace; at whose altar may freely commune all who seek the union of Liberty and Brotherhood.

Long live our Country! Oh, long through the undying ages may it stand, far removed in fact as in space from the Old World's feuds and follies-alone in its grandeur and its glory-itself the immortal monument of him whom Providence commissioned to teach man the power of Truth, and to prove to the nations that their Redeemer liveth.

LE TOMBEAU BLANC

By JOHN DIMITRY

['The Louisiana Book,' New Orleans, 1894.]

I

THERE was no doubt of it. Fernand Torres had the freshest, pinkest complexion of any man in the great city of the Crescent, wherein those two natural enemies, trade and music, for three-quarters of a century, have worked together in the pleasantest of unions.

This Fernand was a man-and his type is not met too often -whom men could respect without envy, and women love without humiliation. For the men, he had the muscles of Milo and the graces of Juan Giron. It was he who had set the city agog, after a foolish wager, by tooling a six-in-hand ponytrap along the "Shell Road." It was he who had ridden his own "Lightning" in a famous race won by that more famous horse the proudest victory recorded in the chronicles of the

old "Ridge." It was he who had struggled for a brave five minutes with the rushing waters of the Father-stream and brought out all dripping but safe, all pale but heroic, a certain Mademoiselle de Beaumanoir. For the rest, he was a pronounced dandy, affected the fragrant Viuditas of Ambalema, opened the freest of purses, had the readiest ear for needy friends, and the scantiest memory of favors granted. In short, he was the half of a modern Admirable Crichton, one who would have ridden shoulder to shoulder with the marvellous Scotchman at the tilting matches of the Louvre, although he might not have cared particularly to claim brotherhood with him in his bout with the wise heads of the University of Paris. "A devilish fine fellow," cried the club men; "but, by Jove! too much of a prig. Why doesn't Fernand drink and gamble like the rest of us?"

"Isn't he handsome?" sighed the society girls, "so strong, so noble-looking, so rich; but dear me! just a little too good. Why doesn't he flirt like the rest of them?"

To speak the truth, Fernand's comrades were not without cause for complaint. He was-in his inmost nature-something more than they were allowed to know; a quite other creature than the courtly man known to society, the stately framer of compliments to fashionable beauties, the breathful swimmer who could cheat even the Mississippi of its prey, and the bold rider who on the Metairie could win heavy stakes and laughingly decline to receive them. Somebody asked lightly, of Fernand's friend, Père Rouquette, what he thought of him.

"Ce cher Fernand," quietly replied Chahta-Ima,* while he pressed back with both hands his long black curls, "is a veritable modern Saint Christopher. He has broad shoulders, you say? Eh bien! so had Saint Christopher."

This nut was the next day presented to Society, which at once tried its teeth on it. "Saint Christopher's shoulders were broad," exclaimed Society; "bon! but what has that to do with Fernand?"

Puzzle or no puzzle there was one point I wish to make plain, on which everybody agreed. Fernand's complexion was simply perfect. "A surface white as snow touched with the

*"Chahta-Ima" (Choctaw-Leader) is a name given by the Indians to Père Adrien Rouquette, the poet-priest of Louisiana, and their apostle.