did its best we should have a splendid country. Then once she
said that we ought to be glad the war is over and the States are
all at peace together; and I thought Columbia must be glad, too,
for Miss Dearborn says she's the mother of all the States. So I'm
going to have it end like this: I did n't write it, I just sewed
it while I was working on my star:--
"For it's your star, my star, all the stars together,
That make our country's flag so proud
To float in the bright fall weather.
Northern stars, Southern stars, stars of the East and West,
Side by side they lie at peace
On the dear flag's mother-breast."

"'Oh! many are the poets that are sown by Nature,'" thought the
minister, quoting Wordsworth to himself. "And I wonder what
becomes of them! That's a pretty idea, little Rebecca, and I
don't know whether you or my wife ought to have the more praise.
What made you think of the stars lying on the flag's 'mother-
breast'? Were did you get that word?"
"Why" (and the young poet looked rather puzzled),"that's the way
it is; the flag is the whole country--the mother--and the stars
are the states. The stars had to lie somewhere: 'lap' nor 'arms'
wouldn't sound well with 'West,' so, of course, I said
'breast,'" Rebecca answered, with some surprise at the question;
and the minister put his hand under her chin and kissed her
softly on the forehead when he said good-by at the door.
Rebecca walked rapidly along in the gathering twilight, thinking
of the eventful morrow.
As she approached the turning on the left, called the old
Milltown road, she saw a white horse and wagon, driven by a man