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THE CONGRESS OE WOMEN.

Rich prairies decked with flowers of gold,

Like sunlit oceans roll afar;

Broad lakes her azure heavens behold,

Reflecting clear each trembling star;

And mighty rivers, mountain born,

Go sweeping onward, dark and deep,

Through forest, where the bounding fawn Beneath their sheltering branches leap.

And cradled mid her clustering hills,

Sweet vales in dreamlike beauty hide;

Dear land, we truly love thee well;

May happiness and peace abide;

Thank God for giving us this home,

This bounteous birthland of the free;

Surely it was His hand that led The mariners across the sea.

In simplest language, then, I will tell the oft-told story of the finding, like a gem upon the bosom of the water, America, the land we love.

With piercing eye and vision clear He waited long in doubt and fear,

Laughed, jeered at, both by friends and foes,

Poor, burdened by a weight of woes,

Yet still declared “across the sea He knew another land must be.”

They pointed to the ocean dark,

Told of its perils to their bark;

And soon the caravels would be Engulfed beneath “ that great black sea.”

Then called him “ mad, a dreamer wild,”

P'rom common sense and ways beguiled.

From land to land he journeyed long,

Repeating still the same old song,

Till years had flown, and sad of heart He saw the hopes of youth depart.

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Did he despair? Thank Heaven, no!

After his wanderings to and fro He found a friend to hear his plea And listen to his “ theory.”

While wise men doubted or delayed,

A woman’s heart was not dismayed,

But pledged her jewels to supply The means when others would deny.

Nothing of good was ever done,

But at great cost was victory won;

Long hours of toil and days of pain Succeed and fail, again, again.

Tis only he who will not yield To any foe who wins the field.

The conquerer too often wears The martyr’s chaplet unawares.